#so his concept of friendship is warped to say the least

[langernameohnebedeutung]

#i choose to believe blaine doesn’t realise they’re enemies#he’s just having a little banter with his bestie liv @crowdemon-boyo

David Anders even said something along those lines once. That Blaine has a love-hate relationship with Liv and the gang, except that any love comes from Blaine's side. And that he would like to join their little "Scoobie gang" but "everyone over there hates him"

[hadesknockedupintheunderworld]

What if I was insane again about the first thing Alpha Grim Sonic hearing when Nine creates him is his purpose—that he is Nine's friend?

Friendship as a concept in Prime is handled interestingly among its main characters. As Sonic (who thinks he knows a lot about friendship) comes to deepen his understanding of what it means to have a home/be home, I think it's safe to say his definition of friendship develops along with it. Compare this to Nine, who's learned everything he knows about "friendship" and personal relationships in general through his relationship with Sonic (at least, after his childhood of bullying).

So of course I think about Nine, who never wants to be hurt again, yet can no longer bear feeling alone (not after feeling that sense of companionship and belonging with someone else), which results in him creating a warped version of friendship for himself (one where he is surrounded by people, but people who only do whatever he wants, who have no opinions and thoughts of their own, who can't backstab him). And so I think about Alpha Grim Sonic, who is the very first robot Nine creates under this idea of frienship and companionship.

Nine is his master, and Alpha Grim Sonic is his protector, his bodyguard, his weapon

But he's also his friend.

Alpha Grim Sonic doesn’t talk back (can't even if he wanted to), but his purpose has always been clear to him: be Nine's friend. That's what he was created to be.

So I imagine Alpha Grim Sonic performing his purpose to the T at first under Nine's framework. He's Nine's friend, so he does whatever Nine commands, he never talks back or challenges authority, he protects Nine at all cost. And then, perhaps unbeknownst to Nine, he begins to shift ever so gradually. Sure, he's never insubordinate, he never offers up opinions, he still can't speak, but the lines of devotion begin to blur.

Is it in his code? Is out of a real sense of feeling?

Alpha Grim Sonic does not understand friendship, no matter whether it believes it does or not. But it's ironic to me if, despite being created under Nine's warped idea of it, the robot slowly grows their own soul, witnesses other displays of frienship and care, and drifts outside the bounds of that idea (a carefully crafted painting begins to leak out of its frame, expanding the masterpiece). They protect Nine, they do only what he commands, and yet they hate to see Nine in pain, they wish to bring Nine comfort (and so it feels good to him when Nine commands him to do such things that might bring his master comfort).

Does this make any sense? To believe that friendship means to hold one person on a pedestal, to protect them, to only listen to them, to never talk back, to never have opinions, and yet, despite believing what your creator tells you of friendship with them (your very purpose in this existence), to slowly fall further into those feelings that true care and love for another person brings, to wish to comfort someone the way one might describe a true friend would, despite not realizing any of this.

[creativebrainrot]

open journal entry #idk i lost count lol

chatter about friendship as a concept to me and my mental state i guess?? idk man i proofread this like five times and i dont even know what i said anymore 👍

i feel like i dont always communicate myself well and that I come off like i only care about fandom sometimes. I worry about a lot of stuff but only time will tell and I'm not on borrowed time or in any kind of toxic situation anymore so I finally have room for worries to just be worries.

light mentions of abuse, and my abusive father

I worry a lot. I worry I won't get the chance to become closer with people whose friendship I value a lot. I worry I'll get left behind or be forgotten. I worry I'm annoying, that I talk too much, that I've mis-spoken too often and all of that shit.

I've spent so long feeling like I'm living on borrowed time that will run out sooner than I think, that it bleeds over into my perception of stuff like friendship. it ends up making me feel like I have to start to "speedrun" the "correct milestones" while I "still have the chance." that I'll fade from the lives of people I'd really love to become closer with one day. And it's just an anxious feeling, I don't ever act on it. It's just kind of There, in the back of my mind.

I hate that I had to deal with a father who weaponized my honest vulnerability every chance he got so cruelly, that now I have to fight through so many layers of panic every time I want to say something as simple as "im glad I met you." And I never say it because of how much it hurts. It hurts to be vulnerable and honest like that. It's not bad if I get an opportunity to say something like that, I'll leap on those with ease. But if it's just me, offering that vulnerability all on my own, I can't do it. Not yet.

And I know that it's the warped perception I was left with from all his bullshit he inflicted on me that causes that panic, and it will fade eventually. I've unlearnt more than I can list here since making friends last December.

I wish I had more to share about myself because I think that would make it easier for me to feel like I'm showing that I genuinely care about my friends beyond screaming about ocs. And, y'know. It'd be nice to have a life I like enough that I want to share it. I often worry that I don't come off like I do care outside of that. And I do, I just don't really know how to show it yet. I'm not very good at starting conversations yet. Atleast, I don't have enough confidence TO start conversations yet.

It's a bit of a silly worry but I've struggled with feeling a lot of fear about "being left behind" for a long time. It bleeds over into my perception of friendship. I get frightened that I'm "not doing it right" or that just generally I'll be left behind or forgotten or people I'd like to get closer to will lose interest before I can tell them that I feel like that.

It's hard to be the one to start conversations about life because I have genuinely never had a real life social life yet. I haven't had jobs, I haven't been in school as I was home-schooled, I haven't had a chance to make friends my own age in person ever. All that lack of experience means I don't really know how to talk about what I conceptualize as "life things/topics."

There is no "one size fits all" approach to friendship as a whole, and I know that. I just, get scared. About "ideas" I guess? It's just anxiousness. General worry.

It's hard to not worry at least a little bit, when I've never had friends before. I had one when I was 8 for about 2 months if memory serves. They moved away shortly after I started talking to them. I never found another person my age I really clicked with. I was too scared of social media to use any of it. I never consistently talked to other people, that's a new thing that started last December.

I guess my real worry is just that I won't get a chance to grow closer to friends I really really want to. My worries will ease when I have the confidence to start or atleast attempt to start conversations with people. It petrifies me for now, I've kind of had an idea in my head of "not being good enough to be confident" in myself and my interests. Insecurity is a big thing I'm grappling with lately. Slowly but surely I'm finding solutions.

Idk if there's a point to all I've said. I guess, I worry that I don't properly show that I care enough. I wanna do better with that. I worry that I come off like I am only interested in fandom and fandom-adjacent stuff.

The main thing that causes me to worry that I'm on borrowed time, is the kind of games my father would play. He'd treat me normally for a week before going back to ignoring me and making me feel insignificant, invisible, unwanted and annoying. Then he'd be back when he wanted his ego stroked. Whenever he wanted to feel like "a good father" again he'd be back and treating me normally.

I have trouble sometimes with reminding myself that this time, I'm not on borrowed time.

I can just ask how they're doing when I think of it. I'm just too scared to at the moment. But, like a lot of shit so far, I'll move past my fear.

It'll get easier. DMs are way less scary now than they were just a couple of weeks ago. Step-by-step. I have the freedom and safety to take it step-by-step now.

[wildflowerdylan]

WITH BENEFITS

PART ONE - PART TWO - PART THREE

Pairing : Stiles Stilinski x Reader

Warnings : Smut-like content, 18+ content, enemies to lovers, cursing.

Concept : College can change a lot of things. Some of those things might even be the status of your friendship. At least, that’s what happened with Stiles and Y/N.

Lydia and Kira burst into my apartment to find me in a pink faux leather mini skirt and a lace corset top. “Hey, gorgeous!” Lydia chimed, looking me up and down. “Hi,” I hum back. “Grab anything from the fridge.” The two nod and snatch something out as I finish fixing my hair in the mirror. Once I’m done, I walk over to sit next to them. “So…” Lydia begins. I look at her for a moment, before turning to look at my cup. “Y/N, it’s been two weeks and you and Stiles have done nothing but avoid each other.” I nod my head, “I know…” Kira speaks up softly, “Maybe that’s for the best though?” We both turn towards her. “I mean, they have been arguing less.” I laugh slightly, but Lydia is not as amused. “Yeah, but they aren’t arguing because neither one is hanging out with the group anymore.” I looked at her quickly, “Stiles isn’t going either?” She shakes her head, “He leaves the apartment until Scott texts him to come back.” I sigh, “It’s hard to burry the hatchet, you guys…” They both sit in silence, knowing this is true. Another knock hits my door before two couples walk in - Allison and Isaac and Mason and Corey. We all say our hello’s and they begin to pregame for the soon-to-be party as well. This meant that, luckily, the conversation steers away from Stiles and I... until Liam and Malia come in.

“Are we just going to ignore the fact that this is the first time Y/N and Stiles are going to be in the same room since the ultimatum was made?” Everyone turns to Malia. “I know I’m not great with social cues, but come on… We need a game plan.” Everyone stays silent, not sure what to say. “She’s right.” I speak suddenly, surprising everyone. “How are we supposed to plan for you guys to not bitch at each other? If it was that easy, there wouldn’t be a problem in the first place.” Liam comments quickly. I nod my head in agreement, “I know… But we’ve never tried this plan…” I pick up a bottle of vodka and a shot glass. “The only time Stiles hasn’t made me wanna kill him is when I’m drunk.”

So, that’s what we did. We all got drunk off our asses in the spirit of making tonight as good as possible. About an hour and ten shots each later, we all started our walk to Scott and Stiles’ apartment for their party. We each walked in and were all greeted by the two hosts despite there already being a rather large crowd. Everyone at the party was pretty drunk, but no one was as drunk as us. A few hours and many more drinks passed before Stiles finally walked over to me. “Hey,” He forced. I rolled my eyes at him, too drunk to care. “Let’s go dance!” I said excitedly. The boy furrows his brows in confusion at me, “Aren’t you supposed to hate me still…” I laugh and shove him playfully, “We’re being friendly now, remember?” Stiles looks at me and laughs slightly, finally realizing how out of it I am.

It was now almost 2:00 AM and everyone but the pack members had left. Scott and Kira had fled to his room not too long ago and the other two couples had left around midnight. Malia was passed out in the corner while Lydia and Liam were arguing about who is Scott’s favorite - an argument that really had no answer to, but in their drunken state needed to be argued. 

Conversely, Stiles and I were still dancing. It was a great night, especially for Scott’s ultimatum.

I felt myself yawn, “I think it’s time for me to go home.” Stiles looked down at me, arms still warped around my waist drunkenly. He nodded his head before gasping excitedly, “Stay here!” I looked at him with furrowed eyebrows and then looked around at the dirty living room. “Come on, Y/N!” Stiles slurred. “It’ll be like a sleepover!” I laughed at him, not used to seeing this side of him. “Stiles, this place is a disaster.” He looked around for himself before nodding happily, “Stay in my room!” I looked at him in astonishment. “Your room?” He nodded again, “Yeah! I mean Scott wants us to be friends, what’s more friendly than that?” I smiled up at him, his words making a whole lot of sense. “Okay!” We drunkenly walked up the steps to his bedroom, just barely avoiding falling down them. He led me to his room and opened the door. “What?” He smiles as he notices me still standing in the doorway. “Your room,” I smile, “It’s exactly as I would’ve imagined it to be.” He smiles at me sloppily, “You’ve seen my room before.” I nod my head, “Yeah, but I never really looked...” He just smiles again before nodding and sifting through his drawers.

“Do you need a change of clothes?” I shrugged, “I can just sleep in this.” He turns to look at me up and down, “Are you sure?” I shrug again. “I guess I could get a little more comfortable…” He nods his head once, not taking his eyes off me as a new wave of feelings hit me. I unzip my shirt and let it fall down to the ground, revealing the small black underwear on my body. “Got a shirt?” I smirk, still not totally sure of what I was doing. Stiles nods with a nervous gulp before grabbing the closet t-shirt he could feel without tearing his eyes off of me. Stiles threw the shirt over to me, watching as I caught it with ease and turned around. I rip my top off, revealing my bare back to him, and then I slip the t-shirt on over my head. I turn around again and smile. Stiles gulps again before ripping his own shirt and pants off quickly. “Mind if we share a bed?” He says just barely above a whisper. I shake my head and watch as he slips under the covers just before I follow his move. We both turn on our sides and face each other delicately. “You know, you’re a lot more tolerable when I’m drunk.” He laughed quietly, “You’re a lot more tolerable when you’re drunk, too.” I scoff and shove him playfully again, but this time Stiles grabs my hand and pulls me slightly closer.

“What are you doing?” I say barely above a whisper, my eyes traveling back and forth from his own eyes and his lips. Stiles doesn’t answer me, but instead takes my gaze as permission. He fills the gap between up in and places his lips on my own. At first, I was taken aback. What the hell was this kid doing? More importantly, why did I like it? 

I slithered my arms around his neck and tangled my fingers in his hair. He groaned into my mouth as I inched closer. Stiles began moving his lips down my neck, his hand traveling down my body. I moaned in response before rolling over and straddling him. I sat up and looked huim into his eyes the way he did into mine - with hunger. “Stiles,” I started, through labored breath after the heavy makeup session we just had. “Are you sure we should do this?” He shrugged his shoulders, “It’s not like we’re about to ruin a friendship or anything.” I chuckled slightly, nodding my head. “Great,” I smirked. He mirrored my expression but with anticipation. I moved my hands down to the hem of the shirt and ripped it over my head, revealing my bare breasts. I heard him gasp lightly, “God help me…” I bend down and continue the kiss, but Stiles isn’t satisfied. He rolls me over quickly, removing what was left on my body and diving right in. To say this boy’s tongue was magical is an understatement. It wasn’t too long before I was doing the same to him and listening to his grunts like the radio. He eventually pulled me back up, not wanting to cum in my mouth. We proceeded to roll around the bed in as many positions as we could think of in our drunken state before we both finally finished. We both move to slam our backs into the bed and look up at the ceiling breathlessly. “Whoa.”

[urupotter]

So while I've said before that I don't like the HP subreddit, I still frequent it because occasionally I read something insightful. This is one such case, where I read a reading of Lupin that I'd never seen before in response to a comment of mine analyzing the shrieking shack confrontation between Snape, Remus, Sirius and the golden trio, where I mentioned that Lupin was a gaslighter so I wanted to share. It was created by reddit user u/UsuallySiSometimesNo and is posted here with his permission. We had a little conversation in the comments. Read it under the cut

UsuallySiSometimesNo: That struck a cord with me, too. I didn't think about that on a conscious level before, but when I read it, it felt instantly true.

Honestly, I think the strongest examples of Lupin gaslighting are actually done to himself. The biggest, character-defining example, I think, is that after finding friendship with James, Sirius, and Peter, he becomes so desperate not to be ostracized from them (due to his issues of self-worth and his personal brand of impostor syndrome) that he deliberately and routinely feeds himself false narratives about their behavior until he can no longer tell fact from fiction, even as he's experiencing it.

Their relentless bullying of Snape? A childhood rivalry.

Their casual bullying of other students? Kids being young and stupid.

Their clear disinterest verging on contempt for Peter, someone less fortunate and vulnerable with whom they're supposed to be good friends? Just mates being mates.

Even actions taken against Lupin, himself, are revised in his memory to be 'no big deal', because he desperately needs that to be true. Let's pretend for a moment that Snape indisputably deserved to be slaughtered by a werewolf the night Sirius told him how to get past the Whomping Willow. Sirius did not send Snape to be killed by any old werewolf. What happened that night was that Sirius - one of Remus' best friends, if not his actual best friend - attempted to use Remus' curse/illness against someone (which is a big enough betrayal on it's own) without ever telling Remus that when he woke up in the morning (covered in blood and in the presence of a shredded corpse) it would be to find that he had committed the act he was most petrified he might one day commit. In setting Snape up to be killed by Lupin, Sirius, at the very least, risked Lupin's sanity, and, at the very most, risked Lupin being sentenced to death.

Now, I understand that Sirius wasn't thinking about all of that when he did what he did, and I, as a someone removed from the situation (and armed with the additional character/situational knowledge granted to a reader) can even understand why Sirius' own trauma led him to grant such a blind death sentence to Snape (which I think is related to a point you made elsewhere, u/Adventure_Time_Snail, about Sirius' "violence towards those who trigger his fundamental fear of wizard fascists" because of his abusive upbringing). But Lupin's perspective is not one of an unbiased observer. And once James found out what was happening and pulled Snape back before it was too late (which, I would think, was more to save Lupin than to save Snape) and once Remus awoke the next to day to discover everything that transpired the night before, I find it hard to believe there wasn't at least some conversation about the true gravity of the situation. And yet, even all these years later, Lupin doesn't bat an eye when Sirius not only doesn't display shame when the event is mentioned in POA, but offers something akin to regret, NOT at the fact that his actions could have gotten Lupin killed, but that that they DIDN'T get Snape killed: "It served him right...", he sneered. etc. etc.

I think the obvious question here, is 'Even disregarding what Sirius did to Snape - how can Lupin be okay with the knowledge that Sirius has no regret, at all, for what he did to him, even now that they're adults?' Well, we're not in Lupin's point of view in the books, which means we can't hear his internal monologue, but I think a satisfactory answer to the question is that he's done a substantial amount of internal gymnastics in order to get to a point where he doesn't see this as a big deal, or even as something that he has a right to be upset about.... just like a gaslighter does to their victim.

Again, because we're not in Lupin's POV, we can't point to the exact instances that such internal gaslighting took place, but, based on what we do observe from Harry's POV (and based on external knowledge of gaslighting as a true-to-life concept) I wouldn't be surprised if Lupin so desperately needs everything to be okay that he derides himself for feeling bad or betrayed, that he calls himself stupid for thinking terrible things that have happened to him are a big deal, that he wars with himself about how people who are his friends and who are so good to him and who are better friends than he thinks he deserves could possibly do something to harm him/others, and that he beats down whatever emotions and senses and gut feelings he has that tells him something his friends have done might be very wrong. What we see in the books is a man who makes excuses for his friends and harbors a warped perception of reality in much the same way victims of gaslighting do, and he seems to exploit his own insecurities in order to instill doubt in his own experiences in much the same way perpetrators of gaslighting do.

I can't help but think that, by the time Lupin tells Harry that Snape harbors a particularly strong hatred for James because James was a better Quidditch player, Lupin has become so adept at gaslighting himself that he actually believes it.

tl;dr: One of Lupin's defining characteristics is that he gaslights himself out of a desperate need to be liked by others, since he has a difficult time liking himself and seems to believe all of his relationships are incredibly fragile.

Urupotter:

This is a fascinating reading on Lupin that I've never seen. I don't read him the same way, in that I think Lupin actually does know that what he's doing is wrong, he just doesn't have the moral courage to act on his conscience. (I view him as the anti Snape, great conscience, but abysmal moral courage, while Snape had unbelievable moral courage but a shitty conscience. Their arcs are about growing their moral courage and their conscience respectively) Realizing that his negligence almost got Harry killed is what triggers his arc, concluding when he goes back to Tonks and Teddy after running away, taking responsibility for his actions for the first time.

But this reading is so interesting that I'll have to reflect on it. Do you mind if I post it on my Harry Potter tumblr blog? I'll credit you of course, I would just like to discuss it with my followers. Of course if you don't want to I won't.

UsuallySiSometimesNo:

Honestly, I think the lack of in-depth conversation about Remus Lupin (at least compared to fan favorites Sirius Black and Severus Snape) is a missed opportunity and a shame. Don't get me wrong, I can discuss Sirius and Snape until blue in the face, but Lupin's arc is just as powerful in an understated (and often underestimated) way. The muddy, oversimplified truth is, without the fatal-flaw decision making of all four Marauders throughout their lives, the series of events proceeding the first chapter of the first book don't happen, and the story we all know and love never comes to be.

And speaking of sparking a discussion about Lupin...

I think Lupin actually does know that what he's doing is wrong, he just doesn't have the moral courage to act on his conscience.

You know what? I agree. And that's what makes him so interesting, I think. He is constantly and dependably full to bursting with internal conflict. When his friends are wrong/do something wrong/say something wrong, he can and does immediately identify the situation as wrong. When he does something wrong, or when he does nothing in the face of something wrong, in that moment I believe he knows the full weight of the situation. Like you said, he has a strong conscience, as well as a deeper, perhaps more nuanced understanding of right and wrong than do, for example, James and Sirius. Now, Lupin needs his friends. They're not just people to hang out with, they're a lifeline for him. He's not going to engage in conflict with them if there is even the slightest chance that he might lose them (for a variety of reasons, he lacks, as you said, the moral courage to do so). But he's also a generally decent human being, and with a strong conscience comes the capacity for sincere guilt and remorse. So, not only will he not confront his friends, he needs it to be okay that he doesn't confront them. And it's at that point that I think the self gaslighting is triggered.

But Lupin is intelligent and nobody's fool, so the gaslighting creates only a thin layer of ice over the problem. Just enough of a cover that he can live with the things he would otherwise deeply regret. I do think he believes the alternative reality he makes for himself to be accurate as long as it isn't really challenged. Crack the ice, though, and we see him express remorse and reveal an underlying awareness of past and present truths. But then the moment is over, and the war between the uncomfortably and full weight of the truth and his need for the companionship of his friends returns, and then the gaslighting begins again, allowing him an easier return to his closest friends (and eventually his closest friend, singular, after the others have been taken from him as was his fear all along) without conflict and with minimal strain on his conscience.

Once Sirius, the last of his original chosen family is gone - truly gone, as opposed to 'located elsewhere' as he was when in prison - following OOtP, suddenly Lupin's arc takes off at a greater speed than at any point prior. He's now literally lost all of the people he'd been terrified of figuratively losing. Although there are still people and things he cares about, he isn't as dependent on any of them as he was on those foundational friendships, and the finality of their absence allows him to finally grow beyond his stifling cycle of reality shifting, confront the truths of his reality and his circumstances, and, as you said, finally take responsibility by returning to Tonks and Teddy - a decision that, ultimately, triggers his death (I don't mean to imply that it was a bad decision or that it's the sole cause of his death, but Rowling has said that being 'out of practice' contributed to his loss at the Battle of Hogwarts, which makes for a fantastic tragedy).

I don't mean to overstate the importance of this theory or imply that it's always present when he's on-stage, and, as with anyone, many other elements, of course, factor into his actions/words/motives. But I think it's a fascinating potential component of his character all the same. If you have more thoughts on this, I love to hear them - and I look forward to reading the discussion on your blog!

So what do you think? Is this a valid reading of Lupin? I'd say it is, but I'm interested in reading my followers thoughts!

[snackhobi]

pairing: hoseok x reader / word count: 26.8k / genre: fluff, smut, mutual pining, best friends to lovers, slow burn, technically a buzzfeed unsolved AU but you don’t need to be familiar with BFU at all so dw!

summary: having hoseok as your best friend and co-host for your web series is a dream come true. the only hitch? you’re kind of in love with him, and it’s getting harder to ignore that fact, even if he doesn’t feel the same for you. 

warnings: idiots being oblivious, sexually explicit content, oral (f receiving + brief mentions of m receiving), unprotected sex, multiple orgasms (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), body worship + praise (f receiving), a lot of soft emotions and pet names, hoseok treating reader like a pillow princess

a/n: the more I read this the less happy I am with it but after the amount of time I’ve spent on it/how long it’s gotten, I’m calling it finished (even if it’s a lot lighter on paranormal related stuff than I’d initially planned OOPS...) please feel free to let me know what you think AHH x

--

Jung Hoseok is a lot of things. 

Jung Hoseok is: a work-friend-turned-real-friend-turned-best-friend, and one of your favourite people in the world. 

Jung Hoseok is: very easily scared, the opposite of a thrillseeker, Not A Fan of big rollercoasters, or haunted houses, or anywhere that involves jump scares or loud noises or anything vaguely dangerous or threatening. 

Jung Hoseok is: a man with ridiculous lung capacity who can also screech so loudly that you’re fairly certain he could shatter glass if he wanted to.

“It’s just a bat, hyung,” Jimin says, before the bat comes back round and Hoseok shrieks again.

Jung Hoseok is: clinging to you with a vice-like grip as aforementioned bat flutters above you, squeaking and trilling, and you stroke his hand in an absent, instinctual motion, trying to soothe him.

“I definitely heard footsteps as well,” Hoseok whimpers. “Why are we here?” 

Why are you here? Well, because Jung Hoseok is also: your co-host for one of BigHit’s most popular series, BigHit Unsolved.

It’s funny, in a roundabout sort of way, that Hoseok’s general fear of Most Things had been the thing that had cinched him his spot. You’d never expected Unsolved to explode in the way it had, starting off as a short video series with Yoongi beside you to bounce off as you described unsolved crimes, but then Hoseok had starred opposite you and the audience had just eaten it up: the way he got spooked at real life events, the modulation of his voice when it would rise or dip in fear, the way you riffed off each other- you, calm but enthused about your topic, and Hoseok, a quivering jelly of a man when scared.

Not to mention that Hoseok is just great on screen anyway, personable and bright and charming. He makes you laugh and brings out a level of exuberance in you in a way that no one else can, makes you do ridiculous things without even trying- your interactions are good video fodder, basically, and your audience loves how your friendship comes across on the show. 

And that’s another funny thing. You’d known Hoseok before Unsolved, of course, because everyone knows Hoseok, because Hoseok is wonderful, a sunshine of a man, loved by all. You, however, hadn't really spoken much to him- when you'd started at BigHit you'd been crushing on Hoseok in kind of a big way and you'd been worried about embarrassing yourself in front of him, so… you'd done the logical thing of avoiding him as much as was possible without being rude or weird. Face your problems and anxieties? In this economy? Haha, you don't think so.

Anyway. Because of this, your interactions had been pretty limited up until you’d asked him to appear in one of your videos. If anyone asked it was because you’d thought he would be a fun, one-off guest star, which was true, but the main reason was that Yoongi had cancelled because he was sick and no one else had been free when you’d been scrabbling around the office for a replacement. Despite not knowing you all too well, and despite being scared easily by true crime (“my mum watched CSI when I was a kid and it gave nightmares,” he’d told you afterwards), Hoseok had heard about your plight and was happy to replace Yoongi for the episode, and you’d found out that- despite your initial worry that you were going to make things weird- you get on really well.

Like, really well. Not just on camera, either. Before they’d started to roll, you’d been frantically making sure everything was in place, that you had all your notes, that all the pre-production was ready- and Hoseok had made you stand still, taking your hands in his, and he’d smiled at you in a way that had been so warm and comforting that all the tension had leaked out of you. After that it had just been so easy. You’d felt relaxed and the episode had come out great, and then Hoseok suggested that you grab lunch together in the cafeteria so you could get to know each other more. Of course you’d agreed- and the rest is history.

It didn’t take long for Hoseok to turn from a nice and funny colleague, to someone you actively looked for at work gatherings, to someone who you decided to ask to be your permanent co-host for the show, to someone who now has a spare key for your flat in case he ever runs out of snacks or just feels like dropping by. Which he feels like doing a lot, apparently, but you have a key for his place too, so it’s all even stevens. (You steal a lot of his face masks whenever you visit him and he never complains.)

Over time your huge crush on Hoseok has ebbed into a deep platonic love, fading and morphing into a comfortable friendship. Okay, sure, you still think he’s the most beautiful person in the universe and you’d immediately accept if he asked you to marry him and you kind of want to kiss him on the mouth sometimes (a lot of the time) or whatever, but that’s because you know how wonderful he is. It’s platonic. Not romantic. Mmhm. (Mostly.) Either way, you're completely comfortable around him despite any lingering feelings you might have, which is something you appreciate more than you can put into words.

So fast forward to now, multiple seasons into your show, and you’re more than used to Hoseok’s fear and touch. It had been startling, at the beginning, when Hoseok had grabbed onto you whenever he was afraid, but now you’re used to navigating places in the dark while Hoseok clings onto you like a particularly oversized backpack or holds your hand like a lost school child. (You’ve lost count of the minutes, nay, hours of footage that exist of Hoseok doing this, like some sort of gangly limpet, but you don’t mind.) Fans love to splice together footage comparing interactions over the seasons and it’s very obvious how wide eyed and stiff you used to go whenever Hoseok seized you, but now? This is your every day, baby.

Hoseok is still cowering behind you as the lone bat flaps above you, high up in the rafters of the old generator building you’re standing in. You and your crew and your guide are the only people at the abandoned gold mine, so Hoseok can’t have heard footsteps, other than your own- which is what you tell him.

“I think it was the building settling, Hobi,” you say. “This mining warehouse is pretty old.”

“Old and full of ghosts.” Hoseok moans. Jimin readjusts the camera and you know that, without a doubt, he’s zooming in on Hoseok’s terrified face. Namjoon’ll have some fun shots to edit later. Jimin is a very capable cameraman, and also unruffled by ghosts/loud noises/etc, but he does love to catch some interesting angles of the two of you. At least Taehyung refrains from doing that, although he does sometimes get too focused on making a shot artistic rather than capturing the abject terror on Hoseok’s face when it would be a good clip for the final video.  

“Well, we don’t know that.” You pause. “Maybe we should test it with the spirit box to find out?”

Hoseok’s face twists and you can’t help but laugh.

The supernatural half of the show wouldn’t exist without Hoseok. Your fans enjoyed his eternal suffering and fear whenever anything remotely spooky was mentioned, so they'd bandied about the idea of a paranormal-themed season and you'd taken the idea on board; the juxtaposition between yourself and your co-host was all the more defined when he was banshee shrieking at some innocuous sound while you stayed calm. You’re open to the concept of the supernatural but have yet to come across any evidence that you find compelling enough to make you a believer, while Hoseok is convinced in the existence of ghosts and finds the idea terrifying.

He doesn’t like the spirit box because of this, but you don’t mind it- although you don't really like the loud static it makes when it’s scanning through radio frequencies, trying to pick up if any spirits or ghouls are trying to talk to you. (They’re not, even if Hoseok insists that the random bursts of sound it spits out are definitely coherent words and sentences, rather than a mish-mash of random rubbish that it just happens to pick from normal radio waves.)

The spirit box, of course, is about as interesting as normal: that is to say, not really at all, though you have a good laugh after you ask for any spirits to give you a name and the only response is ‘pineapple pie’, which makes you feel hungry. Hoseok lets you rummage around in his pocket for a cereal bar, which you end up munching on between shots, as Hoseok swats bugs away from your faces. He attempts to karate chop a mosquito but misses by miles and you almost choke on a mouthful of oats as he makes the world’s most incredulous face and you giggle.

“We should make pineapple pie for a video at some point,” you suggest, and Hoseok is briefly distracted from his fear- he’d given up on the bugs and has been shining his torch over your shoulder at some old generator equipment and casting warped shadows on the walls behind it, dark silhouettes that could admittedly be considered a little spooky. “I’ve never had pineapple pie before.”

“There’s a Filipino bakery near our place that sells it!” Taehyung jumps in before Hoseok can respond, turning away from where he and Jimin have been making shadow puppets on the wall with their own torches. “It’s so good, you should definitely do it.”

Hoseok hums. “Jin-hyung would probably be happy to help out,” he says. You finish the cereal bar and tuck the wrapper back into Hoseok’s pocket, making a mental note to get in touch with the Tasty team member to ask him about it. He’ll leap at the opportunity. 

There’s a clattering noise somewhere far in the distance, probably rocks shifting or something, and Hoseok squeaks and crowds even closer to you, as impossible as that is with how he’s already wrapped around your back at this point, the harness for his chest-mounted camera digging into your spine. It’s a familiar sensation by this point. “Please can we get out of here now?”

“Sure,” you say indulgently, stroking Hoseok’s arm where it’s wrapped around your collarbones. “We need to drive down to the mining tunnels now anyway.”

Hoseok keeps hold of your hand as your guide drives you to your location, squeezing your fingers every time the car goes over a bump- which is pretty often on the rocky dirt track. Hoseok’s fairly touchy in general, always holding hands or hugging or kissing people, raining little pecks over their faces, and it had been Very Overwhelming when he’d first turned this attention to you. You’re not, like, not touchy, but back in season 1 you were definitely not used to spending time with someone who loves skinship as much as Hoseok does, and it had taken time for you to stop freezing up every time he casually touched or grabbed you.

It says a lot about how used you are to it now that you don’t even bat an eyelid when he wriggles into your twin bed at the hotel later, curling up around you once he’s finished his meticulous skincare routine.  “Your bed is over there, Hobi,” you say, although you immediately snuggle back into him, letting him spoon you. He’s always a lot clingier after you finish filming a supernatural episode- as if you can ward off any ghosts that might have decided to hitch a ride back from wherever you’d come from.

“I know,” Hoseok replies. He hitches a leg over yours, sighing happily when you reach an arm down to rub his calves. He always sleeps better if you massage him.

“I can’t wait to get home.” You dig your fingers into a muscle and Hoseok squirms a little. You huff out a laugh. “Arizona is so hot.”

“You look cute in shorts, though,” Hoseok says. He’s been saying the same thing all day.

“You just like shorts.” He’d been wearing shorts too, pretty much matching his clothes to yours; at this point you’re starting to wonder if he looks through your luggage before he packs his own stuff, because your outfits end up being eerily similar a lot of the time. You think he finds it reassuring, maybe, when you’re somewhere unfamiliar. Or maybe it’s because Hoseok’s fashion has influenced your own over the years. You definitely own a lot more bright clothing than you used to, not to mention the matching items you’ve both purchased together anyway.

Now that you think about it, Hoseok really has been a big influence on you, huh.

He falls asleep pretty soon after, going lax and limp as his breaths deepen and he dozes off. He always falls asleep before you do, awake one second and flat out the next; you envy his ability to drop off like that, usually taking a lot longer yourself, but you do find it good that he’s able to sleep so quickly despite his earlier fear. He always crashes at yours after you finish filming an episode when you’re home, too, otherwise he says he’s up all night with the fear- this is all part and parcel of Hoseok being your co-host and partner on the show, and honestly, you don’t mind it at all.

So you're used to this. When Hoseok makes a little noise in his sleep and starts shifting behind you, you lift his hand to your mouth and gently kiss his knuckles, running your thumb down his wrist- he settles immediately, going lax again. You'll chase away any nightmares with soft touches, shuffling around in his grip and holding him tight if you need to, before eventually drifting off yourself, safe and warm in the circle of his arms.

Even though you usually fall asleep after Hoseok, one thing you have over him is the fact you’re a morning person and find it a lot easier to get up with the sun. Despite your late night, you’re awake moments before your phone alarm starts to ring, turning it off before it can rouse Hoseok out of his sleep. When you slide out of the bed he stirs a little, instinctively reaching out for you in his sleep, and you carefully put a pillow in his arms so he can hold onto that instead; he settles down once he has the pillow hugged to his chest, and you take a moment to look at him fondly and gently kiss his forehead before you start to get ready for the day.

You’re pretty much done by the time Hoseok sits up at the sound of his own alarm, blinking blearily in your direction as you turn it off for him. He’s still holding onto the pillow as he sits up.

“Morning, honey,” you chirp. “You want coffee?”

Hoseok stares at you for a second, eyes squinting as he tries to wake up fully. “Morning,” he replies, voice hoarse from sleep, and you smile. “Please.”

When you’d first found out that Hoseok wasn’t a morning person, you’d honestly been gobsmacked. He’s just so bright and energetic that you figured he rolled out of bed like that- it just makes sense- but it actually takes him a surprisingly long time to get fully up to speed with his normal self. He’s a little slower, a little softer, draping himself over your back as you fiddle with the room's coffee machine to try and get some caffeine into him.

“We can always get some more at the airport,” you say conversationally, and Hoseok hums quietly into your hair before dropping a kiss there. “It’s a shame we don’t have time to eat at the breakfast buffet.” 

Despite his morning slowness, he’s still ready on time; he’s always punctual, is your Hoseok. You make up for missing breakfast at the hotel by purchasing tons of snacks for the flight to Pennsylvania, munching a pre-wrapped croissant as you read off your phone while Jimin dozes next to you, his head resting against the window. You’re sandwiched between him and Hoseok, who has the aisle seat- he cranes his head at your pastry and you tilt it against his lips so he can take a bite. You end up with a lapful of crumbs, but that’s okay. 

“So where are we off to next?” Hoseok asks once he’s done chewing, peering at your phone screen. Across the aisle from you, Taehyung very loudly unwraps a pain au chocolat, much to the irritation of the woman next to him. 

“We’re going to an old prison,” you say, and Hoseok meeps. “A penitentiary, to be exact.”

Taehyung shoves the pain au chocolat into his mouth whole so he has his hands free, fumbling for his phone as he starts to film how the colour drains from Hoseok’s face as you give him a brief synopsis of the prison and other places you’ll be going to while in Pennsylvania. This isn’t even for Unsolved; Taehyung just likes to have video evidence and receipts for everything, if his camera reel is anything to go by. Even though you’re vague with your descriptions- you like Hoseok’s reaction on camera to be as unscripted and natural as it can possibly be, when you finally turn up at your locations and then set up so that you can talk about it- once you’re finished, Hoseok is curled up against you, hiding his face in your neck.

“Why can’t we go somewhere nice for once?” He whines, and you can’t help but laugh.

“Budget doesn’t cover it, that’s why we have to sleep at haunted hotels. They’re cheaper.” Hoseok meeps again, and you relent, lifting your hand to cup the back of his head. “Don’t worry, I won’t abandon you,” you say, stroking his hair as you use your free hand to clumsily scroll through your phone, double checking the details of your planned trip.

“I know.” Hoseok is uncharacteristically quiet against your collarbones. Taehyung gives up filming and rips into another pain au chocolat packet, smiling guiltily at his seat neighbour when she tuts at him. “You never do.”

Despite Hoseok’s fear of a lot of things related to the show, and the fact he jumps and screams at pretty much everything, he’s never asked to bow out or avoid doing something. He even agrees to go into areas alone when the two of you try to ‘make contact’ with spirits, even though he’s obviously terrified- but each and every time before you part, you promise that you’re not going anywhere and you’ll be waiting right outside for him. You would never abandon Hoseok (even though ghosts probably aren’t real and he has nothing to worry about), and he knows that, and takes strength from it. It warms you.

He keeps his head nestled against your neck for a beat longer, and then smacks a loud kiss against your skin, which makes you squeal and slap him away while he laughs. 

--

As fun as it is to jet around the country- especially with Hoseok and the other guys- it's also exhausting, and there’s always something nice about coming home. Even though the increased budget that you’ve been allocated as the show’s been growing in popularity means that you can stay at nicer hotels now, your own bed is still the most comfortable place in the world. (Well, tied with Hoseok’s bed, thinking about it. The two are basically interchangeable at this point anyway, if you consider how often Hoseok ends up sleeping at your apartment and squirreling his way under your blankets as you’re trying to sleep.)

On the other hand, though, in spite of a return to your regular creature comforts, coming home still involves work: there are Q&As to be filmed, footage to edit, later episodes to plan, research to be done. As the original progenitor of Unsolved you take the brunt of the last two parts; Hoseok is the one who reacts to the facts you throw out, he’s not the one who investigates the different things you talk about on the show, but he’s always there to support you and talk to you whenever you need it. 

(Your audience knows Hoseok as someone who is cute and bright and cheerful, but he’s also quietly thoughtful and surprisingly serious when he has to be. That’s the side of him that you get to see whenever you stay late at the office, your desk lamp the only one left on in the room, hunched over your keyboard as you trawl through conspiracy threads in the deep bowels of the internet that are discussing who D.B. Cooper is. You love loud Hoseok, of course, but you appreciate this hushed part of him, too- the way he'll deliver you a hot chocolate with a kiss to your forehead before quietly sitting beside you and waiting for you to finish so he can take you home.)

Anyway. Coming home means coming back to the office, means putting in shifts at BigHit headquarters, etc, etc, all that jazz, so here you are, sitting on Hoseok’s lap and scrolling through your tablet as he does something of his own on his PC. The first time this had happened, it had raised eyebrows- not because it was considered inappropriate or anything, as BigHit is the kind of place where people can make out in hallways to ‘test the longevity of this 24 hour lipstick’ for a video and no one bats an eyelash, but because up until this point, you’d been renowned for pretty much being glued to your desk while working. But you like Hoseok and his energy, even when he’s not doing anything, and his lap is comfortable, even if he doesn’t exactly have the world’s thickest thighs. You work better when you’re around him. 

You’re scrolling through Instagram comments for questions to answer in this week’s Q&A episode when someone clears their throat. Both you and Hoseok look up in tandem to find Seokjin standing there, looking decidedly more grey-haired than he had the last time you’d seen him. He pulls it off effortlessly, of course. 

“What’s up, silver fox?” You let your tablet droop into your lap as Hoseok takes his hands off his mouse and keyboard and secures them around your waist instead, so you don’t slide off his legs. His hands are warm where they splay across your stomach and you can feel the bumps and texture of his bracelets through the material of your shirt. “Liking the new look, by the way.”

“You look really good, Jin-hyung,” Hoseok says from over your shoulder, and you nod in agreement.

“I know.” Jin sounds flippant but he seems pleased. He doesn’t say anything more than that, though, and just looks at the two of you expectantly. You both blink back at him.

“So… did you come over just to be complimented, or?” You slowly start to lift your tablet, acting as if you’re about to start reading off your screen again. “Were the thirsty comments on your latest video not enough for you today?”

Jin raises an eyebrow as he pretends to inspect his nails. “No, no, there were plenty of comments, as always,” he says loftily. Unsurprising, considering his unofficial(/basically official) title of Most Handsome Face in the office as well as the leagues of fans he has. He lets his hand drop as he quickly gives up pretending to be aloof. “So when are you planning to fit making pineapple pie into your schedule?”

“Oh!” Hoseok squeezes you in his excitement and you wiggle a little in his lap. “I almost forgot about that! Did Tae mention it to you?”

“Jimin too. They burst into the kitchen while I was filming and they were both holding a piece of Filipino pineapple pie aloft like they were wielding Excalibur, so, yes, you can say that it was mentioned,” Jin says, and you can’t help but wince. Being interrupted while filming is one thing, but the Tasty studio can be hazardous on top of that (y’know, what with the knives and fire and stuff), so you can only hope that Jin wasn’t using a mandolin or something when they had appeared. 

“Oof.” You wiggle your hips again and Hoseok immediately catches your drift, turning his chair so the two of you are facing Jin fully rather than having to turn your heads to look at him. Jin makes a weird expression, something you can’t put a name to, but it slips away too fast for you to catch properly- maybe he just had a sudden chill or something, who knows. “Sorry about them. How about I email you our filming schedule and you can see when you’re free as well? We were going to film a 70th episode retrospective soon and the pineapple pie video might be a nice sort of bonus on top of that.”

Jin agrees easily. You use your tablet to open the Google Calendar that you have with Hoseok, which makes Jin pause when he notices. “You share a GCal?”

“Duh?” You flick a look at Jin through your lashes. You and Hoseok have GCal where you input your work schedules to avoid potential clashes when you need to film together, but you also put in other plans the two of you have outside of work, if it’s ever necessary. “Why wouldn’t we? It makes it easier when we need to plan things for Unsolved.”

“Uh-huh.” Jin sounds sceptical, but you decide not to address it. You miss the look he gives Hoseok as you scroll through your calendar, the two men having a silent exchange as you start to draft an email. Somewhere across the office you hear Yoongi shout out an expletive and two sets of cackling laughter that sound suspiciously like Taehyung and Jungkook; you and Hoseok turn at the sound, but you don’t spot anything from where you’re sat. “Alright, I think that’s my cue to leave,” Jin says, and promptly dips before he gets dragged into whatever’s going on.

Whatever shenanigans Jungkook and Taehyung have gotten up to seem to be pinpointed to one area, so you avoid any fall out, and Hoseok eventually excuses himself to go to the toilet. You take over his chair while he’s gone. Asides from yourself, both computers at this desk are entirely abandoned- Yoongi is still absent, nowhere to be seen- and you’re tapping away at your tablet when all of a sudden you have a camera shoved in your face. 

For once it’s not Jimin or Taehyung or Jungkook, and instead when you look up you see Irene and Seulgi, the latter girl beaming at you while Irene holds the camera. Seulgi says your name and points at you with a perfectly manicured nail, and you blink at her, completely caught off guard. Irene zooms in on your bewildered expression.

“Um, hey guys,” you say. “What’s up? Need me for something?”

“We wanted to ask if you wanted to guest star in the next Ladylike video!” Seulgi chirps brightly, and you’re immediately on guard. While the offer seems innocent enough on the surface you can’t help but wonder if the next video is one of their wilder ones (you don’t care if the underwear is silver-infused and apparently wicks away smell and moisture, you flat out refuse to wear the same panties for a whole week). Fortunately your fears are assuaged when Seulgi seems to read your mind and answers your question before you have the chance to ask it. “We’re trying to recreate elaborate Instagram makeup looks with dollar store makeup.”

Irene giggles behind the camera when you visibly relax. “I’m in, that sounds fun,” you say, and both girls seem inordinately pleased. “Um, when are you planning to shoot it?”

“Tomorrow! It won’t take long, we promise,” Seulgi says. “You just need to be free for filming, we’ll do all the editing and stuff.”

You finalise the exact time you need to be available by and by the time Hoseok comes back from the toilet both girls have just gone. You stand up so that he can reclaim his seat, eyes glued to your tablet as you open up your Google Calendar so you can put the Ladylike video filming in, but you’re interrupted when Hoseok grabs you. You squeal in surprise when he tugs you back down rather than letting you sit down yourself, tablet getting sandwiched between the two of you as you end up straddling him in a desperate attempt to catch your balance- but before you can resituate yourself he starts to tickle you and you end up laughing uproariously into his face.

“Cute, cute, my Y/n is so cute,” he sing-songs, and you continue to laugh as you try to bat his hands away.

“Stop, oh my God, Hobi!” There are tears of laughter in the corners of your eyes as you squirm in his lap, trying to get away from his hands but being prevented from doing so by the desk at your back; you’re trapped between it and Hoseok, entirely at his mercy as the two of you giggle at each other.

“You realise other people work here, right?”

Yoongi has finally reappeared. He sounds disgruntled, but you put it down to the fact he has KITTY AVAILABLE FOR ADOPTION and a phone number scrawled across his face in what appears to be permanent marker, rather than at the fact that you and Hoseok are making noise. As Hoseok’s deskmate he’s used to this sort of behaviour by now.

“Hey hyung,” Hoseok says, shameless as his fingers continue to dance up and down your sides, although the touches are light enough now that you can turn your attention away from giggling to appreciate Yoongi’s new look. “Did you have a good nap?”

“A cat nap,” you say, and then giggle at the unimpressed look Yoongi throws your way- it’s hard to find him scary with the multi-coloured letters scribbled over his face.

He grunts as he sits down. “I’ll kill those kids,” he says, but there’s no real heat behind his words, and he slumps into his chair with a resigned sigh. “I kept scrubbing at my face but this shit won’t come off.”

You exchange a look with Hoseok, the two of you thinking about the hand sanitiser you keep in your handbag- the alcoholic gel would probably lift the ink off Yoongi’s face, but neither of you offer up this information. “I’m sure it’ll come off by tomorrow,” you say, and Yoongi makes a hopeful noise at the back of this throat. "Any particular reason why you've decided to act as a walking billboard for abandoned cats?"

"Thing 1 and Thing 2 said they were raising awareness for a local cat shelter and asked if I wanted to help. I said yes." Yoongi sounds rueful. 

"I feel very aware of it, hyung, so I'd say they did a good job." Hoseok laughs when Yoongi just flips him off.

Hoseok’s hands have gone still by this point. It’s not until Yoongi starts to tap at his keyboard that you remember the position you’re in, straddling Hoseok in his chair, your hands on his shoulders and his hands on your waist as you lean back against his desk- but as questionable and potentially incriminating as this entire situation seems out of context, literally no one is batting an eyelid. People are used to seeing this sort of thing from you two, both comfortable and not awkward with each other at all.

Hoseok's hands are warm and steady where they wrap around your waist. You're struck again by how large they feel- supportive, as always, when he holds you. 

"Mind letting me go, cowboy?" You say. "I should go back to my desk to get some work done."

"You're more of a cowboy in this situation," Hoseok says, wiggling his eyebrows at you. "Seeing as you're the one that's doing the riding."

"Good lord," Yoongi mutters.

You laugh at the expression on his face before Hoseok wheels you both away from the desk so that you have room to swing your legs off him. "That's dirty, Hobi," you say, but it's said with a smile and wink.

After you've disappeared, waving at the two men, Yoongi raises an eyebrow at Hoseok. "I know you two are basically married at this point, but can you try and rein in the flirting when I'm trying to work?"

"We weren't flirting," Hoseok protests. Yoongi looks unconvinced, his other eyebrow rising to match the first, and just shakes his head before he resumes Googling ways to get the permanent marker off his face.

--

Irene’s touch is light as she puts the makeup onto your face, surveying her work critically as she does. 

“Alright, that’s the foundation done,” she says, once everything seems to have passed whatever rigorous criteria she has. “So we're onto the concealer next.”

There’s something soothing about having someone else do your makeup. Not to mention that you don’t have to worry at all about the production of the video- with your usual projects, your level of investment means that there’s always something to think about, but right now all you have to do is sit there and look pretty. You do listen and react whenever Irene shows you the products and so on, but otherwise, you are literally just sitting there and letting the other woman put stuff on your face; you can relax and unwind and let her take the lead.

Irene has just finished blending the concealer under your eyes when your phone vibrates in your pocket. While she's rummaging for the next product- setting powder- you quickly check your phone to see if it's anything important. It's Hoseok, asking where you are, because he has a coffee and Danish pastry for you and he can't find you; you realise then that you never put the Ladylike video filming into your calendar, distracted by Hoseok grabbing you, and today you'd just disappeared without telling him where you were going. Oops.

You quickly shoot him a reply before Irene starts to brush the powder across your face and you're both surprised at how well it sets. "Your skin is so nice," Irene says with a smile, sweeping the brush over your cheeks. You try not to laugh when the bristles tickles your face, flattered at her comment.

She's just finished doing your brows when you hear the studio door open and you catch sight of Hoseok. He's staying off camera next to Wendy so he doesn't get in the shot, quiet and unobtrusive, but you can't help but perk up when you see him. Although you stay silent so that it doesn’t interrupt the filming, Irene notices how you brighten and pauses in her motions to look over where Hoseok is standing.

"Hi, Hoseok." Much to your surprise, despite the fact that the cameras are rolling, Irene still greets Hoseok. You thought she'd make him wait until you were done. "You're here for Y/n, I presume?"

"I have a coffee for her," Hoseok says, a little sheepish, holding up an iced macchiato and a paper bag that's got a small grease stain spreading on it, a tantalising glimpse of the deliciousness inside. "I just came to drop it off?"

"I don't deserve you, Hobi," you say, beaming, and he smiles back at you. 

Irene gestures for Hoseok to come into the frame. There’s a brief moment where you and Hoseok exchange a small, surprised look- Irene is rummaging through eyeshadow palettes and seems like she’s still going through with the video even though Hoseok is about to walk on set- but he acquiesces and steps into the shot. Irene points at the Instagram photo she has open on her iPad, which is propped on the table so she can use it for reference and zoom in if necessary. “We’re doing this look with dollar store products."

“Woah,” Hoseok says, leaning down to peer at the picture, and he sounds suitably awed. “That’s really nice. You’ve chosen one with all of Y/n’s favourite colours.”

“It’s cute, right?” You’re so excited to see the final product, even if it ends up not looking as good as what you can see on the screen, considering the cheapness of the makeup that Irene is using.

“Not as cute as you,” Hoseok says, and you blow him a kiss before looking at the iced macchiato in his hands meaningfully.

“Coffee, coffee?” You sound hopeful but Irene tuts.

“You’ll need to keep your eyes shut while I do your eyeshadow,” she says.

Before you can begin to feel disappointed, Hoseok comes to the rescue. “Don’t worry baby, I’ve got you.”

And so that’s how you end up with Hoseok holding the straw of your iced coffee up to your lips while Irene applies the different shades and shimmers to your eyelids, your eyes shut as she does so; Hoseok makes appropriate ooh-ing noises, bowled over by how she manages to blend the cheap eyeshadows before doing a cut crease- you have to keep your eyes shut the whole time, letting the concealer dry on your lids so that it doesn’t smudge, gauging how it looks based on Hoseok's reactions. 

Every so often Hoseok will make a small noise and then you’ll feel the straw press up against your lips, and you’ll take a sip of your drink while Irene is switching colours or brushes; you feel thoroughly pampered today and you’re enjoying it immensely. She’s been describing the different products and their quality to the camera throughout the whole video, but now that Hoseok’s there, he responds to what she’s saying, making her giggle with how enthusiastic he is despite not recognising all the terminology she’s using. Although your eyes are shut you can't help but smile: that's your Hoseok, always lightening the atmosphere and making people laugh.

“Alright, you can open your eyes,” Irene says after what feels like a lifetime. The liquid eyeliner has dried by the time your eyes flutter open, the stark blackness against the expertly blended eyeshadows the first thing you notice when you look at yourself in the mirror.

“Woah, Irene! This is incredible!" You turn your head from side to side, taking in how different your eyes look after the ministrations of Irene's skilled hands. "Hobi, look at those wings! I wish I could get mine that even.” You don’t often wear liquid liner and when you do it takes you eons to get them to match, making each side bigger as you try to match the other- most of the time you just give up.

“You do look incredible,” Hoseok agrees. You look away from the mirror to smile brightly at him and then take another drink of coffee when he lifts it back up to your lips; the straw makes loud slurping noises as you reach the bottom of the cup and you end up sucking up more air than liquid, much to your disappointment. He chuckles at the look on your face but then coos when you pout. 

“I’m not done just yet, you know,” Irene says, unperturbed by your interactions. You wonder how this footage is going to turn out after the edit. “We still have lips and cheeks to do.”

Despite the fact your coffee is finished, Hoseok still remains next to you and watches Irene work. She lines your lips and then paints them a pleasant nude colour, before going in with an extra touch to your contour, and blush, and highlight (you’re genuinely in awe at the selection of makeup you can apparently get for a dollar each). There are so many steps involved in the execution of this look and you wonder how long it would take you to try and do this yourself, before deciding there aren’t enough hours in the day, even if Irene makes it look easy, finishing your face with a flourish.

“Alright, done!”

You pick the mirror up to tilt your head at different angles. You catch the way the highlight shimmers on your cheekbones and cupid’s bow, the way your eyes look after they’ve been shaded with colour and glitter, the sharpness of your brows, the fullness of your lips. 

“I can’t believe this was all dollar store makeup,” you say, awestruck. “It’s so much like the photo! I look so good.”

“Irene had an already perfect canvas to work with,” Hoseok says, and you end up smiling so widely your eyes almost squeeze shut.

“Flatterer,” you say.

“You two are so cute.” Seulgi sighs wistfully from behind the cameras and Wendy muffles a quiet cough into her palm.

Irene asks for your opinions on the makeup- you, moreso on how it feels on your face, and Hoseok, if he thinks it looks close to the Instagram photo (he does, but he's clearly biased because you're involved, which he doesn't try to hide). Once the cameras have been cut and everything has been wrapped up, Irene says you can go and so you hop off your chair. Before you can get too far, though, Hoseok stops you, touching his fingers gently under your chin. 

“Let me have a proper look.”

You immediately relax and let him tip your head slowly from one side to the other, eyes scanning across your makeup, which feels a lot heavier than you’d expected, but you’re still happy with how nice it is.

“Wah, so beautiful,” Hoseok says, a small smile on his face; it’s one of his softer ones, one that doesn’t show his teeth or his dimples, but rather squeezes his eyes into crescents, his gaze warm. Still blinding but in a different way.

“Irene did a really good job, didn’t she?” You say, enthused. Hoseok pauses, but then his teeth show as the smile grows.

“Yeah, she did.”

"Maybe I should get her to give me makeup lessons so I can look prettier more often." You've never been all too great at the more refined parts of makeup- blending eyeshadow or contouring, for example- but maybe you should add it to your repertoire, you muse.

Hoseok's smile dims as he becomes oddly sombre, hand shifting to cup the bottom of your chin so your face is gently cradled in his hand. "You're gorgeous all the time, makeup or not," he says. "Makeup is fun and you do look great but please don't think you need it to be pretty."

A shy smile plays at your lips. You feel bashful but you can't hide from Hoseok's gaze when he's holding onto you like this, but it wouldn’t matter even if you did. Hoseok knows you well enough to read your moods if you attempt to hide them- but because you trust him you don’t try to. 

"Ahh, you're too sweet to me, Hoseok," you murmur. He always compliments you, but the thing with Hoseok is that he always means it, and although you should be used to it, it still catches you off guard every time. 

"You deserve it." The soft smile has returned to his face and he lets his fingers drop away from your chin to tangle with yours to lead you out of the studio. “Now come on, you still have your pastry to eat.”

“I totally forgot about that! Oh, but I’ll probably smudge my lipstick.” Your sudden excitement about food dips instantly as you realise this. “I mean, I doubt dollar store stuff has much staying power anyway, but it’ll definitely smear onto the pastry, like, immediately.”

“I’ll cut it up into small pieces for you,” Hoseok says, and you make a noise of happiness as the door to the Ladylike studio shuts behind you both.

Seulgi and Wendy and Irene all look at each other, the two of you all but forgetting that they'd been standing there and had thus witnessed that entire exchange in excruciating detail. Wendy and Seulgi both open their mouths but before they can speak Irene holds up a hand. “I know,” she says. “Trust me. I know.”

--

Around the office, Jin might be renowned for his silliness, propensity towards dad jokes and loud laughter, but on set- while he’s still very much himself- he’s a professional and takes safety in the kitchen Very Seriously.

“If you damage any of my equipment with your clumsy fingers, I will grate so much parmesan down your throat that you die of cheese asphyxiation.”

“Sounds kinky,” Hoseok laughs, but then he jumps behind you when Jin brandishes a decorative pineapple at him as if he’s about to brain the other man. 

“Babe, I’m not about to explain to your family that your final words were, and I quote, ‘sounds kinky’, especially if it was before Jin offed you via fermented dairy products,” you say, although you still shield Hoseok with your body- as if there was any chance you’d be able to stop Jin if he was on the warpath. His shoulders are so broad. Still, you’d fight him for Hoseok if you had to.

“My family love you, I think they’d be okay with it,” Hoseok says from behind you. Jin makes a weird expression with his face before he sets the pineapple back down onto the table next to the rest of your equipment, raising his eyebrows at something; before you can ask what’s up, you’re distracted by the sensation of Hoseok’s hands coming to rest on your shoulders. “It’s okay, Jin, Y/n and I cook together all the time. We won’t mess up.”

“Hobi’s really good at cooking,” you pipe up, and Hoseok affectionately nuzzles at the crown of your head. You cook dinner together at least once a week, trying to use different recipes each time- cooking is a great hobby because you get food at the end of it, and cooking with Hoseok is especially great because you get an excuse to break out the candles and fancy tablecloth your mother had gifted you, even if your food is something simple. 

(You never thought you’d learn multiple ways to fold a napkin, but Hoseok is always so excited whenever he sees you start to crimp them into shape, so you like to mix things up for him.)

Jin’s face shifts back into that look that you’re starting to think looks like he’s eaten something that he’s not sure if he likes or not- a little disbelieving, perplexed, resigned. You never get a chance to ask why, though: Jin claps his hands and tells you to put on your aprons so you can start filming, and you eagerly pull it over your head before helping Hoseok tie his behind his back. (Jin makes the face again, but you’re too busy tying a cute bow to notice.)

Jin seems genuinely impressed when it turns out that the two of you have been telling the truth. Of course, the Tasty team member is directing you and giving instructions so it’s not as difficult as it might be otherwise, but he ends up surprisingly uninvolved with the physical part of the process; you and Hoseok hand jobs off to each other and work in tandem to prepare the dough and filling, and once the pie is in the oven you even begin to clean everything up unprompted, moving around each other with an unconscious level of ease. 

Jin just ends up sitting on a stool and watching you do his ‘minion work’ although you think he just doesn’t want to get in the way. Hoseok hipchecks you gently and then giggles when you pretend to be pushed back by the strength of the motion and flop dramatically over the sink.

“How often do you two cook together?” Although the question is technically directed at the both of you, for some reason you get the feeling that Jin is aiming this more towards Hoseok, who answers him.

“Usually two or three times a week,” Hoseok says.

“Hmm. I see.” Jin looks thoughtful, and you can’t help but feel like there’s something you’re missing in this simple question and answer exchange. Hoseok has an expression on his face that you’ve never seen before- which you’d thought was impossible, because you know Hoseok inside and out, and it’s confusing. You feel surprisingly unsettled by it.

Your best friend seems like he’s trying to cut whatever tension’s in the air by turning his attention back to tidying up, but he fumbles when he goes to shut a drawer and catches his fingers. He’s barely had time to make a small ow noise before you’re there, lifting his hand and inspecting it carefully. “Stop distracting my boy, Jin, let him focus on cleaning up your messy ass kitchen,” you say.

“Excuse you, my kitchen is a temple, it’s only a mess because you’ve been in here,” Jin says primly.

“Sounds like something a messy person would say.” You would roll your eyes but they’re focused on the reddened skin of Hoseok’s fingers. They just look slightly pinched, nothing major, but still. You’re careful when you touch him. You don’t want him to hurt any further. “Are you okay, baby?”

“No.” He sniffles and his lip wobbles dramatically and you laugh. You do what you always do when Hoseok hurts himself in some small, superficial way- you lift his hand to your lips and gently kiss the fingers he’d gotten caught, inflamed skin already fading back to its usual colour, pain clearly already gone. 

“There,” you declare. “All better.”

Hoseok’s expression is warm and tender as he looks at you, his fingers still cradled in yours as you look up from your touching hands, and your gazes lock. There’s a brief moment of stillness, a second that starts to crystallise into something more, and you’d swear his face had just started inching forwards when there’s suddenly an almighty clattering noise from behind you and you both jump, the moment broken.

“Oops,” Jin says blithely. You turn around to discover that all the pineapple related knick-knacks and decor on the table are now scattered on the floor around him, a tangle of paper decorations and plastic fruit that’s rolling across the room. “I seem to have slipped.”

“Weren’t you just going on about how messy we were?” You raise an eyebrow at him, but you’ve already turned away from Hoseok to squat down and help Jin tidy up, chasing down an errant pineapple. You don’t see the pointed look that Jin gives Hoseok behind your back, and when you turn around with the over-large pineapple clutched in your arms, both men seem to be acting like normal. “I’m going to pay Namjoon to keep that in the final cut so everyone can see how chaotic you are in the kitchen.”

“Joonie would never betray me like that,” Jin says with completely unearned confidence, just like he does with most things- but the sad thing is, he’s right. Namjoon is too much of a professional to keep unnecessary shots in the video, and besides, Jin seems able to get away with being outrageously chaotic because he’s so charming and pulls it off so well. If the footage of him somehow sending everything to the floor was kept in the video, people would probably love it.

Once the pie is done cooking and has finally cooled enough for Jin to cut it into triangular shapes, you’re so excited to eat it that you’re bouncing up and down on the spot a little. Hoseok is too. Jin humours your excitement with understanding- he loves to eat too- although he raises his eyebrows at the way you and Hoseok lock your arms together before you lean forward to take a bite of the pineapple pie. You let out a muffled little groan into the pastry once it finally touches your tongue, sweet tartness of the pineapple exploding across your tastebuds, pastry buttery and flakey as it melts in your mouth.

“Jin, this is so good,” you say, and Hoseok hums around a mouthful of fruit filling in agreement.

“I think your ghost was onto something,” Jin says. He’s already polished off his slice, while you and Hoseok are barely halfway through your own, disentangling your arms so you can focus on eating properly. Sometimes you wonder if Jin just unhinges his jaw and swallows things whole because you’ve never seen someone who can eat as quickly as he can. “They could see you pining.”

Your face twists in confusion. “What?”

“You know… pining… like a pineapple,” Jin says, before giggling to himself like he’s just told the world’s funniest joke. You raise your eyebrows at Hoseok, but then you take another bite of the pie and immediately forget about Jin’s cryptic nonsense.

“This is so good, isn’t it, Hobi?” You ask.

“It’s so sweet and light and delicious,” Hoseok says. “It’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted.”

“I thought we were talking about the pie, not me, Hoseok,” Jin says, and then lets out peals of squeaky laughter when you roll your eyes.

“You’re incorrigible.”

“I think you can get a cream for that,” Jin continues to laugh, before you throw a paper pineapple at him.

--

There’s still pie left over the next day. Of course, you’ve saved slices for the rest of your crew. Jimin and Taehyung are snacking on slices of pie as they help each other set up the cameras and mics in the studio, making sure the lighting hits you and Hoseok so that you stand out against the room behind you. Today’s the day you’ve set aside to film the 70th episode, and you’re excited for the chance to do an official retrospective of the show so that you can look back at all the places you’ve been to and the things you’ve discussed, as well as plans for the future.

“Did the two of you coordinate your outfits for the video?” Tae says curiously, and you glance down at your clothes. It’s only then you realise that- although your outfit is darker than his- there are flowers on Hoseok’s bomber jacket and your dress is covered in a floral pattern.

“Huh, I didn’t even notice,” you mutter as you pluck at your dress.  “Guess we’re just telepathic.”

Hoseok stays silent, strangely enough, but when you hold your hand up for a high five he responds enthusiastically and continues to grip your hand afterwards, which makes you laugh. “That’s friendship,” he says, and you laugh again, squeezing his hand.

The two of you keep laughing as the cameras start to roll, watching the clips from your most popular episodes so far, between answering commonly asked questions from fans- one of the more frequently asked being ‘why did Hoseok agree to be a co-host when he always seems scared during filming and screams all the time?’

You read this question off your list and Hoseok’s answer is immediate. “Y/n is one of the hardest workers I know,” he says. “So I was excited to be invited on board for a show that she had created. And I wouldn’t say that I’m always screaming-”

“Yeah, when you have to pause to breathe,” you interject, and he laughs.

“Sure,” he says indulgently. “But, honestly, when Y/n is there it’s easy to forget that we’re standing in some terrifying old building or haunted tomb or whatever.” You rest your chin on your hand as you watch him continue to speak. “I would honestly be a lot more scared if she wasn’t there. She’s very good at distracting me if I’m getting too worried. She’s very comforting.”

“That’s a nice way of saying that I’m basically a defence mechanism for you.”

“Basically.” Hoseok grins at you so widely, teeth on show, gorgeous. 

Now that he mentions it, it’s true that as your friendship has grown, his fear has ebbed; although he still screams as loudly as before, it happens less often, but because sudden noises and jump scares always startle him, it still happens a lot. If you don’t take the time to reflect it’s kind of easy to forget how your friendship has grown over time, which is why it’s another good reason to have this retrospective- for the sake of the series, sure, but your relationship with Hoseok has grown as the show has, too.

When you flip over the final page to read the final question, you’re surprised to see an extra one tacked onto the end- you’d been the one to select them, after all, and this one has been added after the fact, someone’s messy handwriting scratched across the paper. You don’t recognise the writing. Honestly it kind of looks like someone had written it with their non-dominant hand to avoid detection, almost like a child’s writing from a cartoon, all but missing the backward E’s- but the question is pretty innocuous, so you figure you may as well answer it. You can just ask Namjoon to cut the footage later if you don’t like it.

“Y/n: If Hoseok decided to quit being your co-host, who would you want to replace him?” You squint at the paper as you decipher the scrawl, not seeing how Jimin and Taehyung exchange a sly, down-low high five off camera. “Huh.”

“You started the series with Yoongi, right?” Hoseok pipes up. “Would you bring him back?”

You’d chosen Yoongi as your original co-host for Unsolved because you vibed well and had pretty similar opinions when it came to a lot of things, and you’d worked well together in the past, but the truth is that- “No, I wouldn’t,” you say immediately. Hoseok seems genuinely surprised. “Honestly, if you stopped co-hosting with me, that would be the end of Unsolved. Hoseok and I are a package deal at this point and I would never consider filming the show without him.”

Hoseok looks stunned, but you keep going. “The show wouldn’t exist without Hoseok. Yoongi was great for the videos he was in, but- even if he didn’t have other commitments, he couldn’t take over from Hobi. Unsolved isn’t just a show about the supernatural, or crimes, it’s about us dealing with the supernatural or true crimes,” you continue, and then your nose wrinkles as you realise what you’ve said. “Well, we don’t directly deal with true crimes, fortunately. I’d make a terrible detective. My hand isn’t steady enough to draw one of those chalk outlines, y’know? I’d probably just end up drawing someone who looked suspiciously like Kirby. Anyway, Hoseok is my best friend as well as my co-host; if you get one of us, you get both of us, and if you don’t get both of us, you get neither of us.”

“I love you, Y/n,” Hoseok says. It’s not the first time he’s said this to you, but you think it’s the first time he’s ever said it on camera, and his tone is strangely earnest. He must be getting really nostalgic about the start of the show if it’s making him sound like that.

“Love you too, Hobi.” You beam at him. “I’m really glad we became friends.”

Behind the cameras, Taehyung makes a weird croaking sound and Jimin hits him hard on the arm.

“Uh, normally when someone's choking you hit them on the back, Minnie,” you say.

“I’m not choking, I’m fine,” Taehyung wheezes. Jimin punches him again.

“Uh-huh.” You raise an eyebrow. “Anyway. What was I saying. Oh! Yeah, referring back to the question- while I would never stop him if he thought it was the right thing to do, I certainly hope that Hobi doesn’t want to quit being a co-host.”

“I would never.” Hoseok’s expression is weirdly intense as he says this and you can’t help but laugh.

“Good! I’m glad we’re both in it for the long haul.”

Taehyung still looks kind of constipated once filming is over, but before you can ask him what’s up, Jimin pulls him to the corner of the room and the two men exchange some quiet words. They seem oddly serious and you purse your lips as you try to work out what’s going on, but then Hoseok’s hand slips into yours and your attention is drawn away from them.

“Celebratory 70th episode filming dinner?”

“I thought we were going to have a celebratory dinner with our minions when the episode actually aired,” you say, tilting your head at Taehyung and Jimin. “Didn’t you put it in the GCal?”

“I meant just you and me,” Hoseok says, squeezing your hand gently. “A co-host only dinner.”

“Ooh, we’re in an exclusive club, are we?” You giggle and squeeze his hand back. “Sure, why not. Can we have pizza? I’m feeling like pizza.”

“You can have anything you want, baby,” Hoseok answers, affection written across all his features. You go all wobbly inside, your insides melting into a puddle of goo at how warm and tender he is. You love your best friend so much. “Let’s leave those two to it, it seems like they’re busy.”

You look back over at your cameramen. Jimin has his cheeks puffed out and Taehyung looks chagrined. You purse your lips again, a little unsure if you should leave them if they’re having some sort of disagreement, but then Hoseok slips his hand out of yours and crouches down in a way that you recognise instantly. You make a noise of happiness and leap up, letting him lift you into a piggyback; you lock your arms around his neck and start to giggle as he bounces you a little, getting his hands comfortable under your calves.

“We’re off!” Hoseok announces. Jimin and Taehyung look away from their discussion to the two of you, their expressions both mirrors of each other as their eyebrows rise in unison when they spot how Hoseok is carrying you. “We’ll leave you to tidy the studio.”

“Enjoy the rest of the pie!” You wiggle your fingers at them in a little wave before squealing when Hoseok hitches you up his back again without warning, tightening your grip on him. “Pizza time, Hobi, let’s go.”

“Your wish is my command, princess,” Hoseok says, waggling his eyebrows in a way that makes you laugh before you bury your head in his hair, stifling your giggles against his scalp. He smells so nice and soft and lovely, familiar, like home.

“Wow, they’re unbelievable,” Jimin whispers behind you, though you don’t hear him, more focused on not bumping your head in the doorway as Hoseok walks you both out of the studio. 

You end up going to your favourite pizzeria, sitting at your usual booth in the corner. You’ve been here so many times with Hoseok that you don’t need to look at the menu and just order your usual half-and-half, feeding each other slices of garlic bread and struggling with the gooey, molten cheese that seems to stretch endlessly from your slices of pizza. You feel warm and comfortable, your feet brushing under the small table whenever you shift your legs, laughing each time Hoseok traps your foot under his before letting you go.

“I can’t believe we’ve done 70 episodes,” you say, leaning back against the smooth leather of the booth seat after you’ve stolen a sip of Hoseok’s Sprite. “I never thought we’d get this far. I honestly thought you’d have died of fright by now,” you tease, swinging your leg gently against his.

“If I die, I’ll haunt you from beyond the grave,” Hoseok says, pulling a face at you that’s clearly meant to be ghoulish, and you laugh.

“I’ll take the spirit box home from work so you can talk to me.” You lean your elbow on the table and rest your chin on your palm, still smiling. “Obviously you’d do the same for me, right?”

“As long as you kept other ghosts away from it,” Hoseok says, shivering. “I don’t want to have to talk to them too.”

“I promise. I’ll be the only thing haunting you, don’t worry.”

Hoseok smiles at you, eyes warm. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

You share a banana split for dessert. You’re pretty full so Hoseok eats the majority of it, which gives you the opportunity to watch him, the way his dimples appear when he chews; you must have watched him eat a thousand times but you’re never any less endeared by the sight.

“I meant what I said, you know,” you say suddenly, and Hoseok looks up, cheeks bulging with ice cream and banana.

“Hmrh?” He makes a noise of questioning around his mouthful of food, and you laugh when you spot a smear of chocolate sauce on his chin. You swipe it away with your thumb before mindlessly sucking it off, too distracted by the sweetness bursting across your tongue to notice how Hoseok stares at the motion with wide eyes. He swallows. “What?”

“When I said that I was glad that we became friends,” you say. “When I first asked you to star in an episode I never thought we’d end up here, you know? But… I’m really happy. And I really do love you a lot, Hoseok.”

Hoseok smiles all the time. In fact, you’d say he spends more time smiling than he doesn’t, happiness always radiating from his face like sunlight shining down from the sky, golden and bright- but the smile he gives you right now is softer than that. It’s more like the softness of the sunrise, spilling over you through just-opened curtains, warm and gentle and comforting.

“I love you too, Y/n,” he says. “More than anything.”

You put a hand over your face as you giggle bashfully at the earnest look on his face. “Stop,” you whine. “You’re so cheesy, oh my God.”

“You said it first,” Hoseok points out, but he starts to laugh along with you, before the server comes over to give you your bill and you end up fighting over who pays- Hoseok wins, much to your disappointment, but lets you front the tip as a compromise.

As always he catches the subway with you and holds your hand all the way home, only letting go when you get to the door of your apartment building. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning,” he says, and you glance up from where you’ve been rummaging in your bag for your keys.

“Bright and early as always,” you reply, smiling. “I’ll make sure to bring your casserole dish back tomorrow, it’s still on my counter. I’ll make you some lunch to make up for how long I’ve kept it.”

“Okay.” Hoseok watches as you finally unearth your keys, jingling them triumphantly as you do. “Baby?”

“Hm?” You look up from where you’ve been fitting the keys into the lock. “Yes?”

“I meant it when I said it, too.” He looks oddly sombre, none of the usual levity on his face. “I love you more than anything, Y/n.”

Your heart seizes in your chest, stuttering a little at his tone and his expression. He’s told you that he loves you, sure, and you always say it back, but Hoseok’s never said it like this: like there’s more meaning behind his words than normal. You’re staring at him with wide eyes, frozen in place, key still pressed into the lock- but before you can gather your thoughts Hoseok’s face is morphing into his usual smile before he dips forwards and kisses you on the forehead.

“Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow! Don’t forget the casserole dish!” 

And then he’s bouncing down the steps just like he always does, turning momentarily to give you a jaunty wave before walking briskly back in the direction of the subway.

“See you tomorrow,” you echo faintly, feeling off kilter and off balance as you watch him disappear into the distance.

--

Okay. So. You’ve told yourself on multiple occasions that, nowadays, what you feel for Hoseok is entirely platonic. He’s your best friend, and you love him, and it’s very easy to feel romantically inclined towards your friends sometimes because friendship involves love, and you should be friends with your romantic partners anyway, so there’s a lot of overlap. You may have lingering memories of your crush, yes, but you’re over it. 

At least, you could have sworn you were. So why are you projecting onto Hoseok again all of a sudden? When he said he loved you, it wasn’t a romantic confession, despite what your instincts might be telling you. Your brain is screaming at you to look at it logically, and you’re trying your best to tell yourself that, that it Wasn’t Romantic and it was Just Hoseok Being Hoseok, the man who tells all his friends that he loves them on a regular basis, it wasn’t romantic.

“Morning, baby,” Hoseok says, smiling at you, before noticing both the coffees you’re holding. “Ooh, is one of those for me?”

“Hi.” Your voice is weirdly breathless. “Yeah, I got your favourite.”

Hoseok lights up and makes grabby hands at you, and you feel utterly helpless as you hand it over. You feel like Past-Y/n, a previous version of yourself, the one that was still new to BigHit and used to get all in a muddle when Hoseok so much as looked at you. You feel like you’re rediscovering your crush all over again, like some sort of giddy schoolgirl, and you kind of want to slap yourself- but then Hoseok takes a sip of his coffee and makes a little noise of pleasure and all that self-hatred turns to static, replaced with nothing but affection for the man holding the door open for you.

You manage to keep it together pretty well, for the most part, you think. It’s not until you leave your computer to speak to Hoseok about something that you nearly lose it. He sees you coming and smiles widely, instinctively wheeling away his desk and patting his lap in invitation. Your brain goes blank as you panic and you abruptly swerve and act like you were walking over to Jungkook the whole time, missing the way Hoseok’s face drops with disappointment.

You’ve been lurking to one side of Jungkook’s desk for a few minutes before the man acknowledges you, looking away from the video he’s apparently editing to raise an eyebrow at you. 

“Are you lost? Hobi-hyung is over there.” Jungkook starts to point but then you grab his hand before anyone notices, pushing it back down against his desk.

“I know where Hobi is,” you say through gritted teeth. Jungkook blinks at you as you continue to trap his hand against his desk, tightening your grip when his fingers twitch. “I am having a small crisis and I would appreciate it if you let me pretend to have a conversation with you about work.”

Jungkook looks baffled but doesn’t argue, clearly a little scared of how tightly you’re grasping his fingers. “Um, okay,” he says, slowly. “Do you need to hold my hand at the same time?”

You look down at where your hands are still connected before you release him. He flexes his fingers with a wince. “Wow, you’re a lot stronger than you look.” He sounds impressed. “Have you been working out?”

“I bench press the weight of my stupidity daily,” you sigh. Jungkook lets your words pass without comment, putting his free hand back onto his mouse and resuming his work. You squint at his screen, intrigued. “What are you working on?”

You end up perching on Jungkook’s desk as he talks you through his most recent project, and how he and Tae have almost finished putting together the cat shelter video- you coo at all the footage of the different cats, small kittens to mangy strays, scruffy and cute. You’re too busy laughing at the unflattering shots they have of Yoongi while he’d been sleeping before they’d written across his face and you don’t notice how Hoseok keeps looking over with a mix of confusion and almost hurt flashing across his features. 

He doesn't show any of this when you meet him later, though. You’ve recomposed yourself by the time lunch rolls around and you manage to return Hoseok’s casserole dish without fumbling. Despite your inner turmoil last night you’d still made time to pack lunch for the two of you, using the cute lunchboxes that Hoseok’s family had given you last Christmas- he lights up when he sees the dosirak you’ve packed, fluffy rice and other side dishes, all of his favourites.

“You are a blessing,” he says, and you smile as he eagerly dives in. You tackle your own food more slowly, having to approach the kimbap carefully because of how you’d been overzealous with the filling. “Ooh, can I have some of that?”

“Sure,” you say, gesturing at the bite sized slices in the tub in front of you. Instead of taking one of those, however, Hoseok leans forward for the piece of kimbap you’ve already grabbed. You’re frozen in place as you feel his lips around your fingers, teeth lightly grazing your skin as you instinctively surrender the food to his mouth, a light swipe of his tongue over your fingertips to catch the light sheen of sesame oil there, soft and wet against your touch. 

Hoseok leans back and chews like nothing is out of the ordinary- and to be fair, you’ve fed finger foods to him before, it’s not out of the ordinary, but right now you feel like you’re on the verge of a meltdown. Your brain keeps replaying the past few seconds, the softness of his lips around your fingers, the wet of his tongue against them, the way his eyelashes had fanned out against his cheek as he’d glanced down at the food in your hand. You are Very Much Not Okay.

Hoseok is still happily chewing his kimbap, swallowing it down and taking a sip of water before he seems to notice that you’ve gone eerily silent. “Y/n?” He blinks at you. “Are you okay?”

“Uh, yeah,” you say. “Um. I just remembered that I. Have a thing? I have to? Go do? You can eat the rest, seeyoulaterBYE.”

You can’t let this crush rear its head like this again and make your friendship awkward. The two of you have shared the same bed more times than you can count, for God’s sake, and you’ve even discussed rooming together- the rent in LA isn’t exactly cheap, and if you pooled your resources you could get a pretty nice place- and that had all been okay! That hadn’t made you feel strange at all! But Hoseok eats food from your hand like he has a thousand times and you’re spiralling out of control like this? Why is this happening now?

Ugh. Ughughughugh. Stupid.

Namjoon finds you hidden away in the Unsolved studio later, where you’ve absconded with your tablet to try your best to get some work done with your limited resources, hidden away from everyone; it’s weird being in here when you’re not filming, without Hoseok in the seat next to you, so you’re not really doing a great job. (You’ve spent more time blankly watching Queer Eye on Netflix than you have being productive.)

“Hey, Y/n.” Namjoon’s gentle voice is like a balm to your soul. Hoseok might be your best friend now, but Namjoon was your friend first and the two of you are still close, both in and out of work. He’d made you feel comfortable and welcome when you’d first joined the team and continues to support all your projects. He’s a really great friend and colleague and an even better person.

You smile at him as he shuts the door. You can tell he’s trying to do it quietly but ends up accidentally slamming it loudly, and you stifle a laugh as you notice the guilt that appears on his face.

“Joonie! Come on in.” You beckon at the seat next to you, scooting away a little so he plenty of room to sit. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, I just wanted to talk to you about some editing stuff but Hobi said you’d disappeared somewhere for a, um, ‘thing’.” Namjoon doesn’t comment on the fact that you still clearly have Queer Eye open on your tablet, Jonathan’s face a blur on the screen from where you’ve paused it during a transitional shot. Instead he sits carefully down next to you and leans back in the chair, adjusting his glasses; he looks particularly cozy today, with his glasses and jumper and cardigan. He pulls off the Hot Academic look really well. “Any particular reason why you’ve squirreled yourself away here?”

You muffle a sigh, looking down at the notebook you have next to your tablet; what little handwriting is on the page is especially messy and disjointed, reflecting your distracted mind. Namjoon has a naturally reassuring presence anyway but his outfit today seems to accentuate that even further, like you could bury your head into the fuzziness of his jumper and find inner peace.

“Oh, okay, I suppose this is happening,” he says.

Yep, the jumper is just as soft as you’d thought, and it smells nice and soft too. Namjoon doesn’t seem bothered that you’ve smooshed your face into his shoulder and instead he angles himself so you’re both more comfortable, and he starts to pat your back soothingly. It’s nice, of course, but you can’t help but compare his touch to Hoseok’s- Namjoon is more methodical and measured, like he’s thinking about each motion, while Hoseok just seems smoother and more natural because he’s always touching you, second nature by now. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Ughughughughguhguh,” you say articulately into the weave of Namjoon’s clothing. He chuckles warmly.

“Long day?”

Good old Namjoon. A gentle question, open ended, offering you the opportunity to deflect, or tell him the truth. You turn your head to avoid getting jumper lint in your mouth, but stay leaned against him.

“Kind of,” you say. “It’s just…” You struggle to put it into words, but Namjoon just waits patiently while he continues to pat your back. “It’s Hobi?”

Namjoon’s hand goes still, though you’re not sure if it’s because of your words themselves or the tone of them, the way you pitched it up at the end like a question, like you weren’t too sure yourself. “Did he do something?”

“No! No. Yes? No,” you settle on. “No, no he didn’t. It’s not him, it’s me,” you say. “Ugh.”

You end up pulling away from Namjoon to scrub tiredly at your face, not noticing his expression, which he quickly reschools when you look back at him. “We were just doing our usual thing, you know,” you say, and Namjoon nods as he listens, even though your description is incredibly vague and could mean any number of things. “But then he said he loved me and like- we’re best friends, we say we love each other a lot, it’s not unusual or anything, but… I guess it got to me this time? Like it felt like something more than just friendship? He didn’t mean it like that, of course, but I guess it’s hard to, uh, shake that feeling now that it’s gotten into my head.”

“Does it make you uncomfortable?” Although Namjoon seems a little perplexed he’s still clearly concerned, and your eyes widen.

“What? No, no, it’s fine! I don’t mind it. It’s more that-” You pause. You’ve never actually voiced your less-than-platonic feelings for Hoseok out loud, though you’re certain it must have been obvious to start with- even though no one had ever mentioned it or teased you about it, so maybe they hadn't noticed. 

Either way, it sort of feels like once you put the words out into the world then the truth will linger and be unavoidable in a way that you’ve been desperately avoiding so far. But it’s just you, and Namjoon, and you would trust Namjoon with your life, even if you wouldn’t trust him to hold anything fragile or delicate. “It’s not the idea of Hoseok loving me like that that makes me uncomfortable. I just don’t want things to be weird?” Namjoon continues to look levelly at you, waiting patiently for you to get to the point, and you take in a deep breath. “IhaveacrushonHobi,” you rush out. “And I don’t want to ruin the friendship by reading into things too much because I’m being overly hopeful or something.”

Namjoon pauses. He looks thoughtful as he fixes his gaze on you through his glasses. “Y/n.” He sounds solemn, like he’s discussing something of deep importance, like your tiny breakdown over your best friend requires the same level of gravity as the rapid disappearance of bees, or climate change- like it’s something world changing and heavy and important. He’s not doing what you’ve done over the years, as in, desperately tried to minimise your feelings just so you can stay sane. “You sound unhappy about it.”

“I am unhappy about it,” you say, unhappy. “Hobi is my best friend and I do love him a lot, and I’m happy being friends, and I reallyreallyreally don’t want to make things weird. I should be used to this by now, it’s not like what he and I do is anything I’m not used to.”

“Things change when romantic feelings develop,” Namjoon says, ever patient, and you let out a pained little groan.

“It’s not- these feelings aren’t new, Namjoon.” You sigh, and for the first time since you started this conversation, Namjoon looks surprised. Guess your crush on Hoseok hadn’t been obvious in the beginning, then. “I don’t know if I ever told you that I met Hoseok before I even got a job here, technically?”

You’d come out of your BigHit interview feeling unsure. Off balance. You hadn’t known if you’d come across as desperate and too eager to please, rather than a go-getter team player, but all you’d been able to think about was how getting a job at BigHit would mean that you could finally save up enough to move out of the awful shared room you were in with the mould in the corner that kept coming back no matter how many times you cleaned it. The interview had gone on longer than you thought and you barely had time to get to Starbucks before your shift started- if you got a job at BigHit you could finally quit that place- and you’d hurried to leave the building only to discover that it was raining.

“Oh,” you’d said. 

You’d stood in the reception area, staring out of the glass windows at the torrential downpour outside; it had been sunny earlier that day, no indication that the heavens were going to open, and you hadn’t brought a coat or umbrella with you. Your one nice interview outfit was going to get drenched, and it was going to stay wet in your locker at Starbucks while you were working, and basically the entire month had been just terrible and after a potentially wasted interview you just kind of wanted to cry.

Before the tears could start to pool in your eyes, however, Hoseok had appeared. Not that you’d known him or his name at the time, of course, but he’d swept into the building like some burst of sunlight that had cut through the clouds despite the rain, shaking an umbrella off before laughing at Yoongi’s disgruntled face at the scattering water. You’d been stunned by the sudden flare of energy in the room and were still standing there when Hoseok’s eyes fell on you, on your stance, the way you were staring at the grey skies outside and the obvious lack of an umbrella in your hands.

And he’d just- he’d just walked up to you like you were friends, like he knew you, and he’d proffered the still damp umbrella, like it was nothing.

“It’s raining pretty heavily out there,” he’d said, and he’d been smiling, and you’d looked at him in shock, and he’d laughed. “You’ll need this.”

“I- what?”

“You clearly need this more than me,” Hoseok had said, bright smile fading into something a little more gentle, and you’d accepted the umbrella with unsteady hands, unable to say no to this sunshine of a man. “Feel free to give it back whenever.”

“I- I don’t work here,” you’d admitted, shamefaced. “I’m just here for an interview.”

“So you can give it back to me once you get the job.” Hoseok had said it like it was a done deal, like there weren’t other people vying for the position you’d applied for, people who were probably infinitely more qualified and better in interviews. “Okay?”

For the first time that month, you’d felt like someone believed in you- because you certainly didn’t believe in yourself. But Hoseok had been smiling at you, with his heart shaped mouth and his bright eyes, and you’d felt like a flower basking in his rays, turning towards him as your petals unfurled in his light, and you’d said- “Sure. Yes. I will.”

Here, now, in the present, you look down at your hands as you finish telling this story. “I just put the umbrella on his desk when he wasn’t around, after I got the job,” you tell Namjoon. “I didn’t talk to Hobi for ages because I didn’t- I didn’t have the strength to look him in the face without, you know. Without making it obvious that I had a raging schoolgirl crush on him. And he never said anything about it- I don't think he even remembered me at all, he'd just given some person his umbrella because they needed it, you know? And then we became friends and my crush died down and everything was okay, but- I guess the crush never really went away after all. Ugh,” you say. “This sucks, Joon. It sucks.”

The way Namjoon looks at you is compassionate and soft. “I know,” he says. “It’s understandable that you’re worried about this, because your friendship with Hoseok is important to you. But I don’t think you have anything to be concerned about, really.”

“You’re just saying that,” you mumble, and Namjoon chuckles.

“No, I’m not,” he says, gently. “I think you need to be more confident in what you and Hoseok have. Even if you admitted your feelings and he didn’t feel the same, you know he loves you too much to throw your friendship away, and it’s strong enough that it can survive whatever’s thrown at it. But, if you’ll forgive me for speaking out of turn, I would wager you’re not the only one with romantic feelings, Y/n.”

“You’re very sweet, Joonie, but I really don’t think that’s the case.” You let out a little self-pitying sigh. “Hobi’s just so lovely to everyone, it probably seems like that because we’re best friends.”

One of Namjoon’s eyebrows rises. “Is that what you really think?”

“Yes,” you say, a little miserable, looking down as you pick at a loose thread in one of your sleeves. “People mistake us as a couple a lot because we’re so close, you know? But Hoseok doesn’t see me like that.”

“Mm.” Namjoon makes a little noise of understanding, giving you a considering look as you continue to unravel your sleeve. “I see.”

He eventually coaxes you out of the studio, and when he discovers that you never finished your lunch he brings you to the café around the corner that all the BigHit employees love; you pick up an iced coffee for Hoseok, just the way he likes it. You feel better after talking to Namjoon and by the time you leave the café you feel pretty much back to normal. Mostly relaxed. You don’t feel weird when Hoseok lights up when he sees you, because he always does, because you’re his best friend, and this is normal. You can be normal.

“Again? It was my turn to get you coffee,” Hoseok says with a pout and you laugh.

“Don’t worry about it.” When you hand Hoseok his drink and your fingers brush, it’s okay. It’s okay. Your friendship with Hoseok is more important than your other feelings for him, and you’ll just focus on that. You’re not sure that’s what Namjoon was trying to communicate to you, with all his listening and gentle words, but you can bottle up these emotions and keep them on lockdown until the weird feeling passes. It’ll work. You’ll be fine.

A few hours later, you realise that you’re not fine.

“Joonie!” You pounce on Namjoon when you find him alone in the break room, filling a glass at the tap. He jumps and sends water sloshing over his hands when he drops his cup, though it fortunately doesn’t break when it clatters into the sink. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to surprise you.”

“I’m not going to point out that you snuck up on me from behind without making any noise, but, that’s okay,” Namjoon says, ever tolerant. He very carefully puts the glass upright in the middle of the sink before he turns around. “What’s up?”

“I, um, am maybe panicking a little bit,” you admit in a hushed voice, even though there’s no one else in the tiny kitchen with you. “So you know Unsolved has a bigger budget now that we’re more popular? And I’ve been pushing for us to go abroad somewhere on said bigger budget? And they said we could schedule some episodes for Britain because basically every other building in Britain is haunted?”

“Yes, I am aware,” Namjoon says. “I did help you to draft the emails that you sent management.”

“You did, and I’m still eternally grateful,” you say, truthfully. “But I’ve been so caught up in the 70th episode retrospective and my much more recent, uh, Hoseok related stuff, that I totally forgot how soon it was coming up and we fly to London next week?”

Namjoon blinks at you. “You have plenty of time to pack before next week, why are you panicking?”

You muffle a scream into your hands while Namjoon looks on with concern. 

“It’s not packing I’m worried about, Joon,” you say once you’ve pulled your face out of your palms. “It’s just that when we’re abroad I’m not going to be able to get away from Hoseok and I’m worried that I’m going to erupt like a volcano and spew all my emotions over him and then I’m going to have to change my name and drop off the grid forever when he inevitably rejects me, and I was always terrible at camping. I could never get the fire to light.”

Namjoon, for all that his patience seems endless and eternal, gives you a look that borders on weary. Like he’s the father to a child who keeps eating glue even after being told that there’s no nutritional value in it and they should be using it for macaroni art anyway, and also why are they eating the glue when it’d make more sense to eat the pasta that’s right there, even if it’s uncooked? 

“First of all, you can be off the grid and still have access to ways of heating that don’t require fire,” he says. “And second of all, why are you panicking so much about London?”

“Because Hobi always gets super clingy when we fly anywhere.” You shuffle from foot to foot, feeling awkward. “And that’s when we’re still in the US. I feel like if we’re in a different country it’ll be compounded? Even if I don’t say anything out loud, I feel like my feelings will be obvious just in the way I act?”

Namjoon pauses before he grips your shoulders. His palms feel so big and warm, a steadying presence. “Would that be so terrible? Think about it, Y/n. If that was the case, then it gives Hobi the opportunity to speak out if he notices. If your friendship is entirely platonic to him, then he won’t notice, right? You’ll be okay.”

You open your mouth to take in a breath and respond, but before you can say anything Seokjin comes sauntering into the cramped break area, entirely indifferent to the weird atmosphere he’s walked into. His eyebrows raise as he spots how you and Namjoon are standing. “Ooh, are we gossiping? Is there tea to be spilled? You both look very serious, let me in on it.”

“I was just asking Namjoon if there was any advice he could give me about travelling to Britain,” you lie.

“She didn’t realise that over there lemonade is like soda.” Namjoon lets his hands drop from your shoulders as he plays along with ruse, and your face twists up in confusion.

“It’s what?” You look at him for a second before realising that Jin is staring at you, and you pretend to laugh. “Ohh, yeah, haha! Yeah, that’s crazy, haha. Um, I should get back to my desk for my notebook, I should write this down before I forget,” you say, before scuttling out of the break room.

Once you’ve disappeared, Seokjin gives Namjoon a long look. “I can’t believe you haven’t broken yet,” he says. “I still personally think we should just lock them both in a room together until one of them confesses, but apparently that’s ‘inappropriate workplace behaviour’.” The air quotes he makes are exaggerated and theatrical, as if the entire thing is a farce.

“It is and I’m not going to take that statement back,” Namjoon responds. Seokjin rolls his eyes dramatically but Namjoon ignores him. “It’s better if they come around to it by themselves. I believe in them. Besides, weren’t you the one who intervened when it looked like Hoseok was going to kiss her? I had to edit that footage, I saw how you pushed all those decorations off the table.”

Jin raises his eyebrows. “Can you imagine the chaos if he’d done that without either of them confessing properly first? They’d both pretend like it never happened. I was doing them a favour.” He casts a sideways look at Namjoon, who nods in reluctant agreement. “You know the rest of the office has a pool on how soon one of those idiots actually confesses? Do you want in on it? If either one of us gets it, we can split it 50/50.”

“That’s also grossly inappropriate,” Namjoon says, before he pauses. “Hm. How much is in the pool?”

--

Turns out you didn’t need to worry so much.

“Oh my God, look at that!” Hoseok has his face pressed up against the glass of the pod, the London Eye giving you the opportunity to look down at the metropolis of the city sprawling out below you; Hoseok’s pointing at a weirdly shaped skyscraper, panels of glass refracting off alternate shades of blue. “That’s so cool!”

“I think it’s called The Gherkin,” you say and he makes a noise of delight. Beside you, Jimin and Taehyung take a selfie with the panorama of London behind them, and you smile.

It’s true that Hoseok has been clingier than usual. The thing is, though, you’ve been clingier too; you’ve had time between filming to do some sightseeing, and neither of you have been to London before, so everything is exciting and fun and new, and you’ve been holding onto each other throughout the journey, familiarity in an unfamiliar place. You’re too busy taking in the sights and travelling from place to place, you and Hoseok and Jimin and Taehyung cramming close together each time you take the Tube somewhere, or asking people to take photos of you, and you’re having too much fun to worry about anything else.

You even get recognised a few times, which is exciting. You know Unsolved is popular but there’s something gratifying about people an ocean away knowing who you are and enjoying your work- you look on fondly as Hoseok makes your fans laugh, putting the nervous ones at ease, before shuffling together so they can take photos with you. It’s lovely, really, and you’re so glad that you and Hoseok get to experience this together. There’s no one else you’d rather be with.

You’d had a brief moment of panic after filming the first episode, Hoseok sliding into your bed as per usual, but you’d both been so tired and jetlagged that you’d basically fallen asleep the second he’d finished wrapping his arms around you, so it had been okay. You weren’t as jetlagged for the second episode, of course, but there was something soothing about having Hoseok curled around you as he slept; despite how your heart probably should have been racing, it had just gone quiet instead, slipping into a gentle beating rhythm as you’d drifted into sleep.

So on the whole it’s been all been going a lot better than you’d thought. It feels natural to let your head fall onto Hoseok’s shoulder as you both stare out of the train window, watching the fields and villages slip by as you race out of London to your final filming location, only a few days away from jetting home again.

“We should come back,” Hoseok says suddenly, his voice low enough that Jimin and Taehyung aren’t distracted from the card game they’re playing together across the aisle from you.

“For more episodes? We’ll probably have to wait till the next quarter so there’s money in the budget.” You turn away from the view outside to look up at him, chin resting on his shoulder. “We can start looking up other haunted locations when we get home, if you want.”

Hoseok smiles. “I meant we should come back just for a regular holiday,” he says. “So we don’t have to worry about rushing from place to place. I know you’re disappointed we didn’t have time to see the Royal Botanic Gardens. I know how much you love flowers.”

Oh. You keep looking up at Hoseok, the way you have such a perfect view of the round apples of his cheeks, the swoop of his nose, the sharp cut of his jaw- you think about walking hand in hand with him past bursting blooms, through delicate arching greenhouses, surrounded by colour and beauty, and you know you’d still think he was the most beautiful flower there. 

“I’d like that,” you say quietly. You’re almost drowned out by how loudly Taehyung yells snap! and the subsequent groan Jimin lets out, but you know Hoseok hears you by the way his mouth lifts into a smile. “Is there anything you wanted to see next time?”

Hoseok shrugs, but only with one shoulder, doing a little jiggle with the one you’re not resting your chin on, which makes you smile. “Nothing specific,” he says. “I’m happy as long as I get to see it with you.”

Your eyes flutter shut as he says this, words settling deep in your chest, and you turn your head so that your cheek is resting on his shoulder again, shirt soft against your skin. “Love you, Hobi.”

Hoseok doesn’t respond straight away, but then he turns his head and kisses the crown of your head lightly. “Love you too.”

You arrive in Colchester in the late afternoon, and you don’t film until tomorrow, so after you’ve finished unpacking your stuff at your apparently haunted bed and breakfast, you make the group decision to just chill out for the evening and grab a couple of drinks. There’s a pub near your B&B so you and the boys pile into it, claiming a table in the corner so that you’re not in the way of the regulars, although every so often one of you has to venture up to the bar to order your drinks, trying to follow whatever sort of queuing system seems to be going on. (After the lemonade thing you had actually ended up actually asking Namjoon about Britain and the etiquette over here, and he was very insistent on following queues.)

By the time it’s your turn to grab the drinks it seems like it’s starting to get busy, so it’s taking some time for the bartender to get to you, but that’s okay- you lean against the bar and scroll through your phone, taking the opportunity to double check your schedule for tomorrow, when you feel someone tap your arm and you glance up.

“Hi,” the man says. He’s been waiting nearby, lounging against the bar, similar to you. “Are you waiting for a drink? You can go first, if you’d like.”

“Oh, no, no!” You shake your head and laugh a little. “You were here before me, that’s okay.”

When he hears your accent his eyes light up. “Oh, are you a tourist? I thought I hadn’t seen you around, because I definitely would have remembered you. How long are you over here for?”

“Uh, just a couple of nights.” You smile at him. “I’m guessing you’re a local?”

“Yeah.” He smiles back at you. “I could show you around, if you’d like.”

You startle at the sudden sensation of hands sliding around your waist, but it only takes you a second to recognise the touch and you relax against Hoseok, your back pressed against his chest as you turn away from the man to glance up at your friend. “Hi, baby,” he says. “Did you make a friend?”

“We’ve only just started talking, actually,” you say, turning back to the guy you have yet to introduce yourself properly to. “Sorry, I never caught your name?”

“That’s okay. I think my friends are calling me,” he says, and he pushes himself off the bar before brushing himself down and then walking away, giving both of you a polite little nod as he passes.

“He never even ordered his drinks.” You blink with confusion and then shrug. “Oh well, means we’ll get ours sooner. You can go sit back down, Hobi, I’ll be back soon.”

“I’m already here, I may as well stay with you,” he says, tightening his grip around your waist, and you don’t argue. He keeps hold of you as you wait and then helps you carry your drinks to the table before he pulls you onto his lap, keeping you in place with one hand splayed over your stomach while he uses the other to lift his glass to his mouth.

“Fuck chairs, right?” Jimin says. Taehyung elbows him.

“Don’t be jealous because I have the best seat in the house,” you say, before sticking your tongue out at Jimin. 

He gives you a mock affronted gasp and clutches his chest and you laugh before settling back against Hoseok, comfortable on your familiar perch atop his thighs. Hoseok might be the world’s biggest lightweight and easily gets tipsy over a single sip of alcohol- but despite this, his hold on you is firm and steady, even when he’s laughing over your shoulder, keeping you safe in his lap. He keeps stealing sips of your drink, dipping his head forwards to capture your straw whenever you’re not paying attention, but you don’t mind. What’s yours is Hoseok’s. (You’ve been taking sips of his beer, too, even if you make a face at the bitterness each time.)

By the time you shuffle back to your B&B, you’re all pleasantly drunk and keep giggling at each other about dumb and inconsequential things, although you’re careful to keep your voices down so that you don’t disturb anyone, trying to keep your footsteps light as you walk up the stairs. Jimin and Taehyung’s room is a little further up the corridor than yours and you clap your hand over your mouth to stifle your laughter when you see Taehyung trying to open the wrong door before Jimin redirects him.

You might not be too much better, but at least you remember which room is yours- you unlock the door on your first try, although it’s a little hard to step inside with how Hoseok is wrapped around your back, trying to time his steps with yours but failing a little with how tipsy he is. You keep laughing whenever he moves his feet forwards at the wrong time, a messy tangle of limbs that keep bumping together as you kick your shoes off, and you end up collapsing onto one of the beds with Hoseok still clinging onto you. He tips over backwards while your back is still pressed to his chest and you let out a little squeal at the sudden falling sensation, but he cushions your fall without complaint and still doesn’t let go, even when you accidentally elbow him in the sternum.

“We should wash up and get in our pyjamas,” you say, but you’re already wriggling into a more comfortable position, turning over so you can look at his face instead of staring up at the ceiling. Hoseok’s head has sunken into one of the fluffy hotel-style pillows, his hair a messy halo around his head, face flushed red from the alcohol. You smile down at him. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he says. “I don’t want to move right now.”

“You’re so drunk,” you giggle, but you rest your head on his chest and let your body relax, muscles unwinding as you let out a long, happy sigh. “We can move later, then.”

Even though you’d genuinely meant to get up and do your nightly ritual, you’re so comfortable snuggled with Hoseok in the soft bed that you drift off. For once, you fall asleep before him, eyes fluttering shut as your breaths deepen with sleep; Hoseok keeps stroking a hand down your back, brushing tenderly down the line of your spine with his long fingers in a way he’s done a thousand times. He’s still grateful for the opportunity every time, though- that he gets to see you like this, that he can touch you like this, that you’ve allowed him so deeply into your life and made a home in his, too.

“Goodnight, baby,” Hoseok says, voice barely audible in the quiet of the room. You’re so deeply asleep that you don’t stir, but he’s still careful and gentle when he touches his lips to your forehead with the lightest of pressures, tender. “Sleep well.”

When you wake up the next morning, it takes you a long time to come fully to your senses. You feel warm and heavy, surrounded by the smell of fresh sheets and Hoseok, and you don’t want to wake up just yet; you’re in that soft place between waking and sleeping, drifting in wakeful limbo as you slowly start to regain a sense of who you are and where you are. 

Your brain flickers on, starting to pull itself together as the sensation of being a singular warm mass starts to dissolve, drawing up a mental map of how your body is slotted against Hoseok’s, where your limbs start and his end. That’s your head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. That’s his arm around your shoulder, keeping you close even in your sleep. That’s your hand, resting on his hip, fingers hooked in his belt. Those are your legs, tangled around his, your toes pressed to his calf, and that’s-

Your eyes fly open. You’re still wearing your clothes from the night before, thicker denim of your jeans rather than the flimsy cotton of your pyjamas, but you know exactly what’s pressed against your hip bone. You’ve slept in the same bed with Hoseok enough times that this wouldn’t be the first time you’ve woken to his morning wood, but you’ve never been this tangled up before; you normally slide out of bed and pretend you haven’t noticed anything, and by the time Hoseok wakes up it’s normally gone, or he subtly shuffles off to the bathroom to deal with it, thinking that you’re none the wiser. 

It’s natural, it’s normal, it’s nothing to be ashamed or embarrassed about, but right now all you can think of is the hand you have near his hip, how close it is to his arousal, how easy it would be to slip your hand past his belt and jeans and boxers to grasp that hard, heavy heat-

You stiffen. You would never, ever do that, not ever, never take advantage of Hoseok while he was sleeping, and you know it was just a flickering thought in your still sleepy brain, probably still a little drunk, too- but you feel sick. You can’t believe you would even hypothetically consider taking advantage of him like that. If you were more than friends, then, sure, you’d wake Hoseok up with a pleasuring touch- but you’re not. You’re not. 

It takes a real feat of slow, drawn out acrobatics, but you manage to extricate yourself from Hoseok’s grasp without waking him. He only wakes up to the sound of the shower rumbling through the wall, blinking as he realises that his arms are empty, even though he should be used to this by now. By the time you walk out of the ensuite, towelling off your hair, Hoseok’s got a cup of tea waiting for you by the kettle, a few scattered milk droplets nearby from the tiny, complimentary pots.

“Morning, baby.” He’s still sleepy and there’s a crease on his cheek from where he’d turned his head into the pillow, hair ruffled, shirt wrinkled after a night of sleeping in it. “Tea?”

You feel a little better after your hot shower, scrubbing all the dirty thoughts off your skin, but when Hoseok looks so soft and homely like this it’s hard not to want to just eat him whole. 

“Ooh, how British,” you say, trying to laugh- Hoseok still seems too heavy-eyed to notice how you’re a little bit off right now, thankfully. “Yes, please.”

Unfortunately, you can’t shake your lingering weirdness and feelings of guilt, and when Hoseok wakes fully, he notices. You’re not due to film at Colchester Castle until it’s night time, shooting the episode when it’s going to be dark, so you’ve organised a day trip to the town’s zoo- Colchester Zoo is huge, full of all sorts of animals and exhibits, and Hoseok’s been excited to visit it from the moment he found out about it. 

You’d even looked up the map online so that you could plan out the optimum route and ensure you didn’t miss anything, the two of you crowding around your phone screen and pointing excitedly at the names of the different exhibits, ready and raring to go.

So Hoseok is understandably a little stunned when you apparently seem to want to drag your feet and stay with Jimin and Taehyung instead. Both the boys want to just wander around the zoo willy-nilly, separating off from you and taking it slow- but after a brief, silent discussion between the two of them, eyes flicking at each other and then back to you, they agree to come with you on your planned route.

You send up a silent prayer of thanks to anyone who’s listening. You can use the chaotic duo as cushioning and put them between you and Hoseok if you need to.

You know you’re not being especially subtle right now, but every time Hoseok moves closer to you all you can think about is how his choice of outfit today is fraying your already delicate nerves, the loose fabric of his fashionable sweatpants doing nothing to protect the outline of his dick from your wandering gaze. You don’t mean to look, but you can’t help it, even if you’re fairly certain that half the time it’s just a crease in the fabric from how he’s standing and not actually his dick, but-

“I thought it’d be harder than that,” Taehyung says. “It’s so much hairier than I thought it would be.”

You freeze, eyes shooting away from Hoseok’s crotch. Luckily no one seems to be paying you any attention and instead the boys are peering into the armadillo exhibit, watching as the animal snuffles around the ground.

“They don’t call it a large hairy armadillo for nothing,” Jimin giggles. “And it’s still a baby, the armour hasn’t grown in properly yet. It’ll look harder once it’s grown up a bit.”

All the tension rushes out of your body at once. Jesus Christ. 

Hoseok notices you slumping a little, glancing up from the map when he hears the sigh of air escape your body. “Are you okay?” He seems concerned.

“Never better,” you lie unconvincingly, giving him a weak smile. “What’s next on the list?”

Hoseok seems concerned about you for the whole day, and even a little hurt when you keep slipping out of his grasp, but the truth is that you need to put some distance between the two of you right now, for the sake of your own heart and sanity. Being desperately head over heels for Hoseok is one thing and you’d just started becoming okay with that again, but this sudden wave of physical yearning (you’re too embarrassed to think of it as horniness) is out of the left field and it’s a lot harder to cover up. You hate seeing sadness on Hoseok’s face, and normally you’d be cooing over him and asking him to tell you what’s wrong- but you know what’s wrong. It’s you. 

“Do you think something happened?” Taehyung whispers quietly to Jimin, the two of them watching as you act like you’ve been distracted by the Koi fish and walk away from Hoseok as he’s just about to reach for your hand.

“I think we’re reaching critical mass.” Jimin pretends to read from the zoo map. “We’ve nearly hit the nuclear reaction and one of them is finally going to blow. It might get messy.”

“I hope not,” Taehyung says, watching the way Hoseok stares at the back of your head as you peer into the tank of glittering fish. “I’ve never been good at cleaning up.”

It’s a little easier once the evening finally rolls around and Hoseok replaces those delicious sweatpants with marginally more professional jeans, as ripped as they are. It’s also easier to slip into the natural rhythm and rapport you have when you’re being filmed- it’s not that you’re ever any faker on camera, but it’s just an unthinking response to the sight of them, your body switching from Normal mode to Work mode. Taehyung readjusts the camera rig you have looped around your body while Jimin sorts out Hoseok, night vision lens pointed towards your faces, before letting you go.

“Ready?” You ask, glancing at your co-host. Hoseok seems less enthusiastic than usual, and you internally cringe, contrition shooting through you at how you’ve managed to dampen his mood because you’ve spent the whole day being distant.

“Ready,” Hoseok says, subdued. Your face crumples and you reach out for his hand, squeezing his fingers, trying to communicate a silent apology for something he isn’t even aware of. 

“I won’t abandon you, okay?” You keep your fingers tangled with his as you speak and grip them hard. “There’s a lot of scary stuff in this castle and I promise I won’t leave your side.”

Hoseok pauses but then squeezes your hand back, and he seems to brighten, even though he’s still a little dimmed. “I know,” he says. “I know you won’t.”

Even though he says that, he spends less time clinging onto you than normal. It’s probably not noticeable to the average onlooker, and with how most of the footage is going to be cut later, you’re certain your audience won’t notice either- but while Hoseok still screams and jumps at things, he seems to separate from you as soon as the fear has passed. He doesn’t linger or keep hold of you, even when he seems visibly shaken, eyes wide as you ascend the stairs and hear what sounds like singing even though there’s no one else here- it’s probably just wind whistling through the ancient corridors and walls of the castle, but you know that Hoseok is terrified.

“Do you want to hold my hand?” You look over your shoulder and proffer your hand but Hoseok just shakes his head.

“I’m fine.” He’s clinging onto the banister, both hands white knuckled around the metal railing. “I’m fine.”

Even though you’ve been the one who’s been avoiding touching him all day, it hurts when he says that, as hypocritical as you know you’re being. You draw your hand back to your side and don’t offer again after that, although you still pat him soothingly when he instinctively grabs you later, jumping at a clattering noise in the distance. You’re not easily spooked, but Colchester Castle definitely has some weird vibes, so if you’re feeling like this, Hoseok must feel even more scared than normal.

At one point you walk through a spider web and flinch in surprise when you feel it on your face, jumping backwards and swiping at your face. Hoseok is immediately there, eyes wide as he stares at you, immediately protective despite his fear. “Are you okay? What happened?”

“Uh, it was just a spider web,” you admit, chagrined. “I overreacted, sorry.”

Hoseok nods and immediately backs off, giving you room as he turns around. You can’t help the hurt that flashes across your face as soon as he looks away.

“Critical mass,” Jimin mutters to Taehyung, who nods sagely.

The worst and weirdest moment of the night actually happens once the episode is over. Hoseok is oddly quiet as you both get ready for bed, not talking to you through the open bathroom door as he meticulously massages cream into his face like he normally does- and once he flicks the light off, plunging the room into blue tinged darkness, you’re stunned as you watch his silhouette slide into his own bed instead of into yours.

He’s never slept in his own bed after a supernatural filming. Even after your first paranormal themed episode together, when you’d still been mostly strangers. He’d been bashful and hesitant despite how obviously scared he was, asking if he could sleep in your bed, and of course you’d said yes, wanting to do anything you could to soothe him and help him feel safe. So the fact he’s not sleeping in your bed now, it’s- it’s- it’s not right. 

The only light in the room is from the tiny, faint red numbers of the digital clock, and you watch as time trickles slowly by- you stay awake for what feels like hours, laying on your side as you stare towards Hoseok’s bed. Your eyes adjust to the near darkness, room painted in low-contrast sfumato, and you can see how Hoseok is turned away from you; he’s unnaturally still and silent, and you know he hasn’t fallen asleep either, too scared and wound up to drift off.  

Outside, a vehicle rumbles past, and you can see how Hoseok stiffens at the noise of the loose fan belt, a high squeal that’s admittedly startling after the silence of the night. The shine of the headlights through the drawn curtains is muted but still more than enough to throw the room into brief, sharp relief, the tension in Hoseok’s shoulders screaming out to you- you can’t stand it anymore and you slip out from under your blankets so that you can make your way across the dark room. 

Hoseok turns when he hears you stumble over something on the floor- you think it’s a pair of socks- and makes a little noise of surprise when you throw back the corner of his duvet so you can slide in next to him.

“Y/n?” He sounds tired, but still fully awake- you were right, he’s been struggling to sleep.

“Hobi,” you say. “Why are you over here, all alone like this?”

You can barely make out the details of his features, as curved towards each other as you are; you can see the faint darkness where his hollows of his eyes are, his pretty mouth nothing more than an undefined line in the muted room. 

“I- I didn’t want to disturb you.” His voice is a quiet, unhappy murmur, and you feel your heart break at the dejection in his tone.

“Oh, Hoseok.” You cup his face in your hands, running your thumbs back and forth over his cheeks; you can feel the tension in his face, how he must be frowning. You might not be able to see everything all too well, but you’re more than familiar enough with Hoseok’s face to know where the furrow between his brows is, and press a little kiss to it. “My Hobi,” you say, and start to litter kisses over his forehead, his cheeks, his eyelids, the tip of his nose. “My baby. My darling.”

You keep touching your lips to his skin, wanting his unhappiness and fear to fade away, whispering pet names between each kiss. You tilt your lips against his chin, and Hoseok makes a little noise before his hands come up to grasp your wrists, pulling them away from where they’re still cupping his jaw. You go still, eyes widening, even if he can’t see it. “Hoseok?”

“Did I- did I do something wrong?” He sounds unsure. “You were avoiding me all day- I thought you didn’t want- I thought you wanted me to leave you alone,” he says, and you can hear guilt in his voice. “I thought I’d scared you off somehow.”

You make a little, unhappy noise. “No, baby, no,” you say. You shake your head, faces still so close from your kisses that your noses brush, but you don’t pull away- you need him to know that it’s not his fault. “I’m sorry. It wasn’t that at all.”

“Then what was it?” His grip slips away from around your wrists to slide his fingers between yours instead, holding your hands. “Tell me.”

You go still. His tone is so imploring: he wants to know what’s wrong, so he can fix it, make it better. “Hoseok.” Your voice is quiet. “You’re my best friend, Hoseok.”

“And you’re mine,” he says, squeezing your hands. Your heart feels small and feeble in your chest, a weak little thing that swells up at Hoseok’s words, but immediately shrinks again in fear. “You can tell me anything.”

“You’re my best friend, Hoseok,” you repeat. Hoseok goes silent. “You’re my best friend, and I-” You take a deep breath, trying to fill your lungs, get some oxygen flowing through your terrified heart, taking bellows to a dying ember, trying to grow it into a flame. “Honestly, I’m just selfish, Hoseok,” you say. “I’m just- being your best friend is already everything to me- but I’m so selfish-”

“Y/n.” Hoseok’s voice is a hush.

“I’m in love with you, Hoseok.” 

There. You said it. 

You can feel how Hoseok stiffens, how his fingers go utterly still in yours as you continue to speak.

“I’m in love with you, and I was just so scared you’d realise how head over heels I’ve always been for you and you’d end our friendship because everything I feel is just so much, and I just needed space today, I needed space to try and get my head straight and not scare you away by making things weird, and I’m sorry I hurt you, I didn’t mean to, I never want to hurt you, Hoseok. I’m sorry. I love you. Please don’t hate me.”

You take in a deep shuddering breath once all the words have spilled out of you, so much air. It’s out in the world, now, and you can’t take it back. 

As the seconds tick by, the initial heady rush of terror starts to fade and is instead replaced with resignation, unsurprised at how Hoseok is still frozen against you. He’s deathly silent. He’s probably mentally drafting the nicest way to gently let you down, always so kind and lovely, so wonderful, your Hoseok. 

A twinge shoots through your heart as you mentally correct yourself- he’s not yours, and he doesn’t want to be. You should have just kept your mouth shut.

“I’m sorry,” you say again. Your voice is a miserable whisper. “You’re just so easy to love.”

You try to pull your hands out of his so you can slink back to your bed and wallow in your misery, but Hoseok just tightens his grip. You tug again, a little more insistent, and this time he lets go- but before you can roll out of his bed he’s grabbing your face, long, beautiful fingers splaying over your cheeks and jaw, locking you in place as he presses his forehead against yours.

“Y/n.” His voice is uncharacteristically serious, low. “I’m going to kiss you.”

Your eyes widen. “You’re-”

You’re cut off when Hoseok presses his mouth to yours. He’s kissed you before, on your forehead, your cheeks, the bare skin of your shoulder when you wear the sundress he likes so much- but you’ve never felt his heart shaped lips against yours, never felt them soft and warm as they catch your own, and it’s so much. He keeps drawing his mouth across yours, catching your lips between his own, tongue pressing out to swipe across them, and you shiver as the kiss slowly turns slick and wet, even as it stays so tender.

His hands wrap around your waist and he rolls over you, pinning you down with his weight as you keep kissing and kissing and kissing. Your hands are in his hair while his cup your face, holding you like you’re something delicate and precious, palms warm against your skin. You don’t separate to breathe, keeping your lips locked as the kisses turn open-mouthed, Hoseok’s tongue gliding against yours, the lingering taste of your shared toothpaste mingling with his saliva- you shiver underneath him when he nips at your lower lip before soothing it with his tongue, and you crane your head forward to press further into his mouth, kisses slow and deep, and by the time you finally separate, you feel dizzy and breathless.

“Hobi,” you breathe out. “Hobi, turn the light on, I want to see you.”

Hoseok leans over you to flick on the bedside lamp, illuminating you both with its bright light- you can see how kiss swollen his gorgeous mouth is, how the sheen of your saliva on his flushed lips glows gold from the lamplight, how his hair is a mess from how you’ve been running your hands through it. He looks like your best friend, and also nothing like that at all, something familiar and unfamiliar all at once. Hoseok, forever changed by the touch of your lips.

“My baby.” He’s smiling at you, all warmth and fondness, and you squirm underneath him, embarrassed by the weight of his affection for you. “Y/n. I love you too.”

You probably shouldn’t be surprised, considering how Hoseok has just kissed you breathless, but you still feel your heart stutter in your chest. You’re staring up at him with your wide eyes as he bends forward again- he mimics what you did earlier, trailing kisses over your forehead and cheekbones and nose before he kisses one corner of your mouth, then the other, then your cupid’s bow, then just under the swell of your bottom lip. “I love you, love you, love you,” he says, punctuating each kiss with the repeated confession, as if each time he says it it’s not punching the air out of your lungs.

“Hoseok?”

“Yes?” He’s still smiling, those warm little creases under his eyes as he looks at you, every inch of him just screaming out happiness. You did that. He’s happy because of you. 

“Do you- do you remember when we first met? Years ago?” You don’t want to break the moment, but he’s never mentioned the umbrella thing and you’ve never asked before and you have a burning desire to know if he can recall-

“Do you mean the first time we actually met, or the first time you officially introduced yourself to me? I remember both,” Hoseok says. “I always knew you’d get the job. Besides, if you hadn’t, you would have had to keep the umbrella,” he adds, smile edging into something a little cheeky. “And then there would have been a pretty girl out there thinking about me every time it rained.”

Your eyes widen before you hide your face in your hands, overwhelmed at the idea that Hoseok had thought that you were pretty before he’d even known you; he coos at you and pulls your hands away to reveal your flustered expression, trapping them against the pillow so you can't hide your face again. Hoseok’s smile has faded into something a little more serious, but no less loving, and although you feel open and naked and vulnerable right now, it’s not because you think he’s judging you. 

“You never said anything, so I thought you’d forgotten,” you admit. “But from the second you smiled at me as you handed me that umbrella, I knew I was a goner. I’ve been in love with you for a long time, Hoseok.”

It’s not often that you see Hoseok look like this, his eyes so serious and deep, but his entire face is still so soft, smiling. “Me, too,” he confesses. “Me too. I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to risk our friendship and I love you too much to want to give that up.”

The smile that splits your face is so wide it almost hurts. “I love you,” you say again, for the sheer novelty of hearing it out loud, seeing how Hoseok lights up- the fact you can say it without fear of his reaction, because he loves you, too. He loves you. He’s in love with you. “I love you, Hoseok, I-”

He cuts you off with a kiss, swallowing your words of love into his curved mouth, the two of you smiling and laughing as your lips come together again and again- but when he presses his tongue to your lower lip and you part them, he licks into your mouth in a way that’s almost lewd, warm and wet, and you shiver as you think about exactly how long that tongue is.

Hoseok still has his hands around your wrists from before, and you feel how his grip tightens imperceptibly when he feels you tremble underneath him. Your cheeks feel warm when he pulls back and you wonder if your blush is visible, but Hoseok seems intent on other things, dipping his head forward to catch your earlobe between his teeth for a sharp moment, nipping it before licking it with his hot, wet tongue. Your entire body shudders as he starts to kiss down the side of your jaw, and you tilt your head to give him better access, gasping when he draws his tongue over the oversensitive skin of your neck; you can feel how he smiles against your skin before kissing your throat.

“Hobi,” you breathe, and then gasp when he draws the flat of his tongue over the hollow of your neck. Each teasing touch of his tongue and lips is trickling straight to your core, your panties growing wetter and wetter with your arousal. “Hobi, oh.”

“I’m going to worship you the way you deserve to be worshipped, princess,” he murmurs, lips moving against your collarbones as he speaks. “I’ve been waiting to do this for so long." He keeps kissing you between his words, punctuating them with sweeps of his tongue over your skin, and it's so much. "Hold still for me, baby, there you go.”

Hoseok releases your wrists and you flex your fingers but stay in that position, your hands palm up as they rest either side of your head. Hoseok leans back to stare at you underneath him, laid out for his gaze; you’re in an old t-shirt and faded pyjama bottoms, face bare, hair a haphazard mess where it rests against the pillow, but he looks at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. Like you’re draped in diamonds and gold and silks. He looks at you with reverence and love, like he wants to cherish you- but there’s also something deeper in those half-lidded eyes of his, like he wants to swallow you whole.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathes. You bite your lip, swallowing down a needy noise at the tone of his voice, hands clenching into fists where they rest beside your head.

“Hobi, please,” you say. “I need you.”

“You have me.” He takes one of his hands and slowly pushes the material of your shirt up, dragging his palm over your skin as he reveals the softness of your stomach. He lets the material bunch just under your breasts, ignoring how your nipples have hardened and stand out through the thin cotton of your old tee, running his fingers over your sides; you buck a little underneath him, sucking in a breath at how his touch is almost ticklish. “So sensitive.”

“You haven’t even touched me properly yet,” you say, a little snarky despite your breathlessness, but then you’re cut off when Hobi’s hands slide under the t-shirt to cup your breasts, palms and fingers cool against your overheated skin. Your pussy clenches when he flicks his thumbs over each of your hardened buds, running the pads of his fingertips over them, and you arch into his touch.

“So sensitive,” he says again, a little smile behind his words as he watches how your chest rises and falls under his hands, sucking in air when he pinches your nipples between his fingers. “Do you like that, baby?”

“Like it when you touch me,” you sigh. Hoseok smiles, flashing his teeth at you before leaning forward to kiss you again. He coaxes you to lift up a little so he can pull off your shirt, smoothing your hair when it gets ruffled by the motion, but before you can smile up at him for his tenderness, he lowers the heat of his mouth over one of your nipples and you gasp.

One of your hands flies up to grasp his hair when he circles the bud with his tongue, and you let out a low moan as he continues to lave attention on it, flattening his tongue and dragging it over the sensitive flesh. He alternates between your breasts, using his hands and fingers on whichever he’s not suckling between his lips; goosebumps erupt over your skin, and you keep biting back whines and gasps each time he does something particularly wicked with his mouth. 

You feel so, so wet, arousal pooling between your legs, and you need him to touch you there. But he's slow, taking his time until your chest is heaving and your skin is flushed and your nipples are slick from the wetness of his mouth, his fingers just the right side of rough whenever he pinches the hardened peaks, and you mewl beneath him.

You’re just about to beg Hoseok to give you more when he finally lifts his mouth from your nipple, and you go tense as he starts to trail his lips down the valley of your breasts, across the sensitive skin of your stomach, hands roaming over the rest of you; he slides down the bed until he’s resting between your legs, and all you can think about is how close his mouth is to where you want it to be. 

You’re so wet that you’ve soaked right through your panties, a touch of dampness clinging to the flimsy material of your pyjama bottoms too, and you shiver at the way Hoseok seems to drink down the sight before he hooks his fingers into the loose elastic waistband, and starts to inch them down. He’s moving torturously slowly, kissing your bare legs as he reveals your skin, touching his lips to your thighs, your calves, your ankles. 

He does the same again with your panties, even more slowly; palms sliding up the side of your legs so he can curl his fingers around the fabric of your underwear and peel it off you. You shiver when your pussy is finally revealed, your inner thighs slick with your arousal and cooling from the touch of the air- Hoseok continues to suck and kiss trails across your legs even as he stares at your naked, weeping core, his gaze heavy as he drinks down the sight.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says, running his fingers over your bare skin as you tremble beneath him. “So gorgeous and perfect. Look at you, all laid out, just for me. I love you.”

“Hoseok,” you whimper. He’s still entirely clothed while you’re naked and bare, and you feel utterly debauched in comparison to him, the sheen of his saliva still shining over your body, nipples hard, your pussy lips flushed from arousal, every part of you begging for more- meanwhile he’s still got his surprisingly cute matching pyjama set on. The contrast is making your dizzy. He cups your foot in one of his hands, turning his head to press a kiss to your inner ankle, and your toes curl. “Please, baby, I need you.”

“I’ve got you, princess,” he murmurs. He drops one last kiss to your ankle before shifting towards your canting hips; his breath curls out over your core and you shudder, another flood of arousal shooting through you, your cunt clenching as Hoseok stares at it shamelessly. “Look at you,” he says, reverent. “So pretty and wet for me.”

“Hobi,” you whine. You bite back a gasp as he hooks your fingers behind your knees and forces your legs apart, spreading you open, entirely helpless underneath his hungry gaze. You watch in wonder as he lets his tongue curl out of his mouth, looking sinfully dirty as he does- but then you let out a whine when he turns his head away from your pussy and licks the inner seam of your thigh instead. Your hips jump at the sensation, your skin so sensitive from the attention that he’s lavishing on you, but it’s not where you want his mouth to be, even if the lingering kisses he’s giving to your inner thighs feel good. “Hoseok, please.”

He hums indulgently, and you’re about to start begging again when he purses his lips and blows out a puff of air over your flushed lower lips; the sudden chill against your damp folds has you tensing, and before you can gather your wits Hoseok drags his hot, wet tongue up the seam of your pussy to gather the wetness there. You cry out from the sudden explosion of sensation when he repeats the motion but presses past your lower lips to tongue at your slit, lapping up the juices at your entrance before circling your clit with the tip of his tongue, your spine arching as your hips buck. “Oh, God, Hoseok, yes, right there.”

He slides one of his arms over your stomach, trapping you, holding you down as you try to cant your hips towards his mouth. You sob with pleasure as he continues to drink down your juices, leisurely licking at the most sensitive parts of you, in no rush at all. “Hobi, please,” you beg. “Please, I need more.”

Hoseok turns his head to lightly bite your inner thigh, your leg twitching at the sensation, surprised at how pleasurable it is. “Ssh,” he murmurs. “I’ve been waiting to do this for a long time. I want to savour it,” he says, and you let out a whine when he dips his head back down and starts to lap at your clit again, his dark eyes watching each of your reactions, the way you writhe and curl your toes each time he dips back down to your entrance, pressing his tongue inside you. “You taste so good, baby. Your pretty little cunt is so perfect.”

You whine at the praise, writhing when each swipe of his tongue over you is fanning the flames of your arousal higher and higher, and you can feel how the coil inside you is tightening, so close to reaching your peak. Hoseok’s still eating you out, nice and slow, and you’ve never felt an orgasm creep up on you like this- you moan as Hoseok finally buries his face in your pussy, tongue sliding from your slit, to your clit, over and over. 

It’s so, so good, and then you watch as he slides one of his long fingers inside you and curls it inside you just right- “I’m gonna cum, Hoseok, I’m- oh!”

The intensity of your orgasm hits you like a freight train, exploding from deep inside you. Your back arches off the bed and your toes curl as you cum and cum and cum, Hoseok keeping his mouth on you the whole time, your entire body shuddering as waves of pleasure wash over you, wetness flooding out of your cunt that he drinks down eagerly. 

The build up was slow, and the come down is slow, too, aftershocks rippling through your body for longer than any orgasm you’ve had before, and Hoseok keeps licking and sucking you through it all until you’re almost crying out from the overstimulation and you have to push his head away. The aftershocks are still rippling through your body as Hoseok rises, your pussy clenching each time, and you feel boneless and strung out- but you know Hoseok isn’t done with you yet.

“So pretty when you cum for me,” he says. You reach out for him and he comes so easily, fitting himself between your arms. His lips and chin shine with evidence of your arousal and when you pull him in for a kiss you can taste yourself across his tongue, a noise bubbling up at the back of your throat when you feel how slick his lips are against yours.

“Wanna make you cum too,” you say, your voice weak after the strength of that orgasm; you take in a deep breath, willing the oxygen to bring some energy back into your body. “Baby. Hoseok.”

“Mm.” He kisses you again. “You will, baby, don’t worry, you’re always so good for me.”

Your fingers fumble when you try to unbutton his shirt, but when Hoseok laughs, it’s not patronising at all; he just sounds fond. He takes over, deft fingers making quick work of the shirt before he throws it aside, revealing the slim line of his body to you. He’s beautiful and lean, nipples dark, skin golden, with a dark trail of hair that dips down into his pyjama bottoms- your eyes zero in on the way Hoseok’s loose pyjamas do nothing to hide his erection, the hard strain of his cock against the fabric, and you let out a little sigh of happiness that you’re finally getting to see what you’ve been desperately staring at all day. When you reach out for him your fingers barely brush his skin, and you make a greedy little noise, hungry for more.

“Need you,” you say. You want Hobi inside you, splitting you open, as close to each other as you can physically be. “Clothes off now.”

Hobi lets out a loud laugh, and you melt at the utter joy in the sound, how his face is so open and bright. 

“God, I love you,” he says, before unceremoniously shedding the offending garments. He wiggles his hips in an entirely unsexy manner, and you end up laughing too when he gets one of his legs caught and has to kick the pyjama bottoms off in an entirely graceless way. You’re still letting out quiet giggles even as Hoseok is finally bare in front of you, beautiful and unabashed in his nakedness, and you love him. 

You feel like liquid sunlight, overflowing with happiness; you’ve never laughed like this with anyone before, both naked yet still somehow amused, flipping from all-consuming arousal one second to laughter the next, but it just feels natural. Because it’s Hoseok, and everything feels so easy with him.

“I love you too,” you say, and then, when your eyes drop to his cock, you say: “God, you’re beautiful.”

His cock is gorgeous, curving up towards the ceiling, a drop of precum beaded at the tip; it’s not completely straight, hanging just a little to the left, but it’s Hoseok, so it’s perfect. He wraps his fingers around your hips and you let out a little squeal when he tugs you down the bed towards him so that your legs are dangling off the side and your hips are practically flush; his cock bobs when he moves and you shiver with how close it is to your heated core. Just like the rest of him, it’s long and lean and gorgeous, and you can’t wait to have it inside you. Although-

“Don’t I get to taste you?” You can’t help but say this with a pout, and Hoseok’s face splits into a wide smile.

“Next time, baby,” he promises. “Tonight is for you.”

Next time. The realisation that tonight is just one of many, just the start of an entirely new chapter in your life with Hoseok- that you’ll still be friends, best friends, but also more- settles inside you, warm and soft and safe. Your face creases into a smile and you slide your hands up Hoseok’s body, over his stomach and chest, touching all the skin you can, relishing in the fact that you’ll grow familiar with it all in a way that you never could have dreamed of. 

“You’re always so good to me,” you say.

“You deserve it, princess,” he replies. You tilt your hips towards him and you see how his eyes darken at the motion, tenderness swallowed by lust, and your body lights up like a livewire in preparation, ready to feel him push inside you. You’re already loose and wet from your first orgasm, but you don’t protest when Hoseok starts to run his fingers over the seam of your thigh; he presses straight in with two fingers, your body opening up for him so easily, and you gasp at how deep they move inside you, so long and pretty. 

“There, Hobi, right there.” He’s clearly not trying to bring you to orgasm again but he still listens to your directions, keeping the motions of his hands the same, fingers rubbing over your inner walls so perfectly. 

You can hear it, noises slick and dirty before he pulls them out, and you watch as he uses your arousal to slick up his cock, rubbing your juices over his hard length. It’s lewd, how he does it, pumping himself as he spreads it over his cock, wet noises vulgar and obscene, shooting straight to your core; you don’t think you’ve ever seen or heard anything so arousing in your life, the way Hoseok has his lip caught between his teeth as he looks at you, cock stiff between his legs as he runs his fingers over it. 

“Oh, fuck,” you whimper. “Hoseok, fuck.”

You arch your back when he grips his cock in one hand, guiding himself towards you- but rather than pressing into your entrance he runs his throbbing length back and forth through your lips, gathering even more of the wetness there, the slide so easy and smooth. It’s the most delicious, glancing pressure against your clit, not enough to satisfy, but enough to have you gasping again, the way you can feel the silken heat of his cock against you. 

“Hoseok, please.” You don’t attempt to hide the desperation in your voice. “I need you.”

Hoseok lets out a guttural groan at your words; he drinks in how blown your pupils are, the flush from your orgasm still visible over your chest, the way your fingers are clutching the bedsheets, white cotton tangled in your grasp. “Anything you want, baby,” he says, and finally, finally, he grasps his length and tilts it to your entrance. He rests there for a second, the tip barely touching you, and you see how he steels himself as he grasps your hips, before he starts to sink into you.

“Oh!” He fills you so well, inch by torturous inch, your body opening up for him so easily it’s like his cock was made to fill you; once he bottoms out you can feel how snug he is inside you, cockhead pressed against your cervix, and you shiver. “Oh, yes, Hoseok, so good.”

He stays still for one long, drawn out moment, before his hands slip off your waist and he reaches for yours. You entwine your fingers with his, staring up at him as he leans forward and kisses you; the motion has his cock shifting inside you and you whine a little against his lips, before biting off a gasp when he rocks his hips forwards. The motion is fluid and rolling, and Hoseok sets an unhurried pace, languidly filling you up with his cock, over and over and over.

The pleasure that’s growing in you is slow and relaxed. You’re not chasing your orgasms- you’re revelling in the closeness, the connection, the slip of skin against skin, how Hoseok is filling you up, how you’re drawing him in. You end up staring into each other’s eyes, Hoseok’s forehead pressed to yours so there’s nothing in your vision but him; you only break eye contact when one particularly deep roll of his hips sends a shudder through you, your eyes squeezing shut as you gasp.

“Feel so good, baby,” Hoseok murmurs. “So good for me.”

You make a noise of confusion when he lets go of your fingers and leans back, straightening up, but then he hooks his hands under your knees and you lift your hips; you drape your legs over his shoulders, arched towards him, lower body lifting off the mattress. Hoseok drives forward and you immediately gasp at how he hits your sweet spot straight on, the change of angle forcing the head of his cock to brush the top of your inner walls, each drag of the blunt head sending shocks of pleasure shooting through you.

“Wanna feel you cum around my cock, princess,” Hoseok says, and you shudder. “Can you do that for me?”

“Yes,” you breathe. “Yes, Hobi, yes- faster- oh-”

Hoseok starts to ramp up the pace, snapping his hips into yours with the sound of slapping skin, and you can feel how you’re starting to tighten around him, pussy clenching with each thrust of his hot cock inside you. “Gonna cum for you, Hobi,” you say. “So close, fuck.”

He takes one of his hands off your waist and slides three fingers over your clit, and you cry out with pleasure as he starts to rub at your bundle of nerves in tight circles; the added stimulation is just what you need, and you tumble over the edge into your second orgasm of the night. Hoseok moans when he feels how your cunt clenches around him, rippling tightness around his cock, and your eyes fall shut as your mouth falls open and you rock your hips into the sensation, grinding against Hoseok to prolong the pleasure, and he continues to snap his hips forward.

You go lax, almost limp, but Hoseok is still hard inside you, so you try your best to keep your back arched towards him; the fluid roll of his thrusts is starting to fall out of rhythm as he approaches his own peak, and although your pussy is crying out at the oversensitivity, you try to match his pace, canting your hips towards Hoseok each time he drives forward.

“Want your cum all over me, Hobi,” you say. “Want you to cum on my tits-”

Hoseok curses, composure slipping entirely for the first time all night, and you feel how he fumbles his rhythm before he catches himself. His thrusts are fast and choppy before he pulls out and drops your hips to the mattress; you whine at the sudden emptiness, but then he’s shuffling his knees onto the bed and he has his hand wrapped around his slick length, jerking himself hard and fast as you arch your back and push your chest towards him.

“So fucking beautiful,” he says through gritted teeth. “So pretty, baby- fuck!”

He gasps in air before he lets out one long, drawn out moan, and then there’s hot cum splattering across your breasts, whiteness painting itself across your skin. Hoseok continues to pump himself, cock letting out more ropes of cum, and you can’t help but let out a noise of satisfaction at the sight, lifting your hands to run over his hip bones and waist and flexing thighs, watching the way Hoseok’s face draws together as he rides out his own orgasm, until his hand falls away from his cock and he’s slumping forwards over you, panting.

You hum, reaching for him and pulling him down so you can brush your lips against his. “You’re so hot when you cum,” you say. “I could watch you cum all day.”

Hoseok lets out a breathless laugh before he kisses you again, properly this time- you’re content to keep kissing regardless of the cum that’s starting to cool on your chest, but Hoseok is insistent on being a gentleman and excuses himself to the bathroom to get a towel so he can clean you up. When he drags the damp towel over your skin, he’s so soft and gentle, although you still shiver a little when the rough fabric drags over your nipples; he bends down and kisses you in apology. 

You feel warm and small and soft, watching as Hoseok walks around the bed, still naked; the paltry lamp light is still more than enough for you to see every line of his beauty, the way each of his muscles shifts under his skin as he walks and moves, bending over to gather some of the discarded clothes from the floor. You sit up and lift your arms so he can help you back into your thin t-shirt, cupping his face in your hands and kissing him with a firm press of your lips, before he shimmies back into his boxers, though you personally don’t think he needs them.

When you finally settle down for the night you both curled up on your bed- because Hoseok’s is rumpled and sweaty from your previous exertions- and nestle up gratefully under the sheets, warm from the weight of the duvet and Hoseok spooning you from behind.

“I love you,” he murmurs, nosing at the side of your neck.

“I love you too,” you reply, and then end up giggling a little, stomach jumping under Hoseok’s hand. “I need to buy Namjoon a thank you slash apology gift when we get home, you know,” you say thoughtfully. “He had to put up with me having a meltdown about you, and it turns out he was right.”

Hoseok brushes his nose over your ear. “Jin kept making pretty blasé comments to me about us,” he tells you. “But he does that about most things, so.”

You hum lightly before pressing back further against Hoseok, who tightens his hold around you in response. “I guess they knew before we did,” you say. “We’ve been acting like a couple for a long time, to be fair.” Thinking back on it, it was pretty obvious, but hindsight is 20/20, as they say. 

The next morning, as always, you wake before Hoseok- and this time when you feel the hardness pressed into your ass, you don’t panic. You do what you always do and slide carefully out of Hoseok’s arms, but unlike every other morning, he doesn’t wake up to an empty bed. Instead, he wakes up with a small gasp to the sight of you with your mouth around his cock, your eyes wide and innocent as you stare up at him; you work him up while he’s still half-asleep and slow, swallowing down his cock until he cums down your throat. You litter kisses over his hips and thighs, smiling into his skin as he comes down from his peak, his pupils blown.

“Morning, Hobi,” you say, kissing the divot below his hip bones. “I love you.”

“Come here,” he says, voice still a rasp from his sleep, eyes hungry as he reaches for you.

When the two of you eventually stumble downstairs for breakfast, Jimin and Taehyung are already there; you’re much later than normal but neither of the boys seems to notice anything out of the ordinary, Taehyung asking Hoseok to pass the pepper mill as soon as you’ve sat down.

Taehyung is enthusiastically grinding pepper over his bacon and eggs when Jimin pipes up. “You know, the ghosts in this B&B apparently like to watch the guests while they try to sleep and make noises to keep them up,” he says conversationally. “You didn’t happen to notice anything out of the ordinary in your room, did you? Taehyung and I could have sworn that we heard moaning or something at some point, but I think it must have been a trick of our minds.”

You and Hoseok exchange a quick glance. “Uh, nope, can’t say that we did,” you say, and Hoseok nods emphatically in agreement.

Jimin pauses. He squints at you, before turning to Taehyung and pulling the pepper mill out of his hands to get his attention. “I told you it was going to happen soon,” Jimin says. “They finally hit critical mass and confessed. I knew that moaning wasn’t from ghosts.”

“And there’s no mess to clean up, even if we didn’t win the betting pool.” Taehyung sounds pleased. “Can you pass the salt now please?”

You watch incredulously as both boys continue their business as usual, Taehyung swapping the pepper mill for the salt grinder while Jimin opens a tiny jar of raspberry jam for his toast. 

You turn to Hoseok, scandalised at the idea that a) your friends/co-workers heard you last night and b) there’s apparently some sort of office bet about your relationship with Hoseok, only to find that the man in question has a look of alarm on his face.

“Do you think the ghosts were watching us last night?” He has an expression that’s a mix of affronted and also scared. “That’s dirty.”

“No, baby, I don’t think we had ghostly voyeurs in our room,” you say, stroking Hoseok’s hand with reassuring fingers, before you frown and look back at the other two boys. “I hate our friends. You have a betting pool?”

“Yeah, it’s pretty big,” Taehyung says. “I’m not sure who’s won the money, I’d have to check the spreadsheet when we get back home.”

“I bet Jin was the one who came up with it, wasn’t he?” Taehyung and Jimin exchange a look, but neither of them say anything, which is more than enough to answer your question. “I’m going to shove a wedge of parmesan down his throat when we get home and see how he likes it.”

“I love you,” Hoseok says.

“I love you too,” you reply, turning your head to accept the kiss he gives you.

“You’re so cute,” Jimin says.

“Why parmesan?” Taehyung asks, before twisting the salt grinder with enough gusto that he pulls the bottom off and salt goes cascading over his breakfast. “Oh, oops. Do you think they’ll let me have more eggs?”

--

Your thank you/apology gift to Namjoon is a tin of Scottish shortbread that you find in a cute tourist shop, although when you find out he’s actually the proud winner of 50% of the betting pool, you take the shortbread back for yourself and Hoseok instead.

When Yoongi arrives at his desk to the sight of you sitting in Hoseok’s lap and feeding him between kisses, he just rolls his eyes, mutters ‘finally’, and makes no further comments. You laugh into Hoseok’s mouth and allow Jungkook to steal a piece of shortbread on his way past, too busy kissing your boyfriend to care.

“You can have the last bit of shortbread,” you say, and Hoseok grins up at you.

“You’re just saying that because I ate you out this morning,” he says, and you giggle.

“I can’t believe you just made me listen to that with my own two ears. I’m in hell.” Yoongi sounds so tired. “I think I preferred it when the two of you were dancing around each other. Go back to doing that.”

“No can do, Yoongles,” you sing-song. “I love Hoseok and I’m going to make sure everyone knows it.”

“I love you too,” Hoseok says, looking up at you with bright eyes, and you giggle before dipping down to kiss him again.

“Everyone else knew before you did,” Yoongi mutters, but neither of you pay him any mind.

[volixia669]

So bearing in mine crack ships and rare ships seem to be my bread and butter, especially if a fic can make a reasonable argument for them...

I both love and hate how as a quartet, Kurapika, Leorio, Hisoka, and Illumi somehow work? At the VERY least as some weird ass friendship that Killua & Gon just stare at going “???????” And like, when it comes to Hisoka, we know Kurapika has gotten into contact with him and I feel like still gets random texts. Even when Kurapika changes his number. Kurapika never responds, but while some of the texts are disturbing, others do get a snort out of him. (And sometimes it’s the disturbing texts that do that but he’s totally doing fine.)

Leorio has sadly been put on a bus for awhile, but we know that fucking serial murdering clown Hisoka decided that “Nah, this one I’m gonna keep alive” in the Hunter Exam. One could argue plot armor, but mysterious reasons that Hisoka refuses to give up no matter how many times Leorio presses him are even better. Also I feel like they’d relate to each other on the most random shit and every time Leorio has to do a double take.

HisoIllu is such a fave ship, I don’t really need to go into those two, nor do I really need to go into LeoPika.

Illumi is where things get interesting. Mainly because personally I think in order for him to get closer to Leorio and Kurapika, he needs a few reality checks. Now, I don’t believe he just mindlessly follows what his parents say. His actions are mostly in line with his parent’s views, though his desire for more power as well as his desire to protect Killua means he will sometimes take a few extra steps more in line with his own goals.

Basically an outside character, most likely keeping an eye out for Killua, needs to call Illumi out on, “You’re causing more harm than good.” and “Is this really the life you want?” and “No seriously, what you’re doing is just plain stupid you’re making Killua hate you, even if he does do what your parents want and become head of household he’d have every right to kill you for how you’ve hurt him don’t be fucking stupid.”

Anyways. Outside character. Leorio can work for this, or even Hisoka (though his concept of normal is...warped). But given how the Zoldycks seem to use similar uh, upbringing tactics as Evangelicals, I’d argue that an older character would be more effective in getting Illumi to wise up. (It’s the whole obedience thing) I don’t think the Zoldycks have the whole “men are superior to women” thing, so can be an older female character.

So, have someone like Bisky, Morel, even an OC start Illumi on some character development, and now we’re cooking.

For starters, Hisoka gets to be slightly less done with this dipshit.

Then, Illumi tries reaching out to Killua in ways that are awkward as fuck as far as everyone else is concerned.

Which means Leorio gets to stare at Illumi wondering why this is his fucking life and getting Illumi to try in...slightly more normal ways. Which can lead to some chats, especially as some here on tumblr have helped established that when not on the job, and talking to someone he trusts? Illumi can go on.

Kurapika is initially wary, but I think between being incredibly obvservant, and a very dark sense of humor that would have developed while neck deep in mafia bs (he’s totally doing fine btw) there’d be some uh. Gore-y convos? Also nen discussions. Leorio eventually drags Kurapika away so the dude can have a breakdown, but even if he gets therapy, I feel like Illumi and Kurapika would also connect on arguably random things.

Also I’d note, that not only are these characters more mature/older, but they are all intensely loyal in ways both obvious and subtle. Which as HxH loves to point out narratively, can be both a character trait and a character flaw.

[honney-boy]

Wonder (Prologue)

Rudy Pankow x Oc!Reader

Wonder Series Masterlist | Wonder Playlist

Short series summary:  Rudy never thought that the one app he uses the least would turn out to the app where he meets the most down to earth and a fantastic person. What first started out as conversations over text turn into a full-blown out road trip where they get to know each other. What was supposed to be a simple trip between two strangers turned into a simple trip with two friends…then it got complicated.

Full Summary and Story Concept

Warning(s): language, shenanigans 

Words: 989

A/N: Okay, okay, this is my first attempt at a Rudy fic. My first series too! But if this flops, let's pretend it never happened, okay? :) But If you guys want to read more, please do let me know. Your love and support is the encouragement I need. Plus, others on the site write a 1000 times better so I don't expect to be praised for this. Like seriously, I got the concept from tik tok haha. Fair warning, I am handwriting out chapters with a pen and paper before converting it digitally, so updates with be spread out. THERE WILL BE GRAMMAR MISTAKES! I'm human, and Tumblr is my test run for this series. Anywho, hope you enjoy :) (these notes will be shorter in the future)

taglist

Zero | “It’s A Dating App At This Point”

“Excuse my french, but you’re being a douchebaguette.”

A controlled laugh - snicker echoed through the dimly lit room. The snicker was short until all you heard was the deep intake of breath before it was no longer a snicker but a hidden smile behind a blanket. The only source of light was coming from the tv mounted to the wall and a phone. Nevaeh was aimlessly scrolling through videos. Those videos' sound was muted because her focus was supposed to be on the television watching the show her roommate put on for them. The two of them ordered in - Nevaeh ordering the food after getting into her pajamas, and Birdie was deciding on the show. They agreed on Brooklyn Nine-nine; it was a Hulu type of night instead of the usual Disney+. 

Ping!

Nevaeh's phone chimed once, not surprising her, but then it sounded three more times in a row after that. The inbox tab lit up with numbers. Clicking on her activity feed, spam of likes rolled in like a soccer ball on the field. The noise pulled her roommate's attention next to her; Birdie squinted her eyes and sent her friend a glare.

"You're not even paying attention. I knew it after you didn't laugh at Peralta's tomfoolery; you always laugh at that," she says, but Nevaeh didn't pay her any mind. "Vae, hello. Are you even listening?" Birdie gave Nevaeh's shoulder a push - nothing too hard, just enough to grab her attention.

“Huh? Shoot, sorry, I’m paying attention now,” Nevaeh flicked the button on the side of her phone, silencing it, then clicked the power button and turned toward the tv. Birdie, who tended to be techy, didn’t make a move to unpause to the screen. Her friend noticed and faced her friend-raising an eyebrow at Birdie’s reluctance. “Are you going to unpause it?”

Huffing, the blonde turned her body and unpaused the tv like nothing happened. Nevaeh shook her head and let her attention become encased with the comedy series. Her phone screen lit up, and looking down at her lap, sure enough, it was Tik tok again.

Someone liked your video!

Someone commented on your video! 

She read the notifications to herself, tempted to check the app but didn't budge.

rudeth started following you!

"Who's that?" Nevaeh jerked with the sudden sound of Birdie's voice next to her. When she looked over to her side, the blonde shrugged her shoulders and leaned over more. "What? Your phone kept lighting up, so I wanted to know what had your attention. Thought it was some boy that was blowing your phone up."

"Well, it's creepy when you're quiet about your snooping - then the hovering over the shoulder thing." The brown-haired girl shakes her head and grimaces.

Birdie cackles, "Get over it, that's the point of snooping, to be quiet about it," She got up from her spot on the couch, taking her blanket she had across her lap and wrapped it around her shoulders. "I'm your personal stalker, you know this."

"I do; how could I forget about my own peeping tom?" Birdie carried herself into the kitchen. She laughed again; her laugh grew quieter the further she walked into the kitchen. Nevaeh took the opportunity to check her phone to check out who spammed her with likes and comments. Birdie was making a lot of noise as she moved about in the kitchen. Her friend wasn't too far off with Nevaeh's phone. There were a few likes and comments from different individuals when looking through her feed, but the spam was from one person. She didn't know who he was. His profile picture was warped - that didn't help. His profile consisted of only one video, it wouldn't load on her phone, and there wasn't anything in the bio. So, this stranger was a stranger, but she had the odd urge to follow him; out of curiosity.

“Who was the mystery spammer?” her roommate called out and asked from the doorway of the kitchen before walking back to get comfortable on the couch.

“Some random guy,”

“Well, why’d you follow him?” Birdie spoke over her shoulder, spooking the girl again.

“I don’t know,” she breathed, which was sort of right. She was curious but didn’t know. She did it to be nice but didn’t know. She wan-

You have a new message!

“Oh my god, did that weirdo message you?” At this point, Birdie climbed over the couch and scooted close to Nevaeh. It almost made her laugh, but she just smiled.

“We don’t know if he is a weirdo yet…”

“Well, he followed you, then sent a message right after you followed back - “

“That isn’t weird,”

“He followed your Instagram and is probably spamming you there.”

“Maybe he wants a friend.” Nevaeh offered, trying to stick up for the stranger. Maybe it was a little weird, but Nevaeh would do something like that. She’s the type that would tell a girl how beautiful she was, even if she didn’t know her. Or ask complete strangers if they might want to be a part of a project she’s working on. Quite honestly, the woman hates strangers; it can get real awkward fast, but she’s working on being more affable. Easy to talk to if need be.

“Maybe he wants your attention,”

“Nevaeh gasped as her mind came to a conclusion, one Birdie wanted to know; her eyes snapped up to Nevaeh as she also looked at her. “Maybe he’s flirting.” Birdie rolled her eyes.

"It's a dating app at this point - well, open the damn message so we can find out." So she did. She went to her inbox, what the stranger's said appeared at the top. She could only make out a little of what the message said, but it was too long to not read without clicking the conversation window.

rudeth: Hey! One of your videos popped up on my fyp and I think...

➣ End Note:

So, I think you guys will love the Nevaeh and Birdie friendship duo. But look at that theres a little of Rudy this chapter and Birdie calling him a weirdo :P Wonder if she’ll call him that to his face.

AGAIN IF YOU WANT ME TO CONTINUE THE SERIES I WILL, JUST LET ME KNOW.

Wonder Taglist:

No one so far but tags are always open!

[whumpster-fire]

More on Redemption Arcs

So, there’s something else I want to say about Enemies to Lovers / Enemies to Friends / in general redemption arcs, and in particular those where a character who’s previously been hurt by a villain or their associates is now in a caretaking role for that villain.

Obligatory no one is obligated to forgive someone who’s caused them trauma, or go through the emotional labor of supporting them, or ever interact with them again. But, IMO, it works better if you approach it from the perspective of: “Okay, so why would the traumatized character want to interact with the source of that trauma?” Think about something positive they’re getting from this relationship, from the character’s perspective, and/or think about it in terms of what would establish a bond between them that would cause character A to not want to say: “Okay I don’t care if they’re reformed / reformable, they’re someone else’s problem.”

And obviously there’s better and worse, or at least healthier and less healthy reasons for this. One good one is to have circumstances / the plot force them to grit their teeth and work together, causing bonding through alliance (I dunno the actual term), and at some point during or after this they go “Oh shit we’re actually friends now” (CoughZukoCough). Another of my favorites is to have characters bonding through a shared trauma. This could be a “we’re all in the same boat” situation like I mentioned above but instead of succeeding together they suffer together, or it could be through similar circumstances but not actually the same event, or it could be they’re both abused and traumatized by the same Even Worse Villain and the subordinate villain ends up standing up to their abuser and helping the hero. (E.g. @wildfaewhump’s Iesin and Talvos storyline here on Tumblr, go check it out).

Here’s a couple of case studies of this with redemption arcs I’ve written avoided writing like 90% of the actual recovery phase of, which I’m putting below a Keep Reading both because we’re several paragraphs in now and because one of them spoils the canon material, and also yeah I’m being obnoxious writing long-winded essays about my own fics even if it is my blog. Fics are linked to Ao3, check the tags and summaries on there for trigger warnings and read at your own risk.

Case One: Resurrection x And x Reconciliation

This is in the Hunter X Hunter fandom, and it’s a Gon & Neferpitou friendship, which if you’re familiar with the canon material sounds like the worst fucking idea ever for an enemies to friends arc. Long story short Pitou killed (and also reanimated as a corpse puppet) someone close to Gon, and the trauma of this utterly broke him, to the point of being so obsessed with revenge that he pushed away and hurt his closest friend, took an innocent person hostage for leverage, and basically snapped and went to utterly insane lengths to kill Pitou that it would have caused him a slow, horribly painful death if it weren’t for circumstances.

Okay, but long story short, the person whose death set this all off later turned out to have somehow reincarnated himself into another body, and Gon already processes stuff in really weird ways, so he was now left struggling to process the delayed realization of all the fuckups and reckless and harmful things he’d done, and the trauma of the actual “fight” against Pitou, and meanwhile Pitou got the fun experience of experiencing grief and loss and a near-death (technically actual death) experience for the first time and starting to process that she’d caused that kind of trauma for hundreds of thousands of fully sentient people. And also it turned out that they both sacrificed their lives to kill each other and accomplished absolutely nothing in the process, because the person Gon was trying to avenge turned out to be still alive, and the person Pitou was trying to protected turned out to already be fatally injured.

So this is kind of the exception that proves the rule because Gon and Pitou’s friendship is absolutely 100% born of shared trauma, it’s just that a major part of said trauma was mutually inflicted on each other, and supporting each other kind of helps them heal. This isn’t necessarily actually psychologically healthy or a good idea, but it’s pretty well established in canon that the only thing worse than every single adult in the setting’s track record at supporting people during mental health crises is their track record at stopping Gon from doing whatever the fuck he decides to do, and no one wants to deal with Pitou either.

Case Two: La Resistance / Fresh Ink

This is in, uhh, the Warner Bros Cartoon Universe fandom / Who Framed Roger Rabbit fandom, but by nature the canon material doesn’t have much of a plot for the former and the later is really just the setting. Lemme try and summarize this: in the final battle against the terrorist group that was creating Toons (living cartoon characters with reality warping powers) as living weapons in an attempted genocide against other Toons, the only two surviving toons on the villain’s side, Wendy Weasel and Riley Raccoon, were semi-adopted by some of the protagonists: Yakko, Wakko, and Dot Warner, and Slappy Squirrel. At first mostly Wendy because in the immediate aftermath of the battle Riley was in the ICU.

Okay, why did they spend their time dealing with her? This one’s different because Wendy herself didn’t really cause that much in the way of direct trauma to the characters who ended up supporting her - the ones she really hurt didn’t have much to do with her - however she’s just a fucking chore to try to get along with because she’s passive-aggressive, aggressive-aggressive, destructive-aggressive, and her main defense mechanism is to intensify these traits even further so she was just a hostile brat most of the time.

Well, this starts as a “Forced together by external circumstances” plot, of a sort: Wendy ended up as a prisoner after the battle - she defected, but never actually surrendered because she knocked herself unconscious while killing the main villain. The FBI did not want to have to deal with a prisoner who could teleport through walls, pull weapons and tools out of thin air, Jedi Mind Trick guards, etc. etc. etc, and the Warner Siblings just happened to be in a possession of a tailor-made prison designed to hold creatures like her (originally meant to contain them, they broke out but refused to move out) and were among the like 5-10 people on the planet who could actually fight her, so the Feds basically went: “Your problem now,” or just as accurately, the Warners and Slappy were not letting what was obviously an indoctrinated child soldier who defected and helped them get deemed “Too dangerous to let live since we can’t keep her contained long enough to have a trial” as a matter of principle.

But reason B, especially as they interacted with Wendy, is that the Warners and to a lesser extent Slappy knew what it was like to be drawn into existence and surrounded by people who hated them, feared them, or at least didn’t respect them. Again there was an attempt to seal the Warners permanently in an inescapable prison, and this was before a method of actually killing Toons was invented so they’re pretty sure the humans would have preferred to straight-up murder them for being too powerful and out of control... which was also the exact same ideology held by Wendy’s creators. And they also really empathized with the strong “sibling” bond she had with Riley (not actually supposed to be siblings but drawn by the same animator so sort of siblings and they just kinda decided they were) because it reminded them of themselves as well. This is self-explanatory with the Warners, with Slappy, in the fic she and Screwy Squirrel were siblings, and “Gee wouldn’t it be terrifying if a character as chaotic and sadistic as Screwy Squirrel was a villain was literally the starting point for Wendy’s character concept.

Also reason C is “Obnoxious child using passive-aggressiveness to mask trauma, anger, and need for love and attention” fit right in in the WB Studio Water Tower.

Anyway tl;dr that’s another example of a potential motive behind the caretakers in a redemption arc: if the characters sort of identify with the villain due to similar backgrounds to the point where they sort of go: “That could’ve been me in different circumstances.”

[silverbastardgoldenfool]

Realm of the Quarantine Reread End-of-Book Questionnaire: Assassin’s Apprentice

Any differences between your first/previous reading experience and this one?

Uhhhhh yep!! I can’t even believe how different it was. Every scene has taken on an entirely different colour and flavour in my memory. I skimmed far too much the first time, yes, but also I just went into it with the wrong framework. I think I’ve mentioned this before but my mum recommended me these books on the basis of my love of A Song of Ice and Fire. She directly compared them and said how similar they were. Because of RotE’s length I had been putting it off for years, and only finally picked up Assassin’s Apprentice because I was itching to do an ASOIAF reread but was (and am) trying to wait until Winds of Winter to do it. 

So you can imagine the difficulty settling into a book like Assassin’s Apprentice when you’re expecting Game of Thrones. I remember my overall impression on my first read being that it was a pretty standard fantasy novel with the only really exceptional thing about it being the characters and their relationships. Characters are always my top priority so it was enough to keep me invested and progressing onto the next book and the rest of the series, but I did so not having absorbed nearly as much as I should have from the first book in the series.

Now, just from revisiting that first book, my understanding of Fitz and the world he operates in has exponentially increased and I know that will transform my experience of every book going forward. I really made sure to make myself slow down and read every word; absorb descriptions and just be in each moment without racing to the next one. Overall this book (and all the Fitz books) are much more concerned with the human condition and the effects of abuse and trauma and deep loneliness than being an epic fantasy. In fact it barely reads like fantasy at all; it’s incredibly grounded and focused. Of course the elements are there, but while Assassin’s Apprentice may not be as subversive as the rest of the series, it is certainly not generic fantasy. This book just feels alive to me now in a way it didn’t before against the rest of the series. I can regard it as a beautiful piece of the puzzle in its own right instead of just the setup. I wanna reiterate I always really liked Assassin’s Apprentice but it just paled in comparison to my unholy obsession with the rest of it. Idk this reread just really shifted a lot of things into perspective for me and I’m excited!!

Something you can’t believe you forgot

So so much but most ridiculous GALEN IS QUEEN DESIRE’S BASTARD am I dumb??? I didn’t even remember until it was explicitly stated lol

Favourite character introduction moments/scenes

It’s gotta be a tie between the Fool, Kettricken and Patience (realising there is a common theme here of Fitz making an idiot of himself). I genuinely was laughing so hard when Fitz is like, actively making himself smaller and so pleased with himself trying to help the Fool, and of course the Fool’s iconic “listen you idiot” ugh it’s just chef’s kiss baby, that’s what we in the biz call a meet-cute! (I know they have seen each other before, but this is the first time the Fool talks to Fitz). Then of course we have Kettricken who poisons Fitz at their first meeting, and Patience who Fitz continuously embarrasses himself in front of before even realising who she is. The fact that all three of these people end up being some of Fitz’s only genuinely loving relationships makes it even better.

Favourite character arcs

I think I’ve gotta go with Verity and Burrich. Verity goes from kind of a bloke’s bloke (he was so different in the beginning than I remembered!) to being a proper King-in-Waiting. He is self-sacrificial but not for pride; he genuinely cares deeply for his people, as a whole and as individuals, and will do anything it takes to protect them. He is far from perfect, and he could have done a lot more for Fitz when he was younger, but once Fitz is in his eyeline and he is confronted with the life the boy has led he seems suitably shamed and tries to do his best for him. He’s a good boy and I love him!

Burrich of course is just. unlucky. His health deteriorates due to injuries. He gets saddled with some kid and is burdened to bring him up to an impossible standard he has set himself (to not shame a man he has an impossibly high opinion of). He’s deprived of a job he loved and was good at, and most importantly he’s deprived of his boyfriend I mean lover I mean “master”.

His arc is not a happy one at all but it is compelling, and I can’t help but love him and feel for him despite also disagreeing with him on almost everything :)

Favourite quote/s

Unfortunately I don’t have any tabs atm so I couldn’t really keep track, but my heart exploded when Fitz said to the Fool after going into his room, “I wish I had a place that were as much me as that place is you.”

Favourite relationships

Fitz/Fool obviously. Even though they don’t have that many interactions in this book I loved every single one of them. The Fool volunteering to care for Smithy after Fitz has endured a long day of horrendous abuse is just!!!!! Kindness! What a concept! I could really see why they develop such a deep bond so quickly.

Fitz/Burrich is just so real and so compelling and it hurts me but I love it. Fitz/Chade breaks my heart bc Chade is manipulating his way into Fitz’s heart - I think without realising it a lot of the time bc he is lonely too, but the power imbalance is not okay when he is the centre of Fitz’s world for a long time and the closest thing he has to a friend. Knowing how Chade behaves not too much later just makes it even worse when he is so nice in this book because it just shows why Fitz has such a hard time being his own person and saying no to Chade ever.

Fitz/Verity for obvious reasons. Fitz/Hands!! They’re cute but it makes me sad that Hands betrays him in AQ. Weirdly I liked Fitz/Molly way more this time but more their friendship than anything. And next is Royal Assassin and their deeply toxic romance soooooo.

And Fitz and his puppies BUT WE DON’T TALK ABOUT THAT.

Favourite setting

Do yourself a favour and read the description of the Mountain Kingdom and specifically the palace. It is STUNNING and something I completely skimmed over the first time cos I’m a dumb idiot bitch I could have been picturing a city of huge colourful tulips all this time but fuck me I guess!!

Favourite chapter

As a rereader I think I’ve gotta say chapter one. There’s just so much to pick apart all crammed into one chapter. It still holds a lot of mystery even when you’ve read the entire series.

Most loved character

At this point I’ve gotta say Fitz. That’s who my heart is with during this book and he NEEDS IT

Most hated character

Okay I found Regal a much better villain on this read and hated him A LOT but whomst I despised even more w the very fibre of my being was Galen bitch disgusting!!!!!! Verity was so like, smug?? when he killed him and it was so satisfying. It’s what she deserves!!

Raise your hand if you’ve been personally victimised by Robin Hobb (most heartbreaking and/or visceral moments)

Literally this whole book was so harsh and I was perpetually emo throughout but off the top of my head, Fitz’s depressive episode after Shrewd and Chade test his loyalty fricking broke me, as did the entirety of Galen’s abuse/training; since I was paying so much more attention this time it hit a lot harder that he is an absolute textbook abuser and the psychological torment he inflicts on Fitz is just. deeply upsetting to say the least. It really got under my skin.

Details, observations, spoilery notes made with the benefit of the full picture

Okay this is where I just dump all the notes I took while reading that don’t fit anywhere else. It’ll be long lol so strap in.

- It’s never not funny to me that Narrator Fitz comes across as like a hundred years old when in actuality he is like twenty. Also that he looks back on himself with such a sense of wisdom and superiority, yet we know there is dumbarsery aplenty to come. Amazing.

- I’ve never really registered that for the first six years of his life Fitz had a mother who loved him and I don’t know how to feel about that

- REVELATION THAT SEEMS REALLY OBVIOUS IN HINDSIGHT: Fitz most likely only spoke Chyurdan when he was abandoned, which would have played a huge role in why he was not only quiet but unresponsive to what was happening around him. He probably didn’t even understand that he wasn’t going to see his mother again until much later, and he didn’t know how to ask questions. When he goes to the Mountain Kingdom and Kettricken comments that he speaks Chyurdan like someone remembering the language he doesn’t comment on it, so it’s likely that future Fitz doesn’t register that he didn’t always speak Six Duchies(?). He mentions in the narration that the memory of being abandoned is incredibly stark but not necessarily reliable, and possibly shaped by the Skill, which to me opens up the possibility that his memory is essentially auto-translating for him things he didn’t understand at the time. We also know that at the time of writing this he’s given up his memories of his mother etc. up to the stone dragon, so obviously his recollections of these traumatic events are going to be warped by that. Anyway thanks to my sister for pointing this out and being much smarter than me.

- According to Fitz’s grandfather, Chivalry always knew about Fitz. Don’t know how trustworthy a man desperate to yeet his grandson out of his care is but there ya go.

- Weird and hilarious that Shrewd tries to see Fitz on the day he arrives but then just like. What? Forgets about him? For years? lol

- Chade literally tells Fitz that he is a king’s man now and that’s the most important thing about him YIKES

- Chade becomes the closest thing Fitz has to a friend for quite a long time and that is fucking depressing

- It’s interesting that Chade had to be convinced to teach Fitz. It’s hinted at that there was an ~incident~ the last time they tried to train someone, followed by a long period of Chade being left to rot in the walls.

- Not to be out here diagnosing fictional characters but like.Fitz. Literally has depression.

- Fitz having to turn down Fedwren’s offer of apprenticing for him is so sad. It’s the life Fitz should have had.

- The Fool’s non-binary gender is mentioned as early as Chapter Nine! (Published in 1995! We have no choice but to stan!)

- “So quickly we were all made accomplices in our own degradation.” OOF.

- I really realised this time that the reason Fitz seems so shit at things he trained his whole life for later is because all that training was interrupted by many months of isolation, deprivation and abuse. All at the age of like 13-14. He got out of the habit of subconsciously acting in a way that Burrich or Chade would approve of. For a long time the only person he needed approval from was Galen, and he became completely single-minded about it because that was his means of survival. And you don’t just recover from that - especially since neither Chade or Burrich would give him the time of day for an extended period *after* his training was done. When Chade did finally talk to him again it wasn’t to recommence training really; he just gave him a bunch of tasks to do. By the time Fitz got to the Mountain Kingdom he was completely out of practice, and still managed pretty bloody well in spite of it.

- Kind of related to the last point: I love that while Fitz isn’t a savant at anything he’s a pretty realistic jack of all trades. He not only has an aptitude for learning almost any skill or subject but a genuine broad curiosity too. It’s one of the few things that is just him, ya know? It’s just his personality and something he can find joy in, even if it does also factor into his being used by others.

- Imagine being Burrich and finding out that your son thought you were a dog murderer for like ten years lol ouch

- Fitz thinks about the Fool soooo often in the Mountain Kingdom, pointing out things that remind him of him, or things he would like. It’s v soft tbh I love them so much!!

- Another dumb thing I forgot is that Regal is convinced that Shrewd had Fitz poison his mother to death, which adds a rather important layer onto his motivations lol

Anyone doing a reread feel free to fill this out! You don’t have to use the tag :)

[rogueariadne]

To Have A Villain’s Quirk

SEVENTEEN: JEALOUS

Song: White Dress - Parachute

"After fifteen minutes to pick teammates and talk strategy, twelve cavalry teams are preparing to go head-to-head!" Mic's voice rang through the stadium as the timer went off, catching Kaida's attention as her team prepared, hoisting up Shinso to be their rider. In that time, Kaida still couldn't figure out what was going with with Ojiro and the student from 1-B, but as he commanded them, it clicked. He was using his quirk. But why wouldn't he use it on her? Maybe there was a limit? She didn't even know what kind of quirk it was but it was some type of mind control. "Come on, everyone get your hands in the air! It's time for an arena-thumping UA battle royale! Let me hear ya scream!"

As the teams gathered around the battle field, Kaida carefully gripped the boys leg, smirking. In the extra time they had left, it gave Kaida the chance to fuel back up, her power back to one hundred percent. Sure, she was still worn out from the previous round, but the amount of flesh she ingested put her back on top to be able to deal with her classmates. Bakugo and Midoriya would be the easiest ones to deal with, seeing as she has somewhat trained with both of them, and she at least knows the fighting styles of the rest of her class.

"Okay, all you first years! I hope you're happy with your chosen teams! Let's get this party started! One final countdown before the game starts!" As Mic started the countdown from three, she felt a small tap to her head, her looking up at Hitoshi.

"Defense." It was just one word but she knew what he wanted.

"Begin!" Quirk activated, four tails swirled around her team to protect them, two other tails watching their backs. Just like every other team, they were after Midoriya, picking up the pace until they took off into the air thanks to the support course's equipment. With every team distracted, Kaida took the opportunity to try to steal headbands along the way, using her extended arms to her advantage. Her team was mostly passing the others by, taking headbands when they could. They weren't too focused on getting to Midoriya now like some of the others were. It was only the halfway point, and their best bet was to really wait it out, with how many points they had at the moment. They should be okay. With the other teams getting frozen over, Shinso was happy to take some of their headbands away.

"Only one minute left! Todoroki has cornered the ten-million-point team and is poised to seize the ultimate prize! At least, that's what I would have predicted five minutes ago!" Todoroki cornered Midoriya's team? There's no way he'd be beaten in strategy by them.. Izuku's too smart for his own good sometimes. There's just no way.. "Unbelievably, Team Midoriya's been able to keep away from the ice master for the last half of the game!"

"Wo-ho-ho! What just happened?! That was one big blur!" Her team came to a stop, looking in the direction of the ice walls. "Holy smokes, folks! Why didn't he show that super speed in the preliminaries?" That had to be talking about Iida? She was dying to know what happened, as time was almost up. "Insanity! This entire game was just turned completely on its head! Todoroki's team has the ten million points, and Midoriya's team is suddenly left with nothing at all!"

"What..?" A couple of tails disappeared from shock, Shinso quickly tapping her head again.

"Focus."

"Ah, right." But she didn't need to.

"Time's up! And with that, the second round is officially over! Now, let's take a look at who our top four teams are!" She let the boy down, stepping aside as they all stared up at the leader board, fingers crossed. "In first place, Team Todoroki! In second place, Team Bakugo! In third place is Tetsute- Wait, what?" Some of the cameras were met with two very confused boys, and the smirks of Kaida and Hitoshi. "It's Team Shinso? When did they come back from the dead?"

"Thanks for all your help." The boy said, walking away from the group while Kaida crossed her arms, turning to look at Ojiro. He was staring, terrified, after the other.

"And in fourth place is Team Midoriya!" So, he did advance! She grinned up at the cameras, seeing the boy in question crying a fountain. "These four valiant teams will advance on to the final round! Now, let's take an hour lunch break before we start the afternoon festivities! See ya soon!"

"Uh, hey.. Hiyama..?"

"Hm?" She turned her gaze to her blond teammate, tilting her head in question. "Mashi, are you okay?"

"What.. happened?" It was almost as if he was scared.

"We, our team made it to the finals. Do you not remember?"

"I.." He glanced away from her, her following his eyes after Shinso. "I just remember him asking me to join.. then nothing." She looked between the two before looking down.

"Hm..."

*

"Hi-To-Shi~!" The boy in question heard footsteps pounding behind him, getting closer down the outside corridor. He shuffled to a stop as he turned, only to be greeted with the female he had teamed up with during the cavalry battle, her waving away and catching up with him. "Hey!"

"Ya know it's rude to use first names with people you don't know well?" She only tilted her head, coming to a stop just a few feet away from him.

"Really? But, I thought you called your friends by their first names?"

"I don't recall us being friends." She had a warped concept of friendship, seeing as she called most of her classmates by their first names, and they never once complained, so she figured that made them friends. And that Hitoshi didn't stop her when she gave him a nickname.

"Oh. Hm.." She glanced away for a moment, a small frown coming to her face. "Your quirk.. it's some kind of mind control, isn't it? That's how you got Ojiro and the boy from 1-B on your team."

"You put that together from very little evidence?" He had a brow raised in question, a small smirk trying to form. She just shrugged.

"It's a gift. Anyways.." She looked away, watching a few small rodents run up and down the trees. "How come you didn't use it on me? Wouldn't that have benefited you more?"

"Did you want me to?" She snapped her gaze back to him, shaking her head quickly and taking a step forward.

"No, that's not wh-!" What was happening? She couldn't move, or say anything.

"Because I didn't need to tell you what to do, you already knew. But now, go away." She felt her body, turning around to head back to where she came from.

'No, no, no! Stop! What are you doing?! I wasn't finished talking!' She tried to yell out but she didn't make a sound as she disappeared back into the building. Once around the corner, she felt his quirk stop working, her being able to move freely. She gasped and ran back to where they were talking, only for him to be gone. "Dammit!"

She wandered around the grounds, weaving through the crowds and looking at all of the booths and festivities they had set up. It was pretty amazing. She had never really gone to a festival, let alone a school festival. So, walking around, she distracted herself with the chatter and the laughter. It was so cheery, light hearted. Though it was a happy atmosphere, she couldn't shake the feeling that she was being followed. There were so many people, it had to be her imagination. Right?

"Excuse me!" Kaida jumped as a hand clamped around her arm, head swiveling around to meet wide golden eyes. "Hi! You're one of the first years that are moving onto the finals round, aren't you?"

"Ah.. yeah, I am!" She'll admit, Kaida was a little freaked out. A girl comes out of no where and won't get out of her personal space, almost fawning over her. She guessed that her expression was enough for the girl to let go, giggling a little.

"I'm sorry, am i making you uncomfortable? My bad~! I'm just a big fan! Your quirk is so cool! And you're really pretty, you remind me of someone. What was your name again?" The blonde bounced a little, tilting her head with a toothy smile.

"Oh, I'm Kaida. Hiyama-"

"Hiyama. Hiyama. Oh! Like Kaori Hiyama! That's who you look like!"

"That's my mom, you know my mom?" She was a little shocked, she had never heard anything from her mom about any kids she might've known. Kaori was mostly a stay at home mom, but normally went out every other day to do shopping or the like. Her side of the family was never really in town, and she never knew her dad's family.

"That's your mom?! I see her in town all the time! She's super nice and always gives me snacks if we run into each other!"

"Ha.. yeah, that kinda sounds like her." She scratched the back of her neck, slipping a hand into her pocket. The pretty girl in front of her grinned, nodding away as she clapped her hands.

"We should definitely hang out sometime, I think we could be really great friends!" She looked behind her before grabbing Kaida's hands in hers. "I gotta go but hopefully we'll see each other again! Bye-bye lil' sis!"

"Wait but I don't even know.. your.. name.." Kaida called out to the girl but she had already disappeared into the crowd. She sighed, playing with her hair as she turned to go back to the stadium. The lunch hour was almost up, and she didn't know what else to do. What could she do besides wait? She could always find Shinso, she wasn't done talking with him. Before she could do that though, she could here Present Mic's voice all the way from where she was, saying how it was almost time for the last round. Kaida sighed once again, quickly finding her way back to the stadium. Only to be met with an astonishing sight that made her cover the giggles erupting from her.

"Wh-what are you guys wearing?" The girls from 1-A turned and looked at her, completely embarrassed. Yaoyorozu whined, covering her face.

"It was the stupid pervert's little scheme.. we all fell for it.." Kaida gently patted the taller girl's shoulder, walking with them over to the tournament board to determine who they'd be fighting.

"Don't worry Momo, we'll get him back. I promise." That seemed to reassure the team of girls, most of them glaring at the little grape boy and his electric side kick. All of the first year students gathered in front of the platform where Midnight stood, watching as she picked up a box and walked to the front. Standing beside Momo and Mina, she heard some of her and Sero's conversation about the finals but mostly ignored everyone.

"Come closer and draw lots to see who you're up against. Then enjoy the pleasure of the recreational games before we start. The sixteen finalists have the option of participating in those activities or sitting out to prepare for battle. I'm sure you all want to conserve your stamina. I'll start with the first place team." She started to walk before Ojiro put his hand up and caught everyone's attention.

"Um. Excuse me. Sorry. But I'm withdrawing." Kaida gasped and she moved around everyone to rest her hand on his arm.

"Mashi.. What are you doing?"

"Ojiro, no way!"

"But this is a rare chance for you to get scouted." Midoriya and Iida chimed in, turning around to face the boy.

"It just wouldn't be right. I barely remember anything from the cavalry battle until the very end of it. I... think it was that guy's Quirk." The maroonette frowned, turning her eyes just a little to the left of them. Shinso. He just turned away. "I know this is a great opportunity. I wish I could take advantage of it, but my conscience won't let me." Midoriya told him to think about, making the tail boy a little defensive, Kaida dropping her hand from his arm. "Everyone gave their all in round two, but I was just someone's puppet. No way. I don't wanna advance if I don't even know how I got here. It wouldn't be fair."

"You're making way too much of this! Just kill it in the finals and prove you should be here." Hagakure's pom poms fluttered about as she waved her arms, Mina joining in to comfort him, but it was all in vain.

"That's not it. I'm talking about my pride here. I refuse to give that up. Also, why are all the girls, except Hiyama, dressed like cheerleaders?" The girls all groaned, asking themselves why he had to throw that in. Kaida looked up in time to see the other boy, that was on the team with her, withdrawing as well.

"This sort of talk is incredibly naive, my boys. That turns me on!" Hiyama shuddered a little. She got that Midnight was an R-rated hero.. but this was a high school game.. "Shoda! Ojiro! You're withdrawn!" Taking a deep breath, she smiled at Mashirao, nodding.

"I'm sorry it came to this. I'll fight for you then. You deserve some wins." He looked down at her, a thankful smile taking over his features as he nodded back.

"Thanks, Hiyama. It means a lot."

"Now, let's see... We'll have to move up two students from the fifth-place cavalry team so we have enough contestants." The 1-B team of girls decided against filling in, since they were frozen the entire time, rather giving the spots over to another team. "And so, Tetsutetsu and Shiozaki have advanced to the finals! Take a look at the bracket, my dears. These are your opponents!" Kaida gasped and looked over to the pinkette who was grinning away at her.

"I can't wait to melt your butt!" She yelled at the maroonette, making her laugh as she cracked her knuckles with a smirk. Her eyes changed, signaling her Quirk activating which made Bakugo snort.

"If you can even touch me, I'll throw you out of bounds without a problem."

"Look, the battle of the Raccoons." The girls growled and turned to the ash blond.

"What did you say, Sparky?!"

"Don't fucking call me that!"

"Okay! Let's press pause for a momentary interlude! Before the battles begin, it's time for some pulse-pounding side games!" Mic quickly interjected, getting everyone excited. Kaida looked at the girls before sighing, catching their attention.

"Hey Momo?.. Wanna.. Wanna make me one of those uniforms?" The group gasped, Jirou shaking her head quickly while Mina and Hagakure grabbed her hands.

"You would really do that?!"

"Well, it's not fair that all of the girls got humiliated but me. So, let me join in in this madness." Her face was already turning red but she just waved it off. It wasn't fair that they all had to deal with this dumb prank. Momo was quick to make the uniform, quickly handing it over while the girls shoved her to the changing rooms. Oh, she was going to regret this. They called out the first game, Scavenger Hunt, her shaking her head as she changed while catching a glimpse of the scar she had gained from the USJ attack. Normally, her wounds would've healed without one but they were usually just paper cuts and the such.

Kaida took a moment to actually take the look in, twirling a little. She couldn't help but feel... giddy, being able to do something almost considered fun. She left the changing room, after folding her clothes neatly, putting them to the side, and walked out to the girls. Mina turned and jumped happily as she saw the girl. "Oh my god, Kai, you look so pretty!"

That exclamation caught everyone else's attention and she could see some students of the other classes, and even her own class, falter and trip up some. It made her giggle while Hagakure handing over an extra pair of pom poms to her. Ochaco, Mina, Kaida, Hagakure, and Tsu started to cheer their class on. She could see the looks on the students faces, Mina pointing it out and convincing Kaida to do something with her and Hagakure.

"Uh.. are you sure this will encourage them..?" The maroonette's face was turning red from the suggestion, Jirou hearing what they were planning and pulling Kaida aside.

"Don't fall for it, it's super embarrassing!"

"But.. it'll help our classmates keep going, right?" The girl sighed, covering her face.

"You're too nice, Kaida.."

"Kai-Kai! Come on! They're coming this way, let's cheer them on!"

"Ah, okay!" She joined the two girls, pulling the poms in front of her chest and looked at the girls to follow their lead. With a big smile, she danced along with the girls, moving her hips the way Mina taught her as they spun around, kicking up and cheering for 1-A. She could see Uraraka hesitantly join the girls, only because she wanted to help cheer, and Tsu was soon behind. It was a little embarrassing but she saw the looks on Denki and Eijiro's faces. It looked like the encouraging was working! When their little dance came to an end, she looked towards one of the entrances, seeing a certain purple haired boy watching. Making eye contact, she grinned wide and waved. She could see a small smirk come to his face as he turned away. That was a good sign! Maybe they'd be friends yet.

* "We didn't even have to convince Hiyama to wear the uniform, she did it all by herself!" Mineta whispered over to Kaminari, a few of the other males joining in with the staring.

"Yeah, but she knows it was your idea. You're gonna die, dude." Sero interjected. The little boy was nearly crying out of happiness.

"This was so worth it!"

* "What the fuck are you wearing, Red?" The girl in question turned to face the blond coming towards her, his natural scowl on his face. A big smile came to her face.

"Oh, Katsu! Hah, well.. Mineta pranked the other girls, and I felt bad that I was the only one that didn't have to deal with it. So, I thought i would join in." He rolled his eyes and threw something towards her, her quickly catching it and looking at the fabric I her hands. Her gym jacket? "Kat-"

"Just put it on." He said, starting to walk away before stopping. "The pervert and a few others are drooling over you, cover yourself up."

"Are you jealous?" She couldn't stop the words coming out of her mouth, but his reaction made her laugh, his cheeks tinted pink.

"I'm not! Fuckin-! Whatever!" He quickly walked off to the waiting rooms, head down as he grumbled to himself. She watched him leave before her eyes traveled to the jacket in her hands, slipping it on and burying her face in her hands. That was.. oddly sweet of him.

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[yandere-flower]

Can I request a Yandere Bakugo with a s/o darling who is an escort who clearly has depression. She never wanted to be one but had to support her poor family. Bakugo meets her by saving her and perhaps after he becomes a patron to give her a break from the sleezy men. Soon, he buys her all the time. She is flattered and feels safe at first until one day he tells her that her family sold her off to him. They will wed. She’s in shock but she’s scared of going back to that life, so she agrees.

I changed it just slightly, but overall I like this one a lot! Thanks for the prompt and I hope you’re happy with it!

Bakugo x Reader down below

The noise your heels make as they met the pavement became almost like a melody to you. It’s rhythm all to familiar to you after all this time. You can’t remember when the noise stopped being so irksome and instead faded into the background, as some kind warped instrumental playing as you walk back home. While you held yourself tight, happy that your client tonight just wanted to talk about work, you can’t help but be disappointed in yourself. You only kept one man company these past few days, and few clients meant fewer money, and less money meant you couldn’t provide as much this week. You really did try, but not all weeks can be successful ones. You considered yourself pretty good, maybe not the best conversationalist but you could play a role fairly well. But you guess these men pay for time because they want something that feels real, not fake like you. You had some regulars, however it was always the same. Them telling you how they could provide for you, take you away from this wretched world, pamper you. But they didn’t understand, they never did. You weren’t doing this for yourself, you had people that depended on you. These men pretended to be nice, but in reality they wanted to own you, not pay for a family to survive. At the end of the day you were nothing more than a toy to them, they next pretty thing to occupy their time.

Pulled from your thoughts, the beat of your heels were soon joined by the heavy stomping of steel toed boots. Before you could turn, you found yourself tossed to the ground, gravel damaging your pretty skin.

“Hey baby, going home so soon?” sneered the larger thug, his sick grin turning into a cackle as his boys cheered on his pathetic quip.

You didn’t have time for this shit, you just wanted to get this cheap makeup off. “Listen, I’m just on my way home okay don’t get the wrong idea pal”. You held yourself up on you elbow in preparation to pull yourself up, but suddenly you’re swept off your feet and find yourself in the arms of another man, this one decidedly more handsome.

“Hey man, get your own lady we were just havin so-” the skiddish bully started to utter before he found himself at the end of an explosive blast. Not only did it stun him and his friends, but the man who held you still had one arm firmly against your waist, his other extended as the heat of the flames warmed your frigid skin. You recognized him now, he was that Pro-Hero with an attitude problem. The men scattered away, as you clearly weren’t worth fighting a Pro over, and yet after the scene had settled you found yourself stuck in the moment. The hero, Bakugo, you heard him utter during his introduction, still had you fiercely in his grasp. Your confused look must have told him to back off, because before you could ask his hands retreated.

“Listen, you can’t possibly think it’s a good idea to walk out her by yourself? I swear you civilians get stupider each day” he scoffed, but his body already moves to walk alongside yours. The walk is mostly quiet, the occasional grunt or insult by Bakugo, but you can’t help but feel safe. You surprise him you think, when you laugh at the insults he throws around. You’ve walked these streets enough times to know how bad they get, and even if he’s just joking you can’t help but appreciate the honesty. The walk feels increasingly long, you’ve never quite felt this way about a man before. Normally all the men you’ve been with have wanted you to play the victim role, but even in this case, you didn’t feel like one. His hand would occasionally graze the small of you back, directing you where to turn as if you weren’t the one leading in the first place.

Eventually you reach your street, and you tell him so. You can see the disappointment on his face, and suddenly you find yourself speaking before thinking.

“I don’t have to go home yet you know” you say, almost like a whisper. You didn’t mean to sound so meek, but you don’t know why you offered something so dumb after the man just saved you and was just showing you common courtesy.

You felt foolish, the heat rising in your cheeks as you went to turn away.His fingers however had another idea, as he clasps them around you chin to force you to look at him. He sighs, almost as if he was telling himself to set you straight, to tell you to go home.

“I’m fucking famished, is there anything good around here to eat?” he growled, his fingers falling as you’re left breathless from the loss.

That was the start of his patronage, as he paid for your food and drinks without you even asking. You protested at the time, but Bakugo wasn’t a man you argued with. He just grunted and told you some line about how he was making sure you were okay, that this was just a pick me up meal. But before you knew it, Bakugo came around more and more.

At first it was just the occasional meal or two, soon escalating to drinks. You never ordered anything, Bakugo always chose for you. You had to admit, he knew your tastes well, always something girly and frilly that masked the heavy amount of alcohol hidden in the drink. He’d pretend it was your fault, act disgruntled as he carried you home but you knew what this was. All your clients acted like this, like the boss in your life. You didn’t want to see Bakugo like that but that’s all you knew about men at this point. At least Bakugo was always nice to you, never sharp or curt.

There were warning signs, in hindsight. The way his body tensed up when you talked about your clients. You tried to make jokes, insult them to appease Bakugo but you figured you would stop bringing them up. That was worse somehow. Suddenly the number you gave him to use as a way of meeting up became his go to way for checking up on you. Every night you weren’t with him your phone would blow up with constant questioning.

“Want to go out tonight? Half off drinks come on -B” - 10:23 p.m

“Busy? Busy with what I thought you said you were okay on funds. - B” - 10:40 p.m.

“Seriously I’ll just pay the fee who needs those fucking guys anyway, we’re friends aren’t we? -B” - 10:41 p.m.

“Where are you - B” - 11:55 p.m.

“Why do you even do this job I mean they must be so pathetic to be around - B” -12:42 p.m.

You stopped answering after a bit, the constant buzzing of your phone clearly bothering your host. You didn’t know how to explain it to Bakugo without further pissing him off but he was starting to affect your job. You told yourself that you’ll ignore him for the night, give the client your full attention, and have coffee with Bakugo tomorrow to explain the concept of boundaries. He said it himself, you’re friends, he should understand how important this is for you.

You weren’t expecting him to pick you up from your clients place. You know, the one you never told him you were going to in the first place. You felt frozen in place, standing in fron of his car just waiting for something to happen. Waiting for him to wipe away that fake smile that was plastered on his face, waiting for him to leap out and pull you into him. You’d rather do things your way. You opened the door and got in, never once meeting his eyes and instead just staring straight forward. You could feel the anger radiating off him the longer you chose to ignore him, but you knew what you had to do.

You voice sound watery, your confidence watering. “Look Bakugo, I really appreciate all that you’ve done and I value your friendship but you have to respect that this is what I do for money alright? Don’t you respect me?”

You finally turned to look at him, his face unlike anything you’ve seen. He had that shit eating grin still, but his eyes were wide with something more than just anger, almost as if he was frustrated? You didn’t want to stay anymore, but you recalled the clicking noise when you closed the door behind you and knew you were locked in here with the man.

“Respect? I’m the ONLY one the fucking respects you!” he yelled out, his anger evident in his voice. His words are just as hard as the grip his hand has on your bicep, holding you in place as if you could ever escape him.

“Bakugo plea-” your cry was silenced, as if he didn’t even register your voice.

“Do you think those men fucking respect you? If they respected you they would pay you enough to not fuck around with other guys. If they respected you they would ask you to dress up for them and pretend you were interested in you. If your family fucking respected you then they wouldn’t have sold you just for some meager fucking cash-”

His rant became a blur after that, the world spinning around you. Maybe Bakugo’s grip was just so strong that you were starting to feel weak, but the words he uttered started swirling around your head. Sold? What does he mean sold? Did he mean for the afternoon? Your clients never went through your family, this business was all your own. They had no knowledge of the process, why would Bakugo go through them? Why did he feel like he had to buy your time, you’ve told him so many times you didn’t want that from him. You always found it odd how that seemed to hurt him, but you figured he just wanted to help you out.

The sliding of something cold and metallic on your finger drags you away from yourself, forcing you to face the maniac in front of you.

It was a fucking ring.

“What the hell, Bakugo what is wrong with you, this is a joke right?” you scoff, clearly overwhelmed with the situation

That irritated twitching of his lips began, the one that comes out when things don’t go as he pictured. With on hard squeezing yours and the other still iron locked on your arm, you felt even more trapped than before. This man wasn’t you friend. But you suppose he never wanted to be.

“Can anyone ever really care for you like I can? Isn’t that a husband’s duties, to care for their own?” His voiced was much softer than before, he was clearly trying to back pedal from his outburst. Trying to calm you down. Unsuccessfully you might add.

Even worse, he releases your hand and moves his towards your upper thigh, caressing your bare skin along the way. You mentally curse yourself for wearing such a short skirt today, you thought it would motivate your client to talk longer and pay more. You didn’t notice your breathe until you heard his panting, the car filled with the sounds of gasps and pants, the both of you feeling very differently about the situation at hand.

You try and tighten your thighs, prevent him from going further, but you seemed to have guessed his intention. His rough knuckles push against the plush fat of your thighs and finds your clothed heat, slightly soakes fron the tantalizing touch of his hot finger tips.

“I could take such good care of you” he breathes out, his fingers twisting your panties to push them out of the way of his goal.

You want to protest, but what chance do you have? You turn to look away from him, hoping to discourage him with your discomfort.

It does the opposite.

With the new opening he leans his body forward, digging his nose into you neck and taking a long sniff as he plunges two fingers into your core.

You can’t help but moan, his rugged fingers working you while finds his pleasure in the presence of you scent. The patterned curling of his fingers, the eager pace of entering in and out of you becomes like the rhythm of your heels. Something to get lost in. You let yourself succumb to the pleasure and grind into his hands, his panting become that of a dogs, a little drool escaping down your collarbone. After what feels like an eternity you find yourself edging closer and closer to reality. You know the moment this is over you’ll find yourself trapped once again, but right now you feel safe. Safe as his rapid thrusting of his fingers bring you closer and closer. Before long you tense up around his digits, feeling that warmth rush through your entire body and you soak his hand in your juices. As he retreats and adjusts himself, you pull your legs up and hold them as you try and get your head around things.

Before you can try and fix the situation you feel the car engine start and the radio turn on. You look over a Bakugo, who has one arm resting on your seat and the other with a grip on the steering wheel, soaking it in your cum. He looks calm, almost like that night you first met him, but you can see his excitement through his jeans.

“Let’s go home babe, you’re gonna love it there”

[halfasleepoetry]

I wish you would write a fic where Ben and Joe go on holiday together. As a couple or as friends with feelings for each other.

Because I am unlike any sane person who answer asks normally, here you go, a 4K+ word count answer.

One Year Of Love

Joe and Ben found out early on in their friendship that they like travelling together. They make compatible travel buddies; Joe would do the research and Ben would plan the heck out of the trip down to the details and both of them try as much as they can to get everything to work out according to their plan and following their schedule. So far, they have successfully done so each time, until they decided to go to Morocco. They’ve been to almost all European and American destinations that they had wanted to see together, so they decided that the next downtime they have would be the best time to branch out a little, see new places. They had a few countries in mind, but ultimately chose Morocco for obvious reasons (“Casablanca!” Joe said, being the biggest fan of old, classical films), but after much research, they decided ultimately that they would go to Agadir, because Ben loves seaside towns and beaches.

“Do you know that Agadir’s weather is like LA’s?” Joe asked without looking away from his phone.

“No way,” Ben said after swallowing his food. “We’ve picked the perfect place.”

So when they got to Agadir and realized that the chill seaside town is exactly what it is; laid back and operates on its own concept of time, they met their first stumbling block. Their taxi was late, their room not ready for checking in. But the people smiled and carried on as if there’s nothing inherently wrong with a little tardiness here and there. “People around here are really that chill, huh?” Joe recognized the hint of irritation in Ben’s voice instantly. He’s tired. They both were. So he distracted the blonde by dragging him to the rooftop patio of their hotel, where it is also a lounge cafe during the day and a bar at night. 

“The sunset here is going to be amazing, don’t you think?”

And Joe was right. They spent the evening looking at the amazing view from the rooftop before going along and around the promenade on a rented scooter, Joe at the front and Ben with his arms around Joe’s waist. They returned to their hotel when it’s pretty late, but the seafront never sleeps, it seems. They stayed out because it’s a shame not to do so, the sound of waves in their ears and night sky lit with stars and a silver crescent moon as they sipped wine and talked quietly and share comfortable silences as they tend to do whenever they are alone in each other’s company.

Morocco is both everything and nothing they had expected it to be; it’s breathtaking and different, quaint and modern, quiet and bustling. They explored the kasbah during the day, went through the restored ruins and returned to the promenade on the second evening, this time staying out longer to enjoy the nightlife. They went hiking at the Paradise Valley, taking in the view of square mudbrick houses and almond trees and olive orchards along the way. Joe had fallen in love with Moroccan mint tea, and even Ben, who isn’t a tea drinker, found himself liking its fresh and charming taste. They, or Ben in particular, had quickly forgotten the initial wariness towards the local’s warped sense of time and tendency to be over-friendly and inquisitive towards tourists. Partly because Joe is very good at handling both the situation and Ben in times like this, and partly because Morocco breathes its old magic everywhere and into everyone who sets foot on its soil. It’s impossible not to be lulled into its spell, as if they’ve drifted out of their lives into a completely different existence, especially as they make their way to Ouarzazate. Moroccan’s Little Hollywood. Games of Throne season 3, Lawrence of Arabia, Gladiator and a long list of Hollywood movies were shot there, according to Joe’s research. Joe is driving.

“I feel like--” he started.

“No, don’t say it,” Ben tried stopping him.

“--what, my inner Daenarys is coming out.” Ben groaned and Joe laughed.

When they stopped en route at Taroudant, they walked into the souq. Ben hasn’t stopped taking pictures since morning. He must have taken hundreds of pictures for the last few days, maybe thousands. Joe navigated the way, and they stopped by at a cafe to have mint tea. They--no, Joe--struck a conversation with a couple in their twenties, they’re from France and travelling on a tight budget, so Joe offered them a ride, which they gratefully accepted. They drove on to Taliouine, where they stopped by to try the freshly-made saffron tea, and it’s like no other. Joe bought some saffron stored in dark glass jar for his mom from the local seller before driving on to Ouarzazate, arriving at their riad late in the afternoon. The couple stayed at a budget place nearby, but Joe asked them to join him and Ben for a dip in the riad’s outdoor pool, and dinner later. They talked late into the night before parting ways, and later on as they were lying down on their respective beds in their room, Ben was about to fall asleep when Joe suddenly turned on his stomach and called his name. He told Ben the guy, Louis, told him earlier that he will propose to his girlfriend, Chloe, at the end of their Moroccan trip.

“That’s sweet.” Ben said, yawning.

“Get ready to be invited, if things go well for him.”

“What?”

“I exchanged phone numbers and emails with them.” Ben would have laughed if he wasn’t too sleepy.

“We could have another trip to the French countryside.” 

Ben hummed an affirmative noncommittally.

Joe continued, “You know what’s funny?”

“What?”

“Chloe asked me if we’re together.”

There’s a pause before Ben says, “Oh.”

“Anyway, not the first time.” Joe turned to lie down on his back again. “Good night, honey.”

“Asshole.”

“Sleep tight, don’t let the bed bug bite.”

“Shut up, Joe.”

It’s dark but Ben thought he could see Joe grinning. He turned away to face the wall, closed his eyes, but it took him a long time to finally fall asleep.

The next day Ben let Joe slept in as he got up early to jump into the pool, work himself a little before eating breakfast. He ate quickly. One of the older and friendlier staff that Joe had struck a conversation with the evening before, approached him and asked about Joe in broken English. When Ben told him that he’s still asleep, the staff asked if they could send breakfast upstairs for him and Ben thanked him for the kind gesture, endlessly amused by the fact that no matter where Joe goes, he always manages to get people to spoil him.

“Wake up sleepyhead, we’re exploring the citadel today.”

Joe grunted, nodded and sat up, eyes still closed.

“Still tired?”

Joe nodded. Ben sighed.

“Want to sleep in a little bit more?”

Joe shook his head.

“They’ll send your breakfast upstairs.” When Joe neither moved nor made any sound, Ben called his name. He turned his face to Ben’s direction, eyes still closed. He’s pouting a little.

What a baby, Ben thought, but he kind of like this Joe. At least he’s quiet. “Try to wake yourself up while I got our stuff ready for the day.”

Exploring the citadel turned out to be one of the most fun they had as they endlessly struck poses reminiscent of movies they could recognize were filmed there. There were lots of silly ones, especially the ones with Joe and his ‘inner Daenarys’ coming out. They spent the entire morning there, and as the afternoon got unbearably hot, they returned to the riad to soak themselves in the cool water of the pool. Ben let his body float, buoyed by the gentle swaying of the water as Joe submerged himself completely under. His body was rocked by more pronounced swaying as Joe came up and out of the water.

“I could get used to this.” Ben said.

“The pool?” Joe asked.

“And the palm and olive trees. Cool water, hot afternoon, desert heat. All this.”

They spent the evening relaxing, enjoying dinner with wine before turning in early, they would have to be up by dawn to leave for the Sahara desert. That early in the day, the desert is windy and cold, and Ben made sure Joe is properly layered and covered for the journey, using his experience on location in Dubai, filming in the Arabian desert, to good use. As the day breaks and got hotter they lose the layers, which they would need again later at night. Their Berber travel guides made sure their journey went smoothly. They passed by Draa Valley where there are more kasbahs to be seen, palm groves and a village where pottery-making is the mainstay.

They arrived at the camp where they’re staying for the night as the sun set; it’s set up like nomadic tents fit for ancient royals. There’s clean water, delicious food, more wine and Berber traditional drum beats, conversation with fellow travellers. Joe practiced some of the Berber phrases he learned, much to their guides’ delight. As expected, a little bit of wine was all the encouragement he needed to start joining the Berbers and their tribal desert music, moving in time with the drum beats as Ben watched on with a smile on his face. He’s happy, contented and possibly a little bit in love. 

The wine and the desert night must have gotten to my head, he told himself. 

The bonfire crackled and shone golden-red on Joe. Ben thought the older man looked darkly ethereal, and he’s ready to fall beyond in love with him, ready to go right into the fire. The desert was magic, Joe its sorcerer. And Ben was spellbound.

As the night got deeper and colder they slept under the tent, cozy and warm under their blankets. The bonfire kept on burning. Ben wanted to know if he would still be under the desert's spell when he wakes up tomorrow.

“Ben.” It’s Joe. “Did you drink too much wine last night?” He could hear the tch-tch in his voice, but there were also fingers in his hair, rubbing his scalp, and he almost purred in sheer, unadulterated happiness. Everything is dim, almost dark. “Don’t want to miss the desert sunrise now, do we?” For a moment, he didn’t understand what was happening. And why was his head so heavy and foggy? He was holding on to something warm and soft, an arm and a leg thrown over it almost possessively, and he didn’t want to let go--

--until he realized it’s Joe that he was holding on to.

That jolted him out of sleep right away, and he sat up almost immediately, only to be greeted by a long, numbing pain in his skull. He had to put his head in his hands for a while. Joe sat up too and started massaging his head. He put both hands on Ben’s temples, kneading gently, moving across and around, on the sides of his head, at the back, down to his neck. This feels so good. He didn’t realize he had said it out loud until he heard Joe chuckling. “I should have told you to go light on the wine. They’re local, pretty strong stuff.”

He wanted to tell Joe, no, this doesn’t feel like a hangover at all, but he didn’t want Joe to stop either, so he merely grunted and lied down again, putting his head on Joe’s lap.

He could definitely get used to this.

They got up and moving when one of guides drew the curtain slightly open with his hand, not looking in, just letting them know that they’re ready to go anytime now. Joe replied and thanked him.

The guides brought them a little eastward on camels to see the desert sunrise. The sun came into sight as if it was lighting amber fire that burned across the vastness of the sand and sky all around them. It was magnificent. On Joe’s pale skin, it looked like he was bathed in gold.

Ben continued clicking away on his camera for a while.

When Joe turned to him he was smiling, and Ben found himself smiling too.

“That was bucket-list worthy,” he said, and Ben agreed.

They continued moving until they reached an oasis town, a quiet, rustic place with friendly dwellers, always with mint tea at hand. After looking around the oasis and the buildings, some lived in, some abandoned, they made their way back to Ouarzazate again, through Draa.

It was late afternoon when they were back at the riad; almost evening. Ben missed the clear-water pool and Joe joined him. They had more mint tea, Joe was again chatting away with seemingly everyone over dinner, and Ben was happy to occasionally interject. But mostly he was smiling and laughing. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this relaxed and happy, and each time he looked at Joe talking and charming everyone at the dinner table, the feelings seemed to amplify.

When they went to bed that night it took a long time for Ben to finally fall asleep, but when he did, his sleep was dreamless and uninterrupted. He woke up feeling fresh and rejuvenated, ready to hit the road again. This time they’re driving to Marrakech on the winding road around the High Atlas mountain range. The view was amazing; snow-capped mountains lining their sight, punctuated by small villages clinging to the mountainsides. Joe decided earlier on to take a slightly more challenging route to Telouet through the Ounila Valley, where they were greeted with terraced valleys and orchards, abandoned houses carved deep into the mountains and more kasbahs, still very well preserved, sprawling and magnificent in their ruins. Ben hoped his camera wouldn’t run out of memory anytime soon.

When they arrived in Marrakech they immediately headed to the riad they’re staying in. It’s in a relatively quiet part of the city, which is saying a lot, since Marrakech is densely populated and its spirit is one of an endless open market. It’s also a lot more colourful than the sienna-hued desert areas and brown-grey of the mountainside. Shops filled with goods and trinkets of all kinds and shapes and small cafes lined the street, with people going in and out constantly. The walls are painted bright white or pastel hues, colourful tiles and geometrical shapes as interior decor. Ben immediately started clicking away at his camera the moment they arrived. Once they entered the riad, they were greeted by the indoor pool in the middle of the open courtyard, its edges tiled green, turquoise and white. It’s not as large and deep as the outdoor one in Ouarzazate, it’s more of a dipping pool if anything. Ben snapped a photo, and checked the display screen.

“We’re gonna have to get a new memory card.”

“Let’s get it when we go out to eat later,” Joe said, looking up and around the courtyard. “It’s gonna be hard to leave this place.” He shook his head apologetically.

They head upstairs, walking along the quiet and empty balcony to their room. The entire riad seemed to belong only to them, no other soul in sight, no sound heard from other rooms. Their room is spacious, with a large bed and a lounge chair big enough for an adult to lie down comfortably on. It’s decorated tastefully in that distinctively Moroccan style; the tilework beautiful and intricate and lining the walls and covering the floor, even in the bathroom. They decided to book this room despite the large bed because of the size and the view; the room with two single beds were much smaller too.

Joe let himself fall down on the bed, while Ben drew the curtain to the balcony. The view is of many other adobe buildings, rooftop patios and far beyond it is the High Atlas, still so majestic in its shadow. Ben began stripping down and out of his dusty travelling clothes, grabbing a pair of shorts from his bag and one of the towels provided in the room.

“Heading to the pool already?” Joe asked, sitting up with a groan.

“Yep.” He ran a hand through his hair, there’s fine dust in them. “You coming?”

“Yeah. Will join you in a minute.” Joe got up and grabbed his bag. Ben didn’t want to wait around for him to get undressed and changed so he went ahead and downstairs to the pool.

He got in and submerged himself completely in the water, and his entire body sighed at the cool relief that it’s been given. He likes the complete, bottled up silence underwater. Soon, from under the water, he could see Joe’s feet, making his way to the edge of the pool, sitting down with a small book, and two red apples in his hands. The thin book is a phrasebook he has been carrying around with him. He took one of the apples and bit into it.

Ben came up and out of the water.

“Look what I got,” Joe said, smirking and showing off the red apple in one hand.

“Were they from the room?” Ben asked, not recalling seeing any. Joe gestured to give him an apple, but Ben shook his head.

“No,” Joe answered around a mouthful. He swallowed before continuing. “Got them from a staff as I was coming here. There’s a kitchen apparently, but it’s hidden a little further away from the courtyard. She was carrying groceries and fruits so I helped her.”

“Been sweet-talking again, haven’t you?” Ben shook his head, but he’s smiling.

“Hey, I helped her.” Joe was indignant. “Even asked for another apple for you.”

Ben waded through the water to come closer to Joe. He stopped in front of the redhead and put an arm across his bare lap. Is it him or is Joe’s skin a lot less paler now since they got here? He seemed to have gotten a bit of healthy colour on them. He leaned forward and stole a bite from the apple in Joe’s hand.

"Hey!" Joe laughed before shaking his head disapprovingly.

“I’ll eat mine later,” Ben said, a little cheekily, but clearly liking the apple’s taste and sweetness.

“No way,” Joe protested, chuckling. “They’re both mine now. Thief.”

Ben just smiled, clearly up to something. “Put that down, I’m pulling you in,” he said suddenly, hooking his arm behind and around Joe’s knees.

“What--” Joe let out a surprised yelp as the younger man pulled him into the dipping pool. It wasn’t that the pool was deep or even remotely dangerous; Ben could stand perfectly fine in it and the water goes up just until his chest, but Joe had noticed an undercurrent of irritation and strain in Ben’s mood since they were in Agadir and then in Ouarzazate, but suddenly it seemed to have disappeared completely in Marrakech, replaced by this cheeky playfulness that Joe hadn’t seen for quite some time. Not since the last time they had taken a long trip away together like this, at least.

It took him awhile to realize that the sudden jump had their bodies pressed close together now, Ben’s arms around him and his arm around Ben’s neck, in each other’s attempt to not let the other person fall down into the water earlier. Ben always came up with some childish, playful ideas like this when he’s in the right mood. How immature, Joe thought, but he likes this Ben better anyway.

He told himself that he should pull away from Ben now, suddenly realizing that not only they’re too close, they’re also wet and almost naked. But neither of them seemed to want to move.

“Hey,” Ben said, and Joe thought he could hear his voice shaking a little, “Remember you told me the other day Chloe thought that we’re together?”

Joe looked straight and unwaveringly into Ben’s green eyes. “Yeah.”

“Do you--” he started and paused, swallowing. “Do you really think it’s funny?”

“No.” He didn’t know why it came out of his mouth almost like a whisper. Suddenly it seemed like the pool water he’s standing in had turned warm, or maybe it was Ben’s arms around him, or the heat he could feel pooling at the base of his gut, and now spreading everywhere in his body, to his head, and colouring his cheeks.

On the other hand, Ben looked like he had lost all colour from his face.

“Me neither,” he said. It must have been barely a whisper too, considering how closely they’re standing in each other’s arms right now, but Ben’s voice sounded too loud in his ears, like the sheepskin drum banging and clear voiced singing piercing the silence of the desert. Ben had been unusually quiet the entire first day they were out on the Sahara, and Joe had tried every little, subtle trick he knew to lift the mood of the younger man, to no avail. He ate less than usual, and had been steadily sipping glass after glass of wine, and his eyes--Joe knew Ben’s eyes better than anyone--they’re filled to the brim with things that were threatening to break and spill anyway no matter how much he--or they, for that matter--tried to hide.

“Joe, I--”

It felt like this conversation that they’re struggling to have, with stuttering words and half-whispers, was the only conversation they have been waiting to have since forever. Since they first met and Joe thought Ben hated him, the American actor who’s playing the bass player of a British iconic rock band. Since Joe’s birthday when Ben apologized and kissed him with an apple between their mouths. Since they hate being away and apart from each other’s side. Since they started using endearments in texts, like they don’t really mean it. Since they first snapped a photo of Ben kissing Joe’s cheek and sent it to Gwil, and it became a normal thing for them to do to rile the poor man up. They’re all just a joke, after all. Joe used to think it didn’t matter, the feelings he had for the younger man, until he learned to read Ben’s eyes, and he could see something more in them. But he kept telling himself it was absurd, it was all merely his imagination.

That is until they found themselves standing here, in a dipping pool with the sun shining through the open, unroofed courtyard, arms around each other, him looking straight into Ben’s eyes and the younger man looking like he’s about to stop breathing, stumbling and choking on his own words.

So Joe did the only thing he could think of. He leaned in, as close as possible without actually touching Ben’s lips, closed his eyes, and kissed him.

There was that initial second where they pretended like they were playing it coy, like they were being careful with each other. But Joe took that half step closer to Ben, and the water around buoyed them on, until two steps and a half later, Ben was pressed against the tiled wall of the pool, and Joe was kissing him with one hand under his jaw, his thumb grazing the corner of Ben’s lips, and the other arm slung over his shoulder, around his neck, keeping his close, even as Ben slips both his arms tighter around Joe, very clearly not going to let him go. At least not anytime soon. They pulled apart for a moment, just enough to breathe, before kissing open mouthed again, savouring each other like making up for lost time. There’s a hint of apple sweetness still on their tongues, but other than that they’re just tasting and breathing in each other, so familiar and yet so new. And touching skin. There’s just so much skin. So when Ben’s roaming hands rather deliberately ran along and inside the waistband of Joe’s shorts, causing him to shudder involuntarily and pull away, he moaned a little into Ben’s neck.

“Wait--” he said, lips still on skin.

“Wait what?” Ben sounded a little confused.

“Wait until we get upstairs?” Joe offered.

“Don’t say things like that.” Ben closed his eyes, pressing their foreheads together before kissing Joe again.

“Like what?” Joe said when Ben let go of his lips to start kissing the skin along his jawline instead.

“Like that.” Ben said, catching Joe's upper lip between his lip and teeth.

“Like, let’s get upstairs, get dressed and go out so we can get the memory card for your camera and something to eat?” He was teasing him.

Ben made a sound in his throat that sounded clearly like a protest and kissed Joe again. “No, like, get upstairs so I can kiss you all day long like this.”

And Joe could honestly, really, see no point in arguing with that, so he kissed Ben one more time.

[a-student-out-of-time]

//That's called a Mary Sue. And speaking of that, is there any other character in the Danganronpa canon you considered one aside from Chiaki?

//Hoo boy. That’s a term I think is really misapplied to a lotof situations. I never actually said Chiaki’s a Mary Sue, andthat’s because I don’t think any incarnation of her is one.

//”Mary Sue” is such an overused and yet misunderstood conceptthat people  use. And oftentimes, it gets thrown around becauseit feels like it adds validity to criticism that I feel is franklyunearned. The reason for that is because Sueness isn’t acharacter problem, but symptomatic of a bigger writing problem.

//See, a lot of people think Sues are just unrealisticallyoverpowered, have no serious flaws, every person in the storyloves them no matter what they do, etc. but you can use thosetropes well with some quality writing and apply those to pretty muchany protagonist character from anime or superhero stories, butusually they don’t get called Mary Sues or Gary Stus or whatever.

//No, what really defines Sueness is that they warp the reality ofthe story around them. A character can be at the center of a story,but a Mary Sue warps the story so the entire universe revolvesaround them, whether it’s showing how great they are, how evilthey are, how much their life sucks, etc. That’s fundamentallywhat makes a Mary Sue or Gary Stu what they are: they’re at thecenter of everything and everything has to be about them insome way, shape, or form.

//Supporting casts, villains, side characters, plot, themes, allof it revolves around what the Sue does. All morals are defined aswhat the Sue thinks is right. All situations are resolved because ofwhat the Sue does. It’s all about them. Nothing else matters,nothing else exists.

//Now let’s look at Human Chiaki. She starts off as a quietgamer girl who originally didn’t have friends, but managed to getcloser to her classmates and bring everybody together throughher love of games. She opens up, has a great time with them, andbecomes their de facto leader, and also gets a lot of friendshipscenes with Hajime. All of which become poignantly tragic when shedies and everyone falls into despair.

//That’s it, really. That’s not a Mary Sue, that’s just afairly flat character. And really, you can make the same argumentabout everyone in Class 77: they’re side characters in a storythat should be about them. And even when theytalk about how great she is, not everything revolves around Chiaki.Hell, she’s not even around in a few episodes of despair side andthere’s plenty of moments when nobody talks about her.

//That’s one of the things that bugs me when people complainabout DR3. Hajime didn’t choose to become Izurujust to impress Chiaki, she was a small part of his ever-growinglist of insecurities. She didn’t solve every single issue inClass 77, she didn’t stop Junko, she couldn’t save anyone, andmost critically, she actually did kinda assist ingetting everyone to fall into despair by encouraging themto save Chisa. That lead them right into that trap.

//Human Chiaki isn’t a Mary Sue, she’s a nice girl leader typesadly suffering from a serious case of underdevelopment  Andit’s disappointing that people jump to “mary sue”to explain why, when really the issue is that she wasn’t givenmuch to do along with everyone else. DR3 Despair Sidereally revolves around Chisa, Ryota, and Junko.

//I actually liked Chisa, so I don’t have too many complaintsabout her other than disappointment in how her character arc ended.

//Ryota bugs me because he was created just to be the explanationfor how all this happened and they pour on all this angst and sadnessto make you feel for him when we literally didn’t know him untilthis anime existed. And honestly, if the anime didn’t spend somuch time trying to make us feel bad for him and dropped the stupidbrainwashing, I’d probably be more sympathetic. I at least applaudthem for going with him actually creating the brainwashing anime andit was completely his own fault.

//And that brings me to Junko. She’s really the closest to a Suein this situation, and frankly a lot of DR. It always has to comeback around to her, her schemes, her plans, her boredom, hermanipulation, her pulling the strings in some way, shape, or form.And DR3 really is the worst example of it, where she gets awaywith her plans completely unimpeded. Yet was too lazy to actually doanything, so went with “lol brainwashing.”

//The fact that the DR fandom has “It was really Junko allalong” and that they actually reference that fact in V3 is proofthat this franchise has a serious issue with revolving the situationaround a character that...frankly bores and annoys the hell out ofme.

//Junko just isn’t an interesting enough character in my opinionto hold this status as total and complete mastermind of everything.Not even in SDR2, which I actually really liked. It’shonestly everything that happens around her and because of herthat I find far more interesting. She sets into motion so much coolstuff and it’s really the people motivated to these things by heractions that make DR interesting.

//She’s supposed to be this profoundly intelligent manipulativemastermind, and I applaud Kodaka for not giving her a backstory asan excuse, but let me ask this: do we ever actually see heruse any manipulation techniques? Do we see her successfully turn orconvince anyone on screen? Do we see her successfully playing puppetmaster? Not really.

//The most we get are people saying she did or it happeninglargely off-screen. And what she does on screen in DR3 is just usingsomeone else’s creations and skills to achieve her own goals.Beyond that, most of what we get is her rambling about despair overand over to the point that it stops sounding like a word. Herattempts at manipulation always felt hollow to me, and maybe it’sbecause I’ve heard a ton of villain speeches before, but I wascompletely unphazed by all of her pseudophilosophical ramblings.

//That’s not just a dig at her. Characters that only everwhine about how life is boring, without meaning, imperfect, too hard,or whatever always annoy me. And especially when their logic forwhat they’re doing boils down to petty childishness andself-centered entitlement. I could write an essay about how muchI despise Adachi from Person 4 and completely fail to get why so manypeople love him, but that’d be getting off topic.

//Point is, based on the definition I provided, Junko is far moreof a Mary Sue than Chiaki is and the issues with DR3 go beyondcharacterization and extend more to having too little time towork with everything they have and devoting it to thewrong elements.  DR3 feels like a fist draft that was madeinto a final product.

//And also, that’s not me saying you shouldn’t like Junko. Ifyou like her and think she’s a compelling villain, go for it. Morepower to you. I’m not one to tell you which characters you can andcan’t like, I’m just explaining my opinion.

//I’d also prefer if people stop tossing around “marysue” like it’s a shortcut to criticism without analyzing what itactually means. It’s less of a character problem and more of anoverall writing problem. Your story should not be an eventhorizon bent around the singularity of a single character.

[sam-lives-story]

#SamLives - Chapter 14

“ERROR 429: Too Many Requests...ERROR 508: Loop Detected”

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Also find the latest chapters of this story on [Archive Of Our Own]

“F͡u͍ck̈́i᷇n̾’͓ w͕ȧt̷c͏h͜ i͐t͓ w̿it’ t̮h̨e n͈ȇe͏d͒l̕e,᷀ a᷇ss̍h̉o᷉le͙!”

“Anti.” The single word was said with a level of scolding and warning, a dark undertone to it that would have most people freezing in fear or, at the very least, self preservation. The man behind the voice was chilling in his own way – less of a man and more of a demon, really – with a pristine dark suit and a commanding presence that demanded immediate respect, the shadows and darkness themselves bending to his will with each step he took. So yes, such a tone and presence would beg a rather satisfying reaction from most people it was directed towards.

Antisepticeye wasn’t most people.

The glitch demon snarled and shot a glare across the darkened space toward Darkiplier, teeth bared and sharp in his momentary frustration. His body - his very image - seemed to distort and warp where he sat, and he sucked in a sharp, hissed gasp against the discomfort.

“Behave, will you?” Dark went on, his hands folded neatly behind his back from where he stood watching the scene. “A patient cannot very well be treated if they don’t cooperate with the doctor that is examining them. Can they?”

The doctor in question looked up from where he was examining a vial of green-tinged blood, brow furrowed and expression wary beneath the round head mirror he wore. He glanced between the dangerous pair with a fleeting look of uneasiness, then spun his stool to face his desk again.

It wasn’t his desk, not really. It looked like his desk and it functioned as one, but it hadn’t been here when he had been called into this space. This wasn’t a room. It wasn’t even fully solid.

The Void was where Dark often liked to lurk, a place of almost total darkness and little substance, in which the only light to be found seemed to illuminate from the few people within it.

And the desk. Edward couldn’t forget that.

Dark had called him here, had summoned him, to treat an unstable and glitching Antisepticeye. When Edward had first caught sight of him, the – virus? Ironic, considering he was called Anti -septic – the virus had been doubled over on the ground, his arms clutched tightly around himself and his pixels flickering and distorting at random intervals. Anti had an afterimage trailing after him, each movement being followed by the ghost of itself, and as Edward had watched, Anti’s shoulder had exploded outward in a fantastical light show before pulling itself back together.

It looked painful. It was painful, if Anti’s sharp, hissed gasp of a reaction was anything to go by. And while Edward could safely say he had never treated a patient quite like Anti before, he had been Dark’s doctor for long enough to have some idea of what he was working with.

And then Dark had summoned a perfect replica of Edward’s desk into existence, and the doctor had set to work.

Edward returned his focus to the vial of blood he had been examining. It was, as he had noticed before, tinged with the slightest traces of green - but Anti had informed him it usually looked about that shade. Interesting. But despite Anti’s insistence, the doctor was fairly certain it didn’t usually churn of its own accord, not like this. With expert hands, Edward drew a few drops of the blood into a syringe, preparing a glass slide and slipping it beneath the microscope Dark had summoned for him with practiced ease. He slipped off his glasses and peered through the lense.

What he saw, what he was watching happen, was - irregular, to say the least. Intriguing. Abnormal. Utterly–

“Fascinating.”

“W͒h᷁a̗t̻ t̊h’ f̞u͉c̥k d᷄’ỵo̳ṷ m͙e̺an͖ f̶as̾c–”

“Would you care to elaborate, Dr. Iplier?”

Oh. His back stiffened, his posture turning stiff under the watchful eye of both dark entities. Had he said that aloud? Edward schooled his expression and put his glasses back on. Despite his nerves, he had to admit Dark was quite skilled at getting Anti to shut up. A rare feat.

“Of course.” Edward turned his stool around to better face Anti, whose bitter expression hadn’t waned. He pretended it didn’t bother him. “Your cells - or pixels, or coding, or whathaveyou. It appears to be a cross between biological and technological - but your cells keep shifting. Rearranging. You have the ability to...phase through objects, in a way. Right? Disintegrate into pixels, pass through solid objects...become shadows?”

“Ÿȇa͉h͆…? S̀o᷅ w͉h᷈a᷄t?”

“So–” Edward bit his tongue and thought over how to ask his next question. It was like walking on eggshells, never quite sure which word might make his “patient” crack. “So – if you don’t mind me asking – exactly how much damage did Mr. Brody inflict on you?”

Anti snarled, the still-lingering afterimage flaring a poisonous green, and for a brief moment Edward couldn’t be sure if it was directed at himself, Anti’s discomfort, or the simple mention of Chase Brody’s name.

“Anti.” The glitch didn’t bother looking in Dark’s direction but he fell silent, scowling all the while. “Just answer the question.”

“I’m̮ gu͋e͠s̍si̞n᷈g͒,” Anti drawled with forced civility, “t̶hat̛ i͆t̨’s iͅm͔p̍o͗r̻t̆a͍nͅṫ, o̾r̾ y͞a w̖o̕u̪ld̃n’t͐ be̤ fu̎ckin’ a᷊s̊k͐i͍ng. R̐ig̋ht̜?”

“Right. Yes. Absolutely.”

All three fell silent again.

The tension in the room was palpable, as it had been since this impromptu meeting had begun. Dark circled the space, Edward ever aware of the quiet-but-powerful aura his presence radiated, and Anti sat almost perfectly still. His eyes – dark, piercing, searching Edward’s soul, making a chill of fear run down his spine – bored into Edward’s in a way that made the moment stretch into oblivion.

Perhaps - the darkly humorous part of his brain supplied - Anti is more like a teenager than I first assumed, and this is a show of indignant stubbornness to make me wait for his answer?

But then Anti moved. And, oh, apparently not.

The place Anti had been occupying a mere breath ago was suddenly empty, and instead Edward found his space being thoroughly invaded by a crackling, sparking, distorted glitch of a demon, sharp teeth snarling inches from his face. Edward jolted where he sat. His eyes went wide and he gulped, not daring to move another inch.

“L͖e̩t͏’s̠ m̋a᷅k̼e᷈ o᷆ne th̏i̲ṇģ r᷅i͓g̋h̦t͊ fu᷅c̝k̨ĩn’ c̑l͂eȁr,” Anti hissed. “T͘h̍iͅs̗? N͒oẗ́h̪i᷅n̞g̏ h̐e᷄r̫e̐ l͠ȩa͌v́e̗s̹ tͅh̗i̎s̲ da̭m͖n᷅ r͏o̹o̚m. N̖ot͢h᷅ȉn᷈g̲. N͔o̘th̏in̲’ I sa͇ỷ a̜nd̪ n̡oth̗ỉn̟g̼ ỵou͗ l̓ëa᷇r̈́n͑ a̢b͂o̠uṯ m̎e͌, me̼d̶ic̮a͑ll̦y o̲r̘ ŏtherwi̠s̺e.” The flickering, glitching blade of a knife came into being before Edward’s very eyes and sweat began to bead at his forehead beneath his head mirror. “I᷊’m͒ not̬ yěr̮ p̂rẹći̎o̠us̆ Da̱rk, so̶ I k̡n᷉ow̠ y̞ou ḓõn’t͛ h̪av́e a̋n̎y̔ s̎oṟt̃ o’ loy᷀âl̅ṯy t͛o̠ m̜e̓. B͈ut y͓o͝u’d b̳e̗s̥t re̊m̀e̪m͓bȅȓ t̜h̷ãt͎ if a̜n᷉y̺t̬h̡in̕g̀ y̵o͉u’re̳ a̪b̠o̤u̞t͓ ta͔ l͛e̲ȧrn̊ l᷀e̅ąv̵e͍s̰ th͇isͅ p͐lǎce͍...w᷉ĕl᷈l.” Anti’s grin widened wickedly. “Ẏo̱u͈ wo̧ul̵d͓n͑’t hav̓e͍ t̬ö b͎e̜ a̭ d͈oc̯to͒r̀ t̞o̾ kn̴ôw t̂h̫a͍t fi̵xi̬n͈’ w̼h̫a̹t᷈ I̯'d̮ d͙ǫ t̻o͓ d̅ȯ w̖o̚ǔl̢d͉ň’t be–”

A shudder passed through Anti, his entire body warping and distorting and flickering in and out of view in waves of pixelated light. A pained cry escaped him and he stumbled backwards across the floor. He curled in on himself and clutched at his head, and Edward felt absolutely torn between the urge to try and help somehow and the paralyzing terror that had struck him only seconds before.

“Anti, take a breath.” Dark intervened before Edward had to, purposeful strides carrying him forward to crouch before the panting, whimpering, shivering man on the floor. “Get your breathing under control. I may not be a doctor, but I can guarantee that working yourself up will aggravate the situation further. Take a breath.” A beat. “Doctor?”

“Y-Yes…?”

“You’ll do as he says. Understood? Not a word of this leaves this place. Are we clear?”

“As...a-as crystal, sir.”

“Very good.”

Leaving the pair to their devices, the doctor spun his stool back around to the desk and pretended to examine the blood sample again. He took a moment to collect himself, to recover his professional facade. And it was most definitely a facade, as he hadn’t been truly calm since he had first laid eyes on Anti today. The concept that Dark had brought Anti here to help him in the first place had been an odd turn of events in and of itself, but Edward wasn’t about to question the likes of Darkiplier and Antisepticeye. They could be absolutely terrifying on their own, and with the pair together in the same room...Edward wasn’t about to test his odds.

But if Edward didn’t know better, he would have assumed that Dark almost sounded like...like he cared. Like he legitimately didn’t want Anti to be in pain. But he did know better, clearly. He was no idiot. Darkiplier and Antisepticeye were ever at odds, acquaintances at best and enemies at worst. Friendship and friendliness weren’t even factors on the table. It was foolish to even consider the possibility of–

“Perhaps it would be easier if you saw what occurred for yourself?”

Edward glanced back at Dark, who had summoned a pair of low armchairs for himself and Anti and was perched on the edge of one of them. Anti was still on the floor, still struggling to stabilize his malfunctioning image.

“I…” Edward blinked, then registered what Dark was saying. “Yes, I suppose so. One less step and all that.”

“Very well.”

Edward only had a moment to brace himself for it. This was not the first time his mind had been invaded by Darkiplier, the skill coming to practical use on more than one occasion. But he was never quite ready for the discomfort that always pulsed in the back of his mind when it happened.

No pain. Just - discomfort.

The doctor closed his eyes with barely a wince as the memory came to life in his head, the image of an apartment, lime green strings, the flurry of fighting and some sort of gunfire and – oh. Oh, that was interesting. The frequency of the shots, the level of disintegration Anti had been forced to achieve...yes. That certainly would do it.

By the time he opened his eyes, Anti was panting slightly in the second armchair.

(Whether he had gotten there on his own or been helped by Dark, Edward didn’t dare to ask.)

“W̓ë́ll?” Anti snipped, a lot of his earlier fight gone. He looked weary and worn and his impatient glare gave off an air of an impudent child more than anything else. A slight glistening red had appeared at the scarred cut across the demon’s throat...had he agitated the wound?

“A lot of this is hypothetical, seeing as I don’t have the means or skills to analyze the workings of the digital part of your DNA,” Edward prefaced, plucking a pen and notepad from the inside pocket of his jacket. “But I’d hazard a guess that I’m fairly close to the truth here.”

The doctor spun his stool to face Anti more fully, scribbling down notes as he continued.

“Computer programs require some modicum of time to execute commands. On older computers, the time it takes is obvious. Lagging videos, slow uploads, prolonged periods to save your files. But even for brand new, high-speed computers – which is what I would compare you to, since your reaction times are almost instantaneous – that processing time is still there. It’s just so much faster.”

“Y͆o̮ur̥ p̆oi̫n͓t̫, dip͛sh͉i͢t?”

“Anti. Let him do his job.”

Anti grumbled under his breath but didn’t say much else, sinking in the armchair and leveling an annoyed look at Dark.

“My point,” Edward went on, a small tense smile playing at the corner of his mouth, “is that there are things that can cause even high quality computers to lag and glitch. If you overload their memory, if you try to run too many programs at once that require a high processing power…” He raised his eyebrows pointedly. “…if you try to give it too many commands at once.”

“W̾h͞at̪ a̘r̈́e y͞o̭ŭ s̀a̱y̢i͑n̤g̕?”

The doctor finished his notes and tucked the notebook away so he could meet Anti’s eyes more directly. He leaned forward and propped his elbows on his knees, fingers steepled together before him.

“If a normal computer hit that wall and malfunctioned, it would restart the program or request a shut down so things could start afresh. But that’s where the difference lies. Where a computer is entirely technological, you are also biological. The human body doesn’t just shut down and reboot when a person gets sick. It constantly fights to heal itself. 

“When Chase was shooting at you, he managed to hit you multiple times in quick succession, on more than one occasion. You never got the chance to fully reform. The coding in your body - from what I understand - lets you separate into pixels on impact as a defense mechanism so you don’t sustain serious injury. Then that same coding works to put you back together. When Mr. Brody was firing at you, it led you to separating yourself over and over and over, leading to a loop of disintegration and reparation which - at some point - overloaded the process. Like a computer, your coding hit a sort of...well, a snag. But unlike a computer…”

Edward’s expression turned almost sympathetic behind his glasses.

“…you don’t reboot. Your biological half continued its attempts to fix and fix and fix, despite the coding error...and you haven’t been able to repair that error since. Hence the pain.”

Anti’s annoyed and impatient expression faded and a sort of dawning clarity graced his features. Edward found himself glancing from Anti to Dark and back again. Had he done alright? Had he said the right thing? Was this acceptable?

“F͌u̝c̹kͅ.” Anti dragged a hand through his hair, agitation building behind his eyes. He gripped the arm of the chair tightly with his other hand. “F̆u̙c̪k̓in’ b̽a͙s͍t̓a̓r͗d.”

“I’m...sorry?”

“N͝o̮, n̴o᷄t̤ y͛o͌u, i̮d᷆i̘o͂t,” the demon snapped, rolling his eyes. “Ch͍a̩še͝ B̬r̡o͍dý.”

Edward’s mouth dropped into a little “oh” and he nodded, quietly relieved that he wasn’t the one Anti was pissed at.

“What do you need?” Dark asked, snapping Edward’s attention to him.

“Sorry?”

“To undo the damage. What do you need?”

Oh. Of course. Right.

“I...I need my medical lab,” Edward said, getting straight to the point. “I need to get a closer look at Anti’s DNA and I can’t do that with what I have here.”

“Understood. Anything else?”

The doctor paused, then nodded slowly.

“I need Google’s help.” At Dark’s quirked eyebrow, he elaborated. “I may be a medical professional but this isn’t purely biological. I need a technological expert, and Google is the best man for the job. I-If you don’t mind, of course,” he added quickly, not wanting to seem too forward.

Dark rose from his chair, a crystal-topped cane appearing in his hand as he did so. He didn’t say a word as he straightened his jacket and strode over towards the Doctor’s desk, plucking the vial of green-tinged blood from its surface and raising it up to his eyes to get a better look.

“...very well. I’ll speak with him and see if he’s available to assist you in this. If not, we can find a suitable replacement.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Dark set the churning vial back where he found it and turned back to Anti, approaching the other demon and gesturing for him to stand.

“And Dr. Iplier?”

“Yes sir?”

“Do be quick. I don’t think I have to remind you of the importance of this. Do I?”

Anti’s sharp-toothed grin and inky eyes flashed through his mind. Edward swallowed thickly and he gripped the edge of his (not his) desk tightly.

“N-No sir.”

“Good.”

Then both Anti and Dark were gone.

[A/N] - Thank you for being patient with the long wait! Adult life is kicking my ass, but I finally feel confident in how this chapter turned out to post it publicly. I have the next one started (AKA the discussion between Jack, Mark, Matt, and Robin) but as I'm about to leave for a cruise and with Christmas around the corner, I won't be able to work on it until after the holidays. Hopefully I can gift you a new chapter at the start of the new year!

This chapter was a TON of fun to write! I haven't had many chances to write Dark, and I do enjoy writing Anti so very much. Plus the mood of this chapter, the dynamic between the characters, is so different than what we see between Jack and Mark and the lot. The witty banter, tongue-in-cheek humor, and lighthearted undertones I get to play with in Jack's scenes can't be portrayed in this setting...so I got to stretch my creative legs a bit! ;) I know, canonically, Dr. Iplier doesn't really have a first name besides 'Doctor' so...well. I went with one I've seen floating around the fandom in the past. Hopefully it's fitting. :)

~ Pixie

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[princeescaluswords]

Ever peep how every fandom ~fix it~ reinforces racist media norms? Why else do they latch onto the Hale family so? Or their romanticized Hale pack? And how they can imagine a million ways to link the Stilinskis to them? Or why they must warp canon to justify the racist, patriarchal roles in their work the show refuted? That 98% of fanfic centers on Stiles or Sterek, you can find any kind of AU about Stiles but Scott's tag is full of "Scott is a bad friend"? The racism is plain as day

Teen Wolf doesn’t exist in a vacuum.  It exists within the context of the rest of our culture, and that culture has developed expectations of its entertainment.  If you want to debate me on it, look at all the attempts to define tropes which can be seen as nothing more than codified expectations of storytelling. 

For example, the most popular work in Teen Wolf fan fiction with the literal, indexed “Fix-it” tag is a single chapter work of over ten thousand words, over 400 comments, and over 7600 kudos.  The ending – the ‘fix’ as it were – is Derek and Stiles dispassionately commenting on how Scott, stripped of his pack and his friends (and Deaton, SURPRISE!, being revealed as a mastermind, and of course the True Alpha nonsense isn’t real) will soon lose his alpha status, become reduced to a crazed omega, and will have to be put down.   Derek and Stiles sit there, piously and without the slightest bit of pity, remarking on how just it all is.  You can find it and read it if you want the details, but they are irrelevant to my point.  This is a fix-it, after all, which means that this is the story where the author changed canon to what they wanted to see.  It’s insanely popular.

Think about that.  Think about what they consider the better ending.

(It’s also interesting to note that this story appears on the second full search page when sorted by kudos.  Why?  Because apparently AO3 equates Alive Hale Family and Alive Laura Hale with the indexed “fix-it.”  tag.  Make of that what you will.)

The cultural expectation that the rich white family will triumph, that their tragedies justify anything they attempt to do, and that you can tell the good guys from the bad guys by how they treat the rich, white family is fully ingrained in television audiences.  (If you have any doubt, watch a single season – any season – of The Originals).  

To them, Scott is the Enemy.  He should be the Bad Guy.  To these fans, he seems not to care about the Hale family’s tragedies because to them, caring equals acknowledging that Rich, White Family Pain is more important than anything he wants.  (Scott, by the way, does care about Derek far more than Canon Stiles, but that doesn’t count for these fans because Scott doesn’t prioritize him over say himself or Stiles.)  It doesn’t matter that Scott had nothing to do with Derek losing his pack and his alpha status, they’re going to blame him for that anyway.  They don’t like the friendship that grew up between Scott and Derek, because it’s not based on – like their idealized concept of the Sciles friendship – Scott being Derek’s emotional support servant and making sure that Derek’s needs are always paramount.

They will argue until they are blue in the face that this has nothing to do with race.   They will argue that Derek (and Stiles) deserve help, and they didn’t get what they wanted.  But here’s the clue that it certainly is:   

See how they treat Stiles helping Scott out (even if it includes torturing him with lacrosse balls or lying to Scott repeatedly) or Derek helping Scott out (even if it includes luring him into the woods, breaking into his house, breaking his hand, manipulating him with the “cure,” or stepping on his throat after slashing him).  They will argue that Stiles and Derek went above and beyond to do this, an it doesn’t matter how fucked up their methods were for they meant well and they were trying their best.  Yet the times where Scott helps Stiles or Derek are counted as something Scott was expected to do, at the very least, and they will scream to high heavens if Scott’s methods of helping weren’t done with utmost politeness.  

Remember, these are the same people who thought Scott trying to save Derek from Gerard by poisoning and fooling Gerard, all the while the girl he loved was in danger, was unforgivable, but Derek beating the shit out of him, clawing him up, and stepping on his throat was ‘teaching a hard lesson.’