#any anyway. until next time. which should be the start of the gate event

[theunconcernedembalmer]

so. leans on the counter. gate huh. slips off the counter and falls flat on my fa

#identity v #aesop carl #identity v embalmer #identity v the embalmer #unconcerned art #i will!!!! make the starting post for chemistsop. or i guess hes called gate now #cos i somehow seriously hit 800. i legitimately thought i will never have another event again cos i wouldnt hit this number #ive actually hit it a while ago but i wanted to sit on it for a while longer so that i have enough information on the guy #not that i know much more. i missed the belostain event n idk why luca is there #but its something #anyway have this doodle while i figure out how im goingbto do this. dont expect colours. im thinking of a style similar to this #but i might bring back the og colours n basic shades although idk how well that will work out #any anyway. until next time. which should be the start of the gate event

[lady-bess]

Just A Date - Joel Miller (Post-Outbreak)

Part of the LadyBess Valentine's special! 8 Characters; 8 Dates 💜

Joel Miller x GN!Reader Mature/18+ (Minors DNI Please✨) WC: 2.6k Notable Tags: Post-Outbreak Joel, Life in Jackson, First Dates, First Kiss, First Date Nerves, Joel being a bit of a wreck, Cinema Date, References to Death, References to Tess, References to Sarah, References to Ellie, Slight Age Gap (Joel late 50s, reader mid 40s), Fluff in the snow (you'll see what I mean).

I ran a poll on my Twitter (@/this15theway) to decide which version of Joel I should write for, and post-outbreak Joel won! It was very close to being a 50/50 split though, so perhaps that tells me y’all also wouldn’t mind more pre-outbreak Joel. Watch this space…

Next up, Joel! Now, like Jack, I feel we need a bit of clarification here. Joel goes through some shit in his life, which undoubtably would change how he’d view valentine’s day. The man who lived before the outbreak is a far cry from who we see in the events of TLOU, twenty years after the world ended. As such, any traditions he used to have before the outbreak would likely be vastly different to life after.

So, how does Valentine's day look like for Mr. Miller in Jackson? Let's see, shall we?

Joel had never imagined he’d celebrate another valentines again. When the world ended, and Sarah died with it, for so long there wasn’t a single bright day in his life. The first five years of the outbreak went by in a bit of a blur, the rage and anger towards the world taking over and clouding his vision.

When the smoke eventually started to clear, dating was still not something Joel had thought about. He’d had the occasional hook-up here and there within the QZ, but nothing substantial. Not until Tess, anyway.

But with Tess dead, left behind as a sacrifice to get Joel on the road with Ellie, that loneliness had seeped back in. Travelling cross-country with a girl you consider your own kin, fighting off raiders and infected, hardly gave him much time to dwell on this state of being, though. It wasn’t until the two of them found safety in Jackson that Joel relaxed enough to think about it.

A year after settling into town, he met you. Jackson grew with each passing month, and slowly but surely the town was becoming the size of a small city. The commune still worked well though, but the expanse did make it so that it was no longer a small community where everyone knew everybody.

You’d arrived with a small group a couple of months ago, and had quickly settled in across town from Joel. Maria and Tommy had put you in charge of working in the stables, your experience with animals coming in handy in an area that relied so heavily on going out hunting on horseback and handling livestock. It was one afternoon where Joel was to accompany Tommy on patrol outside the gate, and in need of a horse, that he met you.

He’d been enamoured with you immediately, and almost to the point where it surprised him just how quickly you had seeped into his mind. The way you smiled, your laugh, and how gentle your demeanour was. Joel had plenty of experience with horses by now, having used one to travel most the way to Jackson from Boston, so he knew the kind of approach one had to have with animals. The fact it came naturally to you set off butterflies in his stomach for the first time in years.

Tommy had, of course, teased his older brother about this crush relentlessly. But deep down, he was happy to see Joel starting to open up. His brother had never been one to be overly emotional, but since the two of them reunited last year, he could tell there had been a huge shift in Joel. No longer did he show much emotion, preferring to just remain a hard outer shell that nobody seemed to be able to penetrate. Nobody except you, that was.

“Why not ask them out?” Tommy asked, “They’re single!”.

“Oh, and do what? It’s the end of the world, Tommy. People don’t…date. Do they?” he’d asked, drawing laughter from his younger brother.

“Joel, how the hell do you think Maria and I got it on?” he said, laughing to himself as the two brothers rode around the perimeter of Jackson. “You gotta drop this whole ‘end of the world’ narrative, Joel. Sure, life ain’t what it was, but you’ve been here a year now. Surely you can see that there can be some kind of normality?”.

He had a point. Jackson had established schools, libraries, shops, and salons, as well as the more “practical” industries like farming and rearing livestock. The town had set itself apart from most post-outbreak settlements in that it did actually function like a proper city. Communism or not, it certainly worked well.

“Alright, you might have a point,” Joel admitted.

“I know I do, brother. Come on, just ask them! I’m fairly sure they’re as smitten with you as you are with them,” Tommy teased, and Joel’s face lit up.

“Really?” he asked, and Tommy nodded.

“So the word on the street says. ‘The word’ being that of Maria, so I’d say that’s pretty trustworthy,” he chuckled. “Promise you’ll ask them when we get back?”.

Joel sighed, but the more he thought about it the giddier he got. It was a feeling he was most unfamiliar with, but the fact he did feel it again was surely something he could take as being a promising sign. He always looked forward to your conversations, and each time he went he yearned for a reason to make them last longer.

“Alright, I promise,” he said. “But you gotta help me out. I haven’t dated in…fuck,” he laughed, “Twenty-five years!”.

The two brothers laughed with one another as they completed the last of their patrol, still chuckling as the gates opened for them both on their return.

“Brother, I think you need all the help you can get then! I tell you what, suggest this. The 14th is in two days – there were plans to show a film in the town hall that evening. Nothing too out there, and keeping it family friendly, but it would be a good ice breaker date?” he suggested.

Joel nodded as the two men headed towards the stables, trying his best to ignore the thudding feeling in his chest where his heart was almost trying to escape from nervousness. Any kind of date felt like a terrifying concept at the moment, but Tommy was right. It would be perfect.

“Alright, you got a deal,” he’d said, and the two of them dismounted the horses as they headed to the stables. Sucking in some air, Joel had prepared exactly what to say to you. Now he just had to do it…

Much to his surprise (and delight), you’d agreed to the date. But really, how could you have said no? You’d been carrying round your crush on the older of the Miller brother’s for a few weeks, but never had the chance to actually speak with him enough to broach the idea of a date. The day Tommy brought him over to the stable felt like all your Christmas’ came at once, and Joel was everything you hoped he would be. Quiet, and definitely reserved; but it was clear that under the hardened shell he built around himself was a kind, sweet man. You just hoped you’d see more of him.

Saying yes to this date was the easiest decision in the world. Now, on the night in question, you’d patiently waited outside the town hall for Joel to arrive. He’d been a little late, but with only so many films to continually have on show here in Jackson, it’s not like you were missing much.

You smiled wide as Joel headed over towards you, a slight skip in his step. He was bundled up in his signature thick brown jacket, the fastenings pulled across his broad chest to fight off the cold snap that had descended around Jackson lately. Snow lay on the ground, littering the streets and coating the tops of houses, and if you had to guess by the appearance of the clouds above there would surely be another downpour of it tonight.

“Hey,” Joel said, greeting you with a smile on his face and a twinkle in his eye that mirrored your own. It warmed you deep inside to see a man usually so stoic and closed off actually appear happy – and it was made even more sweet by the fact that it was because of you he felt such a way.

“Hi,” you said, “You made it!”.

Joel chuckled, shaking his head slightly.

“Yeah, I’m sorry about bein’ a little late. Ellie needed my help with something before I headed out, and, well- I just can’t say no to that kid,” Joel said.

You chuckled, instinctively moving a little closer to Joel to link your arm around his. You’d seen how he was with Ellie, and had heard the stories of Joel with Sarah before the outbreak. Even though you never knew Sarah, and only really observed him acting parental towards Ellie from afar, it made you happy to see Joel settle into that role of being a parent again. The end of the world had taken so much from so many people – you found you didn’t have to know people intimately to still find comfort in others having some sense of normalcy back. You wished everyone had that chance.

“It’s alright, the film has only just started. Shall we?” you said, and Joel nodded. He reached over and covered your hand that sat on his arm with his, his woollen glove warming your bare fingers. Smiling back, you turned towards the door to the town hall and wandered inside.

The film was only about ten minutes in by the time you entered and sat down. The hall had filled up nicely for the evening, as it usually did on film nights. All the children who lived in Jackson sat up front, intently glued to the screen, and you chuckled to yourself as you remember being exactly the same way back when as a kid. Your parents always fussed about you getting ‘square eyes’ on account of sitting too close to the VCR TV in the lounge, which was always a strange concept to explain to the kids of Jackson. You often wondered what your parents would be most worried about in this modern world now. Often you were glad they didn’t live long enough to even experience the outbreak.

You and Joel snuck in towards the back where there were a few free seats. It was still a little chilly in the hall, in spite of how many people were present, so you opted to keep your coats on for the time being. You’d released your hold on Joel’s arm once you sat down, but the two of you kept your distance close to one another. The little taps of his knee against yours sent little butterflies through you and suddenly you felt like a teenager all over again, sneaking out at night to go watch a film with a guy your mother definitely didn’t approve of.

Throughout the whole time the two of you sat with one another you couldn’t fight the giddiness that surged through you – for so long you’d been alone, just as Joel had. Sure, you’d been surrounded by folk for years; there was always safety in numbers. But having someone to call your own, your partner, your lover…that was still an alien concept. Even if tonight came to nothing, it was nice that you’d taken a step towards living again.

About half an hour through, Joel began to get restless. He was enjoying himself, yes, but he had a newfound urge to sit and get to know you. Not something which could be so easily done during a film, where silence was required. It was a desire he hadn’t had with anyone for so long that he didn’t want to risk chickening out of this, so he opted to take advantage of this.

“Do you wanna go for a walk?” he asked lowly, whispering into your ear. You smiled up at him, nodding. You felt a warmth in the palm of your hand as Joel’s fingers softly interlocked with yours, tightening their grip slightly, and then leading you out the door of the hall.

Once outside, you felt a wave of relief wash over you. As much as you loved the film nights put on in the hall, a huge part of you wanted nothing more than to spend time with just Joel, and to get to know him. As you walked away from the hall, and the first few flakes of snow began to fall across the town, the two of you did just that.

He didn’t think he’d ever asked, or been asked, so many questions in his entire life. But he wasn’t complaining for a second – he hung on every word you said, learning everything there was to about you and your life; where you were born, what you did before the outbreak, and how you came to be here. He found he was also just as receptive to telling you anything you wanted to know, and was spilling his guts about everything as the two of you walked round the town, still hand in hand.

“I was really nervous about asking you out, you know,” Joel eventually admitted. “But you’ve been an absolute treat tonight, darlin’.”

“Nervous? How come?” you asked.

“Well, truth be told, my last proper date was several years before the outbreak began,” he chuckled, “So I’m a bit rusty now, more than two decades later,” he said. You shrugged.

“You don’t seem it, if that’s any consolation. Must just ooze charm naturally,” you teased, squeezing his hand softly. Joel chuckled at your joke, smiling wide.

“Yeah, I ain’t sure about that at all,” he said.

“Well, how about we test it?” you asked, boldly.

“Test it? How?” he said, his brow furrowed.

“Kiss me, Joel,” you said, stopping in your tracks. Joel’s eyes widened, but quickly he softened his expression and smiled at you. Turning to face you, he slipped his other hand to settle on your waist, and kept you close to him.

“Sure?” he asked. You nodded in response, wetting your lips slightly with your tongue as you waited for him to make a move. “Alright,” he drawled, chuckling under his breath, as he leant down.

His lips caught yours and he planted the softest kiss on them you’d ever experienced – not in a way that you didn’t know it was even happening, but rather it was so tender that you could be mistaken for thinking the two of you had already been lovers in a past life. It was like he already knew exactly how to kiss you, his lip gently sucking yours just before he parted from you, your heads still resting together.

“See? Not rusty at all,” you chuckled, a blush spread out on your cheeks, a warmth rushing through you.

“Hey, I never said my kissing was rusty, just my ability to go on a proper date with someone I like,” he said, blushing slightly with you, brushing his nose against yours.

“So you like me then?” you teased.

“Yeah, I do. And I know I ain’t all that much, darlin’. This evening hasn’t been much and, Hell, I’m nearing sixty,” he laughed, “But I really do like you. Been a long time since I felt this way about anyone, too. I’m really hoping we could…we could date,” he said. You nodded, smiling wide up at him.

“I’d like that, Joel. And your age doesn’t bother me, by the way. I’m hardly a spring chicken either,” you chuckled. “My spine enjoys reminding me that I’m in my mid-forties!”.

“Let’s fall apart together, then, at the end of the world,” Joel joked, smiling so wide his eyes creased when he laughed. You smiled at him, joining in with a giggle.

“That sounds like a plan to me”.

For more from this series, check out the Just A Date Masterlist! For more works from me, here's my main Masterlist! ❤

LadyBess xox

#pedro pascal #fanfiction #joel miller #fanfic #tlou #tlou2 #life in jackson #jackson #post outbreak joel #valentines day #valentines fic #fluff #sfw #reader insert #gender neutral reader #jackson tlou

[plenary-indulgence]

#FFXIVWrite2022 Day 1: Cross

Sanson is having a bad day.

The whole morning had been heavily overcast, but the local skywatcher promises Sanson they aren’t due for actual rain today. He double checks - asks her if she’s quite positive about that and she replies: “certainly, definitely and for sure.” Which is good enough; if a strange way of phrasing it. He’s finally finished preparing his report on the Song of Oblivion and needs to make the delivery personally and would need to make the long trek across Gridania on foot. He’d already given his verbal account of his recent excursion to Coerthas upon their return but the request had been made of him for formal documentation; sparing no detail and elaborating on the condensed version he’d done in person.

That had been five days ago - they’d asked for it in three and it’s long overdue now; which is unlike him. And it’s not up to his usual exacting standards either which is even more unlike him. Sanson prides himself on his meticulous attention to detail, his ability to prioritize and his time management skills. All of that went out the window on this one. And for the first time he can remember in his career, he’d struggled to complete his paperwork. But at least it’s done now - and even if it’s “not perfect” by Sanson’s expectations it’s still “much better than average” by anyone else’s. That fact, and his existing pristine track record will hopefully spare him the dressing down he deserves but he knows he’ll have to do all the better next time to make up for it anyway.

Normally, he functions well under pressure but this assignment had been so much bigger than anything he’s accomplished before. His superiors made it very clear that they doubted the value of his proposed bard unit from the beginning and that it was entirely on him to demonstrate that the idea had any merit at all. In hindsight it occurs to him that he should have perhaps started smaller and more sensibly. Surely there’s something to be said for further observation of Jehantel’s methods or even the stories of the Twelveswood moogles.

But no; he just had to go chasing his “Song of Oblivion” straight out of the gate. And the journey had been anything but small and sensible. It paid off in the end - but he’s smart enough to realize they got very, very lucky and things could have gone much, much worse. And after everything they’d done and seen; finally putting quill to parchment in any meaningful way had seemed impossible. Sanson is not a bard; despite his fascination with them, and the words to describe the astonishing events they had witnessed do not come to him as easily as they might to someone more gifted in verse. And even past simply finding the right words he had struggled to recount the details of their adventure accurately without also revealing the things that would paint the unit in a less than commendable light.

The time wasted. The petty squabbling.

Accidentally unleashing a malevolent siren in his desperation to be right.

And not least of all his fundamental inability to function as a captain when it was asked of him.

To say nothing of Guydelot; of whose faults were so numerous that even if Sanson had an entire lifetime to write them all down he’s not sure he could get through the list.

Stubborn, insubordinate, lazy, prone to distraction, absurdly tall, rude -

Well, that’s not entirely fair. Despite all of that he also happens to be brave, insightful and as skilled with the bow as he was with his music.

It bothers Sanson that while he hadn’t really been totally wrong in his initial judgment of his charge he also hadn’t been wholly right either. A good captain should be able to see the strengths of his men as easily as he sees their weaknesses but Sanson hadn’t been able to get past his ugly first impression until it was too late. That, more than anything else, is what he finds himself dwelling on as of late. It’s all a jumble in his mind and certainly more than needed to be said in his write-up; so he chose to be charitable and to paint an image of Guydelot as favorably as he could manage. Even if it’s not being entirely truthful he thinks, at least, it will save face for the both of them and not give the God’s Quiver any further reason to oppose the whole endeavor.

So he ends up leaving quite a bit out. Quite a bit that he should have probably been more transparent about; as well as things that he wishes he could not only leave out of his documentation but also out of his own mind. Like how easily the other man is able to rile him up - it’s seems to be a game to him - and how he’s is unable to turn the other cheek and plays directly into it every single time.

And how even when Guydelot isn’t actually present Sanson still sometimes finds himself unable to stop thinking about him - to the point of distraction - and not just about their working relationship and all of Guydelot’s numerous personal failings but also little, perplexing notions such as the memory of his long, graceful fingers plucking away at the strings of his harp or the careful way he minds his slender, pointed ears when he reaches up and behind to grab an arrow from the quiver at his back. And how those thoughts are usually accompanied by an unnerving warmth in his chest and a blush that slowly creeps up the back of his neck.

Of course he’s not stupid - or particularly naive either. He knows what that feeling is. He just doesn’t know why it is. It’s completely inappropriate but even worse than that; it’s unprofessional. It’s baffling, it’s frustrating and it’s mortifying.

And hopefully, it’s also temporary. He thinks that if he can just ignore it long enough it will pass on it’s own. A good start will be turning this report in; and then he can unburden himself from his troublesome; circling doubts to close the book on this chapter of his life and look forward to what comes next. Of course there’s no doubt he’ll be forced to contend with Guydelot again eventually; given the ongoing nature of his work but that’s for future Sanson to reckon with and with any luck some time and distance from the object of his consternation will serve to unburden him. His fortune is certain to change for the better, now. Or as the skywatcher had said - “certainly, definitely and for sure.”

Naturally, the downpour starts quite suddenly the moment Sanson is equally distant from his apartment and the Adder’s Nest. Not for the first time he finds himself grateful for his standard issue Adder’s uniform - while not completely waterproof, it’s heavy enough to offer a reasonable degree of protection. Unfortunately, that protection does not extend to his long suffered over report which is now little more than a sodden mess of smudged ink and wasted time. Cursing under his breath, he ducks under the awning near the entrance to the lancer’s guild as quickly as he can manage and does his best to wring the water from his coat.

He’d started the day in a hopeful mood; but he’s definitely quite cross now. Cross at the rain; cross at himself. Cross at Guydelot because even if he’s not actually present; most of this is somehow his fault anyway.

And then, to make matters worse as though he’d been summoned by Sanson’s glowering; the man somehow-at-fault himself appears out of the gloom - because of course he does. Guydelot sidles up gracefully under the awning next to him and shakes not unlike a dog - soaked to the bone but smirking like he thinks it’s funny when Sanson recoils away from the spray of water.

“Alright there, chief?”

“Guydelot.” He nods politely. Guydelot, as usual, is somewhat less professional and steps immediately an ilm too far into Sanson’s personal space to be heard better over the rain when he speaks.

“Out for a stroll in this weather? I suppose I always thought of you as more fussy than that.”

He bristles but manages not to rise to take the bait; not willing to let the bard worsen his mood and instead settles for taking half a step back and clearing his throat pointedly. “Not intentionally.”

Guydelot either doesn’t get the point he’s attempting to make or chooses to ignore it - both equally likely - and takes half a step forward; closer, “Ah, as I thought then. You are that fussy.”

“If by ‘fussy’ you mean sane, then so be it. What about you?” Sanson can feel a tension headache blossoming in his temples; no doubt from a combination of the humidity, work-stress and current company.

“Oh, I’m out here very much intentionally - I love the rain,” He looks out and up at the sky serenely, “Nature’s own perfect percussion. Helps me think.”

He wants to make a snide comment about how when it comes to thinking, Guydelot probably needs all the help he can get but he bites his tongue and instead follows his companion’s gaze out to try to see things as he apparently does. From their vantage point, the flower lined path winds down to the westshore pier and further in the distance the Lavender Beds loom out of the mist rising off of the lake. Admittedly, it does seem like the sort of thing an artist would try to capture in a painting - or a bard in song. Every color seems somehow deeper and brighter than usual. The sound of raindrops against the roof of the awning is steady and solid. The scent of greenery and loam sits heavy in his nose. It’s all actually quite soothing, now that he takes the time to pay attention and despite himself Sanson feels his earlier irritation start to fade.

After a long beat of silence, Guydelot leans back against the railing languidly and nods down at the sheaf of sodden papers Sanson still has clutched in his hand, “What’s all that?”

And just like that, the moment passes and he sours again, “It was my final report on the song of oblivion I was delivering to the Adder’s Nest.”

“Hmm…looks a bit sloppier than your usual work. Are you losing your touch?”  

Guydelot has no way of knowing he’s touched a nerve, but Sanson protests anyway, “I can assure you that I’m not and my work was just as exemplary as ever. Regrettably, it seems that the weather did not agree.”

“Terribly sorry to hear that,” Guydelot quips; not sounding terribly sorry at all, “I guess you’ll just have to redo it. And I know how much you loathe doing paperwork - you must be devastated.”

“That’s very funny.”

“It’s really quite tragic - just the sort of thing an enterprising, handsome and talented young bard might be inspired to write a song about; were he so inclined…”

“Mm,” Sanson muses flatly, “What a shame that I don’t know any enterprising, handsome or talented young bards then. My misfortune will just have to remain a song unsung.”

Guydelot frowns but his eyes are light. He feigns distress; clutching his hand to his chest melodramatically, “Ouch, Sanson.”

Sanson keeps his tone even and expression neutral, “Although, if you happen to know anyone fitting that description please do send them my way.”

“There’s that sense of humor I just knew you had to have in there somewhere.”

“I’m being completely serious; you see I’m putting together a bard unit for the Twin Adders - bit of an experiment, actually - and I think we could really benefit from having someone like that on our roster.”

“Ohh, they did warn me you were a bit of a scold - ”

“Oh, please.”

“ - and of your bizarre devotion to authority - “

“That just seems unfair.”

“ - your unflagging dedication to following the most nonsensical of rules to the letter even at your own peril - “

“Are you quite done?”

“Not just yet - ahem - your inability to stop being overly serious about absolutely everything for even a moment - “

“Alright.”

“- but Sanson the Stiff; what they did not warn me about was just how needlessly cruel you can be!”

“Come off it; you know how much I hate that nickname.”

“I do,” his playful smile blooms into a grin, “I wouldn’t use it so much if I didn’t.”

“Honestly?”

“Honestly,” he mimics, and then, almost affectionately: “Oh, don’t be cross. You know I just like getting you all worked up - so little effort on my part for so much reward.”

He glares up at Guydelot from under the brim of his hat and hopes he comes across as more intimidating than he feels he looks. It’s always difficult to be authoritative when you’re always looking up and always being looked down on it turn. Sodding elezen. And there’s that strange sensation again; rising up under his breastbone like a fluttering butterfly to send away all of his orderly, rational thoughts.

Then, almost as though he knows what Sanson is doing his very best not to think about, Guydelot smiles again; fondly this time -  and reaches towards him. For one heart-stopping moment Sanson has the completely irrational notion that he’s going to brush the wet strands of his bangs away from his face; but instead Guydelot just tugs his hat down a little more snugly, pats him on the head like a child and takes his leave with a wink back into the downpour just as suddenly as he’d emerged.

The storm doesn’t last for long after he departs, but it takes longer still before Sanson can fully settle his inexplicably pounding pulse and compose himself to make the return walk home to start everything over again.

#ffxiv #ffxivwrite2022 #sanson smyth #guydelot thildonnet #someone please put sanson's hair in pigtails so guydelot can tug on them

[neocrush]

— the girl groups enhypen’s gfs are in !

genre: fluff (angst on jungwon’s part) + established relationship (eventually lol)

pairings: idol!enhypen x fem!idol!reader

note: idk how to title this pls i thought of it while showering

tagging: @jeminiepabo @strwberrydinosaur

you just finished performing and your members were in need of water bottles

you just finished performing and your members were in need of water bottles

you just finished performing and your members were in need of water bottles

but fucking mnet didn’t provide any inside of your dressing room??

but fucking mnet didn’t provide any inside of your dressing room??

but fucking mnet didn’t provide any inside of your dressing room??

so yves told you to ask for some from the artist in the dressing room next to yours

you knocked on the door without looking at the sign that showed who was in there

you asked for some water bottles and heeseung went “i’ll go get it!” and ran off to go get get them

jungwon just chuckled and went “hyung’s a really huge fan of your group, he kept on singing star on the way here”

you nodded at the younger one, impressed at the fact that you were popular among idols

the tall boy came back with a whole box full of water bottles

“there’s 12 of you here right now so i figured why not get a whole box” he chuckled nervously

you giggled and smiled at the nervous boy

“thank you heeseung-ssi, i’ll take this to my members” you took the box in your hands but was taken aback on how heavy it was

“don’t worry i’ll carry it for you”

long after that you started hanging out and boom you became his gf

you couldn’t resist the charms of lee heeseung

once it was revealed that you were a couple, orbits and engenes went INSANE (in a good way ofc)

“wait so y/n DOESNT hate men????”

★ jay - aespa

OMG OMG LEMME TELL YOU ABOUT THIS BBY

you both met at school after you both debuted

everyone was gossiping around about how you were in the same class with the enhas

so like... monster rookies class

usually idols aren’t seated together but the teacher seated you and jay next to each other

causing a bunch of “oooohhhs” from your classmates

there were times were you and the enhas would leave school early due to practice or schedules

and on the way to the school gate, jay would always spark up a conversation with you

you assumed he was just very friendly

long story short he had a massive crush on you

so a few months into your friendship (which the both of you were very open about with your fans), he confesses

you were like “WAIT SO IT WASNT ONE SIDED THE WHOLE TIME”

y’all were just really blind lol pls read between the lines

anyways on to ur lovely bf !!

he’s so bold and brave around you but so shy around your members and seniors

we all know how he really respects nct (along with other sm artists) bc he covered the 7th sense with sunghoon on iland

so one day you were like “oh btw i showed taeyong sunbae you and hoon’s t7s cover”

he was like 😟 to 😧 to 😯

got all shy and was like “oh what did he say..”

you don’t know why he was acting as if he didn’t body that whole performance ????

anyway you told him that taeyong said that he and hoon did really well and that he liked how jay did his part

hid his face on the crook of your neck

“baby we should come say hi to them next time you go to sm”

“NO i will make a fool out of myself”

speaks english and japanese with giselle a lot when he isn’t occupied with you

sometimes you’d even have to ask nct’s shotaro to translate

your seniors (especially exo’s kai) adore him so so much pls protect the boy at all costs

★ jake - everglow

he was an active viewer of produce 48 and (like me) was really attached to the yuehua trainees

especially you

so when you got eliminated just before the last episode, he was devastated to say the least

he awaited your debut and when the time came he supported everglow !!!!

LOVED BON BON CHOCOLAT SO MUCH

does the killing part choreo in his room when no one’s watching lol

dies everytime you do the little “everglow” in songs

right so when he debuted in enha, he looked forward to meeting you as an idol and not a fan

when you shared a dressing room at kcontact, he couldn’t help but introduce himself to you

he mentioned he was a big fan and your heart warmed

cute boy is a fan of you? omg heart go brr brr

your members tease you and you just shake it off

that day when you got back to the dorms, you watched a bunch of enhypen videos bc you were interested in jake

you weren’t aware of how popular you were among people - let alone idols so you were surprised

you fell in love with his personality and started saying hi to him whenever you meet backstage at music shows

not long after, you develop feelings for him

you thought it was just a puppy crush but as you saw him even more, it got serious

you never actually confessed but aisha accidentally spilled the beans when he was passing by

“cmon y/n just tell him you like him because he clearly feels the same !!”

“you like me?”

“AISHA”

“that’s my queue to leave”

so she leaves you two to pour your hearts out to each other

you two become a couple and forevergenes (such a cute name omg) LOVE you two

you’re both the puppies of your group so that makes your relationship 103892x cuter

you met his parents and they adore you and even asked for your autograph

“jake used to talk about how great you are after every produce 48 episode”

“okayyyy i think that’s enough embarassing me mom”

his parents love you like their own daughter but does layla love you?

you were so nervous to meet her and was actually scared she might not like you - knowing how important layla is to jake

at first layla ignored you and jake was like “she’ll come around”

you were convinced she just doesn’t like you, until this one time you were cuddling with jake on the couch and layla comes in

you expected her to snuggle up with jake but she came to you :D

now layla is super fond of you and mrs sim would even send you pictures and videos of layla getting excited whenever you were on tv 🥺

★ sunghoon - itzy

you and the girls were at isac

the six of you were just waving at your fans and making heart signs with your hearts

on your left you saw yeji making hearts with ryujin so you wanted to do that with another member too

you felt a presence next to you and assumed it was someone from your group

spoiler alert: it wasn’t

sunghoon and sunoo were waving at engenes who just happened to be seated next to midzys

so you turned to who you thought was an itzy member, making half a heart with your hand

until you realized it wasn’t 💀

you bowed and apologized when you both looked at each other, you were scared you crossed a boundary

you bowed and apologized to the engenes who were there too

sunghoon and sunoo reassured you it was all good

after that, sunghoon couldn’t help but keep his eyes on you the entire event

when the day was coming to an end, he pulled some strings and ended up having some alone time with you ...in stray kids’ dressing room

don’t ask

ofc skz already left so it was just you two there

fast forward, you both hit it off and he became your bf <3

midzys and engenes love you both sm and love bragging about you two to other fandoms

you two were even named the king and queen of 4th gen kpop

oh also

you already know where this is going

“SUNGHOON HOW COULD YOU NOT KNOW NOT SHY’S PROPER TITLE IT’S YOUR GIRLFRIEND’S SONG” - jay

brags about how he can do the shoulder dance in wannabe

ofc it’s bc you personally taught him

sends you pics of jyp as reaction pics

so you send pics of bang pdnim to him

every once in a while he reminds you of that video of jay why pee trying to hit a high note

“lmao that’s your boss”

PLS you always get super embarrassed so ofc you bring up that vid of hitman bang

“rAp dAncE-“

★ sunoo - stayc

you were his seatmate at school predebut

you came from the same town, same school, same neighborhood, etc

the two of you were extremely close and both shared the same dream

when highup entertainment accepted you, the both of you were over the moon

he was so happy for you

but sad too bc that meant you had to move to seoul :(

you promised him to do your best and that you hoped to see him again but as an idol

and hopefully when he’s an idol too

well what you hoped for came true !!

although you couldn’t see him much as a trainee - which made you quite sad - you got to follow his journey on i-land

you even asked your fellow trainees to vote for him

anyways now that you both debuted, you became close again and became really open with your fans on how close you were

you recommended his songs to swiths and he did the same to engenes

he even memorized the choreo to so bad and asap and lemme tell you this

he BEGGED you to teach him those choreos

“sunoo you can watch the practice on youtube”

“but i want to learn it from you”

he never really realized his feelings until he saw you getting shipped with his other members

you were both on weekly idol and the hosts really seemed to like how you and jake looked next to each other and they just teased you both the whole episode

that made sunoo feel uneasy and he thought it was only bc he was an overprotective best friend

turns out he had feelings for you (wow shocker)

so one day he asks you to come to hybe

after slightly getting lost, you meet up with him in a practice room

he confesses bc he felt like not telling you about his feelings would put a wall between you two

you appreciate his honesty and tell him you’ve felt the same way every since you were classmates

he scolds himself for not seeing it all those years but you just laugh it off bc you were pretty good at hiding your crush

you both agree to secretly date, until you both announce it on your five month anniversary

fans were really shocked at first... but they support you !!!!

engenes will not hesitate to come at anyone who talks bad about you and swiths feels the same way about jungwon

he gushes about you every single time you’re brought up

and you can’t help but love your adorable boyfriend

★ jungwon - iz*one

okay so

he was just an average high schooler when you were introduced on produce 48

his deskmate was watching your audition video and it was the part where you were doing this freestyle

he was SO amazed and he secretly followed your journey on produce 48

always made sure to vote on time and watch the episodes live

once the debut evaluation came around, he asked everyone he knew to vote for you and even bought tickets to see the show live

almost cried when he saw that you were center

ACTUALLY CRIED when you got into the top 13 😭

fast forward to him debuting in enha

he wasn’t able to catch up on you since he was busy with trainee life, then i-land, then debut preparations

but somehow in the middle of promotions he ran into you and BOOM love at first sight

fast forward to you finally dating, he couldn’t believe he was dating the y/n of iz*one

wizones make those “ladies and gentlemen, y/n’s man” edits and engenes make those “ladies and gentlemen, jungwon’s woman” edits

both fandoms love you two so dearly that the only hate you two got were from the delusional ones (who clearly aren’t actual fans)

when your last concert came around, he couldn’t bare seeing you cry when you said “this has been iz*one’s y/n, thank you everyone!”

he got flashbacks from when you cried during the final episode of produce 48 and he’s just.. sobbing bc he couldn’t be there to hold you

so the next day he rushed to your dorms with snacks and emotional support bc you were emotionally exhausted from accepting the fact that your journey with iz*one is finally ending

you felt extremely lucky to be in his arms and he felt extremely lucky too that he’s able to make you feel a little better

★ riki - weeekly

you were both on weekly weeekly idol together

and both you and riki being main dancers, you were asked to do random dance together

a few popular songs played and the both of you did the choreos

until after school started playing and the boy did the chorus’ choreo and you were like “woah???”

bc he was so INTO ITTTT

the song was basically made for him to cover it

and the mcs saw your reaction so they asked him to do it once again but this time with the whole group

after filming, he came up to you and was like “i’m a huge fan of yours” and you’re just like ):&/£]>\**_£]

“woah really???? i rooted for you on i-land”

and his face just lights up bc his huge crush on you developed even more

you became besties since then but he didn’t ask you out until your birthday

he took you out to a puppy café, knowing you were obsessed with dogs

you’d ask him to show you pictures and videos of bisco

“i better meet bisco once we go to japan together”

melted at the thought of traveling to his hometown with you

anyways

once you left the café, he kissed you in front of your dorms

and somehow he became your boyfriend <3

riki as a bf isn’t really a very public person

he’s the “this is our relationship, not the public’s” type of person

he doesn’t wanna risk companies wanting to exploit your relationship

although he doesn’t talk about you two much, he loves to brag about you when given the chance

whenever variety show hosts would fawn over you he’d just look them in the eyes dead and go “she’s mine”

#enhypen x y/n #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enhypen x reader #enhypen fluff #enhypen reactions #enhypen headcanons #enhypen angst #enhypen x female reader #enhypen x you #heeseung x reader #jay x reader #jake x reader #sunghoon x reader #sunoo x reader #jungwon x reader #ni ki x reader #heeseung imagines #jay imagines #jake imagines #sunghoon imagines #sunoo imagines #jungwon imagines #ni ki imagines

[arrowflier]

hi 💛 i know this may be out of character for post-finale, but i was wondering if you could write a bit of angst (with happy ending of course) where mickey becomes more withdrawn from the gallagher fam cause he doesn’t feel like he really belongs (thinking of lip during the “mickey’s not family” kitchen scene and mickey&lip’s fight) - maybe mick is staying back at their westside apartment more often, not attending family events, only feels comfortable around ian, etc. - eventually ian catches on, they talk, and he makes it better 🥰

This went a little different and it's ooc for the other Gallaghers, but I think it still hits the general vibe so I just went with it.

---

The wake of Frank Gallagher’s death was filled with uncertainty. For the present, the future, the family. For Ian. Because for all Ian said he wouldn’t care when Frank died, for all he said he was done caring for, mourning for a man that used him, threw him aside…

When it came down to it, Ian was still a Gallagher. And Gallaghers didn’t let each other go that easily.

Mickey wasn’t a Gallagher. He never had been. And he had never felt that difference more strongly than now, standing behind the counter in the Gallagher family kitchen, feeling like an eavesdropper as he listened to them plan.

Plan for a wake no one wanted, a remembrance no one asked for. Plan out Frank’s goodbye while the man himself sat in ashes on the mantelpiece.

Ian looked tired sitting on the opposite side of the room, facing Mickey. His face was drawn, his eyes squinted thin and surrounded by red, and his mouth twisted as he argued with Lip over how much of the money from selling the house should go toward completely unnecessary arrangements.

“I’m just saying,” Ian said plainly, “that we don’t need to do anything fancy. There’s nothing wrong with a cheap party at the Alibi.”

“Party,” Lip snorted. “Don’t think this is the kind of thing we’re supposed to celebrate.”

“Why the fuck not?” Mickey couldn’t help himself from chiming in. “Frank was an asshole, and nobody cared when he was dyin’ on the goddamn sofa.”

It was true enough. They had all been rather unbothered by his imminent demise until they got the call, a few words over a tinny phone connection enough to suddenly make it real. To make it important.

“No matter how much we hated him, he was still our dad, Mickey,” Lip argued, wiping a hand over his face. He eyed the drink Carl held hungrily before taking a slow sip of his own cola, adding, “Not all of us can just leave family to fuckin’ rot.”

And that hurt. Felt like a fucking kick in the chest, over a heart already bruised. He could see Ian watching him, though, and his husband had enough to deal with without getting into Mickey’s shit again.

“He’s already cremated,” Mickey pointed out, putting on an unconcerned face for Ian’s benefit. “Nothing left to rot, man.”

“Well we can’t just do nothing,” Debbie said, for once on Lip’s side. “I mean yeah, he was a shitty dad, but it’s not like he was Terry.”

“Not a high bar,” Mickey countered. “Think he deserves some kind of parade just cause he didn’t try and kill any of ya on purpose?”

A brief moment, just one, as that went through the room. Then:

“Mickey,” Lip sighed, “just let us deal with this, yeah? This is kind of a—”

“Family only thing,” Mickey interrupted bitterly, repeating words that Lip had thrown around one too many times. “Yeah, I figured.”

Ian offered an apologetic look from across the table, but didn’t argue for him. Not like last time, when his first thought had been to defend Mickey’s place.

Mickey took the hint.

“I’ll be out back,” Mickey said shortly, directed at Ian, and marched toward the door. “You know, whenever fucking family time is over.”

“Mickey…” Ian called after him, but he didn’t get up. Didn’t follow. And as Mickey left, he could vaguely hear Ian making apologies.

So he didn’t stop when he went down the steps. And he didn’t stop at the gate. He didn’t stop at the sidewalk, or the street, or the edge of the neighborhood.

If he wasn’t fuckin’ family, he didn’t need to be at the family home. So he went to his new one instead.

---

“Mickey?” Ian called out as he entered the apartment, hours later. “Mickey, are you here?”

Mickey didn’t answer. Ian found him anyway.

“There you are,” he said with a sigh as he came into the living room, where Mickey lay sprawled over the sofa. He stopped at Mickey’s side, towering over him.

“You weren’t answering your phone,” Ian complained, looking to the device Mickey held with both hands. “Why did you leave?”

“Why do you think?” Mickey answered. “Wasn’t exactly welcome.”

Ian had the grace to look chagrined.

“Sorry about that,” he said sheepishly. “You know how Lip gets…”

“Stupid?” Mickey said, and Ian shrugged.

“I mean, yeah. Kind of.”

Mickey went back to playing on his phone, leaving Ian standing awkwardly at his side.

“I told them I’d come back once I found you,” Ian told him abruptly. “You should come with me.”

Mickey didn’t answer, eyes on his game.

“Will you come?” Ian pressed, and Mickey dropped his phone with a sigh.

“They don’t want me there,” he answered. He lifted a hand to rub the back of his neck, and Ian caught it, pulled it away.

“Why would you say that?” he asked, voice earnest, his thumb tracing circles on Mickey’s wrist.

“Dunno,” Mickey lied, then caved immediately. “It’s a family thing,” he said. “And I ain’t family.”

“You’re my family,” Ian countered, but Mickey shook his head, pulling his hand free.

That wasn’t enough.

They were quiet, for a moment, and Mickey was about to give up and pick up his phone again when Ian broke the silence.

“You’re more family than Frank was, if you think about it,” he said suddenly. “Definitely more of a Gallagher, if you only count the good bits.”

“It’s cheating to only count the good parts of me,” Mickey argued, feeling bitter, and Ian knocked his shoulder with his hand.

“Meant only the good bits of being a Gallagher, Mick,” he corrected, rolling his eyes before they settled, soft, on Mickey’s face. “Stuff like being there, taking care of each other. Sticking together when things get rough.”

“Don’t think your brother agrees,” Mickey said flatly, then winced as Ian sat down hard on his outstretched legs.

“My brother,” Ian started, “is an idiot.”

Well, Mickey wasn’t going to argue with that.

“But believe it or not,” Ian continued, “he does think of you as family.” Mickey tried to cut in, but Ian glared at him until he closed his mouth, settling back against the arm of the sofa.

“You know what I heard him telling somebody the other day?” Ian asked. Not waiting for a reply, he said, “that if they had any trouble, he’d sic his brother-in-law on them.”

“Don’t think using me as a threat counts as me being part of the family,” Mickey grumbled, but Ian shook his head.

“Wasn’t a threat,��� he explained. “He was offering your services. Cause you’re part of the family, now, and he knows you would help him.”

He would. Of course he would. Without a second thought, even for his least favorite in-law, even at risk for himself. But it was a surprise to hear that Lip knew that.

“Carl tells people you taught him how to fight,” Ian went on. “Brags that the infamous Mickey Milkovich taught him everything, and that’s why he makes a good cop.”

Mickey snorted. Of course that little fucker did.

“Didn’t think he’d grow up to be a pig, did I?” he said, and Ian just smiled.

“Liam tells the school bullies that if they mess with him, his brother will beat them up,” Ian continued. “Didn’t work very well until he said that brother was you.”

“Damn right I would,” Mickey agreed easily, scowling at the idea of anyone giving Liam a hard time. “He’s a good fucking kid.”

“And Franny fucking adores you,” Ian said, knowing it would make Mickey smile. “Which means Debbie does, too.” Ian scooted closer, sitting on Mickey’s thighs instead of his shins.

“You know I offered to babysit the other day, and the first thing Debs asked was if you would be there?” Ian laughed. “She almost said no until I promised you would be.”

“Little sis has good sense,” Mickey muttered, flushing to his ears, and Ian nodded.

“She does,” he agreed. “They all do.” He raised a hand to Mickey’s face, held his cheek. Stroked his thumb over it. “You’re family, Mickey,” he whispered. “And they love you. Just like I do.”

“Fucking sap,” Mickey murmured, leaning into the touch.

“You know it,” Ian said, and pulled him in for a kiss.

When they parted, Ian took Mickey’s worries with him.

“What do you say?” Ian asked softly, hand sliding down to Mickey’s neck. “Come home with me, let them apologize?”

“Thought this was home, now,” Mickey said.

“It is home, for us,” Ian answered. “But the house is home too. Family is home,” he stressed. “And you’re family.”

“Lip ain’t gonna apologize,” Mickey pointed out next, leaning in again, and Ian shrugged.

“Come home with me and tell him he’s an asshole?” Ian offered instead.

Mickey grinned, resting their foreheads together.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “I can do that.”

#daily speedwrite #gallavich #fanfic #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #lip gallagher

[ibijau]

Futures Past pt15 / on AO3

Nie Huaisang returns to the Unclean Realm after his failed year in Gusu

The Unclean Realm, usually a noisy place, had fallen nearly entirely silent as most of the disciples and quite a few servants gathered around its gate. They were all careful to keep a respectable distance from the gate in question, in case things went wrong, but still did their best to be close enough to get a good view. Not that it was particularly necessary to be near enough to hear what was happening. Nie Mingjue had a voice that carried, and it only got worse when he was angry at his brother.

Which he currently was, of course, and for good reason everyone thought. After all, Nie Huaisang had just returned from his time studying in the Cloud Recesses, though he’d apparently done little learning there.

But it wasn’t his failure to pass his exams that had his brother so upset. It was more the fact that on the way back home, Nie Huaisang had decided to leave on his own and disappeared for well over three weeks. The other Nie disciples travelling with him had just found a note on his bed one morning announcing that he didn’t feel like going home yet. They had panicked and sent an urgent message to their sect leader, who had also panicked and launched a search for his brother, in vain.

“You could have been kidnapped!” Nie Mingjue shouted at his brother, who had arrived that morning, looking as careless as if he’d just been gone for a shichen on an errand. “You could have been attacked by bandits! Did you even have your sabre with you?”

“Of course I did!” Nie Huaisang exclaimed, patting the weapon at his waist. “What was I going to do, walk around?”

“It would have been safer than flying in your case! What if you’d fallen?”

Nie Huaisang rolled his eyes. His cultivation had actually improved quite a bit while he was in the Cloud Recesses, if only because the Lans didn’t let him avoid training as much as his brother did. He was even quite close to forming a golden core, something he’d more or less given up on, and for which he hoped he’d get praised, whenever his brother calmed down enough to hear the news. So while he wasn’t the strongest of flyers, he was doing much better than he used to.

Not that Nie Mingjue was in any mood to hear that.

“I was careful, I swear,” Nie Huaisang sighed. “You’re always saying I should be more independent anyway!”

“Independent, not reckless! And who’s that?” Nie Mingjue roared, pointing at the person next to his brother.

That had been the question on everyone's mind since Nie Huaisang had arrived a little earlier, a boy much younger than himself walking at his side, but so far Nie Huaisang had avoided answering.

“Oh, that’s Xue Yang,” Nie Huaisang cheerfully announced, patting the young boy’s shoulder. “I picked him up along the way. You should test him, I really think he’s going to be a great cultivator someday! Xue Yang, that’s my brother, say hi to him?”

Xue Yang threw Nie Mingjue a very unimpressed look, and gave a half-hearted bow.

“It's an honour to meet Nie zongzhu,” he said with some uncertainty, probably wishing he hadn't been so close while Nie Mingjue shouted at his brother like that.

“Huaisang, where did you find that child?” Nie Mingjue asked.

“It’s a long story,” his brother said.

Nie Mingjue nodded, and waited for the story in question to be told. Nie Huaisang just smiled at him.

“Are you going to tell me how you found him?” Nie Mingjue insisted when nothing more came.

“No. It’s a long story, but it’s not very interesting. He’s here now, though, so that can’t be helped.”

Hearing this, Nie Mingjue turned his attention to Xue Yang, as if hoping he might get an explanation there. The young boy just gave him a wicked smile.

“He said I’d get candies if I came,” Xue Yang said. “Am I gonna get them now or what?”

Nie Mingju’s eyes snapped back to his brother.

“Huaisang, did you steal a child by offering him treats? You realise how bad that looks?”

“It’s not stealing when it’s a person,” Nie Huaisang protested, nervously twisting his fingers for a moment before hiding his hands behind his back. “And I think children count as people, not things. Right?”

“Fine. Did you kidnap a child?”

A little embarrassed, Nie Huaisang hunched his shoulder and looked down at his feet without answering. A mistake, it turned out, because Xue Yang took that as his cue to explain things.

“It’s okay, I don’t have a family anyway,” Xue Yang announced. “He asked before taking me with him, to make sure I’m an orphan. And your brother’s nice. He took me to all those nice inns along the way, and every time he made sure I had food and a bath. He said the baths were very important.”

Nie Mingjue glared at his brother who winced because that could indeed be misunderstood. Which was exactly why Xue Yang had said it like that, he suspected. But really, Xue Yang had been in a pretty bad state when Nie Huaisang had picked him up. His hair was nearly stiff with dirty, he’d recently bled all over his clothes, and he had lice, and...

“Fine, I guess I’ll have to tell the story,” Nie Huaisang grumbled. He had already come up with a sanitised version of events that he could actually share with his brother, but it still annoyed him to not be trusted more. “So, I wanted to visit Kuizhou, you see? Everyone says the landscapes around it are so gorgeous, and so melancholic, and they are by the way. I want to go back to paint and write and…”

“Focus, Huaisang,” Nie Mingjue ordered, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Yes, right. So, I went there,” Nie Huaisang said, playing with the hem of his sleeve. “And I was visiting and stuff, and then I see a grown man punching and kicking a kid! Just because the kid had grabbed a few things from him!”

“Yeah, it was just his purse, and there wasn’t even that much money in it,” Xue Yang helpfully provided. “Well, and a few buns from his stall, and those apples from the stall next to his, and…”

“Shut it,” Nie Huaisang hissed, before returning his attention to his brother, a bright smile on his face. “So, you always say we have to defend the weak, and nobody’s weaker than a kid, so I went to check what was going on, right? And the man told me that kid is a terrible thief that’s plaguing their town, and he’s going to beat him up until all his bones are broken and he can never bother anyone else. But it’s just a kid!”

“Yeah, I’m just a kid!”

“Shut it! Anyway, I rescued the kid, because he really was in a bad state. And then I figured, well, how can someone that’s just a kid be such a good thief, right? So I checked and he’s got good dispositions for cultivation!”

It had been a lucky realisation, because he hadn’t known for sure that Xue Yang even was meant to become a cultivator, nor a talented one for that matter. In fact, the whole thing had been unbelievably lucky. Sure Nie Huaisang had spent three whole days searching everywhere for Xue Yang, but he’d been about ready to give up when he’d finally found him in roughly the exact way he'd described.

“The local sect are a bunch of pricks who didn’t want to take him in when I asked,” Nie Huaisang explained, as if he could ever have left Xue Yang into the care of strangers who might have failed to stop him from becoming evil. “So I brought him home. He’s going to be a great disciple!”

Having listened to that story with mounting annoyance, Nie Mingjue glared at his brother.

“Huaisang, that’s…”

“You always say people deserve a chance no matter their background!”

“Oh so you do listen when I talk sometimes?”

“He’s an orphan, and he’s talented, and someone has to do something, and we can’t send him back or else he might continue stealing maybe!”

“I’ll definitely continue stealing if you send me back,” Xue Yang promised with a smirk.

Nie Huaisang glared at him. Evil or not, Xue Yang knew how to be annoying.

He also knew how to be charming, though. He’d been absolutely delightful with a bunch of people they’d met on the way to Qinghe whenever he’d thought he could get something out of it. And it had worked, too. Xue Yang had obtained a lot of sweets from a lot of people, as well as some money here and there. And that was without mentioning the stuff he’d just outright stolen, sometimes from the very people generously sharing something with him. He was a little pest, all right.

But he was smart too, smart enough to understand what an incredible opportunity he’d been given. It would have been easy for Xue Yang to run away into the night, taking with him all of Nie Huaisang’s money. He was a skilled enough thief to manage it, especially once he’d realised that Nie Huaisang wasn’t a skilled enough cultivator to pursue him. But he hadn’t, because he’d been promised a chance of becoming a cultivator if Nie Huaisang could just convince his brother.

Of course, that was a pretty big 'if'.

A year earlier, Nie Huaisang would have been certain that he could convince his brother of anything. He’d never had any reason to doubt that, not until his future self had come into his life uninvited and whispered poison to him about Nie Mingjue having a bad opinion of him. And maybe he was right, that old prick. Nie Huaisang had messed up so badly in the Cloud Recesses, failing his classes in a way most people never did. He’d shamed his sect, his clan, his brother, and now he had the galls of asking for a huge favour, as if he had any right to…

“How old are you?” Nie Mingjue asked Xue Yang, who shrugged.

“Dunno. I think I’m older than nine, maybe, ‘cause I remember that bad drought we had one year. But old Cheng says I’m probably less than twelve, ‘cause I don’t have all my teeth yet.”

To prove his point, Xue Yang clenched his jaw and bared his teeth. He was indeed missing one canine on the left, while the right one was just starting to regrow. It made for a very odd smile, and yet Xue Yang knew how to use that to look cute sometimes.

Cuteness wouldn’t work on Nie Mingjue though. Years of dealing with Nie Huaisang had made him nearly immune to it.

"What did my idiot brother tell you to convince you to come all the way here from Kuizhou?" 

"He said I'd learn to be a cultivator, and people wouldn't beat me up ever again for stealing," Xue Yang recited. "And he said I'd have to learn to be good and stuff, because it's a second chance for an honest life, and I figured, well, it's better than the streets."

Nie Mingjue nodded, though he still looked severe enough that Nie Huaisang wasn’t sure yet of his victory. 

"We have a certain way of doing things in my sect, and dishonesty isn't allowed. And I'll need to check if you can be taught at all. Come closer and give me your hand." 

Xue Yang, impossibly cocky a moment before, suddenly hesitated and glanced at both Nie brothers before hiding his hands behind his back. 

"Which hand ?" 

"Either one, it makes no difference." 

"It might a bit," Xue Yang grumbled before reluctantly raising both hands. 

Nie Mingjue frowned when he noticed that one finger was missing, but Nie Huaisang took it to be an encouraging frown and finally relaxed. It expressed concern rather than anger, and that had to be a step in the right direction. 

"That looks old," Nie Mingjue noted, grabbing Xue Yang's left hand to inspect it. "Hm. That's not neat enough to have been cut off. What happened to you?" 

"Someone's cart ran over my hand on purpose," Xue Yang muttered, trying in vain to pull his hand free. "I was little. It's fine now, I swear!"

It was far from fine, actually. Xue Yang himself might not have realised it since he was used to it, but Nie Huaisang had noticed that the young boy favoured his right hand a lot more than was normal, even for a right-handed person. In another sect, that might have been a problem. But Qinghe Nie was more martial than most others, a little more reckless too, and they had their share of cultivators who'd had nasty accidents. 

A missing finger in a stiff hand wasn't so bad compared to some people. 

"We'll have to get you a light sabre," Nie Mingjue said, mostly to himself after a quick check of the boy’s meridians. "Something you can use one-handed, like Huaisang. And I'll ask our doctor to have a look at it. It looks painful." 

"No, it's fine, I don't feel pain anymore," Xue Yang proudly announced as he pulled his hand free. "Trained myself out of it, mostly."

"You are definitely going to see Zhilan," Nie Mingjue replied, frowning harder. "Huaisang’s right, you do have potential, so we'll train you.” He turned toward their audience of disciples, and gestured for one man to walk closer. “Zonghui! Come and give that kid a tour, and a meal. When he's eaten, take him to see Zhilan, and have a bed prepared for him."

“I’m in?” Xue Yang asked, so startled that for once, he really did look his age.

He glanced at Nie Huaisang who grinned at him and nodded, then turned his eyes back to Nie Mingjue who nodded as well.

“You’re in. Go with Nie Zonghui, he’ll explain everything you need to know about being part of this sect.”

With surprising obedience that had to be a side effect of surprise, Xue Yang trotted away with Nie Mingjue’s first disciple. Nie Huaisang tried to follow, equal parts curious and worried about what might happen next if he lost sight of Xue Yang. He hadn’t taken two steps before Nie Mingjue grabbed him by the collar to stop him.

“And where are you going?”

Nie Huaisang pointed toward Xue Yang. His brother gave him a pointed look, and started dragging him in another direction, leaving him no choice but to follow or be strangled.

“I’m tired,” Nie Huaisang complained. Then, noticing that they appeared to be going toward the training grounds, he struggled against his brother’s grasp. “Wait, da-ge, I’m really tired, I mean it! We’ve had to walk so long, you know! We’ve only been able to hitch a ride on carts for some of the way, so I can’t feel my legs anymore for how much walking I’ve done lately.”

“If you’d come home directly from the Cloud Recesses, you’d have ridden in a carriage,” Nie Mingjue retorted without an ounce of pity. “Now let’s see if you’ve made any progress with your sabre, aside from using it to run away. We’re going to spar together.”

“I can’t, I’m so tired!” Nie Huaisang whined. “I’m going to die if I have to move! And you’re so much stronger than me, there’s no point in training together, the difference is too great! Da-ge, have some mercy, let me eat something first! Let me rest! And I need to change clothes too, and I really should check how my birds are, and…”

“Shut up you brat! This is your punishment for getting me so worried!” Nie Mingjue snapped, pushing his brother onto the softer soil of the training ground. “Do your warm-ups!”

“But I’m starving, da-ge!”

“That’s your own fault for running away!” Nie Mingjue replied, showing yet again he was the most cruel person in the entire world.

And yet as soon as Nie Huaisang started stretching in preparation for a friendly fight, Nie Mingjue asked a disciple to go ask the kitchens if they might send some fresh buns and a little tea that way. Aggravated as he was that his brother only cared about checking his cultivation and martial art progress, Nie Huaisang couldn’t help but smile.

After everything his older self had said about Nie Mingjue really despising him, he’d been worried that his brother would indeed be furious at him for everything he’d done, from failing his classes to forcing him to take in a miscreant. But no matter how shouty and frowny he currently was, it was clear to anyone who knew him, as his brother did, that Nie Mingjue was worried-angry rather than angry-angry.

Nie Huaisang had gambled and won, thus proving to himself that he definitely knew his brother better than his older self did.

#xisang #nie huaisang #nie mingjue #xue yang #mo dao zu shi #mdzs #jau writes #double time travel #this was almost a much longer chapter but I figured the next visit of future nhs could be posted on its own next week

[moomingitz]

It’s... interesting looking back at the Jak and Daxter series, because when the second and third games first came out during my edgy teen years my mindset for them was mostly, “OMG Jak is now a buff and rugged edgy boi, he’s saying curse words, and has a literal edgy dark side to him. And Daxter is a big playboi who doesn’t hide his love for bewbs. Jak and Daxter is no longer for babies but for mature big kids like me!”

But looking at the series now; Holy shit, Jak has had it rough. Where do I even begin? This is going to be long, so get comfortable:

First, Jak was ripped away from his father at a very young age due to an insurrection. Then he was kidnapped by one of the people who was responsible for it, with the intention of being used to awaken some ancient Precursor technology, but luckily he somehow escaped and then was taken in by a rebellion group.

Then he was sent back into the past to be raised by Samos, the Sage of Green Eco. While that was a good thing for Jak, since he was able to grow up in a loving and supportive environment, what happened to him before that is something that would still be traumatic to a little kid especially in the form of something like Separation Anxiety. While this goes into headcanon territory, I can’t help but wonder if that had a lot to do with why Jak was the mostly silent type before the events of the second game. But thankfully he was lucky to grow up with two best friends like Daxter and Keira.

Surely you think that would be the end of misfortune Jak would have to go through. Wrong!

Fast forward to where he’s now 15 years old and everything seems all good and exciting after he and Daxter saved the world from Dee Snider and his twisted sister. Sure they didn’t accomplish what they set out for by turning Daxter back into his old humanoid self, by Daxter is content staying as a furry anyway. At least they saved the world and found some ancient Precursor technology. But hold up! Turns out it was some kind of rift gate and the moment they activated it some giant bug monster pops out and they’re all separated and thrown into some new place they’ve never seen.

Literal seconds later, before Jak or Daxter have any time to react or process what exactly just happened and where they ended up, Jak is immediately arrested and knocked unconscious, despite doing nothing wrong. He’s then tortured and experimented on for the next two years, in hopes of turning him into a living weapon by pumping Dark Eco into him. Keep in mind Jak was only 15-16 years old during those nightmarish two years of his life. But his BFF Daxter never gave up looking for him and eventually rescued Jak.

Upon busting out Jak has no damn idea where exactly he is, and when he does it turns out him and Daxter are now in a totalitarian, police state of a hellhole where never ending propaganda is blared everywhere you go, and where Jak’s only crime is just existing. Oh, and there’s currently an ongoing war between this police state regime ruling the city and some species called Metal Heads, so the territory outside the city is near inhospitable. So just simply leaving Haven City isn’t really an option. It’s either deal with the Krimson Gaurd who will get on you for just sneezing in the wrong direction, or claw your way for survival outside the city walls.

Until finding Samos and Kiera much later, Daxter is the only familiar and welcoming face Jak still had until then(the only exception being Sig in the “welcoming face” department).

Oh, and it turns out those Dark Eco experiments gave JAk some dark Hulk like form that he has trouble controlling(at least that’s what the game tells us). Oh, and they eventually learn that this shithole place they found themselves in is actually their home 500 years into the future. Oh, and it turns that this little kid they’ve been having to protect from both the Krimson Guard and the Metal Head army is actually Jak’s younger self.

Despite all that, the rebellion group and many of the criminals they had to work with eventually warm up and even become their friends, the authoritarian regime eventually crumbles, and they kill the Metal Head leader. Even though Jak doesn’t go back to his childhood home in the past, Keira, Samos, and Daxter choose to stay with him in the future, so he’s definitely not alone in the end. Happy ending earned, and that should be the end of all the bad stuff to happen in Jak’s life, right?...

Of course that wouldn’t be the end of bad traumatic shit to happen to Jak!

Right after the events of the second game, Jak is not only blamed for the fallout of the Praxis regime falling and the Metal Head army’s demise, but he’s outright banished to the Wasteland, no thanks to some weasely council member, Veger.

But ya boi Daxter snuck out to join Jak in his exile, so at least Jak still has his best friend with him. Jak now has to survive in a Mad Max esque land after proving himself worthy to Damas, the leader of some refuge village. But it’s kind of good because he slowly gets on this guy’s good graces.

Oh, but later on it turns out this Damas guy is actually the very father Jak was forcibly separated from during his very early childhood. But, Jak only figured that out just as Damas was dying, and he didn’t have a chance to tell Damas that he was his son that’s he’s been wanting to find for years.

It also turns out this Veger douchebag was one of the people aside from Baron Praxis who was responsible for Jak being separated from Dadmas, and was the guy who kidnapped him in an attempt use him to obtain that ancient Precursor technology.

Of course everything works out in the end. But yeah... You see what I mean? Jak was put through the wringer during the events of this whole trilogy! He's done nothing wrong! Yet starting from a very young age he’s either been targeted or dragged into other’s messes for just existing, or for something he had no choice to do in order to survive. The only real thing he did wrong was dragging Daxter over to Misty Island, which led to him being accidentally transformed into an ottsel in the first place. But the events of the first games was all a lighthearted adventure anyway. Aside from that it’s been one unfortunate or traumatic event after another for Jak.

When letting everything Jak went through really sink in, there’s guaranteed trauma and the resulting PTSD this poor guy is going to have to address or else it will inevitably manifest itself in some way later on. Acting gruff and blase' will only work for so long. I know some people get tired with pieces of fiction being compared to Steven Universe, but Steven’s eventual mental breakdown seriously came to mind. And some people will say, “It’s just a vidya game, stop thinking too much into it.”, but there was a conscious decision to take this series into a more dark and mature direction after the first game. So, it’s a bit hard not to think about more possible unpleasant implications based on what happened in the sequels, especially when looking at the events of the games through the lenses of today.

Taking all of this into consideration is also why I think Daxter is seriously the “MVP” of the series.

Daxter grew up being Jak’s best friend, which I’m sure helped Jak a lot after being separated from his father and taken to a literal place in time completely different and unfamiliar to him. I’m very sure his time growing up in Sandover Village and hanging out with Daxter was the best period of Jak’s life. Even after Jak dragged him to Misty Island, accidentally causing him to be transformed into an ottsel, and sacrificing his chance to be turned back to normal in order to save the world, Daxter showed no hard feelings towards Jak and he even learns to like being an ottsel.

He spent two years trying to find out where Jak was being held prisoner in Haven City, and infiltrated the place once he did and helped Jak escape.

And despite not having any fingers pointed towards him for the fallout after the events of the second game, Daxter still chooses to join Jak in exile in the Wasteland.

Daxter has never shown any ill will towards Jak despite him being the one responsible for being turned into an ottsel, and he’s never really abandoned him even when he is given many chances to or a way to get himself out of really bad situations. Despite everything, Daxter is still the same quippy, upbeat dork of a friend Jak has grown up with.

I really believe Daxter helped a lot with keeping Jak’s sanity intact during all of the hell he was put through and beyond. If there was a guaranteed way for someone to sign their own death warrant with Jak, I think harming or outright killing Daxter would be it.

#Jak and Daxter #Jak II #Jak 3 #Daxter #Damas

[uhgoodmoni]

I’ll Sleep on the Floor | JJK

Summary: Eunjae (oc) and Jungkook aren’t really friends. Like, at all. Actually Eunjae hates Jungkook’s guts. The real issue is that they both are best friends with Seokjin, who wishes that they would just get over their seemingly petty hatred for one another. So to try and solve that Jin invites them to a trip in Greece. Should be fun in paradise? But paradise turns to disaster when a flight gets delayed... they need a hotel and... There’s only ONE bed??

Warnings: Angst cause I always have angst, some fluff ig, idk this ones pretty chill tbh, implied anxiety 

(14,286 words) 

Ao3 | Wattpad

~

 With my suitcase trailing behind me, wheels scoring the tiles, I walk towards my gate. The first flight was easy up until the end. I napped restfully the entire time but as we came to Tbilisi International Airport in Georgia, the captain had announced that the descent would have rough turbulence because of the storm that was starting. Rough turbulence indeed, a few storage bins had opened up, allowing passengers belongings to fall to the cabin floor. My items were safe, luckily, but the woman seated in front of me had gotten a book to the face. We landed safely and that really was the only thing to be concerned about. Thunder echoed throughout the airport, the flash of lightning shining through the windows. This was bad, very bad. The second flight I would take, Tbilisi air to Athens air. Would it get delayed? I pray not as I walked towards the gate.

Seokjin and I had planned the trip to the T, the next departure an hour and a half after the time we’d land in Tbilisi. A shame we even had to have a layover but our last minute planning had cursed us with that. 

I feel like calling Jin now that I have service. Or wifi anyway. So I pull out my phone as I continue my stroll. The airport here is not as busy as Incheon, but still bustling with more people than expected at 8pm. 

“Did you make it?” I smile at Jin’s voice coming through the speaker of my phone, only seventy percent. I should charge it before the next flight. 

“No, the plane crashed in a fiery accident and I’m calling from my deathbed.” I glance around, looking for a map, or a guide or something that would tell me if I was headed in the right direction. 

“Ah, good to know. The beach is waiting here for you. The sun is setting now.”

I look out the window, “I’ve got bad news.” 

“What?” He asks, his voice changing to worry after hearing the change in my own tone. “Has Jungkook’s flight not landed yet?” 

I shake my head, “No, no. I don’t know where he is. I haven’t even got to my gate yet.” Looking for Jungkook? As if I could care if his plane landed or not. Hopefully it hasn’t and I can fly the final stretch to Greece alone. “There's a storm, it's thundering and I’m not sure if it is going to stick around or not. I haven't checked if our flight is on time.”

He hums, “Well figure it out and let me know.” I nod, seeing the flight list a little further down, just small enough in my vision not to see it yet. Jin stays on the line as I walk.

I glare up at the lit up sign. “Isn’t it supposed to be clear weather here.” I groan, red sign in Georgian, and next to it in English. Delayed. 

“That doesn’t sound good? Delayed?”

I sigh, “Yeah.” I look towards where I think my gate is and see the correct number. A few attendants were talking to passengers. “I’m gonna go find out how long. I’ll call you back.” 

He hums and hangs up first, he’s probably upset, he’d already been in Greece the whole day alone. He’d just have to wait. It’s not like I have any other choice. 

The passengers are complaining of course, their nags getting to my ears before I am close to the desk. Their questions were “How long really is it?” and “you’re joking right?” But some of the other’s I didn’t understand because they weren’t speaking English or Korean. 

I look around the gate, seeing that dreaded face sitting in the waiting area. He smiles at me, but only because he knows I’m unhappy to see him. I try not to let him get to me, and I walk towards him instead of the desk. Surely he already knows. Which I’m sure he does because his face turns to a frown as I get closer. 

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news.” he mutters as I reach him, standing up to face me. “But the flight is delayed.”

I shake my head. Yeah I already know that. “How long?” 

He shrugs, “They haven’t said how long yet.” 

“What?” I flip to the attendant at the desk. “How do they not know?”

Jungkook smirks, “It’s nice to see you by the way. And you look just great.” He says, and he’s being sarcastic. I glare and then remember to soften my face because I was sure I looked like a bitch to the poor attendant behind the desk who was already surrounded by Karens. 

“Seriously?” I take a deep breath, holding in my feelings that are already about to explode. Fifteen minutes in the airport and only one minute in his presence and I was ready to punch him. 

“All I said was that you look great and it’s nice to see you.” He shrugs, that smug grin never leaving his face. “And all you have to say is seriously? Can’t even greet me back?”

I ignore him, seeing an open opportunity to speak with the attendant and slip between the shoulders of two others. “Hi excuse me, this flight is delayed right?”

The person nods, “Yes I am so sorry.” But they don’t say anything else. 

“Is it possible you could tell me when it’s going to take off?” I pursue further, but the attendant looks dejected, making me think Jungkook was right. 

“Georgia isn’t a country where storms this bad come in. This is probably the worst storm they’ve seen this summer. We just don’t have an exact time right now.” 

“You’re joking right?” I sigh to myself, and then cringe realizing I sound like everyone else who is surrounding them. “I’m sorry, actually is there any information that you can give me?”

The attendant frowns, speaking to all of us now. “It’s likely that this flight will be canceled within the hour.” They pull out a map of the airport from under the desk. “For rescheduling you’ll want to go here. They point to a dot on the far end, “It should be easy to get one within the next day or so.” My eyes widen. Day or so? I look back to Jungkook who looks equally as worried.

I thank the attendant and return to my luggage and Jungkook at the benches. “What do we do?”

He glances at the hoard of people heading away from the gate, “Try and get on a flight that’s open I guess.” He sighs, pulling up his phone and dialing for Jin.

I bite my lip, glancing and seeing that the people were all heading off to do the same thing. Our stress-free flight that was planned to the T was no longer in sight. And now the line of those trying to do the same thing as us, would make it take even longer.

“Hey…” I turn to Jungkook who sits back down in the chair. “They are advising us to find another flight. Something for tomorrow or the next day…” He’s talking to Jin, whose voice I hear on the other end. Much more upset than he was earlier. I try and listen in as I sit next to Jungkook, the nagging feeling that I should go get us a spot in line urging me to bite at the inside of my mouth even more. But the line would be long whether I went now or waited with Jungkook. 

“Yeah I know… I’m really sorry Jin.” Jungkook says and then faintly I hear an ‘its not your fault’ and then an ‘room service here is good’ I smile at this, hoping that Jin would make the best of our late comings. “We are going to wait until they cancel it and then I guess see what kind of flights there are. I’ll call you then okay?”

I shake my head. He decided for the both of us. I open my mouth as he finally hangs up the phone but he speaks before I can. 

“Listen Eunjae, before you get all gripey with me, I think we should wait because if we go and buy new tickets just to find out that this attendant was wrong and the flight doesn’t get canceled that would fucking suck.” My mouth shuts and Jungkook grins. For now I would listen to him. 

Twenty minutes later the sign changed to cancel. Jungkooks defeat, not that it brings me joy. But if anything is going to make me smile in this situation it would be that Jungkook is wrong. 

“What if they only have one seat?” I grin at the thought of this. “Can I buy the first flight out?” Jungkook rolls his eyes. 

“Jin might despise you.” He retorts, dragging along one more smaller suitcase than me. I know he was right and stop thinking about the idea. Jin would be furious. Maybe more than Jungkook knew. 

Before we had planned the trip Jin had come to me very angry, (as angry as he lets himself get) and very sad that his two best friends hate each other's guts. He had said it made him anxious and he wasn’t sure if either of us would stick around him because of the other. 

Which had never crossed my mind. Of course I hate everytime Jin tells me Jungkook would be at an event or would be tagging along with us but I didn’t think that it bothered Jin. To be honest it looked like it stressed him out more than Jungkook and I. Which I understand. It is hard to be the middleman. 

No, I never thought about not hanging out with Jin because of Jungkook. Well maybe I was lying. But it was never a permanent thought in my head. Rather it was fleeting in moments that I found out Jungkook would be coming and I didn’t want to go that night anymore. I always told Jin that there were ways to schedule us around eachother, and he’d pretend to listen. Which genuinely upset me, because Jungkook is an asshole. An asshole who I hate, and Jin should listen to how I feel too. But I never tell him that. Instead I agreed to go to Greece with the two of them. Jungkook completely unaware that this is basically a bonding experiment. 

“The earliest flight I can put you both on together is tomorrow evening at 5 pm” Which is extremely disappointing. Regardless, we don’t have another choice, so we laid out some money for the flight. Now another decision would have to be made. To stay in the airport and sleep on the floor, waiting hours and hours on end, or to get a hotel just outside of the airport. “With or without you I am getting out of this place.” Jungkook groans, and for once I agree with him and in silence we find our way to the exit. “I called a hotel that’s pretty close.” I say putting the phone down, exhausted as we had just gone through security. “They said we are lucky there are two rooms open so last minute.” Jungkook only grunts in response, hailing a cab for us. I sigh, which is the most either of us lets out the entire car ride to the hotel except to thank and pay the driver. 

Neither of us speak when we exit either, heading into the hotel side by side but far apart. Despite the silence so obviously caused by resentment towards each other, I don’t try to fix it. I’ll save my energy for the rest of the trip, while in Seokjin’s presence. 

We check in, and pay our own separate ways. A two hundred dollar expense that I wasn’t expecting to pay, but because it’s so last minute the prices for just one night were high. 

“Heres your key cards. Hope you enjoy your stay.” The receptionist has a small smile and ushers us along. We aren’t the only people checking in.

I finally break the silence. “I think my room is in the other direction…” I announce and he looks back at me with a curt nod. 

“Well if you need anything you have my number.” He says before turning around. “Be safe.” is barely heard as I turn around too. I don’t mutter ‘you too’ back because he’s already walking off. 

As I walk off towards my room I let out a deep breath of relief. Glad that the silence wasn’t forced anymore. I seriously don’t know what Jin was thinking. A week trip with just the three of us? It is going to suck, and probably for all of us. Maybe that’s why Jin’s destination is Greece, a place we could try and relax amongst agonizing company. Jin’s trying at least and, since he cares so much I’ll put in my effort. Or at least try to. 

I text Jin that we finally got to a hotel and that I would message him before our flight tomorrow. He responds with a smiley and a goodnight. I smile, hoping that he was having a good night too.

By the time I get to my hotel room I am giddy with the idea of jumping in bed. My arm is tired from dragging my suitcase and my back hurts from the airplane seats. Not to mention my aching brain from the practically pointless conversations with Jungkook. Seriously did he not even care to at least make some small talk? He spoke things of such little importance. ‘You look great’ He could have asked some questions about how I was doing or something worth conversation. Or at least make it genuine. However, would it have been worse to hear him speak more? 

I pull the card up against the slot, a beep and then a red light blinking. Red is never a good sign. And what do you know the door doesn’t unlock. What a joke. I look down at my stuff debating whether to leave it by the door or take it all the way back to the lobby with me. Then I decide that leaving everything on my person in a foreign country is stupid and I pull the luggage back. 

“Hi what can I help you with?” It’s a different attendant this time, and I slide the card to them 

“Hi, um I’m in room 128 and my key wont work.” 

They nod a few times, taking the key and inserting it somewhere. She types up some things on the computer and then. “Mr Hamira?”

I shake my head. “No it should be under Ha, Ha Eunjae” They seem confused and double check. They shake their head. 

“I’m sorry we…” they purse their lips, typing in something else. “I’m sorry one moment.” So I stand there wondering if the earlier receptionist was wrong. There weren't two rooms, and instead had given me a room that someone else was in. Fuck I hope not. 

“Well, you’re name is there. I have your receipt here… but someone else already has this booked out as well…” I swallow. Damnit. I nod. “Are you sure?”

They frown and then reach for the phone. “I’ll call the room to see if anyone is in it.” So she dials it up and a moment later an answer. My heart drops. I’ll have to find another room? And if they don’t have one? Then I’d call another hotel. I don’t want to think about what I would do if there aren’t any open hotels for the night. Why’s it so damn busy at this hotel? “Sorry sir for waking you, we just wanted to check…” I open my phone googling a nearby hotel. “Is there any other rooms?”

The receptionist puts the phone down shaking her head. “Not tonight I’m afraid. I’m so sorry, do you remember the name of the person who sold you this room?” I shake my head, not really caring for them to get reprimanded. “I will refund your money right now.”  I bite my lip. Damn, what was I going to do?

“Okay.” I mutter dialing the phone to the next closest hotel. They answer but no good news, they were booked out for the rest of the week. 

“We have a festival going on nearby that’s why.” She frowns, “I’m sorry…”

I don’t really care, it’s not her fault, but as I call the next hotel and the next and the next all within an hours radius I realize there’s no hope. I could travel the two hours to the next hotel but… I find myself seated in the lobby head pressed against my suitcase. I feel like throwing up, crying and screaming all simultaneously. 

Jin crosses my mind and for a moment I think about calling him, but I decide not to bother him. It is my own problem to deal with. Though I can imagine him saying something like “your problems are mine and vice versa.” Blah blah, he cares too much. I frown, thinking about how bad the trip is going to be. I wonder if Jin dreads it as much as me. Does Jungkook dread hanging out with me as much as I do him? He must. After all he thinks that ‘I’m a stuck up cunt’ and many other things I don’t feel like replaying. I frown, how misogynistic and cruel. But I don’t linger on his past words and instead his most recent flutter into my thoughts. 

Well if you need anything you have my number.

So because I have no other ideas, I pull open my phone and search him up. There was nothing.

Fuck. Of course not, I never saved his number. I hate his guts. For a moment I hate my own guts. How stupid could I be, not saving his number? Any number of emergencies could have occurred where I might need to contact him. 

I cave, realizing who I need to ask, and open our text messages.

‘you’re really asking for his number’

‘yes dont ask i just rlly need it oki???’

‘mhm, why don’t you ask him yourself ;)’

‘jin give me his number’

I roll my eyes, but another text comes and it's a phone number. I stare at it for a moment. Do I text or call? And then I think about doing neither, I could just bear with the two hour drive. I close the message. Honestly getting a cab for two hours would be expensive. But not more expensive than the time I’ll be stuck with Jungkook. Plus I’ll have to sleep on the floor. It would be rude to ask to take the bed… Fuck. 

So I call a cab, the line ringing and my head buzzing with regret. How expensive would this ride be? Not to mention I’d have to get another cab back to the airport tomorrow? My teeth tear into the skin in my mouth, this time the taste of iron filling at my tongue. 

“What are you doing out here?” I jump at the sound of his voice, turning to see Jungkook standing with his wallet in hand. 

I don’t know how to explain but settle with “They sold me a room they don't have.”I stutter thinking how stupid I must look still sitting in the lobby with all my stuff. I was sure to look a mess, almost crying. He looks over to the receptionist who is speaking to someone else. I look at the clock on my phone, still waiting for an answer. It is almost eleven. 

“Is there another hotel?” He mutters not even looking back at me. 

“No, well. There is one but it’s two hours away.” 

His eyes widen as he opens his wallet. “Seriously?”

“I wouldn’t be joking.” I say, my voice raising. I am not in the mood right now. He doesn’t respond. “I’m trying to call a cab.” I take the phone away from my ear as it goes to voice mail. The message is in a language I don’t know. “Fuck.” I hang up. Putting my phone on my lap.

“Did you already rent a room at the other hotel?” He asks, looking longingly to the vending machines. 

My jaw clenches. “No.” I spit at him, “They won’t fucking take my money over the phone, because of this damn.” I choke, “This.. Damn festival.” I sniff, pressing my hands against my cheeks that were now rosy and warm. 

“What kind of festival?” 

I blink, a tear falling from my eye. “I don’t fucking know.” I almost yell, the receptionist looking over. A few more tears drip down my cheeks. I wipe them hastily away. 

Jungkook takes a seat next to me. “I’m sorry… I didn’t ask to piss you off..” he sighs, “I wasn’t thinking.” he presses his lips together looking anywhere but me, “you’re not going anywhere, that’s stupid.” I wipe away more stupid tears as he continues. “It’s just one night you can come to my room…” He sighs, eyes falling to his hands. 

“Really?” I sniff.

He glares at me even though I was really asking. “Yeah don’t ask again or your calling that cab.”

My smile is small while I stand with him, awkwardly following him to the vending machines and watching as he glanced over his options. He finally just chose a water bottle and some m and ms. 

“Do you want anything?” He asks me, and I shake my head softly. Still a foggy mind from the anxiety attack I narrowly dodged.

He buys another water and hands it to me. We quietly walk back towards his room. The receptionist was staring, probably conjuring what kind of person would pick a stranger to stay in their hotel room. Little does she know, we actually know each other.

As we got to his room and he taps the key on the door, I will myself to speak again. “you didn’t have to…” but I only mumble the words.

He pops a chocolate in his mouth and looks down at me. “What? It’s just water.”

“No…” I frown as he kicks open the door. “letting me stay with you.” 

He shrugs as we enter the hotel room. “I said don’t mention it, otherwise you’re back on the street.” Despite sounding serious I can tell that he’s not. I shuffle to the side of the room leaving my suitcase on the side. 

“I can sleep on the floor…” 

“Ew what? No, that's disgusting.” He shakes his head, and unzips his suitcase. He stands there a moment before pulling out some clothes. I stand there idle as he walks around me, closing himself off into the bathroom. 

He is right, that is gross. But I don’t want to take his bed? Would he sleep on the floor? How annoying, I know that if it were the other way around I’d be pissed. I should have just gotten the other hotel. I could have napped on the drive and been fine. Although I wouldn’t want to be alone with some driver for two hours. It would probably be a man, and he might be creepy. 

“Eunjae are you okay?” Jungkook has come out in sweats and a tshirt. I stare at him a second, but not for any reason other than he spoke to me.

“Oh, yeah.” I realize I’ve been standing in the same place since I got in the room and so I decide that I’ll follow in his footsteps, taking out a pair of shorts and a tshirt I had packed for pajamas. 

He squints at me, walking around back to the other side of the room. “You’re being weird…” 

“Sorry.” I mutter going into the bathroom to change. Although I knew I would look tired, when I found myself in the mirror I looked worse than I thought. My eyes are red and puffy from fatigue as well as crying. I roll my eyes at myself. It was a stupid reason to cry. I try not to think about the day that had gone wrong so I distract myself by changing. It is in the past now so it doesn’t really matter. But still, I don’t want to be on another flight tomorrow and I don’t want to be in this room, but I don’t want to be anywhere else either. I just want to be in Greece already. Drinking and sitting on the beach with Jin. 

After changing I brush my teeth and wash my face. I am ready to pass out. I come back out to the room and Jungkook is playing some videos on his phone. He is laid out on the left side of the bed, already under the covers. Two pillows separate the two sides of the bed. It is only a queen sized bed, and Jungkook isn’t small so there is only just enough space for me.

“What?” He glares at me. And it bothers me because I’ve done absolutely nothing to him. 

“N-nothing.” I say, plugging my phone in and stepping to the bed. Really I never did anything to him the entire time we had known each other. And yet he is such an asshole. I take a seat, but really I don’t want to get in the bed. It’s weird. 

I hear Jungkook sigh as I stare at my phone. “We aren’t twelve you know.”

“I am aware Jungkook. That doesn’t mean I want to sleep in the same bed as you.” I shoot, back to my regular self.

He huffs, “For one night only. You’ll never get the chance again.” He winks when I turn staring daggers at him. 

I ignore this and pull myself under the covers. If I ever am going to fall asleep tonight in the presence of that demon I will have to start getting comfortable now. 

We both fall into a silence. The only sounds being the rain hitting the window, the air conditioner, and the tiktoks he's scrolling through. The light is still on so I don’t close my eyes yet. Instead I think about what Jin had asked of me. He won’t want me to fake it. No fake smiles, or being a bitch back to Jungkook after he’s been an asshole. I will have to genuinely be nice to him. How can I do that when he’s only being an ass to me all time? Be honest with my feelings? Hey Jungkook, that hurt my feelings. Ha, he’ll laugh in my face and then do it again… right? 

I have never tried that before… and earlier when I had very obviously almost had a breakdown he actually apologized. I think it was genuine. I think that might have been the first time he had ever seen me cry. 

“Jungkook.” I hated myself the moment his name came out of my mouth. Why had I spoken?

He rolls over slightly as he had been facing opposite me. “What?” He sounds annoyed, rightfully so. 

I stare at the ceiling. “Why do you hate me?” And after I ask the question I bite my lip because it sounds stupid.

He scoffs, “Who told you I hated you?”

My brows furrow. “What do you mean? At the very least you dislike me highly. When have you ever shown any ounce of kindness to me?” Silence, and that sounds even more dumb because he had by letting me stay in his room “Y-you know what I mean.” I squint, realizing I am being a bitch and failing at even one step of pleasing Jin. 

“I only treat you the same way you treat me.” He states blankly, my anger immediately blowing over. 

“What?” I push myself up on one arm, Jungkook raising a brow at me. “Are you fucking joking? You’ve only ever been an asshole to me. I never did anything but deal with your shit.”

He blinks. “That’s not true.” My mouth falls open at his unwillingness to admit that he had done something wrong. “I only don’t like you because you don’t like me. No other reason.” He sits up, “You started whatever this is.” He scrunches up his face, “and don’t act like you didn’t because from the very beginning of our relationship, you acted like I didn’t exist…” 

He shakes his head, hands clenching tightly against his phone, continuing; “and everytime I came into the room you’d look at me like I was some disgusting animal and then whisper to your friends. Do you know how that makes someone feel? All I ever did was say hi and you were so fake I could feel the bitchiness radiating off you. I didn’t do anything and you treated me like shit.” He looks me over. “You were awful.”

I wish I could have interrupted his stupid speech. He really believes that I am in the wrong? Does he really have no recollection? 

“Liar.” I growl. “Don’t act like you dont know.” I sniff, “I only ignored you because you thought you had me figured out from the get go.” My frown becomes prominent and that feeling from earlier returns along with the redness in my cheeks and the water in my eyes. “You had met me one time Jungkook. One fucking time and had the nerve to assume you knew anything about me.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” He has a stupid look on his face, one that makes me even more angry.

“How can you not remember your great first impression of me Jungkook?” I feel a tear slip down my cheeks but it's more out of anger than sadness. “Eunjae seems like a pretentious cunt, I don’t know why Jin is friends with someone like that-” the tears fall freely now, “a- a whore and…” I clasp a hand over my mouth, stopping a sob. There isn’t really a point in continuing. That should refresh his memory enough. a whore and a gold digging bitch. Only friends with Jin for his money. None of which was true. Well maybe the pretentious part, only sometimes. The tears are dripping onto the sheets of the bed, embarrassing. So I push the covers off of me. 

“I-” He shakes his head, shakes and shakes. “I didn’t say that. I never said that.” But I am not listening, I stand up and walk into the bathroom, unable to hear whatever it is he’s saying. I shut the door and sit on the edge of the tub, tearing at the tissue to blow my nose. 

I had only told a few of my friends why I hated Jungkook. Only the ones that weren’t mutual with him. Even Jin always wondered. Why would I tell him that the young man he looks so highly of is a total douchebag? It only felt right to keep it to myself, I was sure, no, am sure that Jungkook had relayed that impression of me to all our friends. After all it was my friend who had told me she overheard him telling these things to Taehyung. I had met Taehyung that night and after that I thought I saw a tinge of disdain everytime we spoke. At present it is gone, but did he still sometimes agree? Does he think I am a whore? Do Namjoon or Yoongi think I am a golddigger? I am sure Jungkook thinks those things all of the time. Because he has always been an asshole. Always.

There is a knock at the front door, which I hear Jungkook answer. The door opens and I wondered what it is. It shuts again a moment later. Maybe Jungkook left. After gaining my bearings I rinse off my face and go to open the door. How am I meant to stay here after that?

Jungkook is standing across from the door, “There was a noise complaint.” He spoke quietly, scratching the back of his neck. I don’t respond, only try to walk past him back to the bed. “Eunjae, I never said that.” I close my eyes not really wanting to hear it. “I swear to you, I never said that.”

I pout, looking up at him, barely whispering. “I don’t believe you.”

“I- I really didn’t. I don’t know how to prove to you I didn’t. Why would I? I never have thought those things about you. I really would never say those things.” He stutters a few times and then gets annoyed. “Who told you I said that?”

I clench my teeth, “P-Park Iseul.” 

He looks defeated, “I- I don’t even know who that is…”

He can’t defend himself which is enough for me. “You said all those things about me, to Tae…”

“No Jae… listen.” I scoff, “Really gonna try using a nickname on me now? You’re really-”

“Eunjae, I’m sorry.” He’s holding back his annoyance with me, “Why don’t you ask Tae then? Mhm?” He purses his lips, “I have never lied to you. Have I?” And I think for a moment. I can’t recollect a time when he had lied, but I’m sure there had to be at least one. “I didn’t say those things about you. In fact I thought you were really cool. Whoever may have said those things really is an asshole and they're wrong.” He flicks his hands up, “But it wasn’t me.”

“Then- then why have you been so mean to me?” Is all I could manage. At this point I’m not sure whether I believe him or not. This whole time of thinking that he had said those things only to be wrong? 

“I told you. You made me feel like I was a parasite. Like I didn’t belong. I’ve been wondering why you’ve hated me for years, and figured that there was just something wrong with me.” 

My frown is stuck to my face. I never wanted him to feel that way. No, I did, but only because he made me feel the same way. Because he is evil. But if that isn’t true and he never had been evil in the first place, then it was I who had been the evil one. 

“I’m sorry.” I say softly, “I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head, his hair falling into his face, “I’m sorry too.” However, if he is telling the truth then there is no real reason for him to apologize. I had thought that Jungkook was reigning terror over me the whole time I had known him but it had actually been the other way around. I am the bitch he thinks I am. 

“No really.” I wish I had grabbed a few more tissues because my eyes are leaking again, “I’m so sorry. I’ve been so mean.” He doesn’t say anything. “I really thought that-”

“It’s okay.” He sighs, leaning against the wall. “If it had been the other way around, I might have done the same thing.” But something tells me he wouldn’t have. Despite despising him, the years and years of being around each other I knew Jungkook fairly well. The only person he acts like this around is me, and it is all my fault. 

I fold my hands together, sniffing. “Jungkook I’m so so so sorry. I really am. I wish I could take it all back.” 

He pushes himself off of the wall. “Please, it’s fine I promise you. If you apologize again I’m making you sleep on the floor.” He walks around back to the bed. “I wish I could take it back too, but it’s just the past.” He sits down. “And now we know it was a dumb miscommunication.” A miscommunication and an assumption on my part. And now I feel awful. And as if reading my mind he speaks again, “Don’t apologize again, really.”

“But I-” He shoots me a glare that stops me. 

“Eunjae, I know you’re sorry. I think I know you well enough to know now that you mean it genuinely.” Which only made me feel worse knowing that I never have truly apologized for any of the mean things I’ve said to him. I wonder how often I made him feel sad. He didn’t really show it, instead he’d shoot some sarcastic thing back at me. 

“I want to apologize for everything… anything I’ve ever said-” I continue… and he sighs. 

“Well don’t. Just pretend that we were teasing each other. Most of it was teasing anyway.” 

But he is wrong, “For you maybe. You teased me. I was just awful. I can’t imagine how you felt. I-”

“Yes you can imagine, because you felt the same way about all the things I said to you. So we’ll call it even.” He pulls the covers over himself. “Now let's forget about it and sleep. It's already midnight.” I stand in my place for a moment, before admitting defeat and going back to bed. After pulling the covers up to my shoulders, Jungkook switches off the last light, the whole room going dark as well as silent. The patter of rain on the window lulls me to fatigue but my brain doesn’t want to stop churning. Eventually my thoughts calm themselves and I’m able to fall asleep. 

~

It was an awkward morning. Both of us were quiet as we tiptoed around each other, getting ready to head back to the airport. Showered, and freshened up for another 5 hour flight. We had slept in but still were tired, and my back still ached. There were almost six hours till our flight but checkout was at 11 and it was 10:45. I was hungry the last meal I had was back in Korea, and last night I hadn’t even thought about eating. We would hopefully pick up something on the way. 

“Do you want to eat?” Jungkook asks as he gives the attendant his keycard. “I’m starving.”

It was the first thing he had said that morning and it felt weird. Our conversation from last night had ended abruptly. At least to me it had. There was so much left unsaid. I wanted to apologize again, in a moment where we were not in the heat of the moment. A real apology. 

“Me too.” I say, and I try to smile. “We could go through the drive through with an uber?”

So that’s what we did. A quick sandwich place where the food was cheap and easy. The driver allowed us to eat in the car as long as we didn’t make a mess. The drive to the airport took longer than expected. There was traffic from the event the attendant spoke of last night, but thankfully the driver played music as Jungkook wasn’t talking much. What was he thinking? 

He was probably thinking about how much he hated airport security. At least that was what I was thinking as we made our way through the airport. Conversation was the last thing on my mind while I walked through the metal detectors. By the time we were set free by the employees and back around to our new gate it was 1pm with four hours to kill. 

“What do you think Jin is doing right now?” I spoke to him for the first time in what might have been an hour of waiting. Now we are sitting together on a bench, with several other passengers. It's not like we have much else to do. I can at least try to kill the awkward with conversation. 

He sighs, “Probably eating a five star lunch with a view of the beach…” He leans back against the chair, stretching his neck, and pushing his hair back. He closes his eyes, and takes a deep breath. His chest rising and falling softly. I look away and think back to Jin. 

“I wish…” I pull out my phone, he is probably wondering what we are doing too. I dial his number, looking away from Jungkook. 

He answers almost right away. “Hey Jinnie….”

“Hey are you at the airport?” He sounds more cheerful than he was last night. He is just as excited as we are that we’ll finally be in Greece with him. 

“Yup, still got a while to wait though.” I say frowning, looking at the clock. “We are just sitting here… waiting. Waiting. Waiting.”

“Yeah. I’m sorry…” He sighs and then mumbles to someone off the phone. “I can't wait to see you… In like eight hours…”

I shake my head… “It’ll be late then, you should sleep.” He shouldn’t wait for us. It’s not like we are alone. We’ll be able to find our way to the hotel with eachothers help. I glance to Jungkook who looks like he could be asleep. His lashes were quite long. Just as long as mine, how unfair. He had such a pretty face. 

“No, no it sucks that you guys got stuck and I want to meet you there. Don’t need you getting lost.” And I smile at this. He’s always like this. Caring for others. It sucks even more that he is alone though. Is Jungkook asleep? That same soft rise and fall of his chest. No he isn’t, His thumbs twiddle with the tag on his luggage. 

“Alright… Then I’ll see you in eight hours… try and save doing the fun stuff with Jungkook and I. I think I have severe FOMO.” I laugh, picking at my fingers. I was a patient person but god this is a long time to wait.

“Me too.” Jungkook huffs, not opening his eyes “What’s he eating? How’s the food?” He groans, “I wanna be there and not here.”

I relay Jungkook's questions which Jin happily answers. “Oh you will love it. Everything is delicious. I don’t want to stop eating. It's so good.”

I smile, barely holding back my anticipation. “We can’t wait to be there.”

For a moment he’s quiet, “You’ve sounded weird… What happened? Did you guys argue or something?” He sighs, “Why am I even asking of course you argued.”

“What?” I purse my lips together. How’d he figure that out so easily? Am I that easy to read? Did I really say something that made it obvious? I didn’t think so. “What do you mean?”

“You’re being suspicious. What happened?” 

 I frown. What does he mean? Am I really being suspicious… No. “You’re suspicious… When do we not…” I look at Jungkook who’s still not paying attention. “seriously? When has there ever been a time where we didn’t…” I avoid saying the word fight. I don’t want Jungkook to know that we are talking about him.

“Well I asked you not to.” I can just see him crossing his arms, The way his voice has sped up, of course he's upset.  “Man I can't handle this, if you guys are going to hate each other the whole trip. Seriously you can’t suck it up and have a good time? Once? Literally that’s all I’m asking is for this one time…”

I clench my phone tighter, “Jin. To be honest you’re a liar.” I try to speak in a cool tone, still not wanting Jungkook to be paying me any mind. “One time? really? No it’s been the whole time, all the times. Fuck.” I take a deep breath. “What about what I asked of you? Mhm? Yeah you didn’t listen to that.”

“Well I’m older than you so…”

“It doesn’t matter anyway because nothing happened anyways, Well, nothing like usual so you can keep your assumptions to yourself. Bye I’ll see you in Greece.” I hung up the phone.

“So what was it that you asked of him?” I look over to Jungkook who’s staring down at me. I blink, why was he eavesdropping? I am a fool to think he wasn’t paying attention. “You know you’re sitting right next to me and it’s not like Iphone speakers are very quiet. So what was it that you asked of him?” He crosses his arms, an eyebrow raised. 

“It doesn’t really matter, does it?” I lean back in my chair, “it was before we figured out it was a misunderstanding.”

“I still want to know.” He’s acting like a child. 

“Really? Why? We’ve already spent all day in silence and I’d rather you not hate me again.”

“We already covered that I never hated you in the first place.”

“Really Jungkook?” I roll my eyes. “Plus you’re the one who wanted to stop talking about it? So why are you asking now?”

He shrugs. “I wanna know.” A short breath comes from my nose while I contemplate what to tell him. It was cruel now in hindsight. But it was genuinely how I felt at the time. 

I shake my head , “I asked him to make sure I never saw you again.” I almost laugh cause it sounds so stupid. “Like, literally all the time I used to ask that, but a few months ago I genuinely asked him to stop inviting me if you were going to be there. And that’s when he planned this trip. One last big event before I boycotted you.” He stares at me, “Does that make you feel better?” I grind my teeth. “Not that you probably didn’t feel the same way.”

His eyes fell to the floor, his face softening. “Sorry.”

I squint, looking him over. “Why are you apologizing? I’m the one who’s being a bitch… again.”

His eyes roll over to me. “No, I’m sorry for making you feel like you couldn’t hang out with your best friend.” He frowns, brows furrowed as he contemplates what to say. “That sucks”

“I’m sure you felt the same way…”

He shakes his head. “Not really. So, I’m sorry.” His eyes haven't left mine, and it’s making me uncomfortable. 

“I-If I can’t apologize.” I swallow, sitting back in my seat, avoiding that burning eye contact. “Then neither can you.” 

“I don’t think I did last night, so I-” he folds his hands together. “I’m really sorry for e-”

“No. You did apologize, so no more apologizing.” I pull out my headphones, “I forgive you so it’s fine.” And I plug them into my phone, shutting him out. 

He blinks, shaking his head and turning away from me. Doing whatever. While I sit here and wait. 

~

“Hey, we are boarding.” I blink, waking to Jungkook shaking my shoulder lightly. I yawn, grateful that I had managed some sleep, but knowing that I’d regret it on the plane ride. Planes are so awfully uncomfortable. We board slowly, waiting in line behind other people. I should have grabbed a coffee before we boarded, because now I feel so groggy. But maybe I would manage to fall back asleep. Four hours would be awfully boring if I didn’t. I guess I did download those movies though. 

“Do you want the aisle seat?” He asks as we scoot down the aisle. I shrug as we reach our seats. We couldn’t get an outside seat, so we are stuck in the middle aisle. “It doesn’t really matter to me.” He mutters, reaching up and sticking his bag in the overhead storage. 

“You’re taller, and wider.” I smile. “It’s fine I’ll take the middle.” He grins, “Who ever could have thought you could actually be nice to me.”

“I’m just being considerate.” I mutter, pushing my extra stuff into the storage as well. 

He squeezes past me, “Well so am I.” He takes the seat over, some guy already in the other seat. I squint, wondering if he’s being considerate or petty just to keep me from being nice. Or am I being petty too? 

I take my seat anyways, turning my phone onto airplane mode as the attendants go through the safety briefings. “But are you going to have to go to the bathroom?” 

He shakes his head, pulling his hoodie over his head. “Nope, I’ve got a strong bladder.” 

I take the hoodie as a sign he no longer wants to talk so I plug in my headphones and press on the horror movie I downloaded and brace myself for takeoff. 

Halfway through the flight I notice that Jungkook was asleep. It had taken him a little while, likely because of the uncomfortable seat. Or the random stranger that is sitting next to him and their loud chewing. Or that he is in a hoodie and it is really hot. 

Earlier in the flight I could tell he wanted to take it off, but for the sake of not bothering other people he left it on. For a while he watched an anime, but now he is sleeping. 

His hair is in his face, his breath hitting one strand that flutteres over his lips. I feel like waking him up as he is about to be leaning on the random stranger, but that feels wrong. He is really peaceful when he sleeps. Those same pretty lashes resting over his cheeks. 

The strings of a sharp violin jump up in my ear, making me jump and look back to my screen. I take a deep breath. What am I doing? I pause the movie. Maybe I can try and sleep too. I close my eyes, tucking my phone into my pocket. Ignoring whatever that was.

~

“Sorry, excuse me.” I open my eyes, Jungkook standing and attempting to squeeze between me and the chair. He’s got his sleeves rolled up, his tattooed arm reaching over my head. I furrow my brows, trying to press myself against the chair and out of his way. 

He had taken off his hoodie now, a tight button up shirt that fit around his muscles very nicely. Why would he wear that under a hoodie?

“You look very beautiful.” My eyes scrunch up as I glare at him. Is he being sarcastic? What a weird comment to make? “No really. I mean it.” 

I blush, why’s he saying this? On the airplane? While he’s hovering over all sexy like? What the fuck?

“Can I kiss you?” I stare at him, hands clenching the sides of my seat. What does he mean? I look over to the stranger who is surely as uncomfortable as me, but he is gone, as are all of the other passengers. It is just me and Jungkook. 

I flinch upon his hand at my cheek. “I asked you a question…” he smirks, my heart skipping a beat. 

I shake my head. “No, Jungkook? What the fuck?” I push him off.

“What the fuck? What’s that for?” I blink, seeing Jungkook still over me, back in his hoodie, the stranger sitting next to us staring. I look around, a couple of eyes staring at me. “I’m trying to go to the bathroom.”

I try to collect myself, was it a dream? I look up, catching Jungkook’s glare. “I’m sorry I-” He scoots out of the aisle. “I had a- a bad dream.” He looks at me in confusion before turning his head and heading down towards the bathroom. I sigh checking the time. So I managed to fall asleep… There is about thirty minutes of the flight left. What a relief. I pull the movie back out and decide the time will go by faster that way. Jungkook returns in no time, scooting back to his seat.

“So what kinda bad dream was it?” I turn my head to him, “You were pushing me pretty violently. Something traumatic happen to you that I should know about?”

I laugh light heartedly to hide my anxiety. To be honest or not? “Uh…”

Jungkook turns his eyes to slits, staring intently with a horrid grin. “You said my name. Ring any bells?”

I blink, “I- well. You tried to kiss me.” He laughs at this. 

“Really? And it was that bad?” He crosses his arms. “I mean damn you really shoved me into the chair of the person in front of you. It was that bad?” He teases. 

My mouth falls open, void of speech for a moment. “It’s awkward… It was weird.” I cover my face. “Wouldn’t it be weird if you had a dream where I tried to kiss you?” 

He ponders this for a moment, “You know… I think I’d let you.” He smirks, “Why not?”

“What do you mean why not?” I lean over, trying to maintain my whisper voice, I had already drawn too much attention to myself. “Thats-”

He shrugs, “It’s not like it’s real. No big deal.” He looks at me, expecting an answer. 

I fall back into my chair, “Well it felt pretty real so-” I fiddle with my shirt. “It’s not like you would know if it was real or not in the dream.”

“I guess you’re right.” He glances at his phone, the clock ticking oh so slow. He doesn’t say anything more. Leaving me wondering. Would he still let me? Why was that even a question in my mind? I press play on my movie, hoping for it to distract me. 

The plane lands and it’s extremely dark outside, the city lights blinking around us. Now that we finally landed I was feeling giddy, excited not only to be there but also to see Jin. 

The airport this time around was a lot harder to get around. Our baggage claim took twenty minutes in itself, poor Jin texting me from outside. But we were on our way out, needing to stretch and get some fresh uncirculated air. 

“Hey!” I look up seeing Jin waiting for us with an Uber. “Welcome to Athens!” He stretches out his arms, me rushing to be the first to greet him. 

“Jinniaahh.” I embrace him, missing his bear hugs. I reluctantly let go, giving Jungkook his turn as well. 

“How was the flight here? Not considering the fact that it wasn’t the original one you were meant to take.”

Jungkook beats me to an answer, “It was good aside from the fact that Eunjae tried to claim I assaulted her.” 

“No I-”

“It was embarrassing, everyone was staring.” He giggles, looking at me with a smile, and it isn’t meant to be conniving. He is only teasing.

I try to loosen up, not expecting him to be teasing so light-heartedly. He isn’t trying to be mean this time. Would I have to remind myself of that everytime he speaks? I smile, “Yeah it was embarrassing for me to.” I elbow him. “Everyone really was staring.” I pout at Jin, “I felt really bad.” 

“Did you now?” Jungkook’s lips curl to one side. “Can we get coffee?”

“Coffee?” I look at the clock, “Are you crazy? It’s almost two in the morning.” 

Jin looks at both of us, “What’s going on? Is this playful banter? Are you playing a prank on me?” 

I look at him, “What’s wrong with playful banter?” I tease Seokjin, “Isn’t it everything you ever wanted?” The uber driver helps us get our luggage into the trunk.

Jin glares at me, holding the door open for me. “I-”

“Everything you ever wanted.” Jungkook winks at him, getting in on the other side. 

Jin gets in the front seat, all of us in the car now. “Now I really think you’re faking it…”

I roll my eyes, turning an air conditioning nozzle towards me. “No Jinnie, just teasing you.” He hums and I can tell he’s not fully convinced. Not that I’m all that convinced either. 

We get to the airbnb by two thirty, and Jin is ready to pass out. Jungkook and I however are pumped, finally out of the plane and ready to explore Athens, it is a shame that we arrived so late. Here's to hoping that our jet lag won't ruin the day tomorrow. 

We pull our luggage into the little house and Jungkook and I are wide eyed. It is really nice, and I am sure it has to have five stars and incredible reviews. It is an open concept, the kitchen, dining, and living room are all connected, stairs at the door leading up to the three bedrooms. 

“Thank god we don’t have to share a bed.” Jungkook says, starting up the stairs with a smile. I shake my head pulling in my suitcase behind me. Not only is the inside open, but it is a full fishbowl style, all the windows open towards the city below. We’re up on a hill, trees surrounding the rest of the house for moderate privacy. But the view is beautiful. I wonder what it will look like at sunrise or sunset. 

“You guys shared a bed?” Jin asks curiously, opening up the fridge where he pulls out a water, tossing it to me and taking out another for himself. 

“Yeah… Was kinda weird. But there was only one room in the hotel we were at. Very very unfortunate.” I huff, “But I guess Jungkook didn’t have to let me stay with him. It was better than being on the street.” I laugh. 

“Mhm, is this why you’re being all buddy buddy?” He crosses his arms, taking a sip of his water. 

I shrug, opening up my own bottle. “I guess you could say that. I don’t know, we resolved some things.” 

“Well that’s a relief…” He sighs, “Why was it that you didn’t like him anyways?” 

I look at the ground. “It was dumb really… I’m sorry Jin.”

“No no, It’s fine. I’m just happy you guys can be civil.”

I nod, “Yeah…” Civil. I still feel awful about it. Jungkook really had done nothing after all. He said it himself: We can pretend that we were teasing each other. Had he been teasing me? Playful banter that I returned with malice. 

“You good?” I blink, Jin is still standing in the kitchen. 

“Yeah… I’m going to try to sleep.” I hike up the stairs, luggage in hand. 

“Goodluck,” He says following, and dipping into a far bedroom. 

I sigh, I will need that luck. Jet lag, and not to mention the fact that I already slept on the plane. It would probably not be a successful night's sleep. Both doors of the other rooms are closed, nice; Jungkook couldn’t have left me a clue to which room he had taken?

I knock on the door, and wait for anything. No sound so I open the door, peering inside. With a sigh of relief I walk inside. Tugging in the luggage after me. The bed looks so comfortable and suddenly the energy I thought I had was gone. 

“I claim this room.” I turn around, Jungkook barging in from behind with his suitcases in tow. I'm speechless as he hops onto the bed. 

“I was here first.” I look back out the door, wondering what is so wrong with the other room that he abandoned it. 

He raises his brows, looking over from the bed, “Well you didn’t claim it… I did.” 

“That’s childish.” I look around, deciding the other room won’t be that bad. “And I’m not so…” I walk out the door so I can take the other room.

“You are childish.” He nags. “Hey, close the door.” To which I ignore him and move on to my room. Which, like I thought, isn’t that much different than the other one. I check the bathroom though, which doesn’t have a shower. I sigh, so that’s why Jungkook must have taken the other one. It’s not like he can stop me from using his, unless he wants me to smell bad. Maybe Jin’s room has a shower too. 

I unpack a little into the small chest of drawers in the room, and plug in my phone. I make sure I have everything in order for tomorrow. What is it that we were doing tomorrow anyway? 

The first day on our itinerary had been ruined by the unforeseen storm in Georgia, but it’s not like it was strict. We could go to so many different museums or historical sites. Hopefully the other two will be just as interested in those as me. Too bad our other friend Joon didn’t come along. He’d love the art. 

Looking at the clock I decide it’s time for bed. I shut out my lights and tuck myself in. I knew it wouldn’t be easy, but falling asleep is particularly tricky. What time were we waking up? Should I go ask Jin? No, he might have already fallen asleep. Surely we would sleep in? Jungkook might complain about going straight to the museums instead of something more exciting. What is it that he wants to do again? Surfing, oh yeah. But surely not on our first day after a tiring flight. 

I fluff the pillow that is already too hot. My back hurts from the flight and the bed isn’t proving to be as comfortable as I thought it would be. I wonder if the other bed is more comfy. Why’d Jungkook have to go right ahead and take it from me? He’d probably sleep in later than me too. What if Jin’s bathroom didn't have a shower and we both had to use the one in Jungkook’s room? Surely that would be absurd, Three bathrooms and one shower. No way. Not with five star reviews. There should be a shower in my bathroom too. The architect sucks. Brain shut the fuck up. I sigh into the sheets. They smell good. At least I can be sure that they are clean. I bet the floors are clean. If there was only one bed here, we could sleep on the floor and it would be way less disgusting than that of the hotel floor.

My throat is a little dry. I push myself out of the comforter. Is the ac on or Is it my high level of activity that is making me hot? I flip on my bathroom light just to see around me. Where is the thermostat? Downstairs probably. I pick up my phone and switch my flashlight on, waltzing through the hallway and down the stairs. What a house. A chandelier's crystals glimmer from my phone’s light above the stairs. How much would it cost to live in a place like this?

I don’t consider it, it is far above my salary. The kitchen is grand, meant for entertaining, a bar overlooking the living room below. Wow I’d kill to live here, my simple apartment is half the square footage, and not a speck of glamour shines there. Unless you count the prints of someone’s art I bought off of etsy. 

I scour the kitchen cabinets, finding lots of plates and dishes for serving. Ah yes, my hands find the cups which shine the reflection of my flashlight. The fridge dispenses ice and cool water which I down quickly. I sm more parched than I thought and I refill the cup a second time. Sipping on the second one I think about the bathroom again. Childish indeed. If I were as childish as he, I would have replied. I don’t see your name on it. But I didn’t… Though it was just playful banter. Did he really see it that way? Was he teasing me all those years? Certainly he did it just to spite me. Either way, it was out of spite of my malice when he had done nothing wrong. He didn’t mean all the little things he said? Was he really just joking? I never was… God I feel awful. Maybe I can hope that he thought I was joking. Which is unlikely. 

“Is it hot in here or-” I jump at the sound of his voice, the glass slipping from my hand and onto the floor. It shatters in the dark, pieces glimmering in the light that still shine from my phone. 

“Oh my god Jungkook!” I glare at him, yelling in a whisper, hoping that the sound of glass hitting the floor hadn’t woken Jin. What is his reasoning for creeping up on me in the dark? At almost 3:30 in the morning?

“Oh my god Eunjae.” His eyes widen, “You’re bleeding.” I look down to my foot, a piece of glass lodged into the side of the sole. 

“Oh my god.” I swallow, it is bleeding. Like a lot. “Oh my god…” I feel sick, blood pooling a little under my foot, I hadn’t even felt it at first, but now I do. “Oh-”

“Don’t freak out.” he says, his voice raised from his own panic. He looks around, flipping the lightswitch and blinding both of us. “Oh my god.” He’s spinning around the room, avoiding stepping on any glass. “Where’s a broom?” He says annoyed that he can’t step any closer. 

“Oh my god. Jungkook it’s bleeding all over.” I cry, looking for a towel or something, but I can’t move anyways because little pieces of the cup are scattered over the floor. “Oh fuck.” I look up, avoiding looking at it. How big is the piece? Will it stop bleeding? Will I need stitches? How can this trip get any worse? What if this ruins it? It’s bleeding a lot, the blood sticky under my heel. It hurts so bad, the sharp feeling throbbing as blood seeps out of the wound. “Please help!” I whine and he almost growls at me, searching in an open closet. 

“I’m fucking looking.” He runs around to the downstairs bathroom, eventually coming around with a broom and a dustpan. “Pick up your foot.” I shake my head, not wanting to move it. It hurts. He looks at me, annoyed and then more gently. “Please pick up your foot so I don’t accidentally touch it.” 

I sit back on a bar stool, my foot coming off the hardwood like a sticker. My stomach churns as blood drips down my toes to the floor. Jungkook sighs, sweeping up the floor around us until no shards are seen glimmering against the lights. 

“Oh my god I’m gonna throw up.” I whine, looking anywhere but my foot. 

Jungkook frowns, “please don’t it’s just blood,” but I can tell he’s not pleased with the look of it either. He takes some paper towels and tosses them on the floor where I had left a bloody outline of my foot. He hands me a rag that’s slightly dampened from the sink. 

“What?” I look at him in horror, “You think that I’m going to touch it?”

Exasperated, he shakes his head, “Do you expect me to? No, no. This is your foot. I’m not touching your foot.” “I- I can’t.” I look down at it, feeling queasy. And I feel hot tears run down my cheeks. “Please…” 

His nose scrunches as he looks at it again, “Man you are such a crybaby.”

“Do you want to have the glass lodged in you!” I threaten, wiping away my tears. “This is your fault anyway.”

With a sigh he takes my hand, pulling up my ankle. “Just press the rag here.” He gently sets my hand at the base of my foot, soaking up any blood that was still dripping down. “You don’t have to touch the glass.” He presses my hand slightly, the sharp edge still cutting me. “Just for a second, I’m going to go look for a first aid kit. Or something.” He pushes his hair back taking a quick breath before leaving me in the kitchen. 

The glass itself doesn’t seem too long. But without knowing how much of it is in my foot, I can’t gauge if I’ll need stitches or not. It is coming up about an inch from the skin. That is pretty long right? And it’s not coming right out if I move. Fuck. What if I can’t go surfing, or swimming or walking around for long periods of time because of this? I can’t forgive myself for ruining the trip not only for myself but for the other two. I’ll just be a burden. 

Jungkook comes back with a smile, “look they actually had stuff!” A wrapping of gauze, medical tape, and some sanitary wipes were in his hands. “I didn’t think they would.” 

I feel my heart racing, blood pumping to my foot, bleeding more and more. If it keeps bleeding it would need stitches. That’s how it works, right?

“You aren’t holding it tight enough.” He scoffs, taking the rag from me, and holding my foot more firmly. 

“Ow,” I wince, wanting to yank my foot away from him. 

“You’re just letting it bleed, dummy.” He frowns looking at it, and then whines, “Why does it have to be me?” He examines the glass, “And before you say anything, yeah I know it’s because I scared you so it’s my fault.”

“Sorry.” I mumble.

“Good you should be, butterfingers.” He reaches down for the glass, making me flinch. 

“Are you taking it out?” I cry, making his shoulders drop. 

“What else is there to do?” He looks annoyed, I’m one hundred percent getting on his nerves. But it’s not my fault. What if the glass is really deep? And what if the bleeding doesn't stop? “What’s wrong?” He asks and my eyes begin to water. 

“There’s a glass in my foot.” I clench my fists. How does he not see what’s wrong?

He huffs, with a hint of amusement. “Yeah, duh. That’s why I’m going to take it out. I can tell that you aren’t okay with it and I’m just wondering why.” He tugs on another bar stool, sitting across from me, and setting my foot on his knee. “What would you rather me do?”

“I- I don’t know.” I sniff, wishing I had a tissue. “Just, what if it’s really deep? And it doesn’t stop bleeding and then we have to go to an emergency room and then I’ll need stitches. It’s four in the morning and we’ll have to wake up Jin.” I take a shaky breath. “And then the trip is ruined. Part two.” I grind my teeth together, “I don’t want to ruin the trip…” 

Jungkook shuts his eyes, “God all that anxiety is all up inside you.” He nods, patting my ankle. “Yeah that might happen… but either way we have to take out the glass to find out.” Which is nothing but a fact, but it doesn’t change the fact that I’m worried. “It’s gonna be fine, Eunjae. Things like this happen,” He smiles softly, revealing his little mole under his bottom lip. It had been hiding the majority of the trip, underneath a frown. “plus if the trip does get ruined, then you can blame it on me.” I smile through the pain, “yeah, that would make me feel better.” 

“Figured.” He turns his attention back to the glass. “Now I’m going to take it out, please don’t freak out. Look away or something.” 

I squeeze the counter bracing for the pain, “Don’t like, just rip it out.”

“Relax. I can promise you it’s going to hurt a lot more if you’re tense.” His voice is calming, even though I can tell that he's not exactly at ease himself. I take a deep breath, closing my eyes. The glass shifts as his hands take hold. I tense despite him telling me not to. It pulls out fairly quickly and I can feel a gush of blood when it’s out. Jungkook cringes, and presses the rag against it. The sting worsens, and I can feel the throbbing throughout my whole foot. 

“Is it out?” I look down seeing the glass in his hand, slick with my blood. He wraps it in paper towels and throws it out. “How big was it?” 

“Like a third of an inch in there.” He shrugs, “that wasn’t that bad was it?” He holds tightly to my foot, the blood seeping through the rag. He lifts my foot, giving it some more elevation. 

“We’ll see.” I say shakily. 

“I’d say it was worse for me, since I had to touch your foot and take the glass out.” He sticks his tongue out, “feet are gross.” 

I rest my chin on my hand, trying to not pay any attention to my foot. “Yeah they are.”

“Eunjae, will you relax?” He pokes my shin, “You’re stressing me out.” 

“Were you really teasing me the whole time?”

He rolls his head back, “I didn’t want that to be our subject change. Really?” But it’s too late because my mind has been reeling all day. I just want to apologize, even if he doesn’t want me to. 

“Because I wasn’t joking. And if you were… that’s so shitty.” I frown, “And you said, we could pretend that we had teased each other the whole time. Were you doing that already?”

He tilts his head, staring at me. “I don’t know, sometimes.” 

I pout, “I thought you were just being mean.” 

He shrugs, “I mean I wasn’t teasing you to be nice.” 

“But you were teasing!” I look at him, and catch his eyes before looking away again. “I wasn’t. I was being mean to be mean.” 

“This conversation is just going in circles, you know that right?” His hand rests on my shin, and he squeezes it softly. “You were being mean because you thought I was being mean.”

I scoff, “That wasn’t what I should have done. I should have been nice even though I thought you were bad. I should have always been nice and maybe we could have found out that it was a misunderstanding sooner…”

“Well that’s not what happened and it's too late to change it now-”

“I just feel so awful, Jungkook.” My tears are falling again. “And- and I said some horrible things about you and to you… I am just so sorry.” My hand lifts to cover my mouth. Jungkook lets out a deep sigh, his eyes staring off at nothing. “I thought we weren’t apologizing anymore?”

I speak through the tears, “I’m sorry.” 

“Eunjae…” He rolls his eyes. “Come on. You can’t feel bad for the rest of our friendship.” But couldn’t I? “We both did things we shouldn’t have and now it's over. You’ve apologized, like ten times now and I forgive you. So please let’s move on.”

“I can’t stop thinking about how mean I was-”

“Well stop thinking about it because I don’t care.” He doesn’t let me respond and moves back to my foot, uncovering the cloth. I flinch at the fabric sticking to my skin. “Sorry.” he mutters, opening the package to the sanitary wipe. “See the bleeding has already slowed. We’ll just go surfing later in the trip.” 

“How do you not care? Because I care so much… and I don’t know how to stop.” I settle my breathing, “I wish I could take it back.”

He breathes in through his nose. “I care. I just don’t care about the things you said because I know that you wish you could take it back. You would never say those things again would you?”

“No” 

“That’s all I care about. Right now. That’s what matters.” He wipes the sanitary wipe gently around the cut. “I wish I could take things back too, but I can’t and I know that so all there's left to do is watch what I say now.” Carefully he wipes over the cut itself, and I clench my jaw. “So I’m sorry for scaring you earlier, that wasn’t my intention.”

“I know-”

“Let me finish please…” He says quietly, “I am sorry for calling you butterfingers, and stealing the bedroom with the shower.”

I almost laugh, “Really? You don’t have to apologize for that...” He glares at me, but I can tell he’s trying not to smile. “I’m sorry for returning your comments with snide remarks all this time. I should have known that you took them personally.” His face falls, “No, I did know that, I just didn’t care and I should have. So I’m sorry.” He looks up at me. 

“But you didn’t do anything wrong. I shou-”

“Eunjae just let me apologize.” He whines. 

I suck it up, nodding. “I forgive you. I-”

“Good good.” He interrupts, tossing the sanitary wipes away. “We both forgive each other and now we are going to be friends?” 

“I can’t tell if that's a joke or not.” 

He smirks, “I’m being serious.” All his attention goes to wrapping my foot in gauze. It uses up the whole wrap to keep it secure on my foot, he tapes it for the final measure of security, and sits up from his seat. “It’s so late, but I’m not tired at all.” I’m not tired either and it is already 4:30. Time is going by so fast. 

“If we don’t sleep we won’t be able to wake up for tomorrow.” I say, watching as Jungkook cleans up the floor. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I wasn’t sure if I could trust you not to throw up.” The clean up is over and I get a new glass of water. “Now I can find the thermostat, I was sweating up there.” On the side of the wall by the fridge it waits for him. “Please don’t change.” The voice he uses to read the note is naggy. “It’s so hot though.”

“Just don’t wear a hoodie or sweatpants.” I mutter, helping myself stand. 

He looks offended, “What and sleep naked?” He shakes his head, turning off the kitchen light. 

“That is not what I said…” I squint. “Why do you have to be wearing such heavy things?” We make a slow trek up the stairs, Jungkook only talking to me who limps up each step. 

“Well normally I don’t really sleep with a lot of clothing on but this is not my own bed so.” 

“Just wear a shirt then…” 

“But hoodies are comfortable.” 

I smile, “yes they are.” 

“If I could I would wear hoodies all the time.”

“What about your tattoos? They would just be covered up all the time.” We finally get up the stairs, whispering as to not bother Jin. 

“Yeah that’s true, I just really think hoodies are comfortable.” 

I shake my head, “yeah I get it, but that doesn’t mean you have to burn up the whole night.” 

He fake pouts, pulling up his hoodie, “Since we can’t change the temp, I guess you’re right.” He lifts it over his head, his shirt going with it up his abs. I roll my eyes. Did he really just have to flash me? “Anyway, here.” He goes into his room for a moment, coming back with a pillow. “Here’s an extra pillow, put a couple under your foot to keep it elevated.”

I take it from him, “Yeah I know…” My lips purse together, and I glance into my room. 

“Try and get some sleep.” He smiles softly. 

“Hey Jungkook.” I breathe through my nose, and he hums. “Nevermind. It’s stupid.” My door creaks as I push it open to leave. 

“No- what?” He steps away from his room and toward me. Oh boy he’ll never let me live this down. 

“It’s humiliating -I” A blush creeps up onto my cheeks out of embarrassment. He gets closer, trying to regain eye contact. “Jungkook.” I look away. 

“Eunjae-” his fingers ghost over my chin, a hesitancy not hidden before his fingers clasp at my jaw. I swallow upon eye contact, his eyes scanning over my face. He winks, “Is this what it was like in your dream?” And then pulls away. 

“J-” my brows furrow. “Why’d you do that?” 

He raises a brow, “What were you going to ask me?” 

I shake my head. “No, no you answer me first, Why’d you do that?” 

He grins, “To tease you of course. Why else?” I glare at him, turning away. Not before he can grab my shoulder and flip me around. “No, what were you going to ask me?” 

I push him away, “No you ruined it. You’ll never know.” His face drops into annoyance. “Goodnight Jungkook.” I smile, limping backwards. 

“Eunjae I wanna know.” He whines as he always does, making me roll my eyes. “Please, I'd like to carry you around or something tomorrow… Just tell me.” He makes puppy dog eyes, hands folded together all prayer like. 

“No you’ve embarrassed me enough.” 

He groans, “I’ll buy your dinner too.” 

I sigh, that is a pretty good deal. “I was gonna ask-” My shoulders drop, and I’m not really believing that I am actually saying it outloud. “I was gonna ask if we could hug.” I glare. “There.”

He stares at me for a second. “That’s what you were going to ask me?” He looks almost amused. 

“See- I didn’t want to tell you.” I groan, my cheeks still flush. How embarrassing, why did I even say it out loud? “It’s stupid.” 

“No really- is that what you were going to ask me?” He softly chuckles, “that’s cute-” I shake my head, turning into my room. “No really Eunjae-” He stops me. “Is that really what you were going to ask?” 

“Yes!” I step backwards, my voice raised. “Why do you keep asking that? I just said it didn’t I?” Why does he have to humiliate me further? 

He sighs, “Stop doing that thing where you misunderstand me and get mad.” He steps towards me again. “You’re yelling and going to wake Jin up.” I look towards the bedroom Jin was staying in. He is right. God he is right. “Yes we can hug that’s a dumb question.” 

I frown, “It’s just- we never have before and-” 

“Yeah I know.” He smiles, pulling me into his chest before I can protest. “It’s because you are so repulsed by me.” His voice vibrates into my hair. “You didn’t even have to ask.”

I shake my head, trapped in his arms. “No I- I wasn’t” I look up at him, brows knitted together. “I’m not.” The guilt is brought back up again. I don’t want him to remember that. 

His eyes shine between those lashes, a grin plastered on his face. “Good.” his breath brushes over my face. “Cause it really sucked when I thought you did.” 

“Jungkook, I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head, “It’s okay.” His eyes fall on my lips, is he thinking of actually kissing me or is he joking again? I blink, my eyes dropping to his chin. I could hug him tighter and say goodnight and then it would be over. 

But his thumb drags against my cheek, pulling my eyes back up to his. Agonizingly slow, his head tilts to the side, his hair falling over his face. That tattooed hand sits against my back, holding me in his embrace. His heart is beating really fast, but it matches my own. Would he notice that? He takes a long deep breath, pressing his forehead against mine, my heart skipping a beat. Why isn’t he doing anything? Only his eye contact is consistent. I bite my gums, wanting to look away. 

“I just want you to know that this time I’m not fucking around.” He whispers, leaning into my lips. His hand snakes around my neck, pulling me closer. His nose squishes against mine, lips soft and warm. The kiss I had missed in my dream. In an exhale he releases me from his tattooed arm. His eyes scan mine for a reaction. 

I didn’t know what to say. “Good” is what comes from my mouth. Another dumb thing out of my lips. “I- I meant”

He laughs, “Thanks” he pinches my neck making me shrug away. Jungkook's lips meet my cheek. 

“No I meant-” He shuts me up with another kiss, pulling me closer by my waist. 

“Better than in your dream?” He smirks, eyeing me up and down. 

“I meant that it’s-” Another kiss, his hand at the base of my neck, the other at my waist. He doesn’t let go so quickly this time. He smiles into the kiss. “Jungkook…”

“Okay,” he looks down at me, “go on.” 

“I meant that it’s good that you aren’t fucking around.” I sigh, finally getting to breathe as well as speak. “I- why?”

“Why not?” 

“I-”

He ruffles my hair, making me blush again. “I told you: I thought you were really cool. Mhmh. I do think that you’re really cool.” 

“I didn’t think that was code for you wanting to kiss me.” 

“You’re the one who had a dream about it.” he teases, “Now go to sleep, we’ve got a long day ahead of us tomorrow.” 

The next day:

“God did you guys like fuck last night?” Jin looks disgusted at the two of us. I choke on my orange juice. Looking wildly between the two of them. 

“Where the hell did you get that idea?” I say staring deep into my breakfast. Did he have to make it more awkward? I barely even knew what to do next after last night. What was that? Are we going to date? Is it going to be casual? Will it never happen again? 

Jin squints, “Well, the tension in the room. I’m used to it with you too. But DAMN, it's never been so sexual.” 

Jungkook snickers, swirling around his drink “No. No we did not. Just first base.” He winks and my mouth drops. 

“Jungkook!” I throw a piece of toast at him, he really is going to expose us just like that?

He flinches, smiling. “I’m actually not sure what the bases are…” 

Jin runs his hand through his hair, “I don’t know what’s going on anymore.”

“Good.” I huff, biting into my breakfast. “All you need to know is the directions to the Acropolis.”

~

Like this? This is a one shot from my A Year of Fics with Han series found

here

Happy Jungkook day everyone !! :P

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y’all pls follow me 😭 i’m posting for joons bday as well and then i’m in a fest rn for bts abyss fest which will be on ao3!!

#bts #bts edit #bts fanfiction #bts ff #bts au #angst #fluff #bts angst #bts fluff #bts smut #jeon jungkook #jjk #jungkook #kim namjoon #namjoon #knj #kim seokjin #seokjin #jin #ksj #jjk x oc #min yoongi #yoongi #suga #agustd #myg #jung hoseok #hoseok #hobi #jhope

[agustdakasuga]

A Place Called Home | Chapter 2

Genre: Hybrid!AU, Poly!AU?, Soulmate AU, romance, fluff, humour

Pairing: OT7 x Reader

Characters: vet!reader, Arcticfox!Seokjin, Panther!Yoongi, Goldenretriever!Hoseok, Wolf!Namjoon, Calicocat!Jimin, Tiger!Taehyung, Rabbit!Jungkook

Summary: Having saved your own injured hybrid, you were determined to try and help any other hybrid that crossed your path who needed saving. But being a vet in a small hospital wasn’t enough for you. You wanted to do more, you wanted to make a difference. You wanted to give them a home.

Yoongi has been acting weird since you came back from the hospital but he refuses to tell you anything, not wanting to worry or burden you anymore. You and him go visit someone and you can only hope that the person can cheer Yoongi up. 

“Kitten, how many snacks do you want to get?” Yoongi raised an eyebrow, chuckling in amusement. You blinked at him, multiple bags of snacks all piled up in your arms. 

“He likes snacks.” You said. 

“You’re unbelievable. Let me help you.” He took the bags from you, placing them in the basket that he got. You grinned happily and held hands with him as you headed to the cashier. There were still laws that prevented hybrids from having credit cards, which you felt was absolutely ridiculous. So created a card under your name for a joint account with Yoongi.

“Here.” You handed the cashier your card. He nodded, beginning to scan the items. Through all this, he kept a wary gaze on Yoongi. Yoongi didn’t really care as he yawned, rubbing his eye.

“Is something the problem?” You snapped. 

“N-No! Sorry.” The cashier, shocked by your sudden call out, sped up the packing. You and Yoongi grabbed the bags and went to the car. You slammed the trunk down. 

“Woah, put your claws back kitten.” Yoongi teased. 

“Did you see the way he was looking at you? As if you were going to attack him or something. All you did was stand there and yawn. How was that threatening?” You growled in anger. Looking at you, Yoongi could smell your anger to know that you weren’t joking but he still couldn’t help but laugh. 

“What?” You glared at him.

“Kitten, you’re the most amusing human I have ever met. I wasn’t even affected by him, I didn’t care. And here you are, getting all angry in the parking lot.” He continued to laugh at you while you scoffed. 

“Well, I’m glad my anger amuses you.” You started the car. 

“Oh, it does.” He nodded and you threatened to sock him. You began to drive until you reached your destination. After signing in for both and Yoongi, you handed your identification cards over to be scanned and the guard let you through the gates. 

“Jinnie.” You knocked on the white door and entered. The moment you entered, you were tackled to the ground, a figure standing over you. 

“(y/n)!” The arctic fox hybrid grinned and hugged you. You chuckled, patting his back as Yoongi helped you to stand up. 

“Yoongs.” Jin smiled. 

“Hey, Jin.” The panther had a small smile on his face as he greeted the male. Jin’s snow white, thick tail wagged in excitement and his pointy white ears also stood up, showing just how excited he was to see you and Yoongi. You reached over to pat his head, rubbing his ear between your fingers. 

“I’m sorry I haven’t come to see you. I brought some snacks.” You apologised, showing him the bag of different snacks in there. Jin loved his snacks. 

“It’s okay. I’m just happy you’re here now.” He nuzzled your neck. You still couldn’t help the guilt. 

“Stop feeling guilty, (y/n). I know it’s not your fault. You’re busy saving hybrids.” Jin must have been able to smell your emotions. Yoongi sat on Jin’s bed and the fox immediately went to sit with him. Even if Yoongi didn’t express it, he missed Jin as well. His tail was wrapped around the older male’s torso in a protective position. 

“How have you been, Jin?” You sat on the chair beside the bed. 

“Good. Dr Lee has been taking good care of me.” He smiled. You nodded your head in approval. 

You were going to adopt Jin but he didn’t pass the psychiatric assessment. Being a doctor yourself, you knew that Jin would not have been safe for all of you if he went home with you and Yoongi immediately. 

After discussing with both of them, Jin agreed to stay in a facility to help him with his anxiety. You had one of your best friends taking care of him. 

“Yoongi, I’m going to find Dr Lee. Can you stay here with Jin?” You stood up. Yoongi nodded and you kissed both of them on the head before leaving the room. You found your friend in her office. 

“(y/n).” She smiled as she got up and walked to you. 

“I didn’t know you were visiting Jin today.” She pulled you in for a hug. You trusted her with everything, especially Jin and his mental health. She was one of the best in the psychiatric care field for hybrids. As she sat back down, you sat opposite her. 

“I actually have a surprise for you. I was going to call you but seeing that you’re here. Might as well give it to you.” She chuckled and took something out from her drawer, sliding it across the desk. You opened the file and looked at it. 

“W-What?” You gasped as you read. Tears immediately filled your eyes, threatening to spill over. 

‘Patient Kim Seokjin Psychiatric assessment: PASSED Comments: Based on the close observations by the care team, Patient Seokjin has shown exceptional recovery and social skills amongst both humans and hybrids. When ready, his owner may check him out of the facility.’

“He’s coming home?” You cried. She nodded, tearing up herself. You both shared another hug. Quickly, you ran to the room but before you could open the door, Yoongi opened it. He had smelt you and your tears as you approached the door. You threw your arms around his neck as he held you in shock. What happened while you were in Dr Lee’s office?

“Kitten?” He held you in worry. 

“(y/n)? What’s wrong? I-Is everything okay? Did I do something wrong?” Seokjin panicked with a frown. You pulled away from Yoongi with a smile, wiping your tears with your sleeve. 

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Jinnie.” You assured, still trying to stop your tears. 

“Then why are you crying?” Jin tilted his head in confusion. 

“Jinnie, are you ready to come home?” You asked with a soft smile. The two hybrids froze in their spots. They looked at each other before turning to look at you. 

“What do you mean?” Yoongi spoke first. 

“You passed your assessment. You can come home. I can check you out when you’re ready.” Another round of tears came as the two boys hugged you tightly. Yoongi buried his head in your shoulder as Jin cried in your arms. Finally, your home was going to be complete again. Jin constantly chanted ‘I’m going home’ as he sobbed. You could only nod your head in agreement. 

“Let’s go home then.” Yoongi squeezed your hand. 

The both of you helped Jin pack up his things before heading to Dr Lee’s office again. She had the release papers on her table. Jin hugged her tightly, grateful for her help. 

“That was your effort, Jin. I merely gave you the push you needed.” She smiled, patted his back. Jin signed his confirmation paper and you signed all the other release forms, as his legal owner.

“Bye Jin. Take care. I’ll drop by from time to time to see you.” Dr Lee waved and the 3 of you left. Finally, both your boys would be home. 

“Let’s celebrate. Burgers?” You suggested as you drove. Jin clapped excitedly while Yoongi had a small smile on his face. You went to a burger joint and sat in a booth seat. 

“Welcome home, Jin.” Yoongi held his cup up. 

“It feels good to be going home. Thank you for never giving up on me.” Jin followed the other’s actions. You giggled and did the same. The three of you clinked your soda cups and dug in. Hybrids were not allowed to drink outside their homes in the event the alcohol makes them ‘feral’. Not like any of you were heavy drinkers anyway. 

“So good.” Jin licked his lips happily. 

“Yoongi! Stop stealing my curly fries.” You pouted and Yoongi shoved one tater tot out. With a grin, you leaned down and ate it from your hands. 

CRASH!

Jin jumped slightly at the sudden sound coming from the kitchen. You were about to stand up when Yoongi grabbed your wrist, shaking his head as a signal for you not to meddle in other people’s business. 

“(y/n), no.” There was yelping and growling from the kitchen, followed by loud shouts. Soon, all the other patrons in the restaurant had stopped eating and everyone’s attention was on the kitchen where the ruckus was coming from. You pushed Yoongi’s grip off you and ran to the kitchen before the boys could stop you again. 

“Madam, you need to leave.” The waitress tried to block the entrance way. 

“What’s going on?” You asked. 

“A stray broke into the kitchen. It is not safe.” She explained. From over her shoulder, you saw the chef holding up a knife. Your eyes widened as you pushed passed her and entered the messy kitchen. 

“I already told you that if you ever show up here again, you will regret it. I should have punished you last time!” The chef stood over the trembling body on the ground. 

“Stop!” You shouted. 

“Mind your own business!” The chef barked at you. You ran over and stood over the trembling hybrid, who buried his face in his arms. 

“I’m a doctor. He’s not even attacking you and you were trying to kill him.” You held your arms out. The chef saw the other people standing by the door, watching the exchange. His face turned red in embarrassment as he stormed over to you but there was a flash of black and white. 

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Yoongi growled, flashing his teeth. Jin stood next to him and did the same, both of their tails standing straight in defence. 

“Get out of my restaurant!” The chef yelled. 

“We weren’t planning on staying anyway.” Jin glared. You turned around and crouched down beside the trembling hybrid. Gently, you placed a hand on his head. 

“Hey, it’s okay. Come on, let’s go out.” You spoke softly, not wanting to scare him anymore. He flinched as you made contact with him. Worried the chef might get more violent, Yoongi made the decision to get all 4 of your out there as soon as possible. 

“Don’t be afraid, it’s just us. We will never hurt you.” You told him once you were outside. 

“(y/n)...” Yoongi could sense that the hybrid was not going to open up to you any time soon. He wanted to leave already. You held a hand up to Yoongi to tell him to wait as you tried to approach the hybrid again. 

“I know you’re scared. I’m (y/n), a doctor for hybrids. These are both my hybrids.” You said. He stopped and sniffed the air before lifting his head. You finally got a good look at his face. There were a few scratches and bruises on his face. 

“Tiger.” Yoongi mumbled from behind you. 

“A tiger hybrid? What’s your name? Do you have a home I can bring you to? I understand, you don’t have to come with me if you don’t want to. But I promise I just want to help you and make sure you’re safe.” You persuaded. 

“M-My name is Taehyung. I don’t have a home. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to break in. I was just hungry. I haven’t eaten in days. Please believe me, I didn’t want to hurt anyone.” He held your hands in his. 

“I believe you, Taehyung. You’re not in trouble.” You smiled. 

“Boys?” You turned to them. They knew what you were trying to hint at. Yoongi looked away, refusing to meet your eyes. He knew that just by looking at you, he will give in. Jin cleared his throat, unsure of what he should say. Your home was their territory and yet, they knew what it felt like to be in Taehyung’s position. Without a home, without someone to love them. 

“It’s your home, (y/n).” Yoongi said. 

“No. It’s both your homes too.” You stood up and faced them. Yoongi made the mistake of looking at you. He cursed. You were trying to be respectful to them and their opinion, not wanting to offend them or force them into something they were uncomfortable with. 

“It’s late. Just let him stay the night and we’ll talk tomorrow.” Jin suggested and you nodded, looking over at Yoongi. 

“Blame my bad luck for having an owner with such a big heart.” Yoongi wrapped an arm around you and kissed your forehead. You laughed.

“Taehyung, why don’t you stay with us for a night? I’ll treat your injuries, you can get something to eat, take a shower and rest in a bed. If you want to leave in the morning, you are free to do so.” You offered. 

“Really?” He looked at you suspiciously. 

“Let’s go already.” Yoongi walked off to the car, pulling you with him. You sat in the driver’s seat, Yoongi in the passenger, Jin and Taehyung in the back. 

You pulled up to your house. Thankfully, your parents were kinda of wealthy and with your doctor reputation, you were able to buy a big house. Although, you, Yoongi and Jin only occupied 3 of the rooms for yourself. Yoongi helped Jin with his things while you led Taehyung into the house. 

“Yoongi, can you bring Taehyung to the guest room, please?” You requested and Yoongi let out a low growl. 

“Come on. Jinnie needs to unpack.” You pleaded and Yoongi rolled his eyes, sitting on the couch instead. Shaking your head, you brought Taehyung to the room, lending some of Jin’s clothes, since Yoongi was the smallest of the 3.

“I’m sorry about him. He’s just shy.” You smiled. 

“I understand. This is his nest. His scent is everywhere. I wouldn’t like if a stranger came onto my territory too.” Taehyung said and you patted his head. 

“He’s just protective. I’ll see you downstairs.” You left Taehyung to give him some privacy. Heading to the kitchen, you took out some food to cook for the tiger in the shower. A tail began to snake itself up your leg and you didn’t need to turn to know who it was. Arms wrapped themselves around your waist and a chin rested on your shoulder. 

“It’s alright, Yoongi. I don’t blame you.” You reached back to pat his head. He didn’t need to say anything for you to know how he felt. 

“Mmm.” He hummed and began rubbing his nose against your neck. Reaching over, he switched the stove off and turned you around so you faced him instead. Jin came down and Yoongi let out a growl, smelling another presence. You held a hand out to stop him, not saying a word. 

“I’m going back up.” You heard Jin mumbled and head back upstairs.

Yoongi purred against your neck, continuing to scent you. His tail curled around your thigh and his hands fisted the back of your shirt. You wrapped your arms around him to hold him. 

“Mine.” He growled. When he pulled away, you kissed his cheek and turned back to cooking. Yoongi continued to stay by your side. 

“Jin, I’m going to my room. Can you give this to Taehyung?” You told the male who had come back down. He nodded his head and you smiled gratefully. With Yoongi’s fresh scent on you, you didn’t want to get too closed to Taehyung and scare him away.

“I-” Taehyung froze in his tracks when he came back down. 

“Sorry.” You quickly moved past Taehyung and went to the living room. Yoongi followed behind me, sitting on the couch. 

“No showering.” He commanded. 

“Why? I need to shower, Yoongs. We’ve been out the whole day.” You chuckled. He growled and pulled me until I crashed against his body, his face pressed against my abdomen. 

“You showered when we came back from the hospital. I just scented you. No showering.” He commanded. 

“Alright, alright.” You stroked his head, hearing him purr into your stomach. Looking over, Taehyung was wolfing the food down at the kitchen island. Jin watched over him and you softened. Thank God for Jin finally being here. You tapped Yoongi on the head and he finally released you so you could go over to the duo in the kitchen. 

“I’m sorry, Taehyung. I know it’s hard to ignore.” You rubbed the back of your neck, sheepishly.

“It’s okay.” He whispered, putting a big spoon of rice into his mouth. You smiled and patted his head, turning to Jin. Jin bent down slightly and you rubbed your ears, giggling. 

“Sorry your welcome home dinner didn’t really go as planned.” You joked. Jin shook his head and wrapped his arms around your waist. 

“You and Yoongi were there. That’s more than enough for me.” He confessed and you pinched his cheek. 

Once Taehyung was done eating, you sat him down on the couch and began to treat his injuries. Luckily, they were all superficial and didn’t need any stitches. You wiped his cuts and put small band aids over them. Yoongi and Jin stayed by your side, in the event Taehyung does suddenly lash out at you. 

“It’s rare for a tiger hybrid to be a stray. Where did you come from, Taehyung?” You asked him. 

“I escaped...” He looked down. 

“From where?” 

“An illegal circus.” He admitted after a few seconds of silence. Yoongi and Jin let out growls at his words. Yoongi was from an illegal fighting ring and Jin was from an illegal exotic pet auction. Even though you were angry, you were glad that the two could empathise with Taehyung and what he had been through, making them a little more accepting. 

“How long have you been on the run?” You asked. 

“I don’t know... It has been a long while.” He said. You nodded your head. Once again, Taehyung grasped your hands. 

“Please don’t report me. I don’t want to go back.” He begged. 

“I won’t report you, Taehyung. What they’re doing is illegal and wrong. You’ll never have to go back there again.” You assured him and he let out a sigh of relief, releasing your hands. 

“Get some rest. We’ll talk more about this tomorrow morning.” You told him. He nodded and all of you headed upstairs to turn in for the night. Jin slept on your right and Yoongi stayed on your left. 

#kpop #kpop series #kpop scenarios #bts #bts series #bts scenarios #bts hybrid series #bts hybrid au #hybrid!au #hybrid bts #bts hybrid #hybrid au #bts hybrid x reader #bts x reader #hybrid x reader #ot7 x reader

[thr-333]

Just Another Class Trip :)  Part 3

You know getting dragged through a multi billion dollar corporations building to try and avoid your illegitimate father, a normal monday for most I’m sure.

First< Previous >Next

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It’s official, I hate Adrien

Marinette groans, having been practically dragged out of bed for breakfast. Adrien was wisely backed up as far as he could in the elevator. She yawns, making it loud as possible and looking Adrien right in the eye.

“Maybe you shouldn’t have stayed out so late,” Tikki giggles, hidden in her scarf.

Yeah it turns out that ‘just need to help out one person’ turned into a it is now 3am and I am halfway across the city beating up a gang.

“At least the box was safe,” Marinette whispers back, she had crashed in Adrien's room, no matter how mad Lila would be, or because of it who knows.

And indeed Lila was mad. The second they step foot into the hotel restaurant the entire class turns to stare at them. Crowded around a smug looking Lila with tears rolling down her cheeks. Marinette just turns a sharp left to the coffee. It isn’t until she has downed half a cup and refilled it that she tries to look for her friends.

Chloe looks just as dead as her, so she sits next to her. Let the morning people talk, they were ready to pass out together.

“Kagami?”

“Yep, Adrien?”

“Yep,”

“Morning people,” They both sneer.

“Were you planning on sleeping all morning?” Kagami asks, eating breakfast like a normal person, what a jerk.

“Were you planning on watching me all morning?” Chloe half heartedly retorts.

“You are adorable when you’re sleeping,”

“Fuck you, I’m adorable all the time,”

“Chlo, language, please,” Marinette implores, nursing her giant cup.

“Shut up Dupain-Cheng,” Chloe snaps, face planting back into the table.

“She’s not that cute actually,” Kagami whispers to Adrien, “Wore a face mask she got green all over the bed,”

“I’ll get green all over you,” Chloe mumbles absentmindedly.

"Marinette,"

"Ah the storm is coming,took them long enough" She takes a gulp of burning coffee, "Yes Alya?"

"You cant just say that to a person," Alya tries to explain, as if talking down to a child, "Lila was up all night crying,"

"She probably just put on a recording and went soundly to sleep," Chloe scoffs, sleepily looking up from the table.

"I was with her all night!" Alya turns to Chloe, seething rage coming to the surface.

"Thats some impressive endurance," Marinette mutters, downing more coffee.

"You think she's been practicing?" Chloe smirks.

"This isn't-"

"Make sure she get's plenty of water," Marinette turns away, hoping the conversation would be over.

"Marinette!" Alya looks down at her the way Marinette often looks at her, the look at a dear friend who changed, "Can't you see you're hurting Lila?"

"Can't you see she's hurting me?" She covers that honestly by gulping down more coffee, she has not had enough for this conversation.

"You used to be so nice Marinette," Alya dodges the question, pointing to Chloe and Kagami instead, "Then you started spending time with these two, and, and you changed!"

"Believe what you want Alya," Marinette motions for her friends to stay calm, "But they stand by me when no one else will, especially you,"

"Thats because!- Marinette if you had just gotten to know Lila instead of being jealous this would have never happened," Alya looks down at her sadly, Marinette was sure Paris would have been up in flames somehow if she had ever trusted Lila, "If you just didn't spend time around these bullies everything could be the same, you wouldn't have become a bully too,"

"So what?" She spits bitterly, looking over at the table watching them, Lila looking disgruntled it wasn't an all out fight, "If I got up and joined that table right now, would everything go back to the way it was?"

"... No,"

Marinette’s pocket buzzes in a familiar sequence. Akuma alert.

"Ok then, not much point in arguing about it, I'm going to stay with my friends, the ones I can actually trust," Marinette quickly shuts down Alya's protest, "Now go get Lila some water,"

Alya walks off back to the table, everyone crowding around her. Marinette waits for the door to be clear, she has to leave before Alya finishes or the whole class will be breathing down her neck.

“Forgot something in my room,” Marinette slings on her back pack, “Be back soon,”

She was not back soon, she was not back soon at all. Luckily she should only be three minutes late for the bus-and nope they left, great. She’ll just have to catch up with the tour later.

Well, I had stuff to do anyways

She talks with the receptionist; her assistant should have sent her a prepared motorcycle to the hotel the day before. It’s a quick drive to the location she had selected specifically to be close to the hotel.

She puts on a simple domino mask before entering the building, she didn’t want anyone to leak her identity after all. Walking in she’s glad to see everything is not in disarray.

“MDC,” Her assistant, Liam walks up to her.

Liam was someone she met through Penny. He’s older than her and also acted as her guardian on most of her trips as MDC. He does know her civilian identity, which she trusted him completely to keep. She likes him because-

“Is that mine?” She snatches the cup of coffee as he passes it to her.

“Figured you needed it,” Liam smiles, wincing as she downs the burning liquid, it's fine she has a strong healing factor, “You said your bag was stolen? This should replace it, it’s most of what you had plus more,”

He rolls forward a pre packed suitcase.

“I would die without,” Marinette says in all seriousness, “So what's the damage?”

“No major problems so far, the security we hired is enough to scare away the smaller thugs,” Liam nods to some security personnel guarding each door, “They won't be enough if any super villains try to attack the actual show,”

“Mm, give them instructions on the night of the show they are only allowed to intercept small time, anything bigger they are not allowed to engage,” Marinette studies the room, there's great places to hide, friend or foe, “If they see anything they are simply to report it directly to me,”

“They can’t engage?” Liam looks around, trying to see what she is.

“They won't be able to stop them anyway, and there is no reason for them to die,”

“If you say so,” Liam leads her through the room where lights are being set up and walls are being painted, “So what's the plan if we do get attacked?”

“I’m sure Batman is going to have his eye on any big events,” Marinette approves of the color of the back wall, it looking even better in person, “Besides I’m planning on trying to intercept before any violence,”

“In other words you're going to make my job a lot more stressful,” Liam sighs, making a note or rather on his tablet.

“Not if I can help it,”

“You can’t,” Liam sighs again at her grin, “Didn’t you have a tour with your class today?”

“They left me,” Liam seems equally unsurprised, “But I should probably head for Wayne tower anyway,”

“Don’t get into trouble,”

“I never get into trouble,” Marinette smirks from the door, “Trouble drags me into it kicking and screaming,”

“More like keen and skipping,” Liam closes the door in her face.

Marinette strolls into the Wayne tower an hour late with Starbucks, she sees is her class, being a nuisance arguing with a tour guide.

“You cannot just leave a student alone in Gotham,” The tour guide all but yells at Madame Bustier.

“Marinette is very responsible, she can handle herself,” Madame Bustier more defends herself than Marinette.

“I don’t care how responsible your student is, that won't stop them from getting shot!” This time he does yell, “You need to go back and pray to god she’s alright and hasn't gotten lost for some murder to find!”

Alright time to break the tension

“Hey, what did I miss?” Marinette asks casually, Already sipping at her straw when all eyes turn to her.

“Marinette! How did you get here?” Madame bustier demands.

“I-”

“I think you mean ‘are you alright, I’m so sorry for leaving you behind,” The tour guide glowers, apparently threatening enough that Madame Bustier actually repeats him.

“I’m fine, I borrowed a bike from my friend in Gotham,”

“You don’t have a licence in Gotham,” Lila sneers triumphantly.

Oh look who actually did some research, how much digging did you do when I learnt how to ride a motorcycle

“I didn’t say it was a motorcycle,” That shut’s Lila up, “But yeah it is a motorcycle,

Worth it for that face

“Also I got my licence approved in America before I came,”

So worth that face

Lila opens her mouth, better than the flood gates, when the tour guide interrupts.

“Now that everyone is here,” He sends a smile to Marinette and a glare to Madame Bustier somehow at the same time, she gets the tinglily feeling of  miraculous holder, or maybe its just the caffeine, “We can start, my name is Dick I will be your tour guide today.

They follow Dick through the tour Marinette's group right behind Dick. She scribbled designs and took notes as he talked, asking her own questions. This got her dubbed Dicks favourite, and easy title to gain as the rest of the class lagged behind. Most were listening to Lila, only Max and Alix were straining to hear Dick over the chatter. Marinette would occasionally pick up a mention of the Wayne's and knew it wasn't related to the tour. She'd have to guess Lila was lying about either dating someone or saving their life, or because it's Lila probably both. A gutsy move in the Wayne tower she had to admit. Marinette could tell Dick was listening and would probably have that rumour make it back to the Wayne's themselves. Would the wrath of some of the richest and most powerful people be enough to stop her? not likely.

They split up for lunch at the cafeteria in the building. She saw the coffee machine and was about to make a bee line to it when Kagami pulled her back to eat some 'real food' whatever that is. She makes a break for it after eating the so called 'real food', right before the tour was about to restart. She reaches it as a familiar figure is also waiting.

"Hi Tim," She greets, getting him to actually jump, "You work here?"

"Hi! um-yeah," He looks over to her, "How did you do that?"

"Do what?" She takes the biggest travel cup they have available.

"Sn-nothing," Tim still looks uneasy, then his eyes lock onto the cup, "tired?"

"Was up till three am last night, plus jet lag?" She yawns, "Yeah I'm tired,"

"Then you'll want to put that cup back,"

"Hm why?"

he gets her answer when Tim ducks down, opening a hidden cupboard full of travel cups at least twice the size of her current one,

"Tim I love you," She fills up the giant cup, "You're my favourite person in Gotham as of right now,"

"Not Dick?"

"Eh, his puns are lacklustre," She shrugs, Tim spits out his drink, "You know Dick?"

"Yep, give him a hard time for me!" Tim calls over his shoulder, walking away.

"You got it!" She hurries in the opposite direction, late for the tour once again.

“Did you get another coffee?” Dick asks as they enter the PR department.

“They were serving them at lunch,” Marinette could almost laugh at how quickly he had begun to fret over her during the tour.

“I know, that was my brothers idea, or rather demand,” Dick sighs, someone else approaching the group to direct the tour.

“Your brother works here?”

“Sure does,”

“But you don’t”

This makes Dick pause, looking down at her as she sips at the coffee.

“What?”

“I mean you don’t work this job at least,” She shrugs, it wasn't hard to figure out.

“Why's that?”

“You seem uncomfortable, your charismatic but still lack the smoothness of a rehearsed tour, plus you seem offended that they are in the back chatting,” Marinette nods towards Lila and her posse, “Regular tour guides would be used to that,”

“You found me out,” Dick chuckles, “I’m just taking over for today,”

“Well I think you picked a bad class to do that for,” She looks over at most her class ignoring the speaker trying to get their attention.

“I think I picked the right one,” Dick says cryptically, then walks off to help herd the class.

“Alright you have to give me the recipe,” Marinette overhears from a nearby desk.

Someone is sitting on it eating a cookie, while the other taps away at her computer.

“Sorry no can do,” She shrugs, “I don’t know it,”

“How can you not know it, you baked them right?” He asks, trying to steal another one and getting his hand slapped away.

“Nope, new vigilante came in, beat up someone robbing my house and baked me cookies,”

“This is Gotham so I believe the first two,” He looks between her and the container, “But cookies?”

“They also gave me free therapy,” She shrugs, before tapping on the container,“And do you really believe I could make these?”

“Touche,” He smirks leaning back on the desk, “So who’s the new guy? With the Batclan?”

“No they said they were just passing through,” She doesn't look up from her computer, focusing intently on the screen, “Names Starling,”

“Never heard of them,”

“Neither, and I tried looking them up,” She sighs, pushing back from the computer in defeat, “Found someone, but it’s not them, actually couldn't find anything on them,”

“Weird,” He gets up from the desk, “Can’t imagine Batman is going to take kindly to a new vigilante running around,”

“Unless he adopts them,”

“That… yeah he probably will,”

"Oh no-CLAIRE" The speaker trying to wrangle her class stops, "We have a problem!"

"Sorry to cut this short," Claire doesn't look sorry at all, "Seems we have important matters to tend to,"

She follows Dick out of the department, ushering her class as she goes. Claire looks over at her like she has two heads, a mixture of impressed and pity, and perhaps a bit of jealously.

They get to go further up the building, to the higher floors. They reach a space that is mostly meeting rooms. He class decide to take advantage of Dick declaring they are completely sound proof, or maybe they took it as a challenge. Marinette is walking past a hall when someone leaning against the wall catches her eye.

“Auntie Selina?!”

They look around, only spotting Marinette seconds before they collide into a hug, she feels the tingling buzz of a true holder.

“Mari!” Selina picks her up and spins her around, no different from when she was five, “Oh, my love it’s so good to see you, when did you arrive in Gotham?”

Marinette watches as her smile morphs into horror.

“Wait, what are you doing in Gotham!?”

“It’s a class trip and- hey where are we going?” Her Auntie grabs her arm pulling her down the hall.

“Marinette!” Dick calls, walking around the corner, Selina makes a sharp turn down another corridor, “Wait!”

Selina is two steps away from running as she pulls Marinette through the maze of hallways.

“Auntie where are we going?”

“Down here,” She opens the door leading to a staircase, too narrow to be a fire exit.

“That’s not really what I was asking,”

Selina inputs a key code, the door swinging open as she is pulled into the room.

“Wait!” She gets pulled through another door just as quick “Was that wall full of weapons?”

“Just a picture sweetie,” She says sweetly, “Down these stairs,”

“Aunt Selina what are we running from?” They are running now, floor after floor.

“We’re not running from anything sweetie,” Selina speeds up, “I just wanted to show you a cool spot in Gotham,”

“Right,” Marinette raises an eyebrow, “I was actually with the class so maybe we could go later?”

“It closes in five minutes,”

“Like you wouldn’t just break in if we were going somewhere,”

“I promise I will take you somewhere nice,” She smiles back at Marinette, they reach the end of the stairs, coming to a garage of sorts, “If you promise to hurry up,”

“Sure-” She does a double take, of the room, “Hold up are those costumes?”

“Collectors stuff, you know,” They are surrounded by bat themed... everything, “Rich people,”

“Right and how do you know this?”

“I-” She hesitates, eyes drifting, “Hey look, the exit!”

They all out sprint towards the exit. Selina reaches out to open the door a second after it swings open.

“Selina,” The man smiles at Selina as she runs into him.

“Hey Bruce,” Selina jumps back, trying to hide Marinette behind her.

“Where are you going?” Bruce looks behind her at Marinette, who gives a little wave.

“Out! Got to hurry!” She grabs Marinette's arm again, trying to pull her around Bruce.

“Is something wrong?” Bruce grabs Selina's shoulders to keep her still and looking at him.

“Nope nothings wrong,” She wriggles out of his grasp, trying again to pull Marinette away.

“Ok then,” Bruce still looks worried but turns to Marinette instead, “Hello I’m Bruce Wayne, Selina finance,”

“YOU’RE HER WHAT!?”

“Snitch,” He Auntie spits out venomously.

“Why didn’t you tell me!?” Marinette asks her with the biggest grin.

“Surprise,” Selina gives half heated jazz hands.

“Wait! Whens the wedding? Do You have a dress? I’ll make one!” She deicides, brining out her sketchbook, drawing different designs, “What's the theme? Never mind tell me on the way to the fabric store, I’ll sketch up some designs,”

“Darling, please-” Selina is now getting pulled along.

“Oh! I’ll call Papa! I’m sure he’ll want to make your cake! We have to hurry, come on lets go!” They're already out the door, Marinette waves turning back to Bruce, “Nice meeting you!”

“What just happened?” Bruce asks Dick as he runs up next to him.

“She kidnapped one of the students on tour,”

“Who is now making her wedding dress,” Bruce nods, not understanding anything

“Did I miss something?”

I think we all did

--------------------

Taglist:

@smolplantmum @flufflepuffle296 @dawnwave16  @caffeinetheory   @g-arya   @Maribat-2k20   @ladybug-182    @Actual-disaster-human    @fusser90   @messrs-weasley   @soap-lady  @paintedhope7   @zeneralla    @mochegato     @random-nerd-3 @clumsy-owl-4178  @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen   @too0bsessedformyowngood @certifiedbidisaster  @Purplegeekypanda @awkward0ghostfan @theymakeupfairies @tikki-marinette @insane-fangirl-of-everything @elmokingkong @inarachi02 @slytherinhquinn @moongoddesskiana @dast218 @buginetye @redscarlet95

#miraculous #miraculous ladybug fic #miraculous ladybug #miraculous fanfic #miraculous marinette #mlb #ml fic #ml #bio dad bruce wayne #Bio Dad Bruce Wayne Month 2020 #bio! dadbrucewaynemonth2020 #b!dbwm2020 #biodad au #Marinette #badass marinette #maribat #marinette is mdc #salt #class salt #Lila salt #lila lies #fluff

[ragingpancake]

Times Like These - Chapter One

Summary: In which Rodney is very much not happy when his boyfriend suddenly finds himself six years old again, courtesy of those wacky Ancients. I, I'm a new day rising I'm a brand new sky To hang the stars upon tonight I am a little divided Do I stay or run away And leave it all behind?

“Unscheduled off-world activation!”

The sound of the Gate activating tears through the control tower, startling Elizabeth from her office. There’s only one team off-world and they weren’t due back for another day and a half, their next scheduled check in much later that evening.

“Who is it?”

“I’m reading Teyla’s IDC, ma’am,” Chuck says and Elizabeth gestures for him to open up a channel, arms crossed over her chest as she waits for Chuck’s nod.

“Teyla,” she greets, “a little early for your check in. Everything alright?”

There’s a muffled response that sounds suspiciously like Rodney before Teyla speaks, and though her voice is calm, the entire tower can pick up on the slightest bit of concern in her tone. “We have run into a… bit of a problem,” she hesitates and Elizabeth nods for Chuck to lower the shield.

“Is anyone hurt?”

“Not exactly, but perhaps it would be best to explain to you in person.”

“The shield’s down. Come on through.”

“Very well.” Another pause. “Elizabeth… it might be wise if you have Doctor Beckett on standby.”

“We’ll have a medical team brought in immediately.”

“Not a full team,” Teyla warns. “Just Doctor Beckett will suffice.”

There’s another beat, Elizabeth’s head cocking to the side as she considers. “What exactly are we dealing with?”

“If I told you now, you wouldn’t believe me. We are coming through the Gate.”

The radio cuts off and less than a moment later, AR-1 steps through the event horizon, or at least three of them do. Elizabeth comes down the stairs, eyes scanning her people for any sign of illness or injury as she waits for Beckett and for John, but the event horizon closes and something catches in her throat.

“Where’s Colonel Sheppard?”

Teyla and Ronon share a look and for the first time, she notices the lump in Ronon’s arms, covered with a jacket.

“In case you’ve missed the memo,” Rodney snaps, gesturing broadly to Ronon, “this entire fucking galaxy is littered with stupid machines courtesy of those wacky Ancients that have horrible, no good, completely asinine purposes and so here we are.”

“Rodney,” Teyla admonishes gently.

They’re all saved a response with Carson arrives, looking a bit confused and Elizabeth can sympathize, because she still has no idea what’s going on. “I’ll ask again,” she says, keeping her voice even, “where is Colonel Sheppard?”

Rodney moves as if to pull the jacket from Ronon’s arms, but Teyla stops him with a hand to his chest and very carefully, gently, she pulls it back to reveal a small child with a crop of dark, unruly hair. He’s asleep (or unconscious, likely, given how the commotion has not woken him), long lashes brushing against pale cheeks. “Bloody hell!”

“Is that--?”

“Colonel Sheppard, yes,” Teyla finishes, tucking the jacket around the tiny body again, hiding him from view. “I am certain that the Colonel would appreciate it if we could move our discussion from the gate room.” She settles a hand on Ronon’s shoulder as Carson steps forward as if to get another, closer look at the boy, but he must see something on Ronon’s face that stops him short.

“Right. Er… c’mon then, bring the lad this way. We’ll get him to the infirmary, under some scans and find out exactly what we’re dealin’ with.”

“What we’re dealing with is another example of how it’s not actually the Wraith that are the bad guys in this narrative, but the Ancients,” Rodney says scathingly and while the team sets off for the infirmary, he starts in the opposite direction, intent on locking himself in his lab until all of this blows over.

Or at least intent on scouring the database to figure out what he needs to piece that god damned machine back together after Ronon blasted it into six million pieces.

Easy.

---

They all wait with baited breath as the scanner makes another pass over the little boy—over John, she has to remind herself. He’s still unconscious and the circles under his eyes look darker now in the harsh infirmary light and Elizabeth crosses her eyes, never pulling her eyes away.

“Okay,” she says, lifting a hand to chew on her thumbnail. “Walk me through this again. You were exploring an Ancient outpost.”

Ronon growls in frustration, hands digging into his dreads at the thought of having to go through this again, but Teyla remains unbothered.

“Correct. Rodney was picking up a strong energy signal. The outpost was empty, but there was a machine in the very center of a large dais, pulsating. Once Rodney determined that it was the cause of the signal, he decided that perhaps we should get a closer look, fearful that it might have been similar to the one on M1B-129.”

“The one that caused the hallucinations.”

“Exactly.” Teyla’s eyes returned to the boy’s face before she continued. “John stepped up onto the dias to get a better look and the next thing we knew, he was surrounded by a blue light, screaming.”

“Then what happened?”

“Then I shot it,” Ronon answers.

“You shot it,” Elizabeth repeats.

“Uh huh. And I’d do it again. We had no way of knowing what it was doing to him, but he needed help and we needed to get him out of there.” It’s almost as if dares Elizabeth to challenge his decision, though she thinks after studying his face for just a moment, perhaps he’s reconsidering himself.

“Yes, well,” Teyla says, reaching to settle a hand on Ronon’s wrist as if to calm him. “Once the machine shut down and the blue light dissipated, John was… well.”

“Do we have any idea what this has actually done to him?” Elizabeth asks and she glances at Carson for answers, but he has none. “Is he still… him? Will he have his memories or--?”

“He has been unconscious since the machine shut down,” Teyla answers. “We are not sure exactly what the outcome will be.”

“His scans look good,” Carson answers, sighing as the machine comes to a stop. “Well. For a six year old boy, anyway. I see no ill effects from the machine, other than the obvious, but until the lad wakes, we won’t truly know what we’re dealin’ with.”

“But he will, right? Wake up?”

“I see no reason why he shouldn’t. But perhaps we ought to prepare for the worst. There’s a chance that he’ll wake up and have no idea where he is or who any of us are. Perhaps we should clear out, leave one person in here to lessen the confusion or fear.”

“I’ll do it,” Ronon answers immediately, and Elizabeth is unsure of the most delicate way to thank him for his offer while gently declining. Thankfully, Teyla speaks up again.

“No,” she answers and she smiles up at Ronon before she turns her attention back to John. “I will stay. Why don’t you go find Rodney and see if he’s managed to find anything in the database that could possibly provide answers as to what’s happened to John, but importantly, how to reverse it.”

“I’m going to send a team back through,” Elizabeth decides. “See if we can find any spare parts that weren’t destroyed that we may be able to use to retrofit one of the Ancient devices here.”

“Aye,” Carson agrees. “Teyla, if he wakes—”

“You’ll be the first to know, Carson.” And he gives her a smile, dropping a hand to her shoulder to squeeze gently. “Perhaps,” she says as he moves to take his leave, “you would be able to dim the lights? It may be startling with the bright lights once he wakes.”

“Of course, love,” and then he’s gone, leaving Elizabeth and Teyla alone.

“Never a dull day in the Pegasus Galaxy,” Elizabeth tries to joke, but she feels like it falls short when the child on the bed snuffles and turns his head to the side, face relaxing just a bit as the lights in the infirmary dim. “Keep me posted, okay?”

“Of course, Elizabeth,” Teyla replies graciously and as Elizabeth takes her leave, she thinks she hears Teyla humming something quietly… almost like a lullaby.

#sga fic #stargate atlantis #john sheppard/rodney mckay #john sheppard #rodney mckay #mcshep #elizabeth weir #teyla emmagan #ronon dex #carson beckett #de-aged!John #hurt/comfort #angst

[lazuli-bloom]

Roses and Styx

Chapter 1 - An Inconvenient Attachment

Beetlejuice x Reader

Word Count : 5365

Sure life wasn’t always easy, it had it’s ups and downs, but you were doing alright for yourself. Mostly. However when you find a strange sight while on your lunch break one autumn afternoon, your life gets all the more unusual.

Archive | Next Chapter

--=--=--

The sun beat down on you, unobstructed by a single cloud in the vibrant blue sky. A pleasant breeze wafted by, chilling the heat of the sun’s kiss. Summer was in its death throes, but stayed determined to linger as long as possible. It gave an odd contrast to the scenery. The blazing warmth of a summer sun illuminating the turning leaves and tombstones on that early October afternoon.

You sat on a stone bench enjoying your lunch in the quiet peace of the graveyard. Most people avoided visits to the cemetery, not wanting to keep the company of the dead. You, however, frequented it. With few visitors and lovely Gothic inspired architecture, the cemetery made a relaxing place for lunch breaks. Plus, it was only a short walk from your job.

While there were benches throughout the graveyard, your favorite spot was one off in the corner and closest to the gate. That day, however, there had been a funeral held in that corner of the cemetery. So as not to impose, you picked a different bench to occupy. You tried to not let your gaze stay fixed on the graveside service, but the task proved to be easier said than done. The funeral repeatedly pulled your attention back to it by partly virtue of being an event you’ve rarely seen.

Many people, dressed in black, all focused on one grave. Most of the figures standing there were adults, but among the crowd were children clinging onto parents. The group was too far to get a proper look at any of the mourners, but there was one that stuck out. A man, slightly broad in build, wore a peculiar striped suit with wide vertical bars in black and white. You noted the clothing choice as strange, but tried not to judge. Perhaps he wasn’t able to get a solid black suit on short notice.

The strange pattern of the suit made it easy to pick him out against the other mourners. He didn’t stay still. He moved around, seeming to want to get other’s attention only to be ignored. The man’s bizarre actions, coupled with the indifference of the crowd, were major reasons you kept glancing back to the funeral.

You shake your head and check your phone, almost two o’clock. Time to head back to work. You grab your trash and get up with a stretch. With one last glance back to the funeral, you find the striped suit man looking back your way. You pay him no mind and check your phone once more before heading to leave.

To wring the most time and relaxation out of your lunch, you amble back to the hardware store. You turn to the next street where brick shops sat side by side. On the corner was a shop with a rounded, sun-faded green awning stretched over most of the front facade. Your eye glanced over the printed “Rose Creek Hardware” in yellow letters for what must have been the millionth time.

The bell above the door chimed as you stepped inside. To your left an older mustached man stood behind the front counter. He wore a light blue button down under a green apron, both tight around his rounder stomach. He gave you a warm smile that you returned.

“Back from lunch already, Cass?”

“Yeah. It’s really nice out today, I can hardly believe it’s October already.”

“Hopefully, when I get the Halloween decorations up, it’ll give things a more autumn feel.”

“Can’t wait to see it, Mr. Turner! Oh, and is Sam still here? Or have they left already?”

“They’re still around. Sam was helping the new hire.”

You nod and make your way behind the counter to retrieve your apron. After you get the strings tied, you do a sweep of the store. You found Sam in the back corner pulling merchandise forward. They didn’t notice you straight away, so you softened your footsteps for your approach. You stayed at their back until they turned enough one way that you could slip around to their side and not get caught in Sam’s peripheral. Once close enough to the shelving yourself, you slap your hands down on a bare spot- “-Missed a spot!”

Sam seized up, grabbing the shelf for support. “Geez, dude! You trying to kill me?” A wide grin breaks across your face. You chuckle to yourself as Sam regained some composure. They took a breath, shot you a glare, and got back to work.

“Heard you were training the new guy.”

“Yeah, he left already.”

“What’s he like?”

“Eh. Kinda boring? White bread personified, if you ask me. Dude came in with a dress shirt and tie.”

You shrug and start helping pull forward items. While turning products to have labels front-facing you continue on with your conversation. “Sounds like all I’ll have left to talk to will be Mr. Turner.”

There was a pause in that moment, and a sting of sorrow poked at your heart. You do your best to smother the feeling and focus on your work. It’s better to cherish the moment. You force yourself to smile and keep your chat going.

“So, there was a funeral today-”

Sam groaned and rolled their eyes at you. “You went to that creepy graveyard again? How are you not haunted?”

“Hey! I told you, it’s close by and usually quiet. I enjoy taking my lunches there. Anyway, there was a funeral and one guy there was in a weird suit with black and white stripes. Kinda like the Hamburglar.”

“I swear. You’re a magnet for the weirdest shit. It’s all those shitty movies you watch that seep into your head. How the hell do you not get nightmares?”

You stay silent and look over the product in your hand as your mind wandered back to your most recent nightmare. Piercing blue dots masked in shadow, watching every move you made. You shake your head to dismiss the thought.

You huff out a small laugh. “Guess that stuff just doesn’t get to me.”

“Whatever. Just don’t let any of your weirdness rub off on my cat.”

You press your lips into a tight line and tap your finger against the pliers in hand. “You sure there isn’t anywhere else he can go?”

“Cassie, I already told you I checked.”

“I’m just worried. I don’t think this is a good idea. My apartment doesn’t allow pets.”

“It’s just for two weeks. I’ll pick him up on the sixteenth. Hell, that’s not even a full two weeks, just thirteen days. You’ll be fine.” Sam finished with their side of the aisle and took a step back. “When do you want me to drop him off?”

You breathe out through your nose and make a noise somewhere between a hum and a groan. “Seven should be alright. Donna’s always heads out to the bars on Saturdays, so it should be clear by then.”

“You need to lighten up and not worry so much. Maybe a cute roommate is exactly what you need.”

You don’t give a reply and go back to work. The two of you split off and start tackling other sections of the store. Time marched on, and all too soon, Sam’s last shift ended. Mr. Turner bid them a farewell with a handshake and handed Sam their last paycheck. You give them a small wave and focus back on your task. You knew full well you were going to see them later that night, so you didn’t see the point of having a drawn out goodbye right then.

Once Sam left, the rest of the day dragged on slower than a sloth on crutches. When there weren’t any customers needing help, you talked with Mr. Turner. It gave you something to do, sure, but time still crawled.

That day was one of the worst kinds you can have in retail. The kind that’s just slow enough you bored out of your mind, and peppered with enough customers that you couldn’t slack off and dick around on the store’s desktop. It’s like they coordinated to space themselves out to be the most annoying.

As grueling as it took to get there, five-thirty eventually rolled around. You and the boss took the last half hour to close the store. Sweep, wipe down the counters, count the till, all that good stuff. You were in the middle of dusting when Mr. Turner handed you an envelope. You thanked him and opened it to count the bills inside. Five whole Benjamins. With another thanks, you move the bills into your wallet and get back to dusting.

Once all finished, you headed out, followed by your boss. He locked the front door and walked with you around the side to the small parking lot. He hopped into his old pickup while you climbed into your little junker. The bucket of rust masquerading as a car was on its way out, but you planned on getting every mile out of it you could. Mr. Turner had driven off by the time you coaxed your car into starting. The car sputtered and hissed, but you got the clunker going.

The drive to your apartment complex was as mundane and silent as ever. Your only option for music was to sing it yourself, since the previous owner had beaten the hell out of the radio. CDs weren’t an option either as the owner before the last had stuffed the disc slot full of cookies. For what reason remained a mystery.

You drum your fingers on the steering wheel as you drove, watching familiar sites go by as you neared your apartment. Nicer well-kept buildings and streets slowly turned to the more rundown variety. The street grew more broken and in increasingly desperate need of repairs as you went.

Building after building, you passed by until finally it was time to turn off. You pull up to your complex’s parking lot, just as run down as the roads leading to it. Two buildings sat facing each other, both in contest for which one can be the most rundown. Your building nudged ahead of its twin with the recent addition of graffiti marring the exterior.

You park in your designated spot, managing to not bump up against the two cars encroaching on your space. You worm your way out without adding anymore dents to the black sedan, and head to the complex’s front door. Standing near the door with a cigarette between clawed yellowed fingers was a scrawny older woman with a perpetual sneer on her wrinkled face. Cold steel eyes narrowed at you as you dared to approach the harpy.

“Hi Donna. How are you?”

“Parker! Where’s the rest of your rent?”

You force a smile to mask the spike of irritation. This harpy is going to be the death of you. You clear your throat to help prevent your ire from bleeding out into your tone.

“Right here, Donna. I get my pay on Saturdays.”

“Not my problem. Rent is due in full on the first. Today is the third.”

“I tried paying you last Saturday, but you-”

“The first, you stupid child. Not Before. Not after.”

“Yes Donna, I know. I’m sorry, I needed to replace a flat tire an-.”

“I don’t want to hear your excuses. Just pay the rest of your rent and get out of my sight. You worthless leech, can’t even follow basic instructions.”

You press your lips into a tighter line to keep yourself from screaming at the horrid bat. It was best to bite your tongue and get the interaction over and done with as quick as you could. You pull out your wallet and hand over four bills. It was nice while it lasted.

Donna snatched the money from you and promptly counted it. Once satisfied, she took a long drag off her cigarette. She ordered you to leave while smoke seeped out of her mouth like a dragon.

You didn’t need to be told twice. You hurried off to your apartment, climbing the stairs to the second floor and making a beeline for your door at the end of the hall.

You shut the door, leaning against it and breathed out a deep breath. After calming yourself some, you set your keys on the counter by the door and step further into your little abode.

You make your way back to the small living room and crash on the dingy brown love-seat, tossing your phone onto the stained coffee table. You lean back and stare at the ceiling. A boring white painted over heavy popcorn texture, collecting all kinds of dust. You close your eyes and let your mind wander, wanting to squeeze some relaxation time out of the rest of the day. Too bad your phone rang.

Sam called to tell you they were on their way with the cat. You told them to be careful and not let Donna see them on the off chance that she hadn’t left for the bar yet. Sam, however, brushed aside your concerns and told you not to be so worried. You pinched the bridge of your nose and groaned at that. Sam wasn’t the one that had to deal with Donna and hopefully never will.

It wasn’t until a long while later that there was a knock at your front door. A quick check through the peephole showed you Sam was on the other side with a backpack and pet carrier. You open the door and hurry them inside. Sam stepped in, stopping in the space between the kitchen and living area, and looked over the place.

“Wow. This place is shitty.”

“Thanks, hadn’t noticed.”

Sam set the carrier down on your couch, and the cat inside growled in a low tone. Sam took off their backpack next and handed that one over to you.

“Here’s all of Rigel’s things; food, bowls, litter box, toys. I’ll be back in town to get the last of my stuff on the sixteenth, and I’ll pay you then.”

“I thought we agreed half now and half when you got back?”

“It’ll be easier to just pay you all at once.”

You drum your fingers on your thigh and let out a sigh. “Alright, fine. It will be nice to get two hundred dollars all at once.”

“See! You fuss over the smallest things.”

You change the topic by offering Sam something to drink but they declined. Sam still needed to pack up a few more boxes before the end of the night. You nod and give a small wave goodbye, only for Sam to pull you into a hug. Your muscles tense up, but you did your best to return Sam’s sudden hug.

There was a unique funk around Sam that made the hug even more challenging to bear. An overly strong lavender tried and failed to cover some mix of sweat and burnt coffee. Sam left shortly after, telling you to just call them should you need anything. You nodded and waved them off.

Once they left, you turn to Rigel stuck in his carrier. His hissing got louder the closer you got to the carrier, and was full on slashing at the front when you reached down to open it.

You recoil and let him be for the moment, choosing to set up his things in the bathroom instead. While your bathroom was on the smaller side, it seemed big enough for one cat to stay in. You pack up all the various toiletries that a bored cat might knock down and set out Rigel’s things. Litter box in the corner across from the shower stall, while his food and water were against the opposite wall between the door and the sink.

With that set up you go get the carrier. You did your best not to jostle it too much, but Rigel wasn’t pleased and let you know. He let out some of the most chilling demonic screeches as he knocked against the fabric carrier, desperate to break loose and slaughter you. You set the carrier down in the closet, closing one of the bi-fold doors so he had a dark corner to hide in. You braced yourself with a few steadying breaths before swiftly unzipping the front. Once open, you pull your hand back and leave the bathroom completely, making sure the door shut behind you.

You did your best to salvage the rest of your night, enjoying your cup of noodles while watching a movie. It was a B-Movie slasher about a supernatural being going on a killing spree in Las Vegas. And this somehow led to the being going to space in the next film. Overall, it was pretty cheesy, but got a few laughs from you.

Soon you had to wrap things up and head to bed. You sneak into the bathroom to swipe your toothbrush and clean them at the kitchen sink that night, and probably for the next two weeks. With a yawn and a stretch you change into sleepwear and crawl into your bed.

Sleep didn’t come to you easily, but it wasn’t a night full of endless tossing and turning, either. The rest you got didn’t feel like enough, as the buzzing of your alarm woke you too early for your liking.

You sat up rubbing your eyes and checked your phone for the time. The small screen on the back of the thin flip phone showed the time was seven o’ two. You heave out a sigh and pull the warm covers off.

While your body went through the motions of your morning routine, your mind wandered back to the images you saw in your dream. An island floated in the middle of a dark ocean with storm clouds rumbling high above. The cold wet sand pricked against your bare feet like needles, yet you kept on walking. You had found yourself on a rickety dock at least fifteen feet above the violent waves below. There was nothing around you, but you knew you weren’t alone. Down below, lurking beneath the water, two hungry orbs of blue glared up at you, waiting. Expecting. When you didn’t move from your perch, the beast thrashed at the pillars of the dock. You lost your footing and tumbled down to the abyss.

You shook your head, forcing your thoughts to jump back to the present. Chills ran down your spine as the nightmare crawled around in the back of your mind, clawing its way forward. You stuffed it as far back as possible and carried on with your morning.

You soon were out the door and on your way to work. You grip the toilet paper wrapped over your forearm, letting the lines of blood soak into it so it can better rest on your arm. Rigel had given you a few nasty scratches when you got him fresh water, the ungrateful bastard. At least there’s a first aid kit at work.

The bell above the door chimed as you looked at the time on your phone. The damn cat almost made you late for work. You make your way to the back room to grab your apron, only to bump into a man turning the corner. It took a second to get your bearings and notice you ran right into Mr. Turner.

“Oh shit. Sorry, sir.”

He laughed and waved you off. “Morning Cass, see you’re in a hurry.”

“Ah- no, well, kinda. I hit every red light getting here and-”

“You’re fine, don’t worry. No need to rush. Just get your apron and I’ll introduce you to the new guy.”

You nod and scurry back to grab the green apron. It hung by itself on the hooks, speckled in paint and smudges. By that point the thing was overdue to get tossed and replaced, but the same thing would end up happening to the next apron.

You throw it on and tie it behind yourself before going out to the sales floor. Mr. Turner stood next to a man younger than himself but older than you. The boss was the first to notice you and gave another wave. “There they are.”

The new guy turned and flashed you a wide smile, showing off straight white teeth in a hollow smile. Tamping down the disquiet, you force yourself to offer a smile in return. The man strode up to you and held out a hand. “Great to meet you, I’m Brandon! Mr. Turner was just telling me how great of a worker you are-” He squinted at your apron before going back to that fake smile- “Art. Interesting name.”

“Thanks,” you said, and hesitated a moment before taking his hand for a brief shake. On contact that strange buzz of discomfort shot from your palm through the rest of your arm. Once your hand was free, you fight the urge to rub off the non-existent traces of him. There wasn’t anything there, nothing real, and you knew that, but more than anything you wanted that feeling gone and the only way for it to leave was to brush it off. Why did people have to insist on handshakes, just needless physical contact with strangers? It’s stupid, and you hated it.

For the first half of your shift the boss had you go over the day-to-day tasks with Brandon. There were few customers in the store that Sunday morning, so you mostly had the guy pull forward merchandise and clean some shelves. Brandon did the tasks, but they all came with questions. Most of the questions were mundane things about the products stocked, store hours, and what times saw the most customers. The problem came when Brandon veered his questions towards you personally.

“So, is Art short for anything?”

“Artemis.”

Your answer was short and pointed. You already didn’t like that he was the type to read name tags over asking for someone’s name.

“Interesting. So you from around here?”

A shiver shot through you, and you’re quick to stop that line of questions. You ignore the question entirely, instead cutting in to tell him to finish front-facing the aisle while you go check on Mr. Turner.

The day dragged on until finally getting to your lunch break. Brandon, thankfully, caught on that you weren’t one to disclose much about yourself to a new face. However, that didn’t make the morning smooth sailing. You grab your lunch and speed off to the cemetery, eager to get a break from Brandon.

Your usual bench was free, and you took your place to enjoy lunch. Munching on your meal, you take in the sights, finding a serenity in the quiet. The sun shined brightly, causing some of the glossier headstones to reflect the rays. You hum to yourself and scan over the graveyard. To your surprise, you spotted someone in the far corner opposite you. Your brows furrowed, perplexed by the other. You watched the figure, curious of what they’re doing.

They wandered from gravestone to gravestone, kicking at the earth with hands stuffed into pockets. The build of the figure suggested a man, and one dressed in monochrome. You squint your eyes at them making sure you weren’t mistaken; but no, that was the same bizarre suit you saw a man wearing the day prior.

You keep your gaze fixed on him, wanting to figure out why he might be here a second day in a row visiting completely different graves. Did the man simply like to visit graveyards and have a limited wardrobe? If so, you didn’t want to comment on the matter out of fear of shattering the glass house.

You ate lunch with glances at the man. You wanted to piece together why he might be there. He wasn’t mourning; he moved from one grave to the next as if searching for something. The man in the weird suit went down one row of graves, heading away from you, only to hit the end and turn back for the next row.

You forced yourself to not look at him for fear of getting caught. But your curiosity burned, and you chanced a look up. He didn’t notice you, too engrossed in whatever he was doing. Embolden by that, you continue to munch away at your food and sneak glances at him. That is, until you swallowed wrong and went into a coughing fit.

You got your breathing under control a minute later and checked to see if he noticed. And oh boy, did he notice. The man was staring straight at you. It was awkward enough to get caught looking, but you noticed the man closing the gap between you two. He was still at the far end with well over two hundred feet between you, but you didn’t want to stick around and have that plummet to single digits.

Nope. You scoop up your belongings and speed-walk straight back to the store. You didn’t even chance a look behind you. Eyes forward and keep moving. You weren’t sure if he was actually still following; you didn’t hear any footsteps behind you. So that seemed like a good sign.

You blew past the door, bell violently chiming, and you made a beeline for the back. Your heart pounded against your ribs, wanting to break free and make a run for it. You take quick breaths, forcing the next to be longer than the last to get yourself to calm down. In the middle of collecting yourself, Mr. Turner walked into the back area with worry knitted on his brow.

“Cass, you alright? What’s wrong?”

“Is there a man in a striped suit in the store?”

He gave you a puzzled look, but left to do a sweep of the store. He came back half a minute later, shaking his head. “No, no one’s in the store dressed like that. What happened?”

“Nothing really. I just saw him in the cemetery and it looked like he was starting to follow me.”

He frowned. “Well, you just come to me if any creep is giving you a hard time. I’ll knock his teeth out for you.”

You manage a smile and nod. You take a few more breaths to calm down before you grab your apron. Things were going to be okay. The guy might not have even seen what store you went into. Heck, that guy probably didn’t even leave the cemetery. And even if he did, Mr. Turner was there to help you out of a tight spot. You smile a little brighter and step out onto the sales floor where you see the stripe suit guy looking at paint chips.

A strangled scream catches in your throat. You step back, dipping back into the employee’s only area of the store before he could see you. What the Hell were you going to do now? You couldn’t hide back there all day.

You push aside the fabric curtain dividing the sales floor from the back, and get a look at the man. With him much closer, you could see his green hair and the distressed look of his suit. He leaned forward, looking over the paint colors. Maybe he didn’t know you were back there. If so, you could wait in the back for a few minutes for him to just leave.

You close the curtain and slip your hands into your apron pockets. Your fingers brush over cool metal, and your thumb flicks up the slider on the side. It wasn’t much, but it was certainly better than nothing. Box cutter in hand, you look back out.

The stranger stayed put in front of the paint colors. You take a shallow breath, prepping yourself to go out. In the middle of psyching yourself up, you see Brandon wander over to the paint section. Hope bubbles up in you. The new guy can take care of him for you.

Brandon scanned over the section. He pushed down some color chips, looked over the desk before looking your way.

“Art! There you are.”

Brandon’s voice bellowed in the small store, not only earning a squeak from you but also causing the stranger to turn and look. You yank the curtain closed, hoping the man in the monochrome stripes didn’t get a good look at you.

Brandon parted the curtain a moment later and looked you over with knit brows and lips in a thin line. “Art, what are you doing back here? I don’t think it looks very professional for an employee to skulk around in the back all day.”

“The guy over at paint followed me from the cemetery.”

Brandon raised a brow at you. “There aren’t any customers in the store, and certainly not in paint, I would have seen them.” He pulled open the curtain with a flourish to reveal the man standing just on the other side. “See, no one’s there.”

Your eyes dart between the idiot holding back the curtain and the green-haired man tilting his head some with a grin plastered on his face. Thought processing came to a crawl as you tried making sense of what you were seeing. Your gaze lands on Brandon in the end.

“You don’t see anyone there?”

He rolled his eyes and looked back out to the sales floor. He then looked back at you with brows knitted further. “No, there’s no one there, Artemis. Perhaps you should stop taking your lunches in the cemetery if they’re just going to put scary thoughts in your head.”

Brandon frowned at you before stepping out onto the sales floor, going right through the man in the striped suit. He stopped to shiver, only to keep walking a second later. Once he left, your wide eyes landed on the man still standing there, still grinning and showing off sharp yellowed teeth.

“Hi there!”

Nope. Nope nope nope. You grab your box cutter and pull it out to point at the guy. And without a word you push aside the curtain more and go around the man. The man whined at your action and followed you.

“Come on babes! Don’t ignore me, I know you can see me!”

You keep walking, heading straight for Mr. Turner. He turns to you at your approach and the small smile fades from his face. “Cass? What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

The gravelly laugh behind you sent shivers down your spine. You did your best to shake off the feeling and forced a smile.

“I’m not feeling too good. I was hoping I could go home early today.”

His lips sink further into a frown, but he gave you a nod. “It’s fine by me. But what about that man you were talking about that followed you from the cemetery? Are you going to be okay?”

The man behind you continued to laugh. You tighten your hands into fists, the metal of the box cutter pressing hard into the flesh of your hand.

“Yeah, I’ll be okay Mr. Turner. See you tomorrow.”

He nodded, and you handed over your apron while keeping the box cutter in hand. You offer one last quick goodbye and head out the door, the bell only chiming once. You march down the sidewalk and hear the strange man continuing to talk.

“So, babes, where are we heading?”

You pause at your car door. You take a few quick breaths and finally respond to this... person. “I’m going home. I’m obviously not feeling well and seeing things that aren’t there.”

You slip into your car and promptly lock all the doors. You heave a sigh and lean against the steering wheel as your brain sorts through all this nonsense. A groan rumbles in your throat and you lean back in your seat. In your peripheral, the man in the striped suit sat in your passenger seat sporting a sharp grin. Well shit.

#beetlejuice #beetlejuice x reader #musical beetlejuice x reader #roses and styx #my writing

[stomp-that-ho-regard]

Retcon

noun

(in a film, television series, or other fictional work) a piece of new information that imposes a different interpretation on previously described events, typically used to facilitate a dramatic plot shift or account for an inconsistency.

verb

revise (an aspect of a fictional work) retrospectively, typically by introducing a piece of new information that imposes a different interpretation on previously described events.

Retroactive Continuity

Reframing past events to serve a current plot need. [...] In its most basic form, this is any plot point that was not intended from the beginning. [...]

Post-hiatus C2, and the Great Retcon... 

(The retconning really started with the playlists, but we’ll come back to those.)

First, some context:

SDCC (July ‘18) - Marisha was asked directly about Beau and Yasha and if she and Ashley had discussed it. “After the first few times that I kinda put the moves on her, we were at break, and I could sense that Ashley was wanting to ask me something. And she was like, ‘Hey, I’m just curious... is Beau- ’ And at that exact moment someone’s like, ‘Yo Ashley! We gotta go! We gotta get on stage!’ And I was like, ‘Bye!’” Then Brian asked, “And you haven’t had a further conversation about it?” Marisha said, “Nope!”

(Seven months into the campaign, and no discussions. Hmm.)

NYCC (Oct. ‘18) - Marisha was asked about who would Beau get flustered over if they ever flirted back, and yes, she said Yasha and laughed, but then said, “It’s like throwing pebbles at a brick wall.” Meaning, she was putting stuff out there and not getting anything back. (And, she really wasn’t. I still remember when a major portion of the fandom, including the diehard shippers [of which I was one at the time], weren’t sure if Ashley was even interested in this. More than that, it wasn’t until the Zuala reveal, that the fandom and the players found out for certain that Yasha was actually into women.) 

(To me, Marisha’s answer here also suggests that at this point, there were still no discussions.)

Talks Machina for ep61 (May ‘19) - Marisha was asked ‘What was going through Beau's mind when Yasha revealed her past with Zuala? Has this changed any feelings Beau might have? Or has Beau's character growth allowed her to mature a little more with regards to her feelings about Yasha?’ Which Marisha instantly pegged as a shipping question. And she said, “I’m trying to figure out a way to answer this to not ruin everyone’s internal canon, in their brains. I don’t want people to overestimate Beau’s intentions towards Yasha. But then also, is that on me? Have I been leading everybody on?”

So, you had all of that, all the way up to ep61.

None of this indicates that ‘it’s been happening since ep1′ or that it’s ‘the slowest of slow burns.’ In fact, it shuts that down completely.

Moving forward to the Beau and Fjord convo (ep108)...

Marisha suddenly having Beau say “There was something about Yasha from the moment that I saw her”. She’s retrospectively attempting to give that moment more weight, when (based on the examples above) we know that the over-the-top flirting was just for fun. And truthfully, she really wasn’t flirting with Yasha any differently than she was flirting with any hot female NPC the party crossed paths with.

And now it’s clear that that one line she said is the reason why BY shippers have suddenly clung on to the idea that “It’s been happening since episode one! SLOooOowBuUuuUrn!!!!!” when its clear that it was not planned. (Not before the hiatus-from-hell, anyway.)

Then Marisha having Beau go from describing Jester as “She's fun. She makes me laugh. I like her ridiculous plans. I think she's complicated and layered.” to “It’s easy to lust after her”. I’ll direct you to Talks for ep85. After Marisha had mentioned that it was a bunch of little things that build, and then pinpointed a few of them, Brian tried to make a joke and said “So you’re saying it’s been more a series, than just one moment that you can point to and say ‘It was right here when I went, let’s fuck!’” Marisha specifically countered that with “It’s not even about 'let’s fuck’. It’s nothing sexual in this case.” (Having her backpedal on this so heavily was such a huge gut punch and was the thing that wholly soured everything for me.)

There were so many better, more delicate ways Marisha could’ve had Beau examine/come to grips with her feelings for both women, but all the reduction and saying they were ‘transferable’ was nothing short of insulting.

On that same Talks episode, Marisha also said this: “Going into this campaign all of us were like, ‘No relationships!’ I didn’t want it! I didn’t ask for this!”, while smiling. What this shows me is that she was thinking of a relationship in regards to Beau’s feelings for Jester. As if she was maybe even anticipating this culminating into something? Why even mention relationships at all if this was nothing serious and was always meant to fall by the wayside?

Brian then followed up with, “In my opinion, as a viewer, Beau’s someone who seems to be on the search for innocence. Whether innocence lost or just innocence in general. And to me it makes sense that you would be attracted to someone who exudes genuine and sort of intrinsic innocence.” Marisha replied with “Fairly astute.”

The next question was, ‘Beau has taken a pretty casual, no-strings-attached approach toward sex and relationships so far. How do her feelings for Jester compare to her previous romantic flings?’ Marisha answered immediately and very seriously with, “Noncomparable. It’s more than that.” She wasn’t playing coy and it didn’t take her a century to find the words. She didn’t even have to think about it. Succinct and direct.

How did all of that ‘organically’ disappear completely, after only 14 episodes?

(Everything felt more genuine back then, because it seemed like Marisha was going where the character was taking her, and not where she thought the character should be going.)

Post-hiatus, everyone and their mother are acting like BY is some epic romance-of-the-ages that was all mapped out, and like Beau having feelings for Jester was just some sort of temporary curveball. That Beau was confused, or was just missing Yasha and projected onto Jester. 

That’s really fucked up no matter how you try to justify it. I honestly don’t think I’ve ever seen another piece of media backpedal this hard, and this callously.

None of that squares with what we were shown or with what we were told. Until, everybody made a hard pivot and now they've done (and continue to) do everything they can to rewrite campaign history, even though we have plenty of footage that contradicts the new ‘company line’.

Now, where the retconning truly began, with the playlists...

Remember the first round of playlists? Those were released randomly, whenever the cast felt like posting them. I also don’t remember there being announcements every time one came out either.

This time though, they had a fixed schedule, complete with official twitter announcements. As they started to just get back into the swing of things, Yasha’s playlist was released right after the first episode back.

So, right out of the gate, they had to make sure they started to drill home a certain mindset for viewers. That’s why Yasha had a song called ‘Let Me Hold You’. (Lo and behold, a few episodes in, Beau randomly asks Yasha to hold her.)  A few weeks later, Beau’s playlist was released, and there was a song with the caption saying ‘Ultimately, all she really wants is someone to hold, and someone to hold her’. (But sure, no planning here! The wording is just a total coincidence, folks!)  

The other song, directly about Yasha, mentions ‘a crush forged in battle’ (ok), and ‘awkward flirtations’ (???). Yasha never openly flirted with Beau before the hiatus, until maybe right after the Obann arc, in a very vague way.

On Beau’s playlist, there’s nothing about Jester. The one track that mentions her is actually about Artagan. Which, after all they’ve been through together, is fucking ridiculous no matter how you slice it.

In addition to that, Marisha had made Beau’s time in Kamordah (ep92/e93), and the incidents with her family and the Hag, about the group now, not about Jester, fully contradicting her own reiterated words that ‘Jester saved Beau’.

When Beau was talking to her dad, reverting back to her old self and getting all riled up, Jester helped her in that moment, and saved her. Yes, the group was very supportive, and yes, Yasha said something to him before they left the house (that Beau was out of earshot for by the way), but Jester was Beau’s rock throughout that whole thing. 

With the Hag, when the group was having a hard time coming up with a solution, and they realized they might actually lose Beau, Jester stepped up and took control of the situation. She, single-handedly, saved Beau/the group from the Hag. And with that, Jester also became Beau’s hero.

In both instances, Marisha thanked Laura/Jester. First on Talks for ep92 with both of them on it. She reiterated, “You saved me. You saved Beau.” Then on Twitter after ep93 with, “Still processing last night. Saved by a cupcake? Eh - saved by @LauraBaileyVO ... again.” 

But now suddenly, it’s the group. Just the group? 

Now, don’t get me wrong. The entire party showing Beau support was incredibly important. The M9 showed her that they value her, that she’s important to them. It solidified the theme of ‘found family’, which was beautiful. But, to not also highlight how crucial Jester was in all of this, after making such a big deal about it? 

That is very deliberate retconning of some hugely important, highly emotional moments for Beau that directly involved Jester.

Any of Beau’s organic and genuine connection with Jester (which encompasses their deep friendship as well as Beau’s romantic feelings) has been massively reduced (and now erased), specifically to prop up a supposed ‘deep’ connection with someone else that was barely ever there, is still barely there, and has no actual depth at all.

Case in point, the BY date (ep126) showcased this fact to the most extreme degree...

Yasha’s infamous line: “I fell in love with you in Kamordah.” So, Yasha literally watched Beau relive her childhood trauma, and caught feelings during it. I’m not wrong in thinking that that’s just a little disturbing, am I? Also, if that’s the moment she supposedly fell for her, why did she not offer her any form of help? I mean, besides that one sweet moment with TJ, the entire time Beau was in Kamordah, she was the most broken down she’d ever been and needed some real comfort, which is something Yasha did not give her. (Jester did though. In spades.)

So, on multiple levels, this seems highly out-of-place. 

Several people have said that that line was not thought through. In my opinion, it actually was thought through and was only said specifically to have viewers completely dismiss everything else that happened in the Kamordah episodes. Despite the FACT that Beau and Yasha barely interacted during those episodes, they have now stripped down the party’s experience there, and twisted it into a giant BY shipping moment. (Further feeding into the retcon.)

Their ‘trip down memory lane’ was laughable. Most of the things that were mentioned, Yasha wasn’t even around for. 

Gee, remember when the cast was actually good at separating what they knew from what their character knew? When you start injecting what you know into your character (who isn’t supposed to know, because they literally were not physically there), you are metagaming. 

The entire date was one big metagaming bonanza. And it had to be, or else they would’ve had nothing to talk about. There is not one thing they have to call their own. To people who don’t have BY tunnel vision, it was made glaringly obvious that they have nothing in common and their dynamic is fairly shallow. Meanwhile, the rest of the cast are sitting there watching this unfold, smiling and nodding along as if it all makes perfect sense and isn’t utterly ridiculous. (And I’m sitting here wondering when I got shunted into the Twilight Zone.)

The shallowness holds true for FJ as well. Aside from both of them being from the Menagerie Coast, what exactly do they have in common?

While Fjord has grown as a character, as far as Jester goes, he still does not seem to have the capacity to fully understand her as a person, or fully respect her abilities/emotional strength/intelligence. He doubted her often, which led to Jester getting irritated with him several times over the course of at least the last third of the pre-hiatus episodes. He even continued to doubt her judgment (in regards to the Traveler) in the post-hiatus Rumblecusp episodes. But hey, they’ve kissed now (ep118) so all of that gets wiped clean, and he’s being touted as her ultimate romantic soulmate who’s oh-so-perfect for her.

For fuck’s sake, why does that sound like something pulled right out of a CW show?

(I'm convinced that the only reason FJ is ‘popular’ is because the shippers have projected Travis and Laura’s real-life marriage onto the characters. If Fjord and Jester were played by different people, or Travis and Laura were not together, people would realize how paper-thin and half-assed this pairing is and hardly anyone would care about it.) 

Beau and Jester had developed the deepest, most genuine friendship and overall dynamic in the entire party, that should have absolutely been given the chance to be explored further. They constructed a pretty solid foundation that could have easily been built upon, and the fact that it’s been unceremoniously pulverized and snuffed out in favor of such overwhelming tepidity and flavorlessness will never not infuriate me.

Finally, to finish this off, I will say with my whole chest, that that is one of many nasty, rotten patterns that I’ve seen far too much of in all kinds of scripted media, which is...

Not wanting to commit to the thing that’s actually growing organically, because it’ll ruffle too many feathers. It’s too inconvenient. It gets in the way. Because of course, nobody wants to do that. Nobody wants to take a risk, or you know, actually follow where the natural fucking chemistry is taking you. Of course not! Heaven forbid, we go down a different road! You have to go with what’s ‘expected’, no matter what, at the great expense of something new that’s come along that’s clearly better. Even when what’s expected is hollow as fuck and doesn’t make sense anymore, because characters have grown and dynamics have changed, they decide to dig their heels in with the most fanservice-y options instead.

Yet this is UNSCRIPTED media. A D&D campaign, that’s supposed to be mostly improvised. D&D, that’s all about taking chances/going with your gut/making bold choices/etc., from people who have claimed up and down that they “like to see things play out at the table”.

So why are those same disingenuous patterns being utilized here too?

One of the big reasons I got into CR was because I naively believed that because the format was different, that the storytelling would be different. I thought I wouldn’t have to worry about running into this nonsense here. That I wouldn’t have to worry about getting bullshitted, jerked around, and having my intelligence insulted left and right, but alas, here we are.

In conclusion...  [TL;DR, kinda?]

Reframing past events (between B & J, and B & Y) to serve a current plot need (railroading BY):                                                                                      

Beau playlist ignores Jester’s importance to what transpired in Kamordah. (minimizing/erasure)

Beau playlist doesn’t acknowledge/hint at Beau’s feelings for Jester. (total erasure. could have at least included a song about feelings being lost, or being confused about feelings for a friend, but Marisha took the cowardly route, and didn’t bother mentioning it at all.)

Beau playlist claims that Beau and Yasha have both been flirting forever. (easily debunked by session footage.)

In her conversation with Fjord, Beau says, “There was something about Yasha from the moment I saw her”. (it was just about hooking up then, and stayed that way for a majority of the campaign. This line suggests that Beau has had ‘deeper feelings’ for and/or has been ‘in love’ with Yasha since the first episode, that this was all intentional build-up, which again, is easily debunked by session footage, panels, and TM.)

In her conversation with Fjord, Beau says, “It’s easy to lust after her.” (minimizing/erasure/twisting of Beau’s feelings for Jester, which Marisha had previously stated were ‘noncomparable’ , ‘more than that’, and that her attraction is ‘nothing sexual in this case.’)

This isn’t a fucking conspiracy theory. This is plain evidence of a planned retcon.

#op #super long post #uber rant #happy thursday! ;) #beaujester #i wrote this up back in december but didn't have the energy to finish it until now #it got longer as i went #guess i still have a lot of bitching left in me lol #that's what happens when you feel like you've been getting kicked in the teeth for nine months

[valdomarx]

Entry, Descent and Landing

Stargate Atlantis, McKay/Sheppard, time loop, 6k, rated M

Also on AO3

-

“The gate’s not working,” Rodney huffs, entering the mess with a scowl on his face. He's clearly personally offended by this turn of events.

“Eh, I’m sure you’ll fix it.” John currently has more pressing issues to consider, like whether he can reasonably have fruit loops for lunch or whether he should eat some vegetables like an adult.

He picks up the fruit loops.

“I’m serious!” Rodney is all fidgety, talking and waving his hands instead of eating, and that’s never a good sign. “There’s something very wrong with it, and I have no idea why.”

John raises an eyebrow. It’s not often that McKay admits there���s something he doesn’t understand. And without the gate, they are vulnerable.

Regretfully, he puts the fruit loops back. “Alright. Why don’t you show me what the problem is?”

-

The gate will accept an address, and it spins and dials as normal. But when it should open a wormhole with a whoosh and a ripple of blue light, it simply stops dead. The lights fade out and it shuts itself off.

Huh.

“It’s been like this since we tried to dial New Athos for a check in.” A frown creases Rodney’s forehead. “Hand me that scanner, will you?”

-

They spend the day poking and prodding at the gate and the control consoles - or, more accurately, Rodney pokes and John swings his legs off the side of the console and provides unhelpful but, he thinks, amusing commentary - but there’s nothing to indicate a problem. No fried circuits, no missing components, none of the usual error warnings which appear when the gate runs into a problem. It just… doesn’t work.

They work through the afternoon, and by the time eight p.m. rolls around John is ready to call it a night and start again tomorrow. But before he can suggest they get some dinner, the gate whirs to life and begins to dial.

“Did you do that?” he asks Rodney, but he already knows the answer is no by the look of confusion on Rodney’s face.

The gate spins as if to dial but it doesn’t connect. It merely sits there, illuminated but inactive, and then -

-

John wakes up in his quarters.

That’s weird. He’s disoriented, and woozy, and he feels a headache creeping at the back of his skull.

He shakes it off. He probably just needs some food. He heads to the mess and is sitting down to eat when -

“The gate’s not working,” Rodney huffs.

John squints at him. “Again?”

“What do you mean, again?” Rodney waves him aside impatiently. “There’s something very wrong with it, and I have no idea why.”

A cold chill settles at the bottom of John’s stomach. “I know, Rodney. We had this conversation yesterday.”

“What are you talking about? Of course we didn’t. The gate only stopped working today.”

-

Rodney insists that he has no memory of the gate breaking, and neither does anyone else they talk to. It's like the previous day has simply disappeared.

The more he insists that he remembers it, the more Rodney turns from dismissive to concerned, until he marches him down to see Carson and okay, that's not the worst idea under the circumstances.

Carson checks him over, determines he's physically fine, and tells him it's probably just déjà vu. But that can't be right. It was so real.

Rodney keeps shooting him these worried looks, and that's definitely not helping. So he brushes it off and suggests they get back to fixing the gate. It is, after all, still broken.

They spend another few hours on that, opening up the consoles in the gate room and looking for any faulty hardware. Soon enough it's dinner time, and he's going to suggest heading to the mess when the gate spins up again, and oh shit -

-

He wakes up in his quarters. He frantically scrambles for his watch and sees that it reads two p.m.

This is definitely not déjà vu.

He heads straight to the gate room. The gate techs are antsy.

"Sheppard, you're here, good." Rodney enters, a tablet tucked under one arm. “We've got a problem. The gate’s not working."

-

They try to fix the gate again, with no more success than the last two attempts. John keeps checking his watch.

Maybe it's different now. Maybe he's changed enough to stop the day repeating.

At exactly right p.m., his sunny, perhaps delusional, optimism is shattered.

The gate starts dialing.

-

He wakes up in his quarters.

He sends Rodney off to consult with Zelenka and takes matters into his own hands.

He tries everything he can think of to dial the gate - dialing different addresses, dialing it at different times, even removing and replacing the control crystal in his famed “turn it off and turn it on again” approach to computer repair - but nothing works.

He tries taking a puddle jumper and flying out to the mainland, and into space, and as far around the planet as he can get. No matter how far he travels, at exactly eight p.m. he resets and wakes up back in his quarters.

Six hours is simply not enough time to solve whatever the hell is going on here

He tries explaining his situation to Elizabeth, to Teyla and Ronon, to Lorne, to Carson. Even when people are willing to entertain the notion of a time loop, no one knows how to address the problem, let alone suggest a solution. At best, they seem to be humoring him. At worst, they seem to think it’s his apparently inevitable slide into paranoia.

After trying everyone on the base he has even a passing relationship with, he gives up telling anyone. They can’t help him.

-

He overrides the city’s power usage limits and tries to dial up Earth. The gate still won’t dial, and he overloads the ZPM, and the entire city is plunged into darkness.

-

He wakes up in his quarters.

He used to love it here, his own little corner of the strange place that is his home. Now it feels like a prison.

-

He tries to make contact with the Athosians, or with the Manarians, or even with the Genii. But without the gate, his radio transmissions will take years to reach them. He sits by the radio anyway, listening to the crackling static and waiting for a reply he knows will never come.

-

Maybe he's trapped in a virtual reality, or his mind is being probed by aliens. It wouldn't be the first time.

Maybe none of this is real.

-

He stands on one of the city’s most distant piers, staring out into the ocean. It’s quiet here, now he’s turned off his radio and tweaked the lifesigns detector so it can’t track him. He watches the waves, the same today as they were yesterday, and the day before, and the day before that. He considers his options.

-

He puts a gun to his temple and counts down from five.

He wakes up in his quarters.

-

He bangs on the lab door and tries one more time to convince Rodney to help him.

“A time loop is not impossible,” he grits out. “It happened at the SGC.” He knows Rodney has read the file.

“That’s because there was an Ancient artifact involved.” Rodney sounds haughty. “Have you touched any strange Ancient artifacts recently, Colonel?”

John breathes between clenched teeth and shakes his head.

“So. Time just spontaneously started resetting itself, did it?”

“How should I know? All I know is that I have woken up in my quarters a hundred times by now, and every day at eight p.m. the loop resets itself.”

“Why are you the only one this is happening to?”

“I don’t know!” he yells. “I have no idea what terrible sin I’m being punished for here! I’ve made my share of mistakes in my life, but nothing that deserves this.”

Rodney stops moving and looks at him -- really looks.

“Jesus, Sheppard.” Rodney’s brow creases. “You’re not okay, are you?”

John slumps. He can’t summon the energy to deny it. “Not even remotely.”

For some reason, this seems to be what pushes Rodney into taking him seriously. He nods, once, sharply. “What can I do to help?”

He looks at his watch. It’s ten minutes to eight.

“Tell me a secret,” he says.

Rodney gives him a disdainful look. “What is this, a tween girls’ slumber party?”

He grits his teeth. “I spent the entire day trying to convince you what’s happening to me is real. I don’t have time to do that every loop. I need you to tell me something no one else knows, so next time I can convince you I’m not crazy or playing around and we can fix this.”

He sees Rodney’s mind working. He can tell he knows John is right and he’s considering options of what to tell him: details about his childhood, his research, his time here on Atlantis, and discarding each one. For all his faults, Rodney does not dissemble. His life is an open book, and for this to work John needs to know something truly private.

“Alright,” Rodney says eventually. He tilts his chin up and straightens his shoulders like he’s bracing himself for incoming fire. “When I was fifteen, there was a boy at school a couple of years older than me. His name was Mikey Haynes.”

-

“Have you touched any strange Ancient artifacts recently, Colonel?” Rodney asks with the same look of superiority he always has. “Because that’s the only way-”

“McKay,” he interrupts.

“- and why would you be the only one affected, that doesn’t make sense-”

“Rodney!”

Rodney stops. Something in the tone of his voice has broken through.

“I know about Mikey Haynes,” he says.

Rodney goes very pale and John can feel the anxiety radiating off him in waves.

“How do you know that name?” his voice is barely above a whisper.

“Because you told me, Rodney. In the last loop.”

For a few seconds Rodney stares at him, eyes wild and arms wrapped protectively around his chest. Eventually he gives one, sharp nod.

“Alright. You’re stuck in a time loop. What are we going to do about it?”

-

He has that conversation with Rodney every single loop. It is, without exception, the worst part of each one. Even feeling himself die wasn’t this awful.

-

He and Rodney have run every test they can think of. He’s been subjected to medical tests and genetic tests, they’ve scanned him for nanites and viruses and alien mind control, and they’ve turned up nothing. He is, by all accounts, completely healthy -- other than the fact he’s reliving the same six hours over and over and over and over.

“Maybe the problem isn’t with me,” he says. He chews over the idea and it seems plausible. “Maybe the problem is with the city.”

“What?”

“What if I’m not the one being looped through time? What if you are, and I’m the only one who’s aware of it?”

“So you’re sane and everyone else is crazy?”

“Yes.” He folds his arms over his chest. “Maybe my ATA gene gives me some protection against the effect, I don’t know.”

“Your magic genetics strike again.”

He ignores the griping. “If I’m right, the problem is even worse than I thought. The whole city, even the whole planet could be stuck in the loop. What’s happening to our allies while we’re stuck? How far have the Wraith advanced across this galaxy without us to keep them in check.”

Rodney swallows, the gravity of the situation finally hitting him.

“There must be a clue in the city sensors,” he says, pushing bits of drone aside to access the whiteboard in his lab. “If the reset is at the same time, there might be a preceding energy burst we can detect.”

“What good will that do?” John is too tired to think straight. “I know when the loop is going to reset.”

“Because if we know what type of energy it is, we can understand what’s causing it.”

John throws up his hands. Sure, why not. It's not like he's in a hurry or anything.

Rodney pokes through the sensor data, making little hmm noises which he finds unreasonably aggravating.

“See!” Rodney has his smuggest expression on, the one that simultaneously says I told you so and I know you find me charming. “Here, just before the gate failed to connect, there’s a small anomaly in the readings. It looks like… Interesting. It looks like ionizing radiation.”

“What does that mean?”

Rodney’s brow creases. “I’m not sure. There’s a spike of gamma and X-rays as the gate tries to connect. But I have no idea what the source is.”

John barely has time to let out a frustrated breath before the loop resets.

-

He hurries back to Rodney’s lab and points him to the sensor data.

“Interesting,” Rodney says again. “It looks like ionizing radiation.”

John exhales. “Yeah. You said that last time.”

-

He doesn’t need to eat, or sleep. His body resets with every loop. And yet, his mind has frayed. He hasn’t rested in so long, his thoughts are a jumbled mess.

He takes a loop off. He goes to the gym and spars with Ronon. His muscles are fresh but his strategy is a disaster; Ronon unsurprisingly wipes the floor with him. All the same, it feels good to stretch and move; to worry about avoiding a flying elbow instead of his sorry fate for a while.

Then he has dinner with Teyla. He doesn’t know how many loops it’s been since he ate, and even though he doesn’t need the sustenance he realizes he has been missing the sensory experience of it, and the camaraderie of a shared meal.

He tells Teyla about the time loop, casually, like it’s not a big deal, and she doesn’t seem convinced he’s telling the truth but she doesn’t dismiss the possibility out of hand either, and he loves her for that.

“If that were the case,” her head tilts to one side, thoughtful, “it would be a kind of opportunity, would it not?”

He squints. Nothing about this feels opportune.

“If time were to always reset itself, you could do anything you wish, without having to consider the consequences.” She shrugs. “Many have wished for such a chance.”

Huh. He never thought about it that way before.

-

Next loop, he steals a jumper and takes it for a joyride, zipping away from Atlantis and out into the solar system.

He pulls a reckless slingshot maneuver around the third planet out and is sent hurtling toward the star at the heart of the system, traveling so fast the jumper shakes and rattles even with the inertial dampeners. Elizabeth screams at him over the comms and he flips them off.

He approaches the sun at breakneck speed and the temperature in the cabin begins to rise. He swoops low into the sun’s corona, arcs of plasma leaping up around him, even more wild and ferocious than he expected. The sensors scream out warnings about hull temperature and radiation levels and he ignores them, absorbed in the way the jumper dives and banks.

He plunges closer, seeing the star’s surface bubble and erupt, then pulls up in a wild loop and swings down closer still: through the corona and into the chromosphere, the space around him transformed into wild hues of pink, shot through with filaments of white hot gas which snap and twist around him.

In the moment before the jumper is destroyed, as alarms blare and the air rushes out through cracks in the hull, his vision is filled with the surface of the sun. It is entrancing, covered in cells of red and orange and yellow, molten and changing and blindingly, blindingly bright.

-

He records a message for his father and uploads it to the queue to be sent back to Earth. “Dad,” he begins. “I want you to tell you something, something I’ve been meaning to say for a long time. From the very bottom of my heart: Go fuck yourself.”

He knows it’ll be heard by the gate techs, if not the entire expedition. That somehow makes it even more satisfying.

-

He finds Cadman.

“You’re an explosives expert, right?”

“Technically it’s high temperature and energetic materials technology,” she grins, “but close enough.”

“Awesome. Where do you keep the good stuff?”

She raises an eyebrow.

“You know. The really fun explosives they don’t let the field teams use.”

“Oh, that good stuff. Right this way.”

They spend an afternoon testing the structural integrity of the city’s farthest piers (not as good as you might think), seeing what happens when you strap C4 to a naquadah generator (an extremely large explosion), and enjoying the simple pleasures of tossing prototype grenades into the ocean (the water sprays rainbows across the sky as it is thrown miles into the air, and it falls on them like rain as they laugh).

Cadman barely needs any convincing.

-

He tells Lorne that he’s gay. Lorne doesn’t miss a beat.

“Yes, sir,” he says, entirely unperturbed. “I figured.”

-

He leaves a message for Nancy.

He tells her he’s sorry, that he knows he was a bad husband, that it wasn’t fair the way he treated her. He tells her that she deserved better, that he wishes her well, that he hopes she’s happy, and he means it.

He feels lighter the moment he's finished. He wonders why he never did this before the loop.

-

He’s struck by a genius idea, and he busts open a few locks and drags the ascension machine out of storage. Sure, it nearly killed Rodney, but maybe he’ll get lucky. Nothing to lose at this point, right?

The moment the light envelops him, he knows he’s made a terrible mistake.

Within minutes his skin is peeling away to reveal hard, blue scales beneath. The sunlight becomes unbearable. He turns the lights out and feels his way by sound instead.

He doesn’t remember much beyond that. There are only brief flashes in his mind: cold metal beneath his claws, horrified screams reverberating in a corridor, the effortlessness of scuttling up the side of a tower, the crunch of bones cracking between his mandibles.

-

He locks himself in his quarters for a few loops after that.

After a while his guilt is outweighed by his boredom. He picks up the guitar that has been primarily decorative thus far and learns to play Folsom Prison Blues.

Time keeps dragging on, indeed.

-

Eventually, as seems to be inevitable, he ends up coming back to Rodney.

"Sheppard." Rodney gives him a quick nod. "What can I do for you?"

There are a million answers to that question, and none of them are appropriate for work.

He considers the juxtaposition: Rodney's cool greeting with the way he's bouncing on the balls of his feet, all coiled excitement and nervousness. That's how Rodney often is around him, now he thinks about it.

Is it interest or intimidation? Fondness or annoyance? He's never been good at parsing emotions, and that's been a frequent source of frustration. Now it's particularly acute.

"You want some coffee?" Rodney offers, like an olive branch. "I'm sure we've got a clean mug around here somewhere."

John does not want coffee.

How many times has he thought about this? Too many to count. And how many more chances will he have?

What the hell, he thinks. Teyla was right. He'll never get a better opportunity than this.

He steps forward and puts a tentative hand around the back of Rodney's neck. He hears his breath catch. He rubs the soft hair there between his fingers, watches the blush rise on his cheeks. It's an enticing look.

Slowly, carefully, he leans in and kisses him, uncertain even though he knows the loop will reset, because this is bigger than some silly irresponsible behavior; this is him putting his heart in Rodney's fidgety hands and hoping against hope it won't be crushed.

For a moment Rodney freezes, and John is already formulating frantic apologies when Rodney mouths, "Oh god, finally," against his lips and wraps his arms around his shoulders, yanking him closer and kissing him hot and hard.

It's easy as anything to slip his hands under Rodney's thighs and to lift him onto the workbench, even while Rodney attempts to distract him by unbuttoning his shirt and biting a line along his collar bone.

-

He fucks Rodney over the bench in his lab, and next time on a balcony overlooking the city, and after that on Elizabeth’s desk. He learns every inch of his body; the soft plump of his thighs, the way he likes to be jerked off nice and slow, the sensitive patch of skin behind his ear.

For loops and loops, he does nothing else. Rodney never turns him down, not once. No matter where he is or what he’s doing, he’ll drop everything to be with him, and John has no idea what to make of that.

(Yes he does, but it's too big and too terrifying to look at directly, so he puts it aside.

It can wait. He has nothing but time.)

The first time he gets Rodney to fuck him, he bursts into fat, ugly tears afterwards and Rodney wraps a blanket around him and pets his hair. They stay like that for hours, Rodney holding him and for once not speaking, letting the waves of need and desperation and loneliness ebb and flow as they will, giving the simple comfort of his presence.

Sometimes he tells him about the loop, sometimes not. It doesn’t seem to make much difference to Rodney. Even when he explains nothing, just walks up to him and kisses him, Rodney kisses him back just as hungrily as ever.

And when they’re not fucking, they’re talking. He learns that Rodney has always wanted to learn to paint. He misses his cat (no, really. It’s not funny.) The one person on the base he is most afraid of is Elizabeth, because he secretly suspects she might be smarter than he is.

John tells him about why he doesn’t talk to his family, and about how out of place he always felt in the military. That he likes turkey sandwiches because they’re what his college roommate made for him when he first left home and had to learn to get by on not much money.

Each day, he learns more about Rodney and shares more about himself. And then the loop resets, and he has to walk into the lab and see Rodney regard him coolly and say, “Sheppard,” like that’s all they are to each other.

He misses him, and that sounds insane because he's spent practically every waking hour with the man for what must have been weeks. But he is moving forward and Rodney is staying still. Every time the loop resets, they drift further apart.

-

He stops sleeping with Rodney.

-

He gets back to work.

He pulls up the city sensor data and brings it to the lab.

“Here, look. You said before there was a radiation spike.”

Rodney drums his fingers against the tablet. “Yeah, there is. And it looks,” he squints, “sort of familiar.”

“What could cause that?”

“A million things. Radioactive materials. Black holes. Coronal mass ejections. Lightning, if there’s enough of it.”

“Wait, wait wait.” Something important scratches at his mind. “Coronal mass ejections, as in, from stars?”

“Yes. The magnetic fields inside a star shift as material moves in its interior, and when a prominence is formed and collapsed, the star releases a burst of plasma.”

He snaps his fingers. “That’s it! The sun in this solar system, we know it’s periodically unstable, right? And it’s even more active than usual right now.”

“How can you possibly know that?”

He thinks of the arcs of plasma he saw as he dove the jumper into the sun’s corona and decides against trying to explain that. “It’s not important. But we know the stargate has sent Earth teams through time when the wormhole passed too close to a coronal mass ejection, right? What if our stargate had the same problem?”

“That might send whoever was traveling through the gate through time, but it wouldn’t make time loop.” A light flickers in Rodney’s eyes. “Oh! Oh! Unless that’s why the gate failed. It tried to send an outgoing wormhole at the exact moment that the sun’s activity peaked. When the wormhole hit the coronal mass ejection, it bounced back to its origin, carrying its energy with it. And that would mean…” He taps frantically at his tablet. “Right! That spike of radiation is the effect of the outgoing and incoming wormholes colliding, forming a resonance wave. All that energy is forming ripples which must be throwing us through spacetime.”

“Great! So can you fix it?”

Rodney blinks. “I’m not even sure I can model what’s happening, let alone fix it. The mathematical equations alone will be weeks of work.”

“We don’t have weeks, Rodney. We have -” he checks his watch, “- just over half an hour before the loop resets and we lose everything.”

Despair starts crawling up his spine, but he shouldn’t have underestimated the sheer stubbornness of Rodney McKay.

“Well then.” Rodney sits him down and shoves a notebook and pen into his hands. “Looks like you’re going to have to learn some math and help me to remember.”

-

This is his routine now: Wake up in his quarters, run to the lab, talk Rodney through the problem as fast as he can, get lectured on astrophysics and mathematical modelling until he feels like his head is going to explode, repeat.

Repeat, repeat, repeat.

-

He gets the basics down quickly but there are still pages and pages of math for them to solve, and nowhere close to enough time to figure it out in one loop. So he learns, and remembers, and does his best to save himself.

Rodney explains it well when he’s not being a jerk, and John starts to understand why he likes this work.

He hasn’t done this much math since college, and it’s not as awful as he remembers. There’s a kind of beauty to it, actually, a balance of all the relevant variables quantified and described, their relationships mapped into symbols and equations, the logically clarity of a necessarily true fact.

“See, this variable here, this represents the duration of the outgoing wormhole.” Rodney taps the whiteboard. John stares at the way his hands dance over the numbers. “And this one here, this is the distance between Lantea and its sun...”

Each loop, he learns a little more. Eventually, he understands the equations Rodney has been scribbling for the past god knows how many loops.

Now they just need to actually figure out how to solve them.

-

“That equation is wrong.”

“What? No it isn’t. I worked that out myself.” Rodney is glaring at him like he insulted his mother.

“I’m telling you, Rodney. Look.” John uses the cuff of his shirt to wipe out a corner of the equations scribbled on the whiteboard. “This is assuming we’re still operating in base 10, but we know the gate operating system is partially in base 16.” He adds in the corrected figures as he goes. “So we need to convert it to polynomial here and here before we can compare the output to the data from our solar radiation readings, then we can figure out the coronal mass ejection’s effects on both the gate and our computers simultaneously and allow for the difference.”

Rodney is squinting at the whiteboard. “That’s… Huh. That might actually be right.” He steps closer, running his fingers beneath the figures John has changed. Then he wheels and rounds on John.

“You,” he says, pointing a finger at John’s chest. “You are a genius.”

And then he’s grabbing John’s shirt and hauling him close and kissing him, wild and messy and with great enthusiasm.

And John had told himself he wasn’t going to do this any more but this is different, Rodney had kissed him this time, and with the way Rodney’s hands are scrabbling at every piece of skin he can reach he doesn’t think he could stop himself anyway.

Afterwards, once they’ve wasted far too much of this loop to get any productive work done, John tells Rodney about all the times that they’ve done this before, and that this is the first time Rodney has been the one to instigate it.

Rodney shrugs. “What can I say? A man who knows his math really gets me going.”

John hides a smile. “You only want me for my brain, huh?”

“Yes,” Rodney says, like that’s obvious. He breaks into a grin and runs a hand through John’s hair. “And the hair, of course. That’s very important.”

“Mmhmm.” John stretches lazily across the sofa in the corner of the lab. “And the rest of me?”

Rodney gives him a sly look. “I guess that’s alright too.”

And then Rodney is giggling as John wrestles him to the sofa as well, and he’s all flying elbows and poking fingers until John gets him pinned beneath him, both of them sweaty and out of breath from laughter.

Oh, thinks John. So this is what happiness feels like. He’d almost forgotten.

-

The loop is about to end, though this one feels different.

They're lying squashed together on the too-small sofa, inelegantly draped around each other, when Rodney takes his hand. “You have to tell me,” he says. “We’re about to reset, and once we've fixed this and I've forgotten again, you have to tell me how you feel.”

His gut churns. It’s so much simpler to be together when he doesn’t have to think about the consequences.

“Promise me,” Rodney says. “It’s not fair that I should finally get what I’ve wanted for so long, and not be able to remember it.”

He thinks about how he feels each time Rodney is reset: the loss, the ache of it. He tries to imagine what it would be like to have those experiences erased entirely.

“Okay.” He squeezes Rodney’s hand. “I promise.”

-

“That’s it!” Rodney beams at the whiteboard, covered from top to bottom in dense equations. “I can’t believe we got that done so fast.”

John lets out a sound that might be considered a laugh.

“Ah.” Rodney looks at him sideways. “You’ve been working on this for a while, huh?”

“You could say that, yeah.”

“Well, good news. Now we’ve got the wormhole modeled, we can feed this data into the dialing device and reset the gate manually.”

“And that will stop the loop?”

“I sure as hell hope so, because it’s the only idea I’ve got.”

“Terrific.”

-

John makes a conscious effort to stop his leg from bouncing anxiously as Rodney loads up their data into the dialing device.

He checks his watch. It’s three minutes to eight.

This is going to work. Right? This has to work. He’s put everything he has into this fix and he honestly doesn’t know if he can cope with looping one single time more.

(He’s thought that so many times before. And yet, here he is, still, willing or not.)

“We need to get the timing just right,” Rodney informs the gate techs. He’s taken over the gate room and thankfully the entire base has learned not to get in McKay’s way when he has that steely look in his eye. “We need to engage the program at exactly the moment the incoming wormhole is set to arrive.”

Two minutes to eight. Adrenaline surges, and he wants to run or to fight, but there’s nothing he can do except watch the furrow in Rodney’s brow and the agitated tapping of his fingers against the Ancient keypad.

“Alright, Chuck, ready on my command.”

Rodney’s got this, he tells himself. They’ve got this.

One minute to eight.

“Now!” Chuck sits up straighter, focused on the instruments in front of him. Rodney taps at the keypad, attention narrowed down to the rapidly scrolling code on his screen.

The lights flicker, spluttering overhead and casting the gate room in an eerie disjointed light. The gate starts to rotate, the screeching noise louder than usual, the illuminated symbols seeming to glow more brightly.

There is a moment of absolute stillness, and then -

The whoosh of the outgoing wormhole connecting is the most beautiful sound he's ever heard. He can get out, he can be free, he can live. He doesn't have to be alone any more.

Blood rushes to his head in great waves and makes him dizzy, like this might all be an illusion, like it might disappear at any moment.

He checks his watch. It's two minutes past eight.

He lets out a hysterical peal of laughter, staggers away from the gate controls, and passes out.

-

He wakes up not in his quarters. The antiseptic smell of the infirmary is the sweetest breath of fresh air.

Elizabeth insists he needs medical supervision, but there's no chance of keeping a hoard of curious scientists away from an oddity like the man who looped through time. So he's in an infirmary bed being gently grilled about the experience by Zelenka, who has apparently been elected their representative.

Elizabeth does her best to project an air of calm as she asks, "Is there any way to know how long we were looping for?"

Zelenka pushes his glasses up on the bridge of nose. "It is hard to say for certain, but extrapolating the current season based on the length of the days, we must have lost around six months."

"Six months?" Elizabeth turns to him, aghast. "John, I can't even imagine."

She means well, but he can't handle pity right now. He plays it off casually, with a wink and a smile. "Trust me, you don't want to." He swings his legs off the side of the bed and calls out to Carson. "Doc, I'm good to leave, right? Pretty sure I'm healthy as a horse, and I've given the research team plenty of material to work with."

Carson looks him over, takes in the weary lines of his shoulders, and eventually nods. He always was perceptive. "Aye, alright. But stop back in tomorrow for a checkup."

"Sure thing. Now if you'll all excuse me, I'm looking forward to a well deserved night off."

-

He is looking forward to a night off, but the very last place he wants to wake up tomorrow is in his quarters. He'd sooner sleep on one of the piers, or in the locker room, or on a hive ship. Anywhere but there.

But there's another option. Or at least, there might be. So he finds himself fidgeting outside Rodney's door.

The door opens while he's pacing back and forth in the corridor.

"Sheppard?' Rodney blinks at him. "I was just on my way to find you. Earlier you seemed… so I thought… well, this must have been hard for you. What are you doing in the hallway?"

He doesn't have an answer for that. Instead he considers.

Rodney's hair is mussed, the way it gets when he's been deep in thought and running his hands through it. His fingertips are pinching together, a hum of low-grade anxiety that surrounds him whenever he has to confront emotional situations. He's wearing an old grey hoodie, one of his favorites because it's soft, even though he thinks it makes him look dumpy (it doesn't. Or maybe it does, but it doesn't matter, because it's comfortable and warm and it smells like Rodney. John knows because he's stolen it tens of times. It's one of his favorites as well.)

John knows him, knows every part of him, and he's so close he could reach out and touch him, but he's a million miles away as well.

"... John? Do you want to come in?" Rodney's face pinches into a concerned frown. "We don't have to talk, if you'd rather not."

He could walk away. Turn on his heel and leave, never mention any of this, let the whole incident fade into obscurity. But he's so close to having what he wants: something new, something familiar, something beautiful.

He takes a breath. Here is his chance. Now or never.

"Actually, I think we should talk." He lets himself smile at the precious memory, one perfect moment crystallized like a diamond from months of crushing pressure. "I made a promise."

#stargate atlantis #mcshep #my writing

[hushedhands]

Challenge 83

@cecilia02 @everbeenminee Astra watching Andrew's coronation.

Astra Orders set an alarm for three o’clock in the morning, but she didn't need it. She didn't sleep at all.

Her mom had invited her to watch the once-in-a-generation event with her little cousins in Illéa Palace, but Astra had refused. Kile had offered to stay the night and keep her company, but that hadn't felt right either. Her dad had suggested not watching at all, which was cute but not really a solution. It would be weeks before footage of this faded from the news, and even then there would be anniversary specials forever. Astra might as well bite the bullet and watch the coronation that had almost been hers.

She wished her parents and her boyfriend weren’t making such a fuss about this. History was full of women who'd almost married princes and then gone home to watch them become kings. Her Uncle Maxon had left dozens of such women in his wake when he’d chosen to marry Aunt Ames, though Astra didn't have the telephone numbers of any of them. She wished Andrew had enough ex-girlfriends to make a proper club like the former Selected. It might have been nice to have someone who could understand this indescribable feeling without the need for words to name it.

It wasn't that she wanted to be married to Andy. She had no doubt at all that she'd made the right decision in calling off their relationship, and that was totally separate from the fact that she was now wildly in love with Kile.

But there was something aching in her chest as she watched the aerial shots of the city of London on the little television in her apartment in Angeles, curled up in her warmest fuzzy pajamas, hair in a messy version of her ballet bun, hands clinging to her mug of tea for dear life. Today was the day that standing by Andrew's side for his coronation went from something she wouldn’t do to something she couldn't do. She'd chosen to walk away, but this was the day that the door locked behind her.

Never was a hard word to give to Andrew, even if Kile had her Always.

The camera above the crowd panned past the palace Astra had stayed in that summer, and her chest squeezed hard. Whatever else had happened there, it had been a refuge for her at a time in her life when she’d needed it most.

It all started when she had been offered an incredible opportunity to dance for the Waverly ballet company in the summer, and an opportunity to attend an elite seminar with London’s royal ballet company in the spring, and Kile, realizing that he and Astra wouldn’t see each other for over six months, had broken up with her very suddenly.

Well, technically it had been a mutual decision. She hadn’t seen him much during his first year at school, and now she was off on her own adventures, and it seemed like a terrible time to try to make a relationship work. What if he met someone amazing at university? What if she met someone in Waverly or London? Was it fair to deny themselves new relationships and experiences just because they’d always been together? Weren’t they technically together by default, anyway?

It was a reasonable question. If you married someone you’d had playdates with for as long as you could remember, and you never even tried to date someone else, it was probably a relationship by default… right?

As she got on the plane for London, it had hit her hard that she wouldn’t have a hope of seeing Kile again, maybe for an entire year. The earliest she’d be back in Angeles was the next fall, and that’s exactly when he’d be leaving to go back to school again. And this time they wouldn’t talk to each other on the telephone almost every single day, and she wouldn’t slip secret notes in the care packages his parents sent him from home, and he wouldn’t surprise her by sitting in the audience during a matinee performance after sneaking back into town without telling her...

And maybe he never would again.

It was possible she’d cried the whole flight overseas, it was hard to remember. She must have rehydrated somehow, or she’d have shriveled up and died of the heartbreak. That time was all a blur now.

But what Astra remembered clearly, sitting on her sofa four years later, was the way she’d felt walking into that little old palace on the north side of the city and realizing that it was essentially hers for the season. It really paid to have a paranoid king for an uncle sometimes, because Maxon had pulled a dozen favors with the English royal family to get Astra somewhere safe and comfortable to live for a few months. She was technically an Illéan princess by title, so he wouldn’t hear of letting her rent a crumby apartment somewhere in the city, and besides, wherever she stayed needed to have enough room for a security detail. Still, even for a small palace, it was a palace and it was hers.

The old place had plenty of full-time staff that kept it in good shape as an estate of historical significance to the English monarchy, but Astra herself didn’t have maids or butlers, or a chef to keep her fed. At night, everyone who worked to keep the palace maintained went home, so it was only her and the security detail.

But she was allowed to order takeout from restaurants around town, so on her very first night alone she ordered enough food to live off of for a while, until she could get to a grocery store. She sprawled on a sofa in the downstairs sitting room, doodling in the notebook her Aunt May had given her for her last birthday, until there was a surprise knock on the archway in the entrance of the sitting room.

“Hello.” Andrew stood there, still in his business suit from the day, though with no tie, and with the top button undone. He looked ruffled, and in his hands he carried a large bottle of red wine. “Sorry to barge in… there isn’t exactly a doorbell in this place, and without staff to handle arrivals and departures… well, I did knock.” he awkwardly concluded.

Astra, still in her tank top and stretchy pants from the plane, would have felt severely underdressed to received a prince at a palace, except this was one of her oldest and best friends, and some of the ache in her heart from leaving Kile on the other side of the world eased away just from looking at him. She hugged him, “You don’t need to knock. It’s good to see you.”

“And you.” he hugged her back. “Ah, and here. A housewarming gift.” he offered her the wine.

“You’re just in time for dinner.”

“Am I?”

“It should be here soon. The finest spicy noodles and sautéed vegetables in the land. Although, if there’s no doorbell…”

“The guard at the gate will take it from the delivery driver and have someone bring it in.” he grinned.

“Then what are we waiting for? Let’s go hunt down something to open that bottle.” she said.

A new city, a change of scenery, some delicious New Asian food, a bottle of old wine, a dear old friend… this was the recipe to get over a breakup. Astra knew it, because she already felt worlds better, just struggling to find a way into the wine bottle. There wasn’t a corkscrew in the kitchens that they could find, and this palace didn’t have its own wine cellar, which was the only other place they could think to find wine accessories. In the end, Andrew took an impressive, ancient sword off of a display rack on a wall at the top of the grand staircase and carefully poked the sharp end down until it was lodged into the cork.

Astra laughed so hard her sides hurt as she twisted the bottle out in front of her and Andrew slowly stepped backward. After a couple of tries, the cork loosened up enough that he could use brute force to pull the rest of it out.

When the food arrived, they carried it up to the top floor, to a balcony that overlooked the city, and they had a picnic of sorts.

“Where’s Lucas? You two are usually a package set.” Astra asked between bites of spicy noodles.

“Still finishing up his first year at university.”

“Oh, of course! Kile— “ She stopped abruptly, her chest squeezed tightly, her tongue fell heavy in her mouth, and she drowned the bitter taste of his name on her lips with expensive wine.

“Oh dear. That won’t do.” Andrew leant over and brushed away an errant tear from her cheek. “You mean to tell me… well, he’s safe isn’t he? He’s not unwell?”

“No, no he’s fine. He’s at school… and I’m here.”

Andrew studied her face carefully. He’d met Kile and Astra on the same day, at the same moment, so they’d been friends for exactly the same amount of time. He knew that they’d been together romantically for almost seven years now, the teenage equivalent of a sixty-year marriage. “So you’re… taking time apart?”

“We’ve decided to go our separate ways.” Astra said, the words soft and wispy in her throat. “We’re not… we’re not headed in the same direction anymore. We might never head in the same direction again. After university, he wants to see the world. And I… I might travel around for a while as a dancer, but I can’t imagine not being there for Addy once she becomes Queen… Even if that wasn’t true, we won’t have a good chance to be in the same city for at least a year… and a lot can happen in a year.”

Andrew took a large sip from his glass and then refilled hers.

“That’s really difficult, Astra… I’m so sorry. I know how much you love each other. It must be hell, knowing that you’re growing apart from the person you’re closest to in the world.”

Astra choked a sob in her wineglass and Andrew’s eyes widened, “God, I’m sorry! What a terrible thing to say—“ he sat both of their glasses safely aside and wrapped her in a warm hug.

Astra got his suit all wet from her tears, but she felt comfortable in his arms. “I’m not crying because of you, stupid.” She explained when she had the breath to do so. “It’s definitely because of him. I just… I didn’t think anyone would understand. But you do.”

“I don’t.” Andy rushed to correct her. “Not really. I’ve never experienced anything like that. The closest I can imagine is if… if I lost touch with someone in the Palace kid gang. You’re my best friends, apart from Luke, and I’ve known you forever. If I had to say goodbye to one of you, to lose you forever… it’s not even close to what you’re feeling, but just the thought hurts enough for me to know that you’re going through hell.”

Astra sniffled and collected her wineglass again, ready for more sips, content to allow herself to be comforted by her friend. “Hell has better wine than I expected, I’ll give it that much.”

“Not a bad view, either.” Andrew agreed with a small chuckle, looking out at the city.

“Didn’t expect one of my very best friends to come with me to hell.” Astra timidly admitted.

“And I’m not leaving until I get you out of it.” he’d promised.

Andrew always did have words as sweet as honey.

They drank the whole bottle that night, between the two of them. They had as good an excuse as two teenagers needed: they couldn’t find a wine stopper. Andrew offered to stay the night with her so that she wouldn’t be alone, but now that the world was blurry and warm from the wine, Astra felt delightfully sleepy. She was going to get her first good night’s sleep since losing Kile. So Andrew left, promising to bring breakfast the next morning to check on her.

He checked on her a lot.

He brought her breakfast and dinner every day, and he’d probably have brought her lunch too, except that she was always at her dance seminar during the daytime. Astra ended every night with her body pleasantly tired from dancing, a new half a bottle of wine in her stomach, and her mind full of whatever nice, easy conversation she’d had with Andrew just before bed. Her first week in England flew by.

That Friday night, Andrew appeared in the doorway to the sitting room right on schedule, two bottles of wine in hand.

“You’re mad.” Astra giggled.

“It’s the weekend.” he argued. “You don’t have to dance tomorrow, and I don’t have any public appearances to make until next Tuesday.”

“You’re off work until Tuesday? You English royals really know how to take it easy.” she laughed. She didn’t think her cousins had taken a three day weekend in their lives.

“We’ll keep the second bottle on standby, just in case we decide we want to try it.”

But of course, they were young and it was a Friday night, they definitely wanted to try it. Somewhere after the first glass of the second bottle, refilling glasses got too risky and they started drinking straight from the bottle, passing it back and forth. There was a television show on, showing a concert happening on the other side of the city in a stadium Astra could just see if she stood tall enough on the balcony.

Andrew watched her going almost en pointe to try to spy the stadium, mesmerized by her strength and balance and grace. “Can we dance?”

Astra smiled brightly. Dancing was her favorite in the world, of course they could dance! They danced in their socks to the music on the television until Andrew collapsed, out of breath, on the sofa. Astra joined him, blood pumping pleasantly fast through her veins.

“I’m out of shape!” he bemoaned.

“I’m a professional athlete, don’t compare yourself to me. You did just fine.”

“I did? Do you think I could join the ballet?” He laughed giddily.

She’d never seen him giddy like this.

Andy carried the weight of his country on his shoulders, he always had. Addy hadn’t really started bearing Illéa on her back until she was eleven or twelve, old enough to understand what was coming for her, but Andrew had always been a future king, even when he was tiny. Seeing him now, not a care in the world, laughing about joining the ballet… Astra’s heart twisted in her chest and for the first time since breaking up with Kile, it had absolutely nothing to do with him.

He had no part of this.

Astra leant forward and kissed Andrew on the warm, red cheek.

He looked at her, stunned, smile falling off his face. “What was that for?”

“I don’t know… just because. Just for you.”

“Just for me…” he’d mused.

“For being good to me. For taking care of me while I’m here. For… for being you. Yeah… just for you.” Astra nodded, this time more certain that the words made sense outside of her wine-fogged mind.

“I should be me more often.” he chuckled.

Astra blinked.

Should he?

***

There was a version of Astra’s stay in London where she pined away for her ex-boyfriend every moment she got, and maybe poured that pain into her dancing because it was overflowing from her heart and needed somewhere to go. That’s what she’d been expecting deep down. But what really happened was, she found a favorite market to buy groceries from, she found a bakery between her palace and the dance studio that kept her in much-needed carbs, she found a park with a pond where lots of locals liked to walk their dogs, which meant she got to pet a lot of dogs, and she started falling in love with the city.

And then there was Andrew.

He knew her so well, and they’d loved each other as friends for so long, and spending those mornings and nights with him felt so easy, so smooth.

And he was handsome and kind and… ugh, handsome. Astra didn’t regret kissing him on the cheek. Not even when he stood with her on the balcony a week later, watching the sunset, and she laced her hand with his.

“Are you quite alright?” he’d asked, not because she’d grabbed his hand, but just because he was still so worried about her.

“When I got here, I thought the answer to that question would be no forever.” Astra confessed. “And listen… I don’t really know who I am without Kile, he’s been a part of me for my whole life… but these past two weeks I’ve started to find out… and I like it. I like getting to know me.”

Andrew smiled down at her and squeezed her hand.

“And I like you too, Andrew.”

His smile became pained, “Astra—“

“It’s okay. You’re the next king and blah blah blah.” he laughed, because there were so few people in the world who could blah blah blah being an heir to a throne, but Astra was certainly one of them.

“It isn’t that.” he corrected her with a shake of his head. “It’s… you’re getting out of a serious relationship. You can’t like anyone yet—“

“Yes I can.” Astra scoffed, a challenging glint in her eyes, “Watch me.”

“But we’ve been friends our whole lives, too. Wouldn’t you like to like someone different? A stranger, maybe?”

“Where would I find one of those?” Astra lamented, only half-joking. Having a king for an uncle really limited one’s opportunities to meet strangers.

Andrew peered at her closely, then seemingly made up his mind all at once, saying, “Put on a dress.”

“What?”

“Put on a dress, I’ve got a surprise for you!”

Just like that, Andrew was downstairs talking to his security team and Astra was upstairs trying to figure out what dress to wear. There was a sweet springtime yellow thing… and then there was the red thing.

Astra made up her mind quickly. She chose the red thing. She chose everything that the red thing implied.

She appeared at the bottom of the stairs and Andrew’s eyes widened.

“Is this alright? I have other dresses—“

“S’perfect—“ he muttered and then cleared his throat, “Ahem, that is perfect Astra. Let us be off.”

He formally offered her his arm and she accepted with a proud smirk at the flush in his cheeks, then they ducked into his car and his driver whisked them off across town.

“What are we doing?” Astra asked after they took a turn to a part of town she’d never been to before.

“Did I not say it is a surprise?”

“Yes, but—“

“We’ve got guards, and I’ve gone to this place before. There’s no need to worry.”

“Andrew—“

“It’s where I go when I need to meet strangers.”

Astra blinked, dumbfounded.“You? Meet strangers?”

“How else am I supposed to find a queen? ” he muttered mutinously.

Astra stared over at him for a long moment, never having given it a second thought. Addy would be free to date whomever she chose, but if all else failed she could always have a Selection to find her husband. Andrew had nothing like that to choose from.

Astra was surprised when the car pulled to a stop at the backdoor to a nightclub. Could princes of England really go clubbing? But this place looked like it had tight security, and there were signs posted prominently that there were no cameras allowed on the premises. Andrew’s and Astra’s bodyguards stayed close by as they entered the club and Astra’s ears were assaulted by music so loud she could no longer hear it. All she could hear was the beat.

Andrew took her to the bar and bought her whatever drink she wanted, and then leant in close to her ear so that she could hear him say, “What do you think?”

“It’s a little loud!”

He chuckled, “About the strangers.”

“Oh!” Astra looked around as she spun the little umbrella from her pink drink between her fingers. There were all kinds of men here. Some older than her, some younger, some looked athletic and some looked bookish, and they were all having fun, losing themselves to the same beat. “What do you think?!” she yelled at him.

He looked around at the women in the room, sizing them up, and then shrugged, “Hard to say.”

“How do we meet them?!” Astra was yelling, while somehow he was able to keep his voice low and still be heard when he leaned close to her ear.

“Honestly? They usually just come up to me…” he confessed.

Astra rolled her eyes. Royals.

Sure enough, several women came up to Andrew and threw themselves at him while he and Astra waited for even one man to make a pass at her.

“Maybe you’re intimidating them away!” Astra suggested.

“Maybe so. Do you want me to go dance?”

Did she want him to go dance with one of the strange women in the club so that a strange man might come up to her and hit on her?

Not really, no. She wanted to dance with him. She liked dancing with him. More than that, she didn’t want to dance with anyone else. And she didn’t want him to dance with anyone else. She took his hand and dragged him out to the dance floor, their bodyguards hilariously close by, and they started moving.

It wasn’t dancing the way Astra was trained to think of it. There was no choreography, no gentle swell of melody to carry her movements, this was something far more basic than that. The best part was how quickly she was able to stop thinking about anything but her own breath, the sweat on her brow, and the man in front of her.

There was nothing else in the world. For as long as they could stay with the beat, there was only the beat. Endorphins that she associated with a long hard workout flooded her body, and Astra felt good. And beyond feeling good, she did not feel sad. She did not miss anybody. Not her family on the other side of the world, and not Kile. She was complete right here. All she had to do was make this last forever.

“I am not a professional dancer.” Andrew reminded her, breath coming far too fast to get that whole sentence out without gasping for air several times in the middle.

Astra giggled at him, then hugged him close, “This place is magical!” she yelled in his ear.

“Magical?”

And just to prove the point, and to express her gratitude, she pecked his lips with a kiss.

That was it, right? A kiss of gratitude?

As first kisses went, it was silly. They were both too out of breath to do more than mash their lips together for a second and then go back to gasping for air. Andrew led them away for water and after a few minutes to recover, he was ready to try again.

Astra helped him find a way to move to every other beat instead of every beat, essentially cutting the speed of his dancing in half for him. That helped tremendously. But to help him do this, she had to wrap her arms around his neck to guide him, and once he had the beat it was all much less frantic and much more sensual. This time when they kissed, it was not a silly peck on the lips.

Astra had only ever kissed Kile before, but since that was never happening again, she didn’t allow herself to think about that. She didn’t think about how Andrew was taller than Kile, and his cheeks were softer because he shaved every single morning without fail. She didn’t think about anything except how nice it was not to feel pain. When she was with Andrew, especially when she was kissing Andrew, she felt nothing but joy.

Was she using him to feel better?

If someone made you feel better and wanted to be around you, was that even using them?

They stayed at the club until Andrew was too tired to go on (and even Astra was ready to admit she was tired), and then they climbed back into Andrew’s car and rode off into the night.

Astra’s ears were ringing with the sudden silence, and they were both flushed and dripping with sweat. Astra was ready to bet her face matched the red of her dress and her hair, and was ready to feel embarrassed about that somewhere beneath her exhaustion, when Andrew slid his hand over to hers and squeezed.

She looked over at him and smiled.

It was past 2 in the morning when they got back to Astra’s palace, and Astra couldn’t believe they’d spent so many hours getting swept away like that.

“I’d do that every night if I thought my hearing could survive it.” Astra admitted as they struggled to get up the stairs, feeling distinctly like they had overcooked pasta for legs.

Astra took an ice-cold bath and then rolled her legs out to try to avert any soreness the next morning, and then she found Andrew in one of the guest bedrooms. “Thanks for the dancing… sorry we didn’t meet any strangers.” she grinned.

“I’m not.” he admitted, with complete candor.

“Well then, no future queen for you and no non-childhood friend to date for me.”

“Perhaps you could find a childhood enemy?” he suggested, and she laughed at the dryness of voice as he made the joke.

“Yes, I’ll have to make do.” she agreed.

***

The kisses felt stolen for the first week, like they were getting away with something they weren’t supposed to, but then one day Andrew showed up with Astra’s favorite breakfast, and two paper travel cups of tea, and he pecked her on the lips in greeting and it didn’t feel stolen at all. It felt as comfortable as an old sweater, and made her feel just as warm inside.

To celebrate the end of her first month in London, Astra ordered dinner for them from the same restaurant they’d eaten at on her very first night in town. He showed up looking frazzled after a long day of talking with members of parliament, but all the more pleased to see her because that stress was over now. And, of course, he brought her the same kind of wine they’d shared that first night.

Astra had bought a corkscrew weeks ago now, so they didn’t need to resort to using ancient swords to open their alcohol, which made it slightly less interesting. Astra curled up against him on the balcony overlooking the city and kissed him every chance she got.

“You’re certainly in a mood.” he noted with a smile down at her, after their fourth surprise kiss.

“I’m just glad to be here.”

“Are you?” he seemed surprised. She didn’t blame him. It was quite a turn from her first weepy night a month ago.

“Yes. I think London’s been good for me.”

And maybe she meant the city, with her new favorite local spots and the friends she was making at the seminar, but maybe she meant Andrew. Maybe she couldn’t really tell the difference, and it was all just good for her.

“I am very glad to hear that.”

“I wish I didn’t have to go to Waverly in two months.” Astra admitted. “It’s an amazing opportunity for my career, not to mention I’ll get to visit my grandparents in Carolina all the time, but… I like London.”

This time she was blatantly talking about him.

“Well… London’s not going anywhere anytime soon, I suppose.” he pointed out, fully onto her game.

She hmm-ed into her wineglass, “I suppose not.”

“And you’re always welcome in London, you know.”

Astra giggled and shook her head, surprising him with another kiss as a reward for playing along with her silly euphemism.

Later that night, when the food was stashed away in the kitchen and the wine was mostly empty, Andrew joined Astra again on the balcony as she stood there with the springtime breeze blowing through her loose, curly hair. He wrapped his arms around her waist from behind and pressed a kiss to her shoulder.

“I meant it, you know.” he said. “You could stay as long as you like. There’s a tremendous ballet company in London, perhaps you’ve heard of it.”

Astra laughed, pressing a hand to his over her stomach and turning to look up at him. “Maybe someday.”

“You’re dead-set on going to Waverly, then?”

“Well, I’ve signed a contract.” she explained.

“Ah. They shall imprison you if you break it. I understand.”

His voice was always so serious when he joked, never giving away the game. She laughed at the thought and said, “Yes, there’s a special prison for ballet dancers who break their contracts, it’s especially brutal. I hear they make you dance to jazz all day.”

This time his lips brushed the placed where her shoulders met her neck, and her breath hitched at the sensation. “I shan’t extradite you.” he concluded, his warm lips brushing her skin. “I shall keep you here, safe and sound, far away from the ballet constables.”

Astra laced her fingers with his over her stomach and said, “They’re relentless, the ballet constables. You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.”

His lips trailed up her neck and stopped at her ear where he said softly, “I think I can manage.”

Astra’s entire body erupted in chills, and suddenly she didn’t want to continue their elaborate, jokey banter about the consequences of her actions. She turned in his arms and pressed her lips roughly to his, knowing beyond the shadow of a doubt that all she really wanted was to lose herself in the taste and the feel and the smell of him. Andrew was the only person in the world who made her not care about the future, and when his lips were on her skin that was doubly true.

It wasn’t exactly real happiness she felt when she was lying in bed with him, his sandy brown hair all ruffled, his arm slung across her like he was afraid she’d disappear in the night. True, meaningful, lasting happiness was something that required a lot of factors: feeling good about the present and hopeful about the future, and at peace with the past. Astra wasn’t at peace with her past, and she didn’t even want to think about the future, but the present… the present was so good. It was one out of three. One out of three wasn’t bad.

***

If Andrew’s parents noticed that he was essentially living with Astra that spring, they didn’t say anything about it. Maybe they just assumed that, since they were close friends, he was keeping her company and enjoying a nice, extended visit. And that was perfectly true, except that they were sharing a bed and occasionally a shower, and they shared a cup of coffee in the morning and a bottle of wine at night.

They didn’t go back to that club, but they found other ways to go out together without being photographed. There were secret tables in the kitchens of restaurants, special royal boxes in theaters, private trains to private estates, and one time there was a royal yacht. Astra was surprised that Andy had so much freedom, as the heir to the throne. Addy couldn’t have dreamed of roaming around Illéa the way that Andrew was gallivanting across his future kingdom. Sure, part of it was Andrew making sure Astra was having the time of her life— he probably didn’t usually venture away from home so much— but even so.

“Will you be able to keep this up once you’re king?” she’d asked him as they sat curled up together on a train ride returning from the south. “All this rambling.” she explained at his questioning look.

“Ah. No, there will certainly be less. But my job will be nothing nearly so intense as King Maxon’s, if that is what you’re thinking. For one thing, I’ve got parliament.”

Astra wasn't exactly sure how England’s parliament worked. She knew King Eoan set the legislative agenda, but he couldn’t pass any kind of law on his own. “I can’t believe they let you have a whole train to yourself, and you barely have to work.” she teased.

His arm was wrapped around her shoulders, and his thumb began tracing her upper arm as he said, “If you think my future job’s a scandal, you should see what our queen has to do. Host parties, go shopping, appear at events…” his voice sounded as if it was a strain to remain light and carefree. As if his words were more important than he wanted them to be.

Astra leaned her head on his shoulder. Those were all things she already did for Illéa. Well, she didn’t host many parties, but she sometimes helped her Aunt Ames out when things were especially overwhelming. It was strange to think that she had experience doing the same job as the Queen of England.

“All that, and she gets to retire young?”

“Assuming that whole heir business is sorted out sufficiently early.” he admitted.

“Oh, that.” Astra giggled.

“On the whole, it’s not a terrible job.” he said.

“No, not when you factor in the jewelry.” Astra agreed, still joking.

“Precisely.” Andrew nodded with a small smile against the top of her head.

Astra wasn’t sure why he didn’t return her joke with one of his own.

***

Though Astra very much enjoyed being swept off her feet by the prince, it was the quiet nights at the palace that meant the most to her. Sometimes, after dinner and a long, hot bath, her joints would feel well enough to practice some choreography in one of the drawing rooms. Andrew would play the piano for her, putting years of lessons to use for the first time. Sometimes her joints would not feel well enough for more dancing after a long day at the seminar, and he’d rub her battered feet and ankles until she melted into a puddle at the other end of the sofa or bed, or wherever they happened to be.

She’d ask him about his work, but he wouldn’t tell her much. Maybe he was worried about protecting state secrets, or maybe he didn’t want to worry her. Maybe he didn’t want her to see him in less than a good mood, because he was only there to make her happy. And how could she not be happy?

One night, in the middle of her second month in England, as she laid awake in their bed and brushed her fingers through his unruly hair (a sight so few had ever seen: the Heir to England with unruly hair), she pressed a kiss to the shell of his ear and said softly, “What are we going to do when I have to leave for Waverly?”

Sleepily, he’d pried his eyes open, his eyelashes fluttering against her skin. “What would you like to do?”

“Freeze this moment in amber. Live in it forever.”

“Be young, in love, and carefree forever?” he’d smirked.

“In love?” she’d hesitated, surprised. They’d only been attached at the lips for six weeks now, as impossible as it seemed. Hadn’t they enjoyed half a lifetime together already?

“Oh dear.” He’d lifted his head up so that he could look in her eyes, “I shouldn’t have said that.”

Astra shook her head, “It’s okay. I do love you Andrew.”

“Do you?” he sounded amazed.

And she did. She’d always loved him, just as he’d always loved her. They’d grown up together, perfect friends, how could she not love him?

“I’m sorry you didn’t know that already.” she let her hand fall from his hair down his spine, coming to rest on his bare lower back. She traced the shape of a heart there with her finger and he shuddered. “You’re one of the best friends I’ll ever have, and I love you.”

He smiled and returned his cheek to her chest, listening for her heartbeat. “Yes. This moment would do just fine.”

“We could freeze this moment and allow archaeologists to discover it in a few thousand years.”

“And if we don’t like the future, we could simply freeze this moment again.” he agreed.

“You don’t think you’d be bored after a few thousand years?”

He grinned, one hand tracing her ribcage lazily, “I could find a few ways to keep myself occupied.”

***

Astra didn’t notice the first time there was a photographer waiting outside of the dance studio after her rehearsals. And then, a couple of days later, when a rumor sourced to a local food delivery driver was printed in a Sunday paper saying that he delivered Prince Andrew’s favorite kind of curry to the Palace where Astra was staying a couple of times per week. She didn’t mind when Andrew suggested they stop sneaking out to exclusive clubs or restaurants around the city, because staying in was extremely entertaining.

But it was hard to miss when Andrew nervously appeared in her doorway one evening and said, instead of ‘hello’ or ‘how was your day’, “Grandmother has asked to meet you.”

Astra gaped. Queen Cerridwen, King Eoan’s mother, had never met any of the Illéan royals in-person. Maybe she’d met Uncle Maxon back before he was King, when she was still the active queen, but maybe not even then. “Me? Wh…why?”

Andrew ran a hand through his hair and ruffled it in a way that would have been funny if he hadn’t look so stressed. He sank to his knees to sit next to Astra, who’d been sitting on the floor, using the coffee table to hold her nail polish bottles as she painted her toes. “The rumors got to her.”

“Rumors… about us?”

Andrew nodded, “I’ve had the press department squashing everything the second they hear about it, and it’s bought us some time, but the rumors have been consistent for long enough now—“

“The rumors that we’re spending time together?” Astra asked.

“Yes.” Andrew looked faintly nauseous.

Astra smiled and traced his cheekbone with her thumb soothingly, “We are spending time together. We’re not being falsely accused.”

“No, I know… I think, just… I think we need to talk.”

Those were heavy words.

Kile had been the last one to say those words to her, and the outcome had been really unpleasant.

“You didn’t bring wine?” Astra noticed for the first time.

“I wanted us to keep our heads clear.”

“Are you ending this?” Astra asked, eyebrows furrowed.

“No.” Andrew promised. “But we’ve never talked about what this is before. I’ve been able to buy us a little slice of time to ourselves, but I’ve reached the end of my tricks.”

Astra looked into his eyes carefully, noticing the strain there for the first time, “You never said you had to use tricks…”

“I didn’t want you to have to worry about it. I wanted to be… uncomplicated. Simple. After everything you’ve been through, I thought that you needed simplicity.”

“I did.” she admitted, chest suddenly aching at the thought that the simple times might be gone.

He brushed an errant curl behind her ear and smiled bracingly, “I am not here to tell you that the world is ending. Merely that people have found us out. They’re asking questions that I do not have the answers to, and in lieu of my answers, they are coming to their own conclusions. Grandmother amongst the rest.”

“She wants to meet me because she knows we’ve been dating?”

Andrew huffed a breath, “It’s her way of forcing the matter at hand. When it comes to me, to dating the English Heir, there is dating and there is Dating. Courting. Something official, not just between you and I, but between us and all of England.”

Astra looked a little creeped out at the thought, “They… want in on our dates?”

Andrew rubbed his brow, “In a manner of speaking… there comes a point when I’m meant to introduce anyone I am seeing to the people of England as a potential future queen.”

“Why? It’s not like they get to vote on who stays in your bed, or in our case, my bed.”

“No, but it’s…” he seemed so uncomfortable at having to explain this to her. Probably any English girl he dated would have seen this coming a mile away and known what to expect. Astra blushed a little, feeling inadequate for the first time all spring. “It’s a bit like a small Selection, perhaps. They get to know the person their prince is dating and they get to watch me court their future queen.”

“Oh, and your gramma wants you to do that with me?” What a relief to know she was just a confused old woman who’d misunderstood.

“Precisely. Meeting Grandmother at her estate in Scotland would signal the official start to our official courtship.”

Astra felt all the tension leave her body and she smirked at him, “Your gramma is proposing marriage to me on your behalf.”

“Basically.”

“What’s she in such a hurry for? We’re teenagers.”

Andrew let out an exasperated sigh, relieved now that he could see Astra wasn’t panicking and throwing everything she owned into a bag to haul back to Illéa on the first flight out the next morning. “I don’t know. You’re a good match, obviously. My father is close with your uncle, but it would be smart to solidify that alliance with some kind of marriage.”

“Very sexy and romantic.” Astra giggled.

“Isn’t it just?” he agreed wryly. He pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath, “I suppose she’s worried because I’ll be king in a few more years. She doesn’t want me to have to go through that enormous transition of responsibility by myself. I suppose finding a queen would be much harder as king than as prince, too. Father’s even asked me if I want to take a few months next year and devote myself to dating full time before he begins handing off responsibilities to me in earnest. As part of a formal ascension plan.”

“What a conversation.”

“You can’t begin to imagine.”

Astra collapsed into giggles, doing her best to imagine it anyway. King Eoan asking his son if he wanted to be a full-time, 40-hours-per-week dater as part of his obligations to the crown.

“It’s good you think this is funny.” he sulked, but he only partially meant it. He was genuinely glad she was laughing instead of crying.

Fairly certain her toes were dry now, Astra stood and screwed the caps on her polish, stashing the bottles in a drawer next to her vanity. She stretched, fingers reached for the ceiling, going up on her toes, and as she came down she whisked her loose t-shirt over her head.

“Astra.” Andrew cleared his throat, forcing his eyes away from her lacy, pale blue and white bra, “Clear heads, remember?”

“I’m just getting comfortable.” she said in a voice that clearly told him she was not just getting comfortable.

He stood and she came over and loosened his tie for him. He placed a hand over hers when she made for his shirt’s buttons and said, “Do you want this to last past April?”

Astra gulped, “I wish April was forever.”

He stared at her, the only flicker of doubt coming from the small twitch of his eyebrow. “That’s not the same thing.”

“… I know.”

“You don’t have to answer me tonight, but we should talk about it. If we keep going past April, I suspect it will make the most sense for you… for you to meet grandmother.”

This time, when Astra continued with his buttons, it was a genuine effort to help him get comfortable, and not a ploy to see his bare chest. Seeing his bare chest was an undeniable bonus, though. She linked her fingers with his and dragged him towards her bed, and then she flopped down on her back and stared up at the top of her four poster canopy. “So what would happen after I met your grandmother?”

“You’d get some secret service protection.” Andrew laid on his stomach and used his finger to draw doodles on the smooth, soft skin above her navel. His breath felt warm as it puffed against her ribs, but her skin erupted in goosebumps anyway, and he pressed a chaste kiss to them. He knew the effect he had on her, and it only made him want to cherish her more.

“I’d go back to Illéa, though. To Waverly.”

“Yes. We’d coordinate that. It would probably be a less hectic place for you than in England.”

“You think England will be hectic if you announce we’re officially dating?”

Andrew huffed one dry, humorless laugh. “When they find out I’m thinking of making you their princess… sweetheart, it’s going to be a nightmare of a circus.”

“Terrifying clowns?”

“The most terrifying.” he agreed.

Astra sighed, “Then what? How long would we get to date before they’d expect you to decide whether you want to marry me or not?”

“Given the time you’d be spending in Illéa, we could get a year.”

“A year.” Astra liked the sound of that. Sure, she’d dance until her contract was up in Waverly, but then she’d come back and get to do this with Andrew for months and months. His dad might even let him date her full-time. Morning, noon, and night cuddles.

“Yes, and then…”

“And then a fairytale proposal. Would it have to be public?”

“Gosh, no.” Andrew promised. “But it would need to have a good story behind it. Take you somewhere meaningful—“

“Like the club where we first kissed.” Astra teased, running her hands through his hair.

“No, not at all.” he chuckled.

“And would I get to wear one of the crown jewels or something?”

Andrew lifted his head to look at her. “Would you want one?”

Astra laughed. It was all so completely silly. She was an eighteen year old girl! A boy was offering her a crown jewel! She laughed some more.

“Our engagement would be six months, eight at most.” he said. “That’s going to be the hardest time for you. You won’t be royal yet, but you’ll have all the expectations. Of course, you’d have everything you’d need from us. Security, education, an allowance for your clothes.”

“Mmm, clothes.”

“And then—“

“A royal wedding?”

“Yes.”

“And a royal honeymoon?”

“Of course.” he pressed another kiss to her skin, this one not so chaste.

“And then I’m your princess?”

“Until we take our oaths to become king and queen.”

“You really think I could be queen?”

“You think you couldn’t?”

“I know how hard it is on my Aunt Ames. It’s not really the life I saw for myself.”

“It’s different in England, you know. We’re smaller than most Illéan provinces, and we’ve got parliament.”

She couldn’t continue to fantasize about marrying him without understanding what he meant when he said that. “Andy, how does parliament help you?”

“Eh… help is not the word.” Andrew admitted. “It’s more that they take certain responsibilities off the monarch’s plate. Whether they do so in a manner that helps is an entirely different question. But unlike Queen America, who assists on many matters of policy and diplomacy, my mother’s job is almost entirely ceremonial, supporting my father’s efforts.”

“So do you think I could dance if we were married?”

Andrew fell quiet, wracking his brain for a way. “Not once we were engaged… I just can’t imagine that you would have time. And you’d quickly become one of the most famous women in the world… not that you’re anonymous now, just that we’re talking about a whole different stratosphere of public interest… even if we found time for you to dance in the royal ballet, it might not be safe.”

Astra hated that answer, but it made perfect sense to her. Addy had never regularly commuted into the city for any reason. Keeping her safe during recurring, publicly open performances would have been a nightmare, and Astra supposed that would be true for her too.

Astra also knew she wasn’t going to dance forever. She probably had a good ten or twelve years before retirement, and that was only if she avoided any major injuries. In Astra’s experience, injuries and pregnancies were two of the most common reasons dancers retired younger than thirty and they were both to be avoided.

“How long do you think we could put all of this off? I don’t want to stop dancing.”

“I know. I want you to dance! You’re bloody magnificent when you dance.”

“Just when I dance?” she teased suggestively.

“Other times too.” he smirked up at her. He let his face fall gently on her stomach, breathing in the smell of her body wash and then lifting his head again, “I could tell Grandmother we’re not yet ready. You could go to Waverly and come back for visits now and again.”

“Sounds like I’d miss you.”

“I’d miss you too.”

“Sounds better to me, though.”

“I suppose it must. The people mightn’t be fooled, they’ll still expect something is happening between us.”

“They’d be right.”

“But Astra… No matter what, I’ll be King four years from now. There’s no delaying that. ”

“That’s a long time, Andy.”

“I can’t… you must understand, I’d need to know for certain by then.”

“Of course!”

“Ideally… Ideally I would be married by then so that we could share the coronation ceremony.”

“So we could have a wedding earlier that fall? You’d propose that spring? That gives us a few years. That gives me time to dance.”

“But would it be enough?”

“Three years is forever, Andy.” Astra grinned down at him.

“And you’d really consider being my queen?”

“I’d consider a lot of things for blue eyes like yours.”

“They are an important part of the benefits package.” he agreed, placing an arm on either side of her and bringing himself up so that they were eye to eye. “Along with lots of travel to exotic locations. The finest champagne money can buy. Famous designers tripping over themselves to clothe you. A handful of palaces. Lots of diamonds.” he punctuated each of these offers with a deep, heated kiss and by the end Astra was absolutely dizzy and in no state to negotiate her future job benefits.

***

By the end of the week it was not just one photographer waiting outside of the ballet studio anymore, there were dozens. They were aggressive and pushy, yelling her name and constantly demanding she tell them if she was seeing Andrew. Her Illéan security detail was not pleased. The theater that housed the ballet was difficult to secure against so many persistent intruders, and there was serious discussion about whether they could even let her finish the seminar. They also discussed calling King Maxon and asking him for reinforcements, which made Astra’s stomach feel sick. She didn’t want her uncle to have to pay money and spare resources to send across the world to her all because of her love life.

It was a tense day and a half before Andrew was able to come through with security of his own to supplement her detail. It had been a tough thing to organize, given she wasn’t officially his girlfriend, but he’d found a way for her.

If Astra knew anything in those days, it was that he would always find a way for her. That had never been the problem.

There were reporters outside of Astra’s palace now, night and day, and they marked each time Andrew came or went. Instead of lounging together on the balcony overlooking the city, Astra and Andrew had to draw the curtains closed for the sake of their privacy.

“We should just tell them we’re not really dating.” Astra said. “I can’t outright lie to them.” Andrew insisted. “I can’t break trust with my people. I don’t have to confirm we’re together, but I can’t just tell them we’re not.”

“There’s got to be a way… tell them we have no intention of courting right now. That’s not a lie, is it?”

“It’s a bit transparent.” Andrew pointed out.

“Well, I’d love to hear your better idea!”

Andrew sighed into her hair. They were dancing to the music on the television, its glow the only light in her bedroom. “Maybe we break up. And I tell them we broke up.”

“You’re breaking up with me?” Astra suddenly sounded so small and vulnerable, he squeezed her tighter, “No! Not really. Not in that way. It’s just a way we can… buy you some more time before we have to fess up to anything.”

Astra didn’t want to fake-break up with Andrew. She wanted the entire world to leave them to their peace and quiet in their little palace of domestic bliss forever. What was so complicated about that?

Andrew had the idea of staying away one night to try to relieve some of the heat, but all it did was leave Astra pacing the floor alone, listening to the rumble of dozens of people camped out on the street in front of her palace all night.

Astra and Andrew were summoned by Queen Waverly the next day and sat down together on the sofa in her office.

Everything about it was embarrassing. Andy’s mother needed to know how long they had been romantic, how far their romance had gone, how serious they were about their future together, and why Andrew had turned down his grandmother’s invitation.

“Lovey, she wasn’t trying to force your hand.” Waverly told Andrew sympathetically. “What’s happening now out there… it’s going to get worse, the longer we let the media spin itself up into a frenzy.”

Astra said, “I only have a week and a half left, your Majesty—“

“Astra.” Waverly reproached the use of her title. “We’re having this discussion as family. Call me Aunt Waverly… if you’re marrying my son, call me Mum.”

Astra gulped, looking at Andrew, lost.

“We’ve only been together a few months, we don’t know—“ Andrew spoke up, until Waverly nodded and held up her hand to silence him.

“I understand entirely.” She turned her head to the side to study a giant portrait of one of Andy’s female ancestors. “Listen you two, I know that this is a complicated situation. The only thing that will help is being forthright with the people.”

“If Astra meets grandmother, the people will be demanding a proposal by Christmas.”

“Perhaps so.”

“We’re not ready for that.” Andrew was keeping a lid on his princely composure, but Astra could tell he felt hopelessly trapped by his mother and the palace and his people beyond its walls. He was ready to rattle the cages.

Waverly nodded, “Your father and I will do everything we possibly can for you, you know that. We only want your happiness. But things are getting very intense, very fast out there. That’s happening because you’re choosing not to do things the conventional way. You must understand that.”

Very intense, very fast. That was Astra’s whole relationship with Andrew in a nutshell.

“It’s just a week and a half.” Astra reiterated. “Then I’ll be back in Illéa and the press can calm down for a while.”

“The speculation won’t stop until it is addressed by us, and it might even turn ugly.” Waverly warned. “When you stop giving them fresh photograph opportunities every day at your ballet house, when there aren’t rumors flying about sightings of the two of you all over London—“

“Not true, by the way.” Andrew said.

“Some of them could be.” Astra reminded him.

“Only the very old ones. We’ve not been out in a fortnight.”

Astra nodded.

“My point is, in a vacuum of real news, someone will invent rumors to splash on their tabloids. It will be anything and everything. Abuse, affairs, pregnancy out of wedlock, Astra will be a gold digger who broke Andy’s heart one week, the next week Andy will be a womanizing fiend who took advantage of a childhood friend. Relations between England and Illéa will be on the brink—“

“They won’t!” Astra objected.

“Only in the magazines.” Waverly replied. “But we wouldn't want any hostile nations thinking the rumors were true and attempting to take advantage of the supposed rift. You see how this could spiral?”

The room fell to silence for the first time. Astra shivered just a little, “I feel like I’ve been tossed into a tornado.”

“It gets better." Waverly promised. “Once you’re proactive about telling your own story, it gets harder for the media to frenzy over half-credible unattributed rumors.”

Astra buried her face in her hands. She’d thought she’d have years before she had to tell the media a story about her relationship with Andrew. It felt wrong that the people of England were forcing an eighteen year old girl to move so quickly.

“I just need time.” Astra said into her hands.

“Right.” Waverly made up her mind and stood, “In that case, Eoan and I are inviting you to stay here with us for the rest of your visit, Astra. We’ll tell the media that we’re very much looking forward to spending time with you before the end of your trip.”

“No, wait…” Astra looked up, heartbroken that she was losing her private little palace. Would she even get to go back and say goodbye to it?

“This isn’t a punishment, sweetheart.” Waverly sighed and then tugged Astra up to standing, pulling her into a tight hug. “You’re not in trouble. Not one little bit. You’ll have more privacy here, behind our gates and with all of our guards. You’ll have one of our cars to drive you to and from the ballet, and Andy won’t be caught coming and going at all hours of the night because he already lives here… or he did before you came to town.” she said the last part teasingly to her oldest son, who had the temerity to blush at his shamelessness.

Astra felt her eyes sting with tears, “I love that palace… it’s been a good home for me.”

Waverly smiled sweetly, “You’ll be welcome to stay there the next time you come back. If you and Andrew announce an engagement, we’ll fully staff the place for you so that it’s safer. Perhaps you and Andrew could use it as your home for the time between your marriage and his assumption of the crown.”

“Really?” Andrew looked enticed by the offer.

“You’ll need to live somewhere, dear. You couldn’t live with your parents as newlyweds, it would be unbearable.” Waverly teased. “England would never get an heir that way.”

Heirs.

Hearing the queen say that word in this palace, next to the crown prince made it feel very real and very scary. Did Astra want her kids to be heirs? She thought again of Addy and Jamesy… she loved them more than anything in the world, but she couldn’t imagine raising her children for such an incredible responsibility.

Waverly continued softly, “The main thing is, we need to be very delicate here, my loves. When Andrew becomes king, he will become the head of the church. Please understand, I do not mind what you the two of you do or don’t do, so long as you are safe and consenting.”

“Mother.” Andy squirmed.

“But it would put Andrew in a difficult position, becoming head of the church, if he was seen to have a… well a marriage-style relationship with a woman who was not his wife for too long.”

“Yes, heaven forbid I have a healthy, long-term girlfriend.” Andy scowled.

“It’s the vows to God that are the issue at hand, not heaven, and you know it.” Waverly scolded his sass quietly, but efficiently.

“So we break up.” Astra concluded. “We officially break up when I go back to Illéa, and then when it’s time, I come back to England and we publicly reunite… you don’t have any church issues, and I have time to dance.”

Waverly looked between them quietly. “It might be the only option, short of scheduling dinner with your grandmother.”

Andrew looked almost as sad as if the breakup was real. Maybe he was scared it would become real once Astra was out of the whirlwind. She laced her fingers with his and squeezed, “We’ll figure this out.”

He squeezed back twice, gently.

***

That night Astra slept in Andrew’s bedroom for the first time in their entire affair.

“The maids are gonna know.”

“Everyone knows.” he snorted into her hair. “That’s why we’re here and not across town in our own palace.”

“Your parents are in the building.” she complained when his hands began wandering her body.

“Not close enough to hear anything.”

“Still… what if they have to walk by for a glass of water or something?”

“You want me to keep my hands to myself tonight?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Oh, so shall we see who can be quietest?” he brushed his fingers across her ribs and she quietly shrieked a giggle. “You are so bad at this, darling.”

“Oh yeah?” she got her revenge with vicious tickles, exploiting every sensitive spot she’d found on his body the last few months.

***

Living in the English palace was an easy adjustment for Astra. She'd grown up in Illéa Palace which, as the functioning capital building of one of the largest nations in the world, was larger and had a much bigger staff. The English palace was certainly ancient and stately, but Astra had grown up visiting the place, so at least she wasn’t too dazzled to see this for what it was.

There was no more delivery from local restaurants once those palace gates were closed, but the royal chef made sure that Andy and Astra had everything they wanted delivered to one of their rooms each night, so that wasn’t actually too much of a change. Not only that, but the maids were discrete and only came onto their floor when Andrew was at work and Astra was at the ballet for the day, so it was almost like their bedrooms magically tidied themselves up each day.

Really, the biggest change for Astra had been weeks before, when rumors had started flying and she and Andrew had stopped venturing out into London. Andrew still appeared in her doorway just in time for dinner, looking handsome and happy to see her. They still shared good meals and long baths, and a warm bed each night. But now the illusion that time didn't exist and that they could continue peacefully, blissfully existing in their little bubble forever was burst.

Since the royal palace hadn't released a statement about the gorgeous young foreign princess living in the same palace as their handsome young future king, salacious headlines were beginning to trickle from tabloids to increasingly reputable news sources. Astra and Andrew's private affair wasn’t so private anymore.

Some part of Astra had been hoping that the rumors would die down once she and Andrew had retreated into the palace, even though she knew better. But on her second-to-final rehearsal before her big seminar performance, photographers started camping out overnight at the stage door to the ballet, not just hounding Astra but harassing her fellow dancers, too. It was humiliating to think that these world-class performers, some of whom Astra had idolized for years, were getting manhandled on their way to and from work every day because of Astra’s love life. She wasn’t sure her reputation in the industry would ever recover from this. Who would want to work with her when her very presence could cause such a disruption?

She cried in the backseat of the car on her way back to the royal palace that day, but she had big sunglasses on, and at least no photographers caught her moment of weakness.

“I don’t want to be the girl who’s dating the future king. I want to be a damn good dancer.” Astra said that night, her cheek pressed to Andrew’s chest as he drew swirling designs on her bare back with his fingers.

“You are both.”

“You don’t understand… you literally can’t.”

“What?” Andrew wasn’t insulted, which was the great thing about him. He was always humble about his own limitations. “Why can I not understand?”

“Have you ever looked up to someone who was truly excellent at the very thing that you wanted to be truly excellent at?”

“Of course.”

“Who?”

“King Maxon.”

Astra rolled her eyes and lifted her head so he could see her at it. “You met him when you could still count your age on one hand.”

“So?”

“So most people never get to meet their idols, and if they do it’s because they’ve worked extremely hard to become very good at something. There are choreographers and dancers at this seminar that I’ve admired for a decade. And now my presence is turning their workplace, a place I consider to be sacred, into a hostile circus.”

Andrew frowned down at her and said softly, “Did I not promise you terrifying clowns?”

“I don’t want to bring chaos to every stage I cross.” Astra pouted.

Andrew nodded and said, “So we should announce our breakup immediately. I’ll release a statement tomorrow, and ask a friend of mine to appear in public with me tomorrow night… a woman. It won’t cure everything overnight, but it would surely alleviate some of the pressure.”

Astra stared into his eyes, then studied the line of his nose, the cut of his cheekbones, the curve of his jaw. “That’s a lot of trouble to go through just for me.”

“Astra, are you joking? You’re the one going through trouble for me.”

Astra nodded, but she dropped a kiss onto his lips anyway. “Okay, but the breakup is fake.” her lips danced over his.

His teeth gently teased her lower lip as he replied, “Yeah. I noticed.”

***

As warm and inviting as the arms holding her were, Astra had a difficult time staying asleep that night. She was nervous about returning to rehearsals the next morning, nervous about their final performance, now only a couple of days away, nervous about her new relationship with Andrew, and nervous about being nervous about her new relationship with Andrew.

At around four in the morning she slipped out of bed and tiptoed back to her suite, where she found a pitcher of water and a tray of snacks waiting for her. She spent so many hours of her day exercising that sometimes she woke up in the middle of the night ravenously, painfully hungry, so she’d requested that she be left some snacks just in case. She picked at a scone, lost in her anxieties, and her stress about not being able to sleep, until the telephone next to her bed rang so loudly and shrilly that it caused her to jump and splash some of her glass of water onto her night shirt.

“Hello?” Astra picked up the phone, hoping to hear an Illéan voice on the other end of the line. She hadn’t spoken to Addy in a few days, and it had been almost a week since her Aunt Ames or Uncle Maxon had phoned. She hadn’t spoken to her parents in longer than that, but they’d be arriving in London in less that twenty-four hours so that they could watch her final performance, so she wasn’t too desperate to speak to them.

And while the voice on the other line was Illéan, it definitely wasn’t one she had been expecting.

“Hey.”

Astra’s stomach clenched and her body flooded with adrenaline. She reminded herself to behave like a normal person and not like a lunatic when, as casually as she could, she replied, “Kile? Is that you?” like she didn’t know. Like she wouldn’t know his voice anywhere, anytime, under any circumstance. She knew his voice better than she knew her own.

“Sorry, I know it’s the middle of the night over there. …You don’t sound like you were sleeping, though.”

He would know.

Astra gulped hard, “I needed a snack.” It was a lie, but it was close enough to the truth.

“Hm. Is he there then?”

Astra felt defensive anger flare up in her chest, and only later realized that the anger was covering a sense of guilt. “So what if he is? You broke up with me—“

“Astra—“

“No, it’s okay. I’m not saying that in a mean way. I’m stating a fact. We are not together because you broke up with me, so why do you care if he’s here?”

There was a long pause and then a low groan on the other end of the phone. Astra heard a brush of fabric over his microphone, as if he’d been rubbing his face and his sleeve caught on the receiver.

“I want to know if he’s there, because I want to talk to you when you’re alone. It’s why I’m calling so late… or early, I guess.” Kile said.

Astra’s traitor heart beat faster. What did he want to talk to her about when she was alone? Was he going to apologize? Was he going to ask for her back?

It was too late, obviously. Astra had obviously moved on. Obviously. “He’s not here.”

Kile sounded relieved when he said, “Good.” and that annoyed Astra. He had no right to be relieved that she wasn’t in bed with another man. He’d hurt her in a way she’d never known she could hurt before.

She lashed out, “I didn’t want to wake him up with my snacking. But he’ll probably notice I’m gone soon, so you should hurry up and say what you want to say.”

The pained sound that snuck out of his throat with his next exhale was not as satisfying as Astra had hoped it would be. She regretted her words already. Maybe now he wouldn’t ask for her back… not that she wanted him to.

Kile said, “Let me ask you something…”

This was it. He was going to ask for forgiveness. He was going to ask her to come back to Illéa and be with him.

“What do you want more than anything in the world?” Kile said.

What was he expecting her to say? That she wanted him? She was dating the Crown Prince of England!

“Astra?”

“What do you mean, Kile?”

“What do you mean, what do I mean? For our whole lives you’ve always wanted one thing more than anything in the world. What is it?”

Oh. Astra replied almost mechanically, her voice barely above a mumble, “I want to be the Prima Ballerina for the Angeles Ballet for at least a season, maybe two.”

“And you wanted that enough that you didn’t even think about moving closer to my university, because it would have taken you away from the Angeles ballet. And not for a good reason, like that invitation you got to dance in Waverly. For no reason. For me.”

“You’re not no reason—“

“No, I’m just not a good enough reason.”

“Kile—“

“You can’t argue with that.”

“You said you wouldn’t promise to look for apprenticeships and internships in the cities where I was dancing. You said you don’t want to live in Angeles when you grow up!”

“I don’t. I’m going to go where I can do my best work.” he said plainly. “I still think you and I made a good choice to split up.”

Hearing him say that was hard. She wanted him to regret it. She wanted him to miss her like she had missed him before Andrew had swept her off her feet. Losing him had changed her and she would never be the same as she was before, and he wasn’t even sorry.

Kile continued, “I’m just saying… what was the point of drawing a line in the sand about you and me if you were just going to walk all over it for Andy?”

“What?”

“We both know that you’ll never be prima anything if you marry Andy. You told me yourself, every waking hour of a prima’s life is devoted to dancing or preparing to dance. There are no hobbies, no vacations, no date nights. There definitely isn't time to be somebody’s princess.”

“I’m already an Illéan Prin—“

“Cut the shit, Astra, you know what I mean.” Kile sounded exasperated, and she knew why. She was trying to miss his point, but he wasn’t exactly being subtle about it so dodging it was proving impossible.

“Maybe I want something else now. Maybe I want to marry Andrew.”

“Look… Andy’s not a bad guy—“ Kile admitted through gritted teeth, “But there will be plenty of not bad guys waiting for you after you retire. So if you pick him, do it because you want the life he’ll give you more than the life you can earn for yourself. And be ready to bury your dreams of being a prima ballerina forever, if you do. I know you, and I know you’re getting swept up in this—“

“Don’t talk about me like I’m some helpless little… little damsel, Kile.” Astra snapped.

“Think about it logistically. Do you want to move to the other side of the world from your parents and your little brothers? They’ll visit you as often as they can, but your visits to Illéa will always be to the Palace, to King Maxon and Addy. You won’t be able to go home again. Do you want to have to keep a royal schedule, planned months and years in advance? And you can forget being around from Addy once she becomes queen, you’ll be trapped on the far side of an ocean.”

“Kile—“ Astra tried to interrupt him because she wanted him to stop making sense.

“What about the little things? What about the weather? You’re an Angeles girl, are you going to miss the sun? You know they use different numbers for temperature over there, right? How’s it going to feel to wake up in the morning and have some maid tell you that it’s twenty-five degrees outside, so you’d better stay in the shade to keep cool?”

“Kile.” Astra laughed.

“I’m serious. You’re not just choosing a career here, Astra, you’re choosing a life: from the moment you wake up to the moment you fall asleep.” Kile paused and let out a tired sigh. “I just don’t want you to make a big mistake that you can’t undo. I know how badly you want to dance. You’re not ready for this, and even if you were, this wouldn’t be the right choice for you.”

“I’ve changed, Kile.” she wanted to add that he’d changed her. That losing him had made her someone new, someone she didn’t even know yet, but she kept that part to herself. Listening to his voice for so long that night… suddenly she found that she didn’t want to hurt him anymore.

“It’s barely been three months, Astra. You haven’t changed that much.” he promised.

Astra wasn’t sure. Sometimes change was gradual, sure, but sometimes change was all at once. Traumatic change was a sudden shattering of what came before, such that one could never go back again. That was what losing Kile had been like.

But did that mean she wanted to give up dancing and become Andrew’s princess? His queen? His wife and the mother of his heirs? Did she want to leave Illéa forever and eventually move into this palace?

She wanted all of that when she was wrapped up in Andrew’s arms.

But here, alone in the middle of the night when she had her wits about her…

She climbed back into bed and woke Andrew up with steady, gentle kisses. Everything about the love they made that morning was slow and desperate, and even though she hadn’t meant it to, in the end it felt like goodbye.

***

Astra was gone to her final rehearsals before dawn, but later that morning Andrew was true to his word and made a big announcement that he and Astra had both been secretly dating, and were now publicly broken up. He made a good show of wandering around London looking sad that day, and that night he went out to dinner with a fashion model friend, who did not mind the publicity one little bit.

There were still plenty of photographers salivating at the chance to photograph Astra looking dismal at having lost the chance to become an English princess, but at least they were leaving the rest of the dancers, and everyone else associated with the ballet, in peace.

Astra’s parents arrived at the royal palace in time for dinner that night, and Astra had a lot of explaining to do to them. King Eoan and Queen Waverly seemed to find Astra’s discomfort at explaining her affair with Andrew to her parents over roasted asparagus incredibly amusing, and possibly reminiscent of the beginning of their own relationship. It wasn’t fair, though. Andrew missed all the “fun”, making sure it looked like he was rebounding with that gorgeous model.

That night, Astra was too nervous about her impending final performance to wait up for Andrew to get back to the Palace. She could go to bed early or never at all. She drank some tea laced with a little bit of melatonin and fell asleep soon after dinner.

She woke up in Andrew’s arms, her cheek pressed to the side of his bare chest. She listened to him breathe deeply and evenly for a little while and tried one last time.

She could quit dancing.

She could leave Illéa forever.

She could raise her children to be heirs.

Her children could raise their children to be heirs.

When she died, her bones could be interred in a big old church.

Her whole life could be that easy.

God, it would be so easy.

“Andy?” she whispered.

He didn’t stir.

“Andrew?” she tried again, this time pulling away from him and sitting up in bed.

He didn’t hear her, but he reacted to the loss of her warmth, and eventually his heavy eyelids fluttered open. “Astra?”

“What time did you get in last night?”

“This morning.” He admitted, yawning widely. “I expect the tabloids will be plastered with headlines about their debaucherous future king today.”

“Was it any fun?”

“Yeah. Ellie’s great; she’s always happy to be photographed on my arm. Missed you, though.” he added, as if suddenly awake enough to worry that she was jealous.

She wasn’t the slightest bit jealous. Well, the slightest bit, but not for the reasons he would assume. Astra was jealous because Ellie could keep being photographed on Andrew’s arm for as long as she pleased, with no consequences.

“Maybe you should marry Ellie.” Astra suggested.

Andrew laughed, and it turned into a yawn. Then he explained, “Ellie’s too focused on her career right now. And anyway, she’d be far more interested in you.”

“Now that would be a tabloid headline.” Astra joked weakly.

“What’s the matter? Are you nervous for your performance? Is it because you’re leaving England this time tomorrow? Is it because you told your parents what’s been happening between us—“

“I’m not nervous.” Astra said, even though her stomach was in knots. Those weren’t nerves. That was grief. “Andy… I want to be a ballet dancer.”

Andrew sat up in bed now and rubbed the sleep from his eyes so he could focus on her. The words were familiar, but her tone was alarming. “Of course you do. You are a ballet dancer, and you’re bloody brilliant.”

“I want to be a prima ballerina.”

“Okay.”

“That sort of excellence takes years to achieve.”

“Good job you’ve been dancing since you were four years old, then.”

“Shh.” she pressed a finger to his lips so that he would stop talking back and listen to her. He complied. “I won’t be ready to be a prima for seven or eight years. I have a lot to learn. And when I’m ready, I want to be a Prima Ballerina for at least one season, maybe two. That’s every waking hour devoted to dance for two years straight. Then I want to live in Angeles and stay close to Addy in the first few years of her reign. I want to be there when she gets married and has babies, because she is great at putting on a brave face and absolutely terrible at processing the emotions that are scaring her into needing to be brave. She’s going to need me, and I’m excited to be there for her. I can’t live on a different continent than my dad. There can’t such a huge time difference between me and my mom. I can’t be a foreign queen. I don’t want to be foreign at all. Andrew… I can’t marry you.” Her cheeks were wet and her voice cracked, but she didn’t know when, in that little breathless tirade, she’d started crying.

Andrew stared blankly ahead, hugging his knees to his chest around their blanket. He didn’t look surprised. He’d known she was too good to be true all along. Finding his queen could never have been so easy, so perfect. He shouldn’t have gotten his hopes up.

“Andy, none of those reasons I gave have anything to do with you. I love you. You’re a good man, and a great partner, and you have no business being such a talented kisser when you’re so handsome. It’s overkill.” she waited for him to smile. She waited for him to do anything. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Andrew. I just can’t marry you. I’m eighteen years old, I just got control of my life. I’m not ready to sign it over to a monarchy. I would love to be your wife, Andy, but I would hate to be your queen.”

Andrew blinked hard, then looked over at her. His voice was too casual, his words were too easy when he said, “I understand entirely. I can wait.”

Astra furrowed her brow, trying to hold his far off gaze. “Wait? What do you mean, wait?”

“You want to be a prima ballerina, and you said it would take you nine or ten years to accomplish your goal. Fine. I will wait, and when you’re ready I’ll ask to marry you.”

“No, Andy—“

“I don’t mind ruling on my own for a while.”

“That’s more than a while! You’ll be king in four years—“

“It isn’t a problem.” he insisted.

“Did you hear the part about what I want to do after I retire? About living in Illéa, about staying close to my family?”

“Astra, once we’re married, you can do whatever you like.”

“But queens have responsibilities.”

“We can redefine the role to mean whatever you’d like it to mean. I don’t care. I love you, Astra, and you’re the best future queen I could ever hope for.”

Astra paused, blinking hard against the tears in her eyes. It hurt to hear him say that. It hurt to realize that he didn’t believe he deserved any better. “Andy, that’s not true. You deserve a wife who will stay by your side. You deserve a wife who adores you and would be willing to sacrifice her own ambitions to serve England. I’m not good enough to be your queen.”

“Then no one ever will be.”

“Andrew—“

“Let me wait for you, Astra, please.” His voice broke on that last work, his eyes finally meeting hers and betraying his anguish. “Let me hope. It’s all that I have left.”

Astra couldn’t figure out what would be crueler, to let him hope when she’d made up her mind, or to take that hopeless hope away from him.

So she wrapped him up in her arms and they laid down. She combed her fingers through his hair and he brushed his thumb against her ribs until her alarm clock rang and her last day in London began.

***

In retrospect, Astra should have chosen a happy, upbeat, peppy song for her exhibition. She could have flounced all over the stage and spun a ridiculous number of times on her toes, and allowed her partner to toss her all over the place with an enormous smile on her face.

Instead, she’d chosen an exhibition from a ballet about a woman mourning her dead lover, dancing with his ghost. She’d been thinking of Kile when she’d chosen it, hoping it would help her work out her feelings about their doomed childhood romance. Now she was about to take the stage of the royal ballet, with Andrew and his parents in the royal box, watching her close enough that she could see the pained look on Andrew’s face as clear as anything.

Astra and her dance partner, Geoffrey, took their place while the stage was lit in nothing but the darkest of blue lights. He laid down across on their only set piece, an enormous fake rock, and Astra settled over him in a dramatic pose of despair, arm flung over her forehead.

The first part of the dance was hers alone. Her grief, her agony, her desperation. None of it was fake. When Geoffrey arose, as a ghost, and began dancing with her, the bittersweet mixture of joy and sorrow was easy to tap into. Nothing brought her more joy than dancing, and nothing brought her more sorrow in that moment than Andrew watching her live the life she’d chosen over him.

When Geoffrey faded back into the fog upstage and left Astra alone again in the center of the stage, all the passion and desperation fled with him. The rest of the dance was small and slow, painfully precise movements timed with the orchestra just so that if she made the slightest misstep, it would be immediately, embarrassingly obvious.

But Astra did not have to fake the exhaustion and resignation her character was feeling. If she allowed herself to second guess her decision to break away from Andrew now, she’d second guess it forever. The roar of the audience as the last tremulous notes from the string section died away seemed to make a deafening contrast.

Astra was surprised to find tears had started pouring down her cheeks somewhere during that performance. Geoffrey returned and took her hand, and they bowed. As was customary for this exhibition, several members of the audience threw flowers onto the stage. From the third row, Astra’s dad threw a whole bouquet, and a little teddy bear. Astra laughed as she wiped the tears from her cheeks. Then she turned to the royal box to curtsey, perfectly observing royal protocol, and was startled to find that Andrew had been crying, too.

He tossed her a single white rose with a beautiful red satin ribbon tied around the stem, but the look on his face was resignation. He could love her with all of his heart for all of his life and still never be able to give her the kind of affirmation she got from a packed theater full of an adoring audience. He’d seen her dance dozens of times in her room at her little palace, and hell, he’d even danced with her himself. But seeing her like this in front of them…

He could wait until the oceans ran dry and the mountains fell flat, and every single star in the sky flickered into darkness… Astra was never coming back to him.

Astra spent that night with her parents, letting them gush over her and spoil her with presents, and help her pack up the life she’d made in London for the last few months. She hoped Andrew would come and say goodbye once her parents went back to the suite they were staying in, but he never appeared, and Astra didn’t chase him down because she thought he deserved to set the terms. That dance had been her goodbye to him. It was up to him whether he wanted to say goodbye in return.

The next morning, Queen Waverly was the only one in the entrance hall waiting to see the Orders family off as they left. The English Royal jet would take them as far as Carolina, where they would visit James’ family for a little while.

Astra imagined Andrew’s private car speeding out onto the tarmac to stop them. She imagined him dashing from the backseat and waving his arms to alert the pilots that they couldn’t leave until he’d said his farewells.

He didn’t come. It was easier this way.

Kenna and James stayed with Astra’s grandparents for a few days, but James had to go back to work and Kenna needed to get back to the Palace. Aunt Ames had five children, two of them under the age of six, and though they had plenty of help in that Palace, Kenna was their primary nanny, their aunt, and she missed them like crazy.

Astra stayed with her grandparents for a couple of weeks, until her contract at the Waverly Ballet began. The media frenzy around her got much better in that time, though it was impossible not to notice that things were staying hectic around Andrew as the English tabloids seemed to catch on to how severely he’d had his heart broken.

Astra wished she could take some of that public shame away.

She wished she could take some of his pain away, even as she was mending her own broken heart. Her weeks in Carolina were good for that purpose. Her grandparents spoiled her rotten, and she gave her body a much-needed break from dancing. Instead, she spent her days learning needlepoint from her grandmother, and her nights stargazing out by the pond where her parents used to sneak off on dates before Gramma Magda gave up trying to convince Kenna to marry someone from a higher caste.

When Astra packed her bags to take the short flight up to Waverly to begin yet another new life with another new ballet company, she was still wearing the beautiful red ribbon that Andrew gave her as a parting gift on that rose, tied around her wrist.

And when, years later, she sat on her sofa and watched him become King of England in front of the entire world, her fingers traced that now slightly frayed red ribbon, Andy’s last gift to her, in a familiar, much-practiced gesture.

It would have been so easy to say yes, to give in to the pressure and let herself get swept away by the English people, the royal traditions, the prince’s staggering blue eyes. It would have been a good life, too. A perfectly fine marriage.

But Astra didn’t want to be queen, and now she wouldn’t have to be, and the freedom she felt watching Andrew bear the weight of that crown was all the reminder she needed: she made the right decision. And now, despite the dull ache of longing in her chest for he boy she’d loved and left behind, she was happy. Truly happy. She was at peace with her past, content in her present, and excited for her future.

When the coronation coverage ended, Astra got ready to return to bed. She was surprised when her phone rang, but she knew exactly who it would be.

“Mom?” she said, before the person on the other line could say a word. Her little cousins would have had just enough time to be tucked back into bed by now, if Aunt May was helping. Kenna would have rushed to the phone as soon as she got the chance.

“Sweetie? How are you, little bug?”

“I’m fine, Mom, I don’t need the pet names.” Astra grinned, rolling her eyes.

“Are you sure?” Kenna double-checked.

“Yeah. I wish Andrew wasn’t alone up there. I still love him, I don’t want him to suffer. But I was nothing but relieved when they put that crown on his head and I didn’t have to put one on mine. I made the right choice.”

“I know you did, honey, but just because you did the right thing doesn’t mean you have to feel perfectly fine about it. Especially not on a night like this.”

“Honestly, Mom… my time in London feels like another life. One I’m nothing but grateful for, but not one I want to relive.”

At first, Astra’s spring with Andrew felt like it had never really happened, or like it had happened to someone else, or like it was all a fever dream: too hot, too heady, a surreal hallucination more than a fairytale fantasy. But now, with some time and space, Astra could see it for what it really was: a romantic affair with someone she could have chosen to marry, but who ultimately was not the right fit for her. On the one hand, Astra and Andrew loved each other, and their marriage would have been fine: they’d known each other forever and they each fully understood the challenges of the royal life they would have been embarking on together.

On the other hand, Astra had known what she wanted out of life since she was a very small girl. It was a hard thing to ask an eighteen year old to walk away from a guaranteed royal wedding for a chance to work very hard to one day, possibly, make her dream come true. If Astra hadn’t grown up in Illéa Palace, she might not have made the same choice. But everything she got out of her life from now on was truly hers, she was the captain of her own fate, and even if she failed and never became a prima ballerina, at least this way she’d have had the chance.

“But Mom?”

“Hm?”

“Don’t ever tell Gramma Magda that Andrew proposed to me and I turned him down. I think she would disown me.”

#challenge #Astra and Andrew Challenge #RIP your dashes if the Keep Reading doesn't work #its almost 16000 words long #one for every tear I cried breaking Andrew's heart

[curioussubjects]

come be a season 12 truther with me; or what if dean and cas got together offscreen

Originally, I wrote this post to celebrate “Galaxy Brain” airing as Berens & Glynn gave us “The Future.” It’s been a while since that episode aired, and some things have changed about this meta. As such, there are multiple versions of this post floating around, so make sure to go back to the source for the most up to date version.  For all intents and purposes, this post functions as a meta manifesto not unlike shipping manifestos from days of LJ past. In keeping with that tradition, this post is a close reading of Dabb Era Destiel in which I argue that by using narrative gaps, queer coding, and romance tropes, Dean and Cas are shown to be in an established relationship. Although beyond the scope of this post, it’s worth pointing out that keeping Destiel mostly off screen was a way for the creatives to bypass network censorship while still remaining true to the characters.

This post is divided into three sections. Section I focuses on giving an overview of why earlier seasons of Supernatural aren’t as compelling as season 12 as a turning point for Dean and Cas’s relationship. That said, special consideration is given to 09.06 “Heaven Can’t Wait” as a potential rest stop in our journey due to it’s significantly placed narrative gap as well as themes in the episode. However, this post isn’t going to examine season 9 trutherism in depth, though it does coexist with and allow for it. Section II analyses season 12 and proposes a timeline and justification for the shifting Destiel dynamic. Finally, Section III will offer an analysis of how Dean and Cas’s relationship has changed dramatically from previous seasons in a way that is most like the shift from a “will they or won’t they” pairing to an established one. 

Before I move to Section I, I’d like to note something this post takes for granted: Dean and Cas are the main romantic subplot of Supernatural, and, in fact, their relationship is elevated to main plot for both characters in season 15. This post won’t argue about the canonicity of Dean and Cas’s feelings for each other, therefore, and so won’t spend time looking at many Destiel defining moments. I’d also like to make clear that this post also takes for granted that Destiel is being intentionally developed by the writers starting with Carver’s Era, and more so in Dabb’s. 

I. Why Seasons 4 through 11 May Not be It

The tl;dr. here is that while there are many moments throughout these seasons that Dean and Cas could potentially get together, none of those moments are ideal for a bunch of reasons that can be summed up as really bad timing. I also think the narrative is actively pushing them towards a moment that works. We get plenty of stepping stones, especially once we hit seasons 8 through 11 (and 11 most of all).

Seasons 4 & 5:

I know there’s been a lot of get together fics over the years set in this time period, but I just don’t see it. Do I see them being intrigued and drawn to each other? Yes. Do I think either Cas or Dean would act on it? Nope. I’m not arguing anything re: Dean’s feelings, but with everything going at the time I find it hard to believe he’d pursue anything with his angel friend. Most importantly here, though, is that during this time Cas was still very alien and other. There was too much angel in him, and while he obviously came to care about Dean (and Sam) very much, I just can’t see him navigating the realm of human relationships. That said, seeing human!Cas in “The End” is the first we see of potential developments for how Cas could behave without his angelness interfering. Being human changes Cas a lot, beyond even his experience existing among humans, though that of course matters too. This development will be important later /wink.

Seasons 6 & 7:

Before anything else let me just recognize that if we could see some sexual tension in seasons 4 & 5, these two seasons come with our first taste of romantic tension. The pining! Also note the difference between season 4 Cas and season 6 Cas in terms of behaviour. He is much less the angel we saw in that barn in “Lazarus Rising.” In season 6, we have a Cas making misguided decisions guided entirely by his emotions – namely, not wanting to involve Dean with the war in heaven – which is peak human, honestly. Put a pin on how sad Dean is in both seasons with Cas’s absence. Finally, put a pin on this being our first moment of Cas doing things on his own to spare Dean and it not ending well (soulless!Sam, Cas “dying” after Leviathan) because this is *the* hurdle in their relationship (along with Dean’s lashing out and self-worth issues). With all this said, the marked distance between Dean and Cas in these seasons negates the possibility of them entering into any kind of relationship. Much like seasons 4 and 5, there’s too much going on.

Season 8:

Ah, yes, the summer of purgatory. If you thought we had pining before…! I think we’re all very clear on season 8 being a turning point for the show, not only because new showrunner, but we also get the bunker. TFW now has an HQ, which pretty soon becomes home. Yes, Baby will always be home, but the bunker becomes the *unmovable* safe haven that Baby couldn’t be. The bunker is a place to coalesce, and for all the amazing things Baby is, she is not that. The acquisition of the bunker marks a shift in the psychology of the show: with the stable home space we can start to imagine domesticity, a place to come home to, the stuff of ordinary living. Most of all, the bunker is emblematic of security, of safety –keep this in mind, as we go forward.

This season also continues to see Cas go down the path of independently solving his problems instead of asking for help from Sam and Dean (his family in a way heaven never was) – note that the better together issue is at play in different ways with Sam and Dean also, but I digress. I also want to point out disastrous instance #2 of Cas’s insistence on figuring it out on his own: he loses his grace, and the angels fall. As for Dean, season 8’s focus for him has much to do with Sam, and them coming face to face with their issues with codependency, which hit catastrophic levels with the gates of hell and Gadreel plots.

So despite all the deliciously angsty get together purgatory fics and spec, there’s too much distance between Dean and Cas on Cas’s part due to his guilt over betraying the Winchesters in s6 plus slaughtering angels plus unleashing Leviathan. We do see Dean being more emotionally open with Cas and continue to voicing his wish that Cas would just stay with him and Sam, and let them help. It’s clear as day how much Dean cares. The timing is still bad, though.

Before moving on to next season, let’s take a moment to appreciate that this is the season Dean admits being kinda done with one night stands because “always with the adios.” Remember the bunker as a sign of stability? Yeah. I wouldn’t say Dean is craving a relationship, exactly, but I think we can see that he does want something more (ahem also I’m nodding to Cas refusing to stay put just cause).

Seasons 9 & 10:

The most important thing to happen between this two seasons is Cas’s stint as a human for an extended period of time. There’s been plenty of spec and meta written over the years about the effects of being human on Cas’s grace (a proto-soul now maybe?). What we can say for sure, regardless, is that Cas is much more humanized once he becomes an angel again. The understanding he gets from being human doesn’t go away once he regains his angel powers. You’ll notice that while we still see some of season 4’s characterization, Cas is not the same as he was – he is alien to angels now and is more intelligible to humans. Additionally, in an interesting reversal from previous seasons, we now get to see the depth of Cas’s feelings for Dean (thanks, Metatron) as well as seeing him be more open emotionally, while Dean does most of the pushing away (first because of Gadreel, then because of the Mark of Cain). In short, the timing is still bad as Dean and Cas are largely kept apart both physically and emotionally.

9.06 Heaven Can’t Wait

This episode is my white whale, friends. While I’ve come to fully subscribe to the idea that something did happen between Dean and Cas during the fanfic gap, I don’t actually think it’s feasible that it marked the start of a relationship -- be it sexual or romantic. My reasoning here is quite simple: the timing is bad. Were it not for external events (Cas regaining his Grace and Dean taking on the MoC), the course would have likely differed. Furthermore, Dean’s guilt over making Cas leave the bunker as well as Cas’s own hurt and self-loathing pose a significant and as yet insurmountable obstacle, which is easily seen with how Dean and Cas’s character trajectories go separate ways.

YMMV on what exactly happened between them in that Motel, but something definitely did. Perhaps one day I’ll have a proper s9 trutherism post to link to here for more details (likely won’t be written by me, though). 

10.16 Paint It Black

From the point Dean gets the MoC until the end of season 10, anything between him and Cas is quite impossible due to distancing, to say the least. Again, yes, the fic is really good, but alas. One of the reasons I’m bringing up this episode in particular is because of the confession scene. One, it’s a rare bit of explicit emotional honesty from Dean, and two, it tells me that while he and Cas may be well aware of the Thing™ between them, it’s still uncharted waters. It’s scary, and murky, and they’re unsure how to navigated it or if they should even try. Makes sense, too, there’s been A LOT going on since s6. Anyway, he’s the full confession:

You know, the life I live, the work I do…I pretty much just figured that that was all there was to me, you know? Tear around and jam the key in the ignition and haul ass until I ran out of gas. I guess I just thought sooner or later, I’d go out the same way that I live – pedal to the metal, and that would be it. […]  Now, um… recent events, uh… make me think I might be closer to that than I really thought. And…I don’t know. I mean, you know, there’s – there’s things, there’s…people, feelings that I-I-I want to experience differently than I have before, or maybe even for the first time. […]  Yeah, I’m just starting to think that… maybe there’s more to it all than I thought.

Can I just say, first, that this confession keeps me up at night because we never actually see anything done with it explicitly? I mean, obviously, I think we do in fact see the effects of this confession in the show, otherwise I wouldn’t be writing this behemoth, but still, like. Damn. Ok, so, remember when I brought up that thing in season 7 about Dean being kinda done with hook-ups? Here’s where that led us. We’re seeing a Dean here who wants more than what he has convinced himself he gets to have. He wants more than dying bloody. And when he talks about wanting to experience people and feelings differently, well, that says a lot not just on the queer coding front or the romantic front. I mean, jfc, Dean is accepting the idea that he can have more in life than just hunt until he drops, and he’s specifically talking about experiences at the interpersonal level.

Do you ever see a character having an epiphany and find yourself wanting to cry because this is it right here. Dean is just blatantly admitting he wants more and maybe he can make himself be open to that (!!!), which all culminates in season 11, so…

Season 11:

The pining is still here, but it’s worse now since it’s the whole plot? It’s been *checks calendar* 5 years of this. How are any of us still kicking I don’t know. Your slow burns could never. Cool worth noting points: Cas says yes to Lucifer (bad decision #2.5, lots of mitigating effects_I don’t actually hold it against him that much but Dean is another story & not entirely rational at this point); for the first time since the early days, Dean and Cas are on equal grounds: they’ve both fucked up a lot and have hurt each other. The issues this season are outside their dynamic. Amara and Lucifer here serve as externalizing forces for Dean and Cas’s problems: Cas checks out with Lucifer because he thinks it’s the only way he can help, Dean is caught up in the turmoil of Amara, the emblem of absence and avoidance of struggle. We do get something like an affirmation from the two of them to each other via Dean calling Cas his brother (and I want y’all to consider the historical queering of that statement, and Cas’s “I could go with you.” It feels like we’re headed to them being on the same page. By the end of the season, though, it feels like we’re getting a clean slate: Mary is back, nobody died, no end-of-the-world in sight, no interpersonal crisis. We’re also getting a new showrunner, so. No wonder. We’re gearing up for something, but I’m getting ahead of myself. What this season does that is super important is that it sets up the stage for the possibility of an actual relationship between Dean and Cas, something that has, up until this point, been pretty much impossible.

11.04 Baby

Y’all know what I’m about to quote here, right? That conversation between Dean and Sam about having something with someone who understands the life. Here we still have Dean reverting to the idea that it’s impossible, which is a direct contrast to the openness in 10.16. It’s understandable, though, considering there’s been little reason to think anything like that would be possible (see all the mess and poor timing from seasons past). The quote in question, though, marks a continuing development regarding the issues Dean is struggling with this season:

DEAN: Piper? That’s awesome. Heather. One-night wonders, man. Shoot, we’re lucky we still get that at all. SAM: Really? You don’t … Ever want something more? DEAN: I’m sorry, have you met us? We’re batting a whopping zero in domestic life, man. Goose eggs. SAM: You don’t ever think about something? Not marriage or whatever. But … Something? You know, with a hunter? Somebody who understands the life?

We wouldn’t be talking about this stuff all these years after Sam and Dean had a serious relationship if it wasn’t important, right? Also who else do we meet this season? That’s right! Eileen! And doesn’t that hit different with season 15 hindsight? And who does Dean have that understands the life? Whose stories have been intricately connected to his? Right now, this is all conjecture. A pipe dream Sam is revisiting, and Dean is skeptical about. Except, well. Look at what we get in “Into the Mystic” and “The Chitters.”

11.11 Into The Mystic

I’m bringing up this episode as a cross reference to “Paint It Black” as well as to complement the talk from “Baby,” and to show, again, that, for all the closeness between Dean and Cas, there’s still a marked distance they haven’t yet bridged. There’s still truths they haven’t told each other. Thanks Mildred for the delicious exposition:

Darlin’…If there’s one thing I’ve learned in all my years on the road, it’s when somebody’s pining for somebody else. […] Oh, don’t try and hide it now. Follow your heart. Remember?

11.19 The Chitters

And here we see some validation to Sam’s imagining of a possible future with someone else. We actually see hunters who not only are married, but they both make it out alive. Jesse and Cesar get their happy ending. They make the dream come true. And the reality of it important not just for Dean to see, but Sam too.

Dean: [with realization] Oh, so … [points back and forth to Jesse and Cesar] Cesar: Yeah. Dean: Okay, that’s… Cesar puts his beer bottle on the table and looks at Dean, while Jesse is being silent. Dean: What’s it like, settling down with a hunter? Cesar: Smelly, dirty. [turns to Jesse] Twice the worrying about getting ganked.

I’d like to point out, too, that the fear of getting ganked is thematic when it comes to the tension between Dean and Cas. More on this when we hit s13.

Alright, now, having said that, let’s take a look at season 12. Bear in mind, this is the official start of Dabb’s era, even if he kinda began taking over in season 11, and the change in vibes is obvious. In fact, 12 jumped out at me as a turning point, in hindsight, after getting smacked by the domesticity of seasons 13 and 14.

II. Why Season 12

[Out of date section. Update coming soon when spoons. After significant debate, I’ve altered the definitive start of Dean and Cas’s friend-with-benefits-with-mutual-pining relationship to between 12.02 and 12.03. I briefly explained why here, and yes it’s a shitpost--still true tho.]

Finally, the promise land, y’all. Getting right to it: what s11 was for Dean in terms of setting up the relationship stage, s12 was for Cas. In its initial beats, any way. That is, until the Kelly debacle, this was the longest Cas has been around the bunker and with the exception of seasons 13 and 14, it’s one of the first times we get to see how Cas might actually fit into the bunker-as-home. Things seem remarkably chill. Of course, we’ll notice that there’s still a lot of baggage hanging around because despite Dean and Cas being in a more stable place, they haven’t actually dealt with their interpersonal problems. I didn’t single out directly this episode, but do keep in mind Cas’s declaration in 12.09 First Blood as far as how much the Winchesters matter to Cas & how we also see Dean and Cas be particularly singled out with them seating together in the backseat of the Impala. What we also see this season is Cas trying to prove he is worthy of this family, his family. He’s not fighting for heaven or to right some grievous wrong (a la s8). No, this season he’s fighting to spare the Winchester, to bring them a win. To bring Dean a win. The major disconnect is that Dean (and Sam & Mary) already sees Cas that way, he doesn’t think Cas has anything to prove. And just maybe, Cas starts believing that too – or, at least, believing it enough.

12.10 Lily Sunders Has Some Regrets

This episode, oh my god, the goodness. In the wake of 12.09 we have Dean and Cas in a tiff because Cas mistake #3 (killing Billie and “cosmic consequences”), this is a pattern. Twice the worry of getting ganked, etc etc. But where this episode really shines is through the contrast between Ishim’s obsession with Lily and Cas & Dean’s mutual affection for each other. Ishim sees no difference here and, to him, Cas’s feelings for Dean are a human weakness. Returning to my point about human!Cas, this episode underscores that Cas’s increasing humanity is what puts him in the place where he can want what Dean wants instead of either being too alien to get it (see s4 & 5) or unable to experience it properly (Ishim).

12.12 Stuck in the Middle (With You)

Cas’s trajectory culminates here with the whole I love you (@ Dean), I love all of you (@ Winchesters). Let’s note too that Cas is dying here, in a way that is much more human than going up in light. This declaration of different types of love is entirely human. It’s also a definitive step wrt to Cas and Dean’s relationship because of what happens in 12.19. This. is. it. Oh, and, of course, let’s not forget to point to Dean’s face when Cas says that “I love you,” and how terrified he is that Cas is dying. Might make one rethink some things, hm?

12.19 The Future

This episode is simply hella suspicious, and all the kudos to Berens and Glynn for writing it. It’ll haunt me forever. Consider watching it again and just questioning everything. So. Weird things:

1. Dean’s reaction to Cas no getting in touch as opposed to Sam’s. Dean is pissed, which is Dean-speak for worried out of his mind. Sam is very worried, too, and puzzled, but he’s mostly expressing his relief that Cas is back. But Cas has gone awol before, but this time Dean is much more worked up about it; Sam takes note of this, too. Now, let’s imagine that maybe the events of 12.12 led to something happening between Dean and Cas. Then Cas decided to leave to find a lead on Kelly, but eventually Cas decides to work with Heaven and goes radio silent. For days. Having taken a chance, and something having happened between them, how would Dean react to Cas just going poof and not contacting him – despite Dean having called Cas multiple times.

2. Cas knows about the Colt. Ok, nothing off there. But when he goes to Dean’s room to talk, right after Dean leaves we see Cas looking around briefly. Like he know Dean would keep it in there. Maybe Cas had looked other places already. Who knows. What we do know is that eventually he does find the Colt not only in Dean’s room, but under Dean’s pillow. Sam didn’t even know the Colt wasn’t in the safe. So how did Cas know?

3.“He came into my room and he played me.” So, this quote right there, makes it seem like some seduction for personal gain, right? But can you see Cas actually doing that if they hadn’t gone there previously? For Dean not to suspect anything and go with it? There’s plenty of plausible deniability here, but the gaps in time in the narrative make me question what is there in those spaces. The scene where Cas tried to give Dean the mixtape back doesn’t read like “playing,” so it’s about a different interaction. Hm. Hmmm.

4. Dean and Cas’s brief conversation in Dean’s room is clearly Dean just wanting Cas to stay, so they can work (and be) together – because they’re better that way. Which, yeah, truth, but also ow.

5.And most importantly: When did Dean give Cas that mixtape??? How did that happen?

Sequence of events: Cas tells Dean he loves him – Dean is clearly shook by it – Dean gives Cas a mixtape (romantic gesture, often a declaration of feelings; in true Dean speak too lolsobs) – Cas goes awol - Dean acts like he got ghosted by his new bf -?????- Cas somehow knows the Colt is under Dean’s pillow – "He went into my room and he played me."

What am I supposed to do with that, hm? Like. Y’all realize they probably had some emotionally constipated getting together moment, right? Something that Dean clearly initially thought meant things were gonna change, now. Something that Cas couldn’t allow to happen until he could give Dean a win. Y’all are seeing this, yeah? I’m not saying they slept together and were full of feelings, except that’s kind of what I’m saying. But YMMV, there are other possibilities beyond sex. The full of feelings isn’t up for debate, though, even if the whole thing is informed by ridiculous amounts of miscommunication.

III. Seasons 13 through 15 As Established Relationship

Regardless of what happened in season 12, exactly, I can’t shake the feeling that something did happen, and something did change. My reasoning here is actually really simple: in comparison to previous seasons, Dean and Cas’s dynamic shifts significantly come season 13. I know some folks have been disappointed with some of season 13 and then season 14 for having dialed back on the destiel side of things. And, hey, maybe there’s truth to that in terms of backstage stuff, but I also want to point out that...well, the dialing back isn’t quite dialing back is it? Let’s look at 13 a little more closely:

Season 13:

So I said the deancas dynamic changed, right? I also think that change caught us unaware because the pivotal turning point that would cue us in never happened on screen as well as being subsumed by Cas’s death and Jack’s birth. But if I ask you about deancas in season 13 what would come to mind? Grief arc? Brokebacknatural? How domestic Dean and Cas are? There’s just something easy about their relationship after Cas returns from the Empty. The tension we’d grown so familiar with over the years is gone. Actually, it feels like we skipped the getting together bit of their relationship and went straight to established relationship and parenting. Some of the most peak married deancas moments we see circulating? Season 13, (and 12.10). It’s a lot, and it’s different, and it’s amazing.

13.01-13.05

Dean’s grief mini-arc. He was acting like a widower. Here’s me vaguely gesturing towards the mapping of Jonh, Mary, Dean, and Sam onto Dean, Cas, Sam, and Jack. And the reunion? I can’t help but be giddy at the song choice: “it’s never too late to start all over again.” To. Start. All. Over. Again. I’m just saying.

13.06 Tombstone & 13.16 Scoobynatural

I’m not going at length about these episodes, I just want to point out that they reveal that Dean and Cas have a whole thing going on off screen: they watch movies together, Cas knows about Dean being an angry sleeper, Cas seems to have been aware of the Dean-cave before Sam was. It’s little things like this that are examples of the narrative gaps surrounding Dean and Cas that have cropped up over the years. I don’t think it’s unreasonable to wonder what else could be hiding there. And when did the movie nights alluded in “Tombstone” happen? Maybe in season 12 when Cas in hanging around the bunker? The same period when Dean and Cas seem to be coalescing into something safer and more stable? Something that we never see come to a head because plot happens and Cas dies? Something that is immediately taken back up once Cas is alive again?

Season 14:

Overall, this season is more of what we got during 13, but it had two high notes I wanted to single out before ending this already too long post.

14.15 Peace of Mind

Look me in the eye and tell me Dean and Cas talking in the kitchen about Jack doesn’t read like husbands talking about their child. Look me in the eye and tell me Cas just texting Dean to gossip about Sam isn’t couple-y as hell.

14.18-14.20

Ah, yes, the divorce arc. Awful. Terrible. The culmination of Dean’s problem in all this: he lashes out, he pushes Cas away, his anger is alienating. Cue all of us suffering. But while Dean is clearly in the wrong in how the deals with his feelings, let’s not pretend some of his anger doesn’t come from a long established, and unaddressed, rift between him and Cas, which had its last traumatic turn when Cas died in s12. Dean isn’t being rational here: he saw Cas doing something on his own, and he saw that his mother is dead. What else could happen? Why won’t Cas just trust they can work as a team? What if Cas died again? And why should Cas put up with Dean’s behavior without knowing the cause? How can any relationship work this way? But notice how caught in the middle Sam was during all this. Notice how Jack is running off and acting out. The whole family is falling apart. Divorce arc, indeed.

Season 15:

But what about what we’re building up in 15? That seems like it could be a getting together plot, too, right? Well, yeah. It could very well be. But I’d argue the tension we’re seeing isn’t a will-they-or-won’t-they because they already have. We’re are watching a getting back together plot! The tension is, instead, will-they-or -won’t-they use their words to talk about the baggage that has kept them from truly being confident about their relationship. That’s the crucial step in their togetherness that they’re still missing, which is also the bedrock of the divorce arc that spanned twelve fucking episodes -- y’all, that’s half a season.

And technically? We’re not even done with yet because Cas never let Dean finish his prayer/confession in purgatory. What’s more, Cas hasn’t grappled with his role in the breakdown of their relationship, either: that he keeps going off on his own and getting hurt (and getting other people hurt), and Dean has to deal with the fallout. The deep emotional understanding, the truly being on the same page is what we’re on the edge of our seats for. We’re waiting to see what else Dean had to say, and what will happen when Cas’s deal with the Empty comes to light.

Finally, could we still have this plot without Dean and Cas having gotten together off screen? Sure, but I think the stakes are higher if they already did have something between them. If they actually have an established romantic relationship going on. Something real and tangible and as of yet much too fragile.

"...you asked what about all this is real. We are."

#destiel #deancas #supernatural #spn #spn meta #this thing is gargantuan yikes #anyway enjoy? let's chat #my writing #this thing is half meta half my adhd unleashed