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here2bbtstrash · 2 years

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look down on me like that - 8 (explicit)

genre: slow burn enemies to lovers hatefucking coworkers au, smut (w some eventual angst that is no longer eventual 👀)

pairing: yoongi x reader

summary: your asshole coworker min yoongi has made it his personal mission to ruin your life.

word count: *deep breath in* 15.3k

contains: explicit sexual content and discussion of some dark themes .....yyyyyep 🤐 includes past-tense discussions of the d3ath of a parent (reader's) and su1c1dal ideation (yoongi's) so please tread carefully loves 💜 some references to alcohol per usual, and plenty of confusing feelings and piss-poor communication..... i'll leave the rest as a surprise 👀 but here are your smut-specific warnings: kissing (‼️), nipple play, clit stim, a single pussy slap lol, fingering, cunnilingus, squirting (🤭), unprotected sex and pulling out (💀), orgasm denial of sorts, but it's cool bc reader has multiple orgasms, ok byeeeee~

A/N: welp..... i'm off to enter witness protection in case you all decide you hate this chapter 💀 not really but heuhjkghkfjgdsf dear god am i nervous to post this lmfao. hope you're ready for some ~answers to questions~ and a whole lotta callbacks to earlier chapters idk why i shoved them all in ch8 specifically but here you go. the scene at yoongi's apartment was one of the very first things i dreamt up in regards to this story and it's nuts to me that we're all the way here now 💜 hope you're ready for a little more insight into these two! also baby goth fans don't come for me..... i promise we'll get a better resolution there..... reader and yoongi just have to survive LA first 😩

an eternal thank you to @haliiimede and @monimonimoon for being wonderful betas, and to @nabiolive for the dead parent sensitivity read lmfao I LOVE Y'ALL

read on AO3!

chapter seven | masterlist | chapter nine

~*~

In the morning, you wake up well before your alarm with an inexplicable uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach. When it’s clear sleep is a lost cause, you decide to just get up, and you move through your routine slowly. Everything feels distant, not quite real, like it’s happening to someone else.

On the bus ride to the office, you let your eyes drop closed and try desperately not to replay the events of last night back. You should feel bad about the sex on the conference room table, and you do, a little. But your mind is stuck somewhere else.

Rain streaking down Yoongi’s windshield. The silence as he drove, disturbed only by the low rumble of his voice. The way he’d looked at you, and the heavy pause that hung in the air between you, for just a moment, until you’d fumbled open the door of his car and had practically ran back to the safety of your apartment. And his story— he’d told you something personal, with no malice or hidden agenda that you can manage to find, no matter how much you search for one. Something from when he was just a kid, growing up in Daegu.

You’re embarrassed to admit that it never even occurred to you that Min Yoongi might be a person with a past and a hometown and stories to tell. As long as you’ve known him, he’s always just felt like… a menace. A life-ruiner. An inescapable force.

The thoughts follow you as you step off the bus and make your way into the building and onto the elevator. You can’t figure it out. Yoongi could’ve easily left you to suffer in the rain, but instead he did something nice for you, without asking for anything in return. He’d related to you. He’d let you in, barely, but it’s something.

And you have no idea what to make of it.

Polite small talk with Jungkook as you unlock the front doors is a decent distraction, but you wonder if he can tell that you’re not all the way there today. You set your bag on your desk, then circle around to take a seat, only half-listening as he continues to talk.

“Did you stay late last night?”

You swear your heart stops beating. “What?”

He shrugs, like it’s an obvious question. “There’s the big overseas thing today. I’m sure you had a bunch of stuff to prep. Hopefully it wasn’t too late of a night?”

“No.” The word comes out harsher than you mean it to. You’re not quite sure why your body is suddenly doing emotional alchemy, taking your fear of being caught and somehow turning it into anger. “It wasn’t,” you say firmly.

Jungkook makes a face, like he knows he’s touched a nerve but can’t figure out why. “Okay. That’s good.”

You don’t respond— you just try to control your breathing, try to will your heart to quit racing as you start up your laptop and pretend to suddenly be engrossed in it.

“Well,” he tries again after a moment’s pause. “I guess I’ll see you at the presentation thing.”

“Okay,” you answer, your voice a little softer this time, but you’re still too scared to look away from your screen. When you do eventually work up the courage, he’s already gone.

Before you even have the chance to glance back down, like some universal joke at your expense, the front door of the office is pushed open, and Yoongi steps through. Annoyed as you are, you can only be grateful that his entrance didn’t overlap with Jungkook’s question. You probably would have died of embarrassment on the spot.

Yoongi’s usual dark sunglasses are nowhere to be found today, and he’s in nice clothes for the presentation, a button-down and dress pants, his hair styled. He does still have a death grip on a large iced coffee, but that’s to be expected, especially given the fact that he’s in a lot earlier than is typical for him.

It’s only when his eyes snap over to you for the briefest of seconds that you see the dark shadows sunken deep beneath them, weighing heavy on his face.

Yoongi’s gaze moves back to the hallway in front of him as quickly as it alighted on you. You open your mouth before you even understand why you’re doing it.

“Yoongi?”

He stops dead in his tracks and blinks at you a few times, clearly tired, clearly not expecting the interruption. “Yeah?”

“Did you sleep at all last night?”

His mouth pulls into a flat line as he shakes his head. “Nerves. It’s why I don’t do stuff like this. Unless forced.”

You nod, unsure of what to say— or why you even asked. “Oh. Well, uh. Good luck.”

Yoongi lifts his coffee in a parting gesture, then disappears toward his lab without another word.

You try to focus on your work, to shove the interaction to the back of your mind with everything else you’re avoiding, but the screen seems to blur in front of you, until you finally push back from your desk with an exasperated sigh. The emails can wait.

Maybe, you consider, it would be good to stretch your legs. You can head into the presentation room early to set up before everyone arrives, and make sure everything is working for the several hours of agenda lined up for the morning.

Setting your shoulders back, you grab your things and make your way down the hallway. The thought feels like a good idea until you push the door open and encounter a severe case of deja vu.

Yoongi glances up from his laptop at the front of the room, blearily rubbing at one eye with the heel of his hand. “Is it time already?”

You hover in the threshold, unsure. “Uh— I mean, not quite. I’m early. I can go, if you want.”

He shrugs, busying himself with something on his computer screen. “You’ll have to hear it anyway. Can I just run through it one more time?”

You take a few tentative steps forward, dropping your bag and laptop on the table, right where you sat to watch him the night before. The energy in the room feels entirely different now, and your stomach is twisted into knots that you can’t manage to breathe deep enough to untangle.

“Yeah, fine.” You pause, unable to help yourself. “Just… don’t expect the same treatment as last night.”

Yoongi huffs a dark laugh. “I wasn’t.”

Taking a seat at the table, you set about your admin duties and try to ignore the way Yoongi mumbles over his presentation as he taps through his slides at the front of the room. There’s only so much you can do without bothering him, and you fly through those tasks all-too quickly. You drag your bottom lip between your teeth as you glance back up at Yoongi, and then you inhale to steady yourself before you speak.

“Can you turn on the mic?”

His head snaps up, caught off guard. “Hmm?”

“I need to make sure the mic is working.” Yoongi’s gaze flits to the podium’s built in-microphone, then back to you as he presses the switch to turn it on. “Say something into it,” you instruct. “It doesn’t matter what.”

Yoongi’s eyes move back to the microphone, and it’s like you can see the delay in his brain from lack of sleep. You don’t know what you were expecting— maybe a half-assed ‘check, check’, at worst some sexual or smart-ass remark. Instead, he leans in far closer than is necessary, until his mouth is nearly touching the microphone as he whispers into it.

“Sugaaaaa.”

The live demo of the notorious producer tag that intros all of his tracks is so ridiculous, so unexpected, that you can’t help it. You burst out laughing, clapping a hand over your mouth a few seconds too late. “What the fuck was that?!” The question is only muffled slightly by your palm.

Yoongi’s head drops forward, his dark hair falling in his face, and you can see his shoulders shaking with laughter, too. “Sorry,” he manages with a gasp for breath, tilting back up to speak into the microphone, which you can now actually tell is working properly. “I’m so fucking tired, I think I’m going insane.”

You uncover your mouth as you shake your head in disbelief.

The sudden loud buzz of your phone against the conference room table makes you jump, and you quickly reach for it, for fear it might be an emergency text from your boss that needs immediate attention. Your eyes widen in surprise when you see it’s actually from Jungkook.

Presentation thing? Wanna sit together?

You read the words again and again, and a strange feeling rises up in your chest that you can’t quite name. As you stare down at your phone, you hear the distinct sound of Yoongi’s laptop shutting, and then his voice, no longer amplified by the microphone when he mutters to himself, “Fuck it. It’s as good as it’s gonna get.”

Feeling suddenly overwhelmed, you glance up at Yoongi again, then back down at the text. With a final hard swallow, you turn your phone on silent and flip it over on the table, leaving Jungkook’s question unanswered.

The time is close enough now that you get to your feet to prop open the presentation room door, and then your colleagues quickly start to file into the space, filling in the seats around the large U-shaped arrangement of tables. It’s everything you can do to keep your expression neutral as your brain unhelpfully reminds you that Yoongi fucked you on one of these tables last night.

You try to manage something close to a smile when your boss enters with the team from the American office in tow, and you proceed to exchange pleasantries with them and fake laugh at their jokes when he introduces you.

As you’re listening diplomatically to one of them drone on about the flight to Seoul, you spot Jungkook slip in the door out of the corner of your eye, and it takes extra effort to keep the smile plastered on your face. The seats on either side of yours have long since been taken, and you glance over to see his eyes sweep the room before he moves to take an open spot at the far end.

You watch unabashedly now as he leans back in his chair, tilting to one side to pull his phone out of his pocket, and you can only pray he’s watching TikToks with the sound off rather than checking for a text that’s never coming.

When your manager repeats a question meant for you, your attention snaps back to the group. Sure your smile is nearly a grimace now, you apologize and blame the distraction on needing more coffee, which is enough to earn you a polite chuckle.

Eventually the room takes their seats as your manager moves to the front to start the presentation. You stay focused on copying down minutes as various speakers go through the company’s financials for the previous four quarters, the roadmap for the coming years, and a summary of top-level talent that the label has signed or directly worked with.

The discussion of talent leads smoothly into a quick review of achievements and nominations, and then Yoongi steps to the front of the room.

As he launches in, you can’t get over the stark difference between the Yoongi you’re used to and the one standing behind the podium in front of you. The man with the easy, confident, cocky demeanor is nowhere to be found, replaced with someone who barely looks up from his slides and speaks at a rushed pace, like he’s trying to get the words out as fast as possible. You bite down firmly on your bottom lip and try not to react at all.

He’s nearly halfway done now, and just as you’re thinking he might make it through the whole thing unscathed, Yoongi stumbles slightly over his words. It’s not a lot, a little slip-up that the rest of the room probably didn’t even notice, but you see a momentary flash of panic in his dark eyes. And then those eyes snap up to meet yours, and your stomach drops.

The memory of the two of you in this room, the thought of what you’d be doing to him if you were alone again, the way you could so easily make his voice shake and his knees threaten to buckle with just your mouth— it’s all too much.

You can’t help yourself as the smile you’ve been desperately trying to hide starts to spread across your face, equal parts supportive and indecent.

There’s a beat of silence, not long enough for anyone to think anything of it, and then Yoongi drops your gaze as quickly as he found it. He squints back down at his computer screen, and though he leans away from the microphone, you don’t miss the unmistakable sound of him clearing his throat.

“Excuse me,” he murmurs, and then he picks up where he left off, managing to get back on track without further issue.

You desperately try to ignore the warm flush of heat that creeps up your neck as Yoongi goes through the rest of his slides.

Time seems to speed by in a rush after his presentation, and you barely manage to keep up with the barrage of content. You’re more than grateful when your manager inevitably wraps up the session, reminding everyone to head to a nearby restaurant for a team lunch immediately following.

As the room begins to empty, you take your time finishing up the notes and firing them off to the broader audience. When you finally close your laptop and look up, you realize nearly everyone has left now, though as fate would have it, Yoongi has also lagged behind. He’s standing hunched over the conference room table as he types something into his own laptop.

You try not to overthink it as you hug your computer to your chest and take a few steps toward him. “Yoongi?”

He hums a response, and when he glances up at you, the bags under his eyes are just as prominent as before.

“Are you, uh— coming to lunch?”

He rolls his eyes, like the question is ridiculous. “I can’t. I’m drowning in shit I put off for the last two days.”

His words make you take a step back, and you immediately feel stupid for asking. Why do you even care what he does? “Right. Got it.”

You don’t wait around for him to say anything else, you just shove your laptop into your purse and pull the strap over your shoulder as you head for the exit.

Largely preoccupied with getting away from Yoongi, you don’t pay much attention to your surroundings as you slip out of the room, and you only get a few steps down the hall before a voice behind you nearly makes you jump out of your skin. “There you are.”

“Jesus!” you gasp, whipping around to find Jungkook leaning up against the glass wall of the conference room, his arms crossed over his chest. “You fucking scared me, Baby Goth.”

“Sorry.” He gives a shy smile, nose scrunching slightly like he’s embarrassed. “I wasn’t gonna let you ditch me again. Lunch?”

You do your best to match his smile. “Let’s go. I’m starving.”

The two of you meet up with the rest of the team at a restaurant well out of your price range, and Jungkook babbles freely as he stuffs his face, seemingly unbothered by how little you have to say in return. The chatter of so many people at the long table is a white noise that you can’t focus on any part of, and Jungkook’s usual comforting presence feels overwhelming today, nearly stifling. You push food back and forth on your plate but barely eat, your stomach uneasy for reasons you don’t want to dwell on.

“Min Suga seemed like he didn’t even want to be up there.” The mention of Yoongi’s pseudonym is enough to snap you out of your haze.

“Huh?” You glance up at Jungkook, your eyes widening slightly, and you force yourself to eat another bite of pasta as he continues.

“I don’t know, he went through it so fast. Guess it makes sense. He hates anything that drags him out of his lab, right?”

You aimlessly twirl your fork against your plate, around and around. When you first started this job, you would have agreed with Jungkook without a second thought. Laughed about it, even. Now you’re not so sure. You don’t want to add to this growing sense of friction, the weird energy in the air, but the words come out anyway.

“He was nervous, Jungkook.”

When you meet his gaze again, Jungkook looks confused, and you instantly regret saying anything at all.

“What, did he tell you that?”

You nod as you take another bite of food to avoid having to explain yourself.

Jungkook’s eyes drift down to the table between you, distant, his brow furrowed like he’s suddenly doing some complex mental math. “When?”

“Last night,” you murmur through your mouthful. “We both worked late. I helped him practice a little.” The explanation was meant to make the situation sound less incriminating, but somehow you feel like it only makes it worse. You hope Jungkook can’t tell how warm your face is starting to get.

When he finally speaks, his voice is low, his gaze still not meeting yours. “I thought you said you didn’t stay late. When I asked you this morning.”

A rush of adrenaline hits your bloodstream so hard it makes you dizzy. “I—I didn’t. It wasn’t that late. Like an hour max. Didn’t seem worth mentioning.” You set your fork down, quickly hiding your hands in your lap so Jungkook can’t see the way they’ve started to tremble.

His only response is a slow nod, and then he goes quiet in a way that’s rare for him. It feels like an eternity of sitting and eating in silence before either of you says another word.

The conversation eventually picks back up again, and when it does, you try to tell yourself you’re just imagining that it’s slightly more stilted than before.

As you and Jungkook trail after the rest of your coworkers on the walk back to the office, you trade a few more polite questions about work-related projects, and then you fall quiet again, seemingly out of things to say. It’s a few stretches of city blocks, and then you see Jungkook’s head tip up, and he outright sniffs the air.

You can’t help but laugh a little, mostly because he looks like a dog, and then you smell it too. The unmistakable aroma coming from the street cart up ahead. You smile softly to yourself as you both slow to pass it, ogling rice cakes and fish cakes simmering in a pan of spicy sauce.

“God,” Jungkook groans appreciatively. “I would absolutely destroy some tteokbokki right now if I didn’t think I’d literally explode.”

“This is what happens when you help yourself to thirds every time you eat,” you chide him with a giggle, and the two of you nod to the vendor before you continue on toward the office. You only take a few more steps before you falter, and Jungkook turns back when he notices you’ve stopped.

“What’s up? Did you want to get some?”

You don’t know what makes you lie. “Uh, no. I, uh— I just realized, I think I left my scarf back at the restaurant. I’m gonna run back, but don’t worry about waiting for me. You’ve got work stuff.”

Jungkook shrugs, like it’s not a big deal. “It’s cool, I can go with you.”

“No, that’s okay,” you say, firmly enough to make it very obvious you don’t want company. Maybe a little too firm, because Jungkook blinks, like he’s taken aback. Your stomach twists with a feeling that you imagine must be similar to having just kicked a puppy.

“Oh. Alright, well. I’ll see you later, then.” He pauses for a moment, tongue pressed to the inside of his cheek, and then he turns on his heel and keeps walking in the direction of the office. You worry your bottom lip between your teeth as you watch Jungkook’s retreating form until he disappears down the city block.

You try not to overthink the interaction as you retrace your steps to the cart, then head back to the office with a takeout bag gripped in one hand. Thankfully you don’t have to fumble for another lie of an excuse, because you don’t run into Jungkook or anyone else in your straight shot from the entrance to the door of Yoongi’s lab. Quick as you can, you punch in the lock code, then push the handle down and slip inside.

It takes you a minute to process what you’re seeing as you shut the door behind you. Yoongi’s arms are folded on the desk in front of him, and he’s slumped forward, head buried in the crook of his elbow. For a brief moment your heart drops, and then you take a tentative step closer and realize there’s no shake or shudder to his shoulders, only the smooth rise and fall of deep, steady breathing.

He’s asleep.

You close the remaining distance until you can reach out and gently place a hand on his back. “Yoongi?”

He inhales sharply, and you quickly pull your hand away like you’ve just been burned. Tilting his head to one side, he cracks an eye open, mumbling something that sounds like a question but is otherwise fully incoherent.

“You fell asleep,” you say dumbly, and Yoongi slowly sits up with a grunt, his eyes squinting, clearly readjusting to the room around him. He leans back to stretch, and several places in his back and shoulders crack impressively loudly.

“Fuck,” he sighs, voice strained, one hand rubbing at the back of his neck. “Why are you in here?”

“I brought you lunch,” you murmur, lifting the takeout bag for him to witness. He frowns at it, then up at you, like he can’t quite figure out what’s happening.

“Thanks,” he eventually manages. “You can just leave it. I’m nowhere near done with all my—”

You cut him off before he can finish. “Go home, Yoongi.”

The look of slack-jawed confusion on his face is enough to nearly make you laugh. “What?”

“I said go home.”

His brow furrows. “You’re not my boss.”

“I’m not saying it as your boss,” you sigh. “But you need to eat, and sleep. This isn’t healthy.”

Yoongi huffs a little, exasperated. “That’s easy for you to say, but I have so much stupid admin stuff to get caught up on.” He gestures halfheartedly to a massive to-do list pulled up on his monitor, one he’s barely a quarter of the way through.

Suppressing the urge to roll your eyes, you hum, feigning thought. “If only you had someone who could help with that. Some kind of… Admin Bitch.”

The comment must catch him off-guard, because he outright laughs. “You know, I still haven’t changed your contact name.”

You quirk an eyebrow. “Then you should go before I question why I’m being nice to you. I’ll leave a note for tomorrow with anything I can’t figure out for myself. Assuming you trust my ability to do my job.” As if to indicate that you are no longer open to discussing the subject, you shove the takeout bag into Yoongi’s chest, and he wraps both arms around it, still looking entirely dazed.

But to your surprise, he doesn’t fight you, just slowly rolls his desk chair back and gets to his feet. You watch carefully as he shifts the bag of food to one arm, then grabs his work bag and slings it over his shoulder. “I, uh— thanks.”

You wave a hand as if to tell him not to mention it, and then you plop down into his chair and get to work, barely phased by the sound of the door clicking shut when he leaves.

~*~

As you settle in at your desk the next morning, it dawns on you how close the Grammys have started to loom, made abundantly clear by the overwhelming amount of prep you find yourself launched into. You don’t think you look up from your screen once, not even bothering to greet coworkers as they push through the doors, until the muted tap of something being placed on your desk startles you.

You see the cup of coffee first, and when you glance up expecting a pair of Baby Star Candy eyes, you instead find Yoongi hovering at the edge of your desk, like he’s not sure what he’s doing there. You make zero attempts to hide your total shock at whatever the fuck is going on in this moment.

He looks— good. Fresh-faced, like he managed to actually get some sleep, a little less gaunt. Even his expression seems weirdly pleasant, something you might mistake for happiness if you thought that he was capable of such an emotion.

There’s a crinkling sound, and when he gently sets a small wax paper pastry bag on your desk next to the coffee, you’re sure that you’ve overslept your alarm and are in the depths of a wild, ridiculous dream. It’s the only way any of this can be happening.

You blink up at him as you hesitantly reach for the bag, like you’re scared it might bite you.

“It’s maple,” he says as you slowly pick it up and investigate the contents. It’s still warm. “I asked for the most disgustingly sweet thing they had.”

Too overwhelmed, you set the pastry bag back down wordlessly. As you do, it’s only now that your eyes focus on the letters “AB” sketched in black marker on the side of the coffee cup, where a barista would typically write your name.

Yoongi’s eyes must be watching yours carefully, because he huffs a laugh as he sees realization dawn over your face. “Making them actually write Admin Bitch seemed a bit much.”

You can’t manage to find a laugh to match his, can only sit there, shell-shocked. When you look up again, he’s already walking backwards in the direction of his lab, but his eyes are still on you. “I’d tell you not to tell anyone, but I don’t think they’d believe you even if you did.”

And just like that, he’s gone again.

You remain unconvinced that both of his gifts aren’t secretly poisoned, but your desperate need for a fresh hit of caffeine overwhelms any other emotion. Carefully, you lift the cup to your lips and take a sip— it’s not scalding, but still perfectly hot, and your eyes widen as the flavor hits your tongue.

Two cream, three sugar. Exactly how you like it.

Before you’ve even had time to swallow, Jungkook is suddenly rounding the corner from the opposite direction, and you have to make a conscious effort not to choke.

He slows to a stop, and you watch him take in the coffee cup clutched between your hands like a lifeline. “Hey! You seriously snuck out for coffee without me?” His tone is mock-hurt, but you can’t help wondering whether it’s entirely put on.

Your gaze drops back down to the cup. “Sorry, JK. Someone else picked this up for me.”

Jungkook doesn’t pry into your vague statement, but a sinking feeling in your stomach tells you that maybe he doesn’t have to.

~*~

It’s Saturday night by the time your schedule aligns with Jimin’s for a night out, and given that it’s the last time you’ll see him before you leave for Los Angeles, you manage to guilt him into driving. The bar you choose is a shitty dive nowhere near your office, where you’re certain you won’t have to worry about any accidental encounters.

Or any encounters at all, as it turns out. The place is dead.

“I think we’re single-handedly keeping them open tonight,” Jimin murmurs with a grimace as you grab a pair of stools.

The bartender pours you each two shots and two beers, then returns to their side work at the far end of the bar in an apparent attempt to give the two of you some privacy.

It’s only once you’ve had your first shot and are halfway through the accompanying beer that you’re able to speak the words aloud: “I had sex in the office again.”

Jimin glances up at the ceiling, as if asking for strength, and you recount the full story mostly to the wood grain in front of you, unable to look your best friend in the face while you catch him up on everything.

When you fill in the final details, Jimin nearly spits his drink out. “Suga really hatefucked you on a conference table?! I need to go buy some lottery tickets.” He throws back his second shot, and there’s a smug smile on his face as he swallows it down. “God, I love being psychic.”

You shove an elbow into his ribs. “Listen. I don’t know what’s fucking happening anymore, Mochi. Sometimes he’s insufferable but now sometimes we apparently mildly tolerate and are even nice to each other. Like, coffee and a pastry nice.” You smack your hand on the bar for emphasis as you repeat the words. “Coffee. And. A. Pastry.”

“So,” Jimin clasps his hands together as he surveys you. There’s a look on his face like he’s clearly expecting you to draw some conclusion from all of this, but it seems to have entirely escaped you. “What have we learned?”

You drop your head down on the bar with a resounding thud. “We’ve learned that Min Yoongi is ruining my life.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

Voice muffled slightly, you groan. “Don’t make me say it louder.”

“No, what did you just say?” You lift your head up to look at him, and his expression is deadly serious, his eyes sharp and focused. “Min Yoongi? I know Min Yoongi.”

You give him the same look right back. “You what?”

“We were trainees together. I— wait, Min Yoongi is Suga the producer? Really?!” He scrambles for his phone and you just sit there, dumbfounded.

“How are you only now telling me that you know him?”

Jimin glances up, incredulous. “Um, hi, because you literally never fucking told me Suga is Min Yoongi?”

You roll your eyes. “Please, surely I have said his name to you at least once.”

It’s Jimin’s turn to smack the bar, and he does so loudly. “Run those tapes back, ma’am! We have always called him Suga.”

“You’re telling me you’ve never even Googled him?!”

He makes a face like the mere suggestion is ridiculous. “I am an adult, with a job and a very needy boyfriend. Your chaos already monopolizes too much of my time.”

The search on his phone loads, and you watch Jimin tap and scroll slowly, mouth dropping open in disbelief. “Min Yoongi is Suga. Wow. I think I need a minute.”

Jimin’s earlier words finally catch up to you, and you finish the last of your first beer before you dare ask the question. “Yoongi was really a trainee?”

“He was,” Jimin confirms, gaze still locked on his phone. “Obviously he didn’t debut either. He left a few months before I did. I always wondered what happened to him.”

“What was he like?” Your voice comes out soft, a little unsure.

His eyes widen, staring off unfocused as he searches through his memory. “I mean, we weren’t super close, he’s a few years older than me. But it doesn’t sound like that much has changed if I think about what you’ve told me. He was quiet, not too personable. Worked hard. Didn’t really seem that close to anybody. I think maybe he had a difficult home life?”

Your stomach drops a little as Jimin pauses, choosing his words. “Like I guess his parents weren’t very supportive. So I think he felt like he had a lot to prove, and had really high standards for himself. But he obviously loved music. Makes sense that he ended up a producer. It’s like me and dance, right?” He picks up his beer with a shrug, staring thoughtfully down at the amber liquid. “Man. Those years were tough.”

As Jimin takes a sip of his drink and then continues on about his trainee days, your head starts to spin. You throw back your second shot in hopes that it might help.

You wish you could go back and unlearn this information, unsay the name Min Yoongi. Because you don’t want to think about him. You don’t want to know that Min Yoongi gets nervous about public speaking, that he likes his coffee iced, that he can’t say no to street cart tteokbokki, that he used to be a trainee, that he worked an unpaid job in Daegu, that he had a disapproving family and never felt good enough and maybe still doesn’t.

Min Yoongi was so simple when you first met him, back when he was a two-dimensional character, the antagonist of your TV show life, your enemy. But now he’s none of those things. He’s a real, flawed, complicated person, and your feelings for him are confusing and overwhelming. And you deeply do not want to think about your feelings. You don’t want to examine them, don’t want to hold them up to the light for fear of what you might find. It occurs to you in this moment that you don’t want to think about anything at all.

With a sigh, you scoot your chair back from the bar, then get to your feet.

“What are you doing?” Jimin interrupts himself to ask as you dig your phone out of your purse.

You’re doing the only thing that makes sense. “I’m gonna go fuck him,” you say, resigned, and then you make your way out the front door of the bar as you pull up Yoongi’s contact in your phone.

It’s only as the line starts to ring that you realize you don’t exactly have a location in mind. Sex in a bar bathroom is an experience you have no desire to repeat, and the thought of Yoongi seeing your shithole apartment makes your drinks threaten a return appearance.

You’re starting to consider that maybe you should just hang up and forget the idea entirely when Yoongi’s voice startles you.

“Uh, hi?”

“Hi.”

There’s a pause as you realize you didn’t actually plan how to have this conversation, and then you and Yoongi speak in tandem.

“I was just wondering—”

“Is there a reason you—”

“Shut up,” you snap, agitated by your own awkwardness. “What are you doing right now?”

Yoongi laughs darkly into the phone. “I’m sorry, is this a booty call?”

“Answer the question, asshole.”

There’s a slight shifting sound, like he’s making himself comfortable. “Nothing. Drinking.”

“Great, same here.”

Another pause, and you swear you can hear Yoongi slow blinking, can see the stupid smirk on his face when you close your eyes. “Would you like to come over, then?”

“Yes,” you answer, trying to sound more confident than you feel, and then you falter slightly. You’re not about to ask Jimin to drive you— you don’t trust him enough to stay in the car and behave, not when he’s been drinking. “Uh, are you by any chance near a bus stop?”

Yoongi doesn’t even try to suppress his snort of laughter. “I’m not. But I can send a car.”

“You don’t have to do that,” you say quickly, trying to think. “I can figure something—”

“Please,” Yoongi cuts you off. “If you’re really calling me begging to get fucked, the least I can do is provide the transportation. Just send me your location.”

“Fine,” you concede, and your voice comes out harsh. “But to be clear, I am not begging.”

He hums a low note, like he’s thinking it over. “Not yet,” he ultimately responds. “See you soon.”

You swallow hard as the call disconnects.

The time it takes for the car to arrive is just enough for you to slip back inside and finish your beer, and Jimin’s eyes narrow with frustration when you’re unable to explain yourself.

“Didn’t you just complain that this man was ruining your life?”

“Yes,” you retort. “And then I thought it over, and I decided that’s my job.” Your phone buzzes with the notification that the car is outside, and you quickly swig the last of your drink. “Bye.”

Jimin’s face twists like he’s holding further commentary back, which you didn’t think he was capable of doing without combusting. “Alright, babygirl,” he finally sighs, defeated. “Call me if you need saving.”

“I always do,” you deadpan as you lean in to press a kiss to his cheek.

~*~

Yoongi doesn’t say anything when he opens the door for you, just nods his head to the interior of his apartment to gesture you inside, letting the door swing wider so you can step past him. He shuts it again as you slip your heels off, and it takes you a second to adjust to your true height difference, the fact that you have to look a little further up to meet his gaze now.

“Want a drink?” is his delayed greeting, and you shrug.

“Yeah, okay. Just whatever you’re having.”

Without another word, he turns and heads down the hallway, and you follow after him, taking in your surroundings as you move further inside. It’s only now that it occurs to you how rich he must be. His place is identical to any one of the swanky, million-dollar Hannam apartments of which you’ve spent thousands of hours watching YouTube tours. You try to keep your expression neutral as you follow him into the living room, but it’s hard not to be impressed.

Yoongi crosses the room to a mini-bar, built into the far wall and softly backlit with inset LEDs. You pull your bottom lip into your mouth as you hover nervously for a second, then finally choose to drop down onto the large, L-shaped couch, setting your purse on the floor next to you.

“Thoughts—” When Yoongi’s voice breaks the silence, you start a little, not expecting it. “—on single malt whiskey?” He turns over his shoulder, and you shrug back at him.

“Never met one I didn’t like.”

The corner of his mouth pulls up, just barely. “Alright.” You watch as he grabs a dark green bottle off the shelf, coating the bottom of a glass with the amber liquid inside, then just barely topping up what must be his own drink. He crosses back to the couch, hands you yours, then drops down a respectable distance away from you with a sigh of effort.

The atmosphere is certainly different from what you’d expected, and Yoongi must be able to tell you’re a little on edge, not sure what to do or why you thought coming here was a good idea.

He glances over at you as he swirls the contents of his glass. “Not feeling up for much small talk tonight. Sorry.”

“That’s fine,” you say quickly. “We don’t have to talk.”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, you grit your teeth in anticipation of the smug smile, the cocky smirk at your unintended double meaning, but it never comes. Yoongi stays just as he is, slouched forward, his eyes unfocused, like he’s got a thousand thoughts running through his mind at once.

You turn sideways on the couch so you can look over the back of it and out of the large picture window behind you, where the city is alive in a blur of light and color, bracketed by the dark swath of the Han River.

Yoongi’s whiskey is strong but smooth, tastes like the bottle probably cost more than the entire bar-tab you and Jimin rang up tonight, and you sip it slowly. The thought of your best friend sparks something in your mind— you find yourself speaking again in spite of your previous statement.

“I just found out that you know my best friend. Park Jimin.”

At this, Yoongi looks up, clearly stunned. “No shit?” You nod, taking another pull from your drink, and he shakes his head. “I haven’t heard that name in years. How is he?”

“He’s good,” you murmur, the sharp taste of alcohol lingering on the back of your tongue. “He’s really good. He actually just performed in the concert I took Jungkook to.”

Yoongi pauses, glass halfway to his lips. “What group is he in? For someone in the industry I am atrocious at keeping up with this shit.”

“Oh, he’s not, he’s just a back-up dancer now. He never debuted.”

Yoongi nods slowly. “Well. Makes two of us.”

Your chest starts to tighten a little— you’re weirdly nervous to talk to him about this. It feels like uncharted territory. “I can’t believe you were a trainee.”

He leans back, resting his free arm over the back of the couch, fingers tapping idly. “I can’t either, most days. It was a long time ago. Feels like it happened to somebody else.”

Torn between deep curiosity and not wanting to pry, you stare down at the liquid swirling in your glass and leave it up to Yoongi. To your surprise, he keeps talking.

“So what did Jimin tell you about me?”

The unexpected question makes you laugh a little. “Uh… I don’t know. Said you sound like you’re still the same as you were back then. Keeping to yourself and working a lot.”

You don’t know if you should repeat everything, but the liquor loosens your tongue. “He said your parents weren’t very supportive.”

You glance up to see Yoongi shake his head, matter-of-fact. “They were not. So you can imagine how well they took it when I quit.” Your heart sinks at the thought. “Probably put a chip on my shoulder, if I want to be introspective about it. Explains the workaholic tendencies, maybe.”

He takes a longer sip of his drink this time, chasing his swallow with a grimace as he stares at the floor. “It’s funny. I always feel like I have to do better, even now. I get obsessed with work because it’s better than being depressed. And most of the time it feels like there’s nothing else to do anyway. I just work myself to death because it’s my only reason to stay alive.”

Your stomach drops sharply, and you can’t help but look over at him as he continues, feeling thoroughly unprepared for this sudden insight into the inner workings of Min Yoongi.

“It doesn’t even matter what milestones I hit, the fame, the fortune, whatever. I’m going to the fucking Grammys next week and it still doesn’t feel good enough.” His eyes flicker up to find yours, and his voice is quieter now. “Even if I win, I know it won’t. How sad is that?”

“You sound like my dad,” you mutter into your glass, and then your gaze snaps back to Yoongi as you realize what you’ve just said.

He looks as surprised as you feel, and you steady yourself as you take a swig of your drink and swallow it down. Fuck it. If he can overshare, so can you. “Work always came first, before family, before everything. And you know what happened? He dropped dead in his office before he even turned fifty. They said it was probably stress.”

There’s a flash of something in Yoongi’s eyes, but he doesn’t try to interrupt you.

“It makes me so mad,” you say, and you will yourself not to get emotional, your grip on your drink tightening slightly. “Because he worked so fucking hard thinking that once he got to a certain place, he’d be happy. Just a little more, then he could relax. But he never got there. He worked non-stop his whole life and then he fucking died. That’s it.

“And you know what’s really fucked up?” You don’t wait for Yoongi to respond— you can’t stop it all from coming out now, like a tap turned on high.

“People say grief makes you resilient, that it makes you stronger, or kinder, that we go through these things and they’re hard but you learn from them and grow or whatever the fuck. And I don’t feel like any of that shit is true for me. My dad died, and I just got worse.” A self-deprecating laugh flutters out around your words. “I’m selfish. I’m lazy. I make terrible choices. I deeply cannot fucking stand myself, if I’m honest with you. Jimin is like the one friend I still keep in touch with who knew me when my dad was alive, because everyone else just… didn’t know what to do with me. And I don’t blame them.

“And it makes me feel like such a fucking asshole, because he died, and I’m sitting here complaining about me. It’s like I don’t even miss him as much as I just miss… the way things used to be. The person I used to be.” You let yourself take a breath, but the final thought, the part you don’t usually say out loud, slips out with it. “It’s like she died, too.”

There’s a long pause that feels like an eternity, and you realize your heart is racing in your chest. You lean back against the couch with a sigh of frustration, too embarrassed at your own word vomit to do anything but stare at the stupidly high ceiling. You’re so wrapped up in the rush of saying it all— it’s been a while since you’ve gone this deep with anyone— that it takes you a second to notice that Yoongi is laughing softly.

“Wow. And here I thought you were just a slacker.”

The words make you glance over at him. You haven’t divulged these feelings to many people, but nearly everyone you’ve told has responded the same: awkward apologies, shitty words of affirmation you didn’t ask for, waxing poetic bullshit lies about how you’re not a bad person. A road paved with good intentions, things meant to console you that only make you want to scream.

But Yoongi gives you none of that. He just nods, like he understands.

“Well,” you counter, trying not to let the shock read on your face. “I thought you were just an asshole.”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong. I am an asshole. I’ll own that.” He smirks into his glass as he takes another sip of his drink. “Do you want to know something?”

“What?”

He suddenly pauses, like he’s not sure how to word it, like he maybe regrets asking the question at all. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him so hesitant before. “You have to not make a big deal about it.”

“Okay,” you say simply. You’re willing to return the favor.

“The night I left the studio door unlocked, and there was the break-in,” Yoongi starts, his thumb fiddling with the ring on his index finger. Something twists in your stomach, an intuition you can’t explain that makes it immediately clear to you what he’s about to say. “I wasn’t thinking about locking up that night because I... was planning to kill myself.”

It’s like all the air is sucked out of the room, and you will yourself not to react, gripping your glass until your knuckles blanch. Your eyes drop to the floor as you try to process the weight of his words.

“But you didn’t,” you reply dumbly.

“No, I didn’t. I walked up and down the bridge over the river for a long time. Probably an hour, maybe more, I don’t know.” You look up to the window again, tracing the inkblot snake of the river in the distance.

“I thought about it, and then I decided to go home. I thought that maybe I could give it just one more day and see what happened. And then when I got to work the next day, I was in such deep shit about the break-in, I felt like everyone would blame themselves if I did it after that. Like they’d think they were too hard on me.” He laughs bitterly to himself. “Like I’m not always the one who is hardest on myself.”

“Yoongi,” you breathe. “I don’t know what to say.”

He shrugs. “You don’t have to say anything. It just feels nice to tell someone.”

There’s a heavy silence between you, and heat rushes to your face as the words leave your mouth before you can stop them. “I’m glad you didn’t do it.”

He glances over at you, brows pinched together like he doesn’t believe you. “You hate me.”

“I do not!” The insistence in your voice surprises even you. In an attempt to ground yourself, you press your palm to the side of your drink and try to focus on the feeling, the cool surface against your flushed skin. “I mean, I definitely did. But now, I don’t know. Would I really be wasting my Saturday night here if I hated you?”

Yoongi pauses with his glass halfway to his mouth, and you can see him fighting to keep a smile off his face. “Look at me, you came over here to fuck and I turned it into a therapy session. Christ.”

With a final shake of his head, he downs the last of his drink in one swallow. “You want a tour?”

You follow Yoongi as he takes a winding path through the various rooms of his apartment, and you continue to sip at your drink, barely processing any of what he shows you. Your mind is still spinning from the conversation, and that paired with the cotton fuzz of strong liquor makes everything feel muted and far away.

As anticipated, the tour ends in his bedroom, which matches the rest of the place: sleek, minimally decorated, and bathed in the soft glow of inset strip lighting that runs the length of the ceiling.

When Yoongi sets his empty glass down on the dresser, you mirror him, then watch as he steps in to close the distance between you. As your eyes search his, you realize you’re once again caught between conflicting versions of Min Yoongi, still trying to reconcile the one you thought you knew with the person who just spilled his guts all over the living room floor. It feels impossible to hold the two of them together in your mind.

Up close, his smirk seems to soften. “You’re a lot shorter without those heels.”

Before you even understand what you’re doing, or why, you take his face in your hands and kiss him. It’s only a split second, your lips barely brushing over his, and then you quickly pull away, struck by the reality of what you’ve just done.

“Shit,” you breathe, dropping your hands and taking a step back. You stumble slightly as a hot wave of shame rushes up in your chest. “Sorry, I just—”

You don’t get to finish the thought, because Yoongi’s touch is sliding over the curve of your waist, and then he’s dragging you back toward him until his mouth finds yours again. The taste of whiskey lingers on his soft lips as they move against yours— you can’t help but whimper a little at how hungrily he kisses you. Like he’s wanted to do it for a long time.

The idea overwhelms you, and you pull away from him again, your lips still ghosting over his. “Yoongi.” You try your best to sound firm when you say his name, pressing one hand against his chest as you look up at him. “This… can’t mean anything.”

You can feel the heat of his breath when he laughs softly. “It doesn’t have to. I’ve been trying to tell you that.”

Too desperate for his mouth to want to argue, you decide to let him win. “Okay,” you sigh. Your hand is already tangled in his long, dark hair by the time his lips meet yours again.

“Get on the bed,” Yoongi murmurs between kisses, and you do as he says.

Moving backwards, you crawl up toward the pillows while Yoongi crosses the room to hit a panel on the wall, dimming the soft lights overhead until they’re barely there. He comes back to join you, strong hands wordlessly guiding you to lay down beneath him.

It’s weird to not be rushing through this: to feel like you can take your time as he kisses you again, as you lick into his mouth to roll your tongue over his, as one of his hands starts to creep under your skirt to gently rub up and down the length of your thigh.

The motions of his hand push the fabric higher and higher, until it’s as far up as it can go, and he leans back, clearly not satisfied.

“Can I take this off?” he asks, and you nod, sitting up to help as he pulls your dress up over your head.

It occurs to you a beat too late that you’ve never been this naked in front of him before, and your heartbeat flutters. “You too,” you murmur, pinching gently at the hem of Yoongi’s t-shirt, and he smirks as he reaches one hand between his shoulder blades to tug it off entirely.

You take him in as he drops the shirt to his bedroom floor: he’s broad-shouldered in a way you’ve never noticed under all his baggy clothes, with firm definition in the muscles of his chest and arms, and there’s a flush of warm glow to his pale skin.

As you blink up at Yoongi, more than dazed, you realize his eyes are roaming over your body, too. “Fuck,” he swears under his breath, and you resist the sudden urge to hide from his surveying gaze. “You have great tits.”

You’re not sure what you were expecting, but it wasn’t that, and the surprise of it makes you laugh.

“Just for that, I’ll let you see them,” you say, unable to keep the teasing edge out of your voice as you lean forward to reach behind your back. Your hands shake a little more than you’d like as you fumble to undo your bra and toss it off the side of the bed to join everything else.

Your nipples stiffen quickly in the cool air of his room, and when you lay back again, Yoongi covers your body with his, the movement paired with a groan that’s nearly a growl. You can’t hold back your own soft sounds as his lips and tongue move down your neck, and it occurs to you now that there’s so much that the two of you have never done before. So many steps you skipped.

Like the way Yoongi cups one of your breasts in his hand, rolling his thumb over your nipple to earn a louder whine from you. “Shit,” you gasp as he does it again, his mouth still trailing kisses between the valley of your breasts.

“God,” Yoongi hisses against your skin. “You drive me fuckin’ crazy.”

With his thumb continuing to work at one nipple, he takes the other into his mouth, and you can feel the way your arousal is starting to soak through your panties as he sucks firmly at the stiff peak. You arch up into him, and then he’s shifting to roll your nipple between his teeth and tug, and you can’t help it— you flinch and yelp beneath him, overwhelmed.

He quickly pulls his mouth off of you, eyes flashing up to find yours. “Sensitive?”

You nod, face flushing, embarrassed. “A little bit of teeth is okay. Too much hurts.”

“Okay,” Yoongi answers softly. He licks up the underside of your breast to pull the bud of it back into his mouth, and the swirl of his tongue there soothes like an apology. When he just barely grazes his teeth across the sensitive peak, it’s enough to make you keen, your eyes rolling back as they flutter closed.

“Oh, fuck, just like that.”

With a wet noise, he pulls off to switch sides, repeating the firm suction, the drag of his tongue, the slightest brush of teeth. His fingers pinch gently at your other nipple, made slick with his spit, and he keeps working you lazily, unhurried, until your body writhes underneath his.

“Yoongi—” You try to catch your breath, and you run a hand through his hair to pull his mouth off of you. His jaw is still dropped open slightly when he meets your gaze. “Touch me.”

His lips pull into a smug smile. “Told you you’d beg.”

Your grip on his hair tightens in response. “Not begging. Ordering.”

Yoongi tuts gently, like he’s disappointed. “I don’t follow orders, sweetheart.”

As much as his teasing irritates you, a twin smile to his spreads across your face. “I’ll kill you,” you murmur, releasing your grip as he shifts back onto his knees.

It gets harder to focus on your bloodlust when his palms run over the curve of your hips, then press between your legs to part your thighs. “Don’t threaten me with a good time,” he deadpans as his fingers slip under the waistband of your panties and he starts to drag the lace down your legs.

“That’s fucking dark,” you can’t help but laugh as you kick your underwear the rest of the way off.

Yoongi licks his lips, clearly distracted, and you spread yourself wider for him. “This pussy,” he grunts hoarsely, like he’s talking to himself more than you. “Gets so puffy when you want it. All tight inside, too.” He unexpectedly slaps the whole of his hand over your center, and you gasp, your hips jolting up.

You don’t even have time to respond before he’s pressing a finger into you, your cunt squeezing tight enough to reward him with an audible noise as he fucks it in and out. “Fuck,” you groan.

“You get this wet just from having your tits played with, huh?”

The thorough analysis makes you huff a laugh, because he’s not wrong, and it stutters into a moan when his thumb gently starts to circle your clit.

“God,” you manage to choke out, “you’re fucking chatty tonight.”

Yoongi smirks, and you’re not sure why until he speaks again, his voice now pinched in a clear imitation as he withdraws his hand. “I’m sorry, is there somewhere you’d rather I put my mouth?”

Your jaw drops in disbelief as he repeats your own stupid tease from weeks ago back to you. “I’ve changed my mind,” you snap, sitting up a little, and Yoongi glances at you, already in the midst of settling between your spread thighs. “I do still hate you.”

“That’s fine,” he says with a shrug, and then he leans in to lick a thick, wet stripe up your slit. His mouth is immediately dizzying, and you drop your head back against the pillow, overwhelmed.

It’s another thing you’ve never done before, at least not with Min Yoongi. As he repeats the motion over and over, lazy long strokes where he drags his tongue from your entrance all the way up to circle your clit, you mentally kick yourself for every missed chance, every opportunity to have his mouth that you didn’t take.

“What the fuck,” you breathe.

Yoongi just barely pulls off of you, close enough that a string of your arousal is still joined to his lower lip when he speaks. “You’re not the only one with good head game here.”

He dives in again like he’s determined to immediately prove his point, and you shove your legs open wider as he sucks your clit into his mouth.

As much as you’d like to bruise his ego, it’s impossible to keep yourself from moaning when he pairs the firm suction with the press of his index finger back into your tight heat. As wet as he’s made you, he’s easily able to slide a second in beside it now, and your nails scratch helplessly over the sheets beneath you.

“Yoongi,” you gasp as he curls his digits to beckon inside you, stroking over your front wall and easily finding the spot that makes you gush. He does it again and again, like a button press, working up more and more arousal until you’re dripping down his wrist.

Even the way he hums against your pussy sounds like a smirk, but you’re too far gone to care. Yoongi starts to flick his tongue steadily over your clit, matching the rhythm of his fingers pumping into your g-spot, and you can feel the pressure in your core building, a band pulled tight enough to snap.

Your hips buck up toward his mouth in an overwhelmed reflex, and Yoongi’s free hand is immediately there like he was expecting it. His palm presses firmly to your lower abdomen to hold you down and keep you there, and even that feels good too, renders you entirely helpless to his mouth and his hands as he takes you apart.

“Fuck,” you moan, loud and unabashed now. “Fuck, yes, I’m—”

The feeling overtakes you before you can get another word out, and you nearly sob as your orgasm rips through you, your whole body straining hard against Yoongi’s strong hand as he pins you to the bed. The extra pressure on your core pushes a rush of fluid out of your cunt, enough to soak the sheets beneath you as your muscles contract around Yoongi’s fingers.

“Oh my god,” he doesn’t even pull away to groan, and the low vibration of the words against your throbbing clit makes your thighs tremble.

There’s a wet smack of his lips and tongue as he finally relents, the pace of his fingers slowing as he continues to work you through the aftershocks. You desperately try to remember how to breathe as you start to come down.

Yoongi is a fucking sight when he leans back to look up at you: long hair falling in his face, eyes dark with lust, lips and chin slick with your arousal. “Did you seriously just squirt?”

It’s been a long time since anyone has managed to make it happen, and you suddenly feel overwhelmed in a different way. Still recovering, you can barely get the words out. “Shut up.”

“What the fuck do you mean, ‘shut up’? It was hot,” Yoongi grunts, and you’re at least grateful that you don’t have to have the ‘it’s not pee’ conversation right now. He ducks his head down again as he withdraws his fingers, and his tongue drags up the crux of your thighs to chase a few stray droplets. You squirm, oversensitive, your legs nearly snapping shut around his neck, and he takes the cue to back off with a soft laugh.

You’re too spent to fight it when he starts to manhandle you a little, palms slipping under your ass to drag you further down the bed until your hips are flush with his, then encouraging your knees to pull up toward your chest. “Think you can do that on my cock?”

The question sparks something in your core, the first lick of a freshly lit flame, and you prop yourself up on your forearms to better meet his gaze. “Make me.”

Yoongi’s appreciative smile is nearly a snarl, and he shifts lower on the bed to quickly strip out of his pants and boxers. You watch as he starts to crawl back up your body, anticipation tightening in your core, and then a flash of realization crosses his face and he freezes.

“Fuck,” he swears, and your stomach drops.

“What’s wrong?”

“I forgot I’m out of condoms.” Your eyes widen as his gaze meets yours. “Do you have any?”

You shake your head. “Not with me.”

A muscle in his jaw works as he exhales a resigned sigh, and you reach out, one hand finding his bicep to stop him before he leaves. You want it too much, bad idea or not. “Just… fuck me anyway.”

His expression goes deadly serious, and there’s a long moment before he responds. “You’re sure?”

You swallow hard as you nod, your eyes searching his. “Just pull out, okay?” You hate yourself for saying the final word before it even leaves your lips. “Please.”

“Okay,” Yoongi repeats back to you, and his hands press to your thighs again to encourage your knees up as he positions himself between your legs. There’s a feeling humming in the space between your bodies, like the reality of the situation has settled over the both of you. The reckless abandon of the previous moment is gone, replaced with something slower, more hesitant. Heavier.

With your eyes fixed on his face, you feel it first: the weight and warmth of his cock grinding over your slit, sliding easily with how soaked you are. You look down to see it for yourself, flushed dark and hard enough to leak precum, trailing a glossy sheen over your folds as Yoongi guides it against you, one hand gripped firmly to the base. He teases the head of his dick over your clit and keeps it there, and you’re still sensitive enough to whimper at the feeling.

“Please,” you repeat, and he’s too focused to be smug about it. He just nods as he drags his cock back down to your entrance, then braces one hand against your thigh and starts to push in.

You exhale softly at the welcome stretch, familiar made new at the lack of anything between you. You can feel it all: the thick swell of the head of his cock as he eases you open, how he throbs gently as your walls squeeze around him, so tight that you can even feel the prominent veins that trace down his shaft.

You’re still wet and getting wetter from the way he fills you up entirely, your arousal drenching the length of him when he bottoms out with an audible slick sound. His cock twitches, buried to the hilt, and even that barely-there motion is enough to coax a breathy moan from you.

“Shit,” Yoongi laughs softly, and the tinge of humility to his voice makes you glance up at him again. “Not gonna be able to go that fast. Feels too good.”

“It’s okay,” you murmur. “Just…”

The words won’t come. It would mean too much to say what you want, and this isn’t supposed to mean anything at all.

So you don’t say them: you just hook your arms over his shoulders and pull his mouth down to yours. “Just fuck me,” you murmur against his lips. He grunts a low note of appreciation as he kisses you, as he starts to drag his cock out of you just to fuck it back in again.

It’s shallow, it’s slow, it’s nothing like what you’re used to with Yoongi, but it’s good. Good enough to make your kisses sloppy when you trade open-mouthed breaths, good enough to make you tilt your head and slide the flat of your tongue over Yoongi’s unabashedly, like an earned reward.

He pushes your knees up a little more, thrusting deeper this time, and the new angle drags the head of his cock right over your g-spot. You whine at the heavy weight of him, the shudder that ripples through you in response, and he stays there, stroking steadily to rub that spot again and again until your eyes roll back in your head.

“Oh my god, Yoongi,” you gasp into his mouth.

“Shit,” he groans shakily, reaching one hand up to brush his hair out of his eyes. A few dark strands stick to the sheen of sweat on his forehead. “Squeezing me so fucking tight.”

Your arousal coils hot and fast inside of you as he keeps thrusting, and you have to break away from kissing him to tip your head back on the pillow and moan. “Fuck, please don’t stop, I’m—”

It feels like the final second before your climax when Yoongi pulls out, sitting back on his knees between your spread legs with a low groan. The sudden loss of his cock makes your walls clench at nothing, and you whine, petulant. “Yoongi!”

“Sorry,” he mutters, breathless. “Almost came.” You glance up to see him squeezing at the base of his cock with one hand, his chest heaving with effort. Your hips tilt up toward him, jealous.

“I miss your cock,” you whine, fucked close enough to be shameless.

“You’ll get it,” he retorts, and then you feel three of his fingers press in to fill the space he left behind inside of you. “Want to make you come again first.”

You keen as he starts to pump them, wrist angled just right to meet your g-spot each time. “Oh fuck, Yoongi.” The arousal in your core aches as he fucks you open on his fingers, and you can hear how wet you are in the soaked squelch of your needy pussy, can feel it leaking down your thighs.

His thumb brushes over your clit with every upstroke of his hand, and it makes you gasp, your moans starting to pitch higher. “Harder, baby, please, I’m so close.”

Too lost in the feeling, you barely notice when Yoongi laughs a little, but he does as you ask, and the way he pounds into you is just enough to work you over the edge. Waves of pleasure rip through your body as you come for a second time, squirting a little on his sheets again, your thighs shaking violently.

“That’s it, there you go, fuck,” Yoongi groans appreciatively at the sight.

You’ve just barely made it past your peak, still shuddering all over, when Yoongi withdraws his fingers to shove his cock back in again, and you keen.

He thrusts like a man close to his own end, fast and hard, his breath coming in ragged pants of effort and pleasure. Your pussy pulses around him, squeezing like a vice, so swollen with sensitivity that it really does feel like he’s splitting you open every time he fucks into you.

You moan unabashedly now and cling to him all over, legs bracketing his snapping hips, nails of one hand digging into his shoulder, the other hand tangled in his hair. Your cunt throbs and gushes around him as he strokes, and it still feels like you’re coming: you can’t tell if it’s an intensely drawn-out second orgasm or if the hot stretch of his cock worked you seamlessly into a third.

When he finally pulls out, you drop back against the bed with an exhausted groan, every inch of you fucked into oblivion. You can barely focus your eyes to watch as Yoongi shoves his hips up to straddle yours, one hand working his cock until his release overtakes him.

He flattens both palms to the mattress as he starts to come, groaning softly and rocking his hips so that his cock grinds against your stomach. The head of his dick twitches visibly, leaking pulse after pulse of sticky gloss over your skin, and he smears his cock through it as he ruts against you. He keeps going, rolling his hips and rubbing the mess across your stomach until he’s thoroughly spent, until you’re both flushed and sticky all over.

“Holy fucking shit,” is all he can manage when he finally collapses down on the bed next to you.

You glance over at him and nod, trying to imply without speaking that the feeling is mutual. He meets your gaze, and you lay like that for several long minutes of silence as your breathing slows, eyes fixed on each other as your heartbeats race through the comedown.

It’s hard to believe that any part of tonight has been real, and you can’t help but wonder if he’s thinking the same thing.

As the post-orgasm glow starts to settle, exhaustion hits you like a train. You groan, breaking the prolonged eye contact to throw an arm over your face, blocking out Yoongi’s bedroom with the crook of your elbow.

You’re not expecting it when he softly says your name, and something in your gut tells you that whatever’s coming isn’t good. You will yourself not to look back again, to stay as still as a statue when you answer him. “Hmm?”

“You know Jungkook is in love with you, right?”

The plan to not move goes out the window at his words. Your pulse spikes, and you drop your arm to look at him, your face twisted in confusion. “What?!”

Yoongi studies your expression for a second, then makes a small hum of surprise. “Interesting. I figured you were just trying to let him down easy.”

“I— what?”

“You really didn’t know?” He scoffs, and his tone is enough to instantly make you set your jaw. “It’s pretty obvious. It’s funny, I guess he’s sort of inadvertently responsible for all of this.”

That takes a second to sink in, and you blink. “How?”

Yoongi stares up at the ceiling, seemingly nonplussed. “Well, when he asked me for the code to my office, I figured he wanted to take you in there and fuck you.”

Hot blood rushes to your chest, and you sit up a little. “You talked to Jungkook about fucking me?”

“No.” Yoongi blinks. “This was before anything happened. I haven’t told him anything. It was just clear he liked you, even back then, because I have eyes. So I was trying to do him a favor. He’s a good kid.”

You squint, still trying to catch up. “Why would Jungkook fuck me in your office?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know, it’s the only door that locks. Sometimes you get desperate.” You swallow the immediate urge to argue when your brain unhelpfully reminds you that you have in fact fucked Yoongi at the office. Twice.

“But you know, I figured he’d wine you, dine you, all that romantic crap first. I’m sure he’s a very respectable sex on the third date kind of guy.” That all-too-familiar smirk is back when he glances over at you again. “I guess neither of us realized who we were dealing with.”

You open and close your mouth a few times before you can remember how to speak. “I’m not having this conversation with you. Particularly not with your cum still on my stomach.”

Yoongi nods toward the en-suite. “There’s towels in there. Or you can shower if you want.”

Your head spins as you silently slip out of his bed, and you shut the bathroom door firmly behind you, wishing you could leave that entire conversation on the other side of it. Maybe his fancy shower will get hot enough to blast all the thoughts out of your brain, you reason, and it only takes a bit of fumbling with the knobs before you figure it out.

The water pressure is so much better than what you’re used to that you groan a little when you step under the spray. You turn in a semicircle, letting it beat down on your neck and shoulders as you close your eyes, willing the tension to melt out of your body. You really are exhausted, practically asleep on your feet, despite the way your mind is still racing.

You don’t know why you came here tonight. You don’t know what you thought would happen. You don’t know what makes you keep coming back to Yoongi, over and over, like a moth to a flame, like the definition of insanity. You don’t know why he opened up to you tonight, or why you decided to do the same— or what the fuck compelled him to say that Jungkook is in love with you. You don’t know if things are supposed to stay the same after tonight, or if they will be irrevocably different, and you don’t know which you’d even want.

You have no idea what you want, actually. Another drink would be nice.

The sound of the shower door opening startles you, pulling you up from your thought spiral, and your eyes snap open to see Yoongi shutting the door behind him. Without a word, he steps in to crowd you under the water, and you hate the way your heartbeat flutters when he’s close to you.

“What are you—” you try to ask, but you don’t get to finish the sentence before his hand cups your jaw and his mouth finds yours.

His kiss blots everything else from your brain, and in this moment, you’re grateful for it. You lean into him, letting him in deeper when his tongue traces your bottom lip, whimpering softly as his other hand presses to the small of your back to pull you closer.

You don’t know what he wants, either. Why he came in here. But you have a guess.

“Yoongi,” you murmur against his lips. “I can’t again. I’m so tired.”

“It’s okay,” he answers softly, and then his mouth drags you back in like a riptide.

You don’t know how long you stay there like that, kissing him under the steam and the spray, but you’re breathless when you finally pull away to look up at him. Water droplets are twined through his long, dark hair, collecting delicately on his eyelashes, trailing down his neck and over the muscles of his chest.

“You can sleep here tonight, if you want,” Yoongi offers, and before you can even process the words, he’s stepping back to push the shower door open behind him, and then he’s gone.

With the glass fogged over completely from the heat of the water, and the white noise of the fan overhead, you have no concept of when he leaves the bathroom, or what else he might be doing. You just know you feel entirely alone.

After scrubbing yourself thoroughly with a washcloth that you lather in Yoongi’s soap, you emerge from the shower, grabbing a towel from the linen cabinet to wrap up in. It’s weird to smell like him, sandalwood and musk, somehow both comforting and alienating.

When you nudge open the door to his room again, it’s empty, and the inset lighting has been turned off entirely, the room bathed only in the glow of the bedside lamp that’s been switched on.

He’s left out one of his t-shirts for you, and you recognize it as one you’ve seen him in often at work. You remember Googling the label once out of curiosity and nearly passing out at your desk when you saw the three hundred dollar price tag. You pull it on over your head, then return to the bathroom to hang your towel up.

As you slip back into the bedroom, you can’t help but wonder where Yoongi’s disappeared off to, but you’re too exhausted to go looking for him.

Though you figure he’ll be in eventually, your heart still sinks a little as you pull back the covers and crawl into his bed. It feels so much bigger when you’re the only one in it. You decide to leave the lamp on, then turn over to press your cheek to the pillow, and the waves of sleep almost immediately pull you under.

You’re still alone when you wake up in the morning, the other side of the bed entirely undisturbed.

Blinking slowly, it takes you a moment to remember where you are, and then the night comes back to you piece by piece. The lamp on the nightstand is still on when you sit up and swing your legs over the edge of the bed.

Yawning and rubbing sleep from your eyes, you push open Yoongi’s bedroom door and pad down the hallway, trying to make sense of things. You have to retrace your steps all the way back to the living room before you find him, curled up on his side on the couch with one arm tucked under his head, still sleeping soundly.

He looks smaller like this. More vulnerable, maybe.

You wonder if you should’ve asked him to join you in his bed, and you wonder why he didn’t. Worrying your bottom lip between your teeth, you decide to let him rest.

You move through his apartment aimlessly, like a patron in a museum. Something cracks open inside of you as you allow yourself to take in his place undisturbed, and with it, what could be. The idea that a night spent here could feel normal. The two of you in the clearly well-used kitchen, how you might sit on the counter with a glass of wine while he cooks dinner. Talking about your days, about the past and the future. Sharing a life. Fucking and showering and falling asleep in his bed, tangled up together.

For something so close, it feels impossibly far away in the harsh light of morning. It feels like something meant for a much better person than you.

When you make it all the way back to his room, you peel your borrowed shirt off and drape it across his bed like you found it. You retrieve your clothes from last night off the floor and pull them back on.

Thankfully Yoongi chose to fall asleep on the far side of the couch, so when you re-enter the living room, you’re easily able to grab your purse where you set it down the night before without waking him. You slip your heels on in his entryway, then open the front door and shut it as quietly as you can behind you.

You fish your phone out of your bag and scroll until you find Jimin’s contact, then press it to your ear as the line starts to ring.

~*~

You don’t hear from Yoongi at all on Sunday, and you barely see him at work the next few days. You don’t know why it surprises you. It makes sense. You said that night had to mean nothing, you left in the morning without another word, and it’s not like you’ve made any effort to reach out since.

But nevertheless, hurt feelings sit heavy in the pit of your stomach, stinging like salt in an open wound. You’re angry that Yoongi seems to be acting like nothing even happened. You’re annoyed that you have to spend an entire weekend alone with him in Los Angeles. And you’re pissed off that you have so much fucking work to do in preparation for a trip that’s all about him.

You keep your head down and just try to fucking survive. You stay silent in your meetings unless directly asked a question. You type furiously at your desk, forever behind on emails and late on promised deliverables.

The week passes by in a blur, and it doesn’t even occur to you what day it is until you find Jungkook waiting for you at your desk when you return from an afternoon meeting.

“Hi, Jungkook.” You try to say it gently, to not take your frustrations out on someone who didn’t even do anything. While you’ve made polite small talk all week, things certainly haven’t felt normal, and you can’t tell if he senses it too, or if you’re just letting Yoongi’s cryptic words plant imaginary strange vibes in your head.

To his credit, Jungkook seems unfazed. “It’s the last day before your trip!” he says brightly, and your eyes widen as you realize he’s right. “What’s the rest of your day look like?”

You take a seat at your desk and pull up your calendar to check, and he circles around to look with you. “That was thankfully my last meeting,” you respond. “Just getting back to my never-ending to-do list now.”

“Or…” Jungkook prompts, and you glance up to see him leaning forward to rest his elbows on the back of your desk chair, his chin propped cutely in his hands. “You could not do that.”

You blink up at him. “And what would I be doing instead?”

“I was thinking, it’s been a while since we’ve had a walking meeting. Plus it’s actually nice out. So you should take a break.”

Glancing back at your to-do list sends a fresh wave of dread through you, and then you snap your laptop shut with a resigned sigh. “You’re right. Let’s go.”

Not only could you use the break, but you want things with Jungkook to feel normal again, even if the weirdness is only in your head. Maybe this is what you need.

Down in the lobby, Jungkook holds the door for you, and when you step outside, you realize he’s right. It’s one of those clear-sky early spring days, warm enough out that it feels like the world is starting over, like everything is coming back to life. You can’t help but feel like you could use a fresh start, too.

Though you expect to be led somewhere with food, Jungkook takes a different route instead, and you follow him a few blocks over to the entrance of a nearby park. You end up side by side on a paved pedestrian path, the length of which is lined with trees that have only just begun to bud.

It’s quiet, save for the distant noise of the city, the rustle of nature, and the rush of the occasional cyclist whizzing past. You walk slowly as you chat about nothing of importance: work, music, his dogs.

Jungkook glances over at you during a moment’s pause, with a look on his face like there’s a question he’s been waiting to ask. “So how are you feeling about your trip?”

You can’t quite manage to keep your expression neutral, your eyes rolling like a reflex. “Whatever. I just want to get it over with.”

“Ah.” Jungkook nods, and you can see he’s biting back some reaction. “For some reason I thought you might be excited.”

“What do you mean?”

He just shrugs. “I don’t know. You’ve been… different lately. About Suga. I thought maybe something was going on.” An uneasy feeling starts to wash over you.

“Nothing is going on with me and Yoongi,” you say, far too quickly. Jungkook glances at you, his brows pinched together slightly as if he’s unsure what to believe.

“Okay,” he says simply. You hope that’s the end of it, but then he keeps going. “That’s good. I’m glad I don’t have to tell you to raise your standards.”

Heat rushes into your face, caught somewhere between shame and anger. “Um, what does that mean?”

You grit your teeth when he just shrugs again. “I don’t know. He was such a jerk to you, and then suddenly it’s like you guys are hanging out and getting close and stuff—”

“We are not close,” you interject, and you hate how unsteady your voice sounds when you say it.

“Good,” Jungkook responds. “Because I thought maybe you might be, and it didn’t make any sense to me.”

Overwhelmed by his words, you come to a standstill on the pavement, and he makes it a few steps further before he realizes. As he turns back to face you, the words rush out before you can stop them. “I mean, I don’t see how it’s any of your business either way.”

Jungkook’s brow furrows again. “It’s my business because I care about you. He made you so miserable when you first started, so I don’t see how you could just forget about that and be into him, especially when you could…” He trails off and looks down, unwilling to finish the sentence.

“When I could what?” Another fucking shrug, and you can feel the rage inside you simmering now, threatening to boil over. Yoongi’s question comes back to haunt you— you know Jungkook is in love with you, right?— and the pieces start to slot together in front of you.

“When I could be into you?” you press him, taking an accusatory step closer. “Is that what you want to say?”

His gaze flits up to the trees above you, like he’s willing to look anywhere but your face. “No. I don’t know.”

The birdsong in the air has suddenly started to sound a lot more like screaming, and you have to suppress the urge to do the same. Instead, your voice comes out low and deadly serious. “You and I are friends, Jungkook. Just friends.”

“I know we are,” he says softly.

“Do you?” you snap back, vicious now. “Because it sounds to me like you’re jealous.”

“I’m not jealous,” he responds automatically, in the same tone, and you scoff.

“Look me in my face and say it.” You take another step toward him, and his eyes meet yours. He’s silent long enough for you to understand the truth, and all at once, you feel like a fucking idiot.

“Let me make this clear to you,” you hiss. “I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself and making my own decisions. And I do not have to explain or justify them to anyone, including you, because you are not my fucking boyfriend.”

When you spit the final word, Jungkook flinches like you’ve slapped him, but you can’t stop now. You’re so angry, it feels like it’s eating you alive. “When I want your opinion, as my friend, I’ll ask for it. Understood?”

You’ve never seen him look at you the way he does now, his eyes dark, his face twisted into a near grimace. There’s a long pause, and his voice is stilted when he finally speaks. “Yeah. Sorry I brought it up.”

The two of you walk back to the office in total silence, and Jungkook doesn’t try to talk to you again.

~*~

It’s early enough to still be pitch black outside when Jimin pulls up to the curb of your terminal at Incheon Airport.

“Thanks again for driving.” You yawn around the words as you reach down to unbuckle your seatbelt. When Jimin suddenly pulls you in for a hug, you groan at the affection, but he pays it no mind, dotting kisses over your hair that make you squirm.

“Love you, have fun. And be a slut!”

You roll your eyes as you manage to peel him off of you. “Bye, Baby Mochi.”

Slipping on a face mask, you push the door of his car open and climb out of the passenger seat. You swing open the trunk to grab your suitcase, then slam it shut again and step up onto the curb.

Making your way into the terminal, you dig your phone out of your bag to double-check the text from Yoongi, and then you glance up at the sign overhead to confirm you’re right where he said he’d be.

It takes a second for you to realize the person walking in your direction is Min Yoongi. The black baseball cap pulled low over his eyes is certainly not a bad look, but when paired with his black face mask, it makes him almost impossible to identify, or get a good read on. Rolling your suitcase ahead of you, you move toward him, and the two of you meet in the middle.

You wore sneakers today, so he still seems tall.

“Hi,” you say simply, a thousand different emotions swirling in your gut. You do your best to ignore them all.

Yoongi hums a wordless grunt back in response, then turns to face the already bustling security line. You mirror him, and for a moment the two of you just stay like that, like you’re standing firmly in the present and unsure of what might be waiting on the other side.

He gives a tired sigh. “Ready?” You’re surprised to learn he can speak this early in the morning.

“I guess so,” you answer.

Perfectly in sync, you both push your bags forward, stepping carefully toward a weekend that feels impossible to imagine.

chapter seven | masterlist | chapter nine

#yoongi smut #yoongi angst #yoongi x reader #bts fanfic #bts x reader #look down on me like that

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shina913 · 2 years

Text

Coquet, Part 4 | JJK

Coquet, Part 4

\ kō-ˈket Definition: noun. a man who indulges in flirtation.

✫✫✫Coquet Masterlist✫✫✫

Pairing: Escort!JJK x Fem-reader

Rating: M (🔞)

Genre: Fake-dating!AU; Strangers to lovers; fluff; angst; smut

Warnings: cussing; explicit sexual conversations; awkward family dynamic; some anxiety; alcohol consumption; A LOT of sexual tension; vulnerable confessions; very touchy-feely JK; JK in a bathhouse (go figure)

Word count: 5.5K+ words

Summary: On your brother's wedding, you dread traveling to see your family–whom you have successfully avoided for over a year after moving across the country for work. In an effort to save face, you hire an escort to get them off your back and perhaps even make your ex–who happens to be the best man–a little jealous.

A/N: Lots more edging here 😅 sorry!!! But a quick note to say that one of the scenes here was loosely inspired by a scene from “Insecure.” I miss that show so much and saw a marathon of it yesterday. Let me just say that it was the part when Lawrence and Nathan argued about which city had the best BBQ 🤣 Also…tiny callback to Gradation-JK (if you know, you know 😏).

“I don’t understand why he needs to join us. He’s not even–”

“Haru,” Taehyung says calmly. “He’s my sister’s boyfriend. I’m trying to be a good host.”

Haru swipes at the sweat dripping down his neck as he clicks his teeth. The steam room was agitating him more than usual.

“You’re too nice for your own good, Taehyungie. We barely even know the guy. Have you seen him strutting around?” He asked annoyingly.

Taehyung laughs. “Bro–only you would notice something like that. Besides, what’s the big deal anyway? I thought you were seeing somebody?”

He scoffed. “Well, it didn’t really work out but that’s not the point. I’m just saying that I don’t trust the guy.”

“Just let it go,” Taehyung says while leaning against the wooden backrest. “If my sister trusts him, who am I to question that?” He then turns his head sideways to address his friend directly. “Give him the benefit of the doubt. I did the same…to you,” he said quietly before closing his eyes and turning his head away.

Haru shifted uncomfortably, suddenly feeling the room get hotter.

******

“Was it love at first sight? Or was it – oohhhhmygoodd right there…” Mindi moaned as the masseuse worked one of the knots behind her shoulder.

The massage felt good. It didn’t matter that your skin was raw from the body scrub. You wanted to desensitize it. Desensitize it from his touch…

You’re safe with me.

You felt calmer after whatever sort of hypnotism he did on you back in the room. But after that? Whatever anxiety that you felt earlier seems to have lodged onto him.

He was pulling away–or at least, that’s what it felt like, after emerging from the bathroom in his sweats. You barely spoke on the shuttle ride to the bathhouse. You might add that whether he was dressed in oversized joggers or a three-piece suit, it didn’t matter. He still looked hot. It wasn’t fair, really.

The hand-holding when you walked through the facility felt mechanical–even the kiss ‘goodbye’ before you parted ways to go into your own exclusive areas seemed rehearsed. It was nothing compared to the brief makeout session at brunch, which felt ironically more natural even though you were showing off to Haru.

You didn’t know him that well and…maybe it was another layer to the whole ‘package.’ You had no idea. You didn’t know many escorts so had no point of comparison.

So far, everything he’s shown you felt real–even though you kept repeating in your head that it wasn’t. You were fully aware that this was all fake…all for show. You paid for this whole boyfriend experience. But some small part of you–one that you couldn’t brush aside–made you think that…maybe there was a chance that this could be real? He did tell you that he would always be honest with you.

“Honey, you need to relax–you’re so tense,” the masseuse remarks.

“S-sorry,” you mumbled, unaware that your muscles were contracting while you were in deep thought. You took a deep breath, trying to clear your head.

“You think he’s nervous about joining the boys tomorrow night?” Mindi wondered, pulling you back to reality.

When Taehyung mentioned last night that he extended an invitation to Jungkook to his bachelor party, you were understandably concerned. He’d be alone in a room with your brother and his friends…especially Haru. And lord knows what would happen with strippers and alcohol involved.

“Jungkook is very self-assured,” you said nonchalantly. “Mmm,” you groaned as the masseuse kneaded into your tissues. “He can handle himself perfectly around the guys. I’m not worried.”

“He seems very confident,” Mindi says. “I like that. Makes him even sexier…ohhh yes, harder.”

You snorted. “Mindi…” The therapists started to giggle along.

“I mean–seriously, unnie–how does it feel to bang the hottest guy in the room?”

The giggling started to get louder. Thankfully, this spa had semi-private massage rooms and could only accommodate two appointments, simultaneously.

“It’s okay, unnie–Auntie Rose isn’t here. And I won’t tell!”

You couldn’t lie around Mindi. She was like your little sister. Just like her brother, these Park siblings could see right through you. It was a miracle that they haven’t called you out on this whole ruse with Jungkook yet. So you decide to play along and go with the closest ‘honest’ answer.

“A good girl never kisses and tells, Mindi,” you said with a soft laugh. “Now, if you don’t mind. I’m trying to relax here.”

As you closed your eyes, you wondered–how exactly would it feel to bang the hottest guy in the room?

******

“How did you get into the field?”

“You know what, I always saw myself as somebody who wanted to help people–that seems corny,” Jungkook chuckled.

“Not at all,” YN’s dad, Jae, says as he eyed him intently. “That sounds like an earnest goal…and here you are, achieving it.”

Jungkook nodded quietly.

“But surely, it must be difficult to get some time off?” He wondered out loud.

“It is, if I’m going to be honest. But luckily, I’ve been given a bit of leeway at the hospital. I put in a lot of hard work, after all this time,” Jungkook explains to him.

“How do you find a balance? I’m sure your job takes time away from your personal life,” Jimin chimes in.

“It does. And for a while–I didn’t have a personal life to speak of,” Jungkook says with a lighthearted laugh. “At least, not until after I met YN.”

“I just felt this pull from her,” he says wistfully. “Before I knew it, I was shuffling my shift around at the hospital just so I could get out in time to be with her.”

YN’s dad smiles warmly then stops to narrow his eyes at him. “You’re not pulling my leg are you, son?”

Jimin tilted his chin down, eyeing Jungkook intently as well.

Jungkook chuckled but looked Jae straight in the eye. “Sir, with all due respect–I know that I just met you yesterday but I’m here, sitting in a warm pool with you…buck naked, I might add. I’ve got nothing to hide,” he says confidently, then leaning back against the tile, arms spread wide.

After a long pause, your dad lets out a guffaw while Jimin turns his face away, cracking up. “Good point,” he says in between laughs. “You’ll fit right into this family then!”

With that, he laughed along with them, feeling some sort of relief. Your family made him feel at ease. Maybe he didn’t need to hold back too much. He wanted all of his dates to be successful–he has yet to fail at that.

So he wanted this to be good and pull out all the stops…especially since this was going to be his last.

******

The men and women all returned to the resort in separate groups. You caught a later shuttle with Mindi and Jennie, texting Jungkook that you would just meet up back at the hotel.

As soon as you walk through the hotel lobby, Jennie excuses herself to check on Taehyung at the lounge. You waved her off and continued joking around with Mindi, laughing loudly.

“I don’t know–I just didn’t want to call him back. I thought I made it clear.”

“Mindi, if you didn’t want to see him again–why did you tell him he gave good head?”

She scoffed. “I just thought he needed some positive reinforcement–you know…kind of like a letter of recommendation. I was trying to be encouraging.”

You rolled your eyes. “If you just wanted a whole no-strings arrangement, then you should have told him that!”

Mindi made puppy-eyes at you. “Really, unnie? You won’t judge me?”

You smiled warmly at her. “Please…you and Jiminie have seen me at my worst. I’m in no position.”

Mindi smiles at you then suddenly envelops you into a hug. “I’m so happy you’re with Jungkook now,” she pulls away.

You laughed. “That’s great, Mindi…but I still won’t play ‘rate that dick’ with you!”

“Oh come on!” She whined. “It’s the best game ever! I even got Jennie to play along tomorrow–and you know how super uptight she can get.”

Before you could begrudgingly agree, you feel his arm snake around your waist from behind, pulling you towards him and turning you. You see his smiling face and big, round eyes, looking straight at you.

“Uh, hi,” you said, suddenly flustered. Earlier, he seemed distant. But now, it feels as if something’s shifted. You have the time to analyze it as his lips were already closing in on you.

As he pulled away, he smiled at you, leaving Mindi giggling like a schoolgirl before excusing herself. You told her you’d hook up with her later this evening to talk about what else to expect tomorrow.

“You look pretty…loose,” you remarked at him.

“As do you,” he says with a chuckle. “Did you have a nice, relaxing afternoon?”

You smiled at him. “I did. And you?”

You both started to walk towards the elevators, keeping his hand on the small of your back. “Yeah. I hung out with your dad and Jimin for the most part.”

Your eyebrows lifted nervously and your jaw slowly dropped. “Oh wow…and how did that go? W-what did you guys talk about?”

“Not much. We were just shooting the breeze–they were trying to get to know me.”

That stopped you in your tracks in a slight panic. “What did you say?” It occurred to you that you didn’t really go in-depth about his backstory.

“Pretty much what we agreed on…with some embellishments of my own,” he says simply.

Your brows knitted further. “And? D-do you think they bought it? A-are they–”

“There you are, Jungkookie!” Your dad bellows as he walks out of the lounge. “Are you coming back to join us or what?”

He calls back over his shoulder. “I just wanted to make sure that YN got back okay.”

Just then, Jimin comes up from behind him. “We just cracked open the Johnnie Walker Blue, Jay-Kay,” he yells out.

Jungkook laughed. “Alright, alright. Just give me a few minutes. Save some for me!”

“You snooze, you lose,” Jimin says before turning on his heel to walk back, pulling your dad along with him to rejoin the guys.

Jungkook turned to you and smiled. “Does that answer your question?”

You laughed softly, feeling a bit more reassured.

“Would you mind if I hung out with them or would you rather I stayed with you and kept you company? Because I can, you know…if you want me to?” He looks at you with some sort of hope that you’d ask him to stay. But you thought it would be a good idea to capitalize on him getting in your dad, Jimin, and Taehyung’s good graces.

“I’ll be fine–you go and have fun. I think it would be a good strategy for them to get to know you a bit more, don’t you think?”

He nods and gives you a small smile. “Right. I just wanted to make sure you were okay with it.”

“More than okay! I might take a nap before Mindi and I grab dinner,” you said. The scrub, the massage, lounging around the bathhouse for hours–it would be nice to snooze for a bit and relish in all that relaxation.

“Okay. I’ll check in with you in about an hour, cool?”

“Sure,” you said with a smile. Before you continue towards the bank of elevators, he pulls you in closer once more and dips his head to kiss you again. He moved in fast. And truthfully, you saw that coming but didn’t turn away.

It was slow and leisurely. You let out a soft moan, which he took as his queue to slide his tongue in.

All the chaotic thoughts, emotions, and energy that had been swirling inside you, suddenly became too much to contain. Your hand circled around his neck, while his hand cupped your jaw, pulling your mouth closer to his.

His tongue did slow, savoring licks that made you wonder what it would be like to feel him doing the same thing between your legs.

Shocked by your own thoughts, you pull away abruptly, gasping.

Your eyes flickered at him while the room spun. “What was that for?” You managed to choke out.

His gaze was clear and steady. “No reason. I just felt like it. I’ll see you later,” he smirked before turning to walk away from you.

You scan the lobby, wondering if he was just showing off to someone unbeknownst to you. But to your surprise, the coast was clear.

******

You were still on a high from Jungkook’s kiss while you walked back to your room. Seconds later, you run into your mom down the hallway.

“Darling! Did you just get back?” She asks cheerily.

“Yeah, I hung out with the girls a bit longer.” It was as if she had completely forgotten about the events this morning.

“Ah–looks like you did the scrub and oil massage. Your skin looks–I don’t know, more glowy this time!” She grins after a quick assessment of you.

“I did,” you said curtly. She always had something to say–about your skin, your hair, your job…your love life.

“Honey, I’m…I’m sorry about earlier. You know I was only trying to be lighthearted about it.”

You rolled your eyes. “Ma, there’s nothing lighthearted about what I went through,” you said bitterly.

She pursed her lips. “You know I love you, right,” she says, softening her expression as she reaches out to squeeze your arm gently.

“But?”

“What do you mean ‘but?’” She knits her eyebrows in confusion.

“You tell me you love me but there’s always a ‘but.’”

She chuckles softly. “Darling girl, I know that our relationship hasn’t been great–but I hope you know that I’ve always wanted the best for you–despite what you think of me.”

“Sure, ma. Thanks,” you deadpanned.

She gives you a half-hug, which you also half-heartedly lean into. “Alright, well–I’m going to have tea with Dahlia. Would you like to join us?”

“Nah, I was going to take a nap,” you sighed as you tapped your keycard at the door sensor and entered your room.

“Alright. I’ll catch up with you later, okay?” She trailed off as you shut your door. And just like that, she’s burst your bubble again.

******

“I’m actually pretty excited about the seafood buffet this weekend–it was the one thing I asked Jennie for the reception,” Taehyung says proudly.

The guys were gathered around the lounge, drinks and conversation flowing right after dinner. Some were seated by the bar while some were seated by the small tables pushed closer together. A few of them partake in cigars. The level of testosterone in the room was so thick, you could taste it.

“Well…can’t blame you, Taehyungie. We have the best seafood offerings out here,” Haru says as he blows some smoke up at the ceiling.

Jungkook puckered his lips then twisted them wryly. “Mm–I don’t know. I prefer the seafood back home.”

Haru narrowed his eyes at him then scoffed. “There are plenty of good seafood spots out here–ones with Michelin stars.”

Taehyung jumps into the conversation. “No, no…that’s cool–talk your shit, Jay-Kay! The Pacific coast has amazing offerings. I know that when I go visit YN, I always have to have the cioppino out there. And the oysters? Man…” he sighs.

“Come on…the oysters out here are far more superior,” Haru snorts as he takes a swig of his drink.

“Really? I’ve actually tried them before and–they’re not that great, in my opinion,” Jungkook says dismissively.

Haru gets worked up from Jungkook’s comment. “You know, it’s funny you say that because YN used to enjoy them a lot when she used to live here,” he says smugly. “Ate them by the bucketful.”

Jungkook’s lips curve into a smile, keeping his eyes at Haru. “That was then. But… ever since she’s had the ones back home, she says she prefers those now because they taste sweeter. Unlike the ones out here,” he shrugs. “A bit salty.”

Jimin laughs out loud, squeezing Jungkook’s shoulder and clinking his glass against his as Haru’s jaws ticks.

******

You had missed each other earlier in the evening while you, Mindi, Jennie and the rest of her friends had dinner at a restaurant close by.

Hours later, he creeps back into your room. You were awoken by him switching on the bathroom light and the sound of the vent humming.

You stayed up a few minutes more, staring at the ceiling as the shower finally switched off.

When he stepped out, he was dressed in a pair of sweats and not much else. He walked towards the couch and began to fluff his pillow.

You sat up slightly. “Hey,” you called out softly so as not to startle him.

He turned to face you. “Did I wake you?”

You shook your head. “No. I just woke up randomly. I had trouble falling asleep. Figured it might have been the nap I took earlier.”

Or it could have been you thinking about his tongue in your mouth earlier. Nah…it couldn’t have been that.

“Did you have a good time with the guys?”

“Yeah,” he said with a grin. “Your dad and Taehyung are hilarious.”

You smiled. “I hope they didn’t get you too drunk.”

“Nah. They tried…but I know my way around it. They just think that I had a lot to drink.”

You nodded. As he was about to slide under his covers, you stopped him.

“Jungkook–”

“Yeah?”

You tried to steady your heartbeat. “I think–maybe you should sleep on the bed.”

He cocked an eyebrow at you. Sharing a bed with a client wasn’t new to him. He just based it on comfort level. But if he was asked…

“Is that what you want?”

“I mean–I-I was just thinking, you know,” you stuttered, “It’s a big bed…and just in case somebody knocked and–it would seem suspicious if they saw sheets on the couch, don’t you think?”

Sure, YN. That’s what it is…

“Right, but are you comfortable with that?” Jungkook had to ask because he sensed apprehension from you.

“Yeah, I mean–I’m a side-sleeper anyway. A-and–I can put some pillows between us, you know?” You added quickly.

There was no way you could bear that much direct contact with him.

Jungkook bites the inside of his cheek, trying to stifle a smile–thankful it was dark enough in the bedroom. “Okay,” he says simply. He picks up the sheets and pillows from the couch. He deposits the sheets in the overhead shelf in the closet before rounding the corner towards the bed.

You watch him lift the covers on the other side and slide the pillow next to you, making a mini fort. The mattress dips as he sinks in, pulling the covers at his waist.

He turns his head towards you. “If you change your mind–”

“I won’t,” you say too quickly, swallowing hard. “All part of the deal, right?”

“Riiight,” he drags out his reply, his gaze never leaving yours.

You inhaled sharply. “Okay, well…good night,” you say tightly before sliding back down onto your pillow then turning your body to face the opposite direction.

“Good night, YN.” He murmurs.

******

The following morning, you woke up to breakfast–which Jungkook ordered via room service. It was most of your favorites, which he seemed to clearly take note of during brunch yesterday.

“Wow, you didn’t have to do this.”

“You got the coffee yesterday, I figured I’d return the favor,” he says, pulling out a chair for you.

“Part of the package?” You asked.

“I just wanted to do something nice for you,” he replies.

“Oh. Uhm…thank you,” you said as you took your seat. Geez, YN. Why are you such a bonehead?

“Besides…I figured we’d need all of the food and drink we can muster with what they have planned today.”

Yes–today was stag and hen day. Emphasis on ‘day’ as Mindi and Haru had both coordinated day-long events–mostly involving alcohol and other forms of debauchery for the bride and groom. They wanted to maximize that final farewell–or as Mindi says, two big middle fingers–to single life.

While you help yourself to some slices of bacon and eggs florentine, Jungkook’s phone rings. He excuses himself to take the call in the bathroom.

From a distance, you can vaguely hear him speaking in a clipped tone. But you didn’t want to eavesdrop so you continued on with your breakfast.

It took about five minutes when he finally reemerged, sitting next to you and taking a huge gulp of his coffee, phone still clutched in one hand.

“Everything okay?” You asked.

“Mm-hm,” he says as he sets his cup down on the coaster, as he types furiously onto the screen.

“Another client?” You try to sound casual as you take a sip of your coffee.

He looks up from his phone, locks the screen then turns to you.

“No, actually. It’s, uh…personal.”

“Oh.” You shouldn’t sound disappointed. He had a personal life outside of this. He said it himself, he didn’t expect to be an escort his whole life.

“I’m actually not taking clients anymore,” he says as he stows his phone away in his pocket, digging into his eggs.

“R-really?” You sounded too surprised there so you changed your tone to be a bit more nonchalant. “I mean, really?”

He chuckles. “Yeah. I told you, I’ve been out of the game. And…I intend on staying out of it—after this, that is.”

“So, about that…” This was your chance. You had asked him about this on your first night but he brushed it off by redirecting another question to you.

“You said before that your profile had been inactive. But why did you answer my DM?”

He pursed his lips. It looked like he wanted to fib his way through this but you wanted to corner him.

“Honesty, right?” You said, invoking his ‘rule.’

He smiled. “Touché, Ms. YLN.”

“Well?”

“The truth is anticlimactic and…pretty stupid, actually,” he began slowly.

“Try me.”

He inhaled through his teeth, stifling a laugh, then shrugged his shoulders. “I got a new phone and I set it up using a backup file. Somehow, that backup didn’t register the last changes that I made. So on my new phone, my app profile still came up as active. I didn’t think anything of it until I saw the email alerts–from you. I was set on deleting them but then I saw that you left a voice message.”

“What, did I sound too desperate or something?” You tried to laugh it off.

“I thought it was the opposite.”

Your smile slowly faded.

“You sounded…hopeful. It was refreshing for me, in a way–after not picking up any jobs for a while,” he shrugged, looking down at his plate.

“The majority of my clients hire me because they want to show off. But you?” He lifted his head and narrowed his eyes, as if trying to figure you out. “It sounded like you just needed,” he paused for a beat, then sighed, “‘Me’.”

You didn’t realize how loaded his last statement was. Yes, you needed him–for a purpose. Not to show off but to help keep yourself together and deflect some of the embarrassment and insecurities. A sort of shield, if you may.

//FLASHBACK

“Cris, it’s been like, two weeks and he hasn’t responded. I think I should take this as a sign.”

“Girl, no! Don’t do that! You need to borderline harass him!”

“Fuck, are you crazy? I don’t want to sound desperate! I’m just going to have to face the music here–I’m just gonna go alone, grit my teeth while my mother embarrasses me and people give me their sad looks while Haru stands there unscathed.”

“Babe, maybe he’s just busy…” she tries to reason.

“No, no. This was a stupid idea. I shouldn’t have done this. There’s a ‘call’ option here so I’m just going to let him know that I’ve changed my mind and to forget the whole thing. No harm done!”

******

“Hi,” you said shakily. “I know, I sent you a couple of messages and I realize that you probably needed a longer lead time than three months. I…” you paused. “I’m going to level with you. I only hoped that I could bring somebody emotionally removed…somebody who–won’t feel sorry for me despite my sad situation. I just need somebody whom I can lean on and just straight-up tell me to get my head out of my ass.” Your voice started to crack but you realized that nobody was listening on the other end so you cleared your throat.

“Anyway! I’m sorry to bother you with all that, over a recording–my god,” you said, mortified. “Uh, yeah so…y-you don’t have to get back to me. I just–wanted you to know that I’m…I’m good. Thank you for…considering. Uhm…bye.”

//END FLASHBACK

******

You cringed, vaguely remembering your rambling voicemail to him. You sounded pathetic. Maybe he did take some pity on you after all.

“Like I said, I wanted somebody who wouldn’t feel sorry for me,” you laughed uncomfortably.

“I didn’t feel sorry for you–not at all. I called you back because I felt that I could help you.”

“And I’m sure you needed the money,” you scoffed under your breath.

He tilted his head subtly. “Sometimes it’s not always about the money.”

You stared at each other intently. You haven’t had much experience with people who have been hired for ‘special companionship.’ If this was a norm for them or not–having some sort of connection with clients.

You thought it was all part of the deal–some physical and emotional support? Kind of like a shrink? They sure charge for time like shrinks do.

You were guarded–mainly because he was a stranger to you.

A stranger whom you’d shared kisses and intimate touches with. A stranger whom you just shared a bed with!

He’s gotten a preview of your insecurities and taken a glimpse of the reasons for them.

“Why did he break it off?”

Your brows lifted at the question about how things ended with Haru. At the heart of it, Jungkook was still a complete stranger to you. You shifted in your seat a little but decided to answer him anyway. It didn’t feel like he was asking to be invasive. He wasn’t Cris or Mindi–whom you spent nights and some days on the phone, sobbing while asking ‘why,’ repeatedly.

He wasn’t privy to the heartbreak and confusion that ate you up for the better part of a year.

“I don’t know, really,” you began. And that was God's honest truth. “We were together for six years even though we’ve known each other since we were kids. We were engaged for close to two years and then, out of the blue, he says that he’s made a mistake and didn’t really see us having a future together.” You threw your hands up in defeat. “And…that was that.”

“Did he give you a reason why?” He asked.

“He gave me ‘a’ reason…which I didn’t really buy. Then again, I didn’t want to force him to stay. He seemed to have his mind made up. There’s nothing sadder than a woman begging a man to stay…” They were words your mother lived by.

“You’re sure he didn’t just knock some girl up or something deeper than that?” He looks at you pointedly.

You laughed. “I mean…I don’t know. That would be a really cruel joke if he did.”

He nodded. “It would. Not impossible though,” he points out.

“I guess.” You relented. “Sometimes, I think that even after all these years, maybe I didn’t really know him.”

He sighed before he asked his next question. “And you want him back?”

You shrugged. “Haru…he was my first love. He made me feel safe. He was familiar. I felt like I could really be myself around him.”

His eyebrows quirked. “Is that right?”

“Yeah, why?” You scrunch your face at his skepticism.

“Because…if you ask me, I feel like you are anything but yourself around him.”

Now it was your turn to raise your brows at him. “Oh, so you’re saying that you know who I really am?”

“It’s not hard to guess. I see the way you interact with your brother and your cousins. You’re loud, inappropriate—“ He raised his eyebrow at you.

You give him an offended look.

Seeing your face, he chuckled. “But…you are also funny, sweet, and caring. I can see that you love with your whole heart. And the way you laugh—“ he stopped short.

During the brief interactions he’s seen between you and your brother and cousins, your laughs resonated from the depths of your belly. You didn’t hold back. But whenever Haru walked by or was in close proximity, he saw you shrink like a violet. It was as if you were a different person.

With Haru out of the picture, you were as genuine as you could be. As someone whose business thrived off of fake shit, Jungkook appreciated that about you…so much so that you intrigued him even further.

“And what about my laugh?” You ask him pointedly.

He returned your gaze, the corners of his mouth twitch a little. “Just as loud...but authentic,” he said softly.

You scoffed. “Oh, so you’re a laugh expert now?”

He shrugged his shoulders, trying to sound noncommittal. “You can tell a lot about a person just by the way they laugh. If they’re just being polite, mean-spirited…or just real.”

You regarded him intently. You didn’t realize how…introspective he could be.

“Plus, it’s part of my job to be observant. I need to be able to react quickly and smoothly without any prompting or obvious instructions from my clients. It helps sell the fantasy,” he adds.

Oddly, his explanation made a lot of sense to you. So you decide to turn the question onto him. “And what about you?”

“What about me?”

“Who is the real Jungkook? What is your true self? I mean…when you’re not fulfilling women’s fantasies.”

He laughed softly. “Nobody’s ever asked me that.” His head bowed and he got quiet for a bit. He chewed at his bottom lip and subtly fidgeted with his lip piercing.

You tilted your head to the side. “Well? Will you answer? Or is that going to cost me extra,” you tease him.

He lifted his head to look up at you. “I’ll answer that…for free,” he grinned.

You shifted where you sat and awaited his response.

He exhaled sharply. “Despite my chosen line of work, I’m a huge fan of honesty…in every aspect of my life.”

“Huh. Okay...” It felt a little anticlimactic but he was being vulnerable and you appreciated that.

He laughed. “I know it sounds boring, but it’s one thing I try to live by. Which was why I told you from the outset…that we need to be completely honest with each other.”

“Right. Before we lie to everyone else,” you said ruefully.

He smiled. “The irony isn’t lost on me. But like I said, I’m entering into, for lack of a better term,” he gestures air quotes with his hands—“A ‘business partnership’ with you. There has to be some trust and integrity there. Otherwise, we can’t be successful at this.”

There he was, sounding professional again. The constant shifting in personas wasn’t lost on you. It’s been almost three days of this. One minute, he’d be sweet and he would sound so sincere–calming you down, getting you breakfast…or kissing you ‘just because he felt like it’. And then, at a drop of a hat, he would go into this whole spiel of his business practices.

You nodded–it was all you could do. Trust and integrity were hard to come by these days. And if someone—even one whose living is typically built on lies—uses it as some sort of guiding principle, that was good enough for you. At the end of the day, you felt that you trusted him.

“I agree. On all counts,” you smiled.

He smiled back, suddenly changing tact. “So—you ready to get this bachelorette party rolling or what?”

You laughed. “I don’t know. Are you cool tagging along with the guys during whatever craziness they have planned?”

“Are you undermining my skills?” He asks you pointedly.

That look he gave you lit a fire in the base of your belly, making your cheeks heat up.

“Uh, no. Not at all,” you said simply, trying to calm your stomach down from doing somersaults. You purse your lips. “You know there’s going to be strippers there, right?” You said, trying to sound as if you didn’t care.

He cocked an eyebrow at you and lowered his voice. “Would you like to impose restrictions on me? Look but don’t touch?”

You coughed, trying to catch your breath. “N-no! Not at all! I mean…go have fun! It’s a party, after all!” You wave your hands around aimlessly, as if trying to shake off this tense energy.

He laughed. “It’s fine if you want to. And I assure you, I can and will conduct myself appropriately,” he smirked. “I’m loyal to one woman after all,” he says, taking your hand, holding it up to his lips to kiss it.

You wanted to believe that, really. And maybe–if you got enough liquid courage in you tonight, you could make a quick stop at the ATM. It would be a shame if all those condoms were to go to waste.

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weerd1 · 1 month

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ENT Rewatch Starlog, 18 March, 2024: Episode 3.16 “Doctor’s Orders”

Phlox and Porthos walk through an apparently empty NX-01, stopping to visit Captain Archer who lies asleep with a device on his forehead.

Flash back to a few days before and there is an area of spatial anomaly brought on by the spheres between them and Azati Prime. It would add a lot of time to go around, and if they go through damage the human minds. Phlox suggests that he would not be affected. He’ll put all the human crew into a mental stasis while Enterprise crosses the area of space.

At first, Phlox is having a fine time, getting caught up on writing to friends, playing with Porthos, occasionally feeding his pets in the nude. But while watching a film, he hears something moving.

Tracking it through the ship he ends up in the shuttlebay, and indeed finds T’Pol—also not sedated—who doesn’t know what he’s hearing. The incidents get worse, and Phlox sees Xindi insectoids on board. T’Pol finds nothing, and suspects Phlox is having some sort of breakdown, possibly based on loneliness considering how social Denobulans are. He insists on checking the ship with a phase pistol, and upon almost blasting Porthos, begins to realize that maybe she is correct. He scans and finds that in fact there is a non-lethal, but potentially hallucinogenic effect in his brain.

He prepares to put himself under and leave T’Pol in charge since they will be through the region of space in six hours, but she begins to panic, also suffering from the anomaly. Worse, the area has expanded faster than anticipated, and though Tucker said they shouldn’t, the ship will have to warp to escape. Phlox and T’Pol bumble through with her seemingly useless.

They do escape however, and once free, Phlox’s mind is restored. He wakes up Archer, and before going on to the crew escorts T’Pol to her quarters. There he finds the Vulcan sedated; the T’Pol he has been talking to has also been a hallucination.

A fun episode that makes you feel like it’s falling into the helpless T’Pol trope, but is saved in the reveal that she couldn’t help because she isn’t real. It does turn out to be a nice exploration of Phlox’s character and a good way to do a bottle show while still getting the overall arc to move along. I do wonder though is Phlox hallucinates almost shooting Porthos; the Beagle forgives him pretty quickly.

Nice callbacks as well to the earlier episode “Dear Doctor” with Phlox’s friend Dr. Lucas getting a letter. We’ll of course get to meet the good doctor in Season 4 during the Augments story arc.

Also a fun line when Phlox suspects he’s hearing things because the week prior, Trip showed him “The Exorcist.”

Next Voyage: Archer has to determine whether all his eggs go in one basket after Enterprise finds a Xindi Insectoid “Hatchery.”

(Images taken from the main website for @trekcore; I am happy to remove the images if asked.)

#star trek #star trek Enterprise #Enterprise #Enterprise rewatch #Doctors orders #phlox #t'pol #xindi saga #Enterprise season 3

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jadelotusflower · 5 months

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Stargate rewatch: 1x17 Solitudes

aka episode of the blurry/dark screenshots. What is this, Game of Thrones?

A Brad Wright episode, and the debut of the franchise’s most prolific director Martin Wood.

Jack and Sam bond over his broken bones and her inability to make a splint, heh.

It’s Siler! aka Dan Shea, RDA’s stunt double and later Stunt Coordinator.

Hammond giving him half the time Siler says it will take to fix the Gate and Siler going “it doesn’t work that way sir” is great, nice subversion of a trope.

lol, how many times do we get an extreme close up on Daniel’s face and a blurry pov shot of him waking up from being k’o-ed on this show? A lot, I can tell you.

Sam correctly identifies their situation (option 2) but gets stuck on the probabilities of the SGC finding them, leaving Jack to be the optimist. Nice callback (unintentional or not) to him sarcastically telling Samuels in 1x02 to “let me be the optimist for once.”

Sam then deduces that the matter steam jumped to a different but nearby Stargate, just as Daniel comes to the same conclusion. Wonder Twin powers, activate!

At least they got good lighting in the close ups!

The gang's all here - even Harriman (who as this point is just Airman/Technician).

I do love it when they use the plexiglass map.

What is Siler’s job anyway? Chief engineer?

Sam identifies this symbol (far right) as the point of origin on the DHD. We later learn this Gate was the original one used by the Ancients and this could conceivably be an Alteran-esque symbol since we know their written language is block based and their aesthetic is heavy on the circles. It could represent a sun and a pillar, or maybe a Stargate itself.

It does explain away a bit of a plot hole with Earth’s point of origin being a pyramid if the gate was built pre-Ra. It makes more sense that this is the original Earth point of origin and the other was built/chosen later.

Oof Jack coughing up blood onto the snow.

Why Sam doesn’t try to dial any addresses other than Earth - la la la don’t think about it. Sam's brain too cold to function I guess?

Or maybe the DHD has something else wrong with it? We learn later that connecting the DHD designates that gate as the primary gate on Earth, so really the SGC gate shouldn’t be working at all if Sam is trying to use the Antarctic gate.

Nice little moment where Sam says that if they don’t make it she won’t have any regrets, and Jack says he’ll regret dying - a good reflection of both their characters.

Daniel with his ever-present coffee, but this time with good reason. There’s a cool shot of him in the control room worrying, tracking up to Hammond in the briefing room worrying. Martin Wood loves a tracking shot. I love a tracking shot too.

I also love how interactive the set is, the gate room, viewing room, briefing room, and Hammond’s office are all connected allowing us to move through the set as if it were a real facility.

“I should have gotten you out of here by now.” Aw, Sam! Telling language through use of “you” and not “us.” She’s the problem solver but can’t solve the problem, and even though Jack is in command, given his injury she’s now the one who feels responsible for him and his safety when usually it's the other way around.

Amanda Tapping is great in this episode, we don’t often see Sam so frustrated, unable to push through to find the answer.

Also a tender moment when Jack calls out for Sara and Sam, having been told earlier that Sara is what got him through a similar situation, giving him the comfort of “I’m here, Jack.”

Uh oh, I think that means there’s a T-Rex around!

“We ruled out a world we shouldn’t have.” Daniel thinking forth dimensionally again! Even separated the team are still working together, the juxtaposition of Sam trying and failing to the dial the gate but Daniel still receiving the message is great.

Ah, I love it when they work a retcon into the plot! The SGC installed “frequency dampeners” that stopped the shaking of the gate (and made the trip through smoother/less cold), so the shaking now is unusual and helps them solve the mystery.

Aw, Hammond going along with the rescue party. He’s well and truly Papa Hammond now!

#stargate sg1 #stargate rewatch #1x17 solitudes

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disasterbijamietartt · 11 months

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It hurts my heart how excited and happy Jamie was to go for a beer with Roy and whennRoy said how proud he was of him. I'm preferring to ignore the following part, but it did make me happy them realising they were being stupid and going for a kebab so Im hoping that was just a stupid lapse of sense. Although it is making me side eye Roy especially for behaving that way knowing Jamie's past.

Ugh, yes, the latter half of the bar talk really didn't sit right with me.

It started out so great, but then it made a u-turn …

You know, I understand why they brought up the love triangle with Roy and Jamie, since their feelings for Keeley was something that was still standing between the and that they needed to talk about, but I didn’t like the execution of them getting needlessly sexist about it (bringing up the sex tape, really? And Roy’s whole “stay away from her, we are talking again so she is clearly mine — although, women, who understands them?”).

I could even accept the fist fight as some sort of necessary catharsis for them, if it wouldn’t be for Jamie’s history with abuse and him just two minutes earlier saying how Roy gave him something positive he didn’t get from the other older men in his life. (I’ll assume Simon wasn’t that much into football, so he wasn’t as motivational and didn’t train with him etc., otherwise just … ouch.) And the thing is also, all of Roy’s jealousy aside … they never actually fought over Keeley, which was the part I found so refreshing about the way the love triangle was handled. But, yeah, I can see how there was some lingering animosity that had to get settled before they truly could be best friends. But they could done that without actually fist fighting …

The whole asking Keeley to choose thing was … quite arrogant of them and icky, but good for them to realise they were being idiots and that it apparently didn't mess with their friendship.

Still, I would have preferred if they hadn't come to the conclusion, that Keeley should chose (with her choice being neither for good reason), but that they had used this opportunity to talk with her about their feelings for her and that they needed to know where they were standing with her to find closure. And then them having an actual conversation adressing their conundrum and how it would be best for all of them to stay friends, yadda yadda.

Like, the thing that annoys me most is, that we didn’t get a follow up, no apology to Keeley for acting so stupid. She kicked them out, which was the right thing to do, but I'd wished they had actually talked things out.

It is nice to have it so open that you can interpret it whichever way you want, but after seeing the trio's blooming friendship last episode this felt like such a step back in their relationship. I just would have loved to get a little bit more resolution, to have them properly established as friends.

Especially if you read the montage as something only happening in Ted’s dream—like, that is the only way I can excuse Beard’s and Jane’s wedding (with Ted not being present on top?) and Jamie visiting James and laughing with him. (I saw so many people on reddit being moved to tears by Jamie reconciling with his “dad”, like, yeah, applause for years of abuse and trauma being ignored in order to get a sappy ending. Like, if the show had at least acknowledged the abuse and shown James taking accountability, BEFORE Jamie decides to reconnect, but yeah, no one has to ever be accountable to Jamie, soo … And it is especially upsetting considering they added sexual abuse to the long list of James’ crimes just to … completely drop this, as if it didn’t matter. They could have made Jamie’s first trip to Amsterdam traumatic in other ways, if the contrast between bad trip with dad and good trip with mum was all they wanted to accomplish …)

On a side note: Jamie enjoying and missing drinking beer threw me off, since he never seemed to be too fond of alcohol, but they probably wanted to get the Darsteiner callback in. Way more important than consistent characterisation.

#ted lasso spoilers #jamie tartt #roy kent #keeley jones #my answers

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aftermath-askblog · 8 months

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("Hmmm, I should work on my askblog" proceeds to draw AUs of my AU

information under the cut)

From left to right

-Champion City PAMA. Not much info on this idea, it's really just a little thing that nibbled my brain once and I wanted to doodle it as a funny little outfit test. I suppose it's what happens when you redeem PAMA, but don't really care for or help them. I suppose it'd be more logical for them to move to Redstonia (I may draw that later LOL), but could you imagine the PAMA Radar rivalry??? They're sort of like a replacement Radar to Stella, and end up just becoming weirdly toxic kinda like her. Maybe they move there to spite Jesse in this hypothetical LOL. If Stella is redeemed PAMA could still go >:( to Jesse depending on how they treat them. Idk, didn't think it out too much.

-This is basically just, what if Aftermath was a happy fluffy fic where nothing bad ever happens. I like to think if Jesse were to tell PAMA that life is really meaningless and you have to find meaning, they'd swallow that pill a lot earlier/quicker and eventually, with the help of Jesse and later Radar, find meaning in the small/happy things in life. I like to think they and Nell would get along and the two of them, along with Radar, would have a really cute friendship. PAMA, as a result, wouldn't push themselves to be useful, and find fulfillment in other things. Basically, they live happily ever after, and everything is nice and chill :) I also went a lil nuts with this design, taking inspiration off the clothing in Crown Mesa and Nell's clothing, but more blue twinged. Maybe I'll doodle the full design someday??

-Oh boy. Champion PAMA. This is a doozy so fasten your seatbelts y'all. Basically, if you dawdle too long on taking the clock in episode 2, PAMA will get impatient and do it themself. Which leads to two incredibly interesting things 1-Romeo being absolutely confused but also just shrugging and saying "What? Hey, I can work with this. You took initiative! That's a good trait for a Champion!" and 2-Petra and Jack being in prison together, which is not something I'm 100% sure how to work with but hey. I like to think Jack is worried for PAMA's safety while Petra is worried PAMA will revert to their old ways. Romeo could hypothetically reprogram them, but that'd be boring! Better to train them the old fashioned way, eh? Cue a freakout when PAMA is brought to fight Jesse. Radar is incredibly distressed, Petra feels like her worst fears have been realized, and Jack is just... shocked. PAMA hesitates at attacking at first, like usual, but starts before Romeo can do anything. If Jesse refuses to fight PAMA, they act shocked, and unsure, while if Jesse attacks PAMA, they take it with barely any reaction, just slouched sadness. They do do the whole "Pretending to attack Jesse to get to Romeo" thing and mention how good the odds are (as a callback to their bossfight.) to which Jesse will respond "I like those odds" the fight goes as normal afterwards. Later, Radar and PAMA reconvene and Radar is so excited to see PAMA. PAMA is unsure what to make of the whole "Prison Radar" thing but compliments his attempt to be fierce. PAMA does ask for a catch up on the whole thing and mentions how they thought everyone had essentially abandoned them while they were stuck in Terminal Space, and that they were just... doomed to make another mistake as horrible as the incident in Crown Mesa. Petra is a little unsure how to feel, Jack feels upset for PAMA, and Radar is so god forsakenly distraught that he could win an olympic medal in it. Jesse can either reassure them or not at this point. PAMA is unsure how to feel about Xara. She's interesting to them, sure, lots of layers and stuff, but they also don't know whether to trust her, be scared of her, or be scared for her. It nearly puts them into Paradox Status a few times LOL. PAMA's (metaphorical) stomach drops when Radar makes eye contact with the Enderman. They try not to fret about it, but they keep thinking about it. PAMA finds themself sort of relating to Xara in some sense, while also finding her fascinating (all those stories!) but also nerve-wracking because she's. Well. Yeah. PAMA loves Fred's Keep! They're nervous at the amount of water, but afterwards they basically are incredibly excited. PAMA wants to do the trivia contest, but unfortunately Jesse is still the main character. Binta does promise to run one that PAMA can participate in once she makes it to the surface. The most likely thing is PAMA stays in Fred's Keep for a bit, listening to all of Jack's stories if he's there. Maybe they come to Romeoburg with you if Jack doesn't come to Fred's Keep? PAMA sees Ninja Ivor and is basically just going "...Why do I recognize this guy?" The whole time. Ivor also does a double take, trying to figure out if he's being tricked or if the real PAMA is down there. Afterwards they have a lil reunion :) Bringing PAMA to Romeoburg is kinda funny because if Jesse mentions the "giant computer" PAMA will comment about it being a stalemate, to which Jesse will rebut that they had PAMA's heart in their hands, leaving PAMA in frustrated silence. PAMA enters the challenge with the group just to panic at the first sight of water and run out. Afterwards, if you brought Lluna, they'd appear on her back, leaving everyone to go "What." PAMA is not at the cabin scene, they just end up hanging out with Radar and looking around. Afterwards, when Xara mentions being "Inefficient" near the end, PAMA sits still in shock for a moment. PAMA freaks out when Radar mentions wanting to sacrifice himself to the Enderman, and if you let Radar stay PAMA basically has to be dragged into the portal.

Afterwards maybe they stay with Axel and Olivia in the shop after you come to the surface? Maybe help with the Fireworks Union and then leave with Binta/Radar? They kinda get phased out of the plot at that point. As you can see in the drawing, PAMA is constantly tired and all that. Also I noticed Champion Armor is basically just. Someone's clothes but converted into armor, so it sort of keeps their patterns. Funky detail, so I took that and made PAMA's patterns spikier, including those on their bandana.

-Finally, Guest PAMA! Underneath stuff happens mostly the same, it really just differs in episode 3. PAMA is basically just leverage for Radar, to keep him in check, and they probably end up getting a cracked screen or something similar. Maybe it'd be determinant on whether you encourage Radar to rebel? PAMA is constantly telling Radar not to worry, that the damage is merely cosmetic and that he shouldn't let people take advantage of him, but it still doesn't stop him from feeling awful and guilty.

Hoo boy that's a lot.

#mcsm #minecraft story mode #ooc #miscellaneous #using gender neutral terms for Jesse in this bc it's a buncha aus and I have'nt decided on a particular Jesse for each au. feel free to ima #ine whichever jesse u want #WAIT HOW COULD I FORGET CHAMP!PAMA'S SCREEN WOULD BE RED

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punz4lyfe · 1 year

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Pokemon Journeys Episode 138 Review

Pokemon Journeys Episode 138. Let’s review:

This was a pretty nice episode.

As many speculated, Misty (and Brock next episode) has returned to this series for Ash’s last run in the show, calling back to the original trio in the Original Series. Nice route to follow! And for some reason, it feels kinda relaxing to see Ash in his Journeys getup interact more closely with other traveling companions. Don’t know why, hard to explain.

And for this episode, Ash’s rotated four are Totodile, Corphish, Leavanny, and Rowlet. Their involvement in this episode was alright, not as badass as the last bunch, just a bit more mellow. But that honestly fits better for this episode’s plot. Was especially great to see Corphish’s brash attitude again and how he reflects off his trainer. And his interactions with Clauncher were really cute! Leavanny and Rowlet’s little background interactions were adorable as well, nice to see Leavanny’s parental personality again. Totodile really didn’t do that much, but it was still fine seeing his little dancy and chubby self again.

And before anyone asks, yes, I am okay with Misty beating Ash at the end of the episode. Here’s why:

1. This wasn’t an official battle, so obviously one victory isn’t going to Misty anywhere near Ash’s greatest potential.

2. Ash ESPECIALLY wasn’t at his best because it was a 1v1.

3. Misty referred to Ash’s World Champion victory earlier and called him “Champion”, so it’s clear she herself knows that Ash is at a higher league than her.

4. Corphish most likely wasn’t at his best either. Ash said himself that he hasn’t been at the sea for a while AND before the battle, he already took the effort to traverse from the shore to Team Rocket’s sub without anyone noticing and help Clauncher blast them away, which all probably took a lot of energy.

5. Let’s be honest, if Ash had used Pikachu, Leavanny, or Rowlet, they would’ve bodied Politoed. And Ash didn’t really had much of a choice due to Corphish’s close kinship with Clauncher.

6. Even with his loss, Corphish still shown exceptional skill, even as a Pokemon that’s most likely super rusty right now. He even had two new moves.

and 7. I personally didn’t want Ash to catch a new Pokemon since, as I’ve explained before, he already has enough Pokemon to showcase before his final run ends, so why make the cast even more bloated than it already is?

And speaking of Misty, her interactions with Ash were great as well. Glad that Psyduck is basically an outside mon now and her having Azurill again is a nice callback to Togepi. (even though it would make perfect sense for Azurill to have been evolved at this point) Glad that she’s also getting some progress for her development by having her leave the gym to her sisters so that she can travel like Ash herself.

So overall, I’ll give this episode a 9/10. Nice little mellow episode.

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lovecolibri · 2 years

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Things that Spark Joy-4x12

Again this will mostly be Malex focused because how could it NOT be, but there was also some other good stuff this episode as well! As always, salty thoughts are here, but lets get into all the joyful goodness!

It was nice getting a classic Liz voice-over again!

We also got a few good Echo moments which was nice because I really liked them in the beginning but the writing just could not deliver and sent them in circles more often than not. But Jeanine and Nathan are great and play well off each other so it was nice to see them on the same side of things and working together and supporting each other. His love for Liz being his anchor was a good callback to season 1.

Kybel was SO CUTE this episode! Just staring at each other and grinning like idiots until Max interrupts at which point Iz definitely had an “if looks could kill” moment. I haven’t been thrilled with them sidelining Kybel most of the show only to cram it all in now, but that’s partly due to just how fun Trevino and Lily are to watch together and I wanted so much more of it all along the way! At least the show doesn’t look like it’ll leave them hanging in limbo forever. The big kiss was cute too and Jeanine’s initial reaction, her shocked Pikachu face, and Liz’s continued badgering of Kyle for info was a nice reminder of how far that friendship has come.

Kyle also continues to be the heart and steady rock of this group. Every scene he’s in is so good and I just love his character so much. He’s so encouraging of Isobel, and Rosa and especially Liz this episode. He’s gentle with her, while also not letting it slide when he sees something is wrong. I know I talk a lot of shit about this show and the plots never making sense but I really do love Kyle and I wish they had utilized him better throughout the show because he really is an amazing character.

I’m not...particularly thrilled with the addiction storyline for Liz or how it was handled but I LOVED getting Rosa/Kyle/Liz scenes! They’re siblings and we should have gotten more of them together when Rosa first came back but it was nice to get it before the end of the show. Also Rosa’s line to Liz about Liz needing to realize she needed help before anyone could truly help her was a good lesson for someone like Liz who has been so independent and taking care of herself and everyone else for so long.

We also got some pod squad scenes again which while brief, were nice and hopefully we’ll get some more in the finale of the three of them working together.

Max taking that cheap shot at Clyde was all of us in that moment

Loving Dallas and Michael’s relationship and how it’s grown! Michael picking him up and bodily moving him to safety was sweet. It’s going to be so good to see Dallas happy when he performs the wedding this time because you could tell he was putting on a front earlier.

And now it’s time for ALL THE MALEX GOODNESS! This episode allowed Tyler and Vlamis to do what they do best and deliver gut punches, epic speeches, tenderness, and jokes, all wrapped up with love. The show sidelining them and not letting them have the majority of their scenes together over the past 4 seasons has been one of the biggest mistakes this show has ever made, but at least even with the mess they were given, Tyler and Vlamis absolutely delivered a whole meal this episode! They make us believe all the things we didn’t see or the show didn’t build up to because they are absolutely magic together.

We all know how everyone, included Tyler and Vlamis feel about that banner, BUT taking the words away, the sentiment is Dallas and Bonnie in this post-apocalyptic hell-scape trying to make something festive to celebrate what should be a joyful moment but it tainted by grief, and as such it’s incredibly sweet and makes me tear up as long as I don’t actually read the banner. I love that they found some music to play too, just trying their best to make something special with what they had

Michael refusing to let what should be the happiest day of their lives happen in grief and turmoil instead was EXACTLY the kind of energy I expected from him. Though NGL, Alex saying “don’t let me die without marrying you” would have been the kicker for me, but we got to see Michael building on what he learned in season 2, that he can say “no” and topping it off with a vow that he will not let Alex die and he WILL marry him, at home. He knows what Alex wants and what he wants and he is READY to fight for it.

Plant Daddy Guerin!! We’ve been knew he wanted to study agricultural engineering and with the tidbit we got about Nora causing the field at the Long farm to grow, it was nice to have this moment letting us see Michael’s genius as well as the tie to his mom. Plus Michael and Alex making innuendos and smiling and giggling at each other is adorable and I love it so much for them.

If we don’t get to at least see a glimpse of Malex getting to take a long hot shower when Alex is healed (or sitting in a bath, I am NOT picky) I’m going to riot. Them being so open about their affection and desire for each other has been SO good to see this episode! And around other people too! They deserve some time for comfort, relaxing, and tenderness after all they’ve been through..

We got SO many sweet, soft, casual touches with Malex this episode! Like, yes Michael is helping Alex walk because he’s sick and hurt, (and even without that you know they’d be wrapped up in each other anyway) but Alex is letting him because he trusts Michael with this part of himself. We also got cheek brushes, and chin brushes and just near constant touching which is exactly what I expected from them and exactly what they both deserve.

The way Michael gently chided Alex about how bad the situation was for him and made it clear that with everything going on, he’s choosing Alex and being with him because it’s the most important to him, was so good! He had the tone of voice *almost* like talking to a child (”every minute is like being in a microwave for you”), but it comes across more like “you idiot, you are my priority and getting you safe is more important than anything else so stop worrying.” I just love that scene so much.

Alex laying down to take a nap was a mood honestly, but also he’s probably been unable to let his guard down much being alone in a place with unknow dangers so him feeling safe enough, even when sick, to let himself rest because he knew Michael was watching out for him is just 🥺🥺🥺

Michael’s absolute refusal to even entertain the idea of leaving Alex behind was such a mirror to Alex not leaving him behind in Caulfield! But while that moment was about letting go of the hope to reunite with his mom in order to survive another day, in this case it’s a scene about clinging to hope, and FIGHTING for their future. And no harsh words come out this time, just a steadfast belief that they will make it. Michael’s little “so drink up, soldier” you can tell made Alex grin a little (and if he wasn’t actively dying he surely would have said something about being an airman not a soldier) but it also solidified Alex’s hope and gave him strength. He’s a military strategist and a genius in his own right and he ran the probabilities and of course factored his own life so low on the list that his death was an acceptable loss. So I think it was something he really needed in that moment, to see that Michael wasn’t going to give up on him, Michael wasn’t going to leave him behind, that no matter what anyone else thought, his death was not an acceptable loss to Michael. We’ve been asking since season 1 to see Michael fighting for Alex and he absolutely came through here, even when Alex wasn’t going to fight for himself. I am dyyyying at Kyle (the heart of this show)’s words coming back around, that when Alex was out of hope, Michael would carry it for the both of them, and in turn, Alex was able to carry it when Michael’s ran out. It’s that feedback loop of helping to carry the weight and it’s not always and even 50/50 split, but it’s always shared. BRB gotta go cry about them for a minute.

And then we have the end of the episode, where all of Michael’s hope has finally dried up. He pulled a miracle out of a hat and it wasn’t enough and now we are really hitting the Caulfield parallels but with both of them saying the things they couldn’t fully say back then. Michael sobbing and saying he’s only ever wanted to make Alex happy and should have married him when he had the chance and that he just wanted to build a life together broke me. He has been dreaming of that white picket fence, little alien babies, and a dad band since he was a teenager and a few weeks ago they were solidly on the path to that future and now he’s given everything and failed. But now it’s Alex’s turn to carry hope for both of them. Him flat out telling Michael not to to talk about “his fiancé” like that was so good and something I think they will both be using in the future as a tool to combat the other’s self-worth issues when they crop up. Then we get Alex making it clear this time that it’s out of absolute love, but to stop whining. just...*chef’s kiss*. Michael always said his genius increases when he’s pissed off but at this point he’d given up all hope. Alex gave him exactly what he needed which was a reminder that he has done impossible things before, and that he has always had to fight and make his own way. “There must be some spark left in six aliens. Make it!” was so powerfully delivered and the jump-start Michael needed. Alex wasn’t giving up, so he wouldn’t either. (Also, not to bring 911/Buddie into this, but this scene hit me RIGHT in the “you don’t find it son, you make it” feels.)

And there we have it! I am SO excited to see the finale and the Malex wedding (at HOME with Sanders in a tux, Michael and Alex actually happy, and without that godawful blue filter), and I’m holding out hope for a handprint healing because by golly, we deserve it. But more than anything, I’m looking forward to the Vlamburn photoshoot and all the Vlambase goodness! It’s been a wild ride, but Tyler and Vlamis especially built something so special and I’m glad things are ending on a high note for them. They, Malex, and the fans deserve it.

Link to previous episode posts: 4x01, 4x02, 4x03, 4x04, 4x05, 4x06, 4x07, 4x08, 4x09, 4x10, 4x11

#roswell nm #roswell spoilers #things that spark joy #4x12 #malex #their scenes were SO GOOD this episode!!

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hoediaz · 2 years

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for the ask game: F!! would love to know what dialogue youre most proud of (everything you write is SO good so im curious abt it!!)

omg THANK you so much that's so nice 🥺

F: Share a snippet from one of your favourite dialogue scenes you've written and explain why you're proud of it.

ok this is. so hard bc i am Bad at complimenting myself nknknnd. i'll say that i Guess i'm pretty proud of most of the dialogue in the new girl au bc it's a lot of snappy group dialogue and i'm proud of all of taylor's dialogue in everything i've written her in just bc i have fun writing it nsknkk but for a specific scene i do love this exchange from tying you to me that i'll put under a cut to save everyone the length. i like that the dialogue itself is pretty short and straight to the point but it really cuts to the heart of the matter re: bucklucy and buck and eddie's shared trauma in this universe where they never met until the shooting, but that it's also clear that they understand each other. i also like the callback to earlier at the start of the fic, where buck tells eddie he wasn't in the bar (and eddie doesn't correct him, but then in this scene reveals that he already knew about lucy so he must have been in the bar) and that he doesn't look for him, only to admit that he's always looking for him. this fic was a lot about Soulmate-ism and Fate and Finding your way to someone that you're meant to know and i think this dialogue bit was just a good representation of that i GUESS idk no one look at me i hate being nice about my own shit

fanfic asks 🤩

the snippet in question:

Eddie says, “Why did you do it?”

There’s no point in playing dumb, but he has no idea what compels him to peel back his skin to admit, “Because it hurt.”

Another beat of silence. Eddie’s jaw shifts, clenches. “Yeah,” he says, almost too quiet to be heard over Buck’s playlist (and I have this dream where I’m screaming underwater). “I thought so.”

Buck feels horribly sober, a pressure on his chest he can hardly breathe around. He wants another shot, or maybe three. “You thought so? You don’t even know me.” He can’t quite keep the flint out of his tone.

Eddie doesn’t seem to care about Buck’s sharp edges, a soft smile ticking one side of his mouth up. “I guess I don’t.”

The thing is — Buck closes his eyes, so he doesn’t have to look at Eddie when he admits, “It feels like you do, though.” It’s strange, pathetic; that sad kid that just wanted someone to see him poking his head out and asking to be turned away.

But Buck blinks his eyes open, never able to stop himself from putting his hand on a hot stove, and sees Eddie looking back. Eddie’s eyes are brown — not like Taylor’s blue, and not really anything like Lucy’s brown, either.

They’re at a stop sign.

Eddie says, “I know.” His head turns, gaze sliding away from Buck and toward the road. He doesn’t take his foot off the brake. Buck watches the corner of Eddie’s mouth tense, his hands too-tight on the wheel. “You think that’s just the —”

“Trauma?” Buck fills in, tasting copper on his tongue.

Eddie blinks. The car doesn’t move. “Yeah.”

“Are we gonna talk about that?”

Another blink, brittle tension lining his jaw. Buck can see fracture lines all over him, as familiar as his reflection in a mirror. “No,” he says, “we’re not gonna talk about that.”

“Okay.” Buck’s not sure he could, anyway, not with this many drinks in him, not with Lucy’s smile still acting like a fresh bruise on all of his damage.

But Buck’s never been able to stop himself from digging up graves.

“I lied, you know,” he says. Eddie turns to him, a furrow in his brow. “I did. Look for you, I mean. In the bar and — and on calls and, Christ, at the fucking grocery store. I’m always looking for you. Don’t know why.”

#asks #honeyeddie #ask games #THANK YOU AGAIN U ARE TOO NICE

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undercityrezident · 2 years

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My pleas were answered! Three episodes for the battle between Ash and Cynthia! Thank goodness, because if any match deserved three episodes, it was this one.

This is definitely a good thing, because if the pokemon had gone down any faster, I would’ve been a bit disappointed. And even at the end of the second episode, we have a fair bit of battle to go yet!

I have a question to ask before the actual reflection on the battle, namely why we’re getting all these random and seemingly pointless cutaways to Team Rocket... and in particular, Morpeko chowing down? If we’re not going to devote that screen time to the battle, I’d much rather more to see more cameos from Ash’s friends, or his pokemon back at the ranch more than seeing Morpeko stuffing their face. At least we got a quirky cut of Infernape nearly decking Professor Oak a few times when they saw Lucario using bullet punch. I’d love to see more of that sort of thing with Ash’s other mons emulating those they’re watching fight! At the very least, we got a bit more of Goh commentating on Ash. As a nice bonus, we even got an appearance of Cinderace to support their BF, Lucario, when they finally came out. I actually really do love those two and how supportive they are of each other, and I’m glad that was reflected in this battle.

But for the actual battle, we got to see Ash’s bite-y, mish-mashed fossil dragon put some good work in this battle. It is sometimes hard to take Dracovish seriously, but credit to them this time around as it really did get serious, taking on the poison from Roserade, in addition to the other pummelling offered by the grass-type as well as a quick exchange with Garchomp.

As a note, regarding Roserade, it’s great to see that Cynthia really does have a powerful grasp on how to use her pokemon in battle. And it’s not just in how she consistently swaps in and out, uses moves effectively and deceptively, and plays all sorts of mind-games with Ash, but also subverts our expectations with how we expected will-o-the-wisp’s burn effect to come in handy later.

Turns out Roserade’s ability, natural cure, nullified that inconvenience, putting another thorn in Ash’s side. It’s yet another way she knows how to use her pokemon to put Ash off-balance yet again, mentally and on the battlefield.

We do get a bit of an interesting moment with Ash letting Dracovish battle on, even though he intended to recall it. And to add to that, I really like how Cynthia acknowledged that action, and perhaps even admires it, while admitting that this is still an opportunity for her in the battle. She isn’t going to let Ash get away with it as we see in the following battle between Dracovish and Milotic (whose ability is marvel scale, based on that shimmer it had on its body once in a while? Nice little touch animators, if that was the intention).

I’m glad we got a bit of a callback to Cynthia’s previous battle with Iris in how she was planning to try and take out Dracovish in the same manner as she took out Iris’ Dragonite. Ash must’ve been watching pretty closely back then, as he wasn’t about to let Cynthia get away with that trick again unscathed. While it was surely the end of Dracovish, he didn’t go down without a fight, leaving Ash a chance to try and make up some ground. That goofy mismatched fossil definitely deserves a salute, because they definitely took this match seriously.

Then we get to Sirfetch’d, a contender who had a lot of ups and downs in this battle. We get a fierce reminder that Stealth Rock, set up by Garchomp earlier, is still a hazard for Ash.

Now, Ash is no stranger to eradicating these sorts of issues. Recall that Ash basically blew up the battlefield to destroy a set of toxic spikes Paul set up in their match in the Sinnoh League.

But the application of brutal swing in this match was a bit odd... at least in my opinion.

Hear me out: the idea behind stealth rock is that they’re all invisible, and thus, hard to get rid of in any way other than a massive area-of-effect move. I would’ve actually very much welcomed a callback to Ash’s maneuver with Infernape to upturn the field and fizzle out the toxic spikes. I can most certainly see Sirfetch’d doing something outrageous to propel itself high into the air, and then turning a Meteor Assault down to the earth itself to break the field and have the resulting sundered battlefield propel pieces of itself upwards en masse to eradicate all the stealth rocks and deal damage to Milotic to boot.

To me, that’s far more impressive and has much more precedent in the anime than throwing your shield out Captain America style to somehow knock out all the Stealth Rocks blind. I will admit transferring a move into the shield is an idea that I do like, and I hope it can be applied in another creative way in the future, but this one felt a bit... off. I think they were trying to emulate the concept of Rapid Spin clearing hazards, but it didn’t really resonate with me that much.

Ah... maybe I’m just biased to Ash blowing up the battlefield once in a while. And maybe because I loved the paralleled idea of him doing it to not just one Sinnoan opponent, but two.

But I had to admit, I had to stifle a laugh when Sirfetch’d did that cheeky little “assuming his default stance” pose after defeating Milotic. If nothing else, Ash’s pokemon have a lot of great character, and that’s why I can’t help but love them.

Then on top of that, we got treated to a pretty neat clash between Sirfetch’d and Garchomp. However, we’re quickly reminded why... Garchomp... is... fucking... terrifying.

Even with that little stagger Garchomp took after the clash between Draco Meteor and Meteor Assault (oh hey... dual meteor moves... nice...), it was pretty hardcore to see that, even knocked out, that damn “paragon of chivalry” that is Sirfetch’d managed to stay on their feet. I’m glad to see Ash’s mons are getting some good rep in the second half of this battle, even against the imposing mountain that is Cynthia and her powerful team.

Then we come to the setup for the conclusion to this trio of battle episodes. Lucario versus Togekiss. All battle, Ash has been dreading the arrival of Mega Garchomp, and even in the waiting room, they’re all quietly anticipating how Cynthia is going to mega evolution into play yet again.

But after some touch and go battling between the pair, Cynthia acknowledges Ash’s strength of will, and decides she needs to shock Ash yet again, another blow to his mental preparedness, by unveiling a dynamax band.

Admittedly, I did not see this coming, but it would make sense for Cynthia, a prolific and versatile champion, to master more than just one of the major pokemon enhancing trio of abilities. I can faintly imagine a z-ring hiding under that other sleeve too, perhaps.

Regardless, Ash now has to endure the wrath of Dynamax Togekiss, backed up by the ever powerful, ever vigilant Garchomp, with only his Lucario to withstand them.

I have to say, this battle has left me wanting more. Though I’m not absolutely frothing at the mouth for how amazing this battle is, I’m still generally impressed, barring a few “huh” moments. The character of Ash’s mons is shining through in this battle, but Cynthia is really putting the nails to him. I’m just hoping that, in the next episode, this battle comes to a satisfying conclusion.

We all can probably guess that Ash will win, given the hype train leading up to Ash versus Leon that’s been brewing all season, but I really want Cynthia to make him earn it in a way that does take me by surprise, as Ash usually does, but not in a way that leaves me saying “really?” like I did with that brutal swing shield maneuver.

Let’s see if we can stick the landing...

#Rez Rambles #/#//#///#////#Pokemon #Pokeani #SwSh #Pokeani Spoilers #I really... REALLY... want this to be good #Because we're likely never going to see Cynthia battle this much ever again #And if she really is retiring after this tourney #She needs a great sendoff #And if she HAS to lose #Then fuck; make it a spectacular loss that makes me gobsmacked that Ash made it through at all

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spoilertv · 23 days

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#SpoilerTV

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m39 · 8 months

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Doom WADs’ Roulette (2007): Wonderful Doom - Part 1

As I said in my previous review, we are finally checking out the MegaWAD which has more than 32 maps. Not counting Daedalus since it’s a partial conversion. The last normal WAD with so many maps was 2002: A Doom Odyssey. That WAD was fine, I guess? My memory of playing it is murky at this point in time. Nonetheless, I’m still kind of excited about playing another WAD like this.

S2: Wonderful Doom

Main author(s): Eugene Guschin (Wraith777)

Release date: 2007 (original release)/November 23rd, 2011 (version 1.3)

Version played: 1.3

Required port compatibility: Vanilla

Levels: 36 (standard 8 + 1 per episode)

Wonderful Doom is another WAD that tries to replicate the feeling of the original game, similar to the types Phobos Revisited (2004). Unlike that kind of WADs, however, where they were at most one episode long and focused only on the first episode, this WAD decided to take one, gigantic leap and recreate the feeling of the entire Ultimate Doom with its own spin sprinkled in.

Now, to remind you all that like with the other WADs that were split into episodes, this review will be split into four parts; each focusing on one episode. I do not expect to talk much in this review since Wonderful Doom aims to be a love letter to the original Doom and its fourth episode, and we already have a shit ton of stuff talking about that game to the point of making me wonder if there is still something to talk about.

But who knows? Let’s see what this MegaWAD has to offer.

PART 1

So starting with the first episode... well... it looks like the original Knee-Deep in the Dead in many places. While there are also many locations where it looks different or is layered differently, it still looks really uncanny. Like another case of if “Doom I” was created in a different timeline.

The same can be said about how you play these maps. And like in Phobos Revisited, it turns the concepts in many rooms upside down to some degree, without using the original secrets as mandatory locations (at least not is such a high degree).

The most memorable part of this episode was in the E1M5 clone, where unlike in the original Phobos Lab where you have to cross the pool of toxic slime at the very beginning, here you immediately get damaged by the floor unless you grab a nearby Rad Suit. That’s kind of a dickish move right here.

Changing the subject, yes, this episode is ridiculously easy. I guess it’s fair to say it’s harder than the original episode, but it was still a cakewalk, even when it had some cheap shots (like the one mentioned earlier). I wouldn’t be surprised if it was easier than the original episode if you pistol-started maps since there are items that weren’t in the OG like Berserk and Rocket Launcher in the E1M8 clone.

I haven’t encountered any bugs in this episode. Doomwiki talks about this stuff so you can check the site for the information about it. As for me, I don’t think I will be talking about bugs in the following episodes.

So... Wonderful Doom’s first episode was fun and it was a nice callback to the original game. Hopefully, the rest of it is as fun as this one.

See you next time.

#doom #doom wad #review #part 1 #doom mod #doom 1 #doom 2007 #2007 #wonderful doom #episode 1 #doom wads’ roulette #cacowards #runner up

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makeste · 3 years

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“but I thought about how I needed to say this”

a.k.a. yet another meta dissection of The Apology. I actually wrote most of this up on Friday night based on the original Japanese (@pikahlua has an excellent translation up here, and I also used @hanashimas’ translations as a reference as well), but I wanted to wait until the official release, though that turned out to be a mixed bag to say the least lol.

I would also recommend reading @pikahlua and @class1akids’ breakdowns of this scene (here and here, respectively), because they are excellent, and because if any scene deserves to have as many meta breakdowns written about it as possible, it’s this one.

anyway so here goes.

Caleb did a more accurate job with this than the fanscan, even if he did try his best to take us out of the seriousness of the moment by throwing in that swiss cheese line lol. anyway so there are two things I want to talk about here. the first is the line about Izuku not remembering, which I thought was a nice touch. of course he doesn’t remember what Kacchan said back then. he wasn’t exactly in the soundest emotional state after seeing one of the people he cares about most taking a near-fatal blow that was meant for him. I’d be shocked if he remembers anything about the aftermath (including the way he flew into a mindless rage afterwards) right up until the point when he entered the OFA Interstellar Party Void with Tomura. anyway, so I thought that was a nice callback.

and speaking of emotional states, the other thing I wanted to talk about is the part that Caleb got right which the fan scanlation didn’t. “but I had more to say.” in other words, “stop trying to win on your own” wasn’t just a one-liner; it was meant to be the beginning of a much longer speech. “there were other things that I needed to say.”

like, can we just stop and talk about that for a second. because basically what this means is that in that instant, when Kacchan pushed Deku out of the way and got impaled, his one and only thought was that he needed to apologize to Deku. his life was presumably flashing before his eyes, he had no idea if he was going to survive or not, and the only thing on his mind was how urgently he needed to make things right with his former childhood friend.

moving on!

so I have a confession to make, which is that I am relieved to see Katsuki describing this as the reason why he bullied Deku, as opposed to Horikoshi trying to retcon it into some sort of “secretly he was just trying to protect him and keep him out of harm’s way because he was worried” thing, which ngl would not have gelled very well with me. the thing is that I’m really not a fan of the whole “Kacchan Did Nothing Wrong” mentality that some fans seem to have. like, I have seen all sorts of convoluted attempts to find excuses for Katsuki’s shitty behavior, but in my view those attempts undermine what I love about his character in the first place. Katsuki is such a great character specifically because he is not perfect. his redemption arc is so compelling because he was such a giant asshole at the start. he was completely at fault, and he acknowledges this, and takes full responsibility for it. and that is fucking fantastic.

his arc is so great because it doesn’t rely on garnering sympathy by giving him a Tragic Past, or by trying to foist the blame for his behavior over on someone else. it’s an arc that acknowledges that redemption isn’t something you achieve by making people feel sorry for you; it’s something you have to earn by actively working to change and do better. and by forgoing the “misunderstood/tragic past” route, Horikoshi is making a statement that anyone can go down the wrong path, but that more importantly, anyone can also choose at any time to turn away from said path. there is only one requirement for doing so, and that is realizing that you’ve done wrong, and deciding that you want to change.

anyway, so in chapter 284 Kacchan of course had that whole speech about Deku not taking himself into account, and mentioned how that made him want to keep his distance. and a good chunk of fandom took this to mean that Katsuki’s bullying was actually a misguided response to Deku’s reckless tendencies -- sort of an “if I show him how weak and powerless he really is, I can get him to accept the reality that he’s quirkless, and that being a hero will just get him hurt or killed” type of thing. and I won’t lie, for a good while I was wondering myself if Horikoshi was really going to go down that route. and like I said, I am honestly relieved that he didn’t. not only for the reasons stated in the previous paragraph, but also because the message that would have sent -- that there are certain circumstances in which bullying can almost be excused because the bully had Good Intentions and was just trying to save the other person from themselves, and so it Wasn’t That Bad, Actually -- is all kinds of fucked up to say the least. so yeah, I’m glad we ended up steering well clear of that.

(ETA: this post was long enough already so I edited out the 3 additional paragraphs I originally wrote analyzing the dialogue from 284. but just to be clear, I’m not trying to imply that Kacchan worrying about Deku’s recklessness is a retconned thing that Horikoshi only threw into the story recently, because there are multiple instances throughout the story where he clearly is worried and in total denial of it. but I firmly believe those feelings are not what led to the bullying. they’re two separate things. Kacchan worrying about Deku is what prompts him to yell at him in chapter 1 when Deku comes to save him. but it’s not what incited him to burn his notebook and taunt him earlier in that same chapter. that action had a much meaner and more selfish motivation behind it, and I’m glad Horikoshi didn’t try to change it up last minute, because it wouldn’t have felt right.)

thankfully as of this chapter I think we can safely cross that out as a possibility, as we’re given the true explanation straight from Katsuki himself. and the truth is that he bullied Deku out of insecurity and jealousy and fear and intolerance. there was nothing noble about it. there were no good intentions concealed in his actions. there are no justifications given, no excuses offered, and no mitigating circumstances to be considered, other than the fact (which neither he nor Horikoshi bring up) that he was and is still a child, and that children make mistakes.

it’s an explanation that challenges many of fandom’s ideas on who is and isn’t eligible to be redeemed. there is no Ozai in Katsuki’s backstory. there’s no great tragedy that he spent a lifetime trying to rise above. the only villain in Katsuki’s story is Katsuki himself. the only darkness that he has to overcome is his own. and it’s challenging, because I think many people believe the only way someone can be redeemed for doing bad things is if bad things happen to them in return. but what Horikoshi is saying here is that that’s not the case. bad doesn’t erase bad. and the one and only way to truly earn redemption is by doing good.

and that’s what makes this such a phenomenal scene for me. by not shying away from Katsuki’s flaws and failings, and having him take full responsibility for them, Horikoshi keeps the apology from being self-serving, and underscores the true depth of Katsuki’s character development. the level of self-awareness he has here is something most people can only dream of. which is very fitting, as that’s perhaps the most important takeaway from his character arc -- that it’s only by acknowledging your own weaknesses and flaws that you can learn to overcome them and reach your full potential.

one last thing to point out here, which is that in the panel where Katsuki finally acknowledges his terrible treatment of Deku, Deku is not even visible. instead, Horikoshi drew the panel from a perspective that makes it appear that Katsuki is addressing this particular line not just to Deku, but to all of his classmates.

again, he shows him taking full responsibility and admitting his wrongdoings in front of the people whose opinions and approval he cares about most. and just to clarify in case there’s any confusion from Caleb’s translation, Kacchan’s wording makes it very clear that he wasn’t just “mean” to Deku, but that he full-on bullied him (he uses the same verb -- “ijimeru” (苛める) -- that he did back in chapter 284). there’s no attempt to downplay his actions here.

moving on now, this chapter also reaffirmed another thing about Deku and Kacchan’s relationship which I was glad to see revisited -- Kacchan’s unwavering belief in Deku’s ability. this is one of those paradoxical things about their relationship which I’ve always been fascinated by, but which is also kind of hard to explain, because I don’t want it to come off like I’m trying to put a positive spin on something which was unequivocally awful. like, please don’t think I’m trying to say that Katsuki’s bullying of Deku was in any way a good thing. but that being said, there’s also a strange irony at play here, which is that Katsuki’s jealousy and insecurity also betray the fact that even at his very worst, he never once underestimated Deku. he has always believed in Deku’s strength, even when that strength pissed him off and made him afraid and uneasy.

no one else -- not All Might, or even Deku’s own mom -- believed from the get-go that Deku could become a hero. but Katsuki never once counted him out, even when he was calling him a pebble in his shoe. he confesses here that even though he “tried to act superior by rejecting [Deku]”, in truth he was never able to shake the feeling that Deku was above him. long before he ever understood the concept of “win to save”, he knew instinctively that there was a strength in Deku’s heart that couldn’t be measured, and which had the potential to surpass even his own strength. and I’ve always felt that this was so important, because it’s the one aspect of their early relationship that hinted that on some level, however subconscious, Katsuki held the same type of faith in Deku that Deku always held in him. it was one of the few things that hinted at there being a possible path towards reconciliation one day. and it paved the way for the most important shift in their relationship to date, when Katsuki finally realized who Deku got his quirk from, and responded not with resentment or spite, but with acceptance.

moving on, I also really love the way we see them portrayed at the different stages of their childhood throughout this speech, and how it perfectly lines up with the dialogue. from small children (when Katsuki talks about his insecurities first manifesting), to middle schoolers (when he talks about the bullying), to high schoolers (when he talks about the past year and everything he’s learned at U.A.). Horikoshi really didn’t have to go that hard, but he did, and that’s why we love him.

and then we finally get to That Part.

where do I even start with this there are so many things omg.

the bow. this is the one and only time Katsuki has ever bowed to anyone of his own volition as far as I recall. and this absolutely is a bow, just to be clear, even though his form is straight-up garbage (very Kacchan-esque, with his feet and arms spaced apart because he’s still a punk after all). this is Kacchan showing more humility and respect than he’s ever shown to anyone else in his entire life.

regarding “Izuku”, I actually have mixed feelings about this to tell the truth. I think it was a good call here because it was incredibly effective in setting the tone and showing just how serious Kacchan is. however if he continues to use “Izuku” rather than “Deku” from here on out, that would give the impression in hindsight that all his past usage of “Deku” really was meant as an insult, which would undermine some of my favorite scenes. I would really like to believe that since DvK2 or thereabouts, Kacchan has (mostly) been using “Deku (affectionate)” rather than “Deku (useless loser)”, lol. but if he switches to the “nicer” name on a permanent basis following his apology, it implies that the previous nickname was indeed being used cruelly. and so honestly I hope this was just a one-time thing, because I do think that in Katsuki’s mind, the name “Deku” hasn’t been meant as a slight to him for a long time now.

“my truth/this is what I truly feel” -- the word Katsuki uses in Japanese is honne (本音), and if you’re familiar with the concept of honne/tatemae, that’s the same “honne” he’s talking about here. it means that he’s casting aside all of his walls and facades and expressing what he truly feels. and of course, one of the fascinating things about Katsuki’s character is that he’s the exact opposite of most people in that he chooses to put his meanness on full display to the public, and ironically it’s the kindest parts of himself which he tends to keep the most carefully guarded and hidden away. this also means that while his rage and anger are very often insincere and put on just for show, those relatively few occasions where he lets his humanity truly shine through are pretty much 100% genuine, as is the case with this one here.

and Deku’s face says it all when it comes to how powerful those moments can be as a result.

and this, right here, is why it wasn’t enough for Katsuki to atone solely through his actions, and why he needed to actually say the words as well. it’s not that the words are more important; obviously the actions are far and away the most important part, and carry far more meaning. but the reason why Katsuki needed to say the words as well is simply because Izuku needed to hear them. needed to, and deserved to, because this is one of the most important people in the world to him.

and so he deserves to know that the relationship isn’t just one-sided, and that he is just as important to Kacchan as Kacchan is to him. he deserves to know that Kacchan understands how horribly he treated him, and that he’s sorry for it. and he deserves to know that Kacchan, without any expectation of it changing their relationship -- meaning that he will continue to feel this way regardless of what Izuku says or does from here on out -- cares about him. now more than ever, with AFO out there doing everything in his power to make Izuku feel as alone as possible, this is something that he really, really needed to hear.

so this part has some interesting wordplay which neither Caleb’s translation nor the fan scanlation was really able to get across. basically, in the Japanese version, when Katsuki talks about “those ideals”, Horikoshi uses the kanji for “ideal”, but pronounces it as “All Might.” obviously the meaning of this isn’t too hard to decipher, as we all know how much both boys admire All Might. to them, he absolutely is synonymous with the Ideal. so this is a way of showing that respect they both have towards him, even as Katsuki goes on to point out the one fatal flaw that All Might was never able to overcome.

and speaking of interesting wording, as others have noted, at this point in his speech Katsuki switches from “temee” (which he was using earlier during the “your strengths and my weaknesses” part) to “omae” (“omae” being a less insulting word for “you”, though still very manly and tough-sounding), which is definitely a big deal. though fwiw this is not the first time he’s used “omae” for Deku (he switches to it briefly right after DvK2, when he tells Deku “you had the strongest guy lay the groundwork for you -- don’t lose”, and then later when they’re walking back to the dorms and he says he’ll learn and get stronger by watching everyone around him just like Deku did). it’s definitely a good choice on Horikoshi’s part though, as it makes this last part of the speech sound more earnest and sincere.

just a quick note, he does indeed use a plural pronoun here, as in “the obstacles that you can’t overcome, we will overcome.” but as @pikahlua pointed out, the “we” here is ambiguous -- it could either mean “we” as in class 1-A -- “we will overcome them for you” -- OR it could mean “we” as in all of them -- class 1-A and Deku. “we will overcome them together.” idk about you, but I know which one gets my vote.

anyway, and so this is the line that finally wins Deku over and allows him to let go of his fears, however briefly. what I love about this is Kacchan’s utter conviction. one thing that Caleb’s translation doesn’t quite get across is Kacchan’s use of the word morenaku -- “without exception” -- when he talks about how they’re going to save everyone and win. it echoes that same sentiment he showed back during the Joint Training arc -- that it’s not a perfect victory unless they save everyone. every last person. and he explicitly lists Deku among their number, just so there can be no doubt.

and Deku’s response to this (or at least his thoughts, since he’s not really able to get many words out) pretty much brings everything full circle here.

he acknowledges that everyone else has gotten ahead of him. which is especially meaningful given who he’s standing directly across from. because for most of the series, as we all well know, it’s been Kacchan who was woefully lagging behind Deku in the character growth department. but now Deku himself is acknowledging that not only has Kacchan finally caught up at last, but that he and the others have surpassed him. which is only temporary, I should add, as I have zero doubt that Deku will catch up again soon. but the fact remains that just as Deku’s rapid increase in strength and skill left Kacchan scrambling to keep up earlier in the series, Kacchan’s extraordinary character development has now left Deku in that same position. as All Might once put it, “when he’s starting at level one, and you’re already at level 50, it’s only natural that you’ll be growing at different rates.”

and what’s so wonderful about this though is that the two of them are finally approaching that point where they’ve both caught up to each other and are finally starting to level out. Deku is a full-on badass, and Kacchan is out here talk-no-jutsuing with the best of them. the two of them have been chasing and chasing after each other this entire time, and now they’re finally just about ready to meet in the middle at long last, with each of them fully embodying both of those two crucial aspects -- win, and save.

just about. because Deku still needs some help catching up. but seeing as help has already been offered -- and accepted -- I can’t imagine it will be very long now, and I can’t wait to see him finally overcoming those fears and doubts with his friends by his side. it’s going to be such a powerful moment.

and last but not least,

or, as I prefer,

you had one job, Caleb. flkjsdlk.

but at least this provides a good opportunity to note that unlike the “we’ll help you handle it” line earlier in the speech, here the phrasing is left up to interpretation, as he doesn’t use a pronoun. so it could be “we know”, or, as the fan scanlation put it, “I know.” or it could be both. regardless, it’s good stuff.

anyway, and so Deku passes out, and in the process Horikoshi gives us one last parting metaphor, just in case anyone still thinks Kacchan is all talk because they haven’t been paying attention for the past 322 chapters (more likely than you think). once again, Katsuki’s actions speak louder than his words (even his nice words) ever could: he is literally there to catch Deku when he falls.

so that’s it! my sincere thanks to anyone who actually read through all of my endless ramblings about this scene which I have been waiting for since day one. props to Horikoshi for taking on an impossibly difficult task, and pulling it off with all of the emotion and care and nuance that I’ve come to expect from his writing. imo he delivered on every single level with the exception of the aftermath, which I don’t consider to have actually happened yet. Deku’s part of this is definitely a “to be continued.” but yeah, as far as Kacchan’s part goes, 10/10. so fucking proud of this kid.

#bnha 322 #bakugou katsuki #midoriya izuku #bakudeku #bnha meta #bakugou meta #deku meta #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha

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marveldc-imagines-hub · 3 years

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Subtitles: Episode 1, Filmed Before a Live Studio Audience

Subtitles Masterlist

Summary: [Y/N] has been living in Westview for more almost a month now and yet to properly put down roots. What they hadn’t been expecting was to work so much, have unpacking be so hard, and for a new couple to move in the other house for sale, directly across the street.

Word count: 8,425

Warnings: Sit down and grab a snack because this one’s a bit long! Otherwise nothing, really. Maybe second-hand embarrassment caused by a thirsty Reader.

~~~

Ever since you left both home and family behind some years ago, you’ve always felt a little out of place in the world. It was a hard time for you, leaving everything you knew behind and instead branching out and trying to find your place in the world. Actually, not only was it a difficult time in your life, but a confusing one; when you attempted to reflect on those memories, all you get is a head of foggy feelings, including a particularly sick sensation that leaves you out of commission for the rest of the day if you’re not careful.

When you settled in Westview, it was like a breath of fresh air. Finding a home in a nice neighborhood was easy and the moving was done in a pinch thanks to a local moving company helping you get the boxes to your door, though you couldn’t afford to pay for them to do more. You were even lucky enough to find a street with not one but two open houses to pick from; you chose the smaller, more modest abode, as you had no family in town and no intention of getting married or starting a family any time soon. Despite this lack of them nearby and generally solid memories, though, you knew you had a good relationship with your family because as soon as you found a place, you were receiving housewarming gifts and postcards and letters from not only your family but close and extended relatives alike. Needless to say, it didn’t take long for your new house’s already installed fridge to be covered in pamphlet-worthy pictures of places across the nation and kind words from your mother, grandmother, and cousins.

There was still unpacking, now of both the furniture and gift variety, that needed to be done before anything else. Then there was the question of a proper source of income—while the money you received from your relatives would cover a month or two while you got yourself settled, you suspected there wasn’t going to be anything else for a long while and, either way, you wanted to be able to fend for yourself. Finally, after the necessities were dealt with, there was the matter of making your house and the neighborhood your home and by making some connections; while you were perfectly content living alone, it would be nice to not feel like such an outsider, to have friends to go out on the town with or take the occasional trip with on the weekends. These were normal goals, you figured, and, with as easy everything else has been so far, they should be simple enough to complete.

Right?

Well, at least getting a job was easy enough, you thought as you sat on the stack of boxes that, over the last month, had become a chair by the door that you used to pull on your shoes before work, as you were doing now. It also functioned as a coat and hat rack, as proven by your growing collection of jackets and headwear piled on it, and the occasional bookshelf after a trip to the local library. It used to be a place to hold your keys but you have yet to make that mistake again after sitting down one day and getting a sharp jab to the backside.

You were right that getting a job was easy enough—you received a callback for a secretary job at a computational services company only after a week of job searching—but you had yet to follow through with your other aspirations. It’s not like you haven’t tried, but when it came to unpacking, your job left you with very little energy to do much other than collapse on a couch-shaped collection of boxes when you get home and only a semi-decently decorated bedroom to show for your work. In terms of bonding with the locals and making some friends, let’s just say that Dottie is convinced you purposely spilled red wine on her perfect white parlor gown—who wears white when drinking red wine?—and now all you received from the neighborhood husbands were side-eyes and grumbling after telling them you found their attempts at humor in poor taste. At least you’d managed to charm your boss and his wife when they came over for dinner and now Mr. and Mrs. Hart invited you over for the occasional drink and gossip; Agnes, a woman from across the street and down a house, was also among your few successes, and she was a hoot to be around in a big sister or wine aunt type of way, despite her loudness.

Speaking of which—

“Hey, [Y/N],” Agnes hollered from somewhere outside, “haven’t seen you out of the house yet! Better hurry up, the streets are antsville today! Or, at least, you could come with me to say welcome the other new neighbors!”

Agnes came knocking on your door the same day you moved in and since then, she’s apparently committed your daily schedule to memory because if you’re not heading to work right on time, you get a holler from across the— Wait. New neighbors? You hopped up from your boxy perch after making sure your shoes were secure and peeked out the nearest window. Sure enough, the other house that you had considered moving into, the one immediately across the street from your own, no longer had a FOR SALE sign stuck in its yard and the yard and curtains appeared to have been decorated. Your heart lept into your throat as you wondered when that had happened; you desperately hoped that it hadn’t happened too long ago because you’ve been on a work rampage for the past few days and haven’t noticed much else. Yet another thing you haven’t done correctly.

Agnes was also by the front yard, leaning against the fence and chatting with the mailman as he walked by. After he passed, she looked up and caught your eye, grinned, and waved. “Come on, [Y/N], no time like the present!”

You wanted to join her and introduce yourself to the new neighbors, you really did. Unfortunately, you would definitely get to work late if you didn’t get a move on, especially if the streets were as crowded as Agnes mentioned them to be, and you definitely didn’t want to greet the neighbors without a housewarming gift in hand. Perhaps you could stop by a shop on the way home and pick up a plant or a pie and welcome them this evening.

“Now, don’t flip your lid, Agnes,” you teased back with a smile as you walked outside. This response earned you a mock scowl, then Agnes’s smile again; you walked over to your vehicle and tossed your bag into the passenger’s seat. “I wish I could join you but you caught me; I am in fact looking to wind up late and I’ll be cruisin’ for a bruisin’ if I don’t leave now. I’ll try to stop by after work!”

“Well alright then,” came Agnes’s reply, while you hopped into the driver’s seat and started your chariot up. “I’ll tell them you say hi. Congrats on no longer being the new guy!”

Too bad I still feel like the new guy, you mentally grumbled, rapping your fingers on the steering wheel. You took a breath, checked that your hair was in place and your shirt wasn’t wrinkled in the mirror and headed on your way.

“Oh, hello dear; I’m Agnes, your neighbor to the right! My right, not yours. Forgive me for not stopping by sooner to welcome you to the neighborhood. My mother-in-law was in town, so I wasn’t.”

Wanda watched the woman on her doorstep, visibly a bit perplexed but smiling either way. She was confused about what special event she and her husband were supposed to be celebrating tonight after seeing a heart on the calendar but now that she had an unknown woman—no, not unknown; one of her neighbors—here, Wanda couldn’t possibly be a bad hostess and turn her away.

Not that the woman, Agnes, would have let her do so anyway. She shoved the plant she was holding into Wanda’s arms and walked inside, talking without giving Wanda any space to chime in. “So, what’s your name, where’re you from, and most importantly, how’s your bridge game, hon?”

Wanda quickly shut the door and trotted after the woman. She was newly stressed over the unknown event but now also giddy; this was the first neighborly welcome of many, she was sure of it! She reached Agnes’s side and stretched out a hand with a big smile. “I’m Wanda.”

“Wanda,” Anges repeated as if to see how the same felt on her tongue, before taking Wanda’s hand in a solid shake, “Charmed.” She paused, glancing around the house—Wanda felt an odd pang of anxiety—then continued, “Gol-ly, you settled in fast! Did you use a moving company?”

Wanda struggled momentarily for an answer. Of course, she didn’t; she’d used her powers to unpack and decorate quickly, but she couldn’t say that to this stranger. She decided to go with an affirmative answer as it was the easiest route. She went to reply—

“If you did,” Agnes went on, “I should get the name from you. Our other new neighbor across the way still has a house full of boxes!”

Wanda blinked, her head tilting to one side out of curiosity. “Other new neighbor?”

“Why the house directly to your front!” Without waiting, the other woman walked to the front window and yanked back the curtains; she gestured to the house in question. “[Y/N]. They live on their own, you see, and probably could have done well with the help. Actually, they were going to stop by with me but they were running late for work. I told them I’d tell you hi for them—Hi for them!”

The loud car Wanda had heard a few minutes earlier must have been this other neighbor rushing off to work. It was nice to know that even though it hadn’t happened, there had almost been a party of two to welcome her and her husband to the street; it’s too bad that he had left for his own job only a while earlier.

Wanda made her way over to the window as well and took a look. It was more modest in size and build than Wanda’s own home, much more suited to house a single person. Despite Agnes’s claim of them having not unpacked, a few lawn decorations were set up and a pair of [F/C] curtains hung neatly framing the home’s front window. Wanda could make out various boxes leaning up against the window, evidence to Agnes’s statement, but otherwise, the place seemed well-kept. The yard was taken care of, though Wanda wondered if it was because the person had moved in just as recently as she and her husband did or if they just enjoyed garden work.

Apparently, she’d wondered this aloud because Agnes responded, “They’ve been here for about a month, just been too busy making a good impression at work and making a fool out of themselves to the other neighbors to make their house a little more homely. Poor thing’s a darling but struggling in the social department.”

Wanda continued to watch the house as if this other, slightly older newcomer was about to drive back up the street to home. Consider her interest piqued. Wanda wanted to know more about [Y/N], all of her neighbors really, but more importantly, why there had been multiple houses open and if it was common. She hoped this neighborhood was as friendly as it seemed and that it wasn’t danger or unkindness that had made multiple people move out. She opened her mouth to ask—

However, Agnes had moved on to a different subject, as well as a different part of the house. “So what’s a single gal like you doing rattling around this big house?”

“Oh no,” Wanda, sighing softly, switched gears with her and replied, “I’m not single.”

You gulped down a gasp of air as you tumbled out of the elevator of Computational Services Inc, which earned you a few odd looks from unknown coworkers passing by. You’d bumped into one of them while skidding to a halt and you felt a blush creep up on your cheeks and ears and you stepped away, apologizing profusely. You tried to reach your desk in a quick but professional manner, only stopping briefly to make sure your clothes and hair were still in order in the reflection of an office window. As you got closer to your desk, a small thing in an area separated from other employees, you heard the comforting sounds of typing and radio music. You got to your desk, pulled out your chair, sat your bag down, and began to sit, only for a voice to catch your attention.

“Yes, as a matter of fact, there is. Would you be so good as to tell me what exactly we do here?”

A British accent? Not something you hear every day around here. You pushed your chair back into place to prevent another worker from bumping into it and walked over to peer around the corner. You recognized Norm, a kind and well-mannered employee that filled out computational forms in this section of the building, standing and chatting with a taller, paler, glasses-wearing man that you didn’t know.

The British voice spoke again and now, at least, you could put the voice to a face. “Do we make something?”

The British gentleman was very tall indeed and quite handsome. He had light wavy hair in a side part, with a sliver’s worth that looked like it could fall into his eyes at any moment; you felt the strange urge to push it back before the idea of running your hands through a stranger’s hair made you blush again. His suit fit his lanky body well, though you’d expect nothing less as Mr. Hart was very strict about his workers’ appearance. His tie was interesting, a dark color with a simple, lighter print of four spots, two larger ones encased in a rectangle, and his glasses framed his curiosity-ridden face very well. Above his lovely-looking, light-colored eyes, his brows were furrowed as he looked animatedly around, as though his workplace was a puzzle he was trying to solve. You noticed he talked with his hands quite a bit and you also noticed that his large, long-fingered hands seemed slightly out of place compared to the rest of his body. They seemed like nice hands, though, and they probably did their job well.

Goodness, [Y/N], now you’re just being ridiculous. You squeezed your eyes shut and pressed your head against the wall you were hiding around. No, not hiding, because that would make your creeping seem even more bizarre. Definitely not creeping. Investigating.

You shook your head to refocus and looked towards the men, listening again. He is a bit of a dreamboat, isn’t he though?

Norm was answering the man. “No and no.”

“Then what is the purpose of this company?” the stranger continued.

“All I know,” Norm replied with a smile, “is since you’ve gotten here, productivity has gone up three hundred percent!”

Three hundred? That was a startling thought, almost enough to give you a headache. So you’re the reason I’ve had more files on my desk.

The stranger picked up one of said files and flipped through it. “Yes, but what is it that we’re producing?”

He’s quite interested in figuring out the answer to that question, isn’t he? You felt another pang in your temple. How strange.

Your brows knitted together as you, curious, leaned into the pain a bit. The pain seemed to follow the British employee’s questioning, so you focused on it.

What did they do here anyway?

The harmless pangs quickly turned into a full-blown migraine, similar to what would happen if you thought too hard about your past. You grimaced in pain and reached for your head, only to lose your balance completely and fall forward, into the room you were observing. You hissed as your knees hit solid ground and you braced yourself with one hand while the other gripped the hair closest to your temple. You tried to look around for something else to focus on but your vision was blurry and you couldn’t tell if you were even moving your head.

Then there was shouting, which didn’t help the throbbing pain at all, and you felt what seemed like a hundred pairs of hands grasping at you. You couldn’t understand the yelling other than recognizing the voices as male; you tried to tell them you were alright, shake the hands off and get yourself some space, but nothing in your body seemed to be working quite right. Because of this, the voices and the various hands—or was there just two hands?—didn’t know what you wanted and instead of space, they crowded you. You felt grips on your shoulders and arms, even on your back— Then you were being lifted. Completely off the ground or only to your feet, you couldn’t tell.

Then the hands—only one on your back and another pair holding your arm now—guided you to a place where you could properly sit.

It was quieter now and you could feel the floor beneath your feet and an office chair holding your weight. You realized your eyes were closed so you opened them and you found your vision beginning to refocus. You looked around.

“Goodness, are you alright?”

You could feel how red your face was—it was probably bright enough to be used as a neon stop sign—when you found yourself staring into a man’s torso. A torso that was quite close. You looked up and directly into the face of the British man, who no longer looked troubled by curiosity but rather quite concerned by you.

Oh, yes, definitely a dreamboat, you thought without really meaning to.

Then Norm came rushing over, a cup in hand. “[Y/N], are you alright?”

“[Y/N],” the stranger repeated. He took the water cup from Norm, who hovered nearby, and squatted down to be at eye level with you.

You wouldn’t mind hearing him say your name again.

Good Lord, stop it, you almost passed out!

“That is my name,” you managed. You even managed a definitely awkward smile, a couple of seconds of definitely awkward eye contact.

“Here, you should drink this.” He offered you the cup and once you took it, he pressed the back of his hand to your forehead. “You’re burning up!”

I would imagine so, with how I feel. You sipped the water. Maybe you didn’t look as bad as you thought you did.

“Looks like you’re about to throw up too,” Norm very helpfully added.

Thank you for the commentary, Norm.

“[Y/N],” the other employee said, drawing your scowling gaze back from Norm, “do you have someone you could call? You look ill; perhaps it would serve you well to go home.”

“I’m fine,” you assured him. He did not look convinced but you pushed on, whipping up a quick white lie to cover up your jarring headache. “I didn’t eat this morning and I rushed to work to escape the antsville. I must have gotten overheated on the way and I’m sure an empty stomach helped that. Sorry for worrying—”

“What is going on out here?”

You both jumped to your feet; you moved too fast for having just recovered and stumbled but luckily both Norm and his colleague caught you and straightened you up before you fell over. No one wanted to be seen out of place by the boss and you were currently both out of place and sorts. Even though you knew Mr. Hart already saw you—hell, he was standing directly in front of you three—you glanced around for a place to hide. Instead, you saw files and papers scattered across the floor, the result of your migraine-induced fumbling. You groaned and dropped your head into your hands.

“Well?”

There was a moment of silence. You felt Norm take a step away from you and you expected the other man to do so as well. He didn’t but you raised your head and squared your shoulders, preparing for the worst.

“Sir—” you started.

“Sir,” the British gentleman interrupted, taking a step forward. “[Y/N] here was walking back to their desk and tripped, and in my haste to help them, I knocked over a pile of files on my desk. I apologize for the racket and the mess I’ve caused; I’ll deal with it right away.”

Mr. Hart looked from him to you to Norm, who was quaking in his nice shoes, then back. There were yet a few more moments of quiet before he spoke again. “Vision.”

Vision?

“Yes, Sir.”

You glanced at the man to your right. Vision. What an interesting name for an interesting person.

“You better hope dinner tonight goes well after this charade,” Mr. Hart barked. “This better be cleaned up by the next time I come out here.”

Rather than looking upset or stressed, Vision looked relieved. He made a heart with his hands and muttered, “Mr. Hart. Of course…”

“And you,” the boss’s glare now settled on your face. “You were late this morning. In my office. Now.”

“Dammit,” you muttered after Mr. Hart had turned his back.

“Sorry, don’t think I can help you that one,” Vision chimed in. He was rubbing the back of his head and squinting at Mr. Hart’s back. “You’ll be alright?”

“Promise, it was just a bit of the spins.” You gave him a friendly pat on the arm and made your way to hopefully not get fired. “Nice meeting you!”

“You as well, despite the unfortunate circumstances. Good luck!”

Mr. Hart was waiting for you by his desk when he entered. He gestured for you to shut the door before he sat and as you did, you saw Vision beginning to clean up your mess before the phone on his desk started ringing.

“Ugh, I’m exhausted.” You were exiting a shop downtown, squinting against the light of the setting sun. You held the door open with a toe of one shoe while you adjusted the bags on your arms, then moved around to properly hold the door for Agnes, who strolled out after you. “Hart was an absolute villain today! Barks at me for coming in late and not getting work done but then does it for an hour! Well now who’s keeping me? Then this British gent—I swear I’ve never seen him before but he’s apparently the cause of my last few busy work days!”

“The looker?”

You blushed a bit; Agnes will never you live it down now that you’ve slipped up and said you’d found the man attractive. “I may have mentioned that earlier—but I digress! As charming as the man was, helping me out even after I knocked over a bunch of his things, he’s still a powerhouse of an employee. Tripled my load of work with his own; now I get what Norm meant when he said productivity has gone up by three times! Imagine, being yelled at by my boss—who was one of the few well-off relationships I’ve had since moving to town—for an hour, and then, when you finally get back to business, your desk is buried in files! I’m barely breathing at this point! Ain’t that just a bite.”

“Who’s flipped their lid now?” Agnes said with a cheeky grin. You responded with a tired glare and she scoffed. She moved her own bags to one arm so she could give your shoulder a good pat. “Just teasing you, dear! We can’t all be superhuman, unfortunately. Although you’re damn near close; thank you for helping me home, by the way. Ralph had a last-minute “meeting” with some “coworkers” tonight and I’m helping out our new neighbor plan a very important date!”

That’s right, you had a new neighbor across the street. You’d almost forgotten. You knew there was a reason you’d felt the urge to pick up a small houseplant on your way through the checkout.

“You have the mouth of a sailor, ‘Nes,” you quipped, cracking a grin.

“And a drinking tolerance that would put any soldier to shame!” Agnes agreed with a short laugh. After a quick pause, she added, “It’s not like I said ‘fuck.’”

That time both of you laughed and for the first time since your disastrous day, you felt yourself relax. After bringing up sailors and soldiers, Agnes lept into one of her half-complaint, half-stories about how, one time, her husband Ralph got drunk and tried to fight an entire bar—“Everything including the stools!” While she talked and you escorted her to your car, your mind wandered, curiosity about your new neighbors piqued again. You reached the sidewalk’s curb and helped Agnes stepped down, then opened the vehicle’s passenger door and took her bags.

Instead of sliding inside, Agnes watched you as you moved around to the other side of the car and put the bags in the backseat. “You’re a bit of a flutter bum yourself, dear. Look at those manners; you’ve been out and about all day and still came to help me with the groceries! And that voice! Absolute apple butter sometimes, when you want it to be. I’m surprised you aren’t already circled with a couple of children along the way!”

You snorted as you opened your door and slid behind the wheel. “Just not in my plan, I suppose.” You gestured for her to join you in the car and started it up when she did so. “You didn’t see me today either. Creeping around corners, then these annoying headaches got to me and I was stumbling around knocking down everything! Not to mention the new guy, sweet as pie, saw me do all this and go absolutely red just from looking at him. Sweating, cottonmouth, everything. I must have seemed bonkers! It was awful.”

Agnes offered, “I’m sure it wasn’t as bad as you think.”

“I’m sure if he ever sees me again, he’s going to turn heel and walk in the opposite direction,” you stated. Then you shifted into gear, pulled away from the sidewalk, and turned towards home.

You were in the one room in your house that wasn’t a part of the United Boxes, your bedroom, standing in front of one of the few pieces of furniture you’d managed to unpack since moving in. You fussed over your reflection in the mirror, pushing your damp hair from one side to the other, adjusting your tie one moment then readjusting it the next, holding up various hats and cardigans.

Your casual wardrobe was much more unique than the business attire you kept for work, which was generally neutral in both color and style. Tonight, you wore a collared button-up in a bright pattern of your favorite color paired with a tie that was darker in shade but equally bright in color, and you were debating between various cardigans in complementary colors. The pants you wore were more muted, a neutral color to go with the shiny black dress shoes and good quality belt that you usually only broke out for special social occasions. For a little more pop, you also wore a few colorful bracelets on each wrist and a ring or two. You even added a little more color to your still tired-looking face, despite you feeling much better after a nap, shower, and change of clothes.

You finally settled on the combination of a brighter colored cardigan a more muted hat to pull your entire look together. Slipping the cardigan on and flattening out any creases, you flashed your mirror self your friendliest smile for practice’s sake. Then you gave yourself a twirl, craning your neck over over your shoulder to make sure everything looked just as nice from the back as the front.

Now we’re cooking with gas, you thought. Hopefully, the neighbors think so too.

Satisfied, you made your way out to the living room where your outfit-appropriate handbag and housewarming gift waited. The young plant, a pachira, sat in a pot whose color accented the color of the house you were going to visit this evening as opposed to the simple white it’d come in. The pot itself wore a big ribbon bow that you’d attached yourself and sticking out of the soil was a card welcoming the neighborhood’s newcomers.

Perhaps you’d finally make some friends tonight.

You picked up the plant-based gift in one hand and placed it securely in the crook of your arm, then picked up your handbag in the other and made your ways outdoors. It was a quick walk across the street and once on the neighboring house’s doorstep, you steeled yourself with a deep breath. You smiled, then frowned, then smiled again and repeated this a couple of times to make sure the first smile your neighbors saw wasn’t a strained one and raised your hand to use the oddly realistic-looking lobster door hanger.

Much to your surprise, however, the door opened before your hand ever reached it.

And there, in front of you, looking just as shocked as you felt, was your boss and his wife.

“Mr— Mr. Hart?” you stammered, stumbling backward and almost dropping the plant under your arm. Remembering the last time you and your boss “conversed,” your friendly face twisted into more of a deer in the headlights look. “Mrs. Hart? What are... What are you doing here? You didn’t just move in, did—?”

“Is there a problem, Mr. and Mrs. Hart?”

Not only did you recognize the Harts but you recognized the British voice that came from behind them and the face that appeared with it.

“Vision?”

“[Y/N]?”

The two of you stared at each other in surprise. That is until Mr. Hart cleared his throat; he and Mrs. Hart still stood directly in front of you, with Vision unintentionally blocking them from stepping back inside. You yelped an apology and stepped to one side, then had to catch yourself on the doorframe as you almost tripped down the front steps.

“Yes, that’s right,” Mr. Hart said slowly as he stepped outside, giving you a particularly unpleasant look, “[Y/N] here lives in the neighborhood as well. Say, you live directly across the way, don’t you?”

“Yes, sir,” you responded immediately with a tilt of your head in the direction of your home. Then you glanced over at Vision and raised the pot you held slightly for him to see. “I was just coming over to introduce myself and offer a housewarming gift.”

Mr. Hart gave a strained nod, clearly still out of sorts about your work performance today. “Well, we were just out the door after the first dinner with the Maximoffs.” He made it sound like having dinner with your boss, while important, was something more of a religious experience.

You hoped Vision did well.

“He did just fine,” Mrs. Hart piped in.

There you go, accidentally wondering things aloud again.

“Congrats!” you chirped in Vision’s direction. You noted that he seemed as uncomfortable being in this situation as Mr. Hart acted and you felt. Perhaps you should have just visited in the morning.

Out of the group, Mrs. Hart seemed to be the only one unphased. She gave your shoulder a friendly squeeze and complimented your outfit—the one that her husband eyed distastefully—then lowered her voice so only you could hear. “I heard about your little brawl at work today. Don’t get bent too out of shape about my husband’s behavior; he has to work the weekend and he’s about excited as a cat that doesn’t get fed on time. We’re still on for bridge this weekend, right?”

You always liked Mrs. Hart. She was a good counterweight to her ever so charming husband and she always made sure to make you feel at home here in Westview, even if you struggled to do so yourself. You gave her a smile and a nod. “Of course, ma’am. You look stunning tonight, by the way.”

“Charmer.”

As you were talking to Mrs. Hart, Vision settled things with the mister, and things finally seemed to be calming down. However, Vision was wishing the Harts a safe way home, and you gave them a “Good night!” and a wave while wondering if you should just go home yourself, when a clatter came from inside the—what was it?—Maximoff household.

A voice followed, “Vis? Is everything alright out there, dear?”

You felt yourself deflate a bit; you already forgot that Mr. Hart had mentioned Maximoffs. Maximoffs, not one Maximoff. You were somewhat disappointed that, from what it sounded like, your new dashing British acquaintance had a partner, not that it was a surprise. He must have had people throwing themselves at him at one point in his life before he settled on The One and they immediately got married and moved into their cozy-looking, bigger than your own, house. Or, perhaps, maybe he was the awkward one falling all over himself to impress the person of his interest and when they finally picked him, he felt like his heart exploded into a billion heart-shaped butterflies that found their home in his stomach.

Of course you were the only one on the block who was single and living alone.

You wondered if they had kids.

“... come in!”

You zoned back in from being lost in your thoughts to catch only the end of what Vision was saying. He stepped back from the doorway and held the door open for you and looked at you expectantly and, not wanting to make more of a fool of yourself that you already have in front of him today, you made your way inside, just hoping he hadn’t said anything important while you had been wondering about his romantic life. You felt heat on your ears and cheeks.

Vision, on the other hand, didn’t seem bothered in the slightest. Now that the Harts were gone, he appeared much more relaxed, leaning on the door with one leg crossed over the other and even smiling at you as you walked into his spacious and already unpacked living room.

That was the first time you’ve seen him smile, you noted. He had a very charming smile, one of those that made his eyes smile too and seemed much more in place on his face than any other expression.

Vision closed the door behind you as you looked around the space with mild surprise—how long have they been moved in? How had they gotten unpacked so fast?—then he gave you a friendly squeeze on the shoulder. It was then that you noticed more clattering coming from behind a door that you assumed belonged to the kitchen.

“If you’ll excuse me for just a moment,” he said, making his way to said door, “As you know, my wife and I just finished dinner with the Harts, and my darling Wanda is doing all the dishes. I’ll tell her to wait a moment and come join us! Do you drink fluids?” You must have looked at him oddly because then he stumbled on his words a bit before clarifying, “Alcohol? Or would you like water, juice?”

He certainly did talk with his hands a lot. You liked the way he clasped his hands and fiddled with his fingers while trying to untangle his words.

“Water’s fine,” you replied with a friendly smile.

Seeing that you weren’t bothered by his slip-up, he smiled back and made his way into the kitchen. Halfway through the door, he chirped over his shoulder, “Please feel free to take a seat! I’ll return momentarily!”

Being alone again for only a few minutes still had you beginning to feel the weight of the day’s chaos again. You placed your housewarming gift on the coffee table and rubbed where the pot had been digging into your arm, then wriggled your toes; because these were shoes for special social occasions only, something you didn’t go to very often, they weren’t very well broke in and your feet were beginning to hurt.

The clattering in the kitchen had stopped but now the muffled voices of Vision and Wanda, which was somehow comforting. You looked around, taking in the classy but simple room. How on earth they’d managed to get unpacked so fast unless they used a company or stylist or somehow bought the place pre-furnished, you had no idea—well, you had a few, clearly. It was still surprising though. However they managed, you hoped your own living area looked half as nice. When you got around to it.

You perked up again as you heard the kitchen door creak… and then felt like your heart exploded into a billion heart-shaped butterflies that immediately found a home in your stomach.

If Vision was a dreamboat, his wife was a, well, literal vision. Wanda wore a dress that was just as simple and charming as the house she lived in, paired with a pretty necklace and pair of heels. Her curled hair perfectly framed her face and despite appearing as frazzled as Vision had when you first showed up at their doorstep, she wore a smile so gorgeous that your heart, which had apparently recovered from its explosion of butterflies, decided it preferred to do somersaults in your throat.

The pair of them were standing hip to hip with Wanda carrying a set of glasses and Vision a pitcher of water. They were chatting lightly about how well dinner went as they walked into the living room before turning their set of beaming smiles in your direction.

Your body couldn’t decide whether it wanted to melt, tie itself in knots, or spontaneously combust. You decided to make it stand to properly introduce yourself instead.

Just living in the same neighborhood as these two was going to be cataclysmic.

“Wanda, darling, this is my coworker [Y/N], the one I told you about earlier this evening.” Vision detached himself from his partner’s side and began snagging glasses from her hands to fill and place on the coffee table as she walked closer. “And [Y/N], this is my wife, Wanda.”

You and Wanda watched him hop around from her to the coffee table and back two more times with amusement, then Wanda looked at you and gave an incredulous shake of her head, offering her hand. “Hi, hon. Don’t mind him; he’s not usually this dancy but dinner with the boss was a bit unexpected on both our parts. I had to pull something together last minute and he’s trying to make up for it.”

“You did so much in such a short amount of time,” Vision added, finally settling on the couch beside Wanda after the two of you shook hands and got seated. “You deserve a break. I can handle filling a few glasses and doing up the dishes.”

“Speaking of which, I hope you got a break yourself, [Y/N].” Wanda’s comment and concerned look made your eyebrows raise with confusion. She elaborated, “Vision mentioned covering for you at work today.”

You flushed slightly and rubbed the side of your neck. Vision noticed and gave you an apologetic look.

“Oh, yes,” you replied, “I get these awful migraines sometimes. One just happened to hit me at a particularly bad time today and I fell and knocked over a bunch of files. Your husband was an angel, did something he absolutely didn’t need to do and said it was all his fault.”

“And yet you got punished anyway,” Vision said, still looking apologetic. He wrung his hands a bit as well; you wanted to hold them to make him stop.

Wanda did instead, giving him the sweetest smile in the process.

“But if it weren’t for you,” you chirped, “I may have just gotten fired. So I have to thank you for that. And I can’t imagine how that may have affected your dinner tonight, if I had known you were having the big boss dinner tonight, I wouldn’t have let you. I’m so sorry, by the way, for barging in immediately after your dinner, too; you two must be exhausted!”

“Oh, nonsense,” Wanda piped up again. She patted you on the wrist; you kind of wished she’d left her hand there but she went to pick up her water instead. “Dinner went quite well actually, if not a bit ill-planned. We had a bit of a misunderstanding of what the calendar said.” She gave Vision a playful glare and he responded with a bashful smile that he tried to hide by running a hand over his face.

“I drew a heart, for Hart,” he explained. “We forgot and thought we missed an anniversary instead.”

You thought back to when Mr. Hart mentioned the dinner at the office and Vision had made a heart with his hands, then tried to suppress a grin of your own. “That’s an easy misunderstanding. Happy to hear I’m not the only one good with planning, though, no offense.”

“Well, maybe you two should be married.” Wanda glanced between the two of you, the playful look in her dark eyes paired with her suggestion making your throat dry.

“You couldn’t remember it either, darling,” Vision countered, giving her a peck on the forehead, “If that’s the case, maybe all three of us were meant to be.”

You went to swallow and ended up having to suppress a choke. You reached for your glass, only to see it empty—when did you do that?—but Wanda was quick to refill it.

You gave her a sheepish smile and soft “Thanks” in return, took a drink and decided to play along. “That would explain why we ended up living directly across from the street and why I’ve been single almost my entire life.”

You mentally kicked yourself for mentioning that last part and coming off way too desperate. However, when you glanced the couple’s way, Vision was chuckling, and Wanda was giving an understanding nod with a pleased look on her face. Maybe she thought her joke was going to hit wrong? Maybe it hadn’t been a joke?

Don’t get your hopes up, you thought.

Then Wanda spoke again. “You must be joking. You’re living on your own in that house?”

You shrugged and responded, “I have a fish.”

“I’m sure they’re wonderful conversation,” Wanda quipped back.

“No romantic interest in sight?” Vision asked.

Well, I wouldn’t say that but I’m certainly not going into that right now. You shook your head and decided to shift the conversation to a topic that was less likely to make you feel, if either or both of them did happen to ask you to marry them at that very moment, as if you would immediately throw yourselves at them. “Speaking of houses and all that, what a coincidence that we happen to find each other living next door the same day we meet. That’s what I originally came over to do, introduce myself to my neighbors and give you a housewarming gift.”

You gestured to the pachira on the coffee table and Wanda reached over to touch its leaves, then used Vision’s still-full water glass to water it. “That’s right. It is a lovely plant, thank you very much. I think it will look nice in the kitchen, or perhaps over by the window.”

“It’s supposed to bring good luck to the house,” you offered, “and red ribbons are often associated with it but I’m not sure why.”

“Well here’s to good luck then,” Wanda said, clinking Vision’s empty cup with your half-full one. She read the card you’d attached, smiled, then picked up the plant and offered it to her husband. “Here, dear. Since you’re taking on the role of house-husband tonight, why not take this and see how it looks over by the window.”

Vision was already standing and taking the plant from her hands before she finished her sentence. “Of course, darling. Tell me where you think it looks nice.” Then he added to you as he walked by, “I may be skilled many things, like filling out computational forms, but the interior decorating is all her. I’m practically color-blind. And furniture-blind. And generally design-blind. Possibly blind-blind, if I’m being honest.”

Wanda rolled her eyes but she still giggled, then pointed out where she thought the plant would look best. It was off to one side of the window and she explained that she thought it would be visible from your window as well, and thus give both houses good luck.

“Maybe it will give me the luck to finally unpack and decorate like you two already have,” you pondered allowed, finishing off your water a second time; Wanda promptly offered to fill your cup again but you politely declined. “The two of you have been here, what? At least a few days now and your home is already made in the shade. I’ve been here in Westview a month if not more and I usually spend my time lounging on a couch made of crates and boxes.”

You noticed Vision glance oddly at his wife as he sat back down but Wanda didn’t seem to catch it. Still, she answered quite quickly, “We used a company.”

“Ah.” You glanced between them but the strained energy that suddenly appeared just as quickly as it came when Wanda gave you another sweet smile and offered to write down the company name for you. “No need, I couldn’t afford it anyway. Thank you, though.”

That response didn’t seem to please Wanda all that much. She pursed her lips in a way that looked partially pondering and partially pouty—it was a very cute pout—before leaning over to Vision and muttering in his ear. His attention was immediately drawn to focus only on her and they chatted quietly among themselves for a few moments.

You suddenly felt awkward again and took to looking around a bit. You first looked at your feet and noticed how close one of Wanda’s own was to yours; in fact, the three of you were sitting so close together that her dress poofed out over your leg. Then you happened to look over at where your arm was resting across the back of the couch. Vision’s was too and you suddenly became keenly aware of how, if he were to start talking with his hands like he does, his would most definitely brush your own. You wondered if it already had while you were too engrossed in conversation to notice, then you wondered if you should move farther to the other side of the couch.

You began shifting to do so when Wanda suddenly leaned back to her normal spot and grabbed your wrist. “Why don’t we come over sometime this weekend and help you unpack?”

You blinked. She seemed closer than she had been earlier, or maybe it was just the fact that hand hadn’t pulled away yet. Her eyes were as bright and welcoming as they had been since you first saw them, eyebrows raised in what you could only place as eagerness, and you officially decided that if you were to look up the word “sweet” in a dictionary, there’d be a picture of her smile.

You were so suddenly flustered that for a moment all you did was stare while you figured out how to talk again. When you did, you were surprised at confident your voice sounded when you replied, “Sure.”

“Great!”

Wanda and Vision looked equally excited when you looked at them both, which confused you before you remembered that you were only the second person from the neighborhood to visit them since they moved in. Thinking of it now, you were also feeling energetic from the conversation and not just because you happened to be sitting next to a very attractive-looking pair. This was the first time you sat down with people from the neighborhood and it did not only go well but you were thoroughly enjoying yourself; you also enjoyed spending time with Agnes but Agnes was just outwardly friendly to everybody and even if you ran out of things to say, she had enough stories to add filler to seven different conversations at the same time. Wanda and Vision seemed to be just as awkward as you, making unusual jokes that might not make it through and fumbling over themselves and on occasion just being awkwardly silent at times, but it was a weird kind of awkwardness that also felt comfortable, comforting. You felt like you were among friends.

Conversation flowed easily for the rest of the night. The three of you made plans to spend the next day at your place, unpacking and decorating and just getting to know each other better, then conversation shifted smoothly from one random topic to another. Wanda had a lot of questions about the neighborhood and the people in it and she and you swapped stories of first meeting Agnes. You were somewhat fascinated with Vision’s almost eidetic memory and couldn’t help quizzing him on random subjects but luckily, he seemed to be just as eager to answer. Wanda mentioned Vision’s ability to play ukulele at one point and he felt is was absolutely necessary to perform and after mentioning Wanda’s breakfast cooking ability—and your stomach grumbling in curiosity—she brought you to the kitchen and made the best breakfast you’d ever had, despite it not being morning, while Vision kept to his word and washed the dishes. Eventually, though, the night caught up to the each of you and you said your goodbyes, hugs included, at the door and you headed back home with a goofy grin on your face.

Upon getting home, you kicked off your shoes that you’d long since forgotten were causing your feet pain and went to your bedroom. You quickly stripped, put on your bedwear, and faceplanted onto your sheets. You laid there for a moment in comfortable bliss before turning your head and catching yourself in the mirror. Though looking utterly exhausted, it was mixed an almost childish happiness. You finally felt content in Westview, like you’d finally found your place.

You scrambled around to get under the covers and curled up. Quickly dozing off and still grinning, you muttered, “I think I’ll like it here.”

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