#bro this took exactly a month to read but in my defense it's long and i also powered through Pillars of Eternity lmfao | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tuanyiems · 3 years

Text

To Tango

Yugyeom x Fem Reader Genre: fluff, a little angst, smut Words: 12k [Masterlist in blog description] Plot: Sequel to Take Two (Arranged Marriage AU) Part of the Marriage Life AU series. You and Yugyeom have decided to take things slow now that you are starting over on the right foot. This proves to be more difficult when your insecurities about your virginity grow larger and Yugyeom’s dance partners get prettier and sexier with each routine. Warning: gyeom and reader need to work on their communication lulz, loss of virginity, fingering, oral (f receiving), penetrative sex, unprotected sex, riding, creampie, a brief moment of unintentional cockwarming lol

“Oh, and the sex, Y/N!” Anna let out a dreamy sigh, plopping her head against the couch cushion dramatically, her third glass of wine swirling dangerously in her hand. “I thought we were great in bed before, but engagement sex! Y/N, it’s absolutely mind-blowing!”

You giggle in response to your best friend, lips on the edge of your own wine glass as you nursed your first cup.

Anna reaches out her left hand, eyes crinkling at the sparkling ring on her finger. “I can’t wait to get married and have newlywed sex! Is it even better, Y/N?”

You cough in surprise, mouthful of wine spilling back into your glass.

“Oh dear, are you okay?” Anna reaches over, patting you on the back. She glances over cautiously. “You know, I heard most couples need time to learn each other’s bodies. Not all men can be like Jungkook. It gets better, don’t worry!”

“No!” You looked up in surprise, cheeks heating up. “It’s not that it’s bad. Yugyeom isn’t bad…or well, I don’t…he’s probably not.”

“Wait!” She shakes her head in disbelief, slamming down her wine glass on the coffee table. “I thought you and Yugyeom were getting along! It’s been a whole year, Y/N!”

“W-we are,” you stutter, looking away.

“But you’re still a virgin?” Anna asks slowly. You gulp down the rest of your glass, squeezing your eyes shut in embarrassment as you reluctantly nod.

“Aww, it’s okay…sex isn’t even that…good.”

You roll your eyes, giggling at the obvious lie. “Stop Anna, you looked like you were in actual pain just saying that.”

She grinned, flashing a row of plum teeth. “Sex is amazing, Y/N, I’m sorry.”

You shrug your shoulders, pouring more wine into your glasses. “I’m sure I’ll find out eventually. Yugyeom and I are just taking things slow.”

“Of course, there’s no rush!” Anna smiles reassuringly.

“Right, no rush.” You agree, nodding your head with conviction. Deep down though, you’re worried. After the two of you finally cleared the air of your misunderstandings last year, you both agreed to take things slow, get to know each other as friends first. Of course, this was more for Yugyeom. You had already been head over heels for him two years prior to him ever knowing your name. As time passed, your feelings for Yugyeom only grew stronger, but you weren’t sure you could say the same for him.

It took months for him to come to terms with you being his wife, you didn’t want to scare him away by asking for anything more. But a whole year has passed since then and the two of you hang out more like roommates than a married couple.

The first time you went on a real date, it got so awkward that Yugyeom literally called up Bambam to break the silence. The last time you tried to hold Yugyeom’s hand he flinched like you were going to chop his fingers off or something. Ever since then, you’ve given up, relishing instead on your casual nights in watching k-dramas and weekly grocery store runs. Those count as dates, right?

“Everyone has their own pace Y/N,” Anna adds, as if she could hear your worried thoughts. “There’s no order to when you’re supposed to get married or have sex. Don’t worry about it.”

You look at her with a pout. “Even if we’ve never kissed?”

“YOU’VE NEVER KISSED?!”

You laugh, half at her reaction and half in agony as you nod.

“What the hell is wrong with Yugyeom?” Anna yelled out indignantly.

You smile sheepishly, brushing your fingers through your hair in defeat. “Maybe he doesn’t want to kiss me. We hang out like bros. I think I’ve been friendzoned.”

“Nonsense! There’s something wrong with that boy if he doesn’t want to kiss you. Even I want to kiss you sometimes! That’s how hot you are!”

You laugh, collapsing into the couch cushions at your friend’s bug-eyed expression. “Anyways, it’s not that big of a problem. In his defense, he’s only just gotten to know me. I’m not as outgoing as you Anna, my charms are a little harder to see.”

“No way, Yugyeom’s just blind. That, or he’s a coward! You need to grab that boy by the collar and show him exactly what he’s missing out on. Just grab him and plant a wet one on him!”

You chuckle, shaking your head. “I think that’s called assault, Anna. We’ll get there in due time. No rush.”

“No rush about what?” Yugyeom interrupts, entering through the front door. He had just come back from the dance studio. You avert your eyes. Even after a long day of dancing in track pants and a plain white tee, hair stuffed into a black cap, Yugyeom still looks irresistible.

“Are you two drinking again?” He asks after no answer, approaching the two of you on the couch.

You smile sheepishly, twirling the red wine in your glass.

“Yes we are! Have to get rid of our frustrations somehow!” Anna barks back, pouring more wine into both of your glasses.

“This is my second glass,” You tell him quietly when he glances from Anna back to you, questioningly.

Yugyeom raises his brow skeptically, leaning over the couch to get a closer look. You gulp, eyes trailing the tip of his nose and the curve of his cupid’s bow. He’s so close; you could smell the lingering scent of the outside air mixed with his faded cologne.

“Your second glass?” he asks, eyes trained on yours like he could read your thoughts if he stares hard enough. You pray that isn’t true.

You nod quietly.

“Then why are your cheeks so pink? I think you’re already drunk!” He declares, standing up straight. Anna laughs, looking at you with a knowing smile.

“Did you eat dinner yet?” You change the subject quickly.

He smiles down at you before stepping away. “Yeah, I’m gonna go shower and then head to bed. Don’t keep her up too late, Anna!”

“That’s your job, Mr. Hubby,” Anna mumbles under her breath, snickering when your eyes widen, and you turn back to check if he heard. Yugyeom is already down the hallway though.

You pout, sinking into your seat. “Don’t say it!”

“You’ve got the hots for your husband!” Anna sings with excitement, nudging you teasingly.

You can only groan into the couch cushions because you know she’s absolutely right.

Of course, by now everyone knows you’ve had the hots for your husband ever since you laid eyes on him as a freshman in college. You were like the Cinderella of arranged marriages on campus. You agreed with it yourself. It wasn’t every day that parents matched their daughters up with their longtime crushes.

But that was a sweet and innocent time in your life, when you’d have daydreams of cooking dinner with him and he’d help tie your apron from behind. Maybe even tuck a stray hair behind your ear. Now your daydreams are far more…mature.

So, when you send Anna on her way and turn around to see Yugyeom stepping out of the shower, striped pajama pants on, and only striped pajama pants on, you are a bit breathless, to say the least.

“Jungkook picked Anna up?” he asks nonchalantly, water droplets dripping off his wet hair and falling down his chest.

You beg your buzzed brain not to follow the wet trail. Your mouth waters anyways.

“Mhm,” you manage out after a pause.

He chuckles, his hands coming to cup your cheeks. “Are you sure you only had two glasses? You seem out of it.”

“I’m fine,” you laugh nervously, shuffling out of his grasp. “Anyways, aren’t you tired? You should head to bed.”

“I am,” he smiles. “You too? Do you have a long day tomorrow?”

“I’m gonna be in the kitchen all day. I have to practice a couple recipes.”

“I’ll help!” he grins, shoulders squeezing together happily.

You scrunch your nose, landing a soft punch on his bicep. “I sense ulterior motives. I’ll take it though!”

He laughs, patting your head good naturedly. “Then it’s settled. Just wake me up when you start.”

You smile, watching as Yugyeom turns towards his bedroom, fresh muscle relief patches stamped across his back. He had been in the studio nonstop all week. Ever since changing his major, he’s been overworking himself to make up lost time. And now he’s spending his day off to help you.

You are grateful that he no longer gives you the cold shoulders. In fact, you have a gut feeling he’s been trying to make up for his past behavior by doing favors for you. You keep telling him that everything’s been forgiven, but the boy doesn’t listen.

He’s truly been nothing but sweet.

So, it should be okay that you two sleep in different beds at night. Lots of arranged couples do. You should just be happy you got to marry such a kind man. It’s okay that he doesn’t love you, you’re lucky nonetheless. Eventually, you two will become best friends.

Best friends last longer than lovers, you’ve been told.

But when you tuck yourself into bed that night, you can’t help but feel a little bit colder than usual.

“So, how can I help?” Yugyeom asks, hands on his hips as he sports your far too small, far too pink apron.

You giggle at the sight, sliding the cutting board towards him. “Can you dice the veggies, please?”

“Yes Chef!” he salutes you playfully.

You chuckle, bringing out the other ingredients for your recipe. The sleepyhead woke up at noon and insisted on helping you before even brushing his teeth. Of course, you ushered him into the bathroom soon enough, but it was harder to kick him out of the kitchen.

You glance at the back of his hair, strands curling up in opposite directions like wild flowers. You’d think the image of Yugyeom looking the very opposite of his appearance in the dance studio would damage your infatuation with him, but instead you found his clumsiness endearing.

There are a lot of cool bad boys out there. You’re glad Yugyeom is one of the good ones. Sometimes you fear he’s too good. Like maybe he’s being nice because he feels guilty still or maybe even sorry. You bite your lip. You would hate it if he were only acting this nice because he felt sorry for you.

“Oh my god, Y/N!” Yugyeom yells, breaking you out of your thoughts. “You’re gonna cut yourself like that!”

You look down at your chopping board, fingers dangerously close to the knife. “Oh.”

“And you tried to kick me out of the kitchen. I should be the one nagging you!” he chides, taking the knife away from you. “I’ll finish up the chopping, you can start cooking.”

You nod, feeling your cheeks heat.

“How are your classes going?” he asks, popping a slice of carrot into his mouth.

“Pretty good. I just can’t wait to graduate.”

Yugyeom lets out a soft chuckle. “Same.”

“Extra year was worth it though, wasn’t it?” You grin, filling a measuring cup with water.

He answers with a wink. It makes your stomach flip.

“I never said thanks,” he starts, going back to chopping vegetables. You look at him curiously, waiting for him to continue. “For convincing me to change my major. And supporting me this whole time. I don’t think I would be here without you.”

You shake your head, busying your hands as your cheeks flush once more. “It was all you. I wouldn’t invest in something I didn’t believe in. You had it in you the whole time.”

“Ah, stop it,” he bumps shoulders with yours gently.

You couldn’t help the growing smile on your face as memories from last year floods you.

Yugyeom looked like a nervous puppy in front of his father. You were sure if he had a tail it would be tucked between his legs right now.

You never thought of the Kim family as intimidating. Although the first time you met your in-laws they were angry whispering to each other with Yugyeom over the arranged marriage, they have always been nothing but kind to you. And when you and Yugyeom started getting along, they became even more jovial, showering you with household gifts and random text messages of affection.

However, Yugyeom’s respect for his parents was immeasurable and in front of his father, he became a little boy.

So here he was, face as pale as snow, about to break the news to his father.

You reached out to him, taking hold of his hand quietly. He flinched at the touch before offering you a nervous smile back. You squeezed his clammy hands in yours.

It was the first time you truly felt like Yugyeom’s wife. The two of you were in this together and you were going to support your husband’s happiness even if it meant going against his parents.

As it turned out, Yugyeom’s parents were more than understanding. Disappointed, yes, but after you gave your reassurance that you supported his decision, they were all on board with him pursuing dance.

You chuckled to yourself, remembering how Yugyeom’s frightened face had melted back into his usual boyish excitement. There was something very pure in the way he expressed himself. It was part of the charm that drew you in, in the first place.

You glance his way, catching him bouncing his shoulders up and down to a beat only he could hear. Sometimes you wonder what goes on in that brain of his.

Yugyeom’s knife stops midair. He turns to you abruptly with arched brows. You blink back nervously. But instead of saying anything, he breaks into a big smile before returning to the vegetables, his body grooving back and forth in a little jig. You chuckle softly, shaking your head. Whatever’s in that brain of his, you don’t have to worry about it.

“Wow, this is delicious!” Yugyeom exclaims, taking another big bite of your dish. You smile, placing your hands on your hips with satisfaction. “You deserve an A++!”

“You say that about all my food,”

“I mean it this time! It’s so good.”

“Oh, so you didn’t mean it the other times?” You give a playful pout, pushing the plate closer to your side. “I’m eating this alone!”

“Aww, hey! You know what I meant,” he whines, scooting closer to get another bite.

You laugh, taking the dish into your arms as you swat his hands away. He only pushes closer, wrapping his arms around you.

“Just one more bite!” he whines, squeezing you against his chest.

“All mine!” You grin, grabbing another spoonful. You swirl the spoon around teasingly before aiming for your own mouth, but before you could bite down, Yugyeom squeezes you closer, sticking his head cheek-to-cheek against yours and successfully steals the bite.

You gasp, face flushing at his close proximity and then watch as the plate slips from your nervous hand. Almost as if in slow motion, you see the contents of your dish spill onto Yugyeom’s grey sweatpants. Your eyes double in size the liquid sinks into the fabric of his pants and the rest falls to the floor in thunderous claps.

You blink, frozen, until you take in a sudden breath and collapse to your knees.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” You immediately apologize, wiping at his pants hastily.

“Oh, hey hey hey!” Yugyeom grabs at your hands, flustered. “I-I can wipe myself. Don’t worry about it.”

You look at the red flush across Yugyeom’s face, reaching towards his ears and all the way down his neck. Your palms go clammy in his as you realize your precarious position. You glance at the wet spot near his crotch and then back at his wavering pupils.

“I’m so sorry!” You apologize again, for different reasons this time, as you fumble back to your feet.

He only shakes his head vigorously, unable to meet your eyes as he lets go of your hands.

“It’s my fault,” he says, rushing to the kitchen counters to grab a kitchen towel. “I was playing around too much.”

“Yeah, you were,” you agree, taking the towel from him with a sympathetic smile. He looks at you with a pout. “I’ll clean up the mess, you should go change.”

He lets out a sigh before consenting, heading towards his room with his head low. In the privacy of his bedroom, Yugyeom lets out a deep exhale, his heart thrumming in his chest. He hopes you hadn’t noticed.

He looks down, pulling his sweatpants off. Please go down, but instead thoughts of you return to his mind. If he is being honest, it isn’t the first time he’s imagined you in that kind of position, but to have it actually happen—you, on your knees, right below him—and the way you looked up at him with your big, shiny eyes. All you had to do was lick your lips and he would’ve came in his pants.

“Fuck,” he whispers, looking back down. “Go down, go down, go down.”

You sit in Jungkook’s apartment, watching beside Anna as the two boys bicker about the latest trendy dance on TikTok. You laugh, watching as your husband grows red in the face from laughing so hard. He didn’t even drink tonight.

“What are you grinning about, huh?” Anna teases, refilling your glass with more sangria.

You point at Jungkook just as he begins rapping nonsense to the cellphone that is leaning dangerously against a half empty water bottle, off the edge of their coffee table.

“That’s the guy you’re about to marry,” you deadpan. “And that’s the man I’m married to.”

You look solemnly at Yugyeom who is now flailing tissues around as he hypes Jungkook up in the background.

Anna chuckles, clinking her glass against yours. “A bunch a fools, we are.”

You gulp down the fresh glass before breaking out into a grimace. Anna definitely put more brandy into the second pitcher of sangria. You look back at your friend with a frown.

She only laughs in response. “What? It’s not like you’re driving yourself home, that’s what the husband is for!”

“True!” You laugh, drinking more.

Yugyeom scowls, giving Anna a reprimanding click with his tongue. “You’re such a bad influence, Anna!”

She feigns offense, turning to him with her mouth wide open. “Excuse me? Who’s the one that brought you guys together, hmm?”

“Our parents,” Yugyeom retorts, a pleased grin on his face. You chuckle, earning yourself a glare from your friend.

“But I was the one that brought Y/N to the dance studio and stopped you two from divorcing each other,” Anna pouts, squeezing your arm for backup. You only giggled more, sipping on your glass of sangria.

“Speaking of the dance studio,” Jungkook starts, breaking the little spat between Anna and Yugyeom. “You’re working on that new routine with Lisa, right?”

You let out a sigh that only Anna notices. She gives your arm another squeeze, well aware of your concerns.

For the past couple of weeks, you had been complaining to Anna about Lisa. In all honesty, there was nothing real to complain about. Lisa was one of the sweetest girls you have ever met, and her dancing was some of the best you had ever seen. But that was exactly what was wrong. Lisa wasn’t just perfect, she also went perfectly with Yugyeom. The two shared an unrivaled chemistry on the dance floor and that did nothing to curb your own insecurities over your relationship.

It doesn’t help that Yugyeom is spending hours of his day to perfect his new dance routine with her.

But how could you even tell Yugyeom this? You were the one that pushed him to pursue dancing!

You stretch out your legs on the couch, wiggling your toes with a frown on your face. You really shot yourself in the foot this time around.

“Bro, don’t remind me,” Yugyeom sighs, much to your own surprise. You perk up, turning your attention to him and ignoring the snort from Anna. “I’m going to kill Bambam.”

“Why, what happened?” Jungkook asks.

“Yeah, what happened?” you insist, a little too eagerly.

Yugyeom turns to you with a frown. “Bambam took Lisa ice skating and she sprained her ankle.”

“Oh no,” you mutter, pressing the wine glass back to your lips to hide the smile spreading across your face.

You feel Anna’s elbow dig into your side.

“Aww, go Bambam though,” Anna cheers. “Hasn’t he been in love with her for forever?”

Yugyeom rolls his eyes, walking over to plop next to you on the couch. His arm naturally reaches overhead, leaning on the cushion just above your head. You swallow, overly aware of his body next to yours.

“It wasn’t even a date, Anna,” he sighs, shaking his head in disbelief. He looks at you then before adding, “That’s why I’ve been at the studio longer than usual. Learning the routine with a new partner is so stressful.”

“Who’s your new partner?” Jungkook asks, squeezing himself next to Anna.

“She’s an underclassman. I don’t know if you know her. Does Chungha ring a bell?”

You watch Jungkook’s expression remain unimpressed as he shrugs. “Nope.”

Pleased with his response, you relax your shoulders and unintentionally lean into Yugyeom. If it weren’t for the alcohol and your slow reflexes, you would’ve sat back up, but Yugyeom presses back into you before you can move. When you feel his hand slide around you, you tip the rest of your glass into your mouth.

“You guys wanna come watch us practice?” Yugyeom offers, seemingly unaware of your wildly beating heart.

Jungkook and Anna agrees quickly, leaving you with no choice but to watch another woman dance with your husband. The only thing that was making you feel better though is the fact that she isn’t Lisa and of course, the additional helping of sangria from your best friend.

When it is finally time for you and Yugyeom to head home, you are completely drunk. You have no idea how he was able to get you to and from the car but when you are finally sober enough to open your eyes without feeling like the world is spinning, you find yourself sprawled on your living room couch.

“One day I’m gonna get Jungkook shitfaced and toss him to Anna. See how much she likes it,” he grumbles under his breath as he approaches you. “Oh, you’re awake.”

You giggle, still drunk enough to ignore your usual nerves. “They’d probably just have drunk sex, Yugy.”

Yugyeom blushes, sitting next to you on the couch. “Let’s wipe your makeup off Y/N,” he replies, ignoring your comment.

You turn to him with your eyes closed, laughing when the cool towelette touches your skin. He chuckles against you.

“Stop laughing.”

“It tickles!”

“Just a little bit more,”

You sigh in relief, opening your eyes again to see Yugyeom tossing the dirty wipes into the trashcan.

“Come on, let’s go brush our teeth,” he beckons.

Your lips jut out instinctively as you cross your arms defiantly. “Do it for me!”

Yugyeom lets out a sigh but a smile quickly breaks onto his face anyways. He always complained to Anna about getting you drunk, but the truth is that he could never get truly mad. How could he when your drunken self becomes a cute little monster?

You are annoyingly adorable.

Even during the early months of your marriage when Yugyeom was adamant on hating you, he could never get over how cute you became when you were drunk. While he found your normal self already quite endearing, it was a different pleasure to see your guard slip down.

Grabbing your toothbrush and spreading a pinch of toothpaste over the bristles, he smiles as he walks back over to you. Your eyes open again, feeling him approach. You flash him a bright smile, showing off your wine-stained teeth.

Chuckling in defeat, he pushes your toothbrush against your smile and begins brushing. You watch him with lazy eyes, smile still adorn on your lips. It makes his skin flush under your gaze. Maybe you are still very drunk, but time feels like it stops.

It’s not often that Yugyeom gets to see you with your guard down. You are always a little shy and always put together. Whether it is helping him talk to his own parents or waking up early to make him lunch, you are always the one helping him and rarely is it ever the other way around.

It’s why times like these, Yugyeom takes his time memorizing your features.

On normal days, Yugyeom already thinks you are perfect.

On nights like tonight, he thinks you are perfectly imperfect.

And that makes you all the more beautiful.

All too soon, it is time to put you to bed. He is surprised you’re even still awake. It’s way past midnight, which is way past your usual 10PM bedtime.

“It’s time to sleep now, Y/N. Can you walk or should I carry you?”

You glance at him, fiddling with your thumbs. “Can I sleep with you tonight?”

Yugyeom chokes on his own spit. “Y-you don’t want to sleep in your own bed?”

You shake your head with a pout. “I wanna stay with you.”

He lets out a breath before taking a seat next to you on the couch. It shouldn’t be a surprise that your drunk self is being clingy, but Yugyeom can’t help his thoughts from wandering to the other day when you spilled food all over his pants.

You pat his thigh, leaning closer. He gulps, feeling nervous suddenly.

“Yugy, what’s your ideal type?”

The question catches him off guard. It’s not until you squeeze his thigh again that he remembers to answer.

“I-um...”

He glances down at your wide eyes. The anticipation in your gaze is evident.

“I like someone who makes me want to know more about her,” he finally answers.

His answer is almost sobering enough. You feel your heart dropping.

“What type of wife do you want then?”

Yugyeom wants to laugh at your sudden interrogation but you look so serious. He looks away, pretending to think deeply about your question. The truth is though, he can barely think with you so close to him. The only thing he can think to respond with is you. Of course it’s you. It could only be you.

Before Yugyeom could even accept the idea of marriage, he had already fallen for his wife. Against his will and against his pride, you had snuck into his heart.

When he looks back at you, you feel a flutter in your chest. You wonder if your buzz has gotten to your head. Hope rises in your heart the longer he stares.

“I want a wife who doesn’t like wine so much,” he lets out a small laugh when you immediately frown. If only he could kiss the pout on your lips.

Yugyeom sits up, thinking you’ve finished but you’re quick to keep him seated. With the last bits of alcohol giving you courage, you throw your leg across his lap and straddle him, palms flat against his chest.

“I want a real answer, Yugy,” you pout, too involved in your own questions to see the way Yugyeom’s entire face has gone red. “What’s something I can do that you find really charming?”

He looks at you like a deer caught in headlights. The longer it takes for him to answer, the more you begin to question whether you’ve crossed a line. But Yugyeom is just trying to form a coherent sentence in his mind, anything to keep you from pressing further into him and realizing that you’ve given him a semi.

When he doesn’t answer, you bite at your lip, crestfallen.

You know you should have seen this coming, but it still hurts. He couldn’t even think of a lie to tell?

The next question leaves you in a whisper, “Why aren’t you attracted to me?”

Yugyeom’s eyes grow big with alarm. The sadness on your face is so apparent and it makes his stomach ache with guilt. Why would you ever think this? He is literally hard right now because of you!

“I am!” He shouts back immediately.

You look back at him, but your eyes say you don’t believe him.

“I am, I really am! Why would you even ask?”

“Then,” you sink into him, shoulders slouching. “Why won’t you kiss me?”

Yugyeom looks at you, then your lips, and feels the heat rise to his cheeks. He wants to kiss you right now. He has never wanted to kiss you more than now, but you’re drunk. What if this is just the alcohol talking?

Before he can say anything though, your arms are wrapping around his neck and pushing him against you. Your lips are soft on his and you taste minty from the toothpaste.

You feel a shiver in your spine when he starts to kiss back. Soft at first, and then his arms are squeezing around your waist and you’re running your fingers through his hair, pulling him closer until it feels impossible to breathe.

It doesn’t matter. You decide kissing Yugyeom takes priority over breathing.

You moan against him when he slides his tongue into your mouth. When you rut against him, you can feel his hardness through his jeans. It sends a thrill through your body. You rub yourself harder against him, savoring the way he muffles a groan against your lips.

But when you slip your hands underneath his shirt, feeling his hot skin, Yugyeom pushes you away.

“Wait,” he mutters, catching his breath. “Y/N, we can’t.”

“What are talking about? Who’s going to stop us?” You chuckle, trying to sneak your hands back onto him, but Yugyeom is quick to grab your wrist.

He inwardly curses himself, cringing at the tightness in his pants, but he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if he took advantage of you while you were drunk. He is not going to share your first time together when you aren’t fully sober. It is wrong no matter how much you insist on it.

With a sigh, he lifts you off of him and stands up.

“We can’t, Y/N. Come on, let’s go to sleep.”

You feel a wave of heat rise to your face as your eyes fill with tears. You stare at Yugyeom’s feet, too embarrassed to look him in the eyes.

“Come on,” he beckons, reaching for your hand.

Pulling away, you get up on your own. Without a word, you walk into your bedroom and slam the door shut.

And as you lay in bed, hot tears spill out endlessly.

You stand at the entrance of the dance studio, a sick feeling in your stomach. Yugyeom left early this morning so you were never able to talk about what happened last night.

“Are you going to open the door or what?” Anna looks at you sternly. “What happened between you two? Why are you acting so weird?”

“Yeah, did you lose your virginity or something?” Jungkook jokes.

“Anna!” You yell out, appalled.

She looks back at you with wide eyes, putting her hands in the air. “It wasn’t me, I swear!”

“Yeah, Yugyeom told me months ago,” Jungkook chuckles, a pleased smile on his face.

“Okay, I’m going home.”

Before you could march away and find a cliff to jump off of, Anna and Jungkook are pulling you by the arms and into the studio.

“Hey, you guys made it!” Yugyeom greets you cheerfully. He glances over to you and a pink hue dusts his cheeks. He rubs at the back of his neck awkwardly, unsure of what to do until a girl approaches him. You blink, breath caught in your throat when you see how beautiful she is. “Oh um, this is my new dance partner, Chungha!”

You bite at your lip, noticing far too quickly how Yugyeom’s mood changes at the sight of her. But could you blame him? In just a basic pair of black leggings and sports bra, you could see how toned her body was. Her big, bright eyes blink back at you, and you could see the fluttering of her long lashes. She looks flawless.

And then she smiles.

To think, you had been relieved Lisa was no longer his dance partner. No wonder he isn’t attracted to you. You wouldn’t be either if you were surrounded by women like Lisa and Chungha all day.

“It’s nice to meet you all!” she greets cheerfully. “I can’t wait to get your feedback.”

“Same, Yugyeom said you’re a great dancer,” Jungkook adds.

She smilsd shyly, sharing a look with Yugyeom. “That means a lot. I don’t know if I can meet those expectations though.”

“Nonsense,” Yugyeom rolls his eyes, pushing her shoulder playfully. “Stop pretending to be humble.”

As the two laugh in their own world, you finger at the end of your t-shirt uncomfortably. They have only been practicing the dance together not too long ago but they already look so close.

“Oh!” Yugyeom looks back at you, almost like an afterthought. “This is my wife by the way!”

“Oh!” Chungha exclaims, eyes wide as if she were seeing you for the first time. “It’s so great to finally meet you! When Yugyeom said he was married I was so surprised, but you are so cute!”

You force out a smile, accepting the compliment—though, you wonder if it really was. It sure didn’t feel like one.

“Well, we won’t hold you up anymore!” Anna interrupts, rubbing your arm comfortingly. “We’ll go make ourselves comfy while you two get ready.”

“Hey, it’s our sister-in-laws!” Bambam and Taehyung welcome you from their seat by the mirrors.

“Soon,” Anna grins coyly, sharing a look with Jungkook.

Ignoring the two lovebirds, Taehyung grabs your arm, ushering you to take a seat between him and Bambam.

“I haven’t seen you in forever,” he pouts before flashing his iconic square smile. You answer with a weak one of your own.

“How long have you two been here?”

“Since the morning. We had to practice our routines too,” Taehyung answers.

“Yeah, and those two have been at it since we got here. I think knowing there’d be a live audience today made her nervous,” Bambam adds, referring to Chungha.

“It’s just us though,”

“Still,” Taehyung shrugs his shoulders. “This is her first performance since starting uni.”

You glance at the two who are currently crouched over a tablet and reviewing a video of their practice. She is giggling over something Yugyeom had said and is slapping his shoulder playfully.

You frown. “Doesn’t look nervous to me.”

Taehyung smirks, bending his head to meet your eyes. “Is someone jealous?”

You frown even more, lip jutting out in a pout.

“Aw, poor baby, it’s okay Y/N,” Taehyung chuckle, patting your head. “She’s harmless.”

“Tae!”

You both look over to see Yugyeom staring from across the room. His eyes meet yours briefly before he averts his eyes to Taehyung.

“Can you come over for a second? We need a second opinion,” he says.

“We do?” Chungha asks softly.

You sigh, hugging your knees.

Bambam chuckles beside you. “It’s hard work liking someone, isn’t it?”

You turn your head, giving him an empathetic smile. “You of all people should know.”

You watch Bambam’s shoulders slump, slightly regretting your comment when you see the look on his face. But Bambam is quick to recover.

“Yugyeom cares for you more than you think.”

You have a hard time believing that, memories of last night’s embarrassment resurfacing again. Instead, you cross your arms and turn your whole body away from the three across from you towards Bambam.

“She called me cute,” you pout.

“Isn’t that a good thing?”

You sigh. “Not when it’s coming from someone who’s drop dead gorgeous. Cute sounds like an insult.”

Bambam shakes his head in disbelief but doesn’t try to change your mind.

“Sounds like insecurity to me.”

You feel a flush across your cheeks. “Yeah well! Maybe I wouldn’t be if…”

“If?”

You bite at your lip. If Yugyeom had continued kissing you last night? If you went all the way with him? If you hadn’t spent an entire year essentially being friendzoned by your own husband?

You sigh. “I don’t know.”

Bambam gives you a pat on the back. “I’m sure whatever it is, it’s just another misunderstanding. Just talk it out.”

You nod, not wanting to talk about your relationship problems anymore.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” Taehyung announces, jumping to the center of the room like a TV host. “May I introduce to you, for the first time ever! Yugyeom and Chungha!”

You clap along weakly as everyone cheers. But the sick feeling in your gut only grows once the performance starts.

The dance is a passionate one. Their bodies are constantly tangled together, Yugyeom chasing after Chungha. You dig your nails into the flesh of your palm as Yugyeom presses himself into Chungha’s back side.

But more than the touching, what hurts the most is the way he looks at her. He looks like he wants her. You knew what you were signing yourself up for when you pushed Yugyeom to pursue dancing, but when did he become such a good actor too?

He’s never looked at you like that before.

It takes a room full of clapping to get you out of your thoughts. You wish you hadn’t though. Chungha is beaming up at Yugyeom and he is looking back like she is the only girl in the room.

“How were you able to watch Lisa do this dance with Yugyeom?” you mutter to Bambam, looking away from the two on the dance floor.

“Trust,” he answers easily. “Besides, Yugyeom’s too dorky for Lisa. She would never fall for him.”

“Hey,” you scold lightly.

“You can either be mad at him or defend him, Y/N. You can’t choose both!”

You roll your eyes, heat rising to your cheeks. “I’m not mad at him, he didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Then why does Yugyeom keep looking at you like he’s sorry?”

You only sigh, too afraid to say out loud the answer you hold in your heart.

That maybe, he is only sorry because he can’t love you back.

You sit on the couch of your living room, absentmindedly spooning your ice cream that is now soup. A couple days have passed and you and Yugyeom are back on good terms. At least on the surface. Silently, the both of you seem to have agreed to pretend what happened the other night on this couch had never happened.

You decided to stop thinking about the way Yugyeom looked at Chungha or how she was so much better than you. Again, you do what you are good at, using your blind optimism to mask the hurt you are feeling inside.

“I’m back!” Yugyeom calls out as he steps through the entrance. He spots the back of your head from the living room and glances at the TV only to find that you are staring at a black screen.

“Hey,” he calls out again more softly, approaching you on the couch.

“Oh, Yugyeom!” You startle, before offering him a smile. “Back from practice?”

“Mhm,” he returns a hesitant smile.

“Aren’t you early? What time is it?” You glance over to the clock on the wall only to find that it is already 9PM. “Oh wow, look at the time! Did you have dinner yet?”

Yugyeom shakes his head, observing how your eyes never quite focus, glancing at his torso briefly before darting back to your bowl of melted ice cream and then the clock on the wall.

“I left some dinner for you in the kitchen, you just have to heat it up.” You place your bowl on the coffee table. “Want me to get it for you?”

He places a hand on your thigh, stopping you from leaving your seat. “I got it.”

He rises to his feet before pausing. Yugyeom looks at you, his eyebrows arching with concern. He stares for a moment. Ever since you guys came back from the dance studio together, you had been quiet. Everything you did and said felt a little too robotic. A little cold even, like you were keeping him at a distance. And then he thought about your lips. The way they felt against his that night—cool from the aftertaste of toothpaste, but hot against his tongue.

“Yugyeom?”

He swallows. “N-Nothing.”

You look at him for a moment longer before forcing out a smile. “Let me just heat up your dinner and then I’ll head to bed!”

Yugyeom watches as you hastily leave him for the kitchen. It is obvious that you are still bothered and this time around, Yugyeom is sure he knows why. But he doesn’t even know how to start talking about it. He can’t even think about the other night without feeling like a flustered mess.

And by the way you are smiling at him, it feels like you don’t want to talk about it either.

Were you embarrassed about it? Was he right and it was just the alcohol talking? Maybe you were regretting it now.

“It’ll only take another minute and you can take it off the stove,” you smile up at him, giving his arm a pat before you walk away.

“T-Thanks,” he mutters. “Good night.”

You smile weakly before closing the door.

Yugyeom sighs, staring at his dinner on the stove. Even when you aren’t feeling your best, you still take care of him. He wonders how he can make you happy.

His thoughts wander to Taehyung. What if it was him you had walked in on at the dance studio during your freshman year? Would you have fallen for Taehyung instead?

He had seen the way Tae looked at you the night of the party. It was the first night since the wedding that you had gotten all dolled up. He saw you as soon as you stepped through the door. He was sure everyone had their eyes on you.

Even with his own stubbornness back then, he couldn’t stand watching everyone eyeing you at the party. Although he had been determined to avoid you that night, it was the look Tae gave you that drew the line for him.

Since then, you and Tae have become close friends. It annoyed the hell out of him especially when Tae was blatantly flirting with you just to get on his nerves, but he couldn’t even complain. It was karma. He deserves it for the months of hell he put you through.

You may have liked him first, but Yugyeom wonders if you’d still like him for long. With the way things are going, it seems like you are going to realize how subpar of a husband he is and leave him for someone better.

The very thought makes Yugyeom want to hurl.

He shuts off the stove with a sigh. Why is he so bad at communicating with you?

Despite being tired from practice, that night, Yugyeom couldn’t sleep. His thoughts keep going back to you and the sad smile on your face tonight. He did that.

And now here he was, hiding in his bed like a coward. Sitting up, Yugyeom turns on his lights with a sigh. This was not okay. He was not going to repeat the same mistake again. He had to talk to you.

With a renewed purpose, Yugyeom marches over to your room, but when he stops at your door, he freezes. What is he doing? You’re probably asleep by now. He glances at the clock down the hall. It’s almost midnight.

Maybe he should wait until the morning instead.

Just as he’s about to turn on his heels though, your door opens. You both jump in surprise.

“You’re awake!”

“Yugyeom?” You rub at the sleep in your eyes. “What are you doing out here?”

He shuffles awkwardly. “Oh, I uh…”

You stiffen, anxiety creeping up your spine as you watch him fidget in front of your doorway. For you, there can only be one reason for Yugyeom to be coming to you in the middle of the night.

He must have come to his senses.

Yugyeom takes in a sharp breath, steeling himself. “Can we talk?”

Your stomach sinks. You want to tell him no.

Instead, you quietly step aside and let him through. He sits on the edge of your bed nervously. You stare at him from the doorway still.

“I-” his voice trails off before it can fully start. He bites at his lip, pulling at the chapped skin until it is wet and raw. “I…”

When no other words come, you let out a tired sigh. “Gyeom,”

He looks up at you and you can see the worry digging creases into his forehead. You wish you could push him out of your room. You aren’t ready for this conversation to happen. But Yugyeom looks at you so helplessly, you don’t have the strength to deny him.

So, with a pang in your heart, you speak. “You never answered my question the other night. Not seriously anyways.”

He looks at you curiously and you approach him. “Will you answer me now?”

“I-sure.”

You take a seat next to him, tucking your hands beneath your thighs. “What kind of girl do you actually like?”

Yugyeom turns his head your way, looking lost. “But I did answer you. Someone who makes me want to get to know her.”

You squeeze your shoulders together, staring down at the floor. “So, someone with stories…someone with experience?”

Yugyeom swallows, feeling himself fall deeper into a hole. “N-no! Not necessarily…”

“What about your exes? What were they like?” you glance at him, wanting to watch his face but scared of the honesty you’ll see.

Yugyeom’s face flushes red. “W-what? Where is this coming from, Y/N?”

Your face falls before you drop your head once more. “Nothing, it’s stupid. I just thought…maybe if I changed? Do you think we could ever be more than friends?”

Yugyeom chuckles softly. It feels unnatural in the tense atmosphere though. You wonder if he’s laughing at you. You wonder if the very idea is that absurd to him.

“Y/N, you’re my wife.”

“On paper,” you mutter. You shift on the bed, wringing your hands together. “But you don’t even want to hang out with me much, let alone date.”

“That! That’s because I’m shy!” he blurts. He tugs on your hand to look his way, but you’re too ashamed to look him in the face.

You wonder if you’re being selfish by putting him on the spot like this.

“You don’t have to lie to me,” you resign, pulling your hand out of his grasp. “I know this arrangement was never your choice. And well, you can’t control who you’re attracted to.”

“I’m not lying though. I really like you, Y/N, I’m just…I’m just really shy.”

You frown at his insistence. “You aren’t shy around Chungha or Lisa.”

Yugyeom looks at you surprised. “Chungha and Lisa are just friends! I don’t think of them like that!”

“That’s impossible! Chungha and Lisa are both so pretty and charming and sexy! They’re the whole package!” You glare at him angrily.

“Yeah, maybe for Bambam!”

“I bet you’ve talked to Chungha more times than you’ve ever talked to me,” you grumble, crossing your arms.

“Yeah, well, I could say the same for Taehyung,” Yugyeom blurts, mirroring your posture.

You raise your brows in surprise. “Tae?”

“Don’t play dumb, he was obviously flirting with you at the party.”

“What party?” you turn to him confused. “Wait, are you talking about the party where I first met him a year ago?”

“Yeah, and I bet if you met him any earlier, you would’ve liked him instead!”

You frown, sitting cross legged on the bed so you could face him fully now. “I’ve liked you for two years before you even knew I existed. Don’t try to change the subject when you were flirting with Chungha right in front of me just a few days ago!”

“That was not flirting!”

“Not saying it’s a bad thing! You can flirt with whoever you want because you’re allowed to like whoever you want. Clearly, it’s not me!”

Yugyeom guffaws in exasperation, cupping his forehead with one hand. “Goddammit, but it is you. It’s been you this whole time.”

“I’m a big girl, Gyeom, you can give me the hard truth.”

He straightens, glaring back at you. “You want the truth?”

“Yeah, I do.”

Yugyeom scoots closer to you. “Remember when you and Anna had that bachelorette party?”

You pause, frown deepening. “It wasn’t really a bachelorette party, it was just the two of us drinking wine.”

“Nope, you insisted it was a bachelorette party,” he argues, chest puffing out. “I know this because when you got wasted over a bottle of wine, it was me you called to come get you. It was me who carried you back to your apartment and tucked you into bed, but not before you tried to strip down to your underwear while announcing your virginity to the entire complex.”

You gape at him, horrified. “I did what?”

“And I have liked you ever since,” a small smile stretches across his face. “I found out the perfect, goody two-shoes girl was masquerading as a terrible lap dancer by night and ever since then, I’ve wanted to get to know even more sides of you.”

You close your eyes, pressing a thumb to your temple. “Wait, back up, Gyeom, I gave you a lap dance?”

“Yeah, and a terrible one at that,” he laughs.

You falter, anger dissipating quickly. “I don’t remember this.”

“That was only the first time, you know,” he looks at you with a small, teasing smile.

You cringe. “How come you never told me?”

He shrugs. “It happened during the time I was trying really hard not to like you. Anyways, I didn’t think it was something you’d be proud to learn.”

“After seeing all of that,” your voice comes out small, like you want to make a joke, but your tone doesn’t quite match, “wouldn’t you rather someone like Chungha?”

Yugyeom sighs loudly. “What’s with you and Chungha?”

“You two have chemistry,” you admit, lips pouting.

“Because we’re friends,” he explains.

“Then what are we?” You look up at him nervously. He meets you with an equally anxious gaze.

Without answering you, he puts his hands out towards you, palms facing up. When you tilt your head curiously, he takes your hand in his.

“You make me nervous,” he mutters, and you can feel the clamminess of his hot palms against yours. Your brows raise in surprise and you watch as a flush of pink rises to his cheeks. “You think I’m flirting with Chungha, but actually I’ve been trying to flirt with you this whole time. I guess I’m just terrible at it.”

You swallow, not sure what to say to this confession. From the way he looks at you, you know he’s being sincere, which only makes you more confused.

“And I’m terrible at it because,” Yugyeom pauses, face tomato red as he tries to compose himself. He looks away and you grip his hand tighter. “I think you have this idea about me, like I’m cool or something. You’re always saying I inspired you to pursue your dreams, but I think it’s the other way around. And it’s…it’s just a lot of pressure.”

“I-I’m sorry…I didn’t mean to make you feel this way.”

“I know,” Yugyeom looks at you softly, “because you’re you, and you see the good in everything—even me. But if I’m being honest, that cool guy you had a crush on at the dance studio? I’m not sure I’m him. I’m clumsy and childish and always cause accidents when I’m around you. The closer we get, the more I worry you’ll figure this out and regret liking me.”

You thread your fingers through his and pull his hands to your chest, shaking your head adamantly. “That will never happen!”

He chuckles, but the laughter doesn’t meet his eyes. “You can’t promise that.”

“Yes, I can,” you tell him stubbornly. “I moment I said, ‘I do’ I promised just that.”

“Can you say that after my next confession?” he scoffs.

Your brows furrow, but you don’t let go of his hands.

“Do you really want to know who my first love was?” he asks quietly.

You nod, heartbeat thrumming in your ear.

“It was dance,” he sighs, looking down. “It’s always been dance.”

You look at him confused, trying to process this information. “You mean…”

“I’m a virgin, too,” he mumbles, the tips of his ears glowing hot red. When you don’t say anything, he looks up with a small frown. “Still think I’m that cool guy?”

You can’t help the smile that stretches across your face. Without thinking, you spring from the bed and pounce onto him. Yugyeom catches you by the waist easily, his eyes wide with shock at your sudden actions, but he holds you tight in his arms anyways. You shake in his arms, giggles erupting from you and tickling the crook of his neck.

“Why would that ever make you uncool?” you laugh, fingers combing through the back of his hair.

Yugyeom relaxes into your touch, resting his chin on your shoulder. “But, what if I’m not good at it?”

You pull away to look at him. He chews on his lips timidly.

“Well, it’s not like I have anything to compare you to,” you chuckle, rubbing gently at the nape of his neck. “We can take our time, learn together.”

Finally, Yugyeom smiles, relief rushing through him. “It’s not that I don’t want to, just so you know. I just want to make sure you have a good first experience too. What if I hurt you?”

“It hurt more thinking you didn’t like me.”

He sighs softly, pressing his forehead to yours. You can feel the ghost of his breath on your lips. “Trust me, I like you a lot more than you realize.”

“Oh, I’m starting to realize,” you roll your hips tentatively against him and his lashes flutter in surprise as you feel the outline of his semi hard on through his pajama pants. His grip on your waist tightens.

“W-what are you doing?”

You can feel him shiver against you and probably for the first time in this relationship, your chest inflates with confidence.

“Starting lesson one,” you whisper into his ear as you press your core harder against him. The feeling of his hardness blooms excitement throughout your skin. Never has anyone been this close to you in this way. The thought used to scare you, but right now, you’ve never been more thrilled.

“Are you sure?” the words barely make it out of his throat as you press a kiss to his neck. You can feel his breath hitch at the slight graze of your lips, and it urges you on. And despite Yugyeom’s cautious words, his arms pull you closer and he tilts his head, giving you better access.

“The surest I’ve ever been,” you reassure him before sucking on the skin of his jugular. His pulse beats against your lips and you’re happy to know you aren’t the only one whose heart is racing.

“You’re…How’re you so good at this?” Yugyeom mumbles, squeezing his eyes shut in agonized pleasure as you roll your hips against him once more.

“I’ve thought about this a lot,” comes your breathy confession. When he doesn’t say anything, you glance at him. “Is that strange?”

He breaks out into smile, shaking his head. “I’m glad it wasn’t just me.”

You smile, “Really?”

Yugyeom nods, lips chasing yours. “You don’t know how many boners I’ve had to hide from you.”

His hot breath fans at your lips before he is pulling your bottom lip between his teeth. You can’t help the moan that muffles against his mouth as his tongue explores your mouth. When he pulls away, you are gasping to catch your breath.

Contrary to the kiss, Yugyeom looks at you with the softest gaze and wipes at the wetness of your lips with a gentle thumb. He lingers at your bottom lip for a moment longer.

Yugyeom sucks in a breath, eyes dilating when you take his thumb into your mouth. You meet his stare with hooded lids as you suck his entire thumb into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the digit. When you release him with a pop, you can feel him twitch underneath you.

There is a hunger in your core that you’ve never felt before. Your entire body aches for Yugyeom in its most primal form. You want him. The thrumming in your chest only further confirms this.

You clutch at his plain tee, heat rising to your cheeks, “Can I taste you?”

Yugyeom groans, throwing his head back. You can’t help salivating at the sight of his Adam’s apple bobbing. When Yugyeom looks back at you he almost looks pained.

“I don’t think I’ll last, Y/N,” he mutters, ears reddening.

His confession makes your heart inflate and you press a kiss to his jawline.

“It’s okay, I won’t time you. I don’t know if I’ll be any good anyways,” you smile to lift the mood, but Yugyeom shakes his head.

“No, let me make you feel good first,” He presses a kiss over your smile. “I want to take care of you this time.”

You swallow, heart thrumming in your ear. “Well, what if I don’t last?”

He chuckles, kissing down your throat. You shudder, skin prickling at his breath.

“Oh, I’ll make sure you don’t,” he mumbles, sucking at the sensitive skin. You groan, threading your fingers through the back of his hair. “I’m no quitter, Y/N, and we’ve got all night.”

You shiver, stomach twisting with excitement. Not knowing what else to say, you can only nod when he sinks his thumbs into the waistband of your shorts.

But Yugyeom doesn’t move further. Instead, he looks at you again, eyes serious. “Are you sure you’re okay with this? We can stop if it gets too much.”

And although your cheeks heat up at just the graze of his fingers at your hips, you nod without hesitation. “I want you, Gyeom. I’m ready.”

He sucks in a quiet breath. “Lay down for me?”

His request is a whisper, barely audible, but you scramble to the pillows. Yugyeom follows right behind and when you sink your head into the pillows, he meets you, right above, lips finding yours once more. As his tongue explores your mouth, his thighs press between yours, spreading your legs apart. You can’t help being hyperaware of the dampness of your underwear as he does this.

But the thought quickly leaves your mind when he places a hesitant palm to your chest. To your embarrassment, your nipples are already hard with arousal when his fingers graze against them. He groans against your mouth, fingers rubbing rough circles around the peaked buds.

You find yourself already breathless at the sensation, the sensitive skin sending tingles straight to your core. You moan when he slips his hand underneath your shirt, the pleasure growing ten folds with his warm hands on your bare skin.

“God, you’re so soft,” Yugyeom groans, squeezing your breasts in his palms. “Can I take this off?”

You nod quickly, hands already coming to the ends of your shirt to help him slip it off. Yugyeom leans back on his heels, eyes eating you up while you laid topless in front of him, chest heaving from just his small touches.

“Gyeom,” you mutter, feeling self-conscious when he doesn’t move.

There’s a glint in his eyes as his fingers meet your waistband again. You suck in a breath, nodding silently for him to continue. He licks at his lips, pulling the flimsy fabric of your shorts off of you.

You cringe at the sight of your yellow cotton underwear, the pink heart patterns looking suddenly very childish with Yugyeom’s eyes on them now.

“I-I have better underwear-” you rush to cover yourself but Yugyeom moves your hand.

His palms squeeze your thighs, and he looks at you with a reassuring smile. “It’s cute. You’re cute, and beautiful and charming and sexy. The whole package.”

You blush, hearing your words said back to you.

“Plus,” he grins, hands sliding up your thighs and you shiver. “These ones are soaked, just for me.”

Your breath catches in your throat when he runs a finger up the wet cotton. He chuckles darkly at the sound of your whimper when he circles around your clit. It’s just a whisper of a touch and yet you find yourself careening.

Your heart feels like the wings of a hummingbird, flapping against your chest. Never have you laid yourself out, so bare, for someone. It’s scary, being so vulnerable, and yet you find yourself wanting to jump into the darkness of the unknown.

The way Yugyeom looks at you is dark and heavy, like he is trying to swallow you whole, hungry to take in every piece of you. And maybe with anyone else this would frighten you, but it’s Yugyeom, and so you are excited. Excited and eager to give all of yourself to him.

“Can I?” he asks, pulling at the edge of your underwear.

“Please,” you consent, lifting your hips.

Yugyeom groans helplessly at your bare sight, dripping wet just for his eyes to see. He lifts at his t-shirt, skin already hot. You swallow, eyes traveling down his bare torso, to the tattoo stretching across his rib cage and then the growing bulge his thin pajama pants does very little to hide. You clench around nothing, just imagining what’s beneath.

Yugyeom catches the movement and curses. You don’t even know what you do to him.

Your eyes shudder close when you feel his fingers back on you, spreading your slick in circles around your clit.

“Does that feel okay?”

You answer with a whimper, arching into his touch.

He bites at his bottom lip, watching you squirm beneath him. You are so sensitive and so eager. Nothing he could have ever imagined could measure up to this view. He could probably cum to this sight alone. The strain of his pants warns him of the very possibility.

“More,” you barely manage to croak out between a moan but Yugyeom hears you and without hesitation, he dives into your heat, eager for a taste.

Your eyes flutter open at the new feeling, hooded eyes staring down at his head between your thighs. You moan, embarrassment heating your cheeks, but your fingers thread through his hair and push him deeper.

The sting of his scalp only drives him on, lapping at you hungrily. When he moans into your folds, you find yourself vibrating with him. His tongue feels so soft and delicious against you and when he sucks on your clit you tremble at the sensation shooting straight to your core.

Sweat glazes your forehead and you strain to keep your eyes focused on Yugyeom. You can’t even see his face, but you can’t pull your gaze away. The top of his head bobs eagerly and from behind, you can see him thrusting into your sheets.

You whimper, feeling your abdomen tighten when he rolls his hips extra rough.

“Gyeom,” you squeeze around his hair strands.

He looks up at you, eyes glazed over with lust, tongue still swirling around you at an agonizing pace. Squeezing your thigh, he presses a finger to your entrance. He presses, barely entering but you find yourself clenching already.

“Gyeom,” you whine, head falling into the pillow in frustration.

You feel him chuckle against you. A soft kiss to your clit. And then he slips a finger into you slowly. You’re so wet, he slips right in easily. You close your eyes, savoring the unfamiliar feeling. Unfamiliar, but not unwanted. Your body hums for more.

He dips his finger in and out, enjoying the way your body arches, trying to chase after his finger each time he pulls out.

“More?” he asks, teasing two fingers at your entrance. You nod eagerly, squirming at his touch.

Yugyeom dips two fingers into you, dick twitching at the feeling of your tight walls squeezing around his digits. When he curls his fingers, you let out a loud moan, eyes fluttering shut. He reads your body easily, mouth back on your clit as he repeats the motion of his fingers over and over.

Your body tightens, heating up quickly. There’s a burn in your abdomen, a fire that flickers every time he sucks around your clit and curls his fingers against your flesh. You clench your fists around your sheets, feeling your heart pound faster against your chest.

Your whole body trembles, toes curling and abdomen squeezing until it feels like your soul lifts from your body and everything goes white.

When you come to, chest heaving like you just ran a marathon, Yugyeom is back on his knees, looking at you in awe. His lips are red and chin, wet with your arousal.

“Was that okay?” he asks, a boyish smile on his lips.

You chuckle, eyes rolling to the ceiling. “That was amazing.”

“Good.” You feel him lie on the bed beside you, arm coming around your waist.

You turn on your side, meeting his gaze. “Now it’s my turn.”

His eyes widen and the confidence from before quickly fades behind pink flustered cheeks.

“I-Are you sure? You don’t have to.”

Your hands travel down and land on the tent in his pants, straining to be released. You lift a brow at him, but he only gets more red.

“I want to,” you tell him. “I want to feel you inside me. I want this.”

He gulps and you feel him twitch against your palm. “I-I might not last long.”

You kiss his worries away. “That’s alright, you said we had all night, didn’t you?”

You pull at his waistband and he sighs at the release of his cock. You sit up and Yugyeom kicks the rest of his clothes off before helping you straddle him.

You look at him with wide eyes, before looking back at his cock. His tip is red and shiny with precum. Your eyes follow the vein that travels down the length of his cock. You can’t even help it, your mouth waters.

Your stomach flips nervously. Yugyeom seems to sense your worries when his hand rests over yours.

“You really don’t have to. We can wait.”

“I do!” you say quickly. “I just-,” you blink, swallowing thickly. “Will you fit?”

Yugyeom groans, hands squeezing around your thighs roughly. “Are you trying to make me cum before we even start?”

“I-no,” you feel your cheeks grow hot. “It’s a legitimate question!”

He chuckles, until your hand comes around his shaft. Yugyeom sighs at your touch, your soft, small hands feel like heaven compared to his own. Though you don’t intend to tease him, your hand rubs him agonizingly slow as you feel the smoothness of his skin and the ridges of his veins pulsing in your palm. You watch in awe as you squeeze up and a small clear bead of precum buds at his slit.

Yugyeom’s breath hitches when you dip your head down and lick at his slit. Your brows shoot up at the taste. He’s salty, but it’s Yugyeom and you find that you don’t mind it. Instead, your mouth waters for more.

“Fuck,” Yugyeom curses, stopping you when you try to dip your tongue down again. You look at him in surprise, but he’s quick to reassure you. “Next time, baby, I really want to last.”

You nod, flushing at the pet name.

You rise onto your knees, hands coming back down his cock to align him to your entrance. You shiver, feeling his tip between your folds. Yugyeom looks just as nervous, the heat of your entrance making his heart race.

It takes a few tries, his cock teasing between your folds, before he enters. Barely there, but you feel the stretch. He’s much bigger than his fingers, but the stretch isn’t the pain you always imagined. Unfamiliar, maybe a little uncomfortable, but nothing scary at all.

This realization fills you with a newfound courage and you sink down onto his cock with an extended sigh.

“Fuck,” Yugyeom whispers a strained curse, a devil’s grip on your hips as he squeezed his eyes shut.

Sweat beaded on his forehead and slips down his face as his jaw clenches. You’re so fucking tight and warm around him. When your cunt clenches, he groans, balls tightening. “Fuck, don’t do that.”

You still, falling onto his chest. You can hear his heart thrumming wildly in his chest.

“Sorry,” he heaves, hugging you tightly against him. “Just, I need a minute. You feel like fucking heaven, baby.”

You smile, pressing a kiss to his chest. When his cock twitches inside you, you shiver. To be honest, you’re no better either. You feel so full with him inside you. This feeling is so new, but so right. You can feel your walls pulsing around him. Or maybe it’s his cock pulsing against your walls. Probably both.

You close your eyes, savoring the feeling before Yugyeom finally let’s out a soft breath. And then, he is lifting his hips. You moan, the movement pushing him deeper into you. You place your palms on his chest, sitting up.

He looks at you with hazy eyes as you lift off his cock before sliding back down his length. Yugyeom’s moan is load and uninhibited. The sound sends another wave of arousal straight to your core.

“Oh god,” he moans, hips lifting to meet yours every time. “Fuck!”

You strain to keep your pace, his arms helping you out as you gave into the wave of pleasure each time his thick cock slide into you. Already, your whole body was buzzing with pleasure.

“Fuck, fuck,” Yugyeom’s desperate moan meets your ears and then you feel his arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you to his chest. He groans, teeth digging into your shoulder.

And then you feel it. Hot cum shooting into the deepest part of you, flooding you with warmth. The sting of Yugyeom’s teeth sinking in your skin, the sound of his heaving breath and heart beat against your ear, the pulse of his cock thrusting into you as he rode out his high—you feel like one body against his and the feeling makes your eyes wet.

You smile, pressing a kiss to his jawline as he softened inside of you.

He let out a satisfied sigh as his cock slipped out and you felt his cum slide out of you. “I’m sorry,” he finally says. “I told you I wouldn’t last long.”

You shush him with a kiss.

“I couldn’t have asked for anything better,” you smile.

His hand on your waist tightens. “You’re really the best thing to ever happen to me.”

You giggle, tension breaking. “I could get used to this Yugyeom.”

He smiles, hand coming to your cheek. “I mean it.”

He looks at you quietly. It’s a fleeting moment, but the feeling lingers. You feel warmth blooming in your chest.

You kiss him again, “I know, Gyeom. This time, I really know now.”

#got7 scenarios #got7 imagines #got7 reactions #kim yugyeom #arranged marriage au #marriage au #marriage life series #fluff #angst #smut #fanfic

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chickwiththepurpleguitar · 3 years

Note

You said to put a rebuke prompt in here sO what about a sickfic? Luke is sick and Reggie and Bobby try to take care of him but then Reggie gets sick and all that's left is a grumpy Bobby who is tired of their dumbassery

Sorry this took so long. I hope you like it!! My first try at rebuke, but hopefully not my last ;)

read on ao3 here!

The minute Bobby gets to school, he knows today’s going to be kind of a disaster.

His first clue? Luke’s not there yet. He’s not exactly late, and isn’t in any real danger of being so—it’s only 7:30, and the first bell doesn’t ring until 7:55—but if Bobby’s being honest, he can’t remember the last time Luke wasn’t early. Usually, by the time Bobby gets to school, Luke’s already bouncing around the halls somewhere, playing his guitar in the stairwell or pretending to flirt with girls outside the library or trying to break into Bobby’s locker because Bobby refuses to give Luke his combination.

Luke doesn’t like school, but he likes being at home even less. And at least at school, his friends are there.

His friends are there now—two of them at least—but Luke isn’t.

It just doesn’t bode well for things to come, in Bobby’s opinion.

“Hey,” Reggie says when he meets Bobby at his locker, blindly bumping Bobby’s fist as he glances up and down the hallway. “Luke’s not here yet?”

“Guess not.” Bobby shuts his locker and shoulders his backpack. “Alex still home sick?”

“Think so,” Reggie confirms with a nod. “He said on the phone last night he was gonna try to be back today for a Spanish test, but I don’t know, he sounded pretty rough.”

Bobby grimaces. “Better he stay home and not infect the rest of us. He can always retake a Spanish test.”

“Yeah, but you know Alex.” Reggie shrugs. “If he’s not back, can I come over tonight? Since we won’t rehearse, I mean, just—just to hang out?”

A smile pulls at Bobby’s lips as his stomach does a weird, not unpleasant, flip flop. “Yeah, man, of course you can. Luke too?”

Reggie grins. “Of course!”

Bobby nods and turns back to his locker, fiddling pointlessly with the lock so that Reggie won’t see him blushing.

It’s not that he doesn’t like Alex—he does, a lot—he just… likes Alex as a friend. And he likes Reggie… and Luke… more than that… or differently… or something.

It’s stupid, and hell if Bobby knows how to put the damn thing into words, but… he figures the more time he gets to spend with just Luke and Reggie, the better. Even if it means taking advantage of the few times Alex isn’t available to make plans.

For the next twenty minutes or so, Reggie and Bobby hang around his locker, talking about their gig coming up in a couple weeks and the math homework Bobby didn’t do and whether it’s likely for Bobby’s finicky TV to be working well enough for them to play Super Mario Bros. after school today.

At 7:52, just when they’re starting to consider giving up and going to class, Luke appears at his own locker, about halfway down the hall.

“Hey, there you are!” Reggie calls, bouncing over to him. “We thought you weren’t gonna show up today.”

Bobby follows, and the closer he gets to Luke, the more dread bubbles up in his stomach. Luke slumps against his locker, not even reacting to Reggie’s words. He looks pale and flushed at the same time, his nose and cheeks an alarming shade of cherry, and his hands tremble slightly as he tries to put his locker combination in.

Bobby stops short a good ten feet away as the pieces fall into place in his head, and before he can think of the right thing to say, what comes out is, “You look like shit.”

Luke’s response is a little delayed. When he does raise his eyes to Bobby, they’re glassy and dull, and his self-deprecating laugh and mumbled little, “Thanks, Bobs, that’s real nice,” come out so painfully hoarse that Bobby swears he feels his own throat sting in sympathy.

He takes another step back. Luke doesn’t just look terrible; he looks contagious.

Reggie, it seems, has no such reservations. He sidles right up to Luke and slings an arm around his shoulders; Luke immediately leans back into Reggie’s hold, his expression crumpling with relief like maybe he was having trouble holding up his weight on his own.

“Aw, Luke,” Reggie coos, rubbing Luke’s arm. “Did you catch Alex’s cold?”

“No,” Luke grumbles petulantly, and then contradicts himself by coughing into Reggie’s shoulder (Bobby flinches). “Maybe,” Luke amends. “But it’s Alex’s dumb saliva’s fault.”

Bobby’s stomach flips again. This time, it’s a little unpleasant. When have Luke and Alex been… sharing saliva?

“Well, Luke, bro, you shouldn’t have taken a sip of his drink when you knew he wasn’t feeling well,” Reggie chides, parental but for the most part unconcerned.

Luke pouts. “But he had a milkshake, and I couldn’t afford to get my own, and it seemed like a good idea in the moment, it was yummy!”

Relief surges through Bobby so intensely he almost feels faint with it—so Luke and Alex weren’t kissing. Okay. Good.

Not that he should have any say in what his friends do with their mouths on their own time, he just… he’d like to know about it ahead of time, if at all possible. Maybe be involved himself sometimes, that’d be nice.

Again. Stupid.

“Why are you even here?” Bobby asks, and it comes out harsher than he meant it to; Reggie and Luke both look up at him, frowning. He clears his throat and tries to soften his tone. “I mean. You should’ve stayed home, if you’re sick.”

Luke grimaces, and reluctantly pulls out of Reggie’s grip when the bell rings shrilly above them. “Mom wouldn’t let me,” he says with a wet sniff, yanking his locker open and grabbing a stack of books seemingly at random. “I didn’t have a fever, and I may have been known to fake a cold to get out of stuff once or twice… a month…” He shrugs, and drags a wrist under his nose. “Guess I wasn’t convincing enough this time.”

“This wasn’t convincing?” Bobby’s backed up another few feet, unable to take his eyes off Luke’s dripping nose, which he just wiped with his hand—God, who raised him? How and why in God’s green earth does Bobby ever find him attractive?

“In Mrs. P’s defense,” Reggie says cheerfully, “Luke’s really good at faking.”

Luke slams his locker closed. “Whatever, I’m fine. Let’s just get to class, Bobby. We’ll see you later, Reg.”

He starts, stumbling, down the hallway, toward the history class he and Bobby share. Bobby and Reggie exchange a look behind his back—Reggie’s is concerned, Bobby’s more than a little disgusted.

“Keep an eye on him, will you?” Reggie pleads. “Just until I see you guys at lunch?”

Bobby glances over at Luke, who’s paused a little ways down the hall to have a coughing fit into the crook of his arm—sleeveless, of course. “How close an eye are we talking?”

Reggie’s smile turns tolerant. “Please, Bobby? For me?”

Well, fuck, what is he supposed to say to that? He nods, stammers out a reply, and turns toward his classroom, just in time to see Luke careen forward with a spraying, uncovered sneeze.

Bobby shudders, hefts his backpack a little higher on his shoulder, and tries not to breathe.

“He better not get me sick,” he grumbles to himself, and goes to drag Luke into class.

***

They get about fifteen, twenty minutes in before Bobby starts to think, yeah, no, no way in hell this is gonna work.

Luke is struggling.

First of all, he can barely sit up straight and keep his eyes open, much less pay attention to the lecture, so Bobby highly doubts he’s learning anything. He sniffles more than breathes, coughs more than talks, and gets up out of his seat to get a tissue from the front of the room so often that their teacher Mrs. Carroll eventually just nods for him to take the whole box back to his desk.

Every time he sneezes, Bobby cringes and scoots his desk a few more inches away. Every time he coughs, Bobby sinks lower in his chair, trying to surreptitiously pull the collar of his hoodie over his mouth. Every time he blows his nose, and just leaves the dirty tissues sitting in a gross little pile on his desk, Bobby wonders how the fuck they’re even friends.

When the bell rings, Luke slumps back in his chair and coughs into a fresh wad of tissues for a full minute and a half, while their classmates file out of the room around them, giving Luke grossed-out looks as they pass.

Bobby doesn’t even have it in him to be embarrassed on Luke’s behalf, considering they’re totally justified in their disgust. Mrs. Carroll catches his eye from her desk at the front of the classroom, and before she can so much as mouth, Maybe you should take him to the nurse, Bobby nods and holds up a finger as if to say, No, yeah, I’m on it.

“Hey,” he says, kicking the leg of Luke’s chair. “Pack up your stuff, sicky, you’re going home.”

Luke frowns at him, tissues still held over his face, muffling his already stuffy protest. “What? No, I’m—”

“Shut up,” Bobby cuts him off. “I don’t care if you claim you’re fine, I don’t care if your mom will be pissed, you look and sound like shit, I’m taking you back to my place until someone can pick you up. No arguments, you hear me?”

Luke just looks at him for a moment, and Bobby worries he’s going to fight back again, but then something shifts in his expression, and he just looks so tired all of a sudden. “Yeah,” he croaks. “Yeah, okay, I—I think that’s probably a good idea.”

Bobby lets out a breath. “Good. Me too.”

It takes longer than it should to get Luke out of his seat and to the door, even after Bobby takes his books from him so that all Luke has to carry is his box of tissues. Mrs. Carroll writes them both hall passes, and doesn’t fight Bobby when he says he probably won’t be back for her government class in the afternoon.

They walk slowly down the school hallway, Luke leaning heavily into Bobby’s side so he doesn’t stumble. Bobby almost manages not to think about the germs Luke is almost definitely passing to him, because his own health doesn’t matter as much as Luke’s right now. Bobby’s worry for him is hotter, more present, in his chest than any anxiety or germaphobia.

And that worry only grows when they get to the nurse’s office and find Reggie sitting on a plastic-covered bed waiting for them.

“There you guys are!” he says cheerfully, grinning and swinging his legs like a kid. “Honestly, I didn’t think you’d last the whole period.”

“The hell are you doing here?” Bobby asks as he guides Luke into a chair.

“Felt like I was gonna throw up,” Reggie explains, then gives Bobby an exaggerated wink he doesn’t understand.

“You did? Are you okay?”

Reggie’s brows knit together. “No—Bobby, that’s just what I told Miss Ellison so I could get out of English class. I wanted to meet you guys down here so I could go with you when you leave.”

Bobby frowns. There’s a lot going on today, he doesn’t have a whole lot of brainpower to spend on Reggie’s riddles. And he’s definitely missing something here.

Apparently, Luke is just as confused. “Wait,” he croaks, sniffling and slumped over in his chair. “You’re sick, too, Reg?”

Reggie rolls his eyes. “No, Luke, not really. I just pretended so that I could go home with you guys. You are going home, right?”

“Yeah, he barely lasted one class, he’s not staying the whole day,” Bobby says, ignoring the petulant glare Luke shoots him.

“Then I’m going with you.” Reggie glances nervously between them. “Unless… you don’t want me to?”

“No,” Luke says quickly. “No, I want both of you. Please.”

Reggie grins. Bobby’s stomach flips.

“Fine, I guess we’re all sick, then,” he grumbles, ducking his head to hide his blush, and points to Luke and Reggie each in turn. “Stay there, I’ll be right back.”

It’s unfairly easy for Bobby to convince the nurse to let him drive Luke and Reggie home, since they’re both “so sick” (he doesn’t even have to pretend to be sick himself. The nurse takes one look at Luke and agrees to let Bobby go with him for no reason, if only to get his germ-ridden friend off school property).

It’s a little less easy to call Emily Patterson at work and explain to her that he’s Luke’s friend, no, ma’am, he’s really sick, I don’t mind taking him back to my house until you get off work, yes, ma’am, I’ll make sure he gets all his homework, etc, etc, etc.

Reggie’s parents don’t even pick up. Bobby has a fake conversation with “Reggie’s dad” just so he can tell the nurse with some level of confidence that Reggie’s been given permission to go home with him, too. He’s not sure she believes him. He doesn’t think she cares.

“You’re gonna get sick,” Bobby says when he returns to find Luke lying on the bed with his eyes closed, head in Reggie’s lap, sniffling into Reggie’s pant leg while Reggie strokes his hair back out of his face.

“I think he’s got a fever now,” he says, which is not at all a response to what Bobby said. “Are we ready to go?”

Bobby gives a resigned sigh. “Yeah. Yeah, let’s go.”

***

As Luke gets worse, he also gets clingier. Which, really, Bobby should’ve expected. It’s one thing in the car, where Bobby can roll the windows down and focus on driving while Luke stretches out all over Reggie in the backseat, coughing and sniffling and ignoring Bobby whenever he reminds him to cover his damn mouth.

Once they get back to his house, though, Bobby washes his hands about fifteen times in a row, then heads into the studio with the intention of recommending that Reggie do the same, only to find Reggie and Luke curled up on the pull-out couch together, fast asleep.

For a minute or two, Bobby just stands there, watching them. Both of them idiots, one of them disgusting, and yet… god, he loves both of them so much. How fucking stupid is that?

Luke’s gonna get Reggie sick, if he hasn’t already; that’s just an inevitability at this point. And then one or both of them is going to get Bobby sick, and it’s going to suck, because colds always hit Bobby super hard for no good reason, which is why he tries so hard to avoid catching them.

But a few days of misery is worth it, he guesses, if he can spend today taking Luke’s temperature and rubbing his back and forcing Vitamin C on both him and Reggie until they’re both sick of him.

And at least, whatever happens, he can blame this whole thing on Alex.

Taglist (ask to be added or removed): @whenweremarried @sunsethimb0s @pink-flame @penguin0613 @fighttoshine @sunsetcurvecuddles @teenagedirtbag-dot-jpeg @brightattheorpheum @queenmolina @jandthephantoms @lexilucacia @sapphossidechick @acnhaddict @shrimp-colours @sunset-bobby @lenacarstairspotterstewart @conversationaltreestump @burntchromas @molinapattersons @julieandthequeers @joyandthephantoms @it-tastes-like-lizard @jatpfs

#jatp #julie and the phantoms #jatp fanfiction #fanfiction #my fics #rebuke #bibobceps #bobby wilson #bobby shaw #reggie peters #luke patterson #sickfic #prompt fill #500 followers aaaah!!!

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queersturbate · 3 years

Note

not a DN ask but i was wondering if you rec Alice In Borderland? I was thinking of starting it (i love spoilers for stuff so like say whatever you want)--

OH. Hello hello jello fello

YES. I absolutely recommend alice in borderland omg?? OMG!! Yes yesyesyes please watch it and tell me your thoughts and your favorite characters and if you like the cinematography?? tell me literally everything about it if you watch it. It's literally my favorite show ever in the entire world I love it so much. omg i love it so much. I love arisu and i have so many thoughts on them. First of all, they're obviously nonbinary amab AND they're autistic. these r just facts (according to me but i'm educated)

honestly im offended /j you have to even ask if i recommend it!!! do i not scream enough about it anymore? Arisu is my favorite character of all time. They're so everything to me. I was taking kinning as a joke but. but. seeing them. and everything about them. it shook me to my core i was like mesmerized by how much arisu and I are alike. BUT alice in borderland has my favorite plot ever (im not joking i know im being repetitive and it seems like a joke but I was looking for things kento yamazaki (man who played L in the live action drama) has been in that seemed interesting and i read the plot of alice in borderland and immediately turned it on because it's my favorite plot!!!) oh! right. the plot is: do puzzles and games to survive and idk bro that shit tickles my little nerd brain because im competitive and a detective (according to Lu) so i like to try to figure out the games before the characters! usually im good at it, knowing it before they even say the whole puzzles because it's been done before, BUT this one. I got them right as Arisu did, it was SUCH a rush. They did a great job building suspense im trying to recreate it in me and lu's lawlight x aib fic but its so hard! OH but the last game we see. I could not figure that game out EVEN THOUGH. it has been done before in a show i will not tell you bc that's no fun!

Oh! also fun fact about the amazing movie oscar award winning level cinematography for aib, the cgi, the actors, the set designers, EVERYTHING... So they started filming aib in mid august of 2020 and then it was released on december 10th 2020. DO YOU KNOW HOW CRAZY THAT IS?? how did they do all that, create such beautiful scenes with pretty colors and lighting and action and cgi which people make fun of but come on, you want actual real life panthers and tigers chasing these people? calm down. BUT IT TOOK LIKE 4 MONTHS??? thats bonkers. that's so. Im befuddled.

Anyway anway to make this long answer of an extreme YES i DO. even longer: i absolutely think you should. It is such a cool show and it deserves more recognition. it is better than anything ive ever watched and everything about it is beautiful. The friendships seem very real(they dont constantly mention how long they've been friends with unrealistic dialogue, you just know they've been friends for a long time because of how they act), the blood looks like its from a video game (which i think they were trying to recreate that look), you can tell the differences between the fighting styles with different characters (Aguni: fights like he's angry, calculated, knows exactly where to hit and can block effectively. Military trained fighting, Karube: Fights like he's been in more streets/bar fights than he's been to the grocery store. Hits you to make it hurt and is a little sloppy, Usagi: fights like she's doing parkour. will jump on your back and swing around on you to get a better angle, and finally Arisu: they're a sheltered kid, has probably never been in a fight, has only gotten punched, but when they're fighting someone they're only defensive, they dont know how to throw a punch and have it land correctly. They use their entire body to keep the gun pointed away from them so they dont get injured.) how did i make this even longer?? anyway. yes jello fello i urge you to watch this and im being completely serious, if you feel comfortable then tell me your thoughts on the show! unless you dont like it<3 because then ill cry!

#Aidhsudhuddh #this is so long #long post #long post tw #aib #alice in borderland #ask #arisu ryōhei

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northcarolinanative · 4 years

Text

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐇𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐰?

TW: Mentions of Anxiety and Sexual Assault

Request: tw; jj imagine, angsty, fluff, yk that jazz. but specifically touch on topics like sexual assault (while having jj as boyfriend but not breakup after gf is assaulted)? idk i don’t ever find much of those and it almost makes me feel sometimes like it’s not that valid which it needs to be shown that it is. totally ok if u can’t write that! sorry if this doesn’t make sense

A/N: This is a topic that is very serious and I did not want to romanticize it anyway. This is very heavy, sensitive, and something that I know, sadly, a lot of people can relate to. If you are struggling with anything please reach out to anyone, you don’t have to go through it alone. As always, my inbox/ requests/ messages are open:) PLEASE let me know what you think. I am so nervous about this one. Shout out to @softstarkey for helping me read over this fic and giving me amazing feedback <3

Full Masterlist

Y/N had been acting differently, she knew it, her friends knew it, and her boyfriend knew it. Their once outgoing, life of the party friend had shifted to stand by the wall, hidden by the shadows instead of dancing on the countertops. Their fashion-forward friend had exchanged her on-trend summer wardrobe and colorful bikinis for black, oversized attire. Their once touchy friend had now become completely closed off, not letting anyone come close to her. They thought that maybe it was a spout of insecurity, or maybe just an off week when it started, by it had lasted about a month now.

Everyone was worrying, but JJ could not stop worrying about her. She had become withdrawn from him, every time he would rest his hands on her, he could feel her tense up. When they would kiss, it would be short and chaste, never long or emotional. JJ thought that it may have been something that he had done. The other pogues were trying to help him rationalize that it wasn’t his fault, she was being distant with all of them.

JJ texted Y/N asking her if she was coming to the bonfire that night. He assured her that it would be small, just the pogues and a few of their other friends. The kids from The Cut had other plans though. When Y/N arrived it was anything but small. She was terrified that Josh might be there, he was the last person that she wanted to see, but more importantly, she didn’t want JJ to see him. She shifted uncomfortably looking at the mass of people covering the sandy beach. She took a deep breath before walking forward, knowing exactly where to find the other pogues.

On her way through she was trying to politely squeeze by the other party-goers making it so that she can get to the keg. Once she found her friends she would hopefully have a sense of security in the large crowd. Certainly, he wouldn’t bother her when she was around all her friends. Her eyes lit up as she waved to her best friend Kie through the crowd. Kie was quick to grab Y/N outstretched hand, pulling her out of the sea of bodies and over to the pogues, who were serving alcohol. JJ was quick to wrap his arms around her from behind. He felt her stiffen as she had been in the past few weeks. He held up a red cup in front of her. “For you my lady,” He said, faking a posh accent and bowing, causing both of them to laugh. Y/N reached over to kiss JJ, but just peck before turning back to Kie. JJ noticed the way that Y/N wrapped her self up with her arms while sitting next to Kie though, and the way that her eyes scanned the sea of people in front of him. Something was off, but he just couldn’t bear to ask. He was scared that it was him, that Y/N was different because of him.

Y/N and Kie sat on a piece of driftwood for most of the night, talking with other pogues and a few tourons. Kooks would sometimes walk by on their way to the keg, causing Y/N to tense up. Kie was talking to some touron about the issue with single-use silverware. “You mean to tell me that everyone was like, yeah, I’ll use this fork for 15 minutes so that it can then sit in a landfill for 500 years just so that I don’t have to do the dishes.” She ranted. “Ridiculous.” She finished, obviously worked up by the tourons lack of interest. “Y/N here agrees” She nodded towards Y/N.

Y/N laughed nodding her head. “She got us all bamboo toothbrushes for Christmas last year,” She stated, causing the group to erupt in laughter.

Kiara laughed with them. “What? It’s practical.”

Y/N tensed as she heard a voice behind her. It was Josh and his group of underclassmen groupies. Her skin went cold. He was talking to JJ, she could hear their banter from the fire. Josh was a Kook which meant that JJ already despised him.

“Y/N!” Kiara waved at her as she moved beside Y/N from her spot a few seats over. “Earth to Y/N” She laughed, but when Y/N looked back over at Kie, she saw the way that she was drained, the laughter that was there before was gone. Kie followed her gaze to Josh and JJ, watching the two as Josh walked away, opposite JJ but towards Y/N and Kie. Y/N quickly turned back to Kie trying to start a conversation desperately.

“So you and Pope yea? That’s uh different.” Y/N said. She was interested in Kie’s life, but she knew that Kie would gush about it.

“I mean yea. Who would have thought Pope, you know, he’s got his head screwed on right, and he’s–”

She was cut off by Josh sitting down beside Y/N. She instantly tensed at the closeness. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to make herself as small as possible while he spoke to Kie.

He held his hand out over Y/N’s lap, causing her to flinch, to shake Kie’s hand. Kie’s eyes were filled with concern as she watched Y/N. She had never seen her act like this before. Kie cautiously took the man’s hand as he introduced himself. “My name’s Josh.” He said bringing her hand up to kiss it, just as he had done with Y/N’s that night. Y/N zoned out feeling her breath become unsteady but tried to calm herself so Kie would not become suspicious.

“Kie,” She said pulling her hand away quickly, shocked by the upfront affection.

Josh snaked his arm around Y/N’s shoulders, as she could feel the vomit in her stomach rising, wanting to get rid of all the beer in her stomach. “Y/N didn’t tell me she had another Kook friend.” He said flashing a smile at her, but Y/N’s eyes were trained to the ground and she was frozen under his arm. Kie sent a worried look over to the boys by the keg, catching Pope’s attention.

“JJ, somethings up,” Pope said tapping JJ on the shoulder as he was pouring a beer.

“What are you on about?” He laughed looking at Pope.

Pope pointed to the fire that Y/N and Kie were sitting at. “Kie gave me a look, and if I’m not mistaken, that’s a Kook, cozying up to Y/N, you’re girlfriend, right now.” JJ felt the heat rise to his face as he shoved the cup that he was holding into Pope’s stomach before storming over to the three of them. JJ was quick to shove the guy from behind. Due to his grip around her shoulders, Y/n was sent tumbling too. Josh got up quickly, standing defensively, both hands clenched at his sides. Kie quickly moved to help Y/N up and over to the side and away from the fire as the two began fighting.

“What the hell bro?” Josh asked JJ, throwing his hands up.

“Don’t touch my fucking girlfriend. You may be a Kook but I’ll kick your ass all the way back to Figure 8.” JJ said moving toward him.

Josh snapped his head in your direction, with a quick smirk. “Your girlfriend, huh?” Josh said starting to patronize JJ, seeing how far he could push it. Y/N knew what was coming. Kie noticed her change in breathing, it felt like someone had punched her in the stomach. “She didn’t mention anything about you the last time that we were here.” Josh paused a smile on his face. “Ya know when we were making out, over there in the woods.”

Josh barely finished his sentence before JJ’s hand connected with his face. All they could see was blood. Josh stumbled back making his way toward the road. “Whatever, she’s not worth it man.”

By now there were tears streaming down Y/N’s face as she turned to walk down the beach. She couldn’t breathe, it felt like her lungs were on fire. Kie followed after her, trying to console her while the boys were trying to keep JJ from starting another fight. Somewhere along the way, Sarah came over with a bottle of water, asking Y/N to try and drink it.

Once Y/N and JJ settled down, the fight seemed to have dispersed the party, the pogues sat down on the dark beach silence falling over them. JJ thought about it more and more, what Josh had said. He was convinced that she had cheated on him, but he didn’t want to believe that Y/N could do that. He didn’t think she could, but her actions recently all seemed to mirror that. He hadn’t seen the way that she stiffened up around him as Kie had, or how she had tried to curl up and disappear when she heard his voice.

JJ was the first to break the silence, he wanted to get it over with, even if it meant in front of his friends, who didn’t seem to wanna leave. “Did you do it? Is he telling the truth? Did you cheat on me?” JJ’s words came out angry and aggressive, causing Y/N to pull her knees further into her chest. Kie shot him a death stare as she continued to run her hand up and down Y/N’s back to comfort her. After what she had witnessed over the past month, pieced together with tonight’s information, she had a feeling that she knew what happened.

Y/N took a deep breath and looked at JJ, but his head was turned, looking out over the dark ocean. “Yes, he was telling the truth but I didn’t-” a sob escaped from Y/n’s mouth as she coughed, Kie leaning down to try and help, even trying to shush me. JJ thought I cheated on him. He thought I would do that to him. “I didn’t cheat on you. At least I didn’t want to.” I said dropping my head into my knees crying. “I was going to the van to get a jacket, he stopped me, and I was drunk so I was weaker and couldn’t get him off me and-” Kie wrapped her arms around Y/N, who was trying to justify herself, holding the girl as she shook.

A look of realization crossed JJ’s face as he stood up. Anger boiled through him, making him want to hurt Josh even worse than he had. He let out a grunt as he kicked the sand in front of him.

“Look this is the last thing she needs right now ok.” John B said as he looked over and pointed at Y/N practically crumbled in Kie’s arms. “That should be you.” He said before backing away and standing next to Pope and wrapping an arm around Sarah leading them back towards the van.

JJ took the short few strides to where he could kneel down in front of her. He looked at Kie, silently asking for a moment alone with her. “You okay?” Kie asked as she slowly removed herself from around the girl. Y/N sat back up nodding at Kie, before using the sleeves of her shirt to wipe away the tears on her face. Her eyes met JJ’s as Kie walked towards the van, joining the others. JJ slid his arm around her watching to see how she reacted, pulling her close when she fell into him. The short silence that fell over them seemed necessary, as they both sorted through their thoughts.

Y/N was the first to speak, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I was scared that you would be mad or wouldn’t believe me. I mean... “ She trailed.

JJ turned, putting his hands on either side of her face. “No No, this isn’t on you. This wasn’t your fault ok?” JJ said, shaking his head. His eyes started to tear up as he began wiping even more that were falling down yours. He took a deep breath, “I know why you didn’t tell me, but moving forward, don’t hide something from me, okay? Nothings gonna come between us, I don’t want that fear to stop you from getting better, or getting the help that you need, okay?” He pushed his forehead against hers, letting them both breathe for a moment. JJ’s thoughts wandered to all the changes that had overcome Y/N’s character over the past month. He felt guilty for not being alarmed enough to ask.

“I should have noticed, I’m sorry baby,” JJ said, pulling her closer to him.

“I did want anyone to. I am ashamed of it, I feel like, like it’s my fault.” Y/N choked out, she felt like she couldn’t catch a breath.

“This is not your fault.” JJ repeated as he ran his hands through your hair. “Me, the pogues, Sarah, and whoever else you need are here for you. We can get you a therapist, or talk to the police, we’ll be with you every step of the way.” He let his hand rub up and down her back. He knew that whatever steps came next were going to be hard, but he wanted to help Y/N in every way that he could.

“Thank you JJ” She pulled her head up, looking into his eye. “I’m glad I have you, really. While I didn’t get to choose to tell you, it feels better to have it out there. This all feels a little bit more manageable with you by my side.” She leaned forward and kissed JJ before pulling back. “I love you JJ.”

“I love you too Y/N,” He said as they both smiled. JJ pulled her into a tight hug again. “Oh, and I’m not letting you out of my sight from now on.”

“Oh boy” Y/N laughed, making JJ feel a little better.

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orange-waterfalls · 4 years

Text

Just Dance for the Nintendo Wii

Yancy x gn!reader

ty anon for the request!

A/N: Shit was so fun to write I swear. Just Dance was my childhood. I had a thing about memorizing all the dances in all the songs in all the games I got. I also didn’t actually look at the moves in the corner I just watched the dancer lmao. And when I found out other people didn’t do that I just ???it’s so much easier???? I might’ve projected onto Yancy a lil bit. It’s a fun fic! It is a fun and light-hearted fic, I promise. Couple curse words. TW mention of smoking and cigarettes. That’s about it. I think it could be seen as platonic or romantic. Reader does call him “babe” at one point but I call my friends darling and sweetie so I think it’s fine. Might be a few typos since I never read through my fics lmao. Enjoy!

Word Count: 2.9k

Lunch ended and you immediately shot up out of your chair, making your way down the hall. Your friends stared after you, slightly offended you didn’t even bother saying goodbye. You would have any other day, but this was important.

You stomped your way to the warden's office, pushing past the guards who mostly just gave you confused looks. You would have made your way around them, asking them to make some room, but this was important.

You kicked the door open and stomped up to the desk. The warden jumped and put a hand over his heart. You were not an aggressive person. Really, you weren’t. But this. This was important. This was the most important thing you ever came up with.

“Jesus, child, you ever heard of knocking?” He breathed, exasperated. He looked like he was gonna keep talking, so you slammed your hands on his desk. A few months before, he probably would have had you thrown in solitary for even walking in there. But you’re a good person, and you behave for the most part. So he raised an eyebrow and waited for you to make whatever point you wanted to make.

“Wii,” you said, simply. He blinked a couple times.

“Beg pardon?” He laughed. You were on a bit of a power trip and wanted to respond with “then beg”, but the conversation probably would have ended there. You made it this far without breaking down, you couldn’t stop now.

“I want a Wii,” you said, slowly. The warden squinted at you before chuckling a little. You glared daggers at him. Laugh at you, will he?!

“Now, kiddo, that ain’t--”

“Shut up. I don’t care. I just need you to listen.” He gave you a look and leaned back in his chair. You quieted for a moment, thinking about exactly what you were gonna say. You honestly hadn’t thought you’d make it this far.

“Go ahead, I’m a busy man,” He shook you out of your thoughts. You squared your shoulders.

“Yancy likes to dance,” you stated. You stared at each other in silence for a moment as you prepared your words in your head. He waved his hand, telling you to keep going. You cleared your throat, “Yancy likes to dance… and we don’t have access to the internet.”

“And you’re not going to.” He warned.

“Yeah, yeah, I figured…” You sighed. “But that’s not what I’m here for.” He knitted his eyebrows together in intrigue.

“Alright…” He leaned forward, arms on his desk.

“Yancy can’t keep coming up with songs and dances when he gets bored. It takes a long time, and he’s getting burned out. I think that if we had another- if we had access to prepared dances and songs, it’d be better.” You stuttered. That’s okay. As long as he was listening. “I think if we had a… a game, a dancing game. Like Just Dance on the Wii or something, then we’d be better. Happier? I mean, we’re happy, but… more-more happy. There’s never… too much… happy…” You lost yourself towards the end there. You started shaking a little as the whole situation hit you like a train. What the hell were you doing? This is a PRISON, not a middle school. Why would they want you to be happy? Oh, this was a stupid idea… no. You made it this far. Sure this was stupid, but you were NOT going to back down. Not until you got a-

“Ok.”

“Huh?” You asked, dumbfounded. You stared at Mr. Murder-Slaughter, and he stared right back. “What’d you say?” He stood up from his desk and walked over to you. You fought the urge to book it and stood your ground. You puffed up your chest a little to look intimidating. From the smirk he got on his face, it wasn’t working.

“I said, ok.” Your shoulders dropped and you let out a shaky breath.

“Really? I mean… really?”

“Sure, why not. Boosts morale, stops people from wanting to escape.” He shrugged. You stood there, mouth agape, probably looking like a moron.

“Thanks.” You murmured. He smiled at you, and you smiled right back. He took your shoulders and spun you around towards the door.

“Yeah, yeah, now get outta here! You’ve got dishes to do!” He pushed you out, and you gave him one last smile before running down to the kitchen. He watched you trip over your own feet and shook his head. You ran past a guard, who heard the noise and got confused.

“What the hell was all that?”

“Fuck around and find out!”

---

You startled awake to the sound of talking coming from outside your cell. You rubbed your eyes and looked around, not seeing your cellmate. You sighed and managed to lift yourself up out of the bed. You stretched and heard your back crack in several places. That sounded… worrying to say the least, but you had other things on your mind. For example: where was everyone?

You made your way through the prison, eventually ending up in the common room where everyone was talking over each other excitedly.

“Sorry, forgot to set the alarm!” A guard apologized. You nodded at him. You turned and saw Tiny and slid over next to her.

“What’re we doing? Is it Thursday already?” You whispered.

“Nah, warden bought a game system,” she answered. You stared at her, mouth open slightly. “Keep staring at me we’re gonna fight.”

“Uh, sorry.” You blinked and looked forward, standing on the tips of your toes to try and get a better look. “What gaming system?”

“A Wii. Warden said we each get 30 minutes per week.” She explained. She then waited for you to respond. You didn’t.

“Dude, you alright?” She gently reached out and shook your arm.

“Hm? Oh, yeah, I’m good.” You mumbled. “He buy any games yet?”

“Uhhhhh Super Mario Bros, Kirby’s Epic Yarn, Animal Crossing, Smash…”

“Mm-hm, mm-hm, as he should.”

“I think those Wii Sports games…”

“Just Dance?”

“Don’t know. Said to talk to him if there’s a game you want.” You nodded and gave her a small fistbump before walking over to the warden, who stood away from the group. You leaned over and saw BamBam and Sparkles in a heated game of Smash Bros. You stood next to the warden and watched.

“So, you actually listened to my request?” You looked up at him in slight disbelief.

“Course I did. Why not? Like I said, boosts morale.” He smiled. You nodded and you both looked forward again.

“How much was it?” You inquired.

“$100 on eBay.”

“Deadass?!”

“Absolutely. Great condition, too. Been used before, but not necessarily broken.”

“Come with the games?” “Some. Had to tell the guy I was buying it for my foster kids for him to give them to me. Them along with the Wii is what made it $100.” He explained

“So, we’re your kids now?” You snickered.

He only answered with a hum. You looked at him, blinking rapidly.

“What?” He said in a defensive tone.

“Nothing! Don’t worry about it!” You waved him off. He crossed his arms in a huff but dropped it.

“Buy Just Dance?”

“In the back. Saving it for when Yancy shows up.”

“Shows up? He’s not here?” “No. He went to the yard when everyone gathered here.” You hummed and looked down, thinking.

Why did Yancy leave? Did he not care about it? Did he not want to play? That would complicate things a little…

“Instead of speculating, why don’t you go ask him?” He scoffed. You looked at the warden, scandalized.

“You’re an easy person to read, child.” He set a hand on your shoulder. “He might be out in the yard.” You sighed and walked away from the cheering crowd as BamBam pumped his fists triumphantly and Sparkles fell to his knees.

---

You opened the door to the yard, peeking out to see if anyone was there. Lo and behold, there he was, Yancy, sitting on the grass having a smoke. You walked over to where he was and plopped down next to him. He jumped a little, but breathed harshly once he saw it was you.

“Whatcha doin’ out here?” You queried, softly.

“Hm.” He grunted in response.

“Everyone’s inside… having some fun…”

“Hm…”

“I think Jimmy might play Animal Crossing…”

“Hm.”

“Yancy, what’s wrong?” You sighed and turned your body towards him a little.

“Nothin’, nothin’s wrong.” He lied. “C’mon, man, we both know that’s a lie.” You tilted your head to look at him. He avoided your eyes.

“Yancy.” You said sternly. He faltered a little hearing your concern. He glanced at you. Your eyes softened. “What’s wrong?”

“Is just… I never really gots to play games when I was young… and… I dunno… don’t know… how to...” He mumbled. You nodded in understanding, shifting until your shoulders were touching his. You stared at the fence while Yancy kept smoking. You tried not to cough when he exhaled his smoke, but you couldn’t help it. He looked at you apologetically before putting the cigarette out on the grass. You both sat there for a little, enjoying each other’s company.

“So…” you breathed out after a little while. He turned to you with an eyebrow raised. “You’re upset because you don’t know how to play the games?”

“‘N I’ll look stupid while playing ‘em, yeah.” He finished with a scoff. A smile grew on your face.

“I know a game that’ll be really easy for you…” you sang. He furrowed his eyebrows at you.

“...what is it?” He hesitated. You bit your lip to keep from giggling as he looked at you worriedly.

---

“Wait, so… the hell is Just Dance?” Yancy scratched his head as you led him back to the common room. It was late, and everybody else was back in their cells. You convinced a guard to let you out by pretending you were gonna cry.

“It’s a game where you dance,” You said in a condescending tone. “Come on, Yance, use deductive reasoning.”

“I’on even know what that means,” He argued playfully. You brought him to the small TV, handing him a remote as you turned it on.

“It just… There are songs with dances prepared, and you have to do the dances as you see them on screen. Got it?” You looked up at Yancy, who was busy staring at the glowing screen of the tv. It was on the Wii home menu, so there wasn’t much to see. However, to Yancy, it was one of the coolest things he’d ever seen.

“Whoa whoa whoa, wassat?” He pointed at the screen and jumped a bit when he saw the cursor move as he moved the remote. He shifted it over until it was on the Mii Channel.

“Uh… that’s the place where you can make a little avatar of yourself. It works on some of the games, but not Just Dance.” You explained. “...you wanna make a Mii?” He pouted and gave you puppy dog eyes. You rolled your eyes and stood up, bringing your Player One cursor on the screen and clicking the channel.

You told Yancy the mechanics, how to change everything, and what to do once he was done. You made your own Mii, explaining everything along the way, and told him to make his once you were done. Yancy, being the creative boy he is, spent half an hour on his Mii, trying to get everything perfect. You just stood next to him, trying not to yawn. Like I said, it was late. Eventually, he finished and you both got to see your Mii’s next to each other, along with some other people’s. He kept dragging his over next to you, trying to force them to interact. He got very upset when you told him they couldn’t hug or anything. He let you exit out of the channel and go into Just Dance.

“Any particular song?” You scrolled through the songs, letting them play for a couple seconds so he could know what each was like.

“Stop!” He called. “Go back.” You scrolled back to the last song you let play.

“Britney Spears? Serious?” You teased. It was all in good fun, you loved her too. Who wouldn’t?

He grumbled a little to himself. It sounded a little like “not my fault her songs bop”. You breathed out a chuckle and clicked the song, whisper-singing the lyrics as you did.

“My loneliness is killin’ me… Blue, green, orange, or pink?” You asked. After not getting an answer, you looked at Yancy to see the problem. He was frowning at the screen. “Yance?”

“Why’re they all girls?”

“Because it’s a traditionally girl-ish song.”

“I’m not a girl.”

“I know you’re not. Just pick a color.”

“Why are they cheerleaders?”

“Because they can be. Yancy, pick a color.”

“But why-”

“Yancy I swear to God pick a fucking color.” He hummed and then picked blue. You picked green.

You got into the same stance as the girl on the screen, and Yancy copied you. The music started up, and you started dancing. Yancy seemed a bit startled as he hurried to copy you. He wheezed out a little laugh, flailing his arms a little, trying to figure out what move you were on. You bit your lip to not laugh at him. You both kept going, and Yancy eventually got into the rhythm. He stuck his tongue out in concentration and you stared for a moment, not believing how adorable he was. Then you remembered that there was a winner in this game so you shook your head and kept dancing.

Eventually the song ended, and you both breathed a little harder than normal. You looked at your scores, and found that you'd won. You clapped your hands and cheered. Yancy crossed his arms.

"Whatever, this is my first time!" He scoffed. But you could see the smile on his face. You stretched your arms and yawned, turning the Wii off and leaving the remote.

"Welp, we should get back--" you turned to head towards your cell.

"No!" Yancy stood in front of you. You tried to go around him, but he kept blocking your way. He grabbed your shoulders and held you in place.

"I want a rematch."

"Yancy, it's late…" you whined.

"Just one more! Please?" He pleaded. He, again, gave you those puppy dog eyes you could never say no to. You sighed loudly, grabbing the remote again and turning the Wii back on.

"I don't understand why you can't do this yourself…" you mumbled, clicking on Just Dance again.

"I… like spending time with you," he said softly. You squinted at him.

"You'd feel awkward dancing alone, huh?"

"Yeah…"

"Fine."

"Ooh! Let's do--"

"Nah, nah, nah. You're keeping me up. I get to pick the song."

"...'This is Halloween'?"

"Bet your ass."

"But that--"

"Shut it, Yancy, I'll leave."

"Okay! Sorry…

"..."

"...can I be the pumpkin?"

"Of course you can be the pumpkin, babe."

---

You woke up really tired in the morning. You didn't know when you got back to bed, but the guard that let you out was asleep by the door when you arrived. You didn't even consider escaping, you were so tired. You just entered the cell and shut the door behind you.

In the morning, you got up and dragged yourself into the common room again. Everyone was playing the Wii again. You rubbed your eyes and stood next to Tiny.

"Fuck happened to you?" She scoffed.

"Yancy happened…" you yawned

"Ah. Long night, huh?" She raised an eyebrow.

"Ye-no. Wait, what? No, gross. We played Just Dance."

"Oh, was it fun?"

"For the first couple. The rest I was way too tired to be happy about…"

"Aw, did wittle baby need theiw nap?" She teased.

"I'm not wi-little! I'm not-I'm not little! Shut up!" You complained as she laughed.

"Well, Jimmy played Wii tennis against a guard. Now he's playing the warden."

"Seriously? Oh my God."

"He's currently the reigning champion."

"Who's going against him next?" You hear a thud, like someone fell.

"Got-dang it!" Mr. Murder-Slaughter yelled.

“That’d be me,” She patted you on the back before walking up next to Jimmy. Mr. Murder-Slaughter passed her as she walked, limping. He stood by you.

“You seem to be having fun.” You teased.

“Ah, shut it…” He growled and rubbed his arm. “How’s Yancy?”

“He’s good. He likes the game a lot.” You explained.

“I’d hope so, otherwise there was no reason to buy this thing.” He scoffed.

“Eh… I dunno about that…” You listened to Tiny laugh loudly from where she stood in front and smiled. You turned your head a little and saw Yancy leaning against the opposite wall. You caught each other’s eyes. He nodded his head to the Wii. You shrugged and walked up. He did the same.

Once Tiny and Jimmy were done with their match, Jimmy keeping his title as champion, you and Yancy walked up to the wii, taking the remotes and clicking Just Dance.

“What song should we do?” You scrolled through the list.

“Avril Lavigne!” Someone yelled from the back of the room. You had a sneaking suspicion of who it was, but kept it to yourself.

“Girlfriend by Avril Lavigne it is!” You clicked the song.

“Uh… I don’t know this song, bud,” He whispered to you. You clapped a hand on his shoulder.

“Oh you’re gonna love it.”

“I’m not sure I like that look.”

“Calm down, it’ll be great.”

“Okay… can i be the punk girl?”

“I wanna be the punk girl…”

Cue the puppy eyes…

“...fine, you can be the punk girl.”

#yancy iplier #yancy markiplier #ahwm yancy #yancy x reader #yancy x y/n #yancy x you #yancy x gn!reader #yancy x male!reader #yancy x female!reader #x reader #x reader fanfiction #x male!reader #x female!reader #x gender neutral reader #ahwm x reader #markiplier egos x reader #markiplier ego fanfic

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tardis-stowaway · 5 years

Text

Ten years after the Not-pocalypse, Adam Young, age 21 and recently graduated from university:

-Works in a crappy retail job and lives in a tiny, crappy flat in London

-The crappy flat has no sound insulation, so he’s always hearing the absurd amount of movement from the people in the flat above and the really loud but not quite intelligible conversations from the people in the flat next door. It’s a long way to the nearest public park, and he misses the green of home.

-Is not all that good at his customer service job, with the exception that if a customer is irrationally angry about something, he says he wants to make sure he understands the problem and repeats their complaint back to them with this look in his eyes, and they universally back down and often apologize. His coworkers love him for it. Everything else is just drudgery.

-Single, despite his best efforts. Okay, maybe not his best efforts, but some efforts.

-Knows that his childhood was uncommonly idyllic at least partly due to his powers. He’s not entirely sure how his life went quite so off the rails lately.

-Maybe his powers have faded gradually since he rejected his destiny, or maybe it’s just that on some level he absorbed the expectation that being in one’s early 20’s means being broke and a little lost, and the expectation made it happen whether he wanted it or not.

-Or maybe he just should’ve chosen a more employable course of study at uni instead of comparative religion. In his defense, it seemed relevant to his life.

-Spends much of his free time on climate crisis activism. He’ll be damned (ha) if he stood against the forces of Heaven and Hell, the Four Horsepeople of the Apocalypse, and his own birthright to preserve the continuing existence of humanity on the Earth only for humans to blunder into destroying themselves unintentionally through greed and shortsighted decisions.

-He’s been doing this since he was twelve, when Brian sent the Them’s group text an article about the group Extinction Rebellion with the caption “named for us?? :)” Adam had laughed, then actually read the article. Within a week he’d convinced the Them and a dozen of their classmates to show up at the next town council meeting with a list of sustainability demands.

-No matter how many civil disobedience events he takes part in, he never seems to get arrested. Adam suspects it’s his supernatural entity privilege. Pepper says it’s probably mostly that he’s white and great at charming his way out of trouble.

-He’s still friends with all of the Them, but they don’t live especially close together. He does have a flatmate, an American who Adam met at uni.

-At this point you, a genre-savvy reader of much Good Omens fic and meta, are probably seeing the word “American” and thinking that Adam is flatmates with Warlock Dowling. For once, you are wrong.

-Adam’s flatmate is Jesus.

-Not Jesus Christ, but a young man named Jesus Dominguez, pronounced the Spanish way (like hay-soos).

-Jesus is from Southern California, and he talks more than a little bit like a surfer stereotype. He’s got warm brown skin, shoulder-length dark hair in perpetually-mussed waves, and a little beard. He’s kinda leaning into the look to mess with people, but it’s also the same style found on at least a third of the other male-presenting hipsters in London.

-When he learned that he was going to share a flat with someone named Jesus, Adam called Crowley and Aziraphale. He’s never been gladder that he stayed in touch with them, because he NEEDED someone who understood how the Antichrist and Jesus sharing a flat sounded like the setup for a joke or a sitcom. Crowley did indeed laugh out loud, then told Adam that as a fellow lapsed member of the forces of Hell, he could personally recommend sharing quarters with a heavenly adversary. Aziraphale just muttered “oh, stop” at Crowley.

-Adam moved to London because it was easier to get to the important protests there, and because he was curious. He spent the first six months desperately homesick for Tadfield. The city was so crowded but somehow he still felt so alone, other than Jesus.

-Then a midnight fire-alarm in their building sent him and Jesus into the streets along with dozens of their neighbors. Adam finally met the people in the flat above theirs who made all that moving around noise. They were an older couple who took ballroom dancing lessons at the senior center and liked to practice at home. Mrs. Kapoor tried to teach Adam how to foxtrot right there on the pavement in the middle of the night. He stepped on her feet, but since he was in bare feet and she’d actually taken the time to find shoes it wasn’t a big deal.

-Meanwhile Jesus was finally talking to the loud young men from next door. By the time Adam wandered over, Jesus had learned their names (Leon, Seamus, and Nazim) and secured an invitation for the two of them to come over to watch Saturday’s football match, and to join their next D&D campaign (“just no more paladins,” said Nazim). Adam looked forward to finding out whether it was the D&D or the football that was the cause of more yelling.

-As the evacuation stretched on with no hint of either actual fire or clearance to go back inside, the building’s children began to get fussy. Adam found a coin on the ground (successfully picking it up, because Crowley didn’t make it to this neighborhood very often) and proceeded to distract them with stage magic.

-He initially learned stage magic from Aziraphale, but he’s better at it than the angel ever was. He hardly cheats physical reality at all. The kids love it.

-When the fire department finally gives them the clearance to go back inside, Adam’s stomach rumbles. “Is anyone else hungry?,” he asks, to a chorus of agreement. It’s too late for any nearby takeout, but Jesus chats with their neighbors about options.

-Jesus enlists Adam’s help in going from flat to flat gathering ingredients from everyone, and before long they’re serving fish tacos and grilled cheese sandwiches to a small crowd of pajama-clad people. It’s 2 am, but everyone is smiling, or at least has contentment at the edge of their yawns.

-The next day, Mrs. Kapoor brings Adam and Jesus a spider plant cutting, because she thought their flat looked too bare. Adam texts a picture of it to Crowley and receives back lengthy instructions on watering, pot size, soil, and the most effective threats for the species.

-Five months later, the local planning council has an intense debate about why crime rates in one neighborhood have dropped by 75% since their last meeting. They each try to claim credit for their pet civic projects. Actually, it’s because Adam Young has started to love London, or at least his nook of it.

-Buskers soon realize that certain tube stops are generating far more tips than they ever have before, with no obvious demographic shift accounting for the change. The common ground is that these are the stops on Adam’s commutes to work and his activist meetings. He can only occasionally spare a tip himself, but his enjoyment of the music is contagious.

-Even after the breakthrough, not every day is good. On a late summer day that just happens to be the anniversary of the day the world didn’t end, Adam comes home from a protest fuming.

-“Dude, you okay?” asks Jesus, looking up from his guitar. (Jesus sometimes goes to protests with Adam, but not usually the ones where they’re planning on breaking laws. “I’m a brown-skinned foreigner, man. Do you think I’ll get away with what you get away with? I’m not ready for that yet,” he says, and Adam can’t argue.)

-“The media barely showed up at our event, probably because it was about a million degrees and even though that’s exactly what we’re protesting, nobody wants to be out in it. Six of our people passed out from the heat and three got arrested. They still didn’t arrest me, but I got pushed over and cracked my phone screen. On my way home, some drunk on the tube vomited on my shoes. Our green jobs bill still doesn’t have the votes in Parliament, and have you seen the latest news on the Antarctic ice sheets?” Adam kicks off his shoes, then collapses dramatically onto the futon and groans.

-“Sounds rough,” says Jesus.

-“I should’ve just ended the damn world when I was eleven and I had the chance. Would’ve been quicker,” Adam mutters.

-Jesus gets up and goes to the kitchen. He brings Adam a beer. “You don’t mean that, bro,” he says.

-Adam sighs, accepting the beer. “I suppose not.”

-He drinks his beer. Dog, now grey-muzzled and slow, shuffles over to curl up at his feet. Adam pulls out his phone, which is cracked but still seems functional. He’s got a text from Aziraphale.

-“Dear Adam,” the text begins, because Aziraphale might have finally deigned to learn to text but he steadfastly refused to adopt its stylistic conventions, “I hope that you have returned safely from today’s protest. I’m very proud of your continuing efforts, and though he won’t admit it I know that Crowley feels the same. Please write back at your earliest convenience. Fondly, Aziraphale”

-Adam texts back to reassure the angel, who will doubtless pass it on to Crowley, then he texts similar reassurances to his parents and to Mrs. Kapoor upstairs. He’s still figuring out this adulthood thing, but he’s got a lot of parental figures looking out for him. His Infernal Bio-Dad isn’t one of them, and that’s the way Adam likes it.

-Through the open window comes the sound of music blasting from a car stuck in traffic below. Freddie Mercury and David Bowie are singing:

And love dares you to care for the people on the edge of the night, And love dares you to change our way of caring about ourselves.

-He turned down the chance to rule the world, and he’d make the same choice again, but he still feels a certain proprietary responsibility towards the planet and its inhabitants. His father—his real, earthly father—didn’t raise him to shirk responsibility, and he’s not one to cave under pressure.

-Life is hard, people are mostly idiots, and the world is coming apart at the seams, but it’s his messed up life and his idiotic people and his beautiful, half-broken world.

#good omens #adam young #good omens headcanons #fanfic #post-canon #please excuse any errors and americanisms #long post #tardis-stowaway's writing & stuff

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vex-bittys · 4 years

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Flufftober 2020: Day Seven

Prompt: Dancing

Pairing: Horrortale Skelebros

Category: Familial

----------

It was so strange. Without the pressing need to scavenge for any scrap of food that they could get their hands on, the skeleton brothers who’d escaped from the Horrortale universe found themselves with an abundance of free time and no idea how to fill it. Axe appreciated the down time, but Crooks believed that he and his brother needed activities to burn off their excess magic and calm Axe’s nagging mania.

Cooking classes were out of the question; the skeleton brothers still saw food as something sacred. It tempted fate to use it for creative pursuits, and the two skeletons would never truly lose their paranoia of losing it. Crooks preferred something relaxing but with motion and beauty, something that embodied everything that their Underground had lacked. Axe agreed with anything that brought a smile to his brother’s face, so they decided to try dancing.

A few internet searches pointed the pair of skeletons to weekly Latin dance lessons at the local community center. Crooks stared in excitement at the photos on the community center webpage. The dancers wore vibrant outfits and their movements embodied powerful emotion. Most importantly, Crooks felt that his extremely long limbs could be tamed into the graceful positions and elegant expressions of the dance.

Axe and Crooks signed up for the classes immediately, and Crooks’ excitement only grew as their first session drew near. The tall skeleton bounced in place as Axe opened the door to the community center gymnasium. The murmur of conversation trailed off as every eye in the room, all of them both curious and human, turned to the monsters in their midst. The humans closest to Crooks shrank away in fear, and one woman shrieked before clapping both of her hands over her mouth to silence herself.

Axe was no stranger to fear and revulsion. In the Underground and here on the Surface, everyone he met, human and monster, viewed his broken skull and ragged red eyelight with blatant uneasiness and poorly disguised disgust. He expected it, and it didn’t really bother him anymore. One look at Crooks’ distraught features told Axe that his brother was bothered by it… a lot.

Suddenly, Axe saw enemies, threats, danger. His mind quickly grew crowded with confused thoughts that he couldn’t untangle, and this reality became jumbled with his former life in the Underground. Crooks grabbed his arm, hastily mumbled apologies, and backed out of the room as Axe’s one working eyelight expanded and began to glow.

“COME ALONG BROTHER,” the gentle giant coaxed his brother in a soothing voice. Still gathering his thoughts, Axe followed Crooks out of the community center building building and away from the judgmental dance students. It took him hours to settle his mind and react appropriately to the situation.

“stupid humans act like they’ve never seen a skeleton before. they’ve got a skeleton inside ‘em all the time, but the sight of one still sets ‘em off, screaming and carryin’ on,” Axe ranted.

“I FRIGHTEN THEM, BROTHER. I AM VERY TALL, AND MY TEETH ARE QUITE STARTLING IN APPEARANCE,” Crooks argued though he secretly felt ashamed and embarrassed by the whole debacle.

“yer perfect, bro, and they can shove their dumb prejudices up their fleshy-” Axe proceeded to explain in exceptionally graphic detail exactly what the humans should (but were probably physically unable to) do with their opinions of Crooks.

Though the incident at the community center left him crestfallen, Crooks appreciated his brother’s quick defense of him. Even if nobody else liked him, he knew he could trust Axe to have his best interests at heart. He just needed to figure out a different hobby, preferably one that didn’t involve interacting with humans.

Axe refused to let the matter drop though. He didn’t mention it to his brother, but he spent a great deal of time researching Latin dance instructors in their area. One by one, he contacted them about lessons for self-conscious monsters. He doubted he could lure Crooks to another class, but perhaps he could learn the dance steps and instruct Crooks himself? He remembered the expression on Crooks’ face when they’d first discovered Latin dance, and that image drove him on until he found a teacher.

The wizened woman had once danced professionally, and she had retired from her days both as a professional and an instructor, a fact which she explained to Axe over the phone right before she hung up on him. Most of the potential teachers waited until he mentioned being a monster with a grotesque head injury before turning him down. Retired, he could deal with. He contacted her again, telling her in one babbling rush about Crooks and the community center incident.

The other end of the phone line was silent, but he didn’t hear a dial tone, only the weight of unspoken consideration. “And he won’t come to classes?” the elderly woman asked.

“”he’s very self-conscious already,” explained Axe, “an’ after what happened, he’s reluctant t’ go out in public again.”

“Understandable. I expect you to be at my studio at 8 am sharp.”

Punctuality never mattered much to Axe, but every single day he showed up promptly at 8 o’clock in the morning for his private dance lessons. The focus needed to learn the complex steps helped him calm his often tumultuous mind, and he found himself truly enjoying each dance that he learned. There were many to learn, it turned out. Latin dance was a style of dancing, not just one set of dance steps, and it included many different dance types.

After months of intensive lessons, Axe could samba and mambo with the best of them, and his paso doble had been declared passable! Thankfully, his instructor also made him practice teaching the steps. When she finally declared him ready, she also challenged him to convince Crooks to visit the studio because flamenco (the style of dance that mesmerized him the most) required an expertise to teach that Axe couldn’t develop in a short amount of time.

She also asked him an important question: Had he been able to find an outfit for Crooks (who absolutely adored the dresses worn in Latin dances) in his very unusual size. Axe hadn’t considered clothing, and admitted this to the kindly older woman. She nodded; his answer didn’t surprise her. Fortunately, in addition to being a talented dancer, she possessed some decent skills as a seamstress and had designed all of her own competition costumes.

With Crooks’ estimated measurements in hand, the woman promised to have something ready in time for Axe’s surprise at the end of the month. Axe warned her not to overwork herself, but excitement over doing something kind for Crooks was apparently extremely contagious. When the instructor showed him her sketches the next day, Axe’s jaw nearly dropped to the floor. These dresses were everything Crooks could ever want and more, all saturated fire tones and ruffles that would echo and accentuate every movement of Crooks’ body.

The woman refused all of Axe’s offers of money, saying that she wanted to see Crooks happy more than she needed cash. After all, she pointed out, she was retired and no longer taking on paying clients. Over the course of their lessons, she had come to consider Axe, and by extension, Crooks, to be friends.

Axe snuck the garment bag into his brother’s room while Crooks was busy doing magic exercises. With the costume stealthily delivered, Axe went downstairs and approached his brother. “remember how you wanted t’ learn Latin dancing?” he asked Crooks; if you asked Axe about subtly, he would’ve guessed it was a hot beverage.

Crooks tensed instantly, remembering the woman who had screamed at the sight of him. “NO, NO. THAT’S ALRIGHT. I DON’T WANT TO MAKE PEOPLE UNCOMFORTABLE. I DON’T WANT THEM TO BE SCARED OF ME,” the last words came out softly, as quiet as Crooks’ voice ever sounded.

“lucky for you then: i took some classes myself. got you an outfit n’ everything. i can teach you myself now.” Axe smiled proudly. Crooks stood frozen for a moment then swept Axe up into his arms, spinning him around. As soon as he set Axe back on his feet, he dashed upstairs, and Axe heard his gasps of wonder when he saw the custom-tailored garment.

Axe said a silent thank you to his instructor-cum-seamstress for her talent. Even working with estimates alone for Crooks’ measurements, the costume fit wonderfully, clinging and flowing in all of the right places. Crooks almost floated down the stairs, doing a little twirl at the bottom to show the flounce of the skirt.

Axe stepped forward and made a formal bow. He’d removed his hoodie to reveal a T-shirt printed to look like a tuxedo though he still wore his basketball shorts. Looking up at Crooks’ unabashed smile he asked: “may i have this dance?”

READ ON AO3

DAY SIX | INDEX | DAY EIGHT

#vex does flufftober #undertale flufftober #horrortale #horrortale skelebros #horrortale papyrus #horrortale sans

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lemonysharkbait · 4 years

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Here for Me - Mo Guan Shan x Zhan Zheng Xi

A year after Jian Yi's sudden disappearance and He Tian's subsequent mysterious departure, Zhan Zheng Xixi and Guan Shan start hanging out. Feelings get complicated.

Made this because I have headcanons about how the relationship between Mo and Xi will be after the other two disappear (it's only canon that Jian Yi will disappear, but it seems heavily implied that He Tian might depart at some point as well.) I think they genuinely like each other (in a bro way) in the Manhua. Add in a dash of angst and some feelings and you've got yourself some delicious fanfiction.

Tags/warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, non-typical pairing, minor violence, aged up characters, there was only one bed, feelings

Read on AO3

---

Guan Shan gripped the banner tight, too tight. His knuckles went white and She Li’s words seemed to go white too.

Which way do I go?

Sweet snake with a tongue like honey. It had been lashing him with words, threats, ever since Jian Yi and He Tian disappeared like the pop of a chewing gum bubble.

“Well? It’s a year since graduation, Guan Shan, and where are you now?”

He knew he shouldn’t slide there. It was the last little gift that he grasped onto. Images of a cut palm and blood soaking a white jacket flooded his mind.

Guan Shan turned to answer and face the torrent of cold rage. But instead a heavy hand landed on his shoulder, sending his heartbeat off in a flutter. He Tian?

No, this hand was different, the scent of the person different. The voice had a different rumble and cantor.

“Guan Shan, there you are. Let’s go.”

Zhan Zheng Xi’s grip was strong and sure as it turned Guan Shan, tugging him away. She Li, surprised at the intervention of a friend– god, when was the last time he’d had one of those?– took a minute to catch up.

“Where are you going?”

Zhan Zheng Xi’s voice was even and flat as he spoke, brokering no argument. “Playing video games.”

She Li looked like he wanted to argue but they were in the midst of a crowd now and he was unbalanced. His eyes, sharp and angry, made contact with Guan Shan before he walked off in the other direction. Diverted. For now.

They walked in silence through the crowded streets like floating underwater, both slipping through the eddies. After awhile, Zhan Zheng Xi’s hand slipped from Guan Shan’s shoulder. They didn’t speak.

“Well, here’s my place, you can come hang out if you want.”

Guan Shan looked up at the nondescript block of apartments stretching high and long into a too bright sky. “Only if you’re ready to be obliterated in Super Smash.”

This brought back memories. Sprawled out on the floor, junk food and soda scattered around, the only light coming from the television. Guan Shan’s thigh was warm where it pressed against Zhan Zheng Xi’s.

Xixi’s little apartment was equal parts sterile and dirty. An unused kitchen next to a living room strewn with old carryout cartons. A neatly made bed next to a night stand filled with half-drunk water bottles. An uncluttered bathroom sink that needed to be wiped down.

He had never seen this space, having only spent time at Zhan Zheng Xi’s family house. The smell was still comforting. A hint of sweat, a touch of generic men’s body wash, no cologne. It brought him back to that summer.

The game pinged defeat. Guan Shan tossed his controller down in mock annoyance.

“You cheated fucker.” He shoved Zhan Zheng Xi.

“Maybe you’re just not as good as you think you are.” There was a little pause and a smile that you would only see if you knew Zhan Zheng Xi.

Guan Shan sat up “Ok, that’s it!” Arms locked around in a tackle, an embrace that was a struggle for control. Flailing, a bottle of coke went rolling across the floor and Guan Shan’s world flips. Zhan Zheng Xi is more solid than he was even a year ago, hours spent at the gym between college classes. Guan Shan’s wiry strength, culled from working on his feet at three different jobs, is no match. Flipped on his back and pinned, Guan Shan finds himself laughing. He can’t remember the last time this sound has come out of him.

They still.

“What were you doing with She Li?”

Fuck, now isn’t that a question.

“Nothing. He approached me. Fucker keeps finding me.”

“Are you going to work for him?”

“No.”

“Is he bothering you?”

Guan Shan looks up into those intense blue eyes, represses a shiver. “What would you do if he was?” It’s a challenge. Always is.

Zhan Zheng Xi releases Guan Shan’s wrists and sits up a little. His lips are pursed and he looks at Guan Shan like he already knows enough.

“Don’t get involved Zhan Zheng Xi. She Li’s not a nice guy. He’ll leave me alone when he gets bored. Always does.” Guan Shan sits up on his elbows. Looks around. Sighs.

“I should go, I got work early tomorrow.” He reaches for his phone. Notices that Zhan Zheng Xi hasn’t slid off his thighs yet. Doesn’t mind except for the tricks it’s playing on his mind. It’s been awhile and having someone so close is sending signals he’s working hard to repress.

“You can crash here.”

Guan Shan glances at him from the corner of his eye. Wishes he hadn’t as soon as he sees that intense stare. His eyes dart back to his phone, pretending to be entranced by the time. “Thanks man, but I really should go.”

“I’ll go with you.”

Guan Shan barks out a laugh “Thanks, but I’ll be fine.”

“I don’t mind.”

God, the weight of this man’s stare is too fucking much. And they’ve spent an awful long time pressed together staring at each other. It’s the only reasoning Guan Shan can come up with for his stupid impulse, surging forward and capturing a taste. Warm lips and a moment where nothing happens. And then Zhan Zheng Xi starts kissing back and that’s when Guan Shan’s sense comes flooding back to him.

“Shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t– I’m sorry.” Guan Shan scrambles out from under Zhan Zheng Xi, snatches his jacket and keys and starts slipping on his shoes.

“Guan Shan–”

“Thanks for everything today. Text me some time.” And with that he slips out the door and nearly jogs down the hallway, a chorus of “stupid fucking idiot” running through his mind.

*** They hang out again and Guan Shan successfully keeps his hands to himself. He does not think about the way Zhan Zheng Xi siddles up next to him, thigh to thigh, shoulder to shoulder. He does not consider staying when it’s late and his eyes are heavy and maybe they could share the one bed. And he definitely does not linger on Zhan Zheng Xi’s lips when the other man sees him to the door.

They don’t say much out loud. That was what Jian Yi and He Tian were good at. But they text. A lot. They text about video games. Work, school and basketball. And when they’re really feeling bold, they text about them.

“Who are you talking to?”

Guan Shan looks up from his phone, his mom’s question cutting into his little world. “No one.”

“You were smiling at your phone.”

She has the all-knowing mom smirk sitting lightly on her features. Guan Shan shovels more food in his mouth. Bounces his leg. “Just looking at stupid stuff on the internet.”

She looks like she wants to say more but doesn’t.

“Work’s supposed to go late tonight, so don’t worry about me.”

“I’ll always worry about you, it’s my job.” She says it fondly, lightly teasing. Guan Shan pushes away from the table grabbing his duffle.

“I’ll see you later mom.”

“Be safe Shan-Shan.”

*** This wasn’t exactly safe, but that was the thrill of it. Hands wrapped tight, lights in the makeshift ring blaring down on him, Guan Shan bounces on the balls of his feet and lets the energy of the crowd roll through him. There’s something hot and vicious prickling under his skin, the kind of feeling that keeps him up all night, makes his heart flutter when he gets a message notification and has sent him on long jogs with no relief. Time to release the tension, relieve some of this pressure that sits in his belly.

He passes a hand over his face, then balls them up in front of him, ducking into a defensive position. His opponent is pretty like a quarterback, chin chiseled like Clark Kent. Guan Shan snarls, bearing his mouth guard, spits out an insult and tenses for the bell, the signal to the start of this dance.

It comes and he goes.

He doesn't feel most of the blows as they happen, high on adrenaline and something else he doesn’t have words for. Maybe it’s all the late nights finally catching up with him. The other guy has a size advantage but Guan Shan feels unhinged. They go all three rounds and by the end of it, both can barely hold up their arms. Guan Shan wins by decision. He clasps his opponent’s wrapped hand and thanks him. The guy raises his eyebrows.

“This your therapy kid?”

Guan Shan barks out a harsh, unhinged laugh. And that’s when he finally feels the shooting pain in his right hand.

*** The call to Zhan Zheng Xi rings twice before he picks up.

“Hey, you’re awake.”

There’s a pause before Zhan Zheng Xi answers. His voice is flat as ever but it sounds strangely controlled. “Where are you?”

Guan Shan feels his stomach clench in a funny way, like he’s done something wrong. “Uh, actually, it’s ok, sorry if I woke you.”

The voice on the other line is tighter now “Mo, tell me where you are, I’ll come get you.” There’s a pause then “Please.”

*** Guan tries to clean himself up as best he can. There’s more cash than he’ll make all month in his duffle bag. The water in the shower runs red for awhile before finally clearing up. He looks at his face and it’s not pretty. They taped him up, but it’s gonna take awhile for the swelling to go down on his left eye. There’s also a cut on his forehead that keeps opening and dripping thin rivulets down his face. Nothing will leave permanent marks. Guan Shan prods at the swollen skin and grimances. The worst part is his right hand. His knuckles are split– that’s normal –but the stiffness and strange way his pointer finger now sits are not normal. Pulling on a shirt takes a little more work than he’d like but at least now he finally feels hollowed out, completely empty, all the fire and flame gone. The restlessness is replaced with a bone-tired ache.

Zhan Zheng Xi pulls up in a little beater, a hand-me-down of a car that looks like it’s nearing its last leg. The brunette hops out the car as Guan Shan walks up. The spike of excitement at his presence is completely involuntary. Guan Shan tries his best to taper it down and go for relaxed and normal. As though his face doesn’t look like ground beef right now.

“Hey.”

“Who did this to you?”

That was not the first question he was expecting. Maybe a “what the fuck did you do?” or the classic: “Guan Shan, what did you get into this time?” But the look Zhan Zheng Xi was giving him was making his belly do funny little flips.

“No one.”

Zhan Zheng Xi raises an eyebrow. His normal thousand yard stare somehow looks absolutely murderous.

“It was just a friendly fight. I won.” Guan Shan grins and his taped lip splits open. “You should see the other guy.”

A muscle in Zhan Zheng Xi’s jaw jumps but he seems to swallow whatever impulse has him staring daggers into the exterior of the building. Wordlessly, he slides the duffle bag off Guan Shan’s shoulder and heads towards the car.

***

City lights pass by in a blur. A soft summer storm breaks across the sky. The air smells like ozone and the night feels still.

“Which hospital do you want to go to?”

It’s another question Guan Shan was not expecting. “None of them. I’m fine, really, I just, can I crash at your place tonight? I just want the swelling to go down a little before my mom sees me.”

There’s a long controlled exhale but Zhan Zheng Xi turns onto the highway toward his place. Guan Shan settles into the seat feeling warm from the free alcohol he drank– winner’s choice –and comforted with the rocking of the car.

*** They arrive and Guan Shan finds himself feeling stiff. His ungraceful exit out of the car has Zhan Zheng Xi by his side gingerly lifting and guiding.

“I’m really fine, just gonna be sore.”

“You were drinking.”

Their faces are close as Zhan Zheng Xi supports Guan Shan. He’s also holding his bag.

“Oh, yeah, winner gets a bottle. The rest is in my bag if you want it.”

Zhan Zheng Xi doesn’t say anything at that, just smoothly maneuvers them inside to the kitchen and leans Guan Shan up against the counter. He busies himself with getting a glass of water. Guan Shan watches with his good eye appreciating the other’s sure build.

“It’s probably best if I just crash on the floor, this thing keeps busting open,” Guan Shan points to where he thinks the cut is. It’s hard to tell now that his left eye has completely swollen shut. “I don’t want to make a mess–”

Zhan Zheng Xi is suddenly there, filling his vision. Guan Shan realizes a moment late that he’s inspecting his wounds. He blushes despite himself.

“It’s really fi–”

“Stop. Stop, stop saying it’s fine.” A muscle jumps in Zhan Zheng Xi’s jaw.

Reflexively, Guan Shan narrows his good eye and tries to jerk away from the inspection. Zhan Zheng Xi boxes him in.

“Mo. Please. I lost him. And then He Tian disappears. I can’t just, don’t ask me to think this is fine.”

Oh. oh.

Guan Shan stills and the little butterflies that flit in his stomach any time he’s around Zhan Zheng Xi kick up into a feeling that has him exhaling unsteadily.

Zhan Zheng Xi leans his hands on the counter on either side of Guan Shan and he hangs his head. He stays there for a moment, breathing unevenly. Guan Shan wants to reach out and touch him, comfort him, let him know that he’s really ok.

Zhan Zheng Xi pushes up suddenly and hands Guan Shan a glass of water and an ice pack. “Drink this and hold this on the worst parts of the swelling.

Guan Shan obeys. He lets Zhan Zheng Xi wipe the dried clots of blood from his face and smear more antiseptic on the cuts. He lets him lift off his shirt and tries his best to not reassure Zhan Zheng Xi that it’s really fine. He lets him brush gentle hands over the bruising on his torso. He lets him look into his eyes for a long moment. Lets the frustration seep between them.

“I’m not, I’m not cut out to help with this, Guan Shan. I’m not like him.”

Guan Shan mentally fills in He Tian’s name. No one is like He Tian, a kid who could stitch a wound, fight off a group of grown men, survive a landslide.

“I know you’re not. And guess who’s not here right now. That’s why I’m here, with you.”

The words are a little too raw but they do the trick. Zhan Zheng Xi pulls himself together.

“Let's get you settled in bed.”

“Just let me take the couch, I don’t want to mess up your–” Guan Shan cuts himself off at the stern look that Zhan Zheng Xi gives him. He follows him over to the small bed, taking his ice pack and water. Zhan Zheng Xi is watching him like any moment he might collapse.

The TV is on a pause screen, whatever game Zhan Zheng Xi had been playing when Guan Shan called stopped without hesitation. Guan Shan gingerly lowers himself onto Zhan Zheng Xi’s bed, propping himself up on pillows. The smell of the other man overwhelms him surrounded as he is by his bedding. Zhan Zheng Xi fusses with the blankets before grabbing something from the bathroom.

“Take this.”

Guan Shan takes the pill without protest. It’s not long before a relaxing warmth spreads throughout his body and the pain fades into the background.

Zhan Zheng Xi is applying ice to Guan Shan’s hand and Guan Shan suddenly feels giddy, watching wisps of soft hair fall over Zhan Zheng Xi’s brow.

“I thought you just tolerated me for Jian Yi.” It’s the first time he’s utter the other’s name. It feels wrong somehow.

“You’ve always been nicer than you let on.”

Guan Shan feels like his body is thrumming, levitating, the adrenaline crash and painkillers making everything feel unreal. “You’re more perceptive than you let on.”

“Do you miss He Tian?”

Guan Shan exhales like he’s just taken a punch to the gut. “That fucker. I know he’s alive out there somewhere and he’s just going to fucking show up like nothing happened. And I’ll, I’ll let him.” Guan Shan says the words like he’s been dumbfounded. It’s the first time he’s ever admitted the hold He Tian has on his past. His future. But not his present. Because He Tian isn’t here.

“Xixi, that fucker left without a word and hasn’t been in contact with me since. I don’t care if it was to protect me or because of duty, it was shitty. It is shitty. I’m tired of putting everything on hold for him.” Guan Shan grasps his face with his hands, winces, watches the colors bursting on the backs of his eyelids.

And Zhan Zheng Xi, the practical ass, gently takes Guan Shan’s hands and places the ice back on the right one. Condensation soaks through the sheets and Guan Shan sighs, gives in, snags Zhan Zheng Xi’s face with his left hand. Searches his face. “I remind you of him?”

“Yes.”

Guan Shan snorts “How? Blonde asswhole was actually nice.”

Xixi’s stare is so flat Guan Shan feels lost in it. Anchorless. Like shopping in a new grocery store– everythings in the wrong spot and he’s wandered through the entire building.

“You’re both very bright. He covers himself with happiness. And you do,” he pauses, continues. “Something similar.”

Guan Shan knows what he means. His anger. His sharp looks and resting bitch face. He Tian had seen right through it too. Their memories are all mixed up together and Zhang Zheng Xixi is the only person on this earth that knows what it’s like to have your crush ripped from your life suddenly without a trace. But not dead. Just gone.

It didn’t feel like hanging in indefinite space. It felt like falling. And where was the fucking bottom of this fall? Being around Zhan Zheng Xi felt like setting shoes on stable land. Guan Shan dropped his hand.

“Come on. Turn off the lights and get in bed. Don’t give me the “I’ll take the couch shit”. There’s enough room here and I don’t want to keep you from being comfortable.”

Zhan Zheng Xi moves around the apartment flipping off lights and putting things away like it’s just a normal night and there isn’t a man taking up too much space in his bed with a swollen face and a hand that might need more than tape.

Guan Shan is relieved when he crawls into bed next to him, letting out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. Just don’t do anything. This is just sleeping. Totally normal. Just crashing at a buddy’s house. Think about things that make you tired. Go the fuck to sleep.

All of Guan Shan's efforts are blown out of the water when Zhan Zheng Xi’s leg presses against Guan Shan’s and it’s just south of innocent. The only acceptable solution is to escalate. Not like Guan Shan could ever just leave something be.

So he shuffles into the touch, rolling onto his side and using the movement as an excuse to press more of himself against the other man. The movement also jostles his hand and he sucks in a little breath, waiting for the jolt of pain to subside.

“Your hand.” Zhan Zheng Xi sits up and leans over Guan Shan to look and Guan Shan feels his heart flutter– which is absolutely ridiculous. It’s middle school all over again only confusing for entirely other reasons. “Guan Shan, are you ok?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” It’s not my hand that’s the problem.

“It’s not?”

Shit. Zhan Zheng Xi has an eyebrow cocked and a little smirk on his face. Guan Shan looks away. “Just, lay down.”

Zhan Zheng Xi does, but with an arm wrapped around Guan Shan’s waist. He noses into Guan Shan’s hair, breathing deep.

And it feels so comforting.

Every line of taunt question, curled like the curve of a question mark, relaxes in Guan Shan’s body. “What do we do when they come back?” He whispers it into the dim room, half expecting for some reason for no answer.

“They’re not here. We are.”

---

Notes: And then He Tian and Jian Yi come back and they all make one giant angsty poly family. The end.

I know this is not a normal or even popular pairing. But I saw the potential and just had to go for it! It just sort of flowed out into the word vomit you see here. I don't think I have the timeline perfect, but I'm shooting for when Zhan Zheng Xi has started college right before Jian Yi reappears.

Thanks for your likes, reblogs and comments! They feed my little crushed soul during these strange strange times.

#Canon? Never heard of her #19 days #19 days fanfic #Mo Guan Shan #Guan Shan #zhan zheng xi #Xixi

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gemstoneconstellations · 4 years

Text

What I missed

Summary: Some things aren’t meant to be.

Wordcount: 1800

“Nothing happened.”

You stared at Shouto as he didn’t even glance at the picture, reading his book on the couch. He was so quick to defend himself, you didn't even have a chance to accuse him of anything. You didn't actually think anything had happened between him and his old classmate; your problem was the fact that he’d told you he was working late but he actually went to hang out with his former classmates.

Last night, you were scrolling through some social apps when you saw that Shouto had been tagged in a few photos. The same night he’d cancelled plans with you. Instead, he’d been off having fun with friends, drinking. If he wanted to spend time with friends, all he needed to do was just tell you. Lying about it made it seem like he had something to hide.

But when faced with a picture of him and a tipsy Creati clinging to him, he avoids eye contact and is quick to end the conversation. Nothing happened he says… “With the way you are acting, it sure feels like something did!”

“This is why I didn't tell you,” Shouto huffed, still reading his book. You snatch the book from him and throw it on top of the coffee table. This argument was far from over.

“Excuse me?! You make it sound like I’m some jealous monster! I know you and Creati are really good friends!” You know nothing is going on between them; they have always been close and you’d always been fine with that. You’d never felt threatened, nor doubted Shouto and the kind woman you’d met a few times now.

But Shouto seemed to only take your words as more accusations, his eyes narrowing at you. “Doesn’t mean I would do anything with her.”

“That is not what I'm saying! Stop making it seem like I’m the person in the wrong!” You stood up from the couch, yanking at your hair in frustration. “You do this all the time! I don't understand.”

“I don't need to tell you everywhere I go and what I'm doing all the time.” He continued to avoid the topic, crossing his arms. It always ends with you getting blamed for being controlling. Is it so bad that you just want to be in the loop about what is going on? Is that really too much?!

You are practically screaming now, standing in front of Shouto and hoping he would hear your words for what they are instead of what he perceived them to be. “Oh my god! Are you even listening to anything I’m saying?! You should have just told me what you wanted to do!”

Shouto stood up, his face now red with anger as he yelled back, “I’m listening; you want to take control of everything in my life! I don’t want my life choices to be controlled by anyone ever again.”

Where did it all go wrong? When did it become normal for you two to yell at each other?

You took a few steps back as he moved around, picking up various items and putting them away. Did he really just…does he actually think you are trying to take over his life like that? Like….

“Are you comparing me to your father right now?! This is nothing like that, Shouto!” Your voice trembled as you followed Shouto around the house.

“How?” You flinched as he threw clothes into his hamper.

“You lied to me about going to a party, like it was some big secret that you can’t tell me!”

“Nothing happened.”

“I didn't say anything did! I was never accusing you of cheating! But you keep getting so defensive, it’s making me think something actually did happen!” You were reaching your breaking point. He still wouldn't look at you. You are starting to think that maybe that photo was just the beginning of a long night that Shouto had had with her. “This isn't how a relationship works! You are supposed to talk to each other! Be honest! If you want to do things, just say so instead of lying about it!”

You pull on his shirt to stop him from walking away to do who knows what else and to just talk to you face to face. “You get mad when I tell you things.” Both of you were now yelling, voices getting louder and louder. You are sure your neighbors are going to file a noise complaint or something by the end of tonight.

“Since when?! I get mad because I caught you lying about things you don't need to be lying about! Why would you lie about hanging out with your friends?!”

“Cause you would get mad if I didn't cancel for a good reason!”

“What kind of monster do you think I am that would get mad that you want to hang out with your friends? That’s not a good enough reason to lie! Are you actually cheating on me? Is there someone? Is it Creati, is that why you are so defensive?” There can’t be any other reason forwhy he was telling so many white lies. You can’t possibly imagine what you did to make him think you wouldn't let him see his friends or do things without you. Was it really that hard to just talk to you?

He tried to pull away from you but you just clung harder to him, grabbing his arm. He needs to tell you the truth before you are willing to let go of him. “No! Nothing happened!” Shouto roughly yanked his arms away from you; you felt a push on your side and suddenly, you were falling. You landed on your butt, hard. “Ah, ___, are you alrig—”

Shouto reached down for you, but you quickly got up, ignoring the throb in your ankle and lower back. “I’m done! I can’t do this anymore! If you don't want me in your life that much, then fine, I won’t be!” You run out of his apartment, tears pouring down your cheeks.

“___!”

You don’t look back. If you did, you know you would go back only for it to be brushed under the rug like last time, the issue never resolved.

Todoroki sighed as he gathered his things from his locker, getting ready to go home for the first time in what felt like forever. Right after his argument with you, he’d been called for a mission that took an entire month to complete. He hoped that this was plenty of time for you to cool off so that he could apologize. The time spent alone working, he’d gotten to thinking, realizing that he really had been putting words in your mouth or jumping to conclusions by himself. He was so caught up in trying to make sure his relationship was nothing like his parents’ that it had twisted his views and made everything worse than it actually was.

He turned on his personal cell for the first time all month to call you and ask if he could come over and talk. He was surprised to see you had left him a few voicemails. Shouto listened to them as he began to walk home, but decided to head towards your house when he heard what you had to say.

“Shouto, please answer me…it’s important…I need you…”

He could hear the desperation and strain in your voice. The next messaged played.

“I miss you.”

You were crying so much that he could only understand those three words. He whispered back into his phone that he missed you too as the next message came on.

“Shouto it’s me… we need to talk in person… please call me, please!”

He frowned at his phone; hadn't you heard from his voicemail greeting that he was on a mission? Wait, did he set his voicemail before he went on the mission?

“Why? Why won’t you talk to me?!”

He must have forgotten…. Shouto began to run as he held the phone to his ear.

“Please...anything will do. Tell me you hate me, tell me to never call you again. Anything! Just talk to me.”

He could never! There’s nothing that would make him hate you! He’d been being an idiot.

“I love you Shouto, I still do, even though you don't care about me anymore.”

“___, no I love you,” he panted as you cried into the receiver.

“I can’t… do this, Shouto. I wanted to talk to you in person…. but it's been two weeks! You aren't answering my texts or phone calls. Your agency won’t let me in… but this is important…Shouto, I'm pregnant and I don't know what to do…”

What?

“I know you always wanted to have your own family, one with happiness…I get it now, you just don’t want it with me, do you?”

Of course he wanted to have a family with you! Not exactly right now…but yes, he would. He rushed up the stairs to your apartment, taking two steps at a time as the last message came on.

“Shouto…you don’t have to worry anymore about me. I’m at the doctor’s right now. This will be the last time I’ll call you.You have no reason to contact me anymore, you made it clear that you don't want anything to do with me or this baby… so I won’t have it. I can’t do it alone, I can’t raise your child…I’m not strong enough to do it.” He could hear someone calling your name about seeing the doctor. “Goodbye Shouto.”

You…you didn't. Please, tell him you didn't go through with it. He got to your apartment door and started banging on it, calling your name. “___! ___!” He dug through his duffle bag for his key ring with your spare key. He threw the door open to an empty apartment. All the furniture and decorations were long gone. The apartment smelled like cleaning products. “___?”

“She moved dude. Like a week ago; she just packed her shit and left.” Shouto jumped at the sound of someone from behind him. It was your college-student neighbor.

“What?”

“She’s gone, bro. She didn’t tell you? Harsh man, sorry.” The kid went into his apartment, leaving Shouto alone in the doorway of your empty home. He looked at his phone; there were no more voicemails left. He quickly tried calling you, but none of his calls were going through.

Sorry, the number you dialed is no longer in service—- I’m sorry, the number you dialed—- I’m sorry, the numb—

He hung up his phone and tossed it, crumbling to the ground and cradling his head in his hands.

It had been the final nail in the coffin. It was painfully clear that he’d messed up. Everything was over. It really was…

The End.

#todoroki shouto #todoroki shoto #todoroki shoto x reader #todoroki x reader #todoroki shouto x reader

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danganronpasurvivoraskblog · 4 years

Text

The Plan.

[A day after the sparring match, after Kyoko reunited with Yui]

...

So...is there any particular reason why I’ve been called to this meeting about the case?

Not exactly. But you want to be kept in the know, so I decided this would be better than telling you everything that happened afterwards.

Not only that, but I’m going to be looking over some clues today. Your input would be very valuable.

*The door to Kyoko’s office opens and several people step inside.

Ms Kirigiri. I brought Ms Yamaguchi.

H-Hello detective...I brought the clues...

A-Although...

...

Something wrong?

N-No it’s nothing...I’m just curious as to why you’re here is all...

Trust me lady, I’m the same.

I have a few questions about this case that I need to ask you Mondo.

And me?

You’re here as a witness. If you could add your input on certain clues, then that’d be great.

I’ll do my best...

*Kyoko pulls up a sofa and three chairs. Makoto and Midori sit on the sofa, while Taka, Mondo and Shuichi take the seats. Kyoko herself remains standing.

So, all of you are aware of the case I’m currently investigating. As of this morning, Ms Yamaguchi contacted me saying that she had new information. Is that true?

Y-Yes. I have a collection of murder specifics and forensics results...

Good. Then, let’s get started.

Could someone maybe give Mondo and I a rundown of the case?

About 5 nights ago today, at around 6am, someone called in a body behind the alley of a nightclub called the Mighty Anchor. The officer who rushed to the scene confirmed the death upon arrival. Here’s a picture of the body...

*Midori puts her phone down in the middle of the table, showing the body of Isao.

Guh...I think I just threw up in my mouth a little...

The victims name is Kawaguchi Isao. From what we uncovered, he was a member of the Crazy Diamonds, the biggest biker gang in Japan. If I remember correctly, you used to be the leader of that gang, didn’t you Mr Owada?

Mondo’s fine dude...and yeah I was.

But...I can’t say I know this Kawaguchi guy...he musta’ joined after I got abducted in the killing game...

The body had a few noticeable bruises, but the cause of death is obvious. His head is barely hanging on in this photo...

What could the killer have used to cause a fatal wound like that?

If you ask me, I think something like an axe or a sword would create a gash like that...

I agree...but where does one randomly get an axe?

...

The Fire Axe...

Huh?

When we first visited the Mighty Anchor, and I had a brief look around the club, I noticed something on the wall. It was an emergency Fire Axe, encased in a glass box.

The glass looked pretty clean from what I remember...so maybe it was replaced recently...

So you think someone broke the glass, grabbed the axe, and used it to kill Isao?

But...surely if the glass had been broken, someone, be it Dash the Barista, or the police who investigated the scene, would have noticed by now, wouldn’t they...?

...Actually...I don’t think they would...

Why not?

On the night of Isao’s murder, he and Kizakura got into a fight. I imagine by the time the fight ended, the bar was a wreck.

If the killer broke the glass, grabbed the axe, killed Isao, washed the axe free of blood, and then put it back, they wouldn’t need to replace the glass at all. Anyone who walked in on the scene would immediately assume that the glass had been broken in the fight...

Then they wouldn’t need to replace the glass, because Dash would do it for them when he cleaned up the bar the next day!

Wow...That’s clever!

Good eye Shuichi.

But is there a way we can be sure of that?

If we take the fire axe to some forensics experts and then have them test it for blood, we can confirm it.

That’s not the only thing I noticed either...

What else is there?

Zoom in on the ground around Isao’s body for a second please?

*Midori does so.

I...I don’t see anything...

Exactly.

What are you getting at?

If Isao was murdered in that alley, then wouldn’t there be a considerable amount of blood around his body from where the axe carved open his neck?

But there’s no blood in the picture...I see...So you think he was killed somewhere else and then moved into the alley?

Kizakura told us that when he knocked Isao out, he left him where he was. This backs up his claim, but it doesn’t prove him innocent...

I should also probably tell you that the police GPS searched Isao’s phone, but they couldn’t find anything...

Hm...I see. That might be useful...

How?

Koichi claims that he had been drinking on the night of the murder. The killer wasn’t subtle, but they very clearly tried to cover their tracks. I doubt he could pull something like that off while he’s intoxicated...

Is there anything else?

Yes, there’s one more thing...I recently heard from the police what the prosecutions theory on all this is...

Prosecutor Pierce’s explanation you mean?

You know the prosecutor?

I had the unfortunate circumstance of running into him yesterday. Needless to say, I don’t like him.

I read up on Pierce before...They say he has a 100% win rate in court...

100%? That’s...impressive...

But...isn’t Ms Yamaguchi just a part timer? I think putting a part-time lawyer up against a 100% successful prosecutor may be us having the short straw...

No. There is a chance...

What’s up bro?

Alongside all the information on Pierce, there are many theories on him, particularly around those who don’t like him.

Theories such as what?

They say that Pierce hasn’t been in a single trial where he hasn’t hid the truth or lied in court in order to get his guilty verdict. Unfortunately, such theories can not be proven...

If those theories were to come to light though, it would damage Pierce’s credibility greatly.

True, but the chances of that happening seem slim.

So...what’s Pierce’s angle on the whole thing?

This whole case is being framed by the feud between Eje Karma and Koichi Kizakura...You see...

Wait...what did you just say...!?

Um...! Uh...The feud between Eje Karma and Koichi Kizakura is framing this whole case.

Do you know Eje Karma Mondo?

Yeah, I sure do...but...

But what?

Eje was one of the toughest assholes in the entire gang. He was one of the only people in that gang that I ever lost a brawl to...

And not just me...My older brother Daiya too!

Seriously!?

But...it doesn’t make any damn sense...!

What doesn’t?

A couple months after Daiya’s death and when I took lead of the group, Eje up and bolted, and I never saw his mug again...

He bolted...You mean he left the gang!?

That can’t be...! Eje Karma’s the leader of the Crazy Diamonds now! You mean he left the group before!?

Shit...maybe he came back and took over from me...? Wouldn’t put it past him...

What’s that mean...?

...

To be honest, Eje was the only one of all those gang members who didn’t respect me...

He may not look it, but he’s fucking perceptive. The night Daiya died, he had this aching feeling that I had something to do with it...But when he tried to voice his thoughts, no one believed him...

Mondo...

So...he left...And I ain’t seen him since...

Hm...So you two aren’t exactly friends...

Nah...

I see. Well, no matter. Ms Yamaguchi?

Oh! Yes! L-Like I said, the basis for all assumptions comes from the conflict between Kizakura and Karma. This is how the prosecution thinks it played out.

That night, around 10pm, the former Ultimate Scout, Koichi Kizakura, and the leader of the infamous Crazy Diamonds, Eje Karma, have a heated discussion. After Kizakura took a swing at him, Karma set his boys on the man, and had them drag him into the Mighty Anchor. At that point, Eje abandons the scene and lets his goons do the rest of the dirty work. For the next hour or so, the Biker Gang members in the bar beat the living daylights out of Kizakura. However, at around 11pm, Kawaguchi Isao, a prominent member of the gang with prestige and power, kicks all the other bikers out, saying he wants, leaving himself alone in the bar with Kizakura.

The footage from the security camera match up at this point...

It’s quite possible that Isao underestimated Kizakura. The two of them spent another hour or so in the middle of a fight, but just before midnight, Kizakura was able to get the edge on Isao, and knocked him down. However, according to the prosecution, in a drunk and spiteful rage, Kizakura got violent, and began to give Isao a rightfully deserved beatdown for another whole hour or so. Then, between 1 and 3 in the morning, he got bladed weapon and attacked him with it, carving open his neck and killing him instantly. After doing this, Kizakura grabbed the body and dumped it behind the bar.

In his testimony, Mr Kizakura made a statement. He told me that he defeated Isao around midnight, and then he left and headed for where he believes was the batting cages. But due to the lack of evidence, the claim cannot be backed up, this his alibi is shaky.

...

How about it Kyoko? Where do we stand?

The prosecution has so much at their disposal right now. Our chances of winning this are slim...

But as long as there’s hope, I’m sure we can do this.

Yeah. I believe in your detective skills Ms Kirigiri.

You say that, but you’ve been the one to find out most of the clues so far Shuichi.

Ah...well...

Anyway...That’s the prosecutions look on this whole situation...but what about the defense?

Ms Yamaguchi...? Do you think Mr Kizakura is guilty...?

No, I don’t. I’ll be honest, something about Kizakura rubs me the wrong way, but I don’t think he’s the type of person to kill someone. It’s just a gut feeling I’ve got though...

Sometimes, you’ve got to trust gut feelings. That’s something I’ve learnt from my past experiences.

Thank you Mr Saihara...But now that I think about it, there is a way that we could stand more of a chance...

What’s that?

I know enough about the suspect, but I barely know anything about the victim...My lack of information puts me at a disadvantage in this trial, but if I were to fix that...

Agreed...The primary reason I asked Mondo in today was to get any information I could but...

Mondo already said he didn’t know anyone called Kawaguchi Isao...

But then...how will we get information on the victim?

...

Mondo? What else do you know about Eje that might help me?

W-Well...I can’t say much, but there is one thing that’s weird as fuck about all this?

What’s that?

If there’s one thing I know about Eje, it’s that he’s always looking to be part of the action. If there’s a group fight, he’ll jump in. If there’s a race, he’ll join, and whatever else...

I don’t buy the fact that he just gets punched and lets his boys beat the guy up for him.

So you think there might be more to the story?

I’m saying in any other situation, Eje’d prolly join in...It’s way too weird he just leaves like that...

If what you’re saying is true...then there’s only one way to prove it...

Huh?

W-Wait...Kyoko? You’re not seriously saying that you want to...!?

I want to question Captain Eje Karma. I have to hear what he has to say on the matter...

D-D-Don’t be stupid, that’s a suicidal decision!

No shit! Eje ain’t like me Kyoko. He won’t go easy on you just because you’re a girl!

But without his testimony, we’re as good as done. His relationship with Kizakura, like Ms Yamaguchi said, is framing this whole thing. And yet he hasn’t been questioned yet. I’m going to fix that now...

With all due respect Ms Kirigiri, I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to confront Karma. No doubt he’s in a bad mood after one of his best allies got killed.

Yeah...They’re probably out for blood...

Indeed. We’ll be poking the bees nest that’s for sure...

But...I have a plan...

You do?

*Kyoko goes over to the phone on her desk.

Hello? This is Kyoko Kirigiri, Branch 1.

Is Chihiro Fujisaki there?

#danganronpa survivor #danganronpa #danganronpa 1 #danganronpa v3 #drv3 #dr1 #danganronpa another 2 #midori yamaguchi #sdra2 #makoto naegi #kyoko kirigiri #kiyotaka ishimaru #shuichi saihara #mondo owada #the trial of koichi kizakura arc

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angelofarts · 4 years

Text

Of Crochet and Comas Part 1

I crochet. I do not knit. Knitting is an inferior art form. I crochet. I am complex.

“I am full of it,” I muttered to myself, staring at the words on the screen. The thing is, when your whole personality is this one thing you do and you can’t actually tell people it’s what you do, what do you tell them? Do you play the sympathy card? Do you make something up? Do you ignore the paper in the hopes that it’ll go away, knowing at the last hour you’ll play both the previous cards at the same time to scrape a pass?

Yeah, inevitably I end up on option 3.

I pushed away the laptop, leaving it on the scrunched with the blanket on the end of my bed, half buried under my duvet. No matter how many times Mom comes in and eyes it sadly, or Dad shakes his head at me, I refuse to give it up. That blanket is mine, no one else’s.

“Going to the hospital,” I called to my mom who was in her office as I found a clean t-shirt.

“Is it visiting hours?” she called back as I sniffed the armpit of the shirt. Okay, maybe it wasn’t exactly clean, but it was clean enough for my purposes.

I swung out of my room, scooping my backpack up. “Yeah, they let me in whenever,” I told her as though she didn’t already know this. She looked up at me, her eyes out of focus, and swept her fringe back. Defying the laws of gravity, it immediately sprung back into a frizzy mess.

“Okay, ride safe,” she said vaguely, turning back to her spreadsheet. “Take your phone and your backpack. Get some homework done.”

I nodded, even though I knew she couldn’t see me, and left through the passage leading to the back door. My bike stood there, the patches that weren’t orange rust peeked through with dark grey. An archaeologist had once offered me fifty bucks for it, convinced it outdated several of his finds, but old Raptor was mine until I got my license and could upgrade to the equally crappy and significantly more expensive rusted car sitting in our driveway.

The hospital wasn’t far away, and yet I somehow managed to get flipped off four times, honked at six, and almost hit twice. Regardless of the fact that I was in the right lane, one of the drivers tailed me a block, yelling obscenities. I merrily waved my middle finger back at him until he drove past, obviously deciding some kid on his bike wasn’t worth ruining his afternoon for.

At the hospital, I chained my bike up to the stand in front of the visitor’s entrance and hiked my backpack further up my shoulders. The air conditioning hit me, and I winced – despite cycling here and it being winter, I’d forgotten anything practical for the day like a sweater or hat or scarf, instead standing in my jeans and tee like normal.

“Hey Aaron,” Nurse Nancy called from her station. “Good to see you.”

I felt a goofy grin split over my face. “Nancy my love, how have you been? Keeping our affair a secret, I hope? I’d hate to have to become your sugar daddy when I have no sugar to provide.”

Nurse Nancy, a woman probably old enough to be my grandmother, gave me a good natured chuckle and tsked as she waved me past towards long term residency. I clutched at my chest dramatically as I staggered through the swinging doors.

Entering the ward, I waved at the nurses and some of the residents who were out for the morning. Bert, an old man with a heart condition, was reading in the common area where he first taught me how to cheat at poker. Lizzie, a middle aged woman with some sort of hormone malfunction was next to him, yelling at the politicians on TV. She was the reason I was passing history – the woman was a walking library.

Not a lot of the residents are permanently in long term, since most medicines can be administered at home, but Bert and Lizzie had no one to help them take the meds, so they had been a staple of this wing for the four years I’d been coming in.

Closer to my destination I ran into the younger crowd – teenagers my age who had to come in for a month or so at a time for some or other condition. Lisa I knew had cystic fibrosis and came in whenever she flared up, although you wouldn’t say she was chronically ill from how put together she always looked – long blonde hair always tied back, always in real clothes when the others would spend days in pyjamas. Richard had Crohn’s disease, and you could always tell when he came in from how much weight he’d lost or gained. There were others – diabetics, cancer kids, a whole host of them who somehow had managed to find a society within themselves, one which I, as an outsider, was very much not a part of.

Finally, I reached the last door and propped it open, to the familiar, rhythmic electronic beeps of the heart monitor and the gush of air in and out of the respirator.

“Hey bro,” I whispered softly.

My brother, Kenzo, didn’t reply, not that I expected him to. His chest artificially rose and fell as I softly dropped my backpack to the floor and sat in the visitors chair next to him.

Kenzo was the one who introduced me to crochet, back when we were kids. I, at four, had less than no patience for the wool and stick my mom was trying to show us, but he took to it like a duck to water, and within three weeks we were both going at it. Anything to be like my big brother.

Just a year separated us, but it was a year that made a difference. Kenzo was the model student, the popular sports star who somehow was genuinely nice to everyone. One year he found out who didn’t have Valentines, and anonymously sent fifty crocheted roses to the girls and guys (He’d made me help of course). One year he raised money for charity through selling scarves. He was Mr Perfect, as far as our peers were concerned.

I didn’t have the same sheen on him – bathing together until you’re three does that to a person – but even knowing the crappy stuff he did, like the brief stint of shoplifting before I threatened to turn him in, or the time I caught him and our neighbours smoking pot in the back garden, I couldn’t deny that he was a good brother. Until the day he wasn’t.

Until the day he ended up here, in a coma, because of me.

I bent over to open my backpack. “Here, I made you something. Winter is getting cold, and you need some protection I bet.”

I emerged with a hunter green hat, one I knew would suit his colouring because it suited mine. The green clashed with the dark brown of my hair, bringing some colour into my pale cheeks. I pulled it onto his head carefully and tucked it around his ears the way he used to like it.

“Looks great, bro,” I said softly, leaning back. “How are you still hotter than me though? Hardly seems fair. If you take Nurse Nancy away from me now, I really will have to call mutiny.”

“Nurse Nancy?”

A curious voice had spoken from the door, and I bolted upright, kicking my bag under Kenzo’s bed. At the door stood a girl, about my height, with pale skin and auburn hair, clutching a bag.

“Sorry,” she said immediately. “I didn’t mean to scare you, I only came to drop off this blanket and I didn’t think there would be anyone in here because there’s never anyone here when I come past and when I heard it I stopped because you never know who could be here talking to their family and I don’t want to interrupt but then you mentioned Nurse Nancy and she’s my aunt and she’s married to my Aunt Ellen so I hate to burst your bubble but I think you might need to find a new girlfriend.”

She finally stopped to draw breath, after the most impressive babble I’d ever heard. I waited a beat to make sure she was really done.

“You should offer your lung capacity to Lisa.”

Red began to bloom in her face, spreading from her nose to her cheeks and down her neck. Now that I was paying attention to her clothes, rather than her words, I could see she was dressed in a button up shirt, cardigan, and a pleat skirt. Her shoes (leather brogues) were neatly tied and polished to a shine. Throw in her dark blue lace tights, and I couldn’t help but feel like she was a time traveller from the 1940’s.

She let out a laugh, and to my humiliation, I realized I’d said the last of my thought out loud. It was my turn to flush, although it wasn’t nearly as spectacular as hers.

“Tesha,” she introduced, holding out a hand.

“Aaron,” I replied, taking it and giving it a limp shake.

“Are you Kenzo’s brother?” she asked curiously as she set down the bag she’d had slung over one shoulder, patterned with birds. “I come in here often, but I’ve never seen you here before.”

I nodded. “They gave me free reign since he’s a coma patient, so I’m not usually here in normal visiting hours. Which begs the question – what are you doing here?”

“Christmas in July,” she said cheerfully, pulling out a woollen blanket in deep burnt orange.

“It’s May,” I countered, raising an eyebrow. She rolled her eyes as she set the blanket over Kenzo’s legs.

“Don’t be a buzzkill. Time is meaningless, so presents are eternal.”

I snorted as I fell back in my chair. “I should use that line with my teachers to get extensions.”

She smiled and tucked the blanket down gently. “There you go, Mr Kenzo. Looks just as good as I’d expected.”

If this was a magic story, Kenzo would have woken up then through Tesha’s kind action, or her sheer force of personality and charm. This isn’t though, so naturally I noticed at that moment that the blanket was knitted, and let out a derisive snort.

“What?” Tesha asked defensively, her eyes flashing slightly.

“Nothing,” I said quickly. “It’s just that Kenzo doesn’t like knitted stuff, especially not machine knit. But I’m sure it’s a nice blanket, really.”

Her mouth started to pinch. “This,” she said very clearly, “was not machine knit. This was hand knit, by yours truly, and you are a snob and not very nice. I’m leaving now.”

With that, she swirled around and left with a little “hmph.”

I got up to chase after her, not sure if I was going to apologize to her or further mock the institution of knitting. When I got to the corridor though, I saw that she’d disappeared, no doubt to engulf someone else in her snobbish, “superior” items.

“Whatever,” I muttered to myself, turning towards the bathrooms.

On the way there, I ran into Richard, who uncharacteristically stopped to talk to me.

“Dude, did you do something to piss off Tesha?”

My face flushed again as I quelled the urge to push past the dark teen in front of me. He had a disease, he was basically skin and bones, he had no contribution towards me sticking my foot in my mouth…

“No,” I snapped. “She’s being a snob.”

Okay, so much for being nice to sick kids. I try to be nice to the teenagers here, knowing that if circumstances had been different it was very likely that I would be one of them, but it was difficult when none of them usually acknowledged my existence. Between their cold shoulders and the tip toeing I got at school, I was getting rusty with appropriate social interactions.

Richard snorted loudly. “Yeah, right.”

“What’s that suppose to mean?”

He shifted in his wheelchair, and his jersey slipped down one bony shoulder. “Tesha is a saint. No way she started it.”

“Were you there?” I demanded, pushing into the bathroom. It was mean of me, but I let the door swing closed before he could follow, knowing it was near impossible for him to enter.

When I emerged, unfortunately he was still there, but now talking to Lisa. I snuck past them and back to Kenzo’s room to wait out my time in the peace of my brother.

#writing #spilled ink #writing about crafts #of crochet and comas #pandemic writing #its just for fun #please dont judge me

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beneaththetangles · 4 years

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BtT Light Novel Club, Chapter 16: Bottom-Tier Character Tomozaki, Vol. 1!

Welcome to the first Light Novel Club discussion of 2020! Our discussion this month is on Bottom-Tier Character Tomozaki, Vol. 1, in which a gamer dares to take on the “game” of real life. We have quite the discussion for this title coming up, so strap yourself in and join @jeskaiangel and I for a deep dive not just into the story, but also what even is a “game” in the first place!

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1. What are your general impressions of the novel?

Jeskai Angel: My impression of the novel = Video games + Proverbs / Ecclesiastes + My Youth Romantic Comedy Is Wrong as I Expected + Self-help booklet + Optimism.

stardf29: I’ve got nothing to add; you did the math on that perfectly.

2. What are your thoughts on the characters in the novel?

Jeskai Angel: As I observed Tomozaki, I strongly had the sense that I was watching an alternative version of Hachiman Hikigaya from a parallel universe. His opening monologue sounds every bit as cynical, jaded, and bitter as something Hiki would say. But, crucially, Hiki is actively resistant to changing and finds a sense of moral superiority in not “conforming.” Hiki’s story kicks off because his teacher tries to help him change for better, but (at least as of vol. 1) he begrudges this meddling in his life and resists every step of the way. The two parallel universes diverge because when NO NAME / Aoi also offers Tomozaki the chance to change, he willingly (albeit skeptically) embraces the opportunity. That difference lends the whole story a far more hopeful, optimistic tone than My Youth Romantic Comedy.

I could spend more time contrasting the other characters of this LN and My Youth Romantic Comedy Is Wrong as I Expected, but I’ll spare you. Suffice it to say that I think the girls of both stories bear further comparison.

Aoi is an interesting twist on the “perfect girl” trope. First, one doesn’t commonly see that sort of character AND have them be an unapologetic hardcore gamer (you sometimes see the “perfect girl who’s secretly an otaku” figure, but not one like Aoi who displays no sense of shame about her nerdy hobby). The other thing that subverts the “perfect girl” trope is that we learn quickly that Aoi wasn’t always “perfect” and in fact works incredibly hard to maintain her sterling image. She’s not just magically perfect thanks to inherent natural awesomeness. I feel like the rest of the cast is well written, but they don’t necessarily stand out in any exceptional way. Hopefully they’ll get more chances to shine in the future.

stardf29: That’s a good compare and contrast between Tomozaki and Hachiman. Hachiman’s constant cynicism and the commentary that comes from that is entertaining in its own way, but as a character, I really like how Tomozaki actually tries to make more of real life, and he gets some cool moments out of it, such as when he stands up for Nakamura when other girls start trash-talking him. Oh, and he’s a gamer, too, which I guess earns him some extra cool points for me.

I definitely appreciate Aoi having had to work hard to become the “perfect girl”, for the reason you mentioned. What I also like about that aspect is that it has shades of the “secret of the popular girl” trope where the guy finds out the popular girl’s secret and they grow closer because of it, which I often enjoy.

The other side characters definitely interested me a lot. While they might not have a lot of development yet at just one volume in, they do have very strong base characterizations with their own motivations and don’t feel like one-dimensional tropes; I’m definitely looking forward to what role they play in future volumes.

3. What do you think about the various gaming references and the use of video games in the story?

Jeskai Angel: Am I right in thinking that Atafami is a coded reference to the Super Smash Bros. series? Between the name and some of the characters mentioned, I had a distinct suspicion that the story was making a nod toward a very specific real-life game/series. The rest of the gaming references that I recall were all more general nods to various tropes and common features of video games, things common enough that they didn’t require knowledge of any particular game to understand. I enjoyed the references and use of gaming concepts as metaphors for real life.

stardf29: Yes, Atafami is pretty clearly a mock-up of Smash Bros. (“Smash Brothers -> Attack Families”), with their own versions of Fox (“Foxy”) and Sheik (“Found”; this one took a while to figure out, but it’s pretty clever; “Sheik” sounds like “Seek”, especially with Japanese pronunciation, so you have “Seek” -> “Found”).

The whole thing is pretty amusing since I have some vague familiarity with the competitive Smash scene (though I’m not a competitive Smash player myself), so a lot of the portrayals of the whole gaming aspect of the story are just that much more interesting to me.

4. What do you think about the various “life tips” in the story?

Jeskai Angel: Ooh, yes! I have mixed feelings about the life tips. On the one hand, I think there’s some real truth to Aoi’s advice. I sort of wish someone had given me some of this advice back when I was in high school (of course, I was such a trainwreck at that point in my life that Aoi’s coaching wouldn’t have been nearly enough to help me).

On the other hand, sometimes Aoi’s view feels a little too much like self-made man-pull yourself up by your own bootstraps-rugged individualism. It paints this overly positive picture of how if you just work hard, your life will be great and everything will work out well. That’s how I used to think life worked (thanks, American culture), but then life proved me wrong. I think Tomozaki has a legitimate point when he says that life doesn’t always have a right answer, that trying hard doesn’t guarantee the desired outcome, and that some people have massive, unearned advantages over others. No matter how long and how hard you try, there’s no promise that you’ll get what you want out of life. Maybe Aoi’s perspective doesn’t go quite that far, but it treads close at times.

This tension, where each of the two leads has some valid points, is where my reference to Proverbs and Ecclesiastes above fits in. The book of Proverbs paints an extremely optimistic view of life: if you live according to wisdom, things will be great. And to be clear, it’s not entirely wrong. But then Ecclesiastes comes along and says not so fast: no matter how wise / rich / strong / whatever you are, bad things may still befall you. If nothing else, we’re all gonna die no matter what we do. I suspect that Ecclesiastes sometimes presents an unduly cynical outlook on life, and that things aren’t necessarily quite as bad as you might think if you only read Ecclesiastes. But Ecclesiastes also has a valid point that life isn’t as easy as you might think if you only read Proverbs.

stardf29: You bring up something that one could make an entire dissertation on: the conflict between “do everything you can to improve things” and “there are some things in life we cannot control”. Ideally, these two ideas would work together: we take action where we can, while giving the things we cannot control up to God. Unfortunately, it’s all too easy to lean too much into one direction or the other. Tomozaki’s initial stance is too much into “there’s too much I cannot control”, and he includes stuff he does actually have control over to improve his life. Aoi, on the flip side, is perhaps trying to take control over too much. I think it’s pretty telling how, in the final confrontation, she’s ultimately not able to do anything when things take an unexpected turn until well after the fact.

Overall, while I liked a lot of Aoi’s tips, I do have one notable gripe. The whole thing about getting Tomozaki a girlfriend is a bit weird but ultimately, not too bad. However, when she tried to get him to ask Fuka out over their supposed shared interest in a particular author, despite Tomozaki lying about said interest, that definitely rubbed me the wrong way. It felt like Aoi was telling him to do whatever it takes to “win” the game, even if it means lying and deceiving others. I’m glad he ultimately chose not to listen to her and tell the truth to Fuka, and it seems like they still have the chance for some development later.

Jeskai Angel: I had forgotten about the whole “lie about liking this book to get a girlfriend” incident until you brought it up. Yeah, I really appreciated that Tomozaki averted tons of rom-com tropes by taking the first opportunity to correct the misunderstanding, instead of creating an extended series of painfully awkward situations where he struggles to maintain the lie. I wonder…Aoi generally comes across in a fairly favorable light, but does this case hint at a darker side to her character?

You also make a really interesting point in framing the climactic defense-of-Nakamura scene in terms of Aoi being unable to do anything when the situation gets out of hand. It does seem to speak to her limitations.

stardf29: “Darker side” perhaps, but to the extent that every realistic person has some sinful tendencies to her; in her case, it’s a willingness to fudge the truth in order to do what she wants to get done. (If I may say, she seems to be very much a Type 3 on the Enneagram.)

Tomozaki laughs at your “Foxy only” rule.

5. How much do you agree with the idea that “life is a game”?

Jeskai Angel: So, Tomozaki and Aoi both accept from the outset that life is a game. They don’t debate whether life is a game, but rather whether it’s a good one or a bad one. Consequently, the book skips over a crucial question: what exactly is a “game?” It’s hard to say for sure whether life is a game, or how good of a game it is, if we don’t know what we mean when we say “game.” Certainly I can see validity to a lot of the book’s metaphors. There really are times when there are substantive parallels between real life and video games. But does the fact that life and games are sometimes similar justify going all the way to the point of saying life actually is a game in any meaningful sense? I’m not so sure. My gut says no. However, I would offer the caveat that I can imagine it’s possible to come up with a coherent definition of “game” for which real life would qualify.

stardf29: Oh boy, the “what is a game” question is another one that you could make a whole research paper on.

Maybe a game like Smash Bros isn’t the best metaphor for life… but what about a game like Animal Crossing or Harvest Moon? Those are games that break somewhat from the usual definition of a game, while still being classified as a game, and it’s a bit easier to see parallels with real life with those games.

But the key question here really does seem to be: What exactly is a “game”? Again, I could dive really deep into this topic, but for a basic definition, I like to think of games in four parts: player input, the “programming” which take those inputs and create results, the goals that players try to achieve, and the rules which are known to the players and help them make choices on their inputs. A game, therefore, is a situation where, given certain known rules, you decide on a goal or goals to achieve, and then make inputs and see what results the programming gives back; based on those results, you may either continue on with making inputs, or change one or more of your goals; you can even create a “game within a game” by setting a smaller goal and trying to achieve that goal first before returning back to your original goal.

For example, in, say, Super Mario Bros., your overarching goal is to reach the end and rescue the princess, which requires you to complete several sub-goals of completing the individual levels. Within the game, you are aware of the various rules of the game (move right, don’t touch enemies or fall into pits, collect power-ups for help) and then you start making your inputs to get Mario to the end.

Given this fairly wide-encompassing definition of a “game”, I think it’s possible to classify real life as a game. You have rules that are known and more or less govern what you can and cannot do (things like laws), and from there you decide on goals you want to accomplish, and then you make your “inputs” (a.k.a. personal choices) and then see what results come from the “programming” and adjust further goals/inputs accordingly. The only real difference here is that the “programming” is far more complex than what computers are (currently) limited to. That said, it’s not like there’s no “programming” whatsoever, since things like scientific laws exist. (The inputs of fellow humans may complicate things but lots of multiplayer games have that, so…)

In that sense, I can see how Aoi approaches the “game” of life. She tries to understand the rules as much as she cans, she has certain goals she wants to achieve, and she starts making “inputs” towards those goals. And as she starts accomplishing those goals, she gets the enjoyment of “winning” at the game (or at least that goal). If my approach to life differs from hers, it largely lies in having different goals from her to start with.

Now that I think about it, there is an important “fifth” part of a game: the positive feelings that come from “winning” the game, or rather, accomplishing goals within that game. It’s why we play games, after all. The exact nature of those “positive feelings” can vary depending on your goals, from the feeling of empowerment and domination after defeating a human opponent, to the sense of pride and accomplishment from getting 100% completion, to the satisfaction of the ending of a good story. And in real life, there’s definitely a good feeling from putting in effort, getting results, and fulfilling goals.

Jeskai Angel: I remembered this interesting column by game designer Mark Rosewater (https://magic.wizards.com/en/articles/archive/making-magic/what-game-2018-06-04). He defines a game as “a thing with a goal (or goals), restrictions, agency, and a lack of real-world relevance.” Your definition and his agree about the importance of input / agency, rules / restrictions, and goals (whether invented by the player or established by the designer). But you differ regarding the lack of real-world relevance. MaRo holds that having the purpose of entertainment or education, as opposed to practical necessity, is a fundamental part of what distinguishes games from real life.

stardf29: That’s a great article overall, and if I combine “rules” and “mechanics” into “limitations” I would mostly agree with it… but I definitely disagree about games needing to be “separate” from real life. It feels like a meaningless distinction; if I want to make a game out of cleaning my apartment or something, I don’t see how the real-life application somehow makes it not a game.

Instead, I would replace that “lack of real-life relevancy” with that last element I mentioned: the explicit pursuit of the positive feelings that come from achieving the goals. The reason most people don’t, to use the example in the article, consider packing for a trip as a “game” is that they simply have no desire to experience the pleasure of figuring out how to optimize packing; they just want to get the job done. However, someone might decide that, yes, they’re going to figure out the optimal arrangement for their packing, and then, after getting everything into the optimal arrangement, relish in the rush of having solved the puzzle.

In a way, then, what makes something a “game” is, in part, mentally thinking of it as a game–that a game is whatever you want to be a game (as long as goals, restrictions, and agency are also in play). And this is likely what helped Aoi be so successful: she chose to view several parts of life as “games” where others just saw it as “just life”. And Tomozaki has now adapted that mindset too. Now, I do think there are times where it’s best not to think of real life as a “game”; the example of a pilot flying a real plane is probably one of those times. (Though if the threat of death makes something not a game, I guess the Aincrad part of Sword Art Online isn’t a game…) That said, there may very well be several times in real life when thinking of something as a game may be just what gives someone that motivational kick to get something done, so… perhaps, at the very least, it’s worth consideration.

Jeskai Angel: Hmm… It occurs to me that babies and children learn through play. It seems that God has hardwired us to learn about the world through play-type behavior. And if play is fundamental to us from the earliest stages of development, perhaps the idea of life as a whole being a game has more validity than I’m giving it credit for.

Final Thoughts

Jeskai Angel: In the opening monologue, Tomozaki says this:

“Since ancient times, tons of brilliant scientists have been conducting experiments to search for a Law of Everything that explains the rules of our world. They still haven’t found it. Since ancient times, tons of brilliant philosophers have been wrapping ideas up in logic trying to figure out the meaning of life—in other words, life’s concept.”

This is where I’d raise my hand and say that Christianity has an answer to this question. The “Law of Everything,” the basis of all the rules in our world, the source that connects everything else, is Jesus. That’s what John 1.1 is getting at when it describes Jesus as the Logos. All the rules are established and upheld by him. And of course life’s “concept” is to know and love God.

Jeskai Angel: On a couple of occasions, one character criticizes another (first Tomozaki to Nakamura, then Aoi to Tomozaki) for dismissing a pleasure they’d never experienced as boring or meaningless. This is really quite profound. It was super relatable when Aoi calls out Tomozaki on this, because I have done the same thing. I can easily come up with examples from my own life where, because I didn’t have opportunity to enjoy something, I tried to convince myself that it wasn’t really all that great anyway, that I didn’t really want or need it, and so it was fine if I didn’t have it. At least in some of these cases, I’ve realized later that maybe that thing was more valuable than I’d been willing to admit while I was coping by lying to myself. The story was a good reminder about the need to be honest with ourselves.

stardf29: Yep, that’s the good ol’ sour grapes fable (the fox who can’t reach the grapes decides they must be sour). And yes, it’s best to be honest with yourself, or at the very least, don’t put down others who do have things/experiences you don’t have.

Jeskai Angel: Looking back, I realized it’s kind of cool the way the story building up Aoi to be so amazing actually serves to increase my respect for Tomozaki as a gamer. Here’s this girl who, much like Mary Poppins, is practically perfect in every way. Whether in beauty or academics or athleticism or popularity or whatever, she is unsurpassed thanks to her combination of talent and incredible hard work. And then you tell me that in one respect, she gets totally outclassed by someone else, despite putting forth the same hard work at Atafami as she did to reach the pinnacle in every other area of life. And it really starts to sink in just how insanely skilled Tomozaki must be to be able to capable of trouncing her as he does.

stardf29: Honestly, having seen how insane top-tier Smash Bros. play is, I’m more impressed with Aoi being able to even basically become the second-best player in Japan in the first place, especially with everything else she’s doing for real life as well. They do go a bit into how she does it (she purposely gets into disadvantageous situations to learn how to get out of them, sacrificing her immediate win-rate for long-term improvement), but even then, getting to the top ranks is no easy feat and it shows how dedicated she really is. And, of course, Tomozaki himself is impressive for being able to beat her regardless, though I guess since I’m familiar with top-tier Smash players, it’s pretty easy to picture how good he is (or at least as easy as looking up some YouTube videos).

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What do you think about Bottom-Tier Character Tomozaki, Vol. 1? What do you think counts as a “game”? Share your opinion in the comments!

As a reminder, on February 21st, we will be covering Vol. 3 of Infinite Dendrogram, so if you plan on joining us for that and haven’t finished it yet, get to reading!

#Light Novels #Bottom Tier Character Tomozaki #Jaku Chara Tomozaki kun #Christianity #BtT Light Novel Club #Articles #Author: stardf29 #Author: JeskaiAngel

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bamby0304 · 5 years

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The Hart III: Secrets

Chapter Thirteen: Bear Care

Series Masterlist

Summary: Three months… Dean was gone for three months and now he’s back. He’s back and he truly has no idea how much things have changed. Life moved on while Dean was in Hell, and now things are complicated. With new faces and troubles right around the corner, will the trio find a way to come back together? Or has all hope been lost?

A/N: Filler chapter, sorry guys! Just loved the giant teddy bear too much to skip it :P

Warnings: Angst. Nothing much, though...

SPOV

"It just doesn't make any sense, Dean. I mean, why would Uriel tell me you remembered Hell if you didn't?"

"Maybe because he's a dick. Might have something to do with it."

The two of us sat at a table in a bar, eating some food- Dean downing some shots. It had been a couple of weeks since Halloween. Since Samhain. Since Lizzie had left us. Since I met the angels. Since Uriel suggested Dean was keeping things from me. Two weeks since I'd asked my brother, and yet he still hadn't told me the truth.

I didn't care how many times he told me he knew nothing, I could see he was lying. I could see it in the way he drank more and slept less. Things were wrong, and only now did I realise it was because of whatever happened down there.

"Maybe, but he's still an angel," I noted.

"Yeah, an angel who was ready to level an entire town. Look, I don't know what-" Dean cut himself off as our waiter came over to our table.

"Radical." The waiter smiled widely, abnormally happy and cheerful as he looked down at us. "What else can I get you guys?"

"Uh, I think we're good," I assured him.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

But still, he didn't leave. Instead he stayed exactly where he was, still smiling. "You want to try a couple of fryer bombs? Or a chipotle chili changa?"

"No, no, we're- we're still good," Dean insisted.

"Okay, awesome." Smile never fading or wavering, the guy left, taking his flashing badges attached to his uniform with him.

Once he was gone, Dean went on. "Sam, honestly, I have no idea why Uriel told you what he did, okay?" He downed another shot.

Giving a short nod, I looked down at the shot glass as he put it down next to the other empty glasses. "Right."

"What?"

"Okay. Fine. Then look me in the eye and tell me you don't remember a thing from your time down under."

It took a moment, but after a second or two, he did exactly that. "I don't remember a thing from my time down under." He must have been able to tell I didn't believe him, because before I could say anything he got defensive. "I don't remember, Sam!"

"Look, Dean, I just want to help."

"You know everything I do. Okay? That's all there is."

The waiter came back then. "Outstanding. Dessert time? Huh? Am I right?"

Dean sighed, looking up at him. "Dude."

"Listen, bros. You have got to try our ice cream extreme. It's extreme."

"Uh, no extremities, please. Just the-"

The waiter cut me off, "Check? All right, awesome." Puling our check from his pad, he placed it on the table, still smiling like he had been since we'd arrived.

I offered him a forced smile that was nowhere near as cheerful as his. "Thanks."

Once again, the moment the waiter was gone, Dean spoke up, "All right, so, where do we go from here?"

"I'm not sure." Reaching over for my laptop, I opened it up to look through some stories I'd found earlier. "Uh, looks like it's been pretty quiet lately. No signs of demon activity, no omens or portents I can see."

"That's good news for once."

"Yeah, just the typical smattering of crank UFO sightings and one possible vengeful spirit. Here, check this out." I turned the computer to him- which he didn't even glance at as he grabbed his beer. "Uh... up in Concrete, Washington, eyewitness reports of a ghost that's been haunting the showers of a women's health facility." Dean choked on his beer and started to pack up as I went on. "The victim claims that the ghost threw her down a flight of stairs. I can see you're very interested," I noted, seeing that he was ready to go.

"Women, showers. We got to save these people." Getting up, he threw some money on the table and started to leave.

I didn't get up right away though. Instead I took a moment to pull my phone out of my pocket and check it quickly. It had been a few days since I'd sent Lizzie a message, and I still hadn't heard back from her. We had no idea where she was, and even though Dean wouldn't admit it, I knew he was just as worried as I was.

EPOV

Lying on my back, looking up at the roof, I let out a long sigh.

"You okay, babe?" Tristan asked as he walked out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around his waist as he used another to dry his hair.

I couldn't stop myself from smiling at the sight of him. I had no idea how I was so lucky. He was like no other guy I'd met. Especially like no other hunter. If anything, I would have pegged him as a model more than anything.

Styled, thick, honey hair that no matter what he did with it, it always looked good. With stubble covering his jaw, and deep brown eyes I could fall into forever. A body even I was jealous of, with abs and lean muscles in all the right places. No marks or scars. He was practically a walking Ken doll, perfect for any Barbie girl, yet he was all mine.

Looking over at me, he gave a light chuckle as the corner of his lips pulled up slightly. "Babe? You okay?"

"Do you have to go?"

After spending the last two weeks in this room, surviving on room service and each other, Tristan had received a call from a friend, asking for help. A friend who was all the way up in Canada.

I wanted to go with him, of course, and he wanted me to go as well. But there was no way I could just pack up and leave the country. Not when I wasn't sure if everything here would be okay. Leaving Bobby, Ellen, Jo and the Winchesters like that... it would be selfish and wrong of me.

Speaking of which... after they hadn't heard from me for a few days, Dean and Sam had got in contact with Ellen, Jo and Bobby in the hopes that they might know where I was. That's when I started to get bombarded by messages from all of them. They were all worried sick.

To ease their minds, I'd sent a message out to everyone assuring them that I was okay and just needed some time. I had a feeling the brothers would keep the details of Halloween to themselves, but I still felt the need to make sure everyone knew I was safe and sound with Tristan.

For the two weeks, he'd helped calm me down. I'd told him everything that happened with Samhain. When he hadn't completely freaked, I'd been shocked. Any other hunter probably would have killed me, but instead he'd been nothing but supportive and reassuring. He could see how scared and anxious I was, and decided that there was nothing more important than being there for me at that moment.

It's one of the reasons why him leaving wasn't exactly making me smile.

"Look," he came over to sit on the bed next to me, "you and I both know that spending another week here would be like heaven to me. But my friend needs help, and we really should get some fresh air. So, here's what we're gonna do. You are going to call your friends. You're gonna make sure everyone is okay and let them know you are, too. Then you're gonna see if any of them need help with a case. You'll keep yourself busy, stress less about everything, and wait for me to come back. Okay?" he finished as he grabbed one of my pills and some water from my night stand, and handed them to me.

Sitting up, I offered a reluctant nod as I let him put the pill on my tongue and then bring the cup to my lips so I could swallow. His eyes stayed on mine the whole time, and I couldn't help but wonder how I was supposed to deal without him for however long he'd be gone.

SPOV

I sat in Lucky Chin's Chinese Restaurant, at a table with Candace Armstrong. She was the woman the ghost apparently pushed down some stairs at the woman's health facility. A brace cradled her injured arm as she sat there telling me her story.

"I'm not surprised the spirit world chose to make contact with me. I'm something of a... natural sensitive."

"I can sense that about you, Candace, that whole... sensitive thing." It was a lie. I couldn't sense anything, really. I just wanted her to tell me what I needed to know.

"So, what did you say you're calling your book?"

"Oh, well, um... Well, the working title is... 'Supernatural'." Once again, a lie. But it was a backstory for the case, and the first thing I came up with. "Yeah, I've been crossing the country, gathering stories like yours. But, anyways, you were telling me about your encounter."

"Yes. Well..." she sighed, "once I saw the apparition, that's when I started to run."

I'd been just about to respond when my attention was pulled to a couple at another table. They were an unlikely couple, him being a nerdy looking guy while she appeared to be the type of girl to go for Dean and not him. But as they sat there, holding hands, I could tell they were in love. Very in love.

Clearing my throat, I turned to Candace again. "And you said the ghost chased you?"

"Not just that. It knew my name. It kept yelling, 'Mrs Armstrong! Mrs Armstrong!' And that's when I hit the stairs and fell."

"You fell?" I frowned. That didn't go with the story she gave for the report I found online. "The ghost didn't push you?"

"Oh, I don't- I don't know. I mean, I think it did. Maybe."

"Did you feel like it meant to hurt you, like it was violent, or-"

She cut me off suddenly, "It was a ghost. I'm lucky to be alive. Anyway, I was at the bottom of the stairs, and that's when it got weird." Chuckling lightly, she leaned forward, getting a little closer as she added, "It helped me up."

"Say again?"

"Yeah. It helped me up. And it kept saying over and over, 'Please, don't tell my mum'."

"Yeah, that's weird." Really weird...

...

I found Dean sitting on the steps of the porch outside the woman's Fitness Center, reading a newspaper.

"Well, you pick up anything?" I asked as I reached him.

Folding the paper up, he stood and walked down the stairs. "No EMF in the shower or anywhere else. This house is clean."

"Yeah. I'm not surprised. I kind of got the feeling back there that crazy pushed Mrs Armstrong down the stairs," I noted as we started walking.

"I got to tell you, I'm pretty disappointed."

"You wanted to save naked women."

He gave a short nod. "Damn right I wanted to save some naked women."

Chuckling lightly, I shook my head in amusement as we reached the path, only to be cut off as a kid ran past us, running away from three other kids who were close behind him.

"Come on, guys, get him!" one of the kids yelled.

"I got him! I got him!" another added.

Dean and I watched them dash past as Dean called out, "Run, Forrest, run!"

With the kids now gone, I turned to my brother, not seeing any point in hanging around town if there was no case. "Sorry, Dean, but I don't think anything's going on around here."

As if right on time, we overheard two men arguing. One was a cop while the other looked like a simple civilian. But the civilian was clearly upset about something.

"How the hell was I supposed to get a look at it? It grabbed me from behind and threw me into a tree!"

"Yeah, okay, Gus. I understand you got shook up. Anyone would be. But don't you think it- Don't you think it had to be a bear?" the cop asked, trying to reason with Gus- the civilian- clearly not believing him.

"I know a damn bear track when I see one!" Gus insisted. "This thing didn't leave bear tracks! Its feet were huge!"

"Now, Gus-"

"It was Bigfoot, Hal. The Bigfoot!"

Bigfoot?

"Gus, you're not talking sense here."

"There's a Bigfoot out there, damn it, and he's a son of a bitch!"

Walking over to the two men, Dean and I pulled out our badges as I cleared my throat, catching their attention. "Excuse us. FBI."

The cop looked genuinely confused and shocked. "What?"

"Yes, sir. We're here about the..." I nodded to Gus. "That."

"About Bigfoot?"

"That's right." Turning to Gus I asked, "Sir, can you tell me exactly where this happened?"

Straightening up, arms folded over his chest, Gus gave a firm nod. "Yes, I can."

DPOV

Gus had directed us down a path and into the woods. Both Sam and I weren't exactly sure what we might be walking into, but whatever it was, it was clear it was weird. Nothing about this case had been normal so far.

"What the hell's going on in this town? First there's a ghost that's not real, and now a Bigfoot sighting?"

Sam shrugged, hands in his pockets as he walked beside me. "Well, every hunter worth his salt knows Bigfoot's a hoax."

"Well, maybe somebody's pumping LSD into the town water supply," I joked right before we both came to a stop as we looked down at what was clearly a huge track on the ground... I just had no idea where it might have come from. "Okay. What do you suppose made that?"

Sam though about it for a moment, but all he came up with was, "That, uh... is a big foot."

...

We'd followed the tracks to a path that lead us over a bridge and to a store. Whatever had made the tracks, left prints up to the store's back door- which had been ripped off its hinges- and then inside. Walking in, we found the place a mess. Especially the liquor section. There was broken glass all over the floor, and a lot of missing bottles that weren't scattered all over the place.

"So, what, Bigfoot breaks into a liquor store, jonesing for some hooch?" I crouched down to read the labels of the broken bottles. "Amaretto and Irish cream. He's a girl-drink drunk." As Sam moved on, I reached over and grabbed myself a bottle of something, stashing it in my jacket.

"Hey. Check this out," Sam called me over.

I moved towards him, coming to stand by the porn magazine rack... which was practically empty. "He took the whole porno rack? Well, I'll say it again. What the hell is going on in this town?"

EPOV

Jo and I sat on the hood of the truck she'd arrived in, looking up at the sky, just talking away. The moment I'd sent her a message to let her know I was okay, she'd told me to meet her at this park close to Bobby's that we used to hang around years ago. We'd been here a while now, just catching up like the good old times.

It was nice, hanging out with her like this. Since that first and only case we did together, we didn't really see each other that much. But before, we saw each other almost every week. The distance didn't change how I felt about her though. She was still like a sister to me. Just like Ellen was like a mum to me. Things were just... different now.

"You know what your mum's been doing lately?"

"Hunting," Jo answered without having to think about it. "Sometimes we hunt together, but a lot of the times she goes off and does her own thing like I do."

A small smile played on my lips as I turned to look at her. "Three years ago, would you have thought this is how we'd end up?"

"No," she laughed, shaking her head. "No way did I think I'd been hunting. Especially not with my mum. I actually thought, if there was anyone I'd hunt with, it would be with you. Best hunter I know."

I scoffed. "Please. Bobby taught me everything I know. The Winchesters are the strongest people I know. Your mum is the toughest woman in the history of the human race. Oh, and you know... you're not too bad yourself," I teased.

"Ha. Ha. Ha." She rolled her eyes, looking up at the sky again. "What about you? Did you ever think you'd be where you are?"

"Did I ever think I'd be in a relationship, hunting with the Winchesters, and fighting to stop the apocalypse? Hm, let me think about that..." I gave it a moment as I pretended to think before answering, "Nope."

"Admit it." She turned her head to look at me. "Hunting with the Winchesters... you love it."

I shrugged. "It's not bad."

"Oh, come on Lizzie." She sat up and turned to me a little more. "You love it. If you didn't, you would have come back to mum and me years ago. Or you would have moved back in with Bobby."

"Okay, yeah. I love it. Because I'm hunting. It's got nothing to do with the guys."

"That's bull, and you know it. Whenever we talk, you're always going on about the brothers. Sam's practically replaced me. And Dean?" She gave me a knowing look. "None of us are blind. We all know there's something going on between the two of you."

"Um, excuse me… I'm in a relationship," I reminded her. "There's nothing going on between me and anyone other than Tristan."

Rolling her eyes, she moved back so she was lying down again. "If that was the case, you wouldn't hunt with the brothers anymore. Tristan wouldn't have left you here. And you would have introduced him to everyone by now."

I didn't care what Jo said. I was one hundred percent sure about Tristan. I loved him and he loved me. I really did. He helped through losing Dean. He'd saved my life a bunch of times and I'd saved his. He meant a lot to me.

DPOV

Sitting on a bench outside the store, Sam and I tried to think over what we might be dealing with. But try as we might, nothing seemed to add up. I could honestly say I've never had a case this absurd before, and that was saying a lot.

Shaking my head, I let out a frustrated sight. "I got nothing."

"It's got to be a joke, right? Some big-ass mother in a gorilla suit?"

"Or it's a Bigfoot. You know, and he's some kind of an alcohol-porno addict. Kind of like a deep-woods Duchovny," I chuckled lightly to myself.

Just then, a little girl on a bike appeared, coming down the path, headed towards the store. She didn't even glance at Sam and I as she rode past. But as she did, the wind picked up, blowing a magazine out of the carrier that say behind her.

She disappeared around the corner as Sam and I stood to grab the magazine. Strange thing is... it was a porno.

"A little young for busty Asian beauties," I noted.

Sneaking over to the corner, Sam and I looked around to see the little girl leave a box of things by the stairs that lead to the broken door, before she grabbed her bike and started to walk to the bridge and into the woods, Sam and I right behind her.

...

I pulled the car up in front of a house where the little girl's bike sat out the front. Sam and I got out and headed up the path, looking to the normal, everyday suburban home that stood before us.

"What's this, like a 'Harry and the Hendersons' deal?" I asked as we walked up the stairs to know on the door.

A moment later, the door opened as the little girl looked up at us. "Hello?"

"Hello!" Sam smiled down at her. "Um, could we... You know what? Are your parents home?"

"Nope."

"No," Sam sighed as he looked over to me.

"No," I repeated, turning back at the little girl. "Um... have you seen a really, really furry-"

She cut me off, worry in her voice. "Is he in trouble?"

"No," Sam assured her, chuckling lightly. "No, no, no. Not at all. We just- We wanted to make sure he was okay."

"Exactly." I nodded.

"He's my teddy bear," she explained, lowering her voice to a whisper as she went on. "I think he's sick."

Standing there, looking down at her for a moment longer, it took me a second or two to think up of a response that would get us inside so we could see what was going on. Lucky for us, I was a god liar.

"Wow. Uh... amazing. 'Cause you know what? We..." I gave Sam's arms a nudge, "are, uh..." we pulled out our health inspector badges, "teddy bear doctors."

"Really?" Her face lit up. "Can you please take a look at him?"

Both Sam and I nodded. "Sure. Yeah."

...

Walking up the stairs, the little girl in front while Sam was behind, we followed her to a closed door. I'd looked around every corner and every room we'd passed, finding that we were alone. This little girl who would be no older than nine, was home alone.

Stopping in front of the door, she turned to Sam and me as we stood a step behind her. "He's in my bedroom. He's pretty grumpy." Lifting her hand, she knocked on the door. "Teddy? There's some nice doctors here to see you." Reaching for the handle, she turned it and opened the door.

I could not believe what I was seeing.

Sitting inside the room, watching the news on TV while the lights were out, while drinking some kind of alcoholic drink from the bottle, was a bear. But not just any kind of bear. No, this one looked exactly like the kinds you found on kids' beds. Only difference is... this teddy bear was big. Bigger than Sam and I.

"Close the friggin' door!" he snapped, clearly drunk. It was also obvious that he wasn't angry drunk or bored drunk... he was depressed.

Doing as he said, the little girl closed the door before turning back to Sam and me. "See what I mean?"

Sam and I shared a look. Speechless. We'd never dealt with something like this. How were we supposed to respond? What were we supposed to say? Or do? How were we supposed to reassure this little girl, and get rid of the bear?

"All I ever wanted was a teddy which was big, real, and talked," she explained when neither Sam or I said anything. "But now he's sad all the time. Not 'ouch' sad, but ouch-in-the-head sad. Says weird stuff, and smells like the bus."

"Um, little girl-"

She cut me off with an annoyed sigh, "Audrey!"

"Audrey," I corrected, before going on. "How exactly did your teddy become real?"

"I wished for it," she answered with a simple shrug as if it were obvious and normal... which it wasn't, by the way.

"You wished for it?" Sam asked, needing more than that. We needed details.

Audrey gave a sharp nod. "At the wishing well."

Looking down at her for a moment longer, I wondered if she was being serious or if something else had happened. What was this bear? What was going on in this town?

Stepping forward, I opened the door and moved into the room, watching as the bear still sat there watching the TV, rocking back and forth, holding the bottle of alcohol still.

"Look at this." He gestured to the TV. "You believe this crap?"

Giving a quick glance to the screen, I then turned back to him. "Not really."

"It is a terrible world." He spun around to look at the three of us. "Why am I here?!"

"For tea parties!" Audrey exclaimed.

"Tea parties?" The bear chuckled lightly, unamused. "Is that all there is?" he asked as he began to sob.

Slowly, I turned and walked out of the room, closing the door behind me as I moved to stand next to Sam again, looking down at Audrey once more.

"Audrey, give us a second, okay?" Sam asked, getting an understanding nod from the girl. "Okay." Walking a few steps away, Sam and I had our backs to her as he spoke in a hushed voice, "Are we... should we... uh… are we gonna kill this teddy bear?"

I shrugged, not exactly sure about our options here. "How? Do we shoot it, burn it?"

"I don't know. Both?"

"How do we even know that's gonna work? I don't want some giant, flaming, pissed-off teddy on our hands."

"Yeah." He nodded, agreeing. "Besides, I get the feeling that the bear isn't really the, you know, core problem here." Turning, he spoke to the girl again. "Audrey. Where are your parents?"

"My mum wished they were in Bali, so I think they're in Bali." She shrugged.

That doesn't help the situation...

"Okay, well... I'm really sorry to have to break this to you, but... your bear is sick." Sam sighed sympathetically, "Yeah, he's- he's got..."

As he continued to struggle to come up with something, I saved him. "Lollipop disease."

Sam nodded. "Lollipop disease."

"It's not uncommon for a bear his size," I explained to Audrey, obviously lying through my teeth... but she believed us. "But, see, it's- it's really contagious."

"Yeah, so, is there- is there someone, maybe a grown-up, that you can stay with while we treat him?" Sam asked.

"Mrs Hurley lives down the street," Audrey noted.

"Perfect." I smiled.

"Good, yeah, good. Uh, we'd like you to stay there for a few days, okay?" Sam told her.

"Okay." She nodded, still understanding.

But before she left, there was one more thing we needed to find out. "Oh, and, Audrey? Where is this wishing well?"

SPOV

As Dean and I walked into Lucky Chins, the kid that had been chased before walked out, a look of determination on his face. Ignoring him, we headed straight for the wishing well in the middle of the restaurant.

Stopping in front of it, Dean looked down at it curiously. "Think it works?"

"Got a better explanation for teddy back there?" I countered.

"Well, there's one way to find out." Reaching into his pocket, Dean pulled out a coin.

"What are you gonna wish for?"

"Shh!" He threw the coin in, closing his eyes as he made a wish. "Not supposed to tell."

A second or two later, the bell above the door rang as a delivery guy stepped in. "Somebody order a footlong Italian with jalapeño?"

Dean- just as shocked as I was- looked from the guy, to me, as he raised his hand. "That'd be me."

DPOV

Sitting at one of the tables, I dug into my sub, enjoying every delicious bite it had to offer. "I think it works, dude. That was pretty specific."

Sam shrugged. "The teddy bear, the sandwich..."

"Mm. I'm guessing this." I showed him the front page of the newspaper that sat in front of me, pointing to the article of a man who'd won millions in the lottery.

He gave it a glance before gesturing to the side. "I'm guessing that."

I looked over to see a couple sitting there, all loved up, the guy a nerd the girl a bombshell. "Well, that definitely goes on the list. What are we supposed to do, huh? Stop people's wishes from coming true? I mean, it sounds like kind of a douche-y thing to do."

"Yeah, maybe. But come on, man. When has something like this ever come without a price tag? And usually a deadly one."

"I don't know. It's a damn good sandwich," I noted, taking another bite. "All right. Fine. We'll put a hold on the wishing till we figure out what's going on."

Just then, one of the waiters came over to our table. "Uh, gentlemen, gentlemen. I'm sorry. We don't allow people to eat outside food here."

"Well, I am certainly not gonna eat the inside food here." Gesturing for him to wait, I began to reach into my pockets until i found and pulled out the badge I was looking for. "Health department. You, my friend, have a rat infestation. We're gonna have to shut this place down under emergency hazard code 56C."

"Rats?!"

Bamby

#dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x oc #sam winchester fanfiction #elizabeth rose hart #the hart #the hart iii: secrets

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