#we’ve messed with my meds before

[seiwas]

three-part honesty | todoroki shouto

wc: 16.3k

summary: honesty, you've realized, is shouto’s most cunning trait—a quality that's endeared you over the years now rendering you into a stuttering, fumbling mess like never before. 

contains: intended as f!reader but no pronouns used, reader wears heels, a skirt, & a dress, post-canon (divergent), aged-up pro-hero!shouto and assistant!reader, workplace romance, development of feelings, confessions, boss/assistant dynamics, co-workers to lovers (ish), todoroki family dynamics and healing, fluff, slow burn.  

sequel to: two-part something ao3 mirror

a/n: primarily from shouto’s perspective but switching of character pov’s is denoted by ‘( )’. i enjoyed the entire process of writing this fic and hope you do too! 

sponsored by @arcvenes for the @ficsforgaza initiative. please do check it out and support if you can! this is also my submission for the pretty boy summer collab by @andypantsx3.

I. LISTEN CLOSELY

Much to his relief, Shouto’s yearly health check-up turns out just fine. 

His blood work results come back stellar, levels all floating within normal range; some x-rays and scans reveal injuries healing up nicely—that collarbone he’d fractured months ago, especially. Save for a few recommendations on better sleep and stress management, Shouto receives no additional diagnoses for anything particularly concerning. 

Except for this one thing—

“Maybe you have a crush.” Natsuo sinks into the backrest of his chair. A slight ‘squeak’ sounds from its springs as he props one foot up on his knee and clasps his hands over his stomach. 

Shouto thinks it must be some doctor pose; Natsuo’s been doing it more often now that he’s gotten deeper into his medical practice. 

In Shouto’s final year at UA, Natsuo made the decision to fully shift into Pre-Med. The aftermath of the war left a big portion of Musutafu lost and in dire need of a society to believe in. To Natsuo, this felt like a calling; an effort of playing his part to restore faith in a better, functioning system that did not discriminate. Internal medicine felt expansive in that way.

This, of course, also meant that Natsuo was now the (unofficial) assigned private and personal doctor of the Todoroki family—to Shouto, mostly. 

So—

A… Crush?

“How does that happen?” Shouto turns to his brother, head tilted in confusion. His brows furrow slightly. 

This isn’t what he was expecting at all. 

“I mean, you said it in your text,” Natsuo reaches for his phone, clicking it open to scroll. The light from his screen reflects on the gray of his irises; then, he air quotes, “you said: ‘my chest feels weird’, then when I asked if anything happened,” his index finger glides across the screen, swiping through a long block of text uncharacteristic of Shouto’s typical dry responses.

“You detailed the entire scene of–” he pauses for a moment, squinting to find a specific line, “–a santa hat? Being put on you, or something. You didn’t mention who but I figured it was—” 

You, Shouto thinks, at the moment Natsuo says your name. That same two-part thump sounds in his ears. 

You, who’s stayed by his side for the past five, nearly six years. You’ve carved your presence so deeply into his life, it’s become an undercurrent in his speech. He doesn’t even think of having to say your name when he talks about you. 

You, and how he turns over this familiarity with you inside his brain. How everyone knows—

“—who else stays with you in the agency past office hours, anyway?” 

Natsuo raises an eyebrow, knowing. 

“We’ve been working together for a while.” Shouto replies, lips pressed firmly into a small pout. 

If he’s being honest, he’s not sure what compelled him to say something Natsuo already knows. To state the obvious? Or to argue, maybe? To act in denial? To express disbelief? 

He takes a long breath, surveying Natsuo’s clinic. The walls are pristine white, the desk and examination bed the same shade of ashen gray—a conscious choice to keep patients calm; ironic, given the state of his thoughts right now. 

Shouto’s mind is buzzing, and Natsuo watches the muddled confusion in his little brother’s eyes shift and swirl in blue-gray emotion. Then he chuckles, holding onto his arm rests as he stands up from the other side of his desk. 

“It can happen, Shouto.” he plants a palm on his little brother’s head, ruffling red and white the way he would have when they were teens, “It’s been years, right? Feelings can develop over time, that sorta thing, you know?” 

Shouto lets the realization settle in. 

Under the weight of his brother’s hand, he feels like a kid again—right before all the training started; and right before being kept away, excluded from the childhood he could have had with his siblings. 

Shouto feels like a teen again, without the trauma, without the war, being taught things about life and himself, about feelings he never had the time nor capacity to explore.

The two-part thump continues, beating. 

A crush. On you. Huh. 

The rustling of his hair dusts strands of warm, fuzzy feelings over his eyelids. 

This feels… new, he thinks. 

.

.

.

Shouto knows his Mondays. 

He gets to Shouto Agency an hour before everyone else does because he likes the stillness of it right before the day turns busy. The sun is up but only barely, casting a soft glow of blue and orange hues through the floor-to-ceiling windows of his office. 

This habit began years ago, back when the agency functioned on the 7th floor of a commercial building. It was called Flashfreeze then, and even though it had an entire floor of 24 office units, being in a commercial building still meant sharing common areas with other companies and agencies. The morning rush left the elevators flooded in utter chaos daily. 

To Shouto, going in early meant less people and less noise—a quiet bube he could use to prepare himself for the rest of the day.  

A lot has changed since then: the agency’s move into a larger, newly constructed building of its own; staff, interns, and sidekicks quadrupling in numbers; better office spaces, bigger teams, more facilities—a big expansion, essentially. 

Somehow, despite being more settled in the industry, he finds that the days feel even busier than before. 

So, Shouto keeps his Mondays the same: his preference of coming in early carrying itself into this newer, much larger and private office space, and his same habit of brewing himself a cup of tea finding its own spot by the small kitchen nook you helped design during the construction of his office space. 

Everything about his office is optimized for efficiency: the backdoor, where he enters from on most days, opens to an elevator with a matching staircase that both lead straight down to the costume unit, training grounds, and his own parking area; the blinds of his windows automatically draw up and down at set times of the day; and the minimalism of his entire space is carefully considered, with every area plotted for easy navigation. 

It’s sleek and neat, sharp edges and clean lines, straightforward much like he is. Cold, for the most part, save for the corners touched by your warmth.

Pale yellow jars sit on the counter of his kitchen nook, with each one housing sugar, cinnamon, and his stash of tea.  

When he looks more closely around the room, he spots the fresh flowers on his desk—a vase of luscious white chrysanthemums starkly contrasting the dark grays and browns of his interiors; they tell him you must be in already, because even when he manages to come in an hour ahead, you always, without fail, beat him to it 30 minutes too early. 

And also, like always, you enter his office in the same way you do every Monday morning. 

Your heels clack against his stone flooring, marking your arrival. He turns to face you from the kitchen nook, cup of tea in hand as he greets you. 

“Good morning.” 

You jolt, nearly tripping. Your head whips up quickly as you clutch a mass of folders tightly to your chest. 

He takes a sip of his tea, the corners of his lips curling slightly on the edge of his cup. 

“Si–” you clear your throat, correcting yourself as you take a breath. Then you smile warmly, bowing your head slightly, “Shouto, good morning.” 

“You scared me a bit there,” you add with a soft chuckle. 

It’s endearing, he thinks, seeing you caught off guard, so out of your usual composure.

You loosen your grip on the folders, “I just came to place this on your desk,” your finger taps against the plastic, “I didn’t notice you were here already, sorry.” 

“No worries,” he sets down his tea cup, pocketing one hand in his sweatpants, “do you want some tea?” 

“I’m good, thank you,” you shake your head, walking towards his desk to set the folders down, “Just a couple of debriefs for the case last month.” 

He nods, eyes tracking your movement around the room. You pause then turn to him, clicking your pen as you say, “Let me get your schedule so we can do the run-down.” 

Shouto moves to his desk when you leave, settling into the few squeaks and cracks of the leather chair you helped restore using your quirk—the ability to minimally reconstruct organic matter. 

Not even a few minutes pass until you return, a tablet perched on the crook of your elbow with a digital pen in hand. 

This is part of his Monday routine. 

The agenda you follow is the same: a schedule run-down for the coming week, any notable trips or events, report updates, and department updates. Occasionally, PR will have you relay messages they have trouble communicating nicely—most of the time, they involve suggestions for him to ‘smile more’ or ‘answer questions more enthusiastically’. 

You have no problem telling him these things straight up, and he has no issue hearing it directly from you, either. 

For this week, you detail a few meetings scheduled for tomorrow and Wednesday, along with updates on his costume revisions, to be fitted on Wednesday afternoon, and—

“Deku requested a joint patrol on Thursday morning, so I moved your fitting for the gala to that evening instead. Is that okay with you?” you look up from your tablet, the tip of your pen hovering over the screen. 

In this light, you’re bathed in the colors of sunrise. 

(From where you’re standing, Shouto is backlit by the rising sun. His figure is washed over by a faded shadow, but you can see his eyes clearly, bright turquoise and dark gray staring right at you.

You hold your breath; you are well aware of Shouto’s tendencies to stare, but he’s taking much longer to answer you this time. And you don’t know what to do, where to look. Do you wait until—)

Shouto nods, catching himself lingering. 

You mumble an ‘okay’ before tapping on your tablet. 

The rest of your reminders are about upcoming events and deadlines: there’s the company team building happening in a few weeks, and a few reports due today and tomorrow. Fuyumi moved the family lunch to Saturday to make way for his photoshoot on Sunday. 

He watches you from his desk as you speak, your foot tapping in conjunction with each item you relay to him, as if marking every point. It’s a thing you do, something he’s noticed in the years you’ve worked together. 

Shouto knows his Mondays, and he’s always been relaxed during these earlier parts of it. 

But ever since that check-up with Natsuo, he’s been more… conscious about it lately. It seems to be a consistent trend that every time he’s around you, he feels a significant uptick in his heartbeat. 

Except now, when you speak—

“Will you be bringing a plus-one to the gala this year? The committee is confirming how many seats they’ll reserve for you.” 

—his heart feels like it drops, plummeting straight to his stomach. 

He looks at you intently, a slight crease forming between his brows. 

You go to most of these things with him; you always have, ever since. 

So, why are you even asking? 

He thinks about it, deciding what to say next. The thought of you not going with him feels weird. Unusual. 

If you’re unavailable, he supposes he can just go alone. 

But—

“What should I do then?” Shouto shifts in his seat, peering up at his brother. 

Natsuo’s instinctive reaction is to laugh; after all, it’s not often that you see pro-hero Shouto at a loss on troubleshooting. But when he spots pure and genuine uncertainty swirling in heterochromatic gray and blue, he sees his little brother—Shouto at ages 4, 8, and 12, still a little helpless on what to do.

“Do you want to do something about it?” Natsuo asks gently, squeezing Shouto’s shoulders. 

Shouto doesn’t say anything. 

The lack of response tells him all he needs to know. 

“Maybe figure that out first, then just be honest about it when the time comes. Nothing beats saying it plain and simple.” 

—‘just be honest about it’ echoes in his head, Natsuo’s voice morphing into his own.

“Will you not be available?” he manages to ask flatly, masking his worry. 

(You look up from your tablet and his eyes meet yours, an intensity in his gaze that’s only been directed at you a handful of times before.) 

“Oh,” you fluster a little, shifting your weight, “I will be, but I just thought…”

He can hear you hesitate, voice trailing off as if contemplating your next words. His head dips to coax you to go on. 

“...I just thought, maybe you’d want to bring someone from your family?” you give a small smile, half-genuine, half-uncertain. 

You know Shouto’s family; know their stories and know what each of them are like, individually. 

You know how far they’ve come into healing, seeing Touya through multiple cycles of rehab and relapse. You’ve witnessed his mother’s strength first-hand, watching her rebuild their family with the help of Fuyumi. On the weekends when work wouldn’t let up for Shouto, she’d welcome you to join in family lunches too. 

There were days during Natsuo’s medical internship when he’d go to the office at midnight because the hospital was nearby. It was the only free time he and Shouto had at the time, but Natsuo would ask you to join in, the three of you slurping on cup noodles while Natsuo prattled on about the absurdity of some of his coworkers. 

So, Shouto can fully understand your intentions. After all, he thinks you’ve been instrumental to his family’s healing, too. 

But he has his reasons for never bringing Fuyumi—she usually has school the next day, if not volunteer work at an orphanage. Natsuo has gotten increasingly busier with his practice, and Touya—Touya is still in rehab, and though he’s allowed at home three times a week, Shouto’s sure he’d rather spend it doing things other than being in a room full of pro-heroes. 

“It might be nice to bring your mom,” you add on.

And as for that—

“The gala is this Friday?” he leans forward, the tips of his bangs brushing his eyelids. 

You nod.

“She and Touya are going to the gardens,” he recalls, his mother casually mentioning it the last time he visited. 

You look pleasantly surprised, “Oh,” then your small smile returns, “that’s good to hear.” 

(It must mean a lot to Rei, you think. She’s always wanted to make up for lost time.) 

You don’t say anything else, silence filling the conversation as you hold his gaze.

It isn’t uncommon for Shouto to hold stare-offs, with you especially, but this might just be the first time he feels fully conscious about it—wondering what you’re thinking; if you can read his mind and tell what he’s thinking. 

“Do you not want to join me?” he asks, a small pout forming on his face. 

(The softness of his cheeks sink just a little bit, and his eyes lose some of the luster they typically carry in the morning. 

He looks so sad, you wish you just said yes in the first place. 

How do you even respond to this?) 

“No, n-no–” you stutter, inching forward subconsciously, “–it’s nothing like that.” 

You check your tablet, swiping through your calendar. He can see portions of it from where he’s sitting, your Friday definitely freed up and empty. 

He pushes himself up, standing to full-height. His hands dig into the pockets of his sweatpants as he tilts his head to the side. 

“What seems to be the problem then?” 

(In your years of knowing Shouto, you’ve learned that he never intends to sound harsh even though his words may seem like it. But even though you’re aware that he only means to be curious, you still feel a little embarrassed admitting that you didn’t anticipate the possibility of going to the gala with him this Friday. 

You’ve always been prepared; it’s in your job description to be like this. You should have had a back-up dress just in case. You shouldn’t have shown Shouto your hesitation in the first place.

So, you breathe out, voice level and calm. This is your problem to fix, you don’t have to let him know about it. You’ll find a way, like you always do.) 

“There’s no problem. I’ll add my name to the list then.”

Then you smile, but it’s just a touch uneasy, and if there’s one thing you underestimate about Shouto—for just as much as you know him, he’s gotten to know you pretty well too. 

He pauses. The last thing he would want is for you to feel forced to go.

“If you have other plans, I hope you don’t feel obligated to go. I can go alone.”

His brows furrow, crease deepening and heart still sinking. 

(And you can see it, that little pout on his face staying right where it is. 

You’re endeared, touched by his consideration.

“I don’t have other plans,” you grin, brighter and more at ease, “and I don’t feel forced to go either,” you sigh, hiding a small chuckle. 

A pause. 

You mull it over before deciding to admit why you were hesitant in the first place, “I thought you were going to bring your mom, so I wasn’t able to prepare a dress.”)

Shouto’s eyes widen slightly, mouth opening to express his apologies. 

“But–!” you interrupt, “That’s my fault,” you raise your hand, swaying it side-to-side. “So please don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of it.” 

The smile on your face is meant to reassure him, he knows, but he still feels guilty. 

This Friday’s gala is the Annual Midyear Pro-Hero Awards; it’s grand because it’s important, and the dress code is always black-tie—everything typically made custom. 

He tilts his head slightly, thinking, eyes zeroing in on the small calendar propped up on his desk.

“My suit is being made by Bakugo’s parents, correct?” 

You nod, reiterating, “Your final fitting is on Thursday night.”

His gaze flits to you once again. 

(There’s that look in his eyes you’ve become all too familiar with—a glint of mischief accompanying a sort-of ‘Eureka!’ moment that means he’s thought of something.

The pieces click together, realization dawning upon you, but when you open your mouth to refuse—)

“I can ask them to do yours as well.” Shouto beats you to it. 

It wouldn’t be fair for you to scramble for your outfit last minute simply because he assumed you knew you were going. You shouldn’t be more stressed than you already are. 

“Si– Shouto,” you say firmly, “That’s too much.” 

“I’m sure they won’t mind,” he flashes you a small smile. 

(And you hate to admit it, but he’s right.

The Bakugo’s have known you for as long as you’ve been Shouto’s assistant. They’ve consistently designed his suits for big events like the Pro-Hero Awards, and Mitsuki has always extended their services to you too, knowing full well that you are Shouto’s plus-one most of the time. 

She likes to chat with you during suit pick-ups, with Masaru serving you a cup of tea as you wait for minor tweaks and adjustments to Shouto’s outfits. 

“It would be too last minute,” you resist, feeling bad for the hassle this would impose on them.

“Then I can call them later today.” Shouto reaches for his phone, eagerly typing what you assume is a reminder to call Mitsuki some time later, just as he said he would. 

“You–” your voice hesitates, “you don’t have to do that. I can contact their secretary–”

This is part of your job, after all. 

“It will be much faster if I call them directly.” 

And while he does have a point, you still feel bad, inching closer towards his desk, “It’s okay, you shouldn’t have to concern yourself with this–” 

He gives you a look. 

You stop moving. 

Shouto is stubborn, this much you know. When he looks like this, you’re well aware that there’s no point dissuading him from doing something he’s already set his mind to.)

“It’s only right given that I told you last minute.” 

He tells this to you sincerely; it really is the least he can do. 

Besides—

“…be honest…” the words replay in his head.

—he swallows his truth; lets it sink deep into stomach along with that two-part thump in his chest. 

“I only feel comfortable going to these with you, anyway.” 

(Your mind blanks, coming up with nothing else to say but ‘okay’.) 

.

.

.

Cameras flash as Shouto steps down from his van. 

The building ahead of him is colossal, tall pillars and perfect arches made of raw stone and marble—it feels both ancient and otherworldly, fitting to represent Musutafu in this new age. Ahead of him, the staircase stretches on, steps spanning the width of half a block. Down its center cascades a luscious carpet, thick velvet that further lends to the grandeur of the event. 

Standing at the foot of the staircase, Shouto takes a moment to unbutton his suit jacket, revealing his perfectly fitted waistcoat underneath. 

(You know he isn’t doing it on purpose; it’s hardly ever Shouto’s intention to make people swoon, but you’re positive that that one move alone can make anyone melt on sight—you included.) 

Tonight is the Annual Midyear Pro-Hero Awards, a prestigious event where hero rankings, major announcements, and charity biddings take place. 

(It’s not anything new to the both of you, but Shouto skipped out on the past two, and it’s been years since you joined him on the last one he went to. Being here again after so long makes you feel a little out of practice.

After he scales the flight of stairs ahead, Shouto turns back to you, offering his arm for support as you step down from the vehicle. You hesitate, partly because you don’t know whether it’s acceptable behavior for you to take it, and also because you don’t remember if this was something you did the last time you went to one of these with him.

You can’t think straight—not when he looks as seraphic as he does, face half-illuminated by the lights behind him with the shadows hugging the softness of his cheeks. 

Shouto is beautiful, a fact you’ve known long before you ever even started working with him; but you’re reminded of that fact in moments like this, especially. 

“The steps are tall,” he tells you, shaking you out of your thoughts as you glance back at the staircase behind him. You try not to stare, but the strands that frame his forehead shift from his sudden movement; it scatters into a perfect mess—characteristic of how anything out of place always seems to look on him.

You take his offer.)

His forearm is firm against your palm, the thick fabric of his suit jacket providing cushion for your touch. When he bends it towards his chest, your fingers slip towards the crook of his elbow. 

Scarlet red contrasts the building’s stone white structures, the carpet providing a center stage for all heroes and public figures to parade their outfits. If not for the photographers yelling, “Shouto, right!” and “Shouto, left!”, he would have gone straight inside, barely pausing on the landings between each flight of stairs. 

You stand to the side when he takes them, just as you always do. But between each flash that goes off, Shouto thinks about whether you should join him too; after all, Mitsuki did intend for the dark navy of your dress to match the stone gray of his three-piece suit. 

When you finally arrive at the lobby of the city hall, the two of you are welcomed into a receiving area adorned with crystal chandeliers. The lights bounce off the sharp white edges of the building’s neoclassical interiors, the carpet’s scarlet red returning as a recurring motif in the form of drapes cascading from the high ceilings and down the sides of the room.

By this time, Shouto’s relaxed a bit more, his hand slipping loosely into his front pocket. 

(You don’t realize you’re still holding onto him until you’re midway across the floor.) 

“Hey, you guys!” Kirishima waves over, squeezing himself within a narrow space between the backs of who look like one of the executives of the hero commission and last year’s awarded peace ambassador. 

(You don’t know how he could have possibly fit, the width of him wider than any pro-hero you know, but you chuckle at his timid mumbles of “sorry, excuse me, just passing through.” It reminds you of how he typically approaches you when he asks for favors regarding joint patrols and assignments with Shouto.

He greets you both with his trademark hug, a bone-crushing grip that leaves you a little winded.) 

“I didn’t know the two of you were coming!” 

“It was a last minute decision,” Shouto smiles, small and fond. 

(You look at Shouto intently from beside Kirishima, as if processing what he means. And when his eyes meet yours, you feel caught, shy, averting your gaze quickly.)

Kirishima clears his throat, no doubt noticing the interaction but choosing to focus on something else instead—Shouto’s outfit, a dark navy tie tucked underneath a fitted gray waistcoat; the white collar of his button down peeking through the all stone-gray ensemble. His hair is styled down, bangs curled inwards to form commas that frame his forehead.  

“Looking good, man.” the red head deflects, joining his index finger and thumb to form an ‘O-K’ sign as he nods at Shouto. Then he turns to you, the same genuine smile on his face as he says, “That color really suits you.” 

You smile sheepishly, mumbling, “Thanks.” 

(Kirishima is a sweetheart; you can never doubt that his intentions are pure. But the attention makes you feel a little self-conscious, even more now that—) 

Shouto looks at you then, again, too.

It’s the only time he’s managed to get a real good look at you if he’s being honest; from the incident in the car to the flashing lights up the staircase, there haven’t been many opportunities to fully see what you’re wearing. 

And—

Kirishima’s right. 

The color really does suit you, but so does the design of your dress—a simple cowl neck joining into halter straps; it dips low at the back, this detail of it, he knows. He’s been careful not to touch you there the entire time so far. It doesn’t help that your hair is tied into a low bun, accentuating the vacant space with how the dress hugs you beautifully in all the right places. 

The dark navy satin was a good choice, the perfect vessel for catching ripples of light. 

It’s simple but classic; understated, just like the accessories you’ve chosen are. And it brings out the one thing he thinks carries this look the most—

You. 

He tries to form the words in his head, urging himself to speak up—he wants to give you a compliment of his own. 

But—

“Bakubro!” Kirishima waves overhead, much like he did earlier. 

—maybe he can try again next time. 

You and Kirishima don’t stay long after Bakugo arrives, Ashido coming in to whisk you and the redhead away to the main room. She loops her arm around yours and pulls you towards her, prompting you to give one last glance at Shouto as an expression of your apologies. 

The corner of his lips curl only the slightest bit. 

Bakugo watches. 

“Don’t forget the drinks, Blasty!” Ashido calls over her shoulder, green silk flowing behind her. 

He tuts, grumbling as he heads towards the reception bar, leaving Shouto in the middle of the receiving area, unsure of where to follow. 

“Y’coming or what?” 

Shouto lingers for a few seconds, watching your back disappear into the hall before he decides to walk after Bakugo.  

The lobby begins to quiet down as people flood into the main event area, a large hall adorned with the same scarlet red drapes and crystal chandeliers. The table arrangements have been pre-selected and arranged, you and the others most likely finding your seats inside. 

“Old hag told me you’re dating.” 

Bakugo speaks, his back still turned to Shouto. 

The bar in front of them offers a generous selection of drinks, all ranging from different wines to cocktails and liquor shots. It isn’t a surprise that Bakugo knows all of his friends’ chosen drinks, down to each specificity—it’s how he shows that he cares. Shouto’s come to learn that over the years. 

Their friendship has settled into its own dynamic as Bakugo’s mellowed down. Shouto will ask a question here and there, and Bakugo will look at him like he’s the dumbest fuck on the planet, but still answer anyway. 

It works, as evidenced by right now. 

Shouto stops right beside Bakugo, leaning against the countertop as he hums, confused, “Who?” 

Bakugo sighs, sliding Shouto his gin and tonic, “Mom.” Then he rolls his eyes, gesturing towards the door of the main room, “She told me you two are finally dating.”

Shouto pauses mid-sip. 

When he recalls the conversation he had with Mitsuki, it went a lot more like:

“Can a dress be made for my assistant as well?” he speaks into the line, “I will be bringing them to the gala.” 

He doesn’t think he insinuated anything. 

But now that he replays it in his head, it’s no wonder Mitsuki’s enthusiastic reply sounded so eager. 

Bakugo snorts, smirking as if his suspicion was just proven right, “Knew that lady was hearin’ shit.” 

The bartender serves up another drink, Ashido’s raspberry daiquiri being placed right in front of the blond before he moves on to mix another one. Clacking ice fills in the silence, the drink coming together inside the shaker. 

Shouto stares at his drink and watches as little bubbles form on the slice of lime submerged in it. 

“Are you at least thinkin’ about it?” the blond faces Shouto, leaning his forearm against the counter. 

Shouto furrows his brows, a single thought running through his mind.

“How did you know?” 

Bakugo stares, deep vermillion as he speaks, deadpan, “You can’t be serious.” 

Shouto stares right back. 

Another drink is served, Kaminari’s mixed drink of vodka, lime, and lemonade.

The stare-off persists for a few seconds, a series of blinks emphasizing Shouto’s cluelessness to the whole ordeal. Because—why does it feel like everyone knows? Did he mention it without knowing? Or is it really just that obvious?

Bakugo sighs, mentally facepalming as he turns back to watch the bartender shake another drink, “Whatever. S’none of my business.” He leans onto the counter, elbows resting on the steeltop. 

Shouto isn’t sure what else to say. He knows that Bakugo is observant, that his friend has always had a keen sense of awareness for the things going on around him; it just never crossed his mind that that would include his interactions with you.

The blond slides over Ashido’s drink, prompting Shouto to hold the flute of the glass between his fingers, “Just don’t be a fuckin’ dumbass about it. Gotta be dense as hell if you think the way you’re treated is part of the job description.”

The bartender serves up the final drink: Sero’s whiskey on the rocks. Bakugo takes it along with Kaminari’s and starts walking back to the main room, Shouto following right behind him. 

He thinks about it. 

A thump. 

Because right before they both enter the hall, Shouto spots you, further back at the right side of the room as you laugh at something Yaoyorozu must have said. 

He blinks, wondering if the soft glow around you is from the haziness of his eyes. 

“If y’don’t do shit first, some other loser will,” Bakugo mumbles, just within ear-shot before he walks ahead to where Kirishima and the others are seated. 

Shouto makes a mental note to drop off Ashido’s drink before heading over to you. 

.

.

.

You and Shouto leave the gala early.

A message from the police station came in the middle of the event: a request to bump up a few reports for submission tomorrow.

You’d mentioned to Shouto that he could stay, especially since he’d be needed to accept awards that you were sure he’d be the recipient of—among them being one of the top performing agencies of the year, a big chunk of it based on the high turnover rate of timely reports. But he insisted that someone else could represent him instead; he’s certain Midoriya wouldn’t mind. 

If you were going back to the agency to work, so was he. 

The night shift at the agency is minimally staffed, with most sidekicks and pro-heroes out on patrol. Regular employees have clocked out by this time, and it seems that the only ones left in the building are the emergency unit and the two of you. 

You’ve split the work between you two: Shouto tasked to fill in the second pages, where the scene-by-scene breakdown and additional comments can be found, and you, in charge of summarizing those details along with all basic information onto the first pages. 

It feels nostalgic, watching you flip through the papers laid out on the coffee table of his lounging area at a quarter past midnight. Back then, he had just hired you, and the only other employees in the agency were his gear tech and PR manager. There was no way the volume of workload could be managed without spending late nights organizing investigations and reports on the floor of that rented studio unit. 

Now, you sit by the coffee table in his lounging area, one you helped decorate. The books atop it have been pushed to the side to give you ample workspace, but even those remind him of how much consideration you’ve put into helping him build his space. 

Bakugo’s words linger when he thinks about it—how the books you’ve chosen remind him of his family. There’s one on the language of flowers that his mother would love, and a cookbook that he’s sure Fuyumi’s used (some corners are folded, with her handwriting scrawled on every other page). On another stack lie a few comic books he remembers Touya and Natsuo reading when they were younger (that he’s pretty sure he’s seen them flip through during their visits to his office over the years).  

And along with all the books sits a family photo taken years ago, framed and taken by you during one of their annual trips to their family beach house a few hours away from the city. 

It begins to sink in. 

A thump.

He folds the sleeves of his button down to his elbows, his gray suit jacket long since draped over the back of his leather chair. You’ve changed out of your heels too, opting instead for the soft slippers you keep under your desk. 

It’s cute, he thinks, the formality of your entire get-up toned down by a pair of fluffy yellow slippers. 

When he glances at you again, he finds you hunched over yourself on the sofa of his lounging area, an arm wrapped around yourself as if to contain whatever warmth you have left. 

He furrows his brows. 

“Are you cold?” his voice booms through the stillness of his office, jostling you out of focus. You whip your head up to look at him, shaking it immediately as if on autopilot. 

(He pouts, then, a small downturn of his lips that you find adorable, more than anything.) 

“I’m okay,” you smile, but he can see the slight twitching of your lip; the goosebumps dotting down your trembling arms. 

You always seem to be doing things like this with him. 

He pushes himself away from his desk, the wheels of his chair rolling against the stone floor. 

You never express your discomfort in any situation you’re put in, and you diligently work and endure all conditions to get the job done. He always extends his help, but you often decline, and—

“You have to be dense as hell if you think the way you’re treated is part of the job description.”

—Shouto is beginning to realize that the way you treat him really is so much more than that. 

You’ve laid the groundwork of the operations in his agency and you always smooth talk your way to getting him out of schedules he mistakenly forgets to show up to (typically with good reason, though). You cover all the areas he misses—this entire building would not be how it looks and functions without your help overseeing its construction. 

You’re organized and driven, eager and compassionate, and you care, above all else. 

The flowers you leave on his desk are never needed, but you always insist on them to keep his space alive. You fix all his clumsy papercuts, even though he never asks you to; he’s dealt with much, much worse, yet it’s only a split-second after you spot it that the tingling of your quirk works its way to mend his split skin. 

It’s just like what happened in the car earlier tonight, a few minutes away from reaching the city hall. Shouto had accidentally cut himself with the invitation to the gala, and though he insisted that it was okay, it was right on his eyelid—a miracle it even missed his eyeball in the first place, you’d commented. 

You managed to convince him then, saying, “It’s going to sting every time you blink.” —which was true; it did sting every time he blinked. 

That care extends to the people in his life too. His mom loves to go to the weekend market with you, and Fuyumi can always count on you to help her cook when she needs an extra hand. You keep up with Natsuo’s jokes and Touya talks to you, long enough conversations that allow him to be himself. 

You care, and you insist upon your care especially when you know he needs it but would never ask for it. 

It’s only fair, then, that it’s time he does the same for you. 

He removes the suit jacket draped over the back of his chair, the movement drawing your attention. 

(Your eyes widen as he approaches you. You feel shy, a little flustered as you raise your hands up to reassure him that you don’t need it.) 

“Your arms are shivering.” he points out, holding up the thick fabric. 

You crane your neck up to look at him, just a few steps away from reach. 

(You can’t deny the facts.)

From above, he only sees skin—the plunging dip of your exposed back, the small hairs standing along your arms. He tries his best to look into your eyes only, but—

“At least let me place this over you.” 

(And you know you can’t deny Shouto, either.) 

—when you concede and let him, he steps closer and bends just a little bit, his full height too tall to be able to place it on you properly. His arms circle around you, carefully resting the thick wool around your neck and onto your shoulders. 

He bends lower to adjust the sleeves, making sure that your arms are fully covered. You’re so still, and so close, the tips of his ears nearly touching the highest points of your cheeks. 

(It’s just like the gala—)

It’s just like the car—

(—with Shouto helping you navigate through the crowd of people exiting the event as early as you both did. His presence was a steady heat against your back, near and warm but barely touching.)

—with your face almost nose-to-nose with his; apart from the gentle touch of your fingertip against his eyelid, Shouto can only remember feeling that, along with the traitorous thump of his heartbeat. 

It’s a good thing that he had his eyes closed then; he wouldn’t have known how to react at the proximity. 

But now, he can see you so clearly, your low bun kept in place by bobby pins the same color of your hair; there’s glitter on the inner corners of your eyes, some of it falling to dot the corners of your nose. 

This has to be more than just a crush if he’s feeling this intensely.  

Your eyes meet for a brief moment, then it’s two blinks before you look away, clearing your throat as you glance at him again, a little bashful, “Thank you.” 

Shouto nods, taking one step back. 

“The estate we booked for the company outing offered to host a visit for you next weekend.” you speak before he fully returns to his seat, shifting in your seat, “I checked your schedule and there’s nothing set for that day yet.” His suit jacket dwarfs you, the deep navy silk becoming an accent the further you sink into it, “Maybe you’d like to go with your mom?”

You suggest it to him again. Because you know and you care. 

He taps his foot, looking out into the city, “That would be nice.” Then he turns back to you, strands of his bangs falling to dust his forehead as he puts his hands inside his pockets, “You’ll be coming too, then?” 

(There are things you don’t allow your heart to feel in moments like this—hope being one of them. Shouto looks dangerously attractive in a suit, and it’s been difficult to keep your feelings at bay the entire night. He speaks honestly, rarely with double meaning, so when he speaks to you like this, you try not to think too much of it. 

“Yes,” you agree, thinking that he must want you to scope out the venue for the company outing activities, “is there anything in particular that you want me to check out for the team building?”)

Shouto tilts his head. 

“Not for work,” he clarifies, staring straight into your eyes. “Just to spend the day with us.” 

He expects your reaction already, your eyes widening and your hands raising to wave off a ‘there’s no need.’ But, he finds that there’s no reason for you to be shy, already beating you to the final say.

“Mom would want you there,” he mentions, because it’s true. She’d look for you. 

And if he’s being completely honest with himself, with how he’s been feeling around you lately—he would too. 

II. IF I SPEAK

The Todoroki family home comes alive on the weekends. 

Since Touya’s return, his mom has moved into a smaller, more modern place to stay. The walls of its exteriors are painted a warm off-white, its features complemented by light wood and bluish-gray accents. At the back exists a garden large enough for a few small trees and her growing flower collection—a complete flip from their larger and darker old home. 

The tall windows stream sunlight into the living space, each corner of the house doused in its comfort. Opting for a smaller home was a conscious choice—everything would be within reach, and so would the people in it. 

On the days that Touya is allowed to stay home from rehab, he lives here, sometimes with Fuyumi, but always with Rei. 

“Food is ready!” Fuyumi calls from the kitchen, prompting Touya and Natsuo to look over from the couch. Shouto is just about to finish setting the table when Rei brings out a piping hot pot of soup, Fuyumi in tow with a whole plate of tonkotsu. 

Natsuo heads inside the kitchen for anything else that might need carrying, and Touya opens the fridge to take out the iced tea he helped make last night.

It’s taken some time to get here—with Touya willingly doing anything with his family. Getting used to living with people he thought abandoned him for a decade is hard; learning to become a family has been even harder. 

But Touya has always lived in a special corner of his mother’s heart—never forgotten and always considered. Shouto thinks it’s the same case for all of them; that’s how it’s managed to work. 

Touya takes his seat beside Shouto, pouring himself a glass of iced tea while waiting for the rest of their family. 

“Played any golf lately?” Touya eyes Shouto from the side.  

Shouto shakes his head, staring at his palms; calluses used to line the base of his fingers, “Work at the agency has gotten busy.” 

Taking up golf has been part of Touya’s rehabilitation program for the past few months, a recommendation to aid in improving focus while keeping himself calm. And though there was much resistance at first, Touya’s grown fond enough of the sport to play it on his own; it’s made all the difference, Shouto’s noticed, his brother’s overall disposition a lot less angry—

“Looks like I’m going to beat your ass next week,” Touya smirks, cracking his wrists. 

—but still equally as snarky.

Shouto doesn’t normally care about competition; the only person he really has to beat is himself. But he and Touya are alike in many ways, with eyes as sharp as their father’s but their faces holding the same innocence as their mother’s. They are both lit up by fires—one forced to blaze and the other forced to dim. There is a bluntness Shouto shares with Touya that no one else in the family can argue with.

“Being too confident can jinx it for you on the fairway,” Shouto replies, turning to his brother with his signature blank gaze. 

Natsuo laughs as he settles into his seat beside Touya, watching as his older brother’s smirk quickly dissolves into a frown. 

“Little shit,” Touya mumbles, taking a sip from his drink. 

The corners of Shouto’s lips curl up slightly. 

Rei and Fuyumi join the table last, bringing out a steaming pot of rice and a few side dishes to complement the rest of the meal. 

These family lunches keep them connected. 

Fuyumi believes that no matter how busy they are, having this time to gather together and share details on each other’s lives is important.

“Sorry I can’t join you and these two next weekend, mom,” Natsuo starts, slicing through his tonkotsu as he points an elbow towards his brothers, “The hospital has a medical mission out of town.” 

Rei simply smiles, waving her hand, “No need to apologize. I’m so proud of you, Natsuo.” 

“Will you be free, Fuyumi?” she turns next to her, placing a hand on Fuyumi’s lap. 

Fuyumi swallows her food, smiling apologetically, “Sorry, mom, the school’s hosting a kiddie pool party for the first day of summer.”  

Rei pats her lap reassuringly, smiling again as she says, “It’s no problem, I’m glad the kids are having fun under your care.” 

“It’ll just be the three of us, then.” Rei looks at her two boys across from her—her eldest and her youngest. 

Touya blows at his bowl, puffs of steam dissipating into the air. For as hot as Touya’s flames can get, he dislikes anything too hot to eat—a preference of his that Rei’s taken note of as she reaches across the table to cool down his bowl ever so slightly. 

“Thanks,” Touya mumbles, still hesitant to call her ‘mom’ when it’s face-to-face. 

“I heard the estate has a greenhouse,” Shouto mentions, Rei instantly perking up at the information, “You can take a look at the plants there, mom.” 

“That sounds lovely, Shouto,” she smiles; this time, it reaches her eyes, “We can take photos in your handsome outfits too.” 

Touya scrunches his nose as Shouto nods. As per the invitation, the estate prepared a whole day’s worth of activities—a game of golf in the morning, brunch by the gardens, and a simple wine tasting to cap off the afternoon. 

Lunch continues with Fuyumi sharing more about the kids she’s handling this year, and Natsuo retelling interactions of the most obnoxious patients he’s had yet. 

They laugh, a little more like a family—Shouto chuckling as Touya gives a snarky comment or two. Fuyumi laughs, full-bodied, and Rei giggles, softly, her hand coming up to cover her mouth. 

“How are your flowers, mom?” Shouto asks after they settle down, remembering that you helped her pick out which ones to plant last time. 

“The morning glories are going to be blooming soon,” Rei replies, her smile fond and proud. Since being released from the hospital years ago, she’s taken to planting and flower arranging, oftentimes asking you to help her choose which ones to use. 

“Really?” Fuyumi turns her head, gasping as she catches a glance from the window across the room, “They look good, mom! Can I have some when they bloom?” 

Rei nods, turning to her youngest, “You can get some too, Shouto.” 

For you, she adds.

Natsuo eyes him from the side as he freezes, Rei suggesting some more, “You can place it in a vase. It’s not fair, you always receive flowers for your desk.” 

Shouto nods, a small ‘okay’ because he doesn’t really know how else to respond without giving his feelings away. 

Touya observes Shouto’s expressions, his eyes twinkling in sinister aquamarine.

“Speaking of,” he shifts in his seat, crossing his legs to face Shouto, “s’your hot assistant coming?” 

Something twists in Shouto’s face, his brows furrowing slightly. 

Touya knows just how to get on Shouto’s nerves.

(What stares back at him is a deadly shade of gray and blue. 

Touya does this pretty often: provoking just for fun. 

Shouto stares at almost everyone he interacts with; it’s unnerving and uncomfortable for people who aren’t used to it, but Touya’s noticed that his little brother stares at you for far longer than he needs to. 

And though he’s missed a big chunk of how Shouto grew up, he likes to think he reads him pretty well now—how he acts around you, especially.

At his core, Shouto believes in carving his own path, choosing to fix wrongs and better himself for the now. Touya knows these things, knows where a person is weakest, just like he’s been taught—just like he’s been made aware of his entire life. Yet, for how independent Shouto’s become, he still chooses to lean on you; turns to you for thoughts and opinions,  considering you in everything. 

Touya has met you a few times; the whole family has. During the worst of his relapse, you were the only person apart from family who was trusted to accompany him in and out of rehab. You picked him up and dropped him off, often joining Rei and Fuyumi on visits when Shouto would be too busy. 

To him, you’re an extension of Shouto at this point—an olive branch that’s been just as instrumental in healing this family and the people in it. 

It’s never in the big things, but those few minutes of small talk you attempt with him in the car ride home help loosen his tongue, training a muscle that with time, has helped him open up more. 

Touya doesn���t care much for people; he’s still just beginning to learn to love his family again, but he thinks you fit in well, because you and Natsuo have the same god-awful humor, and Fuyumi only trusts you to help out in the kitchen. His mom likes having you around, and you never stick your neck in too deep in other people’s shit when they aren’t ready for it—especially his. You never nag Shouto, but you stand firm on the things you disagree with, because as far as Touya can see, you care, far deeper than your job requires you to. 

In all ways, you are the stability and calm authenticity that Shouto needs after growing up in such a tumultuous family.

So, Touya likes to stir the pot a little. Or a lot. Maybe.

Just for fun.)

Shouto continues to stare, his frown deepening. His jaw clenches, tension throbbing in his temples.

“Don’t say it like that,” he mutters, low and firm.

He feels like a kid again; like this would be a conversation they’d be having if things were normal and Touya had been around when Shouto turned 15, teasing him about a crush he might have, like older brothers do. 

Natsuo and Fuyumi have always felt like his protectors, siblings forced to be parents by circumstance; but Touya feels like his brother, the one he can fight and steal food from; the one who holds a toy up above head where Shouto can’t reach—even though he’s much, much taller than his older brother now. 

Touya scoffs, smirking, “Just saying what you think, little brother.”

.

.

.

All Shouto hears is a thump. 

A succession of them, in a steady three-part beat. 

The golf ball in front of him sits on an even plot of vibrant green, its dents and grooves emphasized by the sunlight of the early morning—there’s pressure, a thump; he needs to beat Touya in this hole to tie overall. Another thump; you’re watching him play. 

He analyzes all conditions, feels the heat on his back seep through the fabric of his white golf shirt. He breathes in and prepares to swing. 

Today is the visit to the estate. 

The agenda starts with an early game of golf, followed by brunch at the gardens and wine tasting in the early to late afternoon. It’s a beautiful day, and Shouto should be focusing on winning this game, but it’s distracting when you’re all he’s really thought about since the start of this round. 

—you, in your perfectly fitted white golf shirt and its complementary skirt; you, sitting with his mom at the back of the golf cart, smiling and laughing as if you aren’t the slightest bit aware of how much you brighten a space when you look like that. You, with your head whipping right in his direction when you hear the loud ‘swauck!’ that the impact of his club makes with the ball—your eyes excited and hopeful. 

Shouto misses the hole, and Touya snickers from the side. 

The thumbs up you give him is a soothing balm to his miss.

Shouto readjusts his cap as they walk closer to the hole, tucking in the strands of hair clinging to his forehead. He glances back at you and lingers, interrupted only by—

“Pretty thing, your assistant,” Touya teases, nudging his head towards your direction, “Cute skirt and all.” 

“Stop.” Shouto stares, impassive and unamused. His eyebrow twitches before he turns, walking away. 

From afar, he can hear Touya’s chuckle, breathy from the movement of fixing his arm sleeve. Shouto only pays attention to preparing his putter.  

He knows this is just how his older brother is. 

Since the start of this round, Touya’s managed to lead by a few strokes, with Shouto falling behind in every hole. It’s frustrating and annoying, aggravated even more by Touya’s teasing and the fact that Shouto has played the sport for far longer than Touya has.

It doesn’t help that he ends up missing again, with Touya managing to make the put afterwards. 

Shouto sighs, clenching his jaw. 

“You know,” Touya eyes him as they walk to the next hole, “staring’s not gonna get you anywhere.” 

“I’m not staring,” Shouto retorts immediately. The expanse of greenery ahead of him is taunting, an endless plot of land that feels like it’s watching.  

Touya scoffs, “Sure.” 

The golf course in the estate is landscaped with luscious trees, vibrant in the brightness of summer. Flowers bloom along the perimeter, yellows and reds carving out this specific section of the estate. You and his mom follow closely behind, riding the cart at a slow and steady pace. 

Just a few meters down, the little red flag for the next hole comes into view, moving with the breeze. 

“If you don’t plan on acting on it, you should let me know.” Touya mentions it a little too casually. 

Another thump. 

It’s a joke. Obviously. Something only meant to rile him up—it’s how Touya is. 

But it still makes him feel just a tad bit uneasy; it makes him feel a little bit like it did when they were kids. 

Before Touya disappeared, they used to sneak into the garden on winter nights. Shouto must have been no older than five and learning how to manage his quirk properly. 

They used to play a game: The Twigfire Race, Touya called it—a competition on who can form the longest and fastest fire trail using a bunch of twigs. 

Touya would always win, his long legs and lanky arms gathering more sticks than Shouto ever could at that age. His flames burned a deep azure blue, eating through the twigs much faster than Shouto’s flames did. Then, he’d press onto the pads of his burnt fingertips, teasing Shouto in some twisted attempt at motivating his little brother to do better. 

Touya would always win, but not without getting a word in. Not without leaving Shouto with a lesson or two about it. 

“I said, stop.” Shouto warns him, voice stern as he turns slightly to catch his brother's eyes. 

“Damn. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” Touya raises a hand in mock surrender, smirking, “I can just do it without asking you.” 

Shouto stops walking, fists clenched tightly around his golf club. 

“That’s not funny.” 

“Oh, I’m not joking,” Touya taunts, holding back his laugh.

The stare Shouto gives him turns icy, glare intensifying as he inches closer towards his big brother. Touya doesn’t move, the stare-off lasting long enough for you to notice the confrontation. 

From his periphery, Shouto can see you looking at them in confusion. 

“Or am I?” Touya snickers right before he turns away, walking straight towards the next hole. 

Shouto watches him walk away, each thump matching the footsteps his brother makes. To the side, the cart slows to a halt and you get off, standing up as if to gain a better view of what just happened. 

You lock eyes with Shouto and he musters a small smile, raising a hand as if to say ‘everything’s fine.’ 

“Losers lose ‘cause they don’t get shit done, Shouto!” Touya calls from a few steps ahead. 

Shouto stares at his brother’s back; it’s just how Touya used to say when they were kids—

“You just have to go for it!” 

He takes a step. 

.

.

.

Touya wins the round, with Shouto losing by only a few strokes. 

Rei hugs them both, Touya’s slight reluctance evident in the way his arms stay glued to his side as she wraps hers around the both of them. 

Shouto brings one hand up, resting it against her back; from his line of sight, he spots you smiling fondly, giving him another thumbs up when your eyes meet. 

.

.

.

The estate’s staff escorts everyone to their respective rooms, allowing some time to change into clothes more suited for the late morning brunch. 

When Shouto and Touya finish, they make their way to the greenhouse, a glass dome teeming with life. It’s art in bloom—chrysanthemums, hydrangeas, sunflowers, and camellias all in varying colors of pink, red, purple, and yellow. Under a small bridge is a pond, alive with koi fish swimming underneath pads of water lilies, and right up above, where the sunlight streams in, are baskets of japanese roses, hanging in bright, fuschia clusters. 

He walks atop the bridge, hands stuffed inside his linen pants—a pair that matches the linen shirt you gifted him birthdays ago. What surrounds him is beautiful; perhaps the most heavenly place he’s been to. 

A morning of golf under the sun, nature in florescence. A (relatively) peaceful morning. 

And you—

The moment Shouto spots you, the scenery on your backdrop fades into muddled hues. You and Rei enter the greenhouse side-by-side, with his mother wearing an all-white ensemble: a cardigan with a long, flowy skirt. 

And you—

—you walk in wearing a pale yellow sundress, its hem hitting just above your knees. There are dainty flowers dotted all over it, but nothing too loud; the straps sink into a v-neck with bust details, flowing down into an a-line skirt. It’s perfectly understated, only emphasizing the focus on how radiant you look in it. 

He can’t stop staring. 

Touya snorts as he passes him. 

This day, this sight, is going to stay in his memory for a long, long while, he thinks. 

From up ahead, he can hear his mom call for Touya, dragging him around to ask which blooms would look best for the garden at home. And when he snaps out of the daze you’ve put him in, you appear right beside him, asking if he’s okay. 

“Yes,” he answers promptly, unsure of what to say next. His eyes flit to the baskets of japanese roses hanging above you, then to the view peeking from outside. “Do you want to look around before we eat?”

You nod. 

The depth of the greenhouse is deceiving upon first glance, with Touya and Rei now out of sight as you explore the area. You walk close enough to be side-by-side but still stay a step behind like you typically do, pausing every now and then to take pictures of the flowers around you. 

“You seem more relaxed,” he points out, pushing up the sleeves of his button-up. 

You turn to him from the chrysanthemums you’re snapping, a little flustered at his comment. 

(And at him, mostly. You don’t know how anyone can look this good in a simple linen set. Nature favors Todoroki Shouto, and it shows in moments like now, with sunlight hitting his face at just the right angle that it paints stardust on the tips of his eyelashes.) 

“It’s good,” he quickly follows-up, fluffing through his bangs, “I did mention this wasn’t for work.” 

(You feel warm at the reminder.

“It’s nice to see you with some down time too,” you return the sentiment, uncomfortable with the attention on you.

Your fingers fiddle with the hem of your dress.)

“Did something happen earlier?” you put your phone down, continuing to walk. “At the course. Things looked pretty tense.” 

Shouto hums, considers his next words. He takes a few more steps before answering, “Touya is a dick.” 

A laugh escapes you, and you cover your mouth quickly as you mumble an apology. Shouto knows it’s because it’s completely out of character for him to be so vulgar and insulting when it comes to his siblings.

“Was he sabotaging you?” 

“...Something like that.” he responds. 

“That’s okay,” you scrunch your nose, peering up at him, “You haven’t had much time to play lately.” 

And Shouto wonders if he’s just that easy to console, or if it’s a specific comfort that only comes from you. You make it so easy for him to feel better about all the little and big things—whether it’s news articles headlining him as a PR nightmare, or near-losses on missions gone wrong. 

Not a lot of things get to Shouto, but when they do, you somehow always know how to handle it. 

You continue to stroll around the greenhouse, looking closely at the steel bars holding up the glass arches. From a few steps ahead, Shouto can hear your mumbles—something about measurements and the logistics of turning the rooftop of the agency into a smaller version of this greenhouse.  

“You and mom looked like you were enjoying yourselves earlier,” he mentions offhandedly, hands clasped around his back. 

It’s something he’s noticed for a while—his mother seems to relax more around you, laughing and smiling in most of your conversations. He gets it; you have that effect on everyone around you, the warmth you exude a welcome invitation to be opened up to. 

(You eye him from the side knowingly; Todoroki Shouto is nothing but a closet snoop.) 

“We were talking about plant stuff,” you smile, “and how she’s happy you and Touya finally got to play together. You should’ve seen how red her hands were from clapping for the both of you.” 

He chuckles softly, matching your steps in comfortable silence. 

It’s at a different section of the greenhouse that he pauses, giving you time to admire the shrubs of hydrangeas blooming around you.

Touya’s words come back to him. 

He wonders if he should say it, if he should ask—

“Don’t move,” you tell him, raising your phone to eye-level.

Shouto stares at you, hands in his pockets as he watches you tap on your phone.

“Look to the side,” you instruct him again, and he follows, albeit a little confused. 

When he turns to face you again, the smile on your face is beaming, glowing as you turn your phone to show him the photos you managed to take. 

“The lighting was nice. See!” 

And when you point to the way sunlight streaks highlights onto the redness of his hair, down to the slope of his nose and the width of shoulders, he can’t help but agree. 

Now, he wonders—

“Do you want a photo with the flowers?” Shouto asks, because it makes no sense that you deem him worthy to be pictured in perfect lighting when there’s you, looking like you do—the walking subject to the backdrop of greenery behind you. 

Your eyes widen, a stuttered “O-Oh,” falling from your lips. You tug at your skirt again, fiddling with the soft fabric until your eyes nervously meet his. “I don’t really need—”

“The lighting is nice here, too.”

“Oh,” you respond, a hint of diffidence as you flash a small, hesitant smile, “Okay.” 

As Shouto angles himself to take your photo, he notices you turn restless, the smile on your face never quite reaching your eyes and your fingers constantly twirling the fabric of your dress. 

He puts down his phone, tilting his head. 

“Are insects biting you?”

(Your brows shoot up, embarrassed by how he’s noticed. 

You shake your head in response, providing no other explanation besides “Sorry.” 

He continues to stare, as if waiting for you to continue. You know there’s no point hiding the real reason you feel so nervous when he’s already noticed this much.  

“I think I might be underdressed,” you admit, smiling sheepishly as you clasp your fingers in front of you, “This entire place is gorgeous.”

The estate screams high-class; apart from the golf course and the greenhouse, the area also boasts its own private lake glistening across a large green field. It feels a little too good to be true—a paradise you find yourself out of place in. 

But—)

Shouto looks at you, really looks at you—at the way your dress hits right above your knees at the perfect length, at how your collarbones peek through its dainty v-neck cut. Its pale yellow makes you look like summer, radiating in light, and he thinks he hasn’t seen anything more beautiful, really; anything more fitting—for this occasion, for this venue, for this day. 

For you. 

The words have been lodged at his throat since he first saw you step in, and now they’re being pushed out, coaxed slowly by the honesty beating thunderously in his chest. 

He thinks about his mom, how she speaks of beauty whenever and wherever she finds it, with nothing stopping her speech and—

There’s a hum, a thoughtful vibration priming his throat as he continues to stare. 

“I think you’re dressed just right,” is what he manages to get out. 

A thump. 

It’s more than that, though, he knows. 

If this is his chance, if this is ‘next time’ from his attempt at the gala—

He blinks, and you only get prettier. 

“You look beautiful.” he confesses, the sentence overflowing with honesty.

(And when he says your name unlike any way he’s said it before, you feel your chest expand, terrified that it might explode.

Shouto is blunt and honest to a fault; and that honesty, you’ve realized, also happens to be his most cunning trait—a quality that's endeared you over the years now rendering you into a stuttering, fumbling mess like never before. 

“T-Thank you.” you straighten your dress, “You—”)

Shouto’s phone vibrates in his palm, a call from Touya breaking him out of your conversation. He bows his head slightly to excuse himself and you nod in acknowledgment. 

“Brunch is served,” he relays, pocketing his phone soon after he hangs up.

(Then, with his hand inside his pocket, he bends his arm deeper, creating a wider loop as if to offer it for you to hang onto—the same way he did during the gala.

And just like you did then, you take it.)

.

.

.

Brunch was served at the estate’s main patio, a circular table made of light wood adorned with dainty white tableware and muted green linen. In the middle was a centerpiece, an assortment of fresh flowers from the greenhouse coming together for a pop of color against the main neutral color scheme. 

The food was divine, a lovely selection of seasonal salads and warm breads, along with eggs cooked in every way possible. Newly harvested fruits were served before and after the meal, a kind of appetizer-dessert to complement the main piece—a large slab of freshly caught salmon. 

Now, you all gather on the second floor of the estate’s main building, right at the balcony overlooking the greenhouse and the field—a perfect view for wine tasting.

Shouto doesn’t care much for alcohol, all technicalities going past his head as the sommelier explains notes and wine pairings.

He can’t taste much of the difference, if he’s being honest. 

In the sommelier’s hand is a bottle of red wine; he describes all of the technical parts of it before finishing off with the fact that it’s ‘beautifully balanced’, something that causes Touya to snort at the side. 

Shouto looks, raising an eyebrow curiously. 

Touya leans in closer to his little brother, swirling the wine in his glass as he lowers his voice mockingly, “‘You look beautiful’.”

The expression on Shouto’s face remains unreadable, his brain processing the fact that his brother must have overheard his conversation with you earlier. It’s while Touya begins to gulp down his glass that Shouto steps on his foot—a sharp pressure stomped onto freshly cleaned loafers. 

“Fuckin–” Touya hisses, cursing under his breath as he pulls his foot away. 

The edges of Shouto’s lips curl up as he turns back to his glass of wine, watching from across the table as his mom smiles fondly at something you must have said. 

(You still feel flustered, a little fuzzy. You’re unsure whether the heat emanating off your cheeks is from the wine or the lingering echoes of his compliment earlier.

From across the table, you lock eyes with Shouto, gray and blue sitting strikingly atop flushed cheeks. You look away quickly—a knee-jerk reaction of bashfulness. He doesn’t hold his liquor well, a fact you’ve known for many, many years, so you can’t tell for sure whether he’s turned red from the wine, or from the same thing you’re feeling, too.)

III. LET ME TELL YOU (HONESTLY)

“If y’don’t do shit first, some other loser will.”

“Losers lose ‘cause they don’t get shit done…”

“...just be honest about it when the time comes.”

The streets are calm at this time of night, with cars occasionally passing by and the chimes of shop doors tinkling as they open and shut. Not a lot of people stay up late in this part of the neighborhood, but Shouto still hears them—all the jumbled voices of Bakugo and his brothers merging in his mind. 

He steps onto concrete, footfalls muffled by the cushion of his boots—a new update on his costume, one you suggested after a stealth mission mishap caused by the drag of his heel. 

Tonight is his scheduled patrol—a route he knows like the back of his hand, memorized from the many years he’s been assigned to it. The streetlamps ahead cast a dim glow down the road; an atmosphere he would otherwise find unsettling if not for the fact that it’s provided him odd comfort in times he’s needed it the most. 

Tonight, his mind ruminates on you. 

Lately, his interactions with you have been… different—shy glances and awkward slip-ups; the intentional way he’s been expressing himself more around you. 

He can’t tell what you think of it yet. 

Yet, you still sit with him in comfortable silence on the nights that you both work late, and you still bring in fresh flowers for his desk every few days. He’s sure that when he gets back to the agency after his shift, you’ll still be there, claiming to finish a report when you both know it’s just an excuse to make sure that he finished patrol safely.

You still care for him in the same way. 

And now that he’s thinking more about it, maybe it’s been those little things all along—the same way you’ve been treating him all these years shifting into something deeper and more significant, beating its way out of his chest. 

You know Shouto better than anyone—so much so that his family asks you for lists of gift ideas because they don’t have the slightest clue what else to get him. He’s found himself seeking your opinion on things more and more over the years, and if he’s being honest, a big chunk of his decisions are now partly influenced by what you think of them first. 

Across the street, a couple sways to the beat of the jazz bar they step out of, their hands intertwined and smiles giddy with adoration and love. He looks away quickly before they catch him staring. 

There are things Shouto’s discovered that he likes seeing you do—like how you shift your feet when you feel flustered at something he says, or when you tap your index finger against whatever surface it’s on when you’re deep in thought. Your eyes widen when he says things you don’t expect him to, and something about that intrigues him.

He thinks you look cute. 

He wonders if you know that about yourself; and if you don’t, a part of him is saying that he should be the one to tell you.  

.

.

.

You and Shouto attend only one day of teambuilding. 

The company trip spans an entire two weeks, with each department coming in a few days at a time. You both would stay if you could, but Shouto’s schedule doesn’t allow him to be gone for more than a day.

It’s always been unspoken: wherever Shouto goes, you go too. 

This day of the teambuilding is assigned for the managers and those under Shouto’s direct reporting team. 

The estate is still as beautiful as the last time you both visited, summer shining atop the glistening surface of the lake across the green field. Company trips aren’t typically this grand, but this is also the first time in years that Shouto’s had free time to drop by. 

(It’s a bit funny, you think, watching him struggle to reach the finish line in a three-legged race paired with his finance director. Shouto is typically awkward in most team activities, but you find it endearing, watching him put full effort into things he normally doesn’t do.) 

By mid-afternoon, the day’s activities have consisted of tank rolls, marble balancing, and a classic game of pass-the-message (which, you’ve learned, Shouto is absolute garbage at). And for the final game of the day, the both of you are paired for a duo tug of war against his PR manager and support engineer. 

The afternoon heat burns the back of Shouto’s neck, his cap providing little to no protection for that area of his skin. He stands behind you, rope twisted firmly in his grasp as he prepares to pull. You mimic his stance, bracing yourself with your knees bent as you grip the rope tightly. 

Prior to the game, you were all given three minutes to discuss strategies. 

And so now, Shouto counts, low and steady, “One.” 

“Get set,” the facilitator for this activity announces. 

“Two.” 

You take a deep breath. 

“Go!” 

“Three.”

You both pull, holding your ground for a few seconds. He can see your knuckles turning white from where he’s standing, and when he glances at the other team, they’ve begun to lean back, anchoring their bodies to the ground before pulling away slowly. 

Shouto digs his feet into the earth, the rope’s rough fibers sticking to the calluses on his hands. It doesn’t take long before you both slip forward, being dragged by the other team and eventually pulled into your loss. 

You turn back to him immediately, apologetic as you rub your palms, “Sorry!”

(Before the game even began, you already knew whoever your partner was would be carrying most of the work. And you feel a little bad because your loss does make a bit of sense, you think. 

Though Shouto is strong, you know he’s developed his agility far more than his strength. It doesn’t help that his support engineer lifts bulks of synthetic thermal cloth everyday. 

The both of you didn’t stand a chance, really.) 

But Shouto waves it off, smiling softly. 

“Are you okay?” he looks down at your hands. Your skin is an angry flaming red all over your palms, but what causes him to frown are the small cuts resting at the base of your fingers. 

“Yup, all g–” you attempt to hide it, but Shouto’s reflexes are quick, and he catches your wrist the moment you pull away. 

It’s an instinctive reaction when he looks over it once, pressing his thumb to the center of your palm to get a better look. He reaches for his utility belt out of habit, patting the area above his hip only to feel nothing but the smooth cotton of his shirt.

Right, he remembers, he isn’t wearing his gear today.  

He drops his arms, looking around the field for a first-aid kit nearby. 

(A small chuckle escapes you, endeared, and Shouto looks up at the sound. His eyes meet yours briefly before he jogs all the way to retrieve the red box by the tree. 

It’s just a friction burn; a few small cuts from the rough material of the rope, at most. 

You don’t need first-aid. But—) 

When Shouto comes back, he ushers you to the side, grabbing a few cotton buds and antiseptic ointment from the box. His brain works on autopilot, barely thinking as he tends to your injury.

(You don’t need first-aid. But—) 

He peels the bandaid for you and gently places it on top of your wounds—a yellow checkered pattern decorating your skin. 

(You don’t need first aid. But you kind of get it, you think. It’s the same instinctive reaction you have when he gets papercuts. There’s no need for you to mend them with your quirk, but it’s an inexplicable feeling that makes you feel uneasy at the idea of him getting injured off the field.

A whistle is blown to call everyone back to huddle. 

“Better?” Shouto stares at you from under his cap, readjusting it as red and white strands touch the tips of his eyelashes. 

(He looks unfairly pretty like this. How can he even expect you to answer?

“Y-yeah,” you stutter, swallowing your breath. 

When Shouto walks towards everyone else, you follow, pressing your thumb onto your palm.) 

.

.

.

Shouto drops by the greenhouse at the end of the day. 

The sky above the glass dome ceiling is warmed by orange and pink hues. At sunset, the greenhouse looks ethereal, an almost otherworldly escape. The flowers haven’t changed much from his last visit here, but they seem to have blossomed further now that time has passed. 

He walks past the familiar cluster of chrysanthemums and spots a patch of white flowers he doesn’t recall from last time—a wooden placard with the name ‘iris’ sticks out from the soil. His knees bend to crouch low, fingers grazing over the softness of its petals. 

Earlier today, the estate so kindly offered to let him bring home flowers of his choice, and this bunch in front of him calls out to him, a purity and warmth that reminds him of his mom. 

The nippers in his hand feel clunky, a heavy-duty version of the ones he uses when he helps with gardening at home; but he cuts the stems gently, careful to remember all he’s been taught. 

When he thinks he’s gotten enough, he continues to stroll around the greenhouse, the wicker basket in his hand half-filled with pure, white irises. 

A little further down the path, he passes by the hydrangea bushes, his steps slowing as fragmented pieces of that memory with you replay in slow motion. 

“The lighting was nice. See!” 

“You look beautiful,” he confesses, the sentence overflowing with honesty.

And he decides—

He should get you flowers too. 

Your desk always seems to have some, and you’re consistently on top of keeping fresh flowers around the agency—on his desk specifically. 

It’s only right.

His mom always tells him that flowers can never lie; they bloom where they are loved and speak from the heart when words are not enough—it’s why she loves them so much.

And, maybe she has a point, because the pink hydrangeas look pretty; they remind him of you, especially.

On his way here, the white camellias spoke to him too. Maybe he’ll get them both for you. 

He crouches low again, nipping the hydrangea stems before backtracking to collect a few camellias. By the time he finishes, his wicker basket is filled to the brim, an assortment of pink and white threatening to spill from its edges. The leaves of the irises stick out, poking at his wrist and making the skin itch.

You find him that way—struggling to wrangle in the abundance of blooms into his basket.

“I think you need another basket,” you chuckle, walking towards him. 

There’s something about you and this hour; how it feels like you fit right in this moment, at the peak of sunset, blooming the same way the flowers do. 

Your smile is radiant against the warmth of diffused sunlight, and though he’s seen you in this same exact slacks-and-blouse combination before, the way he sees you now has shifted. 

You look different, but in all the ways he can’t visibly point out. 

He blinks, and that thump beats once more. 

His arm moves before he can comprehend it, the bunch of camellias and hydrangeas outstretched towards you.

Your eyes widen in surprise, eyebrows scrunched in confusion as you tilt your head slightly, your hand reaching out for it reluctantly. 

“Would you want me to have this wrapped?” 

(The flowers feel lush in your palm, and you can’t help but wonder who he intends to give them to. There are irises in his basket too, left untouched for reasons you’re not sure you’d like to know. 

Your grip on the stems tighten. 

The camellias stare back at you, an immaculate white, with the pink hydrangeas adding a delicate softness to them. It’s a pretty combination, and you can’t help but think that whoever they’re intended for should feel—)

“It’s for you.”

You lock eyes when you look up. There’s a weight to Shouto’s gaze that intends to get his message across, the words still barely forming on his tongue. 

“Oh,” is the only thing you manage to say.  

(—surprised; grateful; confused; the emotions swirl inside of you. The shock is apparent on your face, your eyes widening at his admission. Confusion presents itself in the tilt of your head as you stumble over how to express your gratitude.

“It’s not…” you hesitate, diverting your gaze to anything else but that piercing pair of gray-and-blue. Your mind is drawing up a blank, figuring out what reason he has for giving them to you.)

“There’s no occasion…?”

It comes out as half a question and half something else, your uncertainty marked by the semi-lilt at the end. 

Shouto blinks. 

He wonders if he should tell you now, if he should just confess that he’s been feeling differently about you these days.

You shift your feet, your thumbs rubbing against the flowers’ leaves. 

The thump persists in his chest, knocking at the base of his throat—

Thump.

He takes a deep breath.

Thump.

—but even with its persistence, the words still struggle to come out.

Thump.

Maybe not now; it’s not the right time. 

But he says something else, an admission much easier that still holds just as much truth.

“No occasion.” 

.

.

.

Shouto knows your Mondays. 

You switch out the flowers on his desk for a different arrangement of blooms every week. Then, you give him a run-down of his schedule, going over important announcements and upcoming events. 

The mornings go by quickly, with you constantly moving around your desk. Shouto can’t tell what you’re doing exactly, but you’re always working on something whenever he sneaks a peek through the single glass panel cut-out from your shared wall. 

Lunch is a wildcard. On some days, you bring your own; on others, you grab a bite down in the cafeteria. Your routine is largely dependent on how busy you anticipate work to be that day, and though it varies from time-to-time, you never forget to knock on his door—a two-part thump that takes him out of his own little work bubble. 

He almost looks forward to it now, the way your head peeps in from behind his office doors. You call out his name softly, only continuing to speak when he looks up from whatever file he’s working on. 

Shouto knows your Mondays. 

You spend the afternoons all over the place, much like he does; while he roams the city, you roam the agency, attending meetings and checking in on different departments. He knows because when he comes back by the end of the day, you almost always have a new set of updates prepared on your desk for the next morning. 

He also knows that Mondays are when you often work overtime, preferring to get a bulk of any urgent matters completed and out of the way.

The back door of his office clicks shut as he walks into the room, his rubber boots leaving no trace that he’s arrived from how quietly his footsteps hit the floor. He unbuckles his utility belt, one hand automatically reaching for its lock; it’s a habit, the ‘clack’ that sounds from it a satisfying marker he looks forward to at the end of every patrol. 

In the corner of his office is a private restroom that he slips into. He quickly changes out of his hero suit and into a pair of sweatpants, throwing on one of his many favorite white shirts—his go-to outfit on the days he works late. 

There are still some reports he has to look over tonight, but nothing too time-consuming. 

It’s really you he’s staying behind for. 

He glances at you through the glass panel of his wall, your face dimly lit by your computer screen. Your eyebrows are scrunched, eyes squinting in pure focus. 

It never feels right for him to leave when you haven’t left either. 

He settles into his seat, finger tapping on his desk as he contemplates whether or not he should offer you his help. 

You always decline when he does; he can already hear your response. But there are stacks of folders on your desk right now and he’s predicting that it’ll take at least a few more hours before you get through all of them.

He taps his foot, staring at the report in front of him. 

A thump. 

The wheels of his chair roll back, leather squeaking as he stands up. 

As soon as he exits his office, you look up, surprised. 

“You’re back!” 

He nods, walking closer to your desk. “It’s 8:00 p.m.”

You glance at the top of your screen, a sheepish smile forming on your face, “Right.” 

(This is his way of telling you it’s late, you’re well aware.)

He looks around your desk, folders and stationery all neatly organized and labeled. You keep a few touches of your personality around your space, with personalized pens and notepads gathered in one corner. 

They’re all things he’s seen before, but what makes him do a double-take is the vase sitting in the corner, obscured by your computer screen. 

Sitting inside it is the arrangement of flowers he gave you back at the teambuilding, the pink hydrangeas still as good as new next to the white camellias. It’s been a little over a week since, and you always change the arrangement on your desk as frequently as you change his. 

So for you to keep it for this long—

“And how may I help you?” you ask jokingly, biting down your smile. 

His eyes flit over to you, your gaze set on your screen as you continue to type.

(It’s hard to focus on the documents in front of you when he looks at you like that. Shouto’s stare has always been unnerving, but it feels especially scrutinizing when he merely stands, watching without a word.)

“You have a lot of work left,” he gestures towards the stack of folders on your desk. 

(Your eyes glance over the pile quickly as you mumble, “Yeah.” 

A few seconds of silence pass before what he really means starts to sink in. 

It’s not often that Shouto finishes work before you—at least, to your knowledge. You still see him inside his office when you pack your things, ready to leave. 

So, this is out of the ordinary. 

And if he’s standing in front of your desk, hinting at how much longer you’ll be staying at work. Then, it can only mean—

“A-are you waiting for me to go?” you move to stand, guilty. “Don’t worry about it, I can lock up.”)

Shouto furrows his brows, tilting his head slightly. 

That’s never been a thing; he’s always gone home last, and has always waited for you when you have work left to do. He makes sure of it every time, watching carefully for your computer light to turn off. 

But he won’t tell you that; letting you know would mean admitting that he’s been doing it for years. 

He places his palm on the top folder. 

“What else do you have to do?” 

You stay quiet for a few seconds before reluctantly listing it all—reports, meeting summaries, and a few emails you plan to schedule for tomorrow morning. His frown deepens as your list only grows, immediately cutting yourself off the second you notice your ramblings. 

“… but if you’re waiting, I can bring these home and—”

“What can I do to help?” he interjects, stopping you just before you shut down your computer. 

(You can only stare when proceeds to take a seat in front of you, the legs of your guest chair dragging against the floor as he pulls it closer. 

It hits you a bit like déjà vu, this moment, how it feels just like early days back in that rented studio unit; back when you could count the number of people comprising his team on one hand. 

Back then, your desks were just a few steps away from each other, an overflow of paperwork inevitably spilling into each other’s spaces. Because all of the files were stored in your drawers, it was more convenient for Shouto to sit himself across your desk, splitting the work and going over them one at a time. 

Things are different now that the agency’s grown—you have a bigger space, and the work isn’t nearly as packed as it used to be; but some days still end up a little bit more hectic than others. Like today.

“There’s no need,” you reach for the stack under his palm, “I can finish this at—”

“We can finish faster if we do this together.”

That promptly shuts you up. 

Shouto is blunt to a fault, unafraid of saying things as they are; his voice carries an unbothered cadence no matter who it is he’s talking to. 

You figure, there’s no point arguing with him when he’s right, after all.) 

Shouto begins going over a few of the reports that you’ve tagged red and yellow, listening intently as you instruct him on which parts to focus on. In exchange, you make space for him on your desk, setting aside some of the folders you had brought out earlier.

It’s a good hour into working before Shouto notices you easing up slightly, your shoulders more relaxed in comparison to how bunched up they were earlier.

He knows you’ve been glancing at him occasionally, your head turning every now and then to check on how he’s doing—a failed attempt at subtlety. 

“Are you almost done?” he asks, head down as he slips another completed file into its folder. The stack beside him is growing, his ‘done’ pile nearly as tall as the unfinished one. 

(You turn to him, attention shifting to the split of red and white hair down the center of his head, “Yeah, I just—”

Your words trail off, eyes squinting as you move closer to where he’s hunched over. 

Right on the shoulder of his shirt is a small tear, big enough to touch the edges of its collar but small enough that you’d only have to be up close to be able to notice. 

You assess the tear intently, looking carefully for any cuts underneath and thankfully find none.

But—

He notices you’ve gone quiet and looks up, the sudden movement catching you off guard. You make a sound, something in-between a squeak and an ‘oops.’ 

“Sorry, I just,” you point, “your shirt’s ripped.” 

His eyes follow the direction of your finger, finding the small tear running horizontally along the fabric of hjs shirt. 

“I can fix it,” you offer, the wheels of your chair rolling to land you directly across him. 

It’s one of his favorite shirts.)

He barely thinks when his body acts on its own, pressing itself closer to your desk as you slightly bend over for better reach. 

You don’t have to patch up his shirt, especially something so small. He has plenty of the same ones in his closet; and if it comes to it, he wouldn’t mind buying a new one. You really don’t have to patch up his shirt, because he wouldn’t have even noticed had you not mentioned it. 

But it’s that kind of tender care and attention to detail that you’ve had for him since you started working together that’s always drawn him in. 

Shouto has lived most of his life with the means to live comfortably, but since starting his own agency, he’s learned the value of maximizing resources—and it’s all because of you.

A thump. 

The moment your fingers touch his shoulder, he hears nothing but that continuous three-beat thump. Your quirk tingles when it touches skin, but you aren’t mending that—you’re fixing his shirt, separate from your skin, and yet, he still feels the little zaps go off inside of him. 

A thump. 

Up close, the strands of your hair tickle his cheek. 

A thump. 

The fabric of his shirt mends itself slowly, and it only makes him think of everything else—of the leather chair you helped fix, painstakingly going through each and every crack to bring it back to near-new condition. He thinks about every cut and scrape you’ve helped heal without having to, about every time you’ve insisted when he’d shrug it off as nothing. 

From you, he’s learned that things can be fixed without having to change them whole. 

It’s how he’s (you’ve) managed to keep the agency running; it’s why you get along so well with him and the rest of his family. 

And these feelings in his chest are pounding, built up over time to tip over and transform into something more than just an excellent work dynamic. At this point, it’s become companionship, a presence he seeks out a little bit more than friendship. 

You know him better than anyone else does. 

The flowers he gave you are still on your desk. 

So, he says your name, voice low and tender by your ear. 

You freeze, holding your breath. 

Another thump.

His honesty spills outs—

“I like you.” 

A three-beat thump. 

(You don’t believe it at first, the urge to ask him again right at the tip of your tongue. But, he pulls away, unfinished, and looks you in the eye to continue. 

“But it feels more than a crush, I think.” He presses his fingers against the table, grounding himself, “Natsuo told me it was a crush, and he told me to think about it, so I did.” 

Shouto is a man of sufficient words; not too few, not too plenty. But when he gets nervous and a little excited, he starts rambling, and—

“Bakugo told me his mom thought we were dating, and even though I said that wasn’t the case, I almost didn’t want to deny it. Touya has been a dick about it, but he makes good points, so I also owe it to him.”

(The shock on your face shifts into fondness. You can’t see the point of what he’s saying yet, but it’s cute—one of the many things that make him endearing.) 

He pauses, watching your expression shift into curiosity. 

“It started with this thumping,” he places a hand over his chest. “It used to only come sometimes, but lately it’s been happening all the time.” 

Shouto keeps his gaze deadset on yours. He doesn’t say anything else, sentences just barely forming in his head to fully capture what he really means. His feet and palms stay firmly planted where they are, his only movement being the steady blinking of his eyes. 

(But it’s okay, because you can understand. 

If you’re being honest, the signs were all there. 

Nothing Shouto does can be subtle when you know him as well as you do. 

A smile breaks out on your face, the one you can barely contain around him. It’s a little teasing and shy but completely genuine from the way it softens your eyes. 

“We’ll have to come up with something for HR,” you try to contain your smile.)

And he isn’t worried at all. He knows you’ll both find a way, just like you always do.

additional material: moodboard + playlist

a/n: so much to say about this fic but i'll sum it up with saying this is my baby! and i hold it close to my heart for many reasons. writing this made me love their dynamic and i hope you did too!

thank you notes: to @soumies for literally beta reading this. i owe this fic to you fr you are my lifesaver i love you. to @augustinewrites @scarabrat @stellamancer @arcvenes for helping me a ton with characterisations, dialogues, songs, inspo, everything!!! ily all!! it took a village to write this fic fr. (+ to my bf for sitting me down and so he could explain the whole point system of golf for like 30 minutes LOL)

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

[thebibliosphere]

Yesterday was my first time in the ER since my hEDS diagnosis was officially added to my file (instead of me having to tell them and hoping they’d believe me), and everyone in my emergency care team was on top of it. Like on the ball, fully engaged and interested in keeping the zebra in the hospital comfortable.

They also all knew what MCAS and POTS were and deferred to me when it came to medication and pain management. Which was also wild, because they were not shy at all about offering pain relief. They straight up offered me narcotics, when usually the most I get offered is Tylenol.

Even the CT tech knew what MCAS was and asked if we should pre-treat with Benadryl because he knew some patients could experience mast cell destabilization from the radiation even without the contrast dye.

He and the nurse even helped brace my neck when I was going into the CT machine because I mentioned having cranial instability, and the position I was in was making my neck click, so they stopped everything to find multiple pillows to brace my neck and shoulders while I was on the table.

Afterward, while being bussed through the corridors in my bed (because they had to dehydrate me to take the CT scan and my POTS was going haywire, and they made sure I had to be upright as little as possible), I commented to my nurse that I was startled that everyone I’d spoken to that day knew about EDS/MCAS/POTS and were so accommodating.

He paused before answering, then told me, “We probably don’t know as much about EDS as we should, but we’ve seen a lot of the other two over the last few years. Covid really messed people up. Did yours start with covid?” No, I told him. We think I was probably born with it and a dental infection turned it lethal. He expressed his sympathy and again reminded me I didn’t need to be a hero and I could press the pain med button whenever I needed to.

Back in my room, they started me on IV fluids to combat the dehydration from the POTS. And I was laying there, I became aware of the nurse bracing my elbow so it wouldn’t hyperextend while he futzed around with the IV and I remember thinking, “this is how it always should have been.”

The kindness and care shown to me were in such stark contrast to past experiences it made me quite tearful. There were no accusations of anxiety, no referrals to psyche, and no implications that I was over-exaggerating my pain. No denying of my experiences.

Just a quiet, vocal acceptance that I “knew my body best” and that they’d do whatever they could to help.

It was nice.

[somber-sapphic]

Hi I was wondering if you could do the sicktember 24. “Did you just sneeze?” - Yelena x Sick Reader.

Little Kitten

〖Summary: Yelena teases you for the way you sneeze.〗

〖Word Count: 550〗

〖Pairing: Yelena x Sick Reader〗

〖Notes: I would greatly appreciate if everyone is nice about this one, I will admit that Yelena is not my best character and I'm working to get better at her characterization.〗

〖Translation: котенок = kitten (according to google translate; I don't speak Russian, I'm sorry if it's wrong)〗

☾Masterlists☽

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“Did you just…sneeze?” Yelena asked, incredulous at the small kittenish sound you had just made. You pouted at her and grabbed a tissue that you used to paw at your nose. Her face split into a grin as she watched your movements, noting that even those were strangely catlike. 

 “Lena,” You whined, sniffing in a rather pathetic way. “Le’me alone, I don’ feel good.” A permanent pout had settled on your lips since this mind-numbing cold had started and you felt rather pitiful. 

To her credit, Yelena had been doing a surprisingly good job at taking care of you. She wouldn’t win any awards for being the most nurturing person, but she made sure you ate, drank water, took your meds, and supplied you with more tissues than you’d ever need. She even cuddled with you when you asked, though the act was performed with a lot of grumbling about germs. 

You didn’t blame her, this was a monster of a cold that had you laid up in bed for three days already, days that felt like weeks. It had hit you hard and fast, one night you were fine and the next morning you were an absolute mess. 

Your head ached. Every part of you ached, your nose was stuffy, and you had a low-grade fever that was just enough to make your bones hurt. You’d developed a cough the day before that was clinging to your chest, making it feel heavy. Concerns of bronchitis had floated across your mind for a moment, but you didn’t feel well enough to care. 

If it was bronchitis Yelena was making sure you were doing what you needed to combat it and you were pretty sure she wouldn’t let you die. Not like that anyway, that would be rude of her. 

“Fine, but that was cute. Do you need anything?” she asked, still chuckling. The little smile on her face would have been sweet if it hadn’t come at your expense. You glared at her and crossed your arms over your chest, huffing your frustration. Not only were you plain old tired, but you were tired of being sick. 

“No.” You muttered, staring with dead eyes at the TV. You weren’t sure what was playing but the bright light was annoying you. Everything was annoying you. You were mad about being sick, mad that TV was boring, mad that your nose was running, mad that your throat hurt. Mad mad mad. 

“Okay grumpy, why don't you go sit on the couch and I’ll make you something to eat? We’ve got some great boxed mac and cheese.” she offered, trying to guess what you were thinking. She was right of course, the most frustrating thing about your current situation was that all you had eaten was soup. You were so done with soup. 

“Fine.” You took in a quick breath and sneezed again, making the same sound as earlier. Yelena laughed and leaned over to kiss your forehead, the bed shifting with her weight. 

“Rest котенок. Food will be ready when you are.” As she left you allowed yourself a small smile. You were touched by her warmth, something saved only for you. She had such a hard exterior, which made sense considering what she had been through, and her caring held a different level of meaning. 

[vivalas-vega]

new perspectives / jake ‘hangman’ seresin x reader / part six

hehehe.... it’s the moment we’ve all been waiting for !!!!!!! (insert gif of michael scott screaming it’s happening) - as always lmk what you think and if you want to be added to the taglist!

new perspectives / jake ‘hangman’ seresin x reader / part six

add yourself to my taglist

prologue - one - two - three - four - five 

word count: 4.2k

warnings: language, drinking, slight angst, smut !!!, oral (f-receiving), unprotected p-in-v penetration (wrap it before you tap it), all the feels bc we’ve all waited too long

The house was absolutely bustling, there were Daggers spread out from the couch to the kitchen to the backyard and while they were making an utter mess of your immaculately decorated home you thought to yourself that this was how it was supposed to be. You saw Amelia and Penny sitting by the pool with their feet hanging over the edge, Rooster and Jake arguing over how best to grill a burger, Fanboy and Payback engaged in a heated discussion about some superhero movie, and Maverick and Bob talking about plane specs while you and Coyote were mixing up the next round of drinks. 

“Have you ever mixed a drink before? Give me that,” you said, grabbing the bottle of tequila from him while he held his hands up in surrender. “You’re on lime duty,” you said, reassigning his tasks and he just chuckled while he got to work.

“You and Hangman seem a lot better,” he commented and you nodded. Mary and John had left for home a few weeks ago and everything seemed to be going great with her recovery. You’d gotten her set up with an oncologist you’d met in med school who would be in charge of her care from now on… Mary would have to get frequent scans for the rest of her life but it was something you would all willingly accept if it meant she had a rest of her life to live. Dr. Lewis had gotten clean margins and successfully removed the entire thing which limited her chance of recurrence but there was always a risk and this was just something you all had to live with from now on. 

“Things have definitely settled, it’s a bitter pill to swallow to know your mom might get another tumor in the future but she’s in the best hands and we’re doing everything we can,” you replied. 

“He told me he was kind of an ass to you during the whole thing,” he said and you just shrugged.

“He wasn’t, I’m sure it feels that way from his perspective but I was kind of an ass too in my own way, we just handled it differently. I went into doctor mode and he went into panicked son mode. Neither was the wrong response, it was just hard to be there for each other but we’re good now.”

“So, do you want to tell me why the two of you are still single then?” he asked and you just gave him a look.

“You’re a worse gossip than Phoenix,” you teased and he chuckled.

“We all want to know, watching the two of you is like having our own romance movie except it’s so much more frustrating,” he groaned.

“Oh yeah? And why is that?” you asked, deciding to indulge him for a moment.

“Because with a movie you get the ending in two hours,” he said and you laughed as you grabbed ice from the freezer to pop in each drink. Between Jake’s mother in the hospital and Coyote now you could feel that a lot of people were awaiting your inevitable reunion and honestly so were you… you just didn’t know how to initiate it, between the longing glances and lingering touches you felt like a high schooler again. You couldn’t tell where Jake’s head was at, every single time you got close to having a moment he suddenly preoccupied himself elsewhere and you thought back to the Hard Deck a few nights ago…

“Rooster, put those shots somewhere else or so help me god… I’m not singing with you,” you said, narrowing your eyes at him as he started to approach you and he looked at you like a deer caught in the headlights.

“But… please?” he said so soft and so small it almost made you feel bad for him. Almost. “Come on, Jupiter, you know you have fun.”

“This is peer pressure. I am actively being peer pressured,” you giggled as he approached you and held the glass up to your lips. You conceded and opened your mouth, allowing him to pour it in and as you wiped the few drops that missed and swallowed you gave him a glare that would have anyone shaking in their boots. “I feel like that was assault.”

“See you at the piano!” he said, walking away triumphantly and you chuckled to yourself. You would see him at the piano later, you always put up a good fight but you couldn’t seem to say no to him… he loved getting the whole bar engaged in song and who were you to deny him his fun?

“I see another duet is in the cards,” Jake said, sidling up beside you having seen the whole thing and while he was doing a great job at hiding it from you jealousy was roaring through his veins. He hated watching Rooster press the glass to your lips, he hated the eye contact you maintained with him while he poured it into your mouth, and more than anything he hated the way you laughed for him. It was silly, yes, he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt Rooster would never try anything with you, and he knew you would never try anything with him. The two of you had developed a bond he didn’t thoroughly understand but it seemed to maybe you happy and well, who was he to deny you your fun?

“It appears so, I worry about his song selection,” you said, turning to look up at him and you couldn’t quite decipher the look in his eyes as he took a step forward and you stumbled at the proximity and found yourself pressed against the edge of the pool table. You could feel the warmth radiating off of him and you felt yourself slightly tremble with anticipation… Was this finally the moment? Had Phoenix been right all along? Was a silly moment with Rooster really all it took to get you here? He grazed his fingers along your arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake and you subtly tilted your jaw upwards.

“Well, I look forward to the show,” he said with a small smirk before stepping away entirely and leaving you reeling as he clapped Coyote on the back and joined his conversation with Bob. 

You shook yourself out of it and tried to push past the desire that flooded through you at the memory as you loaded the drinks onto a tray and began to make the rounds to distribute them. The squad was having a great time and you had a feeling these barbecue’s were going to become a monthly occurrence but you really didn’t mind, you enjoyed the change in scenery from the bar and you liked that they all felt so at home here. Establishing yourself as the designated host for all group events had been your main goal and it seemed like you had succeeded. 

“Rooster wants to play beer pong, what’s the verdict on that after what happened last time?” Jake asked as you stepped out onto the patio and you chuckled as you recalled the last time everyone had been here. The game had gotten so intense that without even realizing Fanboy had taken a giant step backwards as you were walking behind him and sent you flying into the pool. Jake had gone into overprotective mode, yelling at Fanboy for being so unaware of his surroundings but when you resurfaced you had to cling to the sidewall for support because you were laughing so hard, and you’d pulled the age-old trick of beckoning Fanboy over to help you out only to pull him in with you. 

“I am in favor of beer pong, I’ll go grab the table,” you said, handing the boys their drinks before walking around the side of the house to enter the garage. You pulled the folded table from the shelf it resided on and nearly dropped it on your feet when you turned and saw Jake, “Jesus fuck, announce yourself,” you said, catching your breath. 

“Sorry,” he chuckled, but you could tell he really wasn’t. “Just thought I’d help you.” he said, pulling it from your grasp. You kept your hand on it for a moment too long, trapping him in place as your eyes raked over him, taking in his beautifully snug swim shorts and lack of shirt as you finally looked up at him through your lashes. His green eyes were holding onto yours intensely and you took a step closer, almost challenging him to do something as tension weighed heavy in the air. You could smell the spearmint and tequila on his breath and you so desperately wanted a taste as you started to lean up on your tiptoes and moments before your lips brushed the garage door swung open with a bang and the two of you jolted apart and looked over to Phoenix as she entered from the house. Her eyes widened as she took in the scene before her and you turned back to Jake.

“I’ll meet you guys out there,” you said, and he nodded as he left through the other entrance and when you turned back to Phoenix she had regret written all over her face.

“I am so sorry,” she started and you just groaned, watching as she walked down the steps and opened the fridge door, “I came out to grab more beer.” 

“That is the closest we’ve ever gotten,” you said, shooting her a glare as you leaned your head against the side of the fridge and pouted, and she gave you a sad look as she closed the door and placed a hand on her hip.

“Seriously? What the hell is his problem? This is Hangman we’re talking about, I thought for sure he would have made a move by now.”

“You’re telling me…” you grumbled, “whose benefit does he think I wore this for, yours?” you asked, gesturing down to your outfit. You were wearing a simple black string bikini top that did wonders for the girls along with high waisted cut off shorts that were just a little cheeky and she chuckled.

“I like to think you did,” she said and you swatted her arm as you followed her back into the house. “If you got that close in the garage it’s only a matter of time, let the outfit do its work,” she said, giving you a nudge as you walked back onto the patio with a stack of red cups that you started to arrange on the table.

“I call Jupiter on my team,” Rooster said and Jake shot him a glare, “what, she’s got wicked aim,” he said and you chuckled.

“Fine, then I get Phoenix,” Jake countered and your chuckle turned into a sigh. Getting the four most competitive people all on the first round did not bode well for what would follow. The rest of the squad had filtered outside, the sun had lowered just slightly in the sky giving your backyard a break from the heat and it was now the perfect temperature for poolside lounging and spectating. You listened as people immediately started betting, deciding which team to put money on and you looked at Rooster.

“Okay, if you’re going to call me then you need to pull your weight, we’re not losing to those two.” you said and he nodded, holding his hands up for you to high five.

“One step ahead of you, they are going down.” he said as he reached into the cooler and grabbed two seltzers for you, cheersing when you cracked them open. The game got off to a hot start and the two teams were tied, going shot for shot until you decided to up the ante and use the fact that you weren’t with your usual teammate to your advantage. You took a sip of your seltzer just as Jake was starting to line up for his shot and accidentally let a little dribble down your chest and you could feel his gaze on you as he tracked it sliding down the curve of your breasts where you swiped it up and licked it from your fingertip. His focus was wavering and you watched with a smirk as the ball plinked off the side of the cup and rolled into the grass. 

“Bummer,” you said, voice laced with sarcasm as you held your hand out to Rooster who dropped the ping pong balls in your hand. You could see him position himself directly behind his cups, you knew he wasn’t stupid enough to think your stunt was entirely innocent but you had an advantage he wasn’t considering… sure, he had to be laser focused at work but his concentration didn’t hold a candle to yours. You completely disregarded him and watched in satisfaction as both of your throws landed perfectly in the cups and smiled sweetly at him. You had sparked a new type of competitiveness in him and he landed his next two shots, and you decided to take it a step further, starting to fiddle with the straps of your swimsuit for dramatic effect for a few moments before you turned to Rooster and pulled your hair over your shoulder.

“Roo, can you retie this for me? It keeps slipping,” you said, and poor Rooster was none the wiser as he set his drink down to simply help out a friend. You held onto the front of your top, and though you were refusing to make eye contact Jake was burning holes in your skull as he quickly secured the swimsuit and you smiled brightly at Rooster when he finished before he lined up to take his shots. Phoenix was watching the whole thing with a smirk, as much as she hated the fact that your tricks were going to cost her the game she was rather enjoying how easily you were working Jake up, and that was almost worth losing. 

“And that’s game,” you said as your ball landed in their last cup, “better luck next time.” Rooster pulled you in for a celebratory hug before releasing you and you said something about grabbing a glass of water as you slipped back into the house, leaving the rest of the squad to squabble over who was going next. You braced yourself on the edge of the counter as you gulped the water down, your body rejoicing as you plied it with something other than hard seltzer or tequila. You waited for another moment, letting your nails tap erratically against the smooth surface before growing frustrated and rejoining the group, watching as Bob and Fanboy took on Maverick and Coyote… a matchup you wouldn’t have foreseen but you watched anyways in amusement. 

“He didn’t follow you in after that little show?” Phoenix asked quietly as you sat down at the edge of the pool next to her.

“Nope,” you replied, popping the p and she shook her head.

“Silly boy,” she chuckled. You let your eyes drift over to him to find his already on you and you briefly wondered to yourself why nothing was happening. In all the months you’d been here there had been plenty of opportunity and you started to get into your own head, wondering if maybe things had changed, if he no longer felt the same way. You didn’t know what you would do if that was the case but you did know you didn’t like the way it felt like a knife to the heart. As the sun set in the sky the rest of the pilots began to filter out, thanking you for hosting and already asking about the next group hangout until one by one you and Jake were left alone. 

You were collecting towels from around the pool when you looked up to see him leaning against the sliding glass door giving you a soft smile, “come with me?” he asked and you nodded, discarding the towels on a lounge chair and taking his outstretched hand as he led you through your house.

“Where are we going?” you asked with a soft laugh, but he didn’t answer as he opened your bedroom door and you let out a small gasp when he gestured for you to go in first. The room was illuminated by dozens of small tea lights that were casting an ethereal warm glow over the space and you turned to face Jake as he rested his hands on your waist.

“Ever since you got here I’ve been wracking my brain trying to figure out the perfect moment…” he said, and you smiled as you looked up at him, “I wanted it to be special, and Phoenix let me know I was losing the thread,” he said with a chuckle and you laughed as well. “And the more time that passed I realized there isn’t any one perfect moment, but that I was missing out on a lot of moments with you and I don’t want to do that anymore.” he said, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “I want every moment with you, if you’ll have me.”

“It’s about time,” you said, leaning up to crash your lips against his and it felt like coming home. You moved in tandem the way you always did, working together seamlessly as you melted against him and he slid his hands down your sides to cup under your ass where you jumped to wrap your legs around him. He carried you to the bed, laying you down gently and slotting himself against you as he slid his tongue past your lips and you moaned into him. 

“Wear this just for me?” he asked as he reached around your neck to untie your bikini top and you nodded as you arched into his touch when he trailed his hand across your chest to pull it off. “My beautiful girl,” he mumbled, mostly to himself as his lips connected to your neck and you let out a breathy sigh, so unbelievably content to have his hands roaming over your body as desire thrummed in your veins. He kissed his way back to your lips before pulling away to gaze into your eyes and your hand instinctively came to rest on his cheek. “I love you so much,” he said as you stroked across his cheekbone.

“I love you,” you replied, pulling his lips back to yours where you kissed with fire and passion. His fingers worked the button of your shorts and he kissed down your body, making sure to leave nothing untouched in his wake as he settled between your legs and pulled them off, quickly pausing to pull his own shirt off. He paid special attention to the soft skin of your thighs, kissing and nipping as his big hands gripped and massaged. He pressed his lips to your clothed heat and you involuntarily bucked against him, desperate for friction. He hooked his fingers around the fabric and slowly pulled them off, eyes flitting up to meet yours that were looking down at him with such love it made his heart stop. You were writhing beneath him, anticipation threatening to rattle you apart from the inside and he placed more delicate kisses around your core.

“Don’t worry, honey… gonna take care of you,” he said before licking a stripe through your folds. Your body jerked at the contact and he looped one of his arms through your leg, pressing a hand to your hips to keep you still. Moans fell from your lips as he carefully licked and sucked your clit and your hands threaded in his hair as you tried to pull him closer. He switched between teasing your entrance and circling your sensitive bundle of nerves with ease, quickly working you up until you were all but begging for more.

“Jake, please…” you sighed, and he could never deny you anything when you sounded like that. He eased one finger into your entrance before quickly adding a second, thrusting slowly and massaging that spot inside you that had you crying out his name. 

“Come on, sweetheart… Cum for me,” he groaned against you, eyes straining upwards as he sucked your clit into his mouth and his cock throbbed as he watched your back arch off the bed. He swore he had never seen anything quite so beautiful as your walls clenched around his fingers. You felt that familiar build within you and a particularly rough thrust of his fingers had you tumbling off the edge. White hot pleasure shot through you as you shook beneath him, chanting his name like a prayer and Jake changed his mind… that was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. You jolted again as he kitten-licked you and gently tugged on his hair to pull him up where you captured his lips and tasted yourself on him. 

“Please, need to feel you…” you said breathlessly, and reached down to swipe his length between your folds, collecting wetness and you moaned at the sensation. He began to press into you and your hands gripped his bicep as he bottomed out, letting out a breath at how full you felt. He took a moment to let you adjust, brushing hair from your face and placing gentle kisses along your cheekbones. You moaned when he began to move and the slight sting gave way to pure pleasure as he rocked against you slowly. 

“I missed you so much, sweetheart… you feel so good around me,” he whispered into your ear as he kissed along your neck and you pushed your body against his, desperately trying to get closer. You let out a loud moan when he picked up the pace, you could feel every inch of him brushing against every spot inside of you and you never wanted this to end. If you could stay wrapped up in this moment of pure bliss forever you would. He snaked a hand between you to rub circles against your clit and you tugged gently at the hair at the base of his neck, involuntarily grinding against him as he groaned in your ear. 

“Fuck, Jake…” you breathed out as you felt the tension begin to grow again. He pressed his forehead against yours and your moans came out strangled as he threw one of your legs over his shoulder, filling you so deeply you swore you could feel him everywhere. “I love you so much,” you said, cupping his face with your hands and he pressed a kiss to your lips, trying to convey everything to you he couldn’t quite find the words for. Your thighs began to tremble and soon the only word you knew was his name, repeating it over and over…

“Gonna cum for me again, angel?” he asked and you nodded against him, “come on sweetheart,” he applied more pressure to your clit. “You always did look so beautiful cumming on my cock,” he said and it was as if that was all you needed for your climax to wash over you. Your body shook beneath him as the pleasure rolled over you and you felt a hot tear slide down your temple as you cried his name. Your walls tightening around him triggered his own release and as you rode out your high you felt his warmth fill you while he groaned praise into your ear. He stilled within you while your chest heaved, your lungs fighting for oxygen while you returned back to your body and you smiled softly as you felt Jake littering your face with kisses. He slowly pulled out of you and you both hissed at the loss, and he quickly grabbed a wet cloth from the bathroom to gently clean you up before sliding into bed and wrapping his arms around you, pulling you in and holding you close.

“I missed you so much,” he said, kissing the top of your head as you snuggled into him.

“I missed you, too,” you replied, still fully blissed out. “Can’t believe you waited so long,” you teased and he chuckled beneath you.

“Wanted it to be perfect,” he said. “I knew I was going to do it tonight though… your little stunts all day long were making it very difficult to hold out.”

“That was the goal,” you said and he laughed again. “I’m going to say something that might seem a little crazy,” you said as you propped yourself up on his chest to look up at him. 

“I’m intrigued,” he replied, carding his fingers through your hair.

“Move in with me.” He looked at you curiously for a moment before a wide grin spread across his features.

“You sure?” he asked and he nodded.

“You are the only thing I have ever been so completely sure of,” you responded and he leaned down to meet your lips.  

“I’ll start packing tomorrow,” he said and you laid your head back down, listening to the steady beat of his heart and tracing patterns along his chest. Laying here wrapped up in Jake’s arms the only word you could come up with to describe how you were feeling was complete… it was like the final piece of the puzzle had finally clicked into place. You weren’t sure why you had doubted him at all today, if there was one thing in this life that you knew to be undeniably true it was that it was you and Jake against the world… it always had been and always would be.

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[nerdieforpedro]

VIII - Have we put all the pieces together?

Only Parts of you Mr. Morales Series

This fic and my blog over all is 18+ MDNI

Frankie Morales x Belinda (plus size OFC)

Word Count: about 3.4k (Longer than all the other pieces 😑 Endings are rough.)

Summary: Frankie and Belinda have a conversation that truly is better in the morning. Things are moving and shaking while Belinda is stir-crazy. After things settle down, pieces are in place where they should be.

Warnings: angst, intoxication (mild), medical jargon, pregnancy and complications (Nerdie may have taken liberties with this - Mother & Baby was not my best class), birth control discussions, food mention & cooking, Benny and Frankie bear the brunt of the bad jokes, Pope and Carmen and the MVPs, we have more desserts and fluff

Notes: The finale for Frankie and Belinda. I’ve enjoyed writing their story. It had its’s fair bit of mess but at the core were two people who loved each other. I may do a follow up or two because they’re beginning a new chapter. Thank you so much for reading this far. 💕 Happy Frankie Friday everyone! 🥰

Main Masterlist/ Frankie “Catfish” Morales Masterlist/ Only Parts of you Mr. Morales Series

It’s not like Belinda hadn’t pictured herself in this position over the years. She just thought there would be a few steps in a different order. It’s supposed to be a happy moment where she gives Frankie the wonderful news, they celebrate because they’ve talked about it, agreed to it and were doing the whole trying thing. Frankie looks a bit drunk, mostly panicked and like she’s going to float away. His eyes are trained on her and his hands have his cap and his hair in their grips.

“Mi bizcochito (My little cake) please. Don’t say it. Just…I know.”

“You know? What do you know Frankie?” Her eyebrows are halfway up her forehead. She thought she was hiding it well. Of course he knows. He’s Francisco ‘Catfish’ Morales. He still notices when she uses different oils in her hair or changes her fingernail polish. The superb attention to detail that made it impossible to hide how she felt about him for the longest, even when Belinda wanted to pretend like she didn’t or worse when they were trying whatever casual mess they had been doing before. He still knew and that’s why he’d pull away sometimes, though they still ended up coming back together eventually.

“Cariño (sweetheart), you don’t have to worry though. You’ve been changing your clothes. I’m not the same as I once was either. It’s a good thing though. Since we’ve been together, we’ve both become softer, taking care of each other.” He’s explaining, or trying to, that he thinks she is beautiful even if she puts on a few pounds. He has too, Frankie’s aware he has a bit more to grab in the middle.

Belinda covers her face. This is not the right time to have this conversation with him, he is either in denial or really thinks she’s concerned about weight gain, which she isn’t. She just went back to her comfy clothes that she could hide in while she waited for her doctor’s appointment. Which had been today. Standing up and embracing him, she was able to stifle her laugh and kiss his cheek. “You’re right Frankie, we have become softer together. Let’s get you some water, a shower and off to bed.”

Morales allows himself to be taken care of by his bizcochito. He needs to keep the act up until tomorrow morning. It will be Saturday and neither of them have work unless Frankie gets called in. After Belinda falls asleep, he turns off his phone. Might lead to a stern talking to on Monday, but he’d need to ask her what he’d been beside himself to really ask her. Morales is many things but not a fool. He’s staring at the ceiling with the woman he loves laying on his chest, the very same that’s likely carrying his child. ‘Maybe I should have wrapped it up but she said she enjoyed the feeling. I did too.’ He did have to remind Belinda occasionally to take her birth control meds and they did discuss an implant in her arm or an IUD but she was squeamish about anything being surgically put in or being classified as a procedure. Frankie did poke a bit of fun at her considering what she has in her most nights and she told him he was a bad man after slapping his arm.

Maybe he should have pushed harder for it or gotten the snip himself, but neither of them ever mentioned it. Frankie pictured himself with children at one point, early in his service. Before the real combat started before he saw the horrors, it was enough many times just to take care of himself. He couldn’t imagine caring for someone fully dependent on him. Not then. But now? Belinda wrapped an arm around his torso, nuzzling her face into his chest.

“Maybe it will be fine. Maybe I can do it. We’ll be raising the kid together after all. Doesn’t mean I’m not scared shitless. Fuck…” His eyes close and he drifts off to sleep curious how exactly to talk about it with her.

Despite the hangover, Morales is up first, peeling Belinda off of him. Bathroom then coffee. He’s always on coffee duty, so he decided to fix breakfast too. The excuse would be that it’s a Saturday, and she wanted to talk to him about something but he wasn’t aware enough to register anything. The aroma of the coffee calls Belinda. It smells delicious but her stomach turns, she felt like it was a little early for that. She’s at two months according to the doctor and there was a major caveat with that. She googled most of the evening yesterday but didn’t retain a thing. Slipping on a white and navy blue striped t-shirt dress, she made her way to the kitchen.

There stands Francisco, a messy mop of dark curls bouncing on the back of his neck, his gray t-shirt struggling to contain his biceps and shoulders. He was wearing tan cargo shorts that cupped the curve of his ass just right. He’s finishing up the eggs, the bacon is to the side, pancakes are keeping warm in a metal baking pan covered with foil. The table is set with orange juice and syrup already out. If she wasn’t apprehensive about what conversation they were going to have, she’d tell him to cover all the food and head back to the bedroom. This is by far one of the sexiest and sweetest things he does for her: letting her not worry about anything. She’s waiting for his usual line of “breakfast is served mi amor (my love).” That’s not what he turns and says.

Frankie turns to see Belinda watching him with a soft smile. She looks a little tired still, but otherwise fine. He’s happy to cook on days where they stay in and spend time together. It looks like there will be more of these days with a small high chair at one of the sides of the table. It’s out before he can really think about what he said, what it means. “Buenos dias mamá oso (Good morning mama bear)! Breakfast is served!” He has a genuine smile on his face. He was dead serious. Belinda’s hands were on her hips. She knows I knew, welp Fish. Whatever happens, happens. Dammit.

“Good morning Francisco Miguel Valesquez Morales.” She has used his entire name. Frankie is concerned as she walks toward him, the smile gone from her face. “How long have you known? Tell me.”

Frankie sighs and places both palms on the counter behind him, leaning back. “The last few weeks. You’re wearing different clothes I haven’t seen you wear for a while and are a bit more round in the middle.”

“Why didn’t you say anything last night? Why go with that whole ‘we’re both softer’ thing?”

“I mean, I wasn’t wrong. We are both softer. Just for different reasons and not just physically. I’m not cooking breakfast for just any woman I know. Te amo Belinda (I love you Belinda).” Her hands pinch his cheeks while her lips peck his.

“You’d best not Frankie. Te amo mi amor.” She assist and dishing up the plates and the air across from each other, eating breakfast. During a pause, she decides to ask, “Did you know I went to the doctor yesterday?”

“No but are there any issues?” Frankie crosses his arms, there couldn’t be something wrong already right?

Belinda clears her throat and sets her elbows on the table, her chin is on top of her interlocked fingers. “Apparently, and I don’t believe I have any that run in my family, the reason I’m showing earlier than normal. Whatever normal looks like, is because we’re having twins.”

Morales is frozen. He doesn't remember there being any cases of twins that he knows of. His mouth moves but nothing comes out. It’s amazing but doesn’t that mean double everything?! Belinda wonders if the man’s stopped working. It was a shock to her too yesterday. She thought maybe there was a weird shadow or something on the ultrasound but the doctor and nurse pointed out two heartbeats and two babies. It was part of why she’d been sitting to tell Frankie. It was still processing for her too.

“So…but is that okay? For you cariño?” The pilot asked. Pregnancy can be difficult when you’re having one baby. Belinda is carrying two.

“It kinda has to be Fish. I can’t move either baby anywhere else.” She chuckled, understanding his concern. What was her pregnancy going to look like? Everyone’s always different.

“When’s your next appointment? I’m coming with you. I know you won’t remember everything.”

Belinda had fake outrage on her face, gasping and covered her mouth with her hands, “Is that so? How could you! I have my notes from my last appointment. Thank you! Not everything stuck though to be fair.” The smirk on her face as Frankie stood and walked over to her, placing his hands on her shoulders. “I told them I can call next week after checking with you, plus I needed to actually tell you.”

“Well now I know. I’ll let my manager know and it will be fine.” He kisses her forehead, “I’ve got to show up with you to let them know who’s got some strong swimmers. I’m not called ‘Fish’ for nothing.” Belinda pinched his nose, then ruffled his hair.

“Such a horrible man. Who even says that Frankie?” They both laughed while they cleaned up breakfast. Her cheek rested in the middle of Frankie’s back as he washed the dishes. For just a moment before she dried and put them away.

Sunday afternoon at Will and Benny’s, everyone is gathered. All their close friends. Belinda and Frankie had done a video call with her parents who were shocked, ecstatic and wanted to know when they could fly down and visit. Frankie was all for it, Belinda said that she would need to set up the guest room, she didn’t want them coming quite yet. Her Frankie had moved in not too long ago.

Will wasn’t surprised and happy that they actually talked it out.

Benny had to be told not to pick Belinda up and squeeze her. Frankie gave him a death glare.

Pope and Carmen both squealed, gave hugs and started an argument that lead to an intense game of rock-paper-scissors to determine who would be the godparents. In a major upset, Will was knocked out early. Pope and Benny did five rounds before Benny danced away victorious. Was a rendition of the running man necessary? To Benjamin Miller it was.

The joy in sharing the news with everyone eased both of their anxieties for a time.

It was when Belinda was six months along and Frankie was at one of her follow up appointments with the OBGYN. They’d seen the PCP last week. Her blood pressure was high, but not concerning yet according to the MD so she opted to work from home. It helped at first but her blood pressure crept back up. Frankie made her a fluffy spot in their bed surrounding her with pillows, water and snacks. He told her to stay put. Don’t go anywhere except the bathroom and the bed. He’d call to check in on her as she did reports and such from her laptop.

This system worked until month eight. She hated it. She can’t move around, she’s stuck to this bed, concerned about how worried Frankie is about her. Belinda finished her reports early, she was banking all her time to use after her maternity leave. “I need to get out…it’s the same four walls. Just walking down the street should be okay right?” She was just going to walk out in her slides and a simple dress. It was warm but not hot thankfully. Belinda called Carmen to let her know where she was going, she thought about texting Frankie but she didn’t want him worrying anymore than he already was. “Just down the street. Just down the street.” Letting out a long breath, Belinda felt a few kicks as she made it to the end of the driveway. “I know, momma just wanted to move around. Let’s move around together and we can have a little secret from daddy. Until he’s eaten dinner. The truth is best on a full belly.” She chuckled while waddling down the street. Saying hello to a few neighbors in addition to feeling the wind around her body instead of just near a window was something she didn’t realize she missed.

Belinda ended up at the park at the end of the street and sat on a bench. She rested her feet and watched a few children play, curious when she’d be able to bring these two here to play.

Carmen stopped by with groceries l. She thought Belinda would be back by now but she wasn’t. It was an hour and a half since she’d called her to tell her she went for a walk. She called and texted her but she didn’t answer. “Ahh…Belinda. I swear…” She put the groceries away and Belinda returned her call. She’s sobbing and frightened.

“C-Carmen. There’s a bag next to my bed. Pick me up from the park, please. I think…my water broke. I just wanted a walk…to get out. It’s early right? Too early…What if I did something wrong? How will I explain to Frankie that I didn’t listen…?” She paused and it sounds like she’s moving.

“Belinda you’re not still walking are you? Honey don’t worry about any of that, there’s nothing to be done. Just get somewhere you can sit and wait for me. You’re still near the park right?” Carmen hurried to the bedroom and found a black duffel back at the foot of the bed. She grabbed it, made sure she had her purse and locked the front door. She tossed the back in the passenger seat, texted Pope to get Frankie to the hospital immediately and sped toward the park. “Linda you’re still on the line right?!”

“Yes. I found a bench. It hurts to sit. I’m standing and leaning over.” She feels a little woozy but stays on the line. Carmen hops out of the car and ushers her to the backseat laying her down. “I’m sorry. Does Frankie know? Is he coming? I should…” Belinda is dozing a bit, Carmen is yelling at her to stay awake. Within ten minutes, they’re at the hospital.

Frankie is checking gauges in one of the helicopters. Finally off probation, he’s back to flying. Santiago calls three times while he’s trying to focus. “What hermano (brother)? Where’s the fire?” His tone is peppered with a smile.

“Dammit Fish! Answer the first time! Carmen is taking Belinda to the hospital! Her water broke. I’m on my way to get you, Will and Benny will bring your truck over. Grab your shit and meet me out front!” Frankie hopped out of the helicopter, grabbed his bag from his text and told his manager that he was leaving. His twins are coming. Pope was indeed waiting outside. “Look man.” Hopping in his truck, the men took off toward the hospital. “Carmen said that Belinda had trouble staying awake, but it looks like they’re replacing some fluids she said.”

“She’s a month early! Is that bad for her? Is she going to be okay?” Frankie wants his children to be okay, but what is he going to do if she’s not okay, if Belinda isn’t okay. “I should have just told her to be on bed rest. Not even work from home. Pope, what am I gonna do if…”

“Shut up Frankie. Don’t you dare. She’s going to be fine. Your kids are going to be fine. You’re going to see them in the next few minutes and be there with her. Our kids are going to have play dates and I’m going to beat your ass for actually allowing Benny to be your kids’ godfather.”

“He won fair and square Pope. Your bionic ass couldn’t win.” The pilot laughed nervously, he appreciated him trying to calm him.

“My hair and ass are the only things that aren’t bionic, you jerk.” Pope’s smirk lingered on his face as they rounded the corner and pulled up at the ER doors. “I’m still kicking your ass once your girl and your kids are home safe. I’m parking the truck.”

Frankie nodded and ran to the front desk, asked where Belinda’s room and a staff member took him to her room. There was a flourish of noises, Morales couldn’t tell if it was good or bad. He knocked and opened the door.

He was too late.

In each arm, Belinda held a baby boy with dark curls, round cheeks and noses that had a slope to them. His bizcochito (little cake) had two pudíns (puddings). She looked exhausted and was covered in a sheen of sweat, but glowed under the fluorescent lights. He kissed each of his sons and then cupped Belinda’s face, kicking his shoes off and hopping in the hospital bed with her. The nurse warned that since she’s just given birth it’s best to be gentle with her. Frankie nodded. “Gracias mi amor (Thank you my love). You make me whole mi vida (my life). Can I give you and my sons my last name? I’m not going anywhere Belinda. You’re home to me.”

There’s no more anxiety or distress in his face. The lines on his face are from how wide Francisco Morales is smiling, even his eyes look like there might be glimmers in them. She wants to reach for his hair, his nose, run a thumb over his lips. Her sons busy her hands and arms. “I’ve given you two children Morales and heart. I’d better be getting your last name Francisco.” They both laughed, with Carmen hugging Santiago before Will and Benny walked in.

“There’s just so much love in this room. I have one question for you two, which kid is which? Am I the godfather to them both? Do I get to pick one?” Benny stands at the foot of the bed. All the adults in the room groaned and a pillow hit Benny in the face courtesy of Frankie.

Belinda and the babies remained in the hospital as did Frankie except to go home and get changes of clothes. Finally, after a week, they were able to go home. Their little village of friends had set up the cribs, bought pampers, bibs, onsies, toys, blankets, booties, and the newly engaged couple wasn’t sure what the rest was, but they would figure it out.

The night they came home with their sons, Frankie tested out each crib just in case, despite them being put together by Santiago and Will. They were fine. Eventually, both Rafael and Raúl were put down to sleep. Belinda was able to shower finally with Frankie’s help. Laying down in their bed, they watched their sons sleep.

“Everything’s finally fit together for us. It was pretty disjointed for a while there Belinda.”

“Yeah, we should have actually talked about it a lot sooner.”

“Before or after you asked me to move in while you were full?” She pinched Frankie’s nose.

“You’re lucky I’m not supposed to exert myself. Our timing is-“

“Impeccable. Given we’ve got dos pudíns velludos (two hairy puddings).” Frankie kisses her cheek and she tries to hold in her laughter, it makes her stomach and pelvis hurt.

“Do not call our sons hairy puddings. Also, all that hair is from both of us, though it looks like you spat them out.”

“I love them already so they have their nicknames like you do mi bizcochito. You’ll just have to live with it.”

“That’s all I’ve wanted Frankie it wasn’t quite in the order I thought but we’re in this together. I have all of you like you have all of me.”

A night like many to come where they dose off to sleep in each others’ arms and are awakened by one or both of their son’s crying. It’s alright because they work as a team to change, feed and burp them before reading various books. From Dr. Seuss to flight manuals they would impart pieces of themselves onto their children.

There were turns, trips, stumbles and misunderstandings but Frankie and Belinda proved that in spite of their differences and fears, the pieces could be put together to make them a family. Plus two.

VII - Eyes

Fans of the hairy puddings (Code name: R&R) 🍼🍼

@yorksgirl @megamindsecretlair @soft-persephone @soft-girl-musings @guelyury

@bitchwitch1981 @katw474 @rosecentaur1916 @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @trulybetty

@maggiemayhemnj @schnarfer @rav3n-pascal22 @bishtrouille @alltheotps

@pedroshotwifey @readingiskeepingmegoing

[fangirlingfromdownunder]

Comfort in Chastity (or not...)

Summary - Part 21 in the Comfort series

Pairing - Dean Winchester x Reader, Reader x Sam (platonic), Reader x Bobby (father-figure)

Warnings - Smut

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

A/N - G’day guys, got another fun (and heated) chapter for you guys this week. This one wasn’t really planned but it just flowed on from the last one and was a lot of fun to write. Until next week, enjoy! 

When you walk back into your room you find Dean sitting on the bed leaning against the headboard flicking through the TV channels. His hair is a wet mess and he’s only in a pair of black sweatpants. Having already showered when you returned from the hospital you just grab your toothbrush from your bag and quickly brush your teeth leaving the bathroom door open. You were only wearing one of Dean’s flannels and undies so when you leaned over to spit out the toothpaste and rinse you could feel his eyes burning into your exposed upper thighs. Knowing all too well the effect you’re having on you’re extremely flustered fiance you take your hair tie off your wrist as you walk out of the bathroom and “accidentally” drop in on the floor behind you. As you turn around and bend down to pick it up you hear him groan.

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing. Hurry up and join me you naughty little tease.”

“Me? What about you? With your wet hair and those pants and all that bare skin. Maybe it’s best if I sleep in the other bed…you know…just for the sake of your pledge.” You take a seat on the end of the other bed.

“I swear if you don’t get that sexy ass of yours on this bed right this second I’m gonna come over there and get you myself. If I have to do that I promise you’ll feel it the whole drive home.”

“Is that a threat, Winchester?”

“Do you really wanna find out?”

You make a thinking face and tap your chin as you pretend to consider his response. “Maybe…”

After a moment of silence, he groans and throws his head back. “Come on, baby. We’ve been through a lot just come cuddle with me already.”

You give in and join him. He pulls back the blanket and slides in under it, leaving you space to cuddle up next to him. You rest your head on his chest as his fingers trace little patterns on your hip and down to your thighs. Thanks to your nap and meds earlier you’re more awake than ever. And the movement of his fingers on your skin is just making you feel even more awake. The mixture of the teasing from moments before, skin-on-skin contact, and the comfortable air of intimacy and understanding between you leaves you feeling needy. You try to focus on the TV playing Dr Sexy across the room but it’s useless. Your mind can’t focus on anything but the wetness pooling between your legs and the needy feeling in your stomach. In an attempt to calm yourself down, you try to roll over and put some space between yourself and Dean. 

But as you move, his grip tightens, causing you to roll back and involuntarily rub your core against his thick thigh. You let out a tiny moan at the contact, but Dean hears it and gives you a confused look. “You okay?” he asks. Before you get a chance to answer he moves his thigh slightly causing you to moan out again. “All that teasing do something to you, Sweetheart?”

“I’m sorry. Just give me a minute to calm down. I meant what I said about this chastity thing being a good thing.”

“Last I checked you didn’t take any pledge. Did you?” He rolls his thigh against you again making it hard for you to think straight.

You moan out a small “no” at the contact.

“Good. Then there’s no harm in what we’re doing.” He grabs your hips and urges you to straddle his thigh properly. You put your hands on his bare pecs for stability and support. “That’s it, Baby. Just ‘cause I took that pledge doesn’t mean my girl has to suffer. You deserve to feel good and it’s been way too long.” He guides your hips to start moving against his thigh more forcefully. 

You moan out his name as you start to move faster against his thigh. 

“That’s it, Baby. You’re so sexy riding my thigh for your own pleasure like this. I missed seeing you like this. So needy for me.” As the sounds of your moans – littered with his name — fill the room and you start to fall apart on him, he feels so desperate for his own release but he tries to push it down. You start to spasm and lose control of your movements as you feel that familiar tightening in your core. Leaning forward you lean your head against his. He leaves kisses down your neck as he continues moving your hips with his hands. One of your hands starts to rub along his chest and down his stomach before your fingers dip into his waistband. It takes everything he has to grab your hand and bring it back to his chest. “This isn’t about me. Come on. Cum all over my thigh, Baby. Soak these pants for me.”

You dig your nails into his chest and moan out loudly as you feel yourself letting go. You continue to spasm against his thigh as Dean helps you ride out your high. He can’t help but moan and kiss you hungrily when he feels your warm wetness soaking through his pants all over his thigh.

“Holy-that was so hot,” Dean breathes out as you collapse on top of him breathing heavily. Once you’ve regained some of your composure he helps you roll over onto your pillow as he gets up to get a damp cloth to clean you up. He returns moments later carefully cleaning you up before offering you some clean undies to change into while he has a cold shower and changes into some clean pants. When he returns you’re fast asleep. He smiles at your peaceful form as he slips in beside you, cuddles up close, and joins you in the world of dreams.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

You wake up tangled in Dean’s arms; a feeling you have missed so much. “So much for chastity,” you think to yourself. Despite your thoughts, you can’t bring yourself to feel an inch of regret. You roll over carefully so you can look at your fiance’s sleeping face. Knowing how light of a sleeper he is due to his lifestyle you know it won’t be long till he’s awake now that you’ve moved. 

You lightly trace your finger over the outline of his tattoo. The memory of the day you all got them filters through your mind. You’d been carrying the charms around for months but it was so easy to lose them or to hold onto them at all times, so Dean suggested getting the symbol etched into your skin. It’s not like any of you were strangers to pain so you had no arguments. But when you got in the chair you found the pain was different than that of a knife wound or even a gunshot and it went on for so long. Dean opted to go first in an attempt to reassure you. Once he was finally done he sat by your side and held your hand through the pain. You weren’t even dating yet, but he has always been protective and supportive to you. As you think about it now, that was probably one of the first days when you started to realise your feelings for him. While the brothers opted to get their tattoos on their pecs you got yours on your left ankle.

Dean starts to stir beneath you, dragging you out of your reverie. “Good morning, handsome.”

“Morning, beautiful. What’s the time?”

“I don’t know. Sam hasn’t come yelling at us to hit the road so that’s a good sign.”

“He can go whenever he wants. He’s got a car to drive back. And you and I have Baby.”

“Of course. Does that mean I can stay here a little longer?”

“Like I’d let you go anywhere. It’s been too long since I’ve had you in my arms.” He rubs his hands up and down your back.

“Not to ruin the moment, but can I ask…why did you stop sleeping in our bed?”

“It wasn’t that I was avoiding you or our bed necessarily. I wasn’t really sleeping anywhere. Ever since I saw you in that hospital bed it was all I saw when I closed my eyes. And the possibility that I could’ve lost you. I couldn’t protect you…I couldn’t save our baby. That’s all I could think about when I laid down beside you so I’d get up and let you sleep. I didn’t want to disturb you or make it any harder.”

“I understand. But Baby, by shutting me out and leaving me alone, you did make it harder. But thank you for talking to me now. I know we all handle grief in our own ways, but I can’t do this alone. I need you.”

“I got you, I promise. I’m sorry I haven’t been these past weeks but I was just trying not to burden you with my issues.”

“When are you going to learn that this,” you hold up your left hand showing off your ring, “Means that your problems are my problems and my problems are your problems. We share the same problems. Especially this one.”

He leans down to meet your lips in a soft kiss when you’re disturbed by a loud knocking. “Hey lovebirds, Bobby and I are heading out. I’ll see you back at home.”

“Get out of here, Bitch!”

“Jerk! See ya at home, Y/N!”

You give Dean a quick peck on the tip of his nose and then start to roll off of him, but he traps you with his hands on your waist before you can move.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“For a shower. We have to check out soon.”

He pulls you down for one last passionate kiss before releasing his grip. “Fine. I’ll get us some coffee.”

“Can we actually go out for breakfast? I miss our breakfast dates.”

“It’s a date. Hurry up and get ready.”

You climb off the bed and Dean rolls over to slap your ass as you walk away. “Don’t start something you can’t finish, Winchester.”

“I can’t wait until I can call you that too,” he says as you close the bathroom door.

As the warm water cascades down your body you let your mind wander. Maybe you don’t have to wait. Maybe you could get married sooner rather than later and then just continue hunting until you find an escape to start a family. As you lather the soap into your muscles you resolve to discuss it with Dean over breakfast.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

A/N - Welp! That happened… Not sure about Dean’s logic though. What do we think? Did he break his pledge? 

Tag list: (Leave a like or comment on this post or let me know below if you want to be added to the tag list for this series)

@bitchwitch1981, @muhahaha303, @justrealizedimmascifygurl, @mcdowell-123, @leigh70, @marvelsmarauder, @losa12308, @tapedeck-hearts, @luvjaida, @peachtxa, @ambearsstuff, @shadow-of-a-cloud, @slut-for-buck, @iprobablyshipit91, @sassy-pelican, @fallenlilangel99, @heavenlyhopeful0

[snzluv3r]

would love some more of the unrestrained talkies!! or like. loved you writing out the description of your allergies in the store last week 🫣🫣

cw: description of sneezing, mess

noted, thank you anon!! <3

as for the allergy self obs, boy do i have a story for you from this weekend 😭 my friend and i went to this giant farmers market we’ve been eyeing for a while and i ended up having the most embarrassing allergy attack that cut our visit a little short </3 but on the bright side i might’ve discovered a flower allergy??

as usual, my allergies haven’t been giving me much of a break, so i made sure to take my allergy meds that morning before we left and doubled up on tissues just in case (i try to always have a travel pack of tissues in every purse/bag so i’m never caught off guard in public lol) but i was really hoping the pollen wouldn’t bother me if i kept my mask on most of the time and didn’t forget my meds. we had a whole day planned around going to the farmers market and then having a picnic by the water with the stuff we just bought, and i was only mildly sniffly behind my mask for the first 30 minutes or so that we were there. it wasn’t until we stopped at a booth selling plants, seeds, and these gorgeous bouquets from a local nursery that it started to go downhill.

i was a little wary about getting too close to the actual flowers because i could smell through my mask how strong they were and although flowers themselves don’t make me sneeze, the scent does really irritate my nose if it’s strong enough, and my eyes started to water pretty much the second we walked up. i stuck to the side of the stand opposite from the flowers, but the longer we lingered the more the scent started to get to me, and my nose was beginning to run along with my eyes. i was sniffling every few seconds and the burning itch in my eyes was quickly spreading through my nose, my nostrils flaring and twitching as it ran.

i’ve mentioned before that the sensation of having a runny nose behind a disposable mask is one of the worst kinds of teasing, ticklish torture, the smallest fibers on the inside of the mask sticking to an already aching nose. so, the longer i spent scrunching my nose and trying to sniffle back as much mess as i could, the more aware i became of the mask on my face. at one point the tickle got to be so much that i absentmindedly rubbed my nose through my mask without thinking, which irritated the itch so much i ended up sneezing a rapid triple into my elbow only seconds after. to my relief, nobody seemed to notice, but i still felt myself flush at the unexpected loss of control in such a public setting and sniffled quickly, trying to regain control of the tickle. i think the first part of my real downfall was when i decided to take off the mask to wipe my nose, remembering the extra tissues i’d packed in my bag.

of course, just as i was blowing my nose as softly and discreetly (and therefore, ineffectively) as possible, my mask hanging from my ear, my friend popped up behind me out of nowhere and scared three more sneezes out of me.

(i wish i was kidding—she tapped me on the shoulder and i gasped, and the sharp intake of breath reignited the itch, sending me doubling over into my elbow with another rapid triple that i was even more unsuccessful at stifling)

she looked amused and blessed me, giving me a dramatic pout and asking, “allergies?”, to which i blushed even harder and nodded, turning away again to sneeze three more times. thankfully, i was able to stifle those ones, though i instantly felt the allergic tickle travel farther up my sinuses and regretted it. she blessed me again, frowning more sincerely this time and looking me up and down, seemingly assessing the state of my allergic reaction. i started to assure her that i was fine, just a little tickly, when i felt another sneeze coming on.

despite how hard i tried to hold my breath, i started hitching desperately, my still watery eyes overflowing with allergic tears as my breath skipped and i ducked into a fresh tissue, muffling four horribly itchy and unsatisfying sneezes that were immediately followed by more hitching breaths. as i was scrambling for another tissue, rapidly getting to the end of the first travel pack, i realized i had sneezed my mask completely off and it was now in the grass, to my utter disappointment. as itchy as the mask was, at least i could use it to hide some of my allergic discomfort. it also gives me some sense of anonymity when i’m having an allergy attack in public, but it was useless now, and i realized in that moment that as vigilant as i’d been in bringing tissues and taking my meds, i’d forgotten multiple masks. so, not only was i an itchy, allergic mess with a building sneezing fit rising in my throat, but i was also so embarrassed and wanted to literally hide my face in my hands.

i felt my ears and cheeks get even hotter when i heard the vendor and another nearby employee bless me, not even able to get out a shy “thank you” before i was stifling another few sneezes, which quickly turned into a rapid fit of more than ten stifles. more allergic tears were streaming down my cheeks now, and my friend had quickly finished paying for her flowers and rushed to my side, one hand holding a bouquet while the other rested on my back in what i assume was an attempt to steady me (she’s so sweet)

all i could do was keep apologizing through hitching breaths and rapid bursts of sneezes that came in a minimum of threes as i opened the second (and last) pack of tissues, scrambling to cover my nose as i blushed. i don’t remember much after the next fit started, the tickle buzzing behind my eyes and in my nose as i sneezed another 10+ stifles in rapid succession, willing my body to stop being allergic and humiliating me. the next thing i was aware of (besides how much i was sneezing and how much i wanted it to stop) we were away from the stalls/booths and the crowds and my friend was gently pushing me down onto a bench. now that we were away from the majority of people, i did bury my face in my hands, jokingly murmuring that i was “never going outside again.” it was at that point when my friend suggested i might be allergic to the flowers, but i insisted that it wasn’t possible.

“i’ve never been allergic to flowers, i swear. trust me, i know. i’m not allergic to flowers” (which of course prompted her questioning how i know i’m not allergic to flowers…)

despite being away from the booth and all of the extremely beautiful but very perfumed flowers, my allergies seemed to be getting worse. sneezes were coming even closer together, my nose was stuffy and simultaneously running more than i could keep up with, and my eyes were so irritated that i had started to rub at them, which i’m sure only made my appearance that much worse. i couldn’t shake the feeling that a thousand grains of pollen were coating my eyes and nose, and when i wasn’t sneezing or sniffling i was gasping and hitching in the most embarrassing, desperate buildups. the sneezes were now impossible to stifle and according to my friend, there was a good five minutes where i just sneezed without stopping, the most she’s “ever seen me sneeze” in her life, apparently. she was being so sweet and rubbing my back and offering to throw away her flowers but i was still insisting that i’m not allergic to flowers and never have been…

after probably 20 minutes of that initial allergy attack, the sneezes were coming far enough apart that i felt comfortable enough to go to the park and have the picnic we had planned. my eyes were so itchy and swelling a little and i was so stuffy i couldn’t breathe through my nose, so i took some of the emergency benadryl i’d brought with me. i was so embarrassed and felt guilty that i’d cut our time at the farmers market short because of my allergies, so i was determined to push through for the rest of the day. despite my immense discomfort and the fact that i was still sneezing every five minutes or so, i assured my friend that i was fine and wanted to stay out. i think she believed me at first, but we were only out on our picnic blanket for about ten minutes before the rapid sneezing fits started up again, this time accompanied by itchy coughing that was impossible to restrain.

this time, my friend insisted on throwing away the flowers (gonna cry i feel so bad), saying how she would bet money that i was allergic to something in that bouquet. which, to be fair, i was starting to agree with her. the closer i got to the flowers, the more my eyes stung and burned, the tickle in my nose intensifying. i was also starting to get drowsy from the benadryl which made it harder to stifle, sneezes starting to catch me off guard as they came closer together again. i ended up having another rapid fit for several minutes, going through the last of my tissues as i sneezed and coughed. when i started wheezing a little, my friend insisted we go home and i (sleepily and drugged up) agreed, sniffling and sneezing the entire way home on the train and in her car.

i was so tired from the benadryl that i was barely even embarrassed about how much i sneezed on the train, and at one point i fell asleep on my friends shoulder 😭 when i got home i felt so bad that i ruined our outing that i texted her and asked if she wanted to go again another time when my allergies aren’t so bad, and she replied

“only if you admit that you’re allergic to flowers, and we agree to stay away from anyone selling them” 😭🥺

so yeah there is some allergy self obs i apologize for all the unnecessary details i hope this isn’t boring and you like it !!

[the-conversation-pod]

Welcome Back My Boyfriend!

AND WE'RE BACK!

It's finally time to discuss Our Skyy 2! We were playing hurt this night: Ben was still recovering from dental surgery (please forgive his voice during this episode) and Nini was nursing a headache. Still, it didn't stop us from discussing all eight shows and talking about the crossover for an hour!

Nini and Ben assess the entirety of Our Skyy 2 and rank the offerings from worst to first.

Listen on Apple Podcasts

Listen on Google Podcasts

Timestamps

The timestamps will now correspond to chapters on Spotify for easier navigation.

0:00 - Welcome 1:15 - Intro 6:07 - Vice Versa 14:23 - Star in My Mind 19:20 - Never Let Me Go 28:00 - A Boss and a Babe 36:45 - The Eclipse 49:50 - My School President 1:00:24 - Badd Buddy x A Tale of Thousand Stars 1:59:13 - Overall Score for Our Skyy 2

The Conversation: Now With Transcripts!

We received an accessibility request to include transcripts for the podcast. We are working with @ginnymoonbeam on providing the transcripts and @lurkingshan as an editor and proofreader.

We will endeavor to make the transcripts available when the episodes launch, and it is our goal to make them available for past episodes. When transcripts are available, we will attach them to the episode post (like this one) and put the transcript behind a Read More cut to cut down on scrolling.

Please send our volunteers your thanks!

0:00 - Welcome

Nini

Hello, hello! Your QL fandom aunty and uncle are here with giant sunglasses, brown liquor in a flask, a folded five-dollar bill to slip into your hand when no one is looking, lukewarm takes, occasional rides on the discourse, deep dives into artistry and the industry.

Ben

Lots of simping! I’m Ben.

Nini

I’m Nini.

Ben

And this is The Conversation. About once a season, we plan to swan in and shoot the shit on faves, flops, and trends that we’ve been noticing in the BL, GL, or QL Industry. Between seasons, you can find us typing way too many words on Tumblr.

1:15 - Intro

Nini

Hi, Ben. How are you tonight?

Ben

I'm battling my own body's slow recovery from dental surgery but it doesn't matter because we have so much to record so we're sticking to the schedule!

Nini

But, we're gonna be okay. You've got meds, I've got meds—a.k.a. beer—for this headache. We're gonna be fine. We're doing it live. So, what are we talking about tonight? We are talking about Our Skyy 2… What a journey. Ben, explain to the people the concept of Our Skyy.

Ben

Welcome back, my boyfriend! That's it. 

Nini

[laughs]

Ben

Jojo started this off and summed it up perfectly. Our Skyy originally served as a sort of epilogue project for the initial run of GMMTV BLs. 

In the first run we had the Puppy Honey crew with OffGun, the SOTUS pair with Krist and Singto, the InSun pair from My Dear Loser: Edge of 17, Tay and New from Kiss the series—before Dark Blue Kiss, and Drake and Frank from My Tee a.k.a. ‘Cause You're My Boy.

Nini

So, that's the concept of Our Skyy. So, when GMMTV put out its 2023 offerings last year: Surprise! Our Skyy 2. They are giving us epilogues for 2020, 2021, and some 2022 shows. We're gonna dive into these.

Ben

With the original Our Skyy it was kind of chaotic. So, every crew kind of just did what felt right for their characters. 

Like, Pete and Kao basically went on a date that was mostly uncomplicated—something their characters needed. 

OffGun did a body swap which was just so they could let Gun pick on Off for a bit. 

In and Sun got closure—unsurprising, Aof was on that one. 

‘Cause You're My Boy: they just kind of did just a hot mess that was weirdly endearing, which is exactly what their show was. 

And SOTUS did like the the next most logical thing for Arthit and Kongpob, which was them kinda saying goodbye as they were heading into a long distance form of their relationship because Kongpob was pursuing higher schooling outside of Thailand, if I remember correctly?

In a similar vein, this particular Our Skyy run that we're going to be talking about very much captured what I think the core spirit of the original work was, and each team came back to it—for the most part—with something to say that was consistent with their original offerings. 

Nini

Yep.

Ben

We went Never Let Me Go, Star in My Mind, The Eclipse, Vice Versa, My School President, A Boss and a Babe, Bad Buddy? and then A Tale of Thousand Stars.

Nini

I also think that the airing order was very interesting and maybe we'll get a little time to talk about how they chose to air what they did when they did. This Our Skyy, I think, wanted to lean a little bit into the crack. Every single outing had a little bit of a crack element to it—and I quite like that. I enjoyed that. I had fun with that—for the most part—and we'll get to the ones where I did not enjoy that.

Ben

I do think that the Our Skyy project leans into fan service, and not in an inherently negative way? They want the people who enjoyed this show to have fun coming back to the show, and it’s been notable for me that, for the most part, I found that if someone really liked the original show they also really liked their Our Skyy outing. So like, for those of you who've listened to me or followed me, you know what shows I didn't like or despised when they aired and—unsurprisingly—my takes are fairly consistent.

Nini

Maybe it's the corners of the internet that I've been perusing, which you always tell me to stop looking at…I feel like the more that people liked the OG show the more upset they were with the Our Skyy. Maybe that's just the people are being wrong on the internet corners of the internet that I like to occasionally look through. [laughs]

Ben

[laughs] I don't go there.

6:07 - Vice Versa

Nini

Let's delve into it. Let's start talking some specifics. So, if we're going from worst to first my worst without a doubt was the Vice Versa Our Skyy. I am on record as not having watched Vice Versa because I was not interested in Vice Versa. I have tried and failed so many times with Jittirain stories that I knew that I was not going to enjoy this one, and so I never watched the original. But, for the sake of the podcast, I watched every single Our Skyy including this one, except I did not finish this one. [laughs] I started watching it. I was mostly annoyed, and then something happened that just… I just said, “Oh, absolutely not,” and I stopped watching it.

So, the trope—the, the crack trope—for the Vice Versa Our Skyy; the fan fic-y, fan service-y trope is: Add a Kid. I think it's Puen? Puen and Talay have been together for a while now. They're working hard, working a lot. They don't have as much time for each other. And so Talay comes up with the idea of doing a month of special days where they pay very close attention to each other and they do special things together. And it's a really sweet idea and honestly if that had been it I would have been fine. There would have been no problem. 

But then they add a kid, and the way that they add a kid is what pisses me off. One of their friends… essentially delivers his nephew into the care of these strangers… so that they can play house? But it's also like a trick that Puen is playing on Talay. Because this kid just shows up at the house and Talay thinks that it might be his kid. Like, the, the setup of Vice Versa has always—as I have said before—every time I think I know what Vice Versa is about, Ben lets me know that I don't actually know what Vice Versa is about. But there's some way that Talay thinks that this kid is his somehow.

Ben

Would you like the context for why he believes that kid is his?

Nini

Sure, hit me with it!

Ben

So, they basically spend two years in the other world with Nanon and Ohm’s characters in their bodies. Ohm's character, Tess, is an asshole who absolutely ruined Talay’s life for the two years he was in his body. He sabotaged and ruined every personal and professional relationship that Talay had. 

When he got back to his own body he had to spend years fixing his own life. Which sucks, because while he was in Tess's body he basically fixed Tess's life. It's really upsetting for me that Puen, who claims to love Talay, who watched him suffer for all of the things that Tess did to his life would genuinely let Talay believe that Tess saddled him with the responsibility of an unplanned kid… because he thinks his boyfriend doesn't pay enough attention to him… like he makes his boyfriend work outside in a tent in Thailand to do graphic design on an iMac.

Nini

You were really really mad about the tent. [laughs] I remember when we were watching this. You were really pissed about the tent.

Ben

I'm—I'm not over it.

It's humid in Thailand! Why would he be outside with a Mac? Oh my God—

It's frustrating because… On the one hand, I understand the impulse of, like, how do we get these guys to consider a new form of domesticity together? But, like, why do we have to use an actual child? Why can't we use, like, a dog, or a cat? Not coercing a child into letting strangers bathe him, and treat him like he's their son, and sleep with him in their bed. It’s so, so weird… and really unhinged… and it made me like a bunch of characters even less than I already did! 

It was aggravating. It's frustrating because Puen did this through the whole show. Like, he doesn't trust Talay. He lies to him. He manipulates him. Talay and he are both in entertainment and Talay was against a huge deadline the night of Puen’s birthday, and he couldn't take a break from his work to meet his deadline to go do flirty, boyfriend things with Puen. 

Puen expressed this frustration directly the next day in a way that I thought was totally valid and then Talay goes, ‘You are correct. Here is the plan I've come up with for us to make sure that we don't take our own relationship for granted, and keep working at it.’ And they have a really great month doing cute boyfriend date things while trying to maintain their careers. And so the whole secret baby felt completely unnecessary. 

Like, we need something to happen for the plot to justify Jimmy, Neo, Aou, and Sea hanging out together. So, we have to introduce a secret baby, I guess? 

I hated it…[laughs] Like, people joke that I don't often give low scores because I don't usually watch crap. Like, if something is, like, really really bad out of the gate I am like, “Oof! I don't have time for this!” and I'll usually drop it these days, because I got too much to do. But, like, I gave the show a 3 because I was deeply put off by the coercion of a child and the audacity of it all. Because, like, you know what your boyfriend went through because of Tess. 

Why would you pull on that really traumatic thread from five years ago and make him believe that Tess had done this to him as well—knowing that Talay has a strong sense of responsibility, and would of course try to do right by a potential child. 

Like, it's hard to even talk about, like, any of the cute relationship things that may have come out of this because, like, they should divorce.

Nini

I did not enjoy this when it was revealed that the kid was…tricked. I turned it off, and I did not watch the end. 

For every special of Our Skyy, I gave it a drama score and a crack score. My drama score for this was a -5, because I was entirely unamused—like wholly unamused. This is not what I came to see in any way. I don't care if the kid is cute. I don't care if they're all cute together. They're literally using a child to fix their relationship—

Ben

And, explicitly, the child's parents did not know that this was happening.

Nini

—which makes it worse! So, I gave it a drama score of a -5, which is of course an overreaction but it's still getting a 0. Crack score, I gave it a 10, because it is actual crack? Like, this is probably the crackiest thing that happened in all of Our Skyy. But…it's not enjoyable as crack! So, let's give it a… 5 for crack… So, 0 for drama, 5 for crack gives it a score of 2.5, which sounds about correct.

Ben

Yeah, not good. 

Nini

Yeah.

Ben

Pass.

Nini

Not good. Tens or chops? One chop! 

Ben

Two chops!

[both laugh]

14:23 - Star in My Mind

Nini

Let's leave Vice Versa behind in the dustbin where it belongs and let's move on to the next on the list: Star in My Mind. Hoo! 

Ben

[laughs]

Nini

Ben, I can't even remember what happened, I was so bored watching these episodes, like, dead bored. Star in My Mind is also a show that I did not watch the OG show. So, I had no idea what it was about and was going in blind. And, I think that I was correct to not watch the OG show, because… if it was anything as boring as this, I didn't need to see it.

Ben

[sighs] So, the Star in My Mind special is basically just the gang going on a little vacation together, and then New tries to subvert the “You're together now. Let's throw in a jealousy element bit.” Like, you put a note on here that the trope for this one is “trick your friends into going on vacation.” 

So, their friends try to tease Daonuea into believing that maybe Kluen has eyes for some girl, and Daonuea gets jealous about this, and then a fight ensues and the friends get all upset. But we in the audience know that the guys are faking this fight. They knew what their friends were up to, but they were kind of flaking on this vacation. So, he uses this fake fight to force them to go on vacation with them. 

Whatever. 

Like, I think the part of this that was cute was New just throwing away the whole jealousy trope for BL, and then having the gay characters just be like, ‘Yeah, this is stupid. Anyway, we're going to absolutely use this against them because these bitches will not buy their tickets and I'm [gonna] force them to.” And, like, that part was kind of fun.

I'm in my breakup era with New right now. I can see, again, him trying to do something here. New is currently over BL. He’s tired of it. You can feel that in Star in My Mind. Like, he's completely bored with all of this. And so what could have been, like, at least a cute trip, just looks like five straight dudes hanging out in the woods for like an hour.

Nini

I think my notes say “it's two hours of a bunch of dudes vibing without vibes.”

Ben

Yeah, like, it wasn't great, and I don't really like coming for actors like that. But, Dunk is still uncomfortable with on-screen intimacy—or at least it feels like he is—particularly compared to Joong, who does not suffer from being camera shy when it comes to this kind of work. And so while I've seen them in behind-the-scenes stuff, and their variety stuff, and Joong and Dunk are great bros, I'm still struggling with Dunk as a romantic lead because he doesn't kiss well.

Nini

New didn't even phone this in. Like, I think he sent an email? Maybe it was a snail mail. 

This was just—it was boring, which I think might be worse than bad? What do we even say about it? 

Ben

Nothing! There is nothing to say! Like, Pawin was there. He didn't kiss anybody. [laughs]

Nini

I mean… that's really all that you can say about it. It was a waste of Pawin, like.

Probably the only thing that I enjoyed about this was Joong's several pissy faces when Khabkluen is salty because all his straight friends keep interrupting his gay couple time to hang out when all he wants to do is make out. And, like, the pissy faces that he makes are delightful, and they're the only reason this has a score. 

I give it a drama score of 3, because what was it even about? And I gave it a crack score of 4, and all four of those points are for Joong's pissy faces which I thoroughly enjoyed. So, It was a 3.5 for me not because it was bad but because it was boring.

Ben

I think a show has to be offensive to me in some way for me to go lower than 6 and Star in My Mind is not. It's just boring and because I've been in these gay streets a long time, I've been offended. A lot. And, I will accept boring. It's a 6. It's forgettable. We don't have to talk about it anymore.

Nini

And we will not.

Ben

[laughs]

19:20 - Never Let Me Go

Nini

We're going to move on to the actual fun and interesting ones now. [laughs] There's a definite quality bar in Our Skyy 2. There are Vice Versa and Star in My Mind, which are below the quality bar. And then there's everything else, which is above the quality bar. Now, we're talking about games of inches here. 

Never Let Me Go. So, the Never Let Me Go fanfic trope for Our Skyy was they did a time travel story that was also a—.

Ben

Fated mates.

Nini

—that was also a fated mates, and also a role reversal, and also like a body hopping. Like, there were—there was a lot going on here. It was not boring. Everybody was clearly having a fabulous time making this. And, I actually really enjoyed it. It was two episodes. I could have watched maybe four to six episodes of this no problem.

This was actually incredibly interesting. It was a lot of fun. Pawin, and Pond especially, clearly had a great time. 

Ben

That's true.

[both laugh]

Nini

Pond had a fabulous time. So, the plot of the Never Let Me Go special… You go ahead.

Ben

All right. So, it's been a couple of years since we left the boys in Never Let Me Go, and Nuengdiao has been studying elsewhere. He's coming back to Thailand, and Palm has quietly been setting up shop in Bangkok so that when Nuengdiao comes back to Thailand he can be closer to him. He doesn't want to just stay out by the beach because he wants to see his boyfriend more. 

[Cat begins wailing in the hallway near Ben’s mic]

Nuengdiao was a little bit caught off guard by this, and didn't like him making decisions for them. They run into a fortune teller who tells them that if they don't fix what was originally broken, they won't make it in this life, either. And then the fantasy hijinks kick in, where they are sent back in time to their original pairing… into the bodies of their past selves. And in their past—in their first past together where they become a couple—Palm is the rich lord, and Nuengdiao is essentially sold to him as a slave. Also, Pawin is there in an earlier version of his character. 

And so they have to play their roles. Palm is having way too much fun bossing Nuengdiao around. And also just trying to have sex with him in the past. Over the course of this they end up realizing that they have to help Pawin’'s character hook up with Mark Pahun's character, and so all of the girlies who've been waiting for that ship to reunite were fed. 

Nini is correct. Like, this ended up being really fun, because we got to see Palm and Nuengdiao kind of become like the gays who have it together for other gays.

Nini

It had that crack story but there was also another story going on alongside the crack which I really enjoyed—building on Nungdiao and Palm's actual OG series story—which is that Nuengdiao believes that Palm should make his life about himself, that he should make his decisions about the things that he wants to do without considering Neung. And that they can still be together but Palm shouldn't plan his life around him. When he comes back to Bangkok, it's to tell Palm essentially that he's decided that he's gonna stay away for a longer period of time. He's gonna do graduate school as well. 

And, this is actually a conflict between them that sort of leads into the whole time travel thing, but it's actually a really interesting conflict between them because it builds on their series story in a really interesting way. I enjoyed watching them navigate it and figure it out while they were also navigating and figuring out how the hell to get out of the past. I mean the internal logic of the story just about holds together. It's fun. It's enjoyable. It's emotional. 

Ben

If he looks at you for seven seconds he's into you and we're all like rooting for this under an umbrella.

Nini

It's fun. It's cute. It's got a little bit of a message to it. It's enjoyable. The characters feel like themselves. At one point we get a little montage of smash cuts of Nueng and Palm: they alternate crying over each other's dead bodies through the ages.

Ben

One of them definitely felt like a nod to Aof’s work where Jojo was poking fun at him.

Nini

They were actually dressed like Jim and Wen in Moonlight Chicken complete with Phuwin wearing sunglasses, his corpse wearing sunglasses at night when he's dead and Pond crying over him. It was really funny. It was delightful. That little smash cut montage was really fun and actually upped the crack score a little. Time travel is crack, no way about it. I was fully going to give it a good crack score anyway. But that little sequence upped the crack score by at least a point. It was just very funny. 

And then watching Pawin overexaggerate his “khrub’s” and fall in love with Mark Pahun's character, who's like a jewelry seller at the market. And then when they come back to the present and he's Phum again, they meet Phum at the house—which has been maintained—the lord's house has been maintained throughout the ages.

Ben

Because it had been passed down to his ancestors’ family now because they were all, like, gay besties together.

Nini

Yeah, and like, Phum and Mark Pahun's character are together in this life, too—and they're really cute—and Phum's like, “Yeah, I was a shit to you in high school. I'm sorry about that.” [laughs] It was nice. It was fun. It was enjoyable. I gave it a drama score of 7.5—I think that's reasonable for it. I gave it a crack score of 8.5 so it works out to an 8 for me, which I liked. I liked it.

Ben

I really liked a lot of this. I liked how much fun Phuwin and Pond had in the traditional garb that they were wearing. I like how much fun they had with how often they had to be shirtless. I really enjoyed them writing vows to each other in the past because they didn't know if they would be able to escape. Basically fully committed to each other. That was really beautiful, and not something I expected from Jojo. I was really surprised that Jojo did something that genuinely tender. That really worked for me.

I gave it an 8. It's one of those 8’s where it's, like, if you liked Never Let Me Go, this is going to make it feel a little bit better because the idea that the drama of Never Let Me Go is yet another instance of these two characters trying to be with each other across space and time is super romantic—and that's the kind of shit I love in my big dramas. And I was not expecting this particular show to make me go, “Wow,” [sighs] and look back at the, the original show and go, “Okay. I can see that.”

It was deeply enjoyable. If you liked Never Let Me Go enough, and you feel mildly dissatisfied by it, and you just kind of want some closure to walk away from, watch the special. I felt very good about Palm and Nuengdaio by the end of that, because they felt a little bit more grown. And I kind of like where they left the characters with Palm just being like, “Whatever, I have a rich boyfriend and I've worked very hard. I'm just gonna go hang out with you in Germany for a little while, and then we'll figure it out from there.” And I'm like, more power to you, bro.

Nini

It seemed like yes that they were just going to vibe and enjoy each other, And, after everything that those two went through? Sure! That seems like a great place to leave them. 

28:00 - A Boss and a Babe

Nini

Also in the, for me, 8 category—so there is a tie here—A Boss and a Babe. This kind of…surprised me, because I ended up, with the OG show, being really disappointed by where we landed with it. But I really liked the Our Skyy.

Ben

This is a little bit weird because I think in terms of whenever the rest of you hear this. We're actually, I think releasing this before the episode where we talk about A Boss and a Babe. So, spoilers, a bit, for that particular episode, but, uh, we were…less than impressed with A Boss and a Babe. 

Nini

For sure.

Ben

However, we actually had a decent time with their Our Skyy outing. Nini why don't you walk us through the setup for this particular outing. 

Nini

So, the fanfic trope for the A Boss and a Babe outing of Our Skyy is, I guess, “walk a mile in my shoes” kind of thing? Gun and Cher are happy together. They're sweet loving boyfriends… but the office is in shambles. Because Gun is stressed out and he's stressing everybody at work out. And because Cher knows everybody at work because he used to work there, he has been hipped to the fact that his man is stressing everybody else. And so he goes on a mission to try to get his man to stop stressing everybody at work out. 

So, trying to make him understand that he needs to dial it the fuck back. And the way that he eventually comes up with after trying a few other ways, is that they are going to spend a day walking a mile in each other's shoes. So, he is going to spend a day being the boss, and Gun is going to spend a day being the intern so that Gun gets an idea of the stresses that his employees go through. And Cher is just like whatever I'll just be the boss, and Gun is like, “Oh, it's not as easy as you think.” 

And it actually turns out really fun and interesting to watch them do this. Of course it's a weird, horny sex thing because everything is a weird, horny sex thing with these two. But [laughs] it's, it's fun. It's light. It's interesting. It's…enjoyable. It's a strong conflict. It's a stronger conflict than we get in the actual OG series. It works. I think it's that because it's so short New doesn't really have time to fuck it up.

Ben

[laughs] So, like, I was frustrated because Gun’s being kind of a difficult boss, but being fairly reasonable about why he's a difficult boss. He's like, “We work in a difficult industry where we spend a great deal of time working on something, and then we release it to the public, and then it can flop. And so I have been funding people's jobs for anywhere from two to 12 months working on a project, and we really need strong turnaround for this because these people's jobs are riding on the success of this. So they do need to take their jobs seriously, and when they are given feedback or are given specific directives, they need to accomplish those directives.” 

There's like really interesting tension there between, like, the boss's perspective of, “Y'all can be mad at me, but you want me to cut your checks, right?” versus, “Bro, we are not going to work well under these fucking conditions.” Like, that tension was delivered really well! Gun's perspective comes through in a way that doesn't feel pandering to anyone, and I was like he is a little bit off base in the way he talks to people, but the things he's concerned about are valid for where he sits.

It just pissed me off low-key because, like, we never figured out what Thyme’s whole deal was in the original show. Like, his friend who used to be part of the company. And it feels like that was his job here—was to be like the bridge between Gun and the team. To translate Gun’s directives and frustrations into directives for the team so they could accomplish them and to keep the team motivated. And, like, Cher was helping with that for a while but now that Cher is, like, doing other stuff, like, that has gone away. That's the biggest thing with this one. Like, this was such a solid concept that it made me even more annoyed at how the OG show just sort of fumbled every thread that they were holding.

Nini

Yeah, I have to agree. Like, the workplace conflict on this was really strong and solid, and the workplace stuff in the OG show was kind of weak. And part of the workplace stuff that was great in this was showing that, yeah, Gun does need a balancing force at work. But also, aside from that, surprisingly, Cher is not an idiot. [laughs] Like, Cher is actually pretty competent. He's not, like, ready, clearly, to be the boss of a place like this. But he's not an idiot. 

Like, one of the things that happens is that Gun tries to set him up a little bit by having, like, a client come in and try to, like, have a discussion and talk to him about, like, partnering on a game or something and like talking about ideas and all that kind of stuff. And at first you think that Cher is going to blow it. But then he delivers. He comes into the meeting. You know, he takes a minute to get his bearings and understand what's going on, but then he has actual good ideas? And he can speak to the people in a way that works for the business. 

So, it shows they could probably at some point in the future after Cher has learned more, they could probably run the business together. Because I think that they bring the different perspectives that's required, but, just like Ben said, that also makes me, like, really mad that we didn't get more of the Thyme stuff in the OG series because, to me, that feels like this was what Thyme’s role was. And that just completely got cast aside. So, on the one hand, I thought this was actually pretty good but, on the other hand, it made me think even less of the OG series and I was already struggling with the OG series.

Ben

[sighs] And that's where we are. It sucks because, like, again, like, Force and Book are good. And the cast of this particular show? Very good. They hold together an otherwise weak show but, man, you just really want to see what that cast looks like when they have a really good show under their belt.

Nini

Yeah, and this gives you, like, a kind of an ‘in’ to that. So my score: this was drama score of 8 because I thought it was a solid conflict. Well executed. I give it a crack score of 8 because, quite honestly, once the whole role reversal thing started. Like, if I worked for Gun’s company, I would have taken, like, vacation until that was over because it was just…It was a little too “bring your kinks to work” for me personally. 

[both laugh]

I would have been like, yeah I don't need to see this. I'm gonna take a day off, and tomorrow when I come back, hopefully everything will be normal. Combined like drama score 8 crack score 8 average 8. What did you give it? 

Ben

I gave it an 8, and we were joking with some of our other friends about how most of us gave it an 8, and I think it was ginnymoonbeam who was like, “We all gave it an 8, but these are all very different 8s.”

[both laugh]

Nini

Yes, that is definitely true. These are different 8s that we are giving it. My 8 is like, “Damn it. Now I got to go back and revise my score of the OG series and put it even lower.”

36:45 - The Eclipse

Nini

Moving along from the 8s and now we're starting to get into the top of tops. The top top top tops of the Our Skyy pantheon for me. And next up is The Eclipse. Ben, I'm [gonna] need you to give the people what we're talking about here.

Ben

The Eclipse picks up, it feels like, the summer after the boys have graduated from high school. So, they're away from Suppalo—we're not going to deal with any of the Suppalo nonsense anymore. It's just the two couples, Wat, and…Pawin's character for some reason, because he's always palling around them. They're getting together to help Wat shoot for a film project that he wants to submit to a competition. But we pick up, originally, with Akk and Ayan who were doing boyfriend things, and we are seeing the ongoing deprogramming of Akk continuing. And over the course of the filming for this, we see that Akk and Ayan are basically stand-ins for Golf's very complex ideas about the way our private and public lives inform each other, and how both are inherently political. 

Akk and Ayan over the course of this are having a struggle about whether or not they should care what other people think. Akk thinks that to be part of a civil society you do have to care about how your actions and behaviors impact other people. Ayan, who has seen what a civil society does to people, thinks that that is bullshit and that he should be more concerned about himself and the people he cares about, and not the nebulous feelings of others. And then calls Akk directly out at one point about how his concern for others turned him into the worst version of a cop possible.

And it gets really ugly when they're working on Wat’s film project. These two are having a truly fundamental struggle about whether or not the two of them are even compatible because they do not see eye-to-eye politically. You get the sense that Ayan hoped that, once freed from the Suppalo prefect thing, Akk would start to see things more his way. And Akk hoped that Ayan would stop fighting with him so much, because Akk really just wants to do soft, cuddly things with his boyfriend. But Ayan gets off on fighting with Akk. [laughs] So he is always antagonizing him for sex reasons. 

Nini

It's one of those early relationship conflicts when you're still figuring out how to be with each other. When you're dating at the beginning, you put your best foot forward. In this case, with the two of them, they put their absolute worst foot forward when they were getting together. But there's still that thing about the version of you when you're courting is…different, somewhat, than the version of you when you're not courting. For them, the issue is the version of them when they were courting was exactly who they are, but they didn't think that that was who they were. 

So, like you said, Ayan really thought that out of the pressure cooker of Suppalo, Akk would be a different person, and then he's, like, coming to realize: No, this is really just who he is. And Akk is having that same realization about Ayan. They have to decide essentially—and they do decide via Wat's film—whether what they are to each other is worth bridging that gap between them. The answer that they come to is: yes it is—in a really phenomenal scene that I enjoyed so much.

Ben

Let me tell you. First and Khaotung are just really, really good together. Like, it's amazing how they can play these two characters coming to a precipice of fundamental political disagreement to the point that they looked at each other and they're like, “Is this really who I'm going to be with?” And you can see this almost weird resignation as they turn to face each other and embrace, where there are no easy answers to this. 

They don't see eye to eye politically on a lot of really fundamental things, and yet they still want to choose each other each time. And that is delivered so well. Like, it's hard to watch The Eclipse with your brain off. I watched a lot of people try to do it during the original show and they struggled, because it is not a brains-off show. Golf has a lot to say about the state of their country and is using whatever platform they have to voice some of these ideas, most notably about how sitting on your phone writing mean tweets is not action. That you need to get into the work. That you have to get into the streets with other people. You have to participate in the work. Even if it's just in the support of getting the people who do do the work the tools and food they need to do the work. 

And it's really fascinating that even in this little two-part special, which as far as some people thought, was just First and Khaotung making out for two hours because these boys kissed a lot in this special, they managed to say a lot. Golf managed to express their deep love of Thai cinema with the references that Wat was playing out. 

It also managed to get across how much these two boys really like each other, and it was kind of fun to see Akk and Kan working their way out of their internalized homophobia. Like it was not surprising to me that Akk and Kan wanted to do a lot of touching with their boyfriends. 

Nini

I really liked how it all came together: how Golf used their love of not just Thai cinema but queer cinema to sort of pull the threads together of the fight that Akk and Ayan were having. The petty fight and the serious fight, because they were having a fight on two levels. They were having a petty fight about—well, maybe not petty—but they were having a surface level fight about Ayan   paying attention to Akk and being lovey-dovey and soft with him, versus Ayan wanting Akk to be tougher with him because that's what he likes. And then that going to the deep level of the political, and then, on top of that, that being pulled together by the concept of film. And then even throwing in for us a little side story about Wat and what film means to him, and how he's not necessarily supported by his family—but he kind of is a little bit but mostly not—and how he has things to say and he feels strongly about those things

Like, they managed to do a lot with very little in this special and I really, really enjoyed it. It was very deep for what it was. Very thinkable piece. I really liked it. And then on top of that, they also get to have a little bit of coming-of-age nostalgia moments about leaving high school and moving into the real world. There's so much packed into those two hours. I was really impressed with how much they managed to get in there and have it feel organic.

Ben

I was incredibly impressed by this entire outing.

Nini

I liked the special on its own. I liked it in connection to the OG show. I liked it as a continuation of the OG show. I liked the things that it had to say and the way that it carried through its themes. I was impressed by how much it managed to fit in. I gave it a drama score of 9.5. I really thought it was very, very good.

Ben

But there was singing so she took half a point.

[both laugh]

Nini

I gave it a crack score of 8. The trope really was I guess “secret surprise” because the frame that this is all put in is Ayan preparing a surprise for Akk’s birthday, but it's a secret surprise where he's pretending that he doesn't remember and he's not going to celebrate Akk’s birthday, which is a little weird which is why I took the half point off really, because I hate that secret surprise trope.

Ben

It's one of those things where I don't really like it for Akk, but if fits with Ayan’s sort of, like…Ayan is the queer kid who reads too much theory. Like, he knows more than you. And so he doesn't always see you, specifically. Like, he outs Thua in the first show thinking he's helping him. Like, he kind of is but, like, he outs Thua and oversteps, and it's the same thing here with Akk. Like, he wants to surprise Akk. Like I don't think you should be surprising Akk, because so much of his Suppalo experience is about being guided by the things that are not being said that he's supposed to just interpret. 

If you're trying to deprogram him, you need to not do that to him. And the reason why, like I—I mostly let it go is because, as dense as Ayan can kind of be because he's too fucking smart for his own good, when Akk admitted in, like, the first fifteen minutes of the show that he hoped that they were gonna do cute boyfriend frolicking in the fields and taking pictures together, and Ayan was like, “Oh, I thought you were just kidding about that.”  

And Akk was like, “No! I was serious.” 

It's like, “All right? Well shit! Grab your camera!” And they frolicked! 

Nini

[laughs]

Ben

He gave his boyfriend the cute boyfriend shit he wanted to do, even if he teased him a little bit about it first.

Nini

I did like that too. I like that they don't have it together yet but they're willing to listen, and they're willing to do what it takes, I think. But, like I said, I'm knocking out a half a point for the secret surprise because I hate that trope. The crack score is an 8 because there's these set of dream sequences which are homages to Thai film and queer film, and I thought they were delightful. There's the Brokeback Mountain one and then there's the Golden Eagle one which is a Thai film then there's the Ong Bak one which is another Thai film and then there's another—

Ben

If you have not seen Ong Bak and you like action film, please go see Ong Bak. 

Nini

I have not watched Ong Bak. Of course, Ben has because he's a boy. 

Ben

I am a boy! Tony Jaa is amazing!

Nini

[laughs] I really liked that Golf gets to throw that in there as well. And it's fun. The Golden Eagle one especially is delightful. [laughs] It really is. So that's 9.5 and 8. Let's call that an 8.75. Ooh the maths is coming back! It's coming back! An 8.75 for The Eclipse.

Ben, what’d you give it?

Ben

I gave it a 9 because it's really coherent and that mattered a lot for me, because we had watched a lot of—I don't remember the exact order—but I remember just not being, like, necessarily, like, great at this point because a bunch of them were kind of…stuffed…or boring…and this wasn't. I was fully engaged the whole time, because Golf has such clear ideas in their work and they're all working together at various levels that they really wanted us to not miss.

49:50 - My School President

Nini

Moving on from The Eclipse onto the next rung on the ladder up: My School President. So the My School President fan fiction trope was AU, alternate universe, for all of the characters. I had a fucking blast with this. Ben, explain to the people what happened.

Ben

I'm gonna pre-react to the criticism, unfortunately.

My School President is a high school story about pursuing your long-term crush and the final year of your high school experience. There was no way My School President was going to get an epilogue story. So instead they flipped the seats of a bunch of the characters. 

So, in this version of the My School President story, Gun is the school president and Tinn is the member of the school band. This time named Lion instead of Chinzhilla. Instead of Tiwson being the school president's best friend, they keep Por, who is his bestie in this. Tiwson is a member of the band. Sound and Win switch positions in this, where Sound is the long-term member of the band. Win is the new hot boy who shows up who they recruit. They also decide to flip Yo and Pat in the story with each other, even though they're still both in the band. Gim becomes the principal, and Photjanee becomes the operator of the milk ice cream bar. 

And in the process of this, like, the same beats from the show. We still hit them, but they play out very differently because the core characterization of these couples don't shift. Which forces us to reckon with certain aspects of the characters that kind of get glossed over in the idealism of the original My School President run. For example, Tinn is so much braver than Gun. Gun is kind of a coward who is gripped by an intense sense of self-doubt, and it starts off almost immediately. Like there's some political commentary with the way Gun is selected as the school president. 250 votes were cast by parents to make Gun the president instead of going through the school voting process instead, which works as a quick shorthand for the show, but also works as a commentary on Thai parliamentary politics.

And so like he's not the school president because he wants to help Tinn. He's just sort of pushed into the position by his mom, and so the moments that they hit along the way, like the dancing together scene. That plays out differently because Gun backs off and ends up dancing with someone else. The whole Questions thing they did to get close to film the thing goes differently because Gun won't ask Tinn directly, but Tinn does ask him, but Gun backs down. 

It was interesting because, like, everyone still chose each other. But, like, in a weird way Tiwson and Por were the strong couple of this outing, anchoring for the rest of them. 

Like, in the original show Tinn and Gun are so obviously together that the force of their mutual attraction sort of just creates opportunity for the rest of these relationships to bubble up. This time around, Tiwson and Por are working together in the background to help Tinn and Gun get together because they want to come out as a couple. Which I thought was an interesting switch-up as well.

Nini

I really enjoyed that, despite shifting the characters around in terms of their positions and roles, that the cores of the characters remained exactly the same. And you see how the same people living a different life would become a different person. Like you talk about Gun being kind of a coward and he is kind of a coward even in the OG show. Tinn’s the brave one, and Tinn has to be the brave one because Gun's the one who's gonna back down. But also the Gun of the alternate universe—the multiverse of cuteness as it is called—the Gun of the alternate universe hasn't spent his whole life on stage being judged and knocked back. And developing that thick skin that he talks to Tinn about in the OG series, so he is much less resilient than the Gun of the OG series. And that makes a difference in how he navigates his crush on Tinn. 

Similarly to that, Tinn in the AU has not had the strictness of the OG Photjanee forced on him the whole time. The strictness and the straight lace-ness because things are a little looser for him. And so he feels more able to take the ball and run with it when he realizes how he feels. They redo the scene of them spending the night at the school and walking around, and this is where Tinn turns the Gun and is like, “Look, do you like me?” which is something Tinn wouldn't necessarily have asked in the OG series. 

But then Gun, faced with the opportunity to actually lock it down with his crush. He says no and he runs away which is not a thing that Tinn would have done. If Gun had ginned up the, the actual courage to ask Tinn if he liked him Tinn would have been like [inhales] taken a deep breath and been like, “Hell yell, let’s date.” It's really interesting watching how they take the same characters and, just by moving their positions in the story, they create a story that's different. 

Ben

And yet all the people still choose each other. They basically state the big idea at one point. The Gun character says maybe in another lifetime things would have gone better, and the Por and Tiwson of this universe slap that idea down and go, “Yeah, but you're not in those universes. You're in this one. Make the most of the life you have.” 

Nini

I really enjoyed this outing. I enjoyed what they took the opportunity of the Our Skyy special to say and to do. I agree with you. I don't think that an epilogue would have worked. My School President is so of its setting. I do not think that moving the boys into college and following them there—I don't feel like I would have been interested in seeing that because that's not the point of My School President.

My tagline for My School President was “perfect high school romance” and I think that's where it should stay.

Okay, so my drama score for My School President was 9.5, and I took off a half point because nobody made out. And, I'm sorry, I am shallow. I wanted somebody to kiss in this special. I didn't care who. Just somebody. So I took off half a point. But the crack score is a 10 because I mean it's an AU. There is nothing crackier than that, so that works out to what, like a 9.75? Yeah, I'm good with that.

Ben

So, I gave this one a 9 because it was a little heady and My School President is not a really heady show for me. But the whole AU concept was. Now, I liked it, but in terms of, like, recommending it to the people who liked My School President, it's kind of hard because they wanted more of what they loved in My School President and this is not exactly that? So, I gave it a 9. 

But I'm also with Nini, like nobody kissed in this one. And, again, young actors. I'm totally fine with them not kissing, but…their characters in the original show have really specific kisses, and, if they were more experienced and veteran actors, we would have gotten a different type of kiss from these characters because they are coming at each other very differently. And we don't get to offer that particular comparison here. So, minor knock for me as well.

Nini

We didn't even get to talk about the best part which was them doing a fake music video for a fake Aof song that incorporated Aof’s top three hits in the music videos, which are He’s Coming to Me, Bad Buddy, and A Tale of Thousand Stars. 

Ben

We didn't even talk about that.

Nini

Tiw and Por got to do A Tale of Thousand Stars. Sound and Win get to do Bad Buddy. And Gun and Tinn get to do He’s Coming to Me. So they, they paid homage to their granddaddy in "Aof" Noppharnach Chaiyahwimhon. Three of the greatest GMMTV BLs, and also the ones that sort of set the stage for My School President.

1:00:24 - Bad Buddy x A Tale of Thousand Stars

Nini

Onto the main event, and the main event of Our Skyy 2 was "Aof" Noppharnach giving the finger to GMMTV and saying, “Fuck you, I get four episodes to talk about what I want. And what I want to talk about is queer elders coming to terms with themselves, and I'm going to use anybody I want to talk about that.” AKA the Bad Buddy - A Tale of Thousand Stars crossover event. 

Ben, break it down for the people.

Ben

Whereas every other one of these projects except for My School President was in many ways an epilogue this is a mixture of…it's an epilogue or a post-show story for Tian and Phupha, but for Pran and Pat it's set between Bad Buddy episode 11 and Bad Buddy episode 12. It's the senior year for Pat and Pran. They are still closeted and having to keep up the architecture-engineering rivalry, though it looks like they've tried to smooth things over over the years because most of the beef is about who's bringing…brooms to…the charity project now. [laughs] But they're having some consternation because both groups need to put on a play as part of their class president activities, and after the normal Bad Buddy hijinks kick in, Pran reveals that he wants to adapt Tian's diary A Tale of Thousand Stars into a play for the architecture school.

And once they decide to follow this route, their teacher says that, because they don't have permission from the people whose story this actually is, they need to go find them and get said permission. Pran decides that they're going to go to Pha Pun Dao to talk to them directly, tell them how important it is that they want to tell this particular story. 

Before they can leave, Pat is forced to hang out with his engineering buddies and, because he has to pretend like he doesn't like Pran, he says something akin to, “That Pran guy. He'd be useless without me. I'm always having to help him.” Pran felt some kind of way about that and decided to leave Pat behind and go to Pha Pun Dao himself—much to his own chagrin—because he loves that boy, and got so nervous when he was walking around by himself without Pat. 

And over the course of these four episodes, Pat and Pran learn a little bit more about themselves and their dynamic—but mostly they really help Tian and Phupha work past some really fundamental struggles that they were having as a couple that Pat and Pran realized that they had moved past a long time ago. 

This crossover really elevates both works because Aof is obsessed with the idea that queer people make each other better and, by the end of this, we as a fandom seem rather split about it because those of us who liked both A Tale of Thousand Stars and Bad Buddy were able to appreciate how both stories impact each other. But, it seems like if you were really only into one of those stories, you resented the crossover in one way or another.

Nini

I think that's one reaction to it, but, I mean, we've seen among the clowns even people who were really into Bad Buddy but not so into A Tale of Thousand Stars really coming around on Tian and Phupha by the end of the special. I don't think we have like a Vice Versa situation in that, and we can discuss all the reasons that might be, but I think that definitely the crossover has made people who maybe didn't appreciate A Tale of Thousand Stars as much really appreciate A Tale of Thousand Stars and Tian and Phupha more now.

Ben

So where do you want to pick up with the beginning of this discussion? 

Nini

I think I want to start with the idea one of our fellow clowns first espoused, and really sort of set me off on this thought process, that this special—this whole crossover—is all about Phupha. Because, of all four characters in the OG shows, the only character who didn't really get an arc  was Phupha—this is Phupha’s arc. How do you feel about that as an idea—as a concept?

Ben

Since we're gonna start here, I'm gonna come out swinging.

Nini

Do it.

Ben

If you hate that Phupha is the focus character of this particular special, I need you to examine whether or not you actually care about gay men.

Phupha is a poor, hyper-masculine, closeted gay man, who's older than the other characters. He's about 35 at this point. There are so many queer people out there that you're never going to know about because they cannot live their lives loudly. 

We're recording in June right now. Pride month. Phupha’s not gonna show up at Bangkok Pride because 1) he's not coming to Bangkok, and 2) that's just not the place where he feels safe. It's not the place where he feels seen. It's not where all of the quiet gays are gonna go, or where the gays who have to be closeted for one reason or another are going to be. And it's easy to forget them because they're boring or they're less fun. 

I like that the story ends up being about: “How do we help Phupha break out of his own shell a little bit and let Tian love him just a little bit more?”

Nini

Phupha is this sort of stoic, very stern, character. I mean they lampooned that a little bit in the OG series for A Tale of Thousand Stars, and they lampoon him a little bit in the beginning of the crossover here, deflating him a little bit—kind of puncturing the whole stoic seme thing. But this is kind of who he is. 

This is, as you say, he's older. He's got real responsibilities. He's got a community to protect. He's…got people that he cares about that he needs to take care of. He is not the kind of guy who is going to, like you say, go to Bangkok Pride. He is the kind of guy who maybe has some internalized homophobia that he's dealing with—definitely has some internalized homophobia that he's dealing with. He is that guy who is trying to do the right thing all the time. And so often the right thing means him subsuming his actual desires in some kind of idea of him denying himself being what's best for the community.

And one of the things that the crossover brings forward, particularly in the person of Pat, who is diametrically opposed to the idea of subsuming himself for anybody. He only does it for Pran, and only, like, grudgingly. But, to put somebody like Pat, who is just loud and proud and just completely does not care about any ideas of masculinity or propriety or anything like that, and put that character in conversation of any kind with Phupha. It's so delightful to watch that happen because, of course, Pat immediately gloms onto him. He follows him around like a duckling—he imprints on him. 

He's like, “Oh, yes, Stern Daddy. I really, really like this vibe that you're givin’ off here. I'm just going to follow you around and bother the fuck out of you.” 

I think it was wen-kexing-apologist who said that Pat's entire job in the special is to terrorize the local elder gay. I Love it.

Ben

Pat and Pran. They both looked at Phupha, looked at each other, and then both said at the same time ‘WOULD.’ 

[both laugh]

Nini

I did see that. That was funny because it's true. They hang a lampshade on it at two points 1) when Pran runs into Phupha for the first time—him really having, like, a gay boy moment. [laughs] Like, the whole, like, slow-motion, turn-around, like, gasping gay boy moment.

Ben

He's read the, the diary and he's like “I get it.” Immediately!

[both laugh]

Nini

And then, to have Pat's moment come, where—because Pat's flirtation language is competition. So, of course he basically challenges Phupha to a duel in the form of a drinking contest. And then they wake up shirtless next to each other and think that they might have maybe…done something— 

Ben

They definitely did some stuff.

Nini

They made out. Just a little bit. They kissed a little bit. 

But I—I loved that! I loved that they were both really into him. Like it was clear that they were both attracted to him. It was very gay and very fun. But also they're just like, “No, I get it.” They—they both looked and they were just like, “Tian, I get you. I understand why you live in this village with [both laugh] no running water, and you have to sleep under a mosquito net every night. I get you! I understand you because, for this man, I would do these things.” Like, they get it.

It's kind of delightful.

Ben

I like how, when Pran first gets to the village, and Phupha passes out, Tian runs up and Pran’s like ‘who are you’ and Tian's like, “No. Who the fuck are you?”

[Nini laughs]

Ben

And, like, if Tian had been allowed to have a knife…

Nini

Pran would have been stopped at that point—fully stabbed. “Like, who the fuck are you and why are you talking to my man?” [laughs] Like, Tian lives in the village because he doesn't want anybody else to see Phupha. 

[both laugh]

Nini

Because he knows the minute any of these whores take a look at his man, if it's going to be a problem. 

Ben

In terms of the serious stuff. So, they've shown up to convince them to sign these papers. Going into this Pat and Pran are fighting a little bit because Pran feels guilty, and part of this journey for him was maybe seeing, like, if he actually needed Pat as much as he does. And he learns very quickly that he is not at his best without Pat. 

It's funny because Pat always knew this. Pat seemed to know already. Like, he says it in like episode 5 of Bad Buddy that he was not at his best when Pran was gone. 

But Pran wants to prove he doesn't need Pat's help, and when Pran shows up to try and convince him to sign Tian's like, “Fuck yeah! I wrote the diary so people would…maybe want to become teachers and appreciate what I have out here. Absolutely!” Phupha's like, “No, y'all not going to present me as some lovesick fool on your little stage.” 

And then Pran tries to talk to Phupha a couple of times and fails massively at it. Tries to lie to Phupha. And then Pat blocks the shit out of that by calling out the bullshit right away, because he's pissed at Pran for running off without him. So he's sabotaging some of Pran's efforts. And it isn't until the two of them start working together that they actually start making any fucking progress because…that's who they are.

Nini

But I think there's also, like, a really valid point to the fact that Pran—he tries to talk to Phupha about it at first and Phupha is not having it. You're right. But one of the reasons that Phupha is not having it is because he's looking at these kids and he's thinking, “These kids do not understand me. These kids have no idea of what my life is like. These kids have no idea of what our lives are like. These kids have never faced any kind of serious challenge. These are two dumb kids. I'm not gonna give them time of day. They don't get to tell my story.” 

And then, by the end, the thing that actually gets Phupha to agree to let them tell his story…is Pran actually dropping the bullshit—as you said—and saying to him, “You think I don't know what it's like to feel insecure? You think I don't know what it's like to feel like my partner deserves better than me? You think I don't know what that feels like? Oh, believe you me, I know what that feels like.” 

And, because at this point Phupha has spent an enormous amount of time with Pat, he's like,

“Okay, yeah, maybe you do understand what I'm going through.” 

And the way that that works out in the end—and I mean we're kind of skipping back and forth through the story at this point—but the way that that works out at the end is Phupha saying, “Okay, you get to tell my story, but you have to tell my story because you understand me.” His condition for signing off on them doing the play is that they play the roles of him and Tian, because they understand him. I thought that was really—a really great way to follow that thread through the story. I really enjoyed that part.

Ben

I like the subtle way Aof played with our expectations about who would identify with who. Like, they made Tian and Pran resemble each other. Tian was like, “Fuck this twink,” right away as soon as Pran showed up. 

[Nini laughs]

But then, like, Pran helps him. Pran helps him in the class and Tian softens very quickly to Pran. 

Because of how physically macho Pat is—like, there's this expectation that he and Phupha are gonna be super similar to each other—and there's an interesting subtle commentary that Aof does there in that it's the more creative one, who's way too close to his mom, who's more like the hyper-masculine dude, because both of them are masking in their lives. 

Like, Phupha is hyper-masculine because that's what's expected of him. And like people pick at Phupha about this a little bit, but he is trying to live up to the role that he is told he's supposed to fulfill. And Pran also suffers under the expectations of who his mom expects him to be, and it's interesting for me that Aof, over the course of these three episodes when they're all together, Aof says Pran and Phupha have more in common because they are carrying so much homophobia on their shoulders, and that's why the two of them probably understand each other best.

Nini

Using the yaoi tropes again, a talk about who is the seme and who's the uke in the story in terms of who's the pursuer and who's the pursued, and…if you look at it, like, then you can clearly see that it's Tian and Pat who are aligned because Pat pursued Pran and Tian pursued Phupha. They are the semes even though it seems that Tian would be an uke. He's not. He actually pursued Phupha. 

So in the narrative sense. He's the seme. It's just very fun, this playing with the idea of what is a seme and what is an uke. And, again to use the yaoi terms—which you know I don't like to use ‘cause I don't really know the yaoi or rock with the yaoi. But, that idea of who is…pursuing the relationship, leading the relationship—like that's Tian and that's Pat. 

And in terms of who is being pulled along by their partner in a kind of a way that's Phupha and that’s Pran. So, I do like how Aof leans into this…because again, it subverts expectations in a particular kind of way. But also it makes so much sense. 

Ben

There's two subtle things that I really want to point out, and I want to talk about them a little.

First, Pat and Pran use titles for Tian and Phupha the whole time. And the other thing is about how nobody really knows anything about anybody in this. So, like, we're gonna call them Tian and Phupha, Pat and Pran, because we're inside of these people's stories with them. But it's interesting to me that Pran and Pat never cross a familiarity line with Tian and Phupha in the brief time they're with them. They refer to them as Teacher and Chief only the entire time.

Nini

I like that because it's a nod to their roles as adults because Pat and Pran are still kids. They're still college students, and Tian and Phupha are adults to them. But, in some ways, Pat and Pran have progressed much further in their relationship than Tian and Phupha have because they've been through more—just from the nature of their whole history. And they've crossed barriers and boundaries and, and parts of their relationship that Tian and Phupha are just confronting or haven't even confronted yet. And I liked that. 

I liked, also, that interplay of the younger ones being the ones to teach the older ones something. I really like that because I feel like that's what's happening now not just in—not just in queer circles—because that's definitely happening in queer circles. But also just in terms of generalization. Like, if you're not a complete douche and you're our age—well I say our age. I'm about 10 years older than Ben. Not ten, but…when you've crossed a certain Rubicon in the adulting game. Let's put it that way.

Right now. The kids are teaching us like a whole bunch of stuff as long as you're not a dick, like, and you remain open, the kids can teach you all kinds of shit that you never thought was possible to learn about yourself at this stage in your life. And I really like that Aof played with that because Aof’s about my age, and I like that he is the kind of person who understands that the young uns have things to teach us as well. Like, we have things to teach them—clearly and obviously—and we want to make a better world for them—clearly and obviously. But also, there's so much shit that we can learn from them when it comes to just fucking unclenching, because that's what happens here! Like, all of this is in service of Phupha just fucking unclenching. 

Ben

And this is what I mean about having other queer people, like it isn't just about your boyfriend. You need queer friends. Like, Tian blossoms almost immediately when he realizes that Pat and Pran are a couple—that they're not just friends. As soon as Pat flirts with him a little bit at breakfast and Pran shoves a spoon into his mouth, you can see Tian instantly relaxes and it's like, “Okay” and is more receptive to what these two are here for. And for Phupha. Like, yeah, it's one thing to just be into Tian and that be a thing, but to have someone like Pat roaming around actively flirting with him all the time, that also forced Phupha to reckon with who he is. 

And it's funny, because, like, Pat and Pran are actually closeted. They basically, like, admit it to Tian and Phupha as a sort of a de facto thing. But, like, the two of them are away from the world where they have to hide. So they're on top of each other. They're constantly touching each other. They're flirting constantly…

Nini

They're fucking in the tent twenty feet away from them. [laughs]

Ben

We'll get there in a second. We’ll be there in a second. [Nini laughs] But they're so obviously obsessed with each other. And like Nini said, like during the rescue bit, Kampung is not in the tent with them where he's supposed to be. And so the boys are like, “Oh, I guess the kid decided to go stay with Phupha and Tian. Great! My foot is hurting me because I twisted my ankle, but let's get it in!” And then in the morning Pat limps to breakfast asking, “What's my score for last night?”

Nini

I love that they just fuck their way through all their problems. It's delightful. I enjoy it.

Ben

One of the sad things with Tian and Phupha is…they have to keep waiting for the other person to be asleep to be affectionate with them, and that's one of the big things that I'm really glad that they start to work through towards the end of this. Like, I'm really proud of Phupha for listening to the man who he loves, and the person who is inspired by the man who he loves. 

Like, it’s so fascinating. Like—like Pran ran on this whole trip thinking he was Tian, met Phupha, realized he was Phupha, and was able to reach across that gap and say, “Please trust me. We got you.” And Phupha said, “Okay.” 

There's a lot of consternation in the fandom right now about taking score between Pat and Pran about who sacrifices more, or what should or shouldn't be said. I'm not particularly interested in that particular conversation. Pat and Pran love each other. They're adults. They've committed to each other. Sometimes you're gonna be with other gays and you're not going to understand how they work, and you just have to accept that their dynamic is their dynamic. It's not about who wins. It's about who cares for you—and they clearly care for each other.

Nini

I think part of what it is, as well, is—it sounds bad, but go with me on this right? I am a great proponent of therapy. I believe in it. I am in therapy. I have been in therapy for years. I recommend therapy to everybody. But there is a certain level of therapized that I think is not necessarily good for us…And that is as somebody who believes in the power of therapy to change and save lives. I think that this idea that everything is pathologized, that you always have to be on the lookout because somebody's trying to get you in some kind of way—I think that it can be harmful to relationships and to our understanding of relationships in certain ways, because not everything that is unbalanced or imbalanced is harmful. 

And I think that one of the problems that I'm having with…not so much the show, but the fandom reaction to it is…that yes, Pat and Pran’s relationship looks unbalanced from the outside. It probably is unbalanced in certain ways. But that doesn't mean that it's harmful. But there's this idea that because of—again this is a, a therapized lens that unbalanced equals harmful, and I don't think that's necessarily the case. 

One of the things that I really don't grok onto and, to be fair…I am very…I am a Bad Buddy fun. I am a Pat and Pran fan. I am a fan of the characters separately and together. And one of the things that…I am really personally sticky and icky about is this idea in certain parts…that Pat and Pran do not love each other equally, or Pran does not love Pat enough, or Pat loves Pran more—all these ideas of particular kind of imbalances between them. And my whole thing is—Who are they and what do they need and what do they want from each other? What does Pat actually need from Pran? Is he getting it? He absolutely is.

So this idea of keeping score between the characters—or keeping score in relationships in general if you, if you broaden out to the idea of relationships—I feel like it doesn't serve. I feel like it's…reductive. And I feel like looking at these characters through that lens is not the way that Aof is portraying these characters, or wants the audience to look at these characters. Because I think that Aof is a person who is…very tuned into certain ideas that he wants to portray—certain things that he wants to portray about queerness and queer community and queer relationships—and…I think that to reduce probably the greatest queer relationship that he has put on screen in Pat and Pran to score keeping, when score keeping is a part of their history that they have deliberately stepped away from because they were forced into it. I feel like it misunderstands what he's trying to do and say with these characters…

And that's just my opinion, and I will admit a hundred percent that I am very precious about these two particular characters. I'm very precious about a lot of Aof characters because I feel that Aof writes characters in a way that I understand them intrinsically. But these two characters in particular I feel very precious about. And, I feel like to see them like that in the context of somehow keeping score between them is to not see them at all.

Ben

Pat only cares about one score and he asks Pran for it directly every morning.

Nini

And that's a fact. [laughs]

Ben

And that's the big thing for me! Like, they were kind of having a fight and most of it was Pran’s insecurity because Pran is a little bit embarrassed about what he's asked Pat to do for him. And they get over that almost immediately. They get to Pha Pun Dao. They see Tian and Phupha and they're like, “Oh, man. These guys are older than us, but they're like…four episodes behind us. [laughs] So, we got to catch these gays up quick!” And they—they instantly get over whatever their beef is and they start playing out their kinks the way they always do. They start cosplaying as Tian and Phupha…and flirting with each other.

Nini

And they do in the end have a little bit of a resolution to their…really not much of a fight, fight. And, there's two resolutions, really. 

The first resolution is the resolution they get in Pha Pun Dao which is, “Look, I can't fucking live without you, and you can't fucking live without me, and we agree on that. So, let's dead the shit.” And they did! And it was fine, because the shit was never really live in terms of a fight being live in the first place. They were fucking their way through that whole fight…and that's how they deal with things, and it works for them, and it's fine. 

And then they get a second resolution that Phupha gives them—a gift—which is, “I get to be in the open with you, even if it's just on stage. I get to be a lover in public.” And it works for me.

Ben

They even tried to redeem Wai a little bit.

Nini

It's still fuck Wai forever in these parts.

Ben

[laughs] He doesn't drop the curtain this time. Instead, he's like, “Give the people the kiss they need!”

Nini

It's still fuck Wai forever in these parts. [laughs]

Ben

And it's interesting, too, in terms of that particular gift. It works out in a couple of ways because Phupha gets to see a bunch of people react to their story. People are loving it. Lesbians are crying over them. One of the lesbians is moaning, “Why don't they just fuck already!” 

[both laugh]

Ben

He gets to see people love them through this play, and then this gives Pran something that he's wanted: Pran his on socials after the play seeing people making fanvids about him and Pat. Which is something that he wants. He wants to be in the open with Pat because he knows that's what Pat wants, and this is the closest they're gonna get for now. And he is relieved to just see that. 

But again, Pat is not worried about that. He's like, “Oh good, good. Did you get what you want?” and he's like, “All right. Let's stop fucking around with all this other stuff. Can we kiss as ourselves now?” 

And they do!

Nini

We've talked a lot about Pat and Pran here and we've kind of scratched the surface on Tian and Phupha. But I really want to get into Phupha because the main thing that the special is doing is unlocking Phupha for the audience, because—like I said—all the other characters have had their arcs in the OG series that we're looking at. Only Phupha has really been holding the line, so to speak. 

And this is Phupha's unveiling. It's his opening. This is Phupha getting harassed by a baby gay. Terrorized, actually, by a baby gay. Realizing that, “Oh my god. The baby gays came to town, and they fucked in a tent twenty feet away from us, and the world didn't fucking end. So maybe…I, too, can fuck my man and the world won’t end.” 

[both laugh]

And then he proceeds to do just that.

Ben

I really like the way Aof went about doing it. Phupha primps himself up, rents an expensive vehicle, picks up Tian, and then goes with Tian to a cute cafe and lets Tian show him off a little bit, even if it made him a little bit nervous to be fawned over.

Nini

He let Tian, like, dress him up! Like, he let Tian take him shopping! He let Tian babygirl him a little bit. He let Tian spend a little money! It was nice!

Ben

That felt like a big deal because he mentioned it. He's like the money on one of these dishes could feed the village for a week in Pha Pun Dao, but he lets it go. Tian is actually a rich kid. This is part of what Phupha knows Tian gave up to be with him and so, when they're in Bangkok, he relents. He lets Tian dress him up like a Ken until Tian is satisfied with the look. And unsurprisingly, Tian chooses something very sleek, masculine, and comfortable for Phupha.

And then Phupha shows up and meets the parents. This is a huge deal too because Phupha was nervous about this because he feels like he took their son from them, and that he overstepped because Tian's dad was once a superior in the military. And all they say is, “We're gonna give you the thing that's most important to us. Take care of it.” And they acknowledge his filial piety to his father when Tian—when Phupha—admits that the reason he's a forest ranger is because his dad loved that mountain and felt a need to take care of it and the people who maintain it. And they were like, “Respect that.”

And then he proposes!

Nini

Okay y’all know how I feel about the BL weddings and the BL proposals. Y’all know that I am usually kind of, like, sitting in the corner, like, with my hands over my eyes. But this one, y'all, I was deep in my feelings. The tears came out. It was beautiful. I fucking loved this proposal. It was perfect.

Ben

I think I liked it because it wasn't a grand gesture in front of a bunch of people.

Nini

That's exactly why I liked it. [laughs]

Ben

It was for them. It was Phupha finally saying that he wasn't going to hold back anymore, and then they had loud obnoxious sex in the hotel room.

Nini

I just like that the loud obnoxious sex started like way before this. Like, the loud obnoxious sex started—like the idea of loud obnoxious sex of course was started by Pat, because that's Pat's entire brand. When he was walking around in the forest with Phupha, like, pretending to worry about Pran when he knows Pran is gonna be fine, and telling Phupha, like, “I mean I'm just going to sniff him out and, like, what do you mean you're not going to sniff out your man. Like, don't you know what he smells like? He smells so good.”

[both laugh]

Ben

You know, I don't think that's underlined really loudly in the show but like Pat says it quite plainly to Tian. He's like, “We don't need to go roaming around. Phupha’s experienced and good at his job, and Pran's really smart. We should really just stay here.”

[both laugh]

Like, nobody believes in Pran more than Pat.

Nini

Nobody. Absolutely nobody. Pat is like, “Listen. He's gonna be fine. I'm not particularly worried about him.” Like, both times. Both when he was wandering around in the woods with Phupha and when he was trying to get Tian to sit his ass down and be a heart patient like he's supposed to be. Both times he's just like, “I am not worried about Pran. Like, can we just focus on what the real problem is here. The real problem here is that your man is going unsniffed. Y’all are having a fight that y'all don't need to be having.” 

I loved Pat’s whole energy in Pha Pun Dao. He was just like, “I'm just gonna vibe. I'm just glad to be here. I like being able to be out in the open with Pran. We are literally a million miles away from Bangkok. I can just be out here and just love on Pran the way that I feel like lovin’ on Pran—” 

Ben

“I'm here to test the structural integrity of the teacher's house.”

Nini

All of that! “I'm here to fuck in a tent and ask the next morning if I did good.” He was just vibing the entire time, and then he got the bonus vibe of running into Phupha who he has—I'm sorry—a major fucking crush on. He does. It’s canon. We're gonna leave it at that. He brought the sex pest fairy godmother energy to Pha Pun Dao, and he's just like, “Listen, y'all are having a fight. Have you tried fucking about it? I have found that to be a very—”

[Ben laughs]

“—I found that to be very helpful method of solving problems. Y’all should just fuck! Give him a good old sniff. He smells real good. Have you noticed that?” 

And it works! Like, Phupha at first is like, “Oh my God, get this kid away from me.”

Ben

Pat said, “Dick is not magical. It doesn't fix you. But! You look like you could use a little bit of a stress release.”

[both laugh]

Nini

And he's not wrong. And I love that despite the fact that Phupha spends the entire time being like, “Oh my God, child, get away from me. You are so annoying.” The minute Patt leaves, he's just like, “Okay. I'm [gonna] try what the kid said.” 

And he does it!

Ben

He goes back to all of their most romantic moments that he downplayed previously and gives them to Tian. Tian doesn't even know what to do with it at first because they've been so cold for a while.

Nini

He takes Tian back to the waterfall, and he's just like, “You said that I sneaked to look at you and I did but I ain't sneaking now! I'ma look.” And then he goes further than that. He said, “Not only am I going to look. I am going to make sure that you get a good look.” 

Ben

[singsong] Take a good hard look!

Nini

And like, like you said at first Tian is like, “What is happening here?” because Phupha is being so open, which I don't think he's ever been before.

Ben

And, like, Phupha was kind of manipulative about it because he made Tian relent and so Tian thought he was being, like, punished at first. Like, Phupha was teasing him because Tian's never made his attraction really quiet.

And then they finally get the stern dicking they've been needing. And Phupha…steals a line from the kids: “What's my score for last night?”

Nini

It was so fun. And Tian is just like, “Your what?” Like, Tian is fully enjoying this and I love that for him because one of the things I think people forget throughout the course of A Tale of Thousand Stars is that the Tian who starts the tale—he's sexy! Tian at the beginning of the story, he's got this edge to him. The sexy edge, and that kinda gets whittled away a little bit in Pha Pun Dao. But, that's still who he is. 

And I like that at the end of the tale when we get here to the epilogue that he gets to be that again. He gets to pull out that sexy edge that is part of him and use it on his man. Like, he babygirls him, he takes him shopping, and then, when he lookin’ all nice, he leans into him and he be like, “You're real handsome. Do you have a boyfriend?” And I'm just like this is Tian! This is Tian that I remember!

Ben

And then he pushes Phupha in that bed, and he's like, “I've been waiting for five years. I'm ‘bout to get what's mine.”

[both laugh]

Nini

Phupha’s like, “What are you doing?” He's like, “Don't worry about it.” [laughs]

Ben

He’s like, “Don't worry about it, babygirl. I’ma take care of you tonight.”

[both laugh]

Nini

And I love that. I love that so much. Phupha is, like, panicked about it for a minute, and he's like [sighs]. He's decides. He's like, “Let go, let flow.” He's like, “All right. This how you want it?” and Tian's like, “Uh-huh,” and he's like, “All right, let's do this!” [laughs] I loved It. I loved it so much. 

I love that at this stage of his life Phupha just learns to like—you know what? He's like, “Sometimes you just gotta un-fucking-clench.” And he just, he lets it all go.

Ben

I don't usually like talking about sexual positions around here because…of the way people project onto them, but I really like the implication in the final scene that this might be the first time Phupha really switches with Tian in a way that's also him emotionally… because you do have to unclench if you want to enjoy that particular act.

Nini

[laughs] In more ways than one!

Ben

It works really well because of the proposal. Like, Phupha's putting it all in the line. He's actually putting himself on the line. And he's going to be a complete partner to Tian, and is also going to relent and let Tian have some of the things that he wants. 

Like Tian is happy in Pha Pun Dao. He doesn't hate their lives there. He just says, “I want you to come home and see my parents once a year. It's important to me. I just want you to come down for that. And when we're here, let me treat you nicely.” 

Like, even if their lives aren't gonna always be there—like Tian may someday have to take care of the responsibilities of his parents getting older. But, I feel better about them facing that now as two people who are fully committed to each other than Phupha’s whole waiting-for-the-other-shoe-to-drop thing all the time.

Nini

I just…really liked…getting to see…Phupha just…be… We never get to see him just be. Once he internalizes what Pat and Pran say to him, at every point from then what we see is him getting to just be. Yeah, in a slutty way—which I personally enjoy. But also just not worrying so much about what the things he's doing say about him. And yeah, there are, like, moments of that, like, when they get to the play and the curtain goes up, you see him starting to, like, freak out a little bit. But as the play goes on he relaxes.

I like that he leans into both the relaxed energy and the slutty energy, because I feel like the slutty energy is incredibly important. Like, one of the things that I really enjoyed about the final episode of the crossover was that mosquito net moment because—

Ben

Oh my God…finally.

Nini

That's so many things! That's Aof acknowledging that he was maybe slightly too precious with their sexuality in A Tale of Thousand Stars. That's Aof acknowledging that, maybe yeah, they should have kissed there. That's also Phupha acknowledging a bunch of stuff. That's also Tian getting to recast those moments in his mind.

Ben

I also love that Aof basically gave them the Bad Buddy post-credits scene.

Nini

Now, everybody’s saying that, but to me I just remember that the A Tale of Thousand Stars post-credits scene wasn't sideways either. Like, they wrastled in that A Tale of Thousand Stars post-credits scene. Like, Tian had to ask for the dick but he got it.

Ben

I'm just very satisfied by the outing this time.

Nini

I really, really enjoyed it, and I think that a lot of the Sturm und Drang around it is because of these ideas—again once again—these ideas about balance, and feeling like it was maybe unbalanced between Pat and Pran, and Tian and Phupha. But I don't think those ideas of balance are relevant to what Aof was trying to do here. I think that using Pat and Pran—who are a solid, established couple who we know are pulling through anything because we've seen their future already—using them as a conduit, or a catalyst, or a support to pull Tian and Phupha through a hurdle that could break them. I was fine with it in the end. 

Like, I went through a lot of like—you know. I mean, you know because you were in these discussions with me and you and the clowns, like, sort of pulling through, like, how we feel about this. 

Ben

Everybody else is having a difficult time. I was vibing so hard for like—[laughs] for like two weeks! Everybody else is like, “Oh I don't like this episode!!” Like, everybody was mad after episode 3! Me…I thought that episode was great. They're like, “I hate how long they were lost in the woods.” I'm like, “Well, that was the whole point.”

They were lost in the woods. They were all circling around an issue, and the issue is really simple. Like, just sit still and let other people find you. Because that's what you need to do, baby gays, sometimes, it's sit still so we can fucking find you! And help you!

[both laugh]

Ben

All right! Let's talk about the actors.

Nini

Watching these four get to vibe together. I want to see it. And not just the four of them vibing together, but…the…pairings because they gave us like a mix and match. So, they gave us every single pairing that you could get out of these four actors, and everyone was delightful and delectable. And I enjoyed every single one of them, but I particularly enjoyed pairing Ohm with Earth. 

Ben

I really liked… the pairing of Nanon and Mix, and I don't know what we need to do to see those two work together again, but I would like to see the two of them take on meaty characters together.

Nini

I mean they're gonna be in The Jungle together. 

Ben

Are they? Well well well…

Nini

Yeah, maybe you might have to watch The Jungle. [laughs]

Ben might have to watch a straight show!

Ben

No…we just did that! It sucked!

[both laugh]

Ben

I loved Mix in this. Like, we've seen MIx and Earth together a couple of times, and you talked about this during episode two. Their drunken walk home together felt like Phupha and Tian, not Jim and Wen.

Nini

They made it feel so different, even with similar framing, even with similar camera work, even with the same actors, and the same director. They made that moment feel completely different from Jim and Wen's moment doing the same activity, and I—hats off, I bow down. I appreciate actors—y’all know that.

Ben

I like how all four of them managed to make their dynamics feel lived in.

Like, Pat and Pran felt settled. Like, they have some long-term difficulties to deal with—some of which are never gonna go away—but it was kind of interesting for me knowing that they're rock solid by the end of BB 12 that you can see them starting to get there now. Where Pran is nervous that this can't work forever because Pat is too loud. He…needs to be loud about stuff.

But, like, you can see the signs here of them giving themselves openings. Here, like with the play, with Pat going home to his dad later and giving him the liquor that Pran got in Singapore, loudly climbing through Pran's window when he comes back to Bangkok…to go play with his guitar in his room.

Nini

Pat needs to be loud. Pran knows Pat needs to be loud. And the journey that they're setting off on through the special—I can't even say that it culminates in Bad Buddy 12 ‘cause it doesn't. It continues in Bad Buddy 12, but it culminates at some point in a future that we don't get to see. And there's something to be said about Aof putting that way-way off…and the things that he wants to say to the baby gays and the elder gays.

Hoo! Man, I've been feeling Aof lately. Like, Moonlight Chicken, like, unraveled something in me. And going back to some of his earlier works in the light of Moonlight Chicken because part of the whole point of the crossover—and of crossovers in general—but in this particular crossover is intertextuality. When we were talking about Bad Buddy. When we were, like, thick in the things of Bad Buddy. We're talking about text and subtext and metatext working together to tell this story, and the thing that didn't become a part of that story—there were hints of it, mostly in the Pa and Ink storyline—but the thing that was hinted at, but not really fully grasped onto, was intertextuality.

Like, the conversation that different pieces of art are having between themselves. And one thing that this special—that the crossover delves into now—is the intertextuality.

Ben

I particularly like it because you have two leads interacting with each other and I find that sometimes we can get a little too archetypical about the leads of shows. By forcing the audience to consider who Pat and Pran are relative to Tian and Phupha, it forces you to revisit how you've been viewing them the whole time. Like, Pran thinking that he was Tian, and us maybe getting a little too caught up in that. Because, like we called it at the end of the first episode! We're like, “Why does he look so much like Tian? That feels off.” And it was off! 

Oh. I wasn't trying to make a pun there.

He's not like Tian. Like, as soon as I saw them I was like, “Why would they compare him to Tian? He doesn't feel like Tian to me?” I was right! And so, we get to the end of this whole shebang, and I am having a blast. Like I'm watching people having to sort themselves out like “Did I like this? Did I not like this?” 

I was drinking a mojito, having a good time, after this ended. I was drunk at the reception hanging out with some lesbians.

Nini

I mean in the end is it not the place that you want to be? I feel like it all worked out super well, and one of the reasons that it worked out super well is that these two stories had to be in some ways told together. And yeah, one got a little subsumed to the other. But that's the way that it had to be at this point in time.

Ben

I think it was pragmatic.

Nini

Yeah, I think if we had caught up with them and done this crossover at a different stage in each of their relationships a different problem would have come to the surface, and maybe a different arrangement of the two couples might have happened. And that's also something that we need to think about in terms of the specifics of when in the story narrative and the timeline of the stories that Aof chose to set this particular crossover. 

When it comes to Aof I'm always thinking about what he's trying to do, because one of the things that has been very clear to me throughout his oeuvre, but particularly in Bad Buddy, is that…he is always going to tell the story that he wants to tell. He's not overly concerned about making it fit into certain narrative structures. He's not overly concerned about making it fit into audience expectations. He wants to tell certain stories, and that's what he's gonna do. And that was made very clear to me with Bad Buddy 12, because that defied every narrative expectation—every audience expectation—to speak a truth that Aof had on his spirit.

Ben

The other thing for me—this is the part where I’m gonna get a little bit grumpy again. It is expensive to make television. Like, the biggest thing that stands out to me with all of Our Skyy is how stripped-down all of it looked.

Like they filmed in like one or two locations at most it felt like half the time, and they had really short filming schedules, and everybody had to be good very quickly. There's not a lot of runup time. It feels like people just brought whatever they still had left from the last performance and they just ran with it. Everybody had to be really good, and it's expensive to film on that mountain. And so Aof needed to justify that particular crossover, by using the most potent talent he had.

Like, there's a huge Bad Buddy fandom. There's a pretty solid contingent of people who like A Tale of Thousand Stars. And for A Tale of Thousand Stars to get something good, he needed to merge the Bad Buddy budget with the Thousand Stars budget.

But also, they didn't want to touch their ending, which is why he sets Bad Buddy before its ending, but Tian and Phupha only at the beginning of their romance when we leave them. They have more work to do, so they can have an epilogue story that really hammers into some really interesting stuff, which we just spent the last hour or so talking about. 

But it's done really efficiently! Like for the most part we all seem to enjoy Our Skyy, and they manage to do that with their limited budget. Like Pat and Pran are in a different room because it's probably cheaper to use this room. There's less people in Pha Pun Dao this time. Au is running around in the background as an extra! Wasn't he the damn director of the Kwan and Riam play? [shushes] Don't pay attention to that. A bunch of guys are running around with masks on—that's probably just crew members!

Nini

I did sort of love that chewing gum and string energy these productions can bring that is really sort of the heart of the Our Skyy franchise. I feel like I like that because to me that means it's for the art. If you're going to do this on chewing gum and string it's because you really fucking care. Like if you're going to do a story like this on string and chewing gum, it's because you really want to tell this fucking story. And in the end that's where I land on the vast majority of Our Skyy 2.

Ben

So what's our final verdict on Our Skyy then? Worth it? Not worth it?

Nini

Before we get to our final verdict on our Our Skyy, we didn't give our final verdict on the crossover. 

Ben

Oh, it's a 10. [slams desk and laughs]

Nini

It's a 10! It's a 10! It's a 10! Let's just—let's just—let's let it go. Right? It's a 10 for drama and a 10 for crack because what is more cracky than a crossover? And so it averages out to 10. Have I got quibbles with it? Yes. Do they, in the grand scheme of things, matter to my enjoyment of it? Absolutely not. It's a 10—point blank period.

Ben

It didn't waste my time. They set out a really interesting premise: what if Tian published his diary? What if “lonely queer looking for meaning and community” Pran found it? What if he met them? What do they do if they meet each other? Like, they follow through on that in a way that gave us so much to talk about for two weeks. 

And it was fun seeing the whole fandom come alive and see people revisit characters! It was fun seeing people change their opinions on Phupha, and even Earth and Mix as the result of watching this. That was so much fun. 

Nini

It was delightful. It was enjoyable. It was meaningful. It was narratively enjoyable at least for me, it was a 10. I loved it and one of the things that I love most about it is that Pat gets to lick Pran's finger this time.

Ben

Oh my god.

Nini

I mean, it's just the slutiness of it all! Pat gets to lick Pran's finger. Phupha gets to touch his titties in a sexy kind of way. They get to make out with that damn mosquito net, and I enjoyed every single second of it. I laughed, I cried, I…felt warmth deep inside. 

1:59:13 - Overall Score for Our Skyy 2

Nini

All that said, in terms of the overall—let’s give an overall score for Our Skyy 2. Ben, what do you think?

Ben

With the caveat that you should only really engage with the Our Skyy content if you liked the original show, it's a 9. 

Like, I didn't like Vice Versa and I didn't like Star in My Mind when I watched them the first time, and so everything I didn't like about those shows was present in their Our Skyy offerings. I don't think it's very fair of me to be especially mean about their Our Skyy offerings when they are in line with what the audience has been taught to expect. If the audience likes that more power to them. But for the six shows that I genuinely liked, I had a good time with these. 

Like, the weakest shows in this that I had a hard time with on the front end were A Boss and a Babe and Never Let Me Go. And I really liked what Jojo did with Never Let Me Go, and I thought that A Boss and a Babe actually had a really interesting story this time. But I loved The Eclipse and I thought Golf was great with this outing. I thought the cast was great in The Eclipse outing, and I felt like that about Bad Buddy and A Tale of Thousand Stars, and I felt like that about My School President. 

I had a great time! It gets a 9 overall. Like, there are quibbles—it's not always the best thing, and it forces you to maybe look back at a show and alter the way you felt about it. And if you'd rather lock the show in a mental prism of where you last left it, maybe don't watch these offerings? But if you grow and change, and you kind of want to imagine what your characters are like if they also grow and change, then maybe it's worth checking out for you. 

It's a 9. Highly recommended.

Nini

For you, the score is always about a recommendation. For me, it's always about do I like this? How much do I like this? And for me, for the vast majority of Our Skyy, I fuckin’ loved it. So I also give it a 9. I don't have any caveats about recommending it to anybody or anything like that. I just had, for the most part, a whale of a fucking time. And so, it's a 9! I enjoyed myself! 

So kind of in our own form of intertextuality harkening back to our Season 2: Electric Boogaloo episode of the Spring Series, and talking about sequels. So, Ben, after Our Skyy 2, how are you feeling about sequels?

Ben

Enthusiastic? [laughs] I mean, come on, man, like, this was fucking good. We need to think about how these characters stay together. That can be so rewarding to think about and it's good for the audience to think about it. 

I hope we see Pat and Pran in 10 years after their little sprout has blossomed, and maybe they're considering something else. I'm totally down to return to characters every couple of years for check-ins. That totally works for me, and I think that there is value in transitioning the types of stories we tell with characters over time, because they're going to face a variety of situations over time, so it can be so, so rewarding for us as viewers to go on those new journeys with them.

Nini

How do I…feel about sequels? Again, it's the same way I always feel. I feel like when there's story still to tell, I'm ready to see it. I'm ready to hear it. And if I feel like there isn't anything left to say, then I'm not interested. That's largely where I landed with the Our Skyy episodes for the most part where I felt like there was story left to tell. I thoroughly enjoyed getting that story and then those, like Star in My Mind, where I felt like there was no story, I wasn’t really interested. 

So, do I feel pumped about sequels and the whole idea of following these boys into the “staying together” part of things? Yes, that's something that I'm always going to enjoy, and if that means conflict, I am fine with that. I enjoy watching them navigate that, whether the conflict is minor or  major, I am having a blast with that in my mind. 

And…I can't wait for Our Skyy 3. 

That is going to wrap us up on the Our Skyy 2 episode. Y'all are going to hear the edited version of this, but I just want you all to know that we've been talking for three hours, and we've been having a great time. See y’all in the next one. Say bye to the people, Ben.

Ben

Welcome back, my boyfriend!

Nini

[laughs] Bye.

[depressedhouseplant]

🔞 Cops & Robbers 🔞

Chapter 7

Tags: The smut has returned! Also dead body. Not at the same time though

Younghoon knew Juyeon was sitting outside the room. He’d heard him arguing with Eric earlier. Younghoon was surprised the youngest hadn’t caved when Juyeon started all but interrogating him about Younghoon. He hadn’t talked to Eric per se, but Eric had taken it upon himself to make sure Younghoon was eating and Bori was getting walked. Otherwise, Younghoon refused to open the door. He was in horrific pain because he’d gone three days without pain medication. Eric offered to bring some, but Younghoon didn’t have the stomach to inject himself. The rib pain was the worst. He got winded even walking from the bed to the bathroom.

“I know you’re there,” Younghoon sat with his back to the door.

“I guess I haven’t been very subtle,” Juyeon replied.

“Have you slept?” he asked.

“What do you think?” Juyeon huffed.

“Stop dodging the question,” Younghoon admonished. Silence. “I’m waiting.”

He saw the shadow on the other side of the door shift.

“A few hours here and there,” he finally replied.

“If I let you in, will you sleep?” Younghoon offered.

“Is that your only request?” Juyeon asked.

“That and a shot of morphine,” he replied. “Eric should be back with Bori soon.”

“I can do that. I’ll get the pain meds and bring Bori up,” Younghoon felt the door move when Juyeon got up. He managed to force himself up to standing.

“Shit,” he hissed, limping over to the bed. He’d barely managed to settle when he heard a knock. “Come in.”

Juyeon looked like hell. His hair was a mess probably from running his hands through it constantly. It was another one of his anxious habits. The dark circles under his eyes looked like bruises. Even his skin looked sallow.

“You…look terrible,” Younghoon winced.

“You’re not the first person to tell me that in the past few days,” Juyeon said placidly. He put Bori on the floor and sat next to Younghoon. “Haunch please.”

Younghoon pulled down the waist of his pants so Juyeon could give him the shot.

“All done,” They stared at each other for a moment.

“I haven’t showered in four days because I still can’t move my side much,” Younghoon said.

“Neither have I, but for different reasons,” Juyeon admitted.

“Can you help me shower?” Younghoon asked. Juyeon smiled and reached out to touch Younghoon’s face then pulled his hand back. “It’s okay.”

“Thank you,” Juyeon put his hand on Younghoon’s jaw.

“I need you to promise me something,” Younghoon put his hand over Juyeon’s.

“Anything,” he nodded.

“Tell me when you find something. Even if you think it’ll upset me, don't hide it. Please?” he requested. Juyeon paused.

“Okay, I’ll tell you everything I know,” he agreed.

“Thank you,” Younghoon squeezed his hand. “Now I desperately need a shower.”

“Me too,” Juyeon helped him up and into the bathroom. It was almost as big as the one in Juyeon’s bedroom. Younghoon would have preferred a bath, but Kevin didn’t want him soaking his stitches.

“You know this is the first time we’ve both been naked since we had sex,” Younghoon observed as Juyeon helped him get undressed.

“I helped you shower before,” Juyeon replied.

“I didn’t wash my hair so you sat outside the shower,” Younghoon reminded him.

“Oh, I guess I did,” Juyeon said. “However, Kevin was very clear about no sex.”

“Doesn’t mean you can’t kiss me,” Younghoon smiled a little.

“Sounds like that pain medication is kicking in,” Juyeon teased as he helped Younghoon into the shower.

“It might be,” Younghoon wrapped his arms around Juyeon’s hips.

“What about your nose?” the other man asked.

“It only hurts when I touch it now. Apparently noses heal relatively quickly,” Younghoon replied.

“Then I would very much like to kiss you,” Juyeon smiled so his eyes crinkled. Younghoon didn’t reply, instead slotting their mouths together. He felt Juyeon’s hands slide up into his hair. He didn’t realize how touch starved he was until he felt Juyeon’s bare skin against his own.

“I missed this,” he breathed.

“Me too,” Juyeon agreed, moving his lips down Younghoon’s neck.

“Mark me up,” Younghoon knotted his fingers in Juyeon’s hair.

“Of course, darling,” he replied, nipping and sucking. Younghoon thought back to Chanhee teasing him about the original hickey. Regardless of what Younghoon believed about the afterlife, he knew his best friend would want him to be happy. Right now, Juyeon made him happy.

“Want you inside me,” Younghoon whined after they got out of the shower, Juyeon had toweled them off, and Younghoon was perched on Juyeon’s lap.

“I want that too, but Kevin was very clear about no sex,” Juyeon agreed, kissing Younghoon’s jaw.

“There has to be something,” he insisted.

“Do you think you could hold still if I suck your cock?” Juyeon asked.

“Well, I won’t move around enough to rip my stitches,” Younghoon replied.

“Here,” Juyeon moved Younghoon off his lap and made a pillow nest at the head of the bed. “Tell me how that feels”

Younghoon lied back and settled into the plush surface.

“This is good,” he nodded.

“Just know that I’ll hold you down if I have to. Can’t have you hurting yourself more,” Juyeon looked at him.

“I asked for this so if I do then I have no one to blame but myself,” Younghoon smiled.

“I trust you,” Juyeon said as he settled between Younghoon’s legs. The other man was already hard from their aggressive makeout session in the shower. Juyeon dragged his tongue up the underside, stopping to tease the tip with his tongue.

“Almost forgot how good you taste,” he smirked. He took the tip in his mouth, sucking lightly. Younghoon started to shift above him.

“Why does this feel so fucking good and you’ve barely started?” Younghoon whined. “I’m not gonna last long.”

“The better for your ribs then,” Juyeon said, placing his hands on the other man’s hips. This time he swallowed him down completely. Younghoon groaned and bucked his hips into Juyeon’s mouth. He felt Juyeon smile against his cock as he kept licking. Even with Juyeon holding him down, it took everything Younghoon had to keep from squirming around.

“Your mouth, fuck, how are you, shit, amazing,” he babbled. Juyeon simply stroked the inside of Younghoon’s hip bones with his thumbs. Juyeon wrapped his lips around his teeth and lightly bit down. Younghoon came down his throat with no warning. He clutched the pillows and managed to not thrash around. Juyeon slowly pulled off and rested his chin on Younghoon’s thigh.

“So was it me or was it the fact you haven’t had your dick sucked in a while?” He grinned.

“You,” Younghoon panted. “Definitely you.”

“Good answer,” Juyeon rolled over and rested next to Younghoon. “Want to taste yourself?”

“Please,” he whimpered. Juyeon kissed him, making sure to use plenty of tongue. Younghoon returned the kiss, happily accepting Juyeon’s tongue in his mouth.

“Well?” Juyeon asked when he finally pulled back.

“Not as weird as I thought it would be,” Younghoon replied.

“It’s kinda sexy that you’re willing to do it in the first place,” he smiled.

“What about you?” Younghoon nodded at Juyeon’s cock.

“I’m fine. Not the first time I’ve had blue balls and it won’t be the last,” he kissed Younghoon again. “I did promise you I’d sleep.”

“You did,” Younghoon confirmed.

“Let me do one thing first,” he got up and took his phone out of his pants pocket. Younghoon watched as he sent a message then turned his phone off.

“What’d you do?” He asked.

“Told everyone to leave us alone unless the house is on fire,” Juyeon replied as he got back in bed. “Hyunjae and Changmin can handle anything that comes up.”

“Sounds good,” Younghoon settled down next to him.

“Good night, darling,” Juyeon kissed his hair.

“Good night,” Younghoon carefully nuzzled Juyeon’s jaw. Finally, finally they both drifted off to sleep.

“It’s been nine hours,” Changmin huffed.

“And Juyeon has been actively refusing to sleep for a week. Let him rest,” Hyunjae replied.

“Why are you being so bitchy anyway? Still mad you had to poke a corpse?” Sunwoo asked from behind his laptop.

“I’m not mad I had to poke a corpse. I’m frustrated that he runs off to Younghoon constantly,” Changmin flopped on the couch next to Hyunjae and crossed his arms.

“Are you jealous?” Hyunjae grinned.

“What? No! Why would I be jealous?” Changmin protested.

“Because Juyeon’s hot and god knows the last time you got laid,” Sunwoo chimed in.

“I am not interested in him. He’s my boss,” Changmin glared at the other man.

“Like no one has ever thirsted after their boss,” Hyunjae snorted.

“If I said I was jealous would it shut you two up?” Changmin asked.

“If it’s true then maybe,” Sunwoo looked at Hyunjae. The other man nodded. Changmin looked between them.

“I’m not jealous, I’m just…confused. They tried to kill each other multiple times and all of a sudden Juyeon is losing his shit if something even remotely upsets Younghoon? I don’t understand the total 180 that’s happened,” Changmin sighed.

“Maybe their relationship is more complex than we realize? Juyeon’s open with us, but he doesn’t have to be. I’d like to think if any of us wanted to date someone he’d be supportive,” Hyunjae suggested.

“That’s exactly it! He’s with someone who's supposed to be on the other side! He’s not supposed to want someone who’s supposed to put him in prison!” Changmin yelled. The other two jumped.

“Can you control who you fall in love with?” Sunwoo asked after a long pause.

“I’m not in love with anyone,” Changmin retorted.

“But if you were, do you really think you could control your feelings for someone regardless of which side they were on? I think we’ve gone way beyond taking sides. Juyeon didn’t have to let Younghoon in. He could’ve let him die. Are we bad guys because we break the law? Yes. Are we bad guys because we actively hurt people who have nothing to do with our lives? No. I think you’ve gotten a little too caught up on the technicalities rather than the reality of the situation,” Hyunjae told him.

“Do you really believe that?” Changmin’s tone softened.

“I do,” Hyunjae said. “Juyeon wouldn’t have made us his seconds if he didn’t trust us. Maybe it’s time you trusted him.”

Changmin looked down at his lap. Hyunjae and Sunwoo waited for him to say something.

“It’s always been black and white. There’s good guys and bad guys. There’s cops and robbers. The rules are simple,” he didn’t look up.

“Sometimes good guys do bad things and bad guys do good things. In case you didn’t notice, we don’t exactly follow rules,” Hyunjae put his hand on Changmin’s shoulder. Before Changmin replied, Sunwoo’s laptop dinged.

“What is it?” Changmin asked.

“It shouldn’t have taken this long, but I got another name. Seo Changbin was arrested with Han Jisung. Guess we know who we’re going to be talking to next,” Sunwoo replied.

“I’m not sure talking is how this is gonna go,” Hyunjae observed.

“Should we wake Juyeon up?” Sunwoo asked.

“Let him sleep. This will be a nice surprise for him when he wakes up,” Changmin grinned.

“Nothing good ever happens when you say shit like that,” Hyunjae said.

“I’m a bad guy, aren’t I?” Changmin replied. “Now let’s show Seo Changbin some TBZ hospitality.”

Younghoon woke up when Bori started scratching at the door to get out. Juyeon was still asleep, his arms locked around Younghoon’s waist. The clock helpfully informed him that it was 2am. They’d been asleep for almost 10 hours. The puppy started whining.

“Babe,” Younghoon shifted.

“Mmph?” Juyeon grunted

“I’ve got to take Bori out. I won’t be gone long,” he said.

“Promise?” Juyeon mumbled.

“Promise. Hopefully you’re awake enough to remember this conversation,” Younghoon kissed Juyeon’s hair and extracted himself from his grasp. Younghoon pulled on some clothes and opened the door. Bori bounded down the stairs toward the back door. Hyunjae, Changmin, and Sunwoo were sitting in the living room.

“What’s going on?” Younghoon asked carefully.

“Juyeon will kill us if we tell you,” Sunwoo replied. “Metaphorically.”

“I convinced him to stop hiding things from me. Take this conversation outside?” Younghoon suggested.

“I’ll go,” Hyunjae volunteered. Of course he’d volunteer when Bori was involved. The puppy still hadn’t accepted him in spite of Hyunjae’s best efforts.

“So what happened?” Younghoon didn’t look at him when they got outside, opting to watch Bori sniff the flowers.

“We found a guy who was arrested with Jisung. He’s in the basement,” Hyunjae told him. Younghoon turned his head slowly.

“He’s where?”

“In the basement. We don’t only have a full medical setup there. There might be a room or two dedicated to enhanced interrogation techniques,” Hyunjae replied.

“Torture?” Younghoon repeated.

“Well we aren’t going to start with the bamboo shoots under the fingernails until we know he was involved. Which means you have to identify him,” Hyunjae said. One of them was still alive. At least, that’s what the other three thought. Younghoon didn’t want to come face to face with his potential kidnapper. He knew it was necessary. He had to do it for Chanhee even if he didn’t do it for himself.

“I assume Juyeon doesn’t know,” Younghoon said.

“We collectively decided to let him sleep. You happened to get up first,” the other man replied. Younghoon looked back at Bori walking around the yard.

“I’ll do it,” he agreed.

“This is disgusting,” Jongho grumbled, looking at all the trash from the river.

“If you think this is gross, wait until they pull out a body that’s been in the water for 12 days,” Yunho said.

“When do you think he’ll call off the search? It’s been three days and we haven’t found anything other than an old fridge and a bunch of beer cans,” Jongho questioned.

“He won’t call it off until either we find the body or Juyeon tells him to,” Yunho looked at the other man.

“How did a criminal get the chief of police to do something for him?” It wasn’t really a question.

“Apparently they were friends when they were kids. That’s all I know,” Yunho said.

“Officers!” One of the searchers yelled to them and waved.

“Oh shit,” Yunho said under this breath. Jongho took a deep breath and followed Yunho over to the group.

“We found something on the monitor. It looks like the right size,” he said.

“Go ahead and bring it up,” Yunho told him. The team navigated to the mass they saw on the screen. Jongho kept glancing at Yunho as they slowly pulled it out of the water. They dragged a black bag onto the river bank. It was weighed down with cinder blocks.

“You might want to hold your breath,” the searcher warned them. He donned gloves and cut the bag open. The smell was enough to make them dry heave.

“Told you,” he said.

The body was bloated and decomposing, but the blond hair and slight frame matched Chanhee.

“Looks like him,” Jongho coughed.

“I’ll let the chief know. Go ahead and send him to the medical examiner for an autopsy,” Yunho gagged.

“Can do,” the searcher replied. Yunho walked far enough away from the group that no one could hear him.

“Yes?” The voice asked when he picked up.

“They found him,” Yunho said.

“And you identified him?”

“Yes,” Yunho confirmed.

“Good. I can’t have you giving anything away,”

“No, sir,” he agreed.

“Make sure everything is in order with the paperwork after the autopsy,”

“You want me to watch them autopsy him?” Yunho stifled a gag.

“Of course not. I need you to make sure that there’s nothing anyone can question on the paperwork. Am I clear?”

“Yes, sir,” he replied.

“Very good. Take Jongho with you. Let me know when everything is complete,”

“Yes, sir,” Yunho nodded even though he couldn’t see him. The voice on the other end didn’t reply. He simply ended the call.

“Fuck,” Yunho swore under his breath. He never should’ve agreed to this.

[sev-on-kamino]

30 Days of Blossoming Romance (9)

Day 9: Exchanging gifts for the first time (prompt list here)

Tup x afab!Reader

warnings: we’re back in the fluff zone! I made up my own holiday, and with all the planets in the Republic, it feels like I can get a pass for that. I attempted to proofread but my brain is fried, pls gimme grace 😅

word count: 1276

Tup didn’t have much, if any, dating experience to compare it to, but he knew that he felt different with you. Like the claws of war couldn’t take him under as long as you were there. Like there was a future where the two of you could have the sort of life in the sweet stories you read to him off of your holopad.

Every moment with you felt like a gift, so when you told him you were nearing a holiday on your home world where friends exchanged gifts and treats, he knew he had to find the perfect gift. Searching was difficult because troopers didn’t have a lot of free time, and what little Tup had was spent with you. Worried he’d blow the whole surprise, he enlisted Jesse and Fives to keep you busy.

“And you need me to do this now?” you asked, looking at the pair of ARC troopers in front of you like they each had two heads.

“Yes, we need a neutral third party, and here you are,” Jesse said looking hopeful for a yes.

“It’s just sparring though. What’s the score for?” you asked.

“It helps Rex in our quarterly assessments,” Fives said grinning.

“Quarterly assessments?” Your eyes narrowed.

They both nodded, and began to drag you towards the training room.

“Listen, boys, it’s not that I don’t want to help, it’s just that I haven’t seen Tup in like 3 days, and I miss him, so…” you trailed off. The neediness in your voice made both of them feel guilty for lying, but confident that you’d appreciate whatever Tup presented you with.

“Rex has him and Kix doing something or another, so you can help while he’s out,” Jesse said.

“Fine, fine, I’ll help,” you conceded, so they’d stop tugging you along. They were awful liars, and you didn’t buy it for a second, but you were curious about their endgame.

***

Kix and Tup were scouring the lower levels of Coruscant for something special for you. Despite each of them having deep wells of patience, they were both growing frustrated. Tup was frustrated with the search, Kix was frustrated with Tup.

“It just has to be perfect,” Tup said frowning as he passed yet another stall.

“We’ve passed no less than a dozen things she’d love, vod,” Kix replied.

Tup paused and looked at Kix.

“I’ve completely overthought this, haven’t I?”

“It’s understandable. You want it to be special for her, but she just wants you.”

A smile spread across Tup’s face at that, and he suddenly knew exactly what to get you.

***

Your calendar beeped and you were struck with a wave of homesickness. It was the morning of Wintersbloom back home. That night the Snow Lilies would blossom, and everyone would share gifts and food. Your eyes flitted over to the neatly wrapped gift you’d grabbed for Tup after Jesse and Fives had set you free for the afternoon. You hadn’t gotten to see Tup at all except for passing each other in the corridor as you came to grab food from the mess hall before bed. Seeing his face had given you a boost, but you needed more. You wanted to hold his hand, snuggle up against him. You didn’t even care that you were being needy at this point. You just wanted 10 uninterrupted minutes where you could give him the attention he deserved.

The thought of his face lighting up when he opened his gift quelled the twisting pain in your stomach, and silenced the needy voice in your head, as you forced yourself out of bed. It would be a great night, and if you were lucky, you could kiss him at what would be twilight back home. It was a good omen for a relationship, and in the midst of a war, you needed all the help you could get.

At approximately 1700 hours, Tup walked into the med bay looking excited yet nervous. You brightened instantly at the sight of him. Racing around your desk, you leapt right into his arms. He held you tightly, pressing his face into your neck.

“Hi, mesh’la, can I steal you away for a little while?” he asked.

“I can’t really leave right now, but I got you a Wintersbloom gift!”

“No, no!” Kix said, interrupting you. “You can leave for a little while. I’ll comm you if I need you.”

“I don’t care what anyone says, you’re the best, Kix,” you say grinning, as you put your things.

“Awww thanks…wait, who said otherwise?” He questioned, brow furrowed.

“See ya in a bit!” you said grabbing Tup’s hand, and dragging him towards the exit.

“You’re gonna tell me later,” he shouts at your retreating figures.

***

Tup lead you to the starboard observation room. You’re surprised it’s empty, as there was almost someone in there relaxing, reading, or napping. The pair of you sat in the window seat facing each other. Your heart raced, as you pulled your gift for him out of your pocket. A small package, wrapped in purple silk, held closed with a silvery cord.

“Mesh’la, what-? It’s so fancy. I hope you didn’t spend too much,” Tup said even more anxious about his present for you.

“Oh stop it, Tup,” you shushed him. “You deserve this and so much more.” You pressed the gift into his hands. You swallow before continuing.

“So back home, what you wrap a gift in is as important as the gift.”

Tup toys with the cord, “So what does purple silk mean?”

“Silk for romance, purple for trust.”

Tup looked up at you then, vulnerable, gentle. Your heart skipped a beat. He was so beautiful, so kind, so yours. He pulled at the cord, and the silk fell away revealing a small box.

He opened the little box, and found a flat, bright blue metal disc with coordinates around the rim.

“That’s where we were when we first met,” you supplied. You bit your lip as you watched him pull off one of his gloves to lift the little disc, and hold it in his hand. He looked up at you once more, and cupped your face with his free hand to bring his lips to yours. The kiss was like Tup. Gentle on the surface, hiding power and passion underneath.

When he pulled away he rested his forehead against yours.

“Thank you, cyare.”

“You’re welcome. I’m so glad you like it.”

He kissed you softly once more before passing you a little box as well. You accepted it with a grin, fingers rubbing over the soft surface before you opened it and lifted out a little tear-shaped pendant. It was made of blue and white plastoid with soft black fabric on the back.

“Is this what I think it is?” You asked, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. Tup nodded.

“Yeah, it’s bit of my armor. I needed a new pauldron, so I saved a piece of the old one for you, and the fabric is from my blacks. Do you…”

“I love it!” You interrupted, throwing your arms around him. “It’s a little piece of you that I can always keep close. Thank you, Tup.”

“Anything for you, mesh’la.”

“Really? Because I would really love one more thing that only you can give me,” you said scooting closer.

“It’s yours.”

Your watch beeped again.

“A kiss. My people believe a kiss at twilight provides a relationship with good fortune.”

Tup replied by wrapping his arms around you, and kissing you deeply. The ache that had lingered inside you all day began to dissipate, and a warm satisfaction took its place.

[idiotuvu-blog]

plucked petals

Hiii!!!

This is my first time posting a fan fic on here, it's not a self-insert and follows my OC, Ivy!

I really hope ya'll like it and if there's anything I should change or tweak please let me know- I'm open to criticism and pointers about where this should head. :) I do wanna open this up to some smut and romance but I'm not 100% sure.

TW: ANGST ASF!! death of a parent (mom), Chris being a shitty dad, smoking, mild cussing, self-hatred (in a way), and cancer.

Word count: 2,575

ENJOY!!!

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I never really knew my dad. I know his name, I know that he looks a little bit like me, and I know my mom was crazy over him but other than that? Nothing. I remember his faint outline from before he left us when I was 4, but who remembers stuff that far back the correct way? My mom kept a picture of him around but it was only a couple. One was them, clearly drunk, at a party back in 2001, celebrating the new year.

My mom’s pale face had red from the liquor dancing with her blush, it went hand in hand with her wild red hair, curls poking out from different directions. Her smile was always the prettiest thing, I’m glad I inherited her joy. On the other side of the picture was an equally, if not more, drunk man. His tan skin and dark brown hair stood out next to my mom, he was tall and very lean. My mom would say “Oh, Ivy. He was a Greek statue come to life” Her high-pitched voice always soothed me “He carried me into my room one time, I was blushin' up a storm!” she would finish with a laugh. 

Once I turned 16 her laugh quit being full of life, it would end with a cough or her catching her breath. One day when she was at work, she worked at the post office in town, she passed out as she was helping someone mail something off. I got a call from one of my mom’s friends and I immediately skipped 7th period to go to the hospital, my mom and I were connected in a way that I couldn’t explain. 

I always thought it was that she saw my dad in me, we didn’t look exactly like twins but I leaned a little bit to how he looked. We shared the same blue eyes, dark brown hair, and wide shoulders. I always hated my shoulders, just another thing on the list. They made me look even wider than I was, my plush body wasn’t as big as my mom’s but it was still something that made me stand out. 

When I got into the room my mom looked terrible, her smile was dulled and her wild hair was spread over the pillow she was leaning on. I rushed over and picked her hand, my thumb creasing her hand and all she did was look up at me, a little smile on her face. The doctors came in and explained that she had cervical cancer and it was spreading at an alarming rate, there was nothing they could do other than just offer her meds for the pain.

We cried, of course, we cried more than we’ve ever cried. A couple of hours passed after some shared tears and prayers, I wasn’t very religious but at that moment I knew I had to beg whoever was up there for something, anything. My phone started buzzing in my pocket, I grabbed it and read the name carefully ‘Dad’. The last time I heard from him was when I was 12, he was some military guy that moved around a lot. 

He lived in Oregon, which was very far from Wisconsin, and didn’t talk about his work a lot. He always missed holidays and birthdays, he never called, only a short ‘Happy birthday, sport’ or ‘Merry Christmas, kiddo’ text and some little gift he would send me. Usually some shitty art box or makeup box, he never knew what I liked or what my interests are and I always blamed myself for that. I thought I messed everything up just by existing, by just being born and breathing, or maybe it was the fact I wasn’t a boy. 

Maybe he wanted to be a boy dad? To play baseball with someone or teach them how to work on a car, not princess parties or Barbies. I thought about this as I watched his name disappear from my phone. Maybe he was coming home? Had some change of heart or finally wanted to talk to me. I looked over at my mom and I gave her a fake smile “It’s Tiffany, I’m gonna step out and call her back, okay? I’ll be right outside.” I would tell her- not wanting to say ‘Hi, remember the man who left you and moved across the country? Well, he finally wants to hopefully play dad so I’m gonna call him back!’. She just nodded her head, the medicine made her tired so as I stood up I kissed her forehead and left the room, holding my phone with a tight grip. 

I stepped out into the hall and stared at the message on my phone that popped up after I missed the call from him. 

"DAD: Hey kiddo, call me back. "

I just stared at the message, ‘kiddo’ was always my name to him. Never Ivy, my real name, or hell even our shared last name Redfield. I let go of a breath I didn’t even know I was holding and I hit the redial button next to his name. The line rang for about 2 rings before a gruff voice that I didn’t remember spoke up “Hello?” it said, as if I was bothering him. I stuttered for a moment “Hi, it's uh… It’s Ivy. What’s up?” I tried to sound unbothered but I’m guessing I failed since there was a pause on his end. “I heard what happened, with your mom and I guess I’m just checking in on you”.

My thoughts raced with questions, ‘How did he know? It’s only been 3 hours since the doctors talked to us and neither of us has been on our phones…’. “Oh really?” I wanted to ask how but honestly I didn’t care- I was mad. Mad that my mother dying, the mother of his only child dying. My blood boiled a little as I forced a nice reply. “I’m rolling with the punches I guess, mom is sleeping and I’m uh…” I take a deep breath to try to calm myself down before tears rush down my face, not wanting to face his harsh reality. “I feel like I’m drowning.” I choke out, tears making their way down my face. It was uncontrollable now, I was letting my walls down for a man who I hadn’t seen in 12 years.

 I was guilty of being an open book, I mean I could open up to someone just minding their business. I guess I caught him off guard as he looked around for a minute to respond to me as if I was making this hard for him. As if I’m just something he can just talk to for 5 minutes and it’ll make up for years of missing that key father figure in my life. “I figured,” he said, his voice still strong and unwavering. I opened my mouth, I was an off-put, how dare he call me to just make me feel worse? My mother is dying slowly, painfully, and with her 16-year-old daughter as a crutch to ease the pain, along with her meds. “I wanted to offer you to move in with me,” He said, someone talking in the background on his side, sounded like he was at some mall or somewhere busy. At this point I’m mad, he wants me to leave my mom? Alone?

I wipe my tears and try to straighten myself up, ‘no’ I wanted to say ‘why the hell would you even offer me to leave mom?’ I wanted to bark. Instead, I just said “Why?”, a feeble and weak notion of how I’m feeling- defeated and done. “I know this is hard for you. I wanted to offer to enroll you in school here in California. I could get you into a good academy and after you can come to work with me.” He said in a very matter-of-fact tone. I roll my eyes, ‘guess he moved again’ I think to myself.

That was it. I was mad, pissed, and manic even. This was just a recruitment to whatever the hell he does for a job, he didn’t care. He didn’t care that my mom was dying, he didn’t care that I was in one of the toughest situations in my life, he wanted a perfect little daughter. Someone feeble, who would go ‘Yes Dad! I would love to make up for the 12 years you missed! Please! Pick me!’ and little did he know I split. 

I wanted to be his perfect daughter, I wanted to go out on daddy-daughter dates or go to the zoo with him or hell- work with him at whatever shit hole military place he was at but I shook that thought out of my head, keeping my priorities straight. I took a deep breath and opened my mouth “I-” I was ready to give him a piece of my mind, to tell him off for everything, making me feel like I wasn’t enough, making me question myself but I was cut off by the other end of my phone “Redfield, we’re ready to roll out” some woman’s voice cut through. I heard him mumble a ‘one second’ before turning his, apparently important, attention to me. “Just think it over, kiddo. I’ll talk to you later” and a second later the phone line cut out. 

I stood there for a moment, shocked. 4 minutes and 12 seconds is how long I was worth to him before ending our conversation without hesitation. I made my way back into the room and sat next to my sleeping mom, the medicine must have knocked her out. I was glad since I had silent tears running down my face. 

Jump to the present with me, It’s 9 am and I’m dressed in a black dress with my makeup and hair down as rain smeared my perfect facade and pelted down on me. I just got done burying my mom. I’m 22 now and 10 times more fragile than I was at 16, I stand alone as the crowd of people disperse. My eyes are glued onto my mom’s closed casket, there are roses with a heart on the top, I put my hand on the lower part of the casket and I lower my head. Tears started mixing with the rain, and the thunder drowned out my loud wailing as I started to rest my forehead on the casket.

I was finally able to let out all of my emotions and I was alone- no mom by my side to move the hair out of my face, no mom to kiss my head and say ‘It’s okay Ivy, even diamonds are made under a lot of pressure’. There was no more light anymore and just like the weather, I was not holding back, letting my weak side show after 4 years of being the strong one, watching her hair fall out because of the medicine or watching her lose a bunch of weight to where she was skin and bone. She stopped walking after her 3rd year of medicine and we went everywhere together when she would sleep I would do online classwork for my college classes, I wanted to make her proud. 

“God bless her.” a gruff voice said beside me, I watched the tan hand place a rose onto the heart of roses on her casket. I stood up straight and noticed the colossal man next to me was my father. He smelled like wood and a faint cologne that I couldn’t pinpoint, his blue eyes matched mine. He was in a black suit and in his other hand he held an obituary for my mother ‘Annabeth Marshal’, her name stood out to me before my matching blue eyes flicked back to his. “How…” I weakly start to speak but he cuts me off before I can finish “I wanted to support you, you’re my daughter and I love you.” he said as if that would fix the now 16 years apart from him. I run my hands through my hair as I try to compose myself “Support me? Now?” I ask him, my voice laced with venom.

“It’s been 16 years since you left and you expect me to what, let you back in my life? You called once, sent an occasional text and now you want me to believe that you love me?” I start crying harder, my words coming out choked. My hands shook with anger but all he did was look at me with surprise, his eyes wide. I noticed someone else I don’t know standing on a hill about 20 feet away smoking a cigarette, he looked like he was with my dad and was watching us. My eyes snap back to my dad “You couldn’t even come alone?” I ask him. My dad shook his head “It isn’t like that, Ivy” he said back, his tone becoming slightly more stern, “Oh!” I laugh “You know my name now?” I shake my head at him, I’m angry and the random man watching us while smoking is making everything else worse. “Of course, I know your name, you’re my daughter, and I, as your father-” He starts but I cut him off.

“You’re my father now? I haven’t seen you in years!” I cry a little bit harder and he sighs “I’m sorry about that, I needed to protect you and your mother. Listen, I want to be a better man for you. I’m sorry, but please… Listen to me.” he says as he moves his hand onto my shoulder. Once I feel the warmth from his hand on my shoulder, I start to lose control. I crumble because I realize I still love my dad and I want his acceptance. I’m confused as my head naturally finds its way to his chest and I start to sob, it’s like I’m a baby again and he’s holding me for the first time. He starts talking again, softer and a little bit nicer but still stern “I want you to move in with me. Make your mom even more proud of you than she already was. Start over fresh.” He says as he starts to softly rub my back as I cry harder. I catch my breath for a minute as his words linger in the air and I think about it for a minute. I huff a little as I mumble against his chest “Okay… I will.” I feel so small and weak as his chest rumbles with a laugh and he ruffles my hair.

“Great, Let’s get you a bag and I’ll send someone to get the rest of your stuff,” he says and I eat it up. I’m putty in his hands and it feels great, I’m finally with my dad. He started to lead me to a black car with tinted windows where the man who was smoking was leaning against. Watching is even more and I get to see him fully. He looks around my dad’s age dirty blonde hair with some grey, he has some stubble on his chin and he’s weirdly handsome. The black suit he’s wearing is just as drenched as my dress and my dad’s suit.  look back at my mother’s casket for the last time and I take a deep breath, knowing she would have wanted this for me.

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THANK YOU FOR READING!!!

Please let me know if theres anything I should add or if I should write a part 2! :)

[evesley]

Okay so I have some time to actually type a post about Andres

We met on bumble. He super swiped me.

We talked on and off for like a month. Usually like 2 lines a week/ 2 weeks.

We finally decided to meet up and we went to Cava. It went good. He told me he’s Syrian, but he was born in Venezuela so he can speak Spanish. He said that he’s the best of both worlds. I thought that was so hot. He got me with that.

We found out we both got into a car accident around the same time, and we both got a new car recently.

We ended up going to this party he knew about. He picked me up after I changed my clothes. It was a match day party for med students. Pretty cool. The crowd there was not who I’m used to hanging with, but it was still pretty lit. Met his friends. Pretty cool.

We went to bottled blonde in Fort Worth after that with a couple of his friends. I don’t really remember that part.

And then I invited them to an after party I knew about after that. They liked it. He liked me.

Then he took me home. Didn’t try to kiss me. Didn’t try to hug me. No hand holding. No touching. I liked that. I am so tired of guys trying to do things the first day. We got home right at sunrise. It was around 7am.

I went to work the next day. It sucked. But he texted me all day. We ended up hanging out after I got off. I told him I needed to go grocery shopping and decided to go on a walk to stay awake and maintain a sleep schedule. He asked if I wanted company, and I said yes. I thought this was cute.

We went to smoothie king and then went grocery shopping. He came to pick me up again. I really liked that. He has a brand new Lexus is350. It’s pretty nice.

When we were at Walmart, I recognized his Snapchat name. We’ve met before on Snapchat. He rejected me because I had a son. I remembered this. I kept on distance while with him.

We went to market street after. I wanted to do my thing while checking out, but self check outs were closed, so I put everything back. I was soooo embarrassed. He was okay with it. I was still so embarrassed. He dropped me off at home. No touching again. I liked that.

We didn’t talk the whole next day. I was too embarrassed.

He texted me a balance beam emoji. He told me embarrassing things about him to balance out my embarrassment. He was so sweet.

I told him I recognized him and that I have a son and that I’m not trying to mess around.

He gave me the best response ever. And then he told me he wanted to meet up bc he has something to tell me too. I rejected so hard. But then I gave in.

We had our first garage hang.

(I’m reminiscing so hard rn. Currently at the pool and trying not to cry.)

He told me he’s a part of this Druze religion and that we probably can’t date or anything. I told him I’m not looking to date not to marry.

But we kept talking. And hanging out. And he just did everything right. He was kind of everything I’ve been looking for.

We talked all day everyday, and we hung out almost everyday. “Garage hang” is what we called it.

Every question and every difficult topic we talked about- he answered it perfectly. The words. Just him in general.

We did so many things together. Hotel room bath tubs for bath bombs. The arboretum.

[radiantlyrey]

Thoughts on Uprising Ep 6 Isolated

- *rubs hands together* yessssssss give me the Paige backstoryyyyyyyy

- I’m gonna say Beck is mostly better at stealth missions?? Like this one still ends badly (for the most part), but at least he didn’t get caught in the middle of a bad situation like usual

- interesting to see Paige’s living quarters, and the last vestiges of her former life!! A photograph and a sound board. Poor bird…..

- aerial chase scene is pretty nice, tho less nice for Beck and Paige given it ends with them wrecked on an island

- like, I don’t have much to say about the A plot of Beck and Paige?? I love that Beck’s humane approach to being the Renegade shines through repeatedly with him. He won’t derezz programs, and he won’t let them die, either. Kiddo’s doing his best, and good for him.

- and then: MY GIRL QUORRA SHOWING UP IN FLASHBACK!!!!!!!! I love that they got Olivia Wilde to reprise her role here!! It’s so interesting to see what Quorra was like during the Purge (and before Flynn, too). You can tell that she’s not completely clueless or helpless; and while she may be naive in some respects she isn’t totally stupid either.

- also love/am interested in the whole thing about programs generally staying within their functions, and straying from that, while not totally taboo, is kind of unheard of and frowned upon by some. Paige is a med program who wants to make music. And I love that Quorra encourages her interest!!! Isos being unique in that they have no directive and can do anything they want—which is why Clu wants them destroyed, because anything he cannot control is dangerous and could turn against him. But I love that Quorra thinks that freedom should be extended to regular programs, too. It’s a sweet little moment between her and Paige.

- other stuff.. hm….. I can tell the creators were sort of positioning Beck and Paige as like the main relationship (romantic or otherwise) of the series?? Like, the flirting, for one thing. And then these moments of trust building and breaking between them. Given the reveal at the end with Tesler, I think maybe the eventual plan may have involved Paige switching sides??? But we’ll never know, because there’s only one season and argh.

- speaking of That Reveal: I mean, we all knew Tesler was a bastard, but damn is he a Bastard. For all we know he had his men mess up the med center, too. But this definitely has the feel of something that would have come back to bite him in the ass in a later season with Paige. Like, you wanna talk about trust betrayed?? Killing Paige’s friends for no real reason is not gonna win you points when Paige finds out, ya jerk. Even if you did mentor her. Ugh. Thinking about what could have been makes me sad………

- other interesting details: interesting that Isos are seen as a contaminating force on the Grid!! Like, obviously Clu would make up anything to get rid of them. But still interesting that it’s seen that way. (Also I love this detail bc my fic The Outpost deals with a virus that turns out to be biodigital in nature, so it’s almost like I did it on purpose!!) // also interesting: apparently big enough disruptions to the structure of a place (or a program; see Beck’s arm) can cause it to derezz?? I just like that and I may file it away for future use…….. // also just. Getting this backstory on Paige highlights in a way some of the moral decisions we’ve seen her make, such as with the drill in ep 4. She was a med program; she helped programs get better and heal, and there may be some part of her that does not want to end lives needlessly. And I love that about her. Ugh. She’s hands down the most interesting character in this show and I love her so much!!!

- so yeah!!! Good good episode, would watch again, 10/10 no notes (except these)

[meraki24601]

Mountain Vacation Part 1

CW: Blood, bruises, past whipping, past torture, mentioned nudity (not sexual), implied sexual assault, and restraints. 

This part is mostly discovery and initial response to previous abuse.

A mountaintop hunting trip. Something we’ve been promising each other we’d go on since high school. Now that the last of us have graduated college, it’s finally time. 

Antony, Levi, Alex, the twins Caiden and Aiden, and I spent nearly a year planning out this month-long vacation. Once we get up there, we’ll have three days to back out. Once that week is up, the snow will be too thick, and the path down will be blocked. There are two other cabins relatively close by, but no one will be in them. Hunting for our food, fireplaces in each room for heat, and an excellent generator to power the gaming consoles. We’ll be living the dream.

We planned for everything. Large enough stockpiles of food with extended expiration dates to supplement what we hunt for a month after the pass should be clear. Multiple fully stocked first aid kits with miles of bandages, pain relievers, and even an oxygen tank. An emergency phone to call for help even when our cell phones have no signal. Every potential emergency has been examined and planned for. Really, it’s the only reason Levi’s fiancée and Aiden’s girlfriend let them go.

Even with all the planning and moving the supplies in, it didn’t really set in our minds the trip was actually happening. Not until the first contained avalanche blocked the pass, completely closing us off from all other people. At that point, even a helicopter couldn’t reach us without risking sending a wave of snow and rocks down the mountain and destroying everything in its path. 

The twins went a little feral that first day. Stripping down to their underwear and dancing around the fire we were using to dry the fresher logs we had cut down for extra firewood. Right before sunset, we all set off on the first planned hunting trail and came back with dinner. On the second day, none of us were out of bed before noon. It was the third day when things went horribly wrong. 

I’m in the kitchen peeling a few potatoes to go with whatever Alex and Antony catch on the third trail. Caiden, Aiden, and Levi are all outside messing around when their excited whoops and hollers turn to panicked yelling. Antony bursts into the house, his voice shaking, “Evan. Get the first aid kit. The big one.” He grabs a blanket and runs back out of the house. 

Hesitating for only a moment, I throw the potato I was working on into the sink and follow him, first aid bag in tow. Antony ignores most of the questions the guys and I throw his way as we run through the trees. All he says is, “We found her all alone in the snow.” By the time I can see Alex kneeling in the distance, my chest is heaving from running. 

The next thing I see is snow, stained red.  

The girl’s arms are stretched above her head and tied to a tree with Alex kneeling next to her. As we approach, I can hear him calling to her as he taps her cheek. His other hand is pressed against her throat checking for a pulse. 

“Any luck?” Antony asks kneeling on the girl’s other side. 

“I’ve got a pulse. Her breathing seems steady if shallow, but she won’t respond to me. Minor head injury and definite concussion. It seems like most of the bleeding has stopped, but I won’t be sure until we’ve moved more of this snow.” Alex’s 2 years of med school are definitely coming in handy. Yet, I can still see the fear in his eyes as he looks at each of us in turn. 

“Caiden. Aiden. You two get the snow off her.” I say, throwing the first aid kit on the ground and digging through its contents. “Levi, take Alex’s place and keep an eye on her pulse. We need Alex to be able to look at her other wounds. Antony, take over the bag and help Alex. I’m going to try to cut her arms down.” 

As each man receives his job they immediately begin to work. It doesn’t take long before Caiden and Aiden are spewing curses. “Evan. She’s naked.”

My whole body tenses as the others make noises of anger and disbelief. Whoever had done this had stripped the poor girl down and piled snow on top of her. We could still see the dips in the surrounding snow where they had shoveled it onto her. “Just be as respectful as possible. We need to know if it’s safe to move her.”

“Quickly.” Alex sighs from where he’s examining her leg. “These cuts are bad. They’ll need stitches for sure.”

Levi startles, kicking up some snow. “Guys. She moved. And her pulse is speeding up. I think she’s going to wake up.”

All eyes focus on the injured girl’s face. Her eyelids flutter and her mouth opens in a silent gasp. Trying to be gentle, I reach over and tap her cheek. “That’s it. Wake up for us. You’re safe now. We’re going to get you someplace warm.”

Alex shifts his focus from the girl’s left leg to her right and the girl's eyes fly open. Her mouth opens wide in a silent scream, barely more than a hoarse hiss. Her arms pull against their bindings. She seems to barely be able to pull in enough air to continue her desperate attempt to call for help. 

“Sorry! Her hip is dislocated. We need to fix this before we try to carry her all the way back to the cabin.” Alex’s voice is low. His shoulders are tense and his eyes are serious as he continues his examination. With each scoop of snow removed more injuries are revealed. Bruises and cuts and handprints. Even footprints cover her body. 

The quiet hissing stops as the pain eases up or the girl runs out of air. I turn my gaze back on her face as she searches the area around her, eyes struggling to focus. Setting the knife aside for now, I reach my hand around to support the back of her neck and hopefully make it a little easier for her to breathe. Her position can’t be comfortable, pressed against the rough bark of the tree. 

The girl’s eyes drift over to me, searching. It takes a minute, but when they focus her reaction is immediate.

Part 2

[mollydsails]

October 3 - what a long day! Molly D left Sandy Hook this morning at 6:15. It was just before sunrise and there was enough light to see where we were going.

Dawn breaking at Sandy Hook

The Veranzano Bridge in the distance.

And there’s the sun!

Today was a day filled with ocean swells. The swells were big and they were medium sized and they were smaller sized with a bit of chop thrown in. The swells greeted Molly D on her port side.

Molly D rocked

and she rolled.

The photos were taken by our neighbor, Rick Abdow who was traveling with another neighbor, Craig Fisher, on Craig’s boat.

Craig and Rick in the pilot house of My Girl.

It was a difficult travel day for me but between Pringles and sea sick meds I survived. As we were cruising along we found the AIS (automated information system) contact of Marcia and Dan, friends from Mystic. They were on their 38’ Beneteau, Cutting Class. Marcia and Dan were both teachers; hence the reason behind the name of their boat. Unbeknownst to us, Marcia and Dan were also in Sandy Hook last night. They left way earlier than we did, at 4:45. Molly D is a faster boat so she was able to catch up to and surpass Cutting Class in the early afternoon.

The inlet to Atlantic City is always in motion. Today there were swells breaking on the reef just off the beach to our right. On our left the swells were breaking on the breakwater. The channel was a lumpy mess, but not a deal breaker. We’ve come to expect these conditions.

Atlantic City is NOT a favorite stop, but rather a necessary one. We get a slip at the Farley State Marina. We stay one night unless weather forces us to stay longer. To be honest, I’d rather walk over hot coals with bare feet than to stay any longer than is necessary. Two years ago we were stuck here for 5 days due to weather. We wouldn’t have survived if we didn’t make friends with Ben and Sonia, who were on their way to the Bahamas from Canada. We had the best time with them!

True to form, the marina is short staffed at this time of year. There was one dock hand to check in the half dozen of us that arrived around the same time. David was able to get our slip assignment ahead of time. We entered the left side of the F fairway figuring that slip 38 would be on that side of the dock. We were correct in our assumption. However it was really difficult to find the assigned slip. Not all slips were numbered and those that were numbered were numbered at the dock and not on the pole which to me would be the obvious place. Duh! There was no dock hand available to take Molly D ‘s docking lines. I do have half a brain about many boating “things” so I was able to handle the lines and secure Molly D to the finger pier while David maneuvered her. How my short legs ever got me from the Molly D down to the finger without me falling onto the finger is a mystery. I certainly needed a step stool to get back on her!

Molly D snug in her slip.

Tomorrow will be an easy day. No getting up before dawn. Our trip tomorrow to Cape May is less than 40 miles. We should be in Annapolis on Friday!

[oktorpg]

In Orbit – Solo by John Murphy

〖 𝕀𝕟 𝕆𝕣𝕓𝕚𝕥 〗

☌ #The100 #The100RP #AU

☍ An @OsoKikThruOgeda  Story

☌ #JasperJordan POV

It was two days. Two days in space, kept in bed constantly feeling like I was about to throw up. But whatever meds the Doc was giving me seemed to be working;  because no matter how nauseous I got… nothing else came up. But #Abbie finally told me I could leave. The pretty nurse called #Lizze showed me where Harper and Monty were staying, saying they’d asked for a room big enough for the three of us. She told me that almost everyone else had chosen to take a room for themselves, other than #Luna, John and #Emori. The only thing that shocked me about that was; she never mentioned Raven staying with them. I didn’t think anyone could break up that foursome.

#Harper and #Monty weren’t in our room… they were working on setting up the algae farm… there were too many people on this ship and the supplies on board weren’t going to last. The pressure was on my boy to provide. But in the meantime, I was off to get my protein ration for the day, when I walked into the mess hall I saw #Emori slumped over a table with a silver packet clutched in her good hand… licked clean. The rest of the place was empty.

I set my hand gently on her shoulder. “Hey… Emori.” I said quietly. “Are you okay?” She bolted upright like I had just slapped her. I pulled back and held my hands up showing her it was just me and I wasn’t going to hurt her.

“It’s just me… Are you okay?” I asked, taking the seat next to her. “Why are you sleeping here?”

‘I’m okay… I’m just tired… Sleeping has been… difficult.’ She ran her hand over her face. ‘But look at you!’ She forced a smile. ‘Finally, a free man.’

I didn’t let her change the subject though. “We’ve had two nights with real beds and nothing trying to kill us Emori… Why aren’t you sleeping?”

She shook her head and stood up… ‘Come on… I’ll show you where to get your grub before this place really wakes up.’ She said, crossing the room to the table where the rations were laid out. At the end of that table, John was there laying things out and then tapping something into a tablet in front of him. It was seeing him that made it dawn on me. He looked awful… he was clean… he wore the same guard uniform jumpsuit that I did. He was freshly shaved… his hair was still a little wet so he’d showered. He was doing a really good job at playing it like everything was fine. But he was pale, his eyes were dull and even a little bloodshot, not to mention ringed with dark shadows.

“It’s his nightmares isn’t it?” I  asked her, keeping my voice low. The look she gave was all I needed. “I know... The mansion was big but not that big.”

‘It's not his fault.’ She said defensively. It had been hard to work them both out, but on the island, it became clear that they had become family after whatever happened in the desert. I had briefly wondered if John Fucking Murphy was in love… but this was something else. I mean I was fairly sure he had; but not with Emori… The only problem with John was figuring out if it was love, obsession or a survival tactic. I had ruled out the last one when we stayed at the mansion and waited for Raven to come back.

“I know… that’s not what I meant. But… why don’t you stay in our room for one night? I can’t see your roommates minding. You need a night of sleep…” She looked at me like she  was thinking about it and then… guilt flooded her expression. “Think about it.” Then I gave up on keeping my voice down. “So… how come John got this gig?” I pointed. Clearly, he was given the job of managing the rations.

‘I was unceremoniously volunteered once most people  had their burns and sickness treated and my use in med bay ran out.’ John stared at #Emori.

‘What!?’ She laughed. ‘You were the one feeding everyone on the island. It made sense.’ She shrugged and John slid me a package and tapped what I assumed was my name into his  tablet.

‘Except on the island, there was such a big stash that I didn’t need to tell people that they couldn’t have any more.’ John shook his head. ‘Handing out packets isn’t exactly cooking.’

I noticed a few people behind him moving boxes and counting. I didn’t recognize  them. ‘Grounders.’ John explained. ‘A lot of them don’t speak English so anyone that speaks Trig is being grouped with them.’

“Are you okay with that?” I asked, he didn’t have the best history with grounder… I mean, none of us did really.

‘They are Shallow Valley and  Rockline… I never had any problems with them.’ he added. His tablet beeped and he looked at his friend. ‘Wake up call.’ He told her. Emori looked at me and asked if I wanted to take my breakfast to go and she’d give me a tour.

As she showed me around, she explained to me that she had been helping John, but people… especially Sangedakru (Her people) refused to take their rations from a Freikdreina. I wanted to say that those people should have been let go hungry, but I had a feeling that wouldn’t exactly be helpful.

So, John had given her a  heads up so she could get out of there before people began arriving. She took me to where Monty had started his algae farm, but he wasn’t there. Only #Harper was.

‘#Kane and #DrGriffin are having a meeting with the Grounder leaders to make a survival plan…’ Harper said, uncertainty in her voice. ‘#Bellamy and #Clarke were invited… #Octavia too… and #Monty… since he’s probably the best choice for the Algae farm. All the Farmers were in the bunker with #Jaha. I think Raven was invited too…’

‘Clarke is making decisions again?’ My  brows pinched and my stomach started to churn.

This was going to end badly.