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shireness-says · 5 years

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Playing the Part ch. 11: Why So Silent?

Summary: As a stage manager who’s clawed her way up from the bottom, Emma Swan can handle just about anything thrown her way. But does that include handsome lead actor Killian Jones? A CS Broadway AU. Rated T. Also on AO3. Prologue Ch. 1 Ch. 2 Ch. 3 Ch. 4 Ch. 5 Ch. 6 Ch. 7 Ch. 8 Ch. 9 Ch. 10

A/N: Here we are: the fallout from the holiday party. Sorry?

Chapter title from “The Phantom of the Opera” and suggested by my fantastic beta, @snidgetsafan. Thanks for that, for your beta services, and for reassuring me about what I did this chapter.

I did a count this morning, and if all goes to plan - or to outline, rather - then this story will have 19 parts. That’s 6 more chapters and an epilogue, so you can all breathe a sigh of relief that we’re halfway through this nonsense. Thanks for sticking with me.

Tags: @kmomof4, @winterbaby89, @thejollyroger-writer, @mythologicalmango, @onceuponaprincessworld, @idristardis, @teamhook, @courtorderedcake, @aerica13, @revanmeetra87, @snowbellewells, @searchingwardrobes. If you want to be tagged going forward (or taken off this list - I won’t be insulted!), shoot me a message, and I’ll make it happen.

Enjoy, and let me know what you think!

Emma wakes up in her bed the day after the holiday party with a headache, dry mouth, and regret. Plenty of regret.

At first, it’s just a vague regret, one she attributes to the knowledge she drank too much and an all-too-keen awareness of how her brain is pounding in her head, attempting to forcibly squeeze out through her ears. As she readjusts to the waking world, however, it all comes rushing back. The holiday party. Drinking on the balcony. Killian.

Fuck.

Images of the night before flash behind her eyelids and Emma groans, and not just from the physical pain. God, she was a mess. Mortification courses through her veins, leaving Emma tempted to just crawl underneath the covers again and never come back out. She just might have done it, too, if the bedroom door hadn’t squealed open at that exact moment. I really need to get some Pam on those hinges, Emma idly thinks as she flops her head over to face the door and is met by Mary Margaret’s head, cautiously peeking through the crack. That hesitance doesn’t last long, though, as once her friend ascertains that Emma is indeed awake, she fully walks through the door with a perky smile on her face and cups of what Emma can only hope is very strong coffee in her hands.

“I thought I heard you!” she chirps, pulling an apologetic face when Emma winces at the pitch. Honestly, fuck this hangover. “Sorry,” she says in a much mellower tone of voice. “Here, have some coffee.”

“Oh thank god,” Emma responds, hastily reaching for the offered cup. “You’re a living saint, Mary Margaret.”

“There’s bagels in the kitchen, too, if you feel up to getting out of bed. Oh! And,” she chirps, sending another stab of pain through Emma’s skull as she starts fishing through her pockets, finally coming up with a small plastic tube, “I found Advil. Just my little travel size, but it’ll work, right?”

Emma nods as best she can when attempting to inhale her coffee, motioning with her free hand to hand over one of the capsules. “Thanks,” she rasps when Mary Margaret hands the little salmon-colored tablets over to her. A thought strikes her suddenly, a drunken half-memory creeping through, and Emma groans again. “Don’t tell me you slept on the couch last night.”

“I didn’t sleep on the couch last night,” Mary Margaret reassures, before pausing. Somehow, there’s a sense of a ‘but’ coming, though there really shouldn’t be. Sure enough, though, Mary Margaret continues. “I slept in Henry’s room.”

“Oh, M’s…” Emma groans. “You didn’t have to do that!”

“Oh, I think I did,” she argues right back. “You were very insistent last night that you didn’t want to be left alone.”

“Of fucking course I was,” Emma mutters to herself.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Mary Margaret offers kindly, ever the mother.

Easy answer, that. “Nope,” Emma answers curtly. Fueled by embarrassment and a desire to get as far away as possible from this conversation, she manages to swing her legs out from under the covers and haul herself out of bed to make her way to the bathroom, though she regrets it all the while. Cold air and nausea-inducing movement are much less pleasant than the cozy warmth of the many layers of blankets on her bed.

Brushing her teeth and taking a moment to look marginally less gross helps, but Emma’s still not quite ready to dissect the whole thing with Mary Margaret. Unfortunately, her friend isn’t quite on the same page. Emma had anticipated as such, and is already braced and ready when she walks back in to find some clothes.

Sure enough, Mary Margaret tries to jump in as soon as she walks back into the room. “If you want to talk about last night, Emma — ”

“Don’t you have that appointment this morning?” Emma quickly interrupts, the words already waiting on her tongue. “Miss Blue really won’t be pleased if you’re late, and it’s already almost nine. You’ve got to get going if you want to stop at your place before the theater.” There may or may not have been an incident Tuesday evening where a seam in one of Mary Margaret’s gowns was ripped while she and David were playing tonsil hockey (or whatever the kids say these days). Ruby had quickly tacked it for Wednesday’s matinee, but the production’s petite yet intimidating costume designer had wanted to supervise the permanent repair, supposedly to ensure the fit was correct. Personally, Emma suspects that Mary Margaret is in for a talking-to. If her friend’s blanched face upon initially receiving word of her appointment was any indication, Mary Margaret thinks the same. It’s a low, dirty move of a distraction, but Emma knows M’s won’t risk being late to a professional obligation - both for her own sake and for Emma’s, knowing that these kind of snafus directly increase the amount of stress Emma has to deal with.

The look Mary Margaret gives her is unimpressed - the look of a woman who knows exactly what Emma’s attempting and is not fooled in the least. “Don’t think you’re getting out of this,” she warns. “I’m just about to leave because you just happen to be correct about the time, not because I’m letting you drop this subject. We will pick this up later, and you’ll feel better for it afterwards. Promise?”

Emma hums noncommittally. She’d much prefer to drop the whole thing and pretend it never happened until the end of time. That doesn’t fly with her friend however, as Mary Margaret’s unimpressed look only sharpens.

“I’m serious, Emma. Promise me we’ll talk about it later?”

“Yes, fine, Mom, I promise,” Emma sighs in exasperation, rolling her eyes. The latter was probably a bad idea; it doesn’t help the headache in the least. “Now for the love of God, get out of here before you’re late.”

“Alright,” Mary Margaret agrees, somewhat hesitantly. “But call me if you need anything, ok? And make sure you eat that bagel, the bread and the protein in the cream cheese will do you good.”

“I will, ok?” Emma all but snaps. Subconsciously, she knows that she’s only reacting in this way due to embarrassment, but for the moment she just wants Mary Margaret out of her apartment, good intentions aside, so that she can wallow in her mortification in peace.

A flash of guilt streaks through Emma as her friend fixes her with a disapproving stare, but Mary Margaret still gathers her coat and heads for the door. “I’m just trying to help, Emma,” she says quietly, disappointment coloring her voice and turning the flash of guilt into a deeply stabbing knife.

Emma sighs, deflating. “I know. I’m sorry,” she says. “Blame it on the hangover. I’ll be better once I get some food into my system. I’ll see you tonight, alright?”

“Alright,” Mary Margaret agrees, before stepping forward to envelop Emma in a tight hug. “Feel better,” she whispers. With a last squeeze she departs, leaving Emma to the silence of her empty apartment.

(Somehow, even though it’s exactly what she wanted mere minutes ago, she hates every silent second of it.)

———

She’s an absolute child, is the thing, between the clinginess last night and her outburst this morning. Might as well go for the hat trick of immaturity and react to her embarrassment by avoiding all witnesses to the event that’s warranted it. Mary Margaret she’s avoiding for obvious reasons - Emma has no intention to discuss the matter, but knows her traitor mouth might betray her anyways when faced with her friend’s gentle insistence. Killian though… she knows he isn’t judging her for her behavior, can see it in the gentle smiles he offers her, and doubts he’d make her discuss the matter, but Emma avoids him all the same out of shame. Merely being in his presence makes her burn with embarrassment at the memory of that evening, and she seeks to evade any reminders of that whenever possible. He doesn’t deserve this treatment, which makes Emma feel slightly guilty - Killian’s a genuinely good guy, kind and charming and (dare she say it?) handsome, someone who she’d want to know more intimately under different circumstances - but she’s compelled to act on a self-preservational instinct.

New Year’s passes with Emma ducking around corners and passing secondhand messages. Henry eventually returns from his vacation with his dad, less enchanted with skiing than before he left - “It’s hard, Mom, and who wants to be out in the cold all day?” - Emma’s good mood returning with him, but another Wednesday comes and goes with her avoidance tactics still in full force. Seeing Emma cheery again, Mary Margaret seems inclined to let go of her determined attempts to dissect the incident now that a week has passed, and Emma can almost put the whole thing behind her. Still, though, the memory persists, and with it, Emma’s avoidance of Killian.

It won’t last forever - at least, she doesn’t think so - but for now, a mere week and some change later, the tactic is here to stay.

———

Emma is avoiding him. Again.

It feels a bit like two months ago again, except this time, Killian can’t figure out what he did wrong. All he knows is that Emma is avoiding him at all costs, ducking around corners when she sees him coming and relaying messages through intermediaries when necessary. And it hurts.

Thinking back, the closest he can figure is that all this started right after the Christmas party, when he watched over Emma in her intoxicated state. Though he meant well, he must have overstepped her boundaries that evening. With growing sadness, Killian realizes he likely blew any chance he might have had of even remaining friends with Emma with what must have been a blatant disregard of her understandable restrictions and concerns. Even if he just meant to make sure she was alright, he must have come off as a real arse. Eventually, he’ll be kicking himself over the whole thing, but for the moment he just feels sad.

He misses her, is the thing, even though he feels like he doesn’t deserve to, not since this is all his fault. He’d thought they were making such good progress too; a simple conversation with Emma can brighten his whole day, and without that to look forward to, everything seems dimmer. He misses her sarcasm, and her dry sense of humor, the way she doesn’t mince her words and snorts when she laughs, the way her smiles may not be easy to earn (except for where her boy is concerned), but so worth it when they make an appearance. He’s fully aware that he’s a pathetic bastard, but ultimately, he can’t help it.

Though Killian is sure everyone has noticed by now how desperate Emma is to avoid him, and how morose he is in turn, it’s Robin of all people who broaches the subject and stops tiptoeing around the matter.

“How are you doing, Killian?” he asks, voice filled with more concern that Killian really deserves. He’d come up to the booth for a meeting they should never have needed to have about finding his spot, Killian frustratingly distracted by his emotional turmoil and nearly missing his marks two days in a row. Ostensibly, they’d met to review where Killian needed to stand each time and whether Robin needed to adjust anything, but it seems more like an excuse for Robin to prod him about the source of the distraction rather than the side effects it creates.

Killian initially just shrugs, humming noncommittally at the other man’s inquiry. It feels a bit weird getting into this with Robin - though they get along well enough, he doesn’t actually know Robin that well, and the lighting designer is definitely more Emma’s friend than Killian’s. There’s a bad joke about losing friends in the platonic divorce bubbling at the back of his throat, but his persistent melancholy keeps it from finding a voice. Ironic, this - he and Emma have switched places emotionally from the circumstances that started all this.

“Really, now,” the other man persists, “I know something’s the matter. Emma’s been acting odd all week, and you’ve seemed down ever since. Now, I may not be some rocket scientist or statistics whiz,” he jokes, “but I’m sensing a correlation. So: how are you doing, Killian?”

Faced with that gentle opposition, Killian cracks. Perhaps it’s a sign that he’s wanted to talk about this all along with someone who knows all the players. “I don’t even know what’s the matter, not really,” he confides. “I just know that for some reason, Emma is avoiding me.” Privately, he suspects it’s a direct result of the events of the other night, but he doesn’t feel comfortable sharing the details without Emma’s knowledge or permission. It hurts, knowing that despite his best efforts to assist Emma as best he can while still respecting her boundaries - her reasonable boundaries, which he agrees with - she still feels avoidance to be necessary. “I think we all know how I feel about Emma,” he chuckles, the words eliciting a snort from Robin in return, “but I’m starting to wonder if maybe I should just… let it go. Find a way to move past my feelings. Not because I want to,” he hastens to add, “but because she seems to want me to. I’m willing to be persistent, but after a certain point… it all seems like a hint to go away. And maybe it’s about time I took that hint.”

Robin just stares back, more skeptical than Killian expected. Granted, he hadn’t expected skepticism at all, so any amount is rather unexpected. “Seriously?”

“... Yes?”

Robin lets out a snort. “Oh lord. Killian, my good man, let me tell you a secret.” He leans in conspiratorially, Killian meeting him halfway out of some bizarre sense of courtesy. Robin, the absolute bastard, lets the moment dramatically sit a moment longer before whispering melodramatically, “Emma’s got a thing for you too.”

Killian rears back, face suddenly twisting into an expression of annoyed disbelief as Robin raises his eyebrows knowingly. “Really?” he deadpans. “Now that’s just mean. Childish, even, taunting a man like that.”

“I’m serious!” Robin protests. “She absolutely, one-hundred-percent has a thing for you. If you want to get truly childish, really embrace this middle-school mentality you’re accusing me of,” he smirks, “then I’d say she likes you. Likes likes you. Please, trust the man shut into a woefully small space with her every day on this one.”

Still, Killian scoffs. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve seen absolutely no proof of that.”

“Yes, well, you’re not the one witnessing the banter and the little blushing smiles and the way she stares at your arse in that costume. Seriously, mate, it’s almost nauseating. Not quite as bad as Nolan and Blanchard, but…” he trails off, his point clear.

“She never said anything!” Killian weakly protests. Like that’s a thing people actually do - walk up and tell the object of their affections how they feel.

“Yes, well, that would require Emma actually being willing to admit to herself that she fancies you, and that’s proven to be a stretch too far,” Robin parries, voice dry but sage, before softening. “Look, if you want my advice, don’t give up on her yet. I know from experience - the best ones will lead you on a merry chase,” he tells Killian somewhat wistfully. Killian almost cracks a jab about the other man’s own enamorment of Regina Mills, but restrains himself upon seeing the melancholy-tinged reminiscence gracing Robin’s face, instead waiting for the man to reveal his train of thought in his own time.

Shortly, Robin seems to remember Killian’s presence, smiling sheepishly. “My wife - Marian, her name was - was an opera singer, part of the chorus at the Met, back when I was just some young upstart, full of confidence and no real chance to prove it yet. It was love at first sight on my part, as cliche as that sounds, and she had approximately no time or patience for me, some young puppy following at her heels,” he laughs, eyes crinkling in a way that Killian knows is caused by warm memories. “But whether out of hope or determination or pure obliviousness, I held out hope, and look what it got me. Five of the happiest years of my life and a wonderful son.” He smiles, face flooded with the look of a truly content man. “Look, you have to do whatever is best for you, I understand and support that one hundred percent. I just want to encourage you not to throw in the towel just yet - not while I still think there’s hope.”

The words are comforting, and even if Killian was feeling somewhat despondent just minutes before, he’s suddenly reinvigorated with a new sense of just what Robin urged him to have - hope. “Thank you,” he replies softly, a small smile starting to form on his face. “That’s, uh…” he pauses, not sure how to continue, how to express the bolstering impact Robin’s had with his words, and settles for simple gratitude instead. “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” Robin smiles back, offering a comforting and companionable pat on the shoulder before turning back to the task at hand. “Now, let me show you again exactly where the spot is gonna hit, even if you really ought to know this by now, and I’ll have you go mark it, okay?”

———

She should have known she wouldn’t be able to avoid all interactions forever, or at least not those with Mary Margaret. Emma could swear the petite brunette has magic, what with the way she always seems to appear just when Emma is hoping to avoid her. Who knows, maybe the name of that pixie cut denotes more than just a style, and is instead a hint that Mary Margaret is actually a devious fairy. Stranger things have happened, surely.

Regardless of whether or not Mary Margaret possesses magical teleportation powers, that doesn’t change the fact that she eventually catches up to Emma, her face displaying that awful combination of half hurt and half disappointment usually only displayed by parents (or so Emma’s heard).

“Are we ever going to talk about the Christmas party?” she asks in a tone that suggests she thinks it’s been more than long enough of a wait.

“Not if I can help it,” Emma mumbles back under her breath, but Mary Margaret’s keen ears catch the words all the same.

“Emma, you can’t run from this conversation forever,” she scolds. “I know you don’t want to rehash it, but I really think you’ll feel better once you do. It’ll let you stop lingering on it.”

“I’m not lingering on anything,” Emma argues. “Henry’s home again, so everything’s fine. And, not to gloat or anything, but he didn’t have nearly as much fun as he expected. I’m still my kid’s favorite, all’s right with the world, no need to talk through whatever last Wednesday was. I’m good, really.”

Mary Margaret stares back skeptically, that disapproving frown still dominating her face. “Really, you’re good?” she demands. “You sure you’re not lingering? Because avoiding — ” she interrupts herself to peer around, seemingly checking that no one is listening — “avoiding Killian doesn’t seem like something a person who’s completely past the matter would do.”

“I’m not avoiding Killian,” Emma insists stubbornly. “I can’t help if we haven’t run into each other this week. It happens.”

“Oh, please,” Mary Margaret shoots back. “I’m optimistic, not stupid. You’ve practically run in the other direction whenever you see him coming. It’s a damn good thing there haven’t been any major issues you were both involved in the past few days, or God only knows how that would have been resolved.”

Well, she’s got Emma there. “So what if I am? Seems like that’s my business. What does it matter to you?”

“I just want you to be happy, Emma,” Mary Margaret wheedles in that way of hers. The pure cloying sentiment of her words and intent nearly make Emma gag. “And this hasn’t been a happy week for you. I can only imagine this self-imposed separation from Killian - usually one of your greatest supporters - is part of that. What happened?” She gasps suddenly. “Oh god, he didn’t do anything before I picked you up, did he?”

“No, no, God no,” Emma rushes to reassure.

“What then? I can’t understand it.”

“Look, I’m embarrassed, ok?” Emma snaps. “I was not at my best that night, and I don’t really want to face what Jones - one of my coworkers - thinks of me after that display, pity or disgust or whatever else. I don’t want to deal with it, so I haven’t.”

There’s an unexpected snort from behind the women, and Emma whirls to see Regina, standing there looking deeply amused. “You’re aware that Jones thinks the sun shines out of your ass, right?”

Mary Margaret gasps next to Emma, though it’s more likely that she’s less shocked over Regina’s presence than about her use of language. Figures.

“I wasn’t eavesdropping,” Regina clarifies somewhat haughtily, “it’s just that neither of you are particularly good at watching your volume. But I say again: you do know that Jones thinks you personally are responsible for the sun coming up each morning? Thinks you’re the greatest thing since sliced bread? That you hung the stars? Etcetera, etcetera, must I continue?”

“She’s got a point, Emma,” Mary Margaret contributes, her tone vaguely apologetic.

Regina smiles smugly at that, before continuing. “Look, I’m just saying, I don’t think there’s much that would change his mind, and that probably includes whatever you did the other night that you’re so embarrassed about. Did you hit him?”

“No,” Emma replies, rolling her eyes.

“Insult his mother?”

“No.”

“Run down the street buck-ass naked declaring your allegiance to some space alien dictatorship?”

“Christ Almighty, no!” God, where did Regina even come up with that?

“Ok, then I’m sure he doesn’t blame you for anything. And anyone with two eyes can see that you don’t need or want pity, which is pretty effective at keeping it away. So what are you worrying about?” Her tone softens somewhat at the stubborn set of Emma’s jaw (a stubborn expression that hides her insecurity about the whole matter, but Regina doesn’t need to know that). “Look, you can do whatever you want, Miss Swan. Lord knows we certainly can’t stop you,” she declares with a knowing look to Mary Margaret, “but what I can tell you - and I’m sure Miss Blanchard can as well - Jones has seemed sad and confused and even hurt ever since you began your little avoidance game. The way I see it, you’re protecting yourself from something that isn’t going to happen anyways, and we’re all witnessing the fallout. If you don’t want anything to do with Jones, that’s fine, that’s your prerogative, but you can’t keep up this ridiculous ducking around corners and speaking through the ASMs. Let it go on long enough, and it’s going to undermine your power - which I’m sure is the last thing you want.”

Emma hadn’t thought of it like that, far too caught up in her immediate mortification to truly think through its consequences. Hell, the entire reason she gave for turning Killian down in the first place was fear of a relationship affecting things at work; according to Regina, Emma’s brought exactly what she feared to come to pass, without even the benefit of a relationship as an excuse. Fan-fucking-tastic. She groans in realization.

“Yes, I think that about sums it up,” Regina comments drily. Emma shoots her a glare in response - entirely warranted, in her opinion, especially since Regina’s opinion is so unasked for.

“We don’t want to guilt you, Emma,” Mary Margaret puts in more gently, shooting her own look in Regina’s direction as the latter sounds a dissenting hum. “Like I said: we just want you to be happy, and this? This isn’t making you - or Killian, for that matter - happy.”

(Emma think that statement is effectively the same thing as guilting her, but she doesn’t have the energy right now to argue that.)

“Look, I’ll think about everything you both said. Happy?” Even if Mary Margaret and Regina are correct, Emma’s not really in the mood to admit it right now.

Mary Margaret nods, though the movement seems reluctant. It’s the best she’s going to get right now, though, so she’ll have to be happy with it. “But about the thing with Neal and Henry - ”

“Honestly, I haven’t even thought about that since Henry returned. Funny how that solved the issue. Really, Mary Margaret, can we just drop it? I’ll admit to ‘lingering’ or whatever, but honestly, the Henry and Neal thing that started it all has been the furthest thing from my mind. Which means no need to to talk about it or… whatever.”

“If you’re sure…” Mary Margaret finally agrees hesitantly.

“God, yes, I’m sure. It’s my one real dream to drop this. Please. Immediately. Like, yesterday.” That, at least, draws a laugh out of even Regina, Mary Margaret shaking her head with affection. “Now, I think we all have things to do or places we’d rather be, so can we, you know, get to it instead of standing around doing whatever this is?”

By some miracle, both women comply, even if Mary Margaret is hesitant. Eventually, Emma will probably appreciate the conversation they’ve all just suffered through, but for now, she just wants to be alone.

After all, she’s got an awful lot to think about.

———

In the end, things go back to normal out of Emma’s own volition - no more pestering friends and, unlike last time, no need for Killian to come convince her. The insecure part of Emma whispers that the fact that he wasn’t fighting for her and their… whatever dynamic this time is a sign that his affections have changed, that he’s no longer interested in her in any way, romantic or otherwise, but his near-palpable relief when Emma breaks her silence to ask him if he’s seen Belle dispels that notion.

“Missed you, Swan!” he calls with a wink (well, his facsimile of a wink) as she wanders off in the indicated direction.

(And if she blushes at the return of his casual affection, well, that’s her business - as is the acknowledgement that she maybe missed him too.)

#cs ff #my writing #Playing the Part #Why So Silent?#actor!Killian #stage manager!Emma #and a truckload of embarassment #as one does

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imjustthemechanic · 6 years

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The Stone Knight

Part 1/? - Two Statues Part 2/? - A Curious Interview Part 3/? - John Doe Part 4/? - Escape Attempt Part 5/? - Making the News Part 6/? - Fallout Part 7/? - More Impossible Part 8/? - The Shield Thieves Part 9/? - Reality Sinks In Part 10/? - Preparing a Quest Part 11/? - The Marvelous History of Sir Stephen Part 12/? - Uninvited Guests Part 13/? - So That’s What It Does Part 14/? - The What and the Where Part 15/? - Gearing Up Part 16/? - Just Passing Through Part 17/? - Dinner with Druids Part 18/? - Kracness Henge Part 19/? - A Task Interrupted Part 20/? - The Red Death Part 21/? - Aphelion Part 22/? - The Stone Giants Part 23/? - Nat the Giant Killer Part 24/? - An Interrogation Part 25/? - Guilt Part 26/? - Rushman’s Brilliant Idea Part 27/? - Hunter in Hiding Part 28/? - Ridiculous Part 29/? - The Guy from Barton Part 30/? - Sherwood Forest Part 31/? - Buckeye’s Fall Part 32/? - Robin Hood Part 33/? - Fantasies and Consequences

Sir Stephen explains what’s going on to Robin Hood, and Natasha and Allen actually kind of bond a little.

They found a Bed and Breakfast in the town, and while Nat distracted the middle-aged couple who ran it, Sam and Allen helped Robin Hood up the stairs to the room. When Nat joined them, she found Robin out of his jacket and tunic but still in handcuffs, lying on his side on the bed. Without the clothing, Nat could see another of ivory pendants, hanging on a leather cord around his neck. Sam had gotten the arrowhead out of Robin’s side, and was now cleaning the wound with peroxide from the room’s first aid kit. Allen was holding the kit and handing Sam things when he asked for them, which Natasha suspected was not the most efficient thing to do but might be helping to assuage his guilt.

“If you guys are the ones who tried to kill me in the first place, why are you patching me up?” Robin asked. “Is Nottingham’s bounty that much more for me alive?”

“Would you believe we’re doing it out of the goodness of our hearts?” asked Nat.

“Not when you’re the ones who hurt me,” Robin repeated. “You said you hit me – who stabbed me?”

“That was me,” said Allen, raising a sheepish hand.

“And I’m trying to sew you up,” said Sam. “So stop moving, or I’m gonna end up stabbing you again.”

“Doctors are supposed to get you drunk before they go sawing things off you,” Robin complained. “That stuff I found stashed in the woods doesn’t count. My grandmother’s cider is stronger.”

Natasha cocked her head and considered the situation. Robin was lying on a brightly patterned comforter on a soft bed in a room that was lit without fire and decorated in a style that would have been considered palatial in the twelfth century. In movies, time travellers always seemed astonished by the future, pointing at and questioning every little thing, or blaming it on witchcraft. When Sir Stephen had taken it all in stride, her first instinct had been to think he was subconsciously remembering that these things were normal and harmless. That had turned out to not be true, but now she wondered if it were true of Robin Hood. Was he recalling his modern alter ego?

“Where do you think you are?” she asked him.

Robin winced as Sam stuck the needle into him again. “Hell if I know,” he said. “Somebody’s manor. Anyone who has the money for a place like this doesn’t need the bounty from turning me in.”

“And how do you think you got here?” asked Nat.

“In your fancy little wagon out there,” said Robin. “Is that a trick question?”

“Doesn’t any of this seem just a little weird to you?” she wanted to know.

He sat up a little to look around the room, but it didn’t last long as Sam pushed him back into a reclining position.

“Stop moving,” Sam repeated.

Robin sighed. “If you’re trying to impress me, I’m impressed,” he said. “I don’t know where I am or what half this stuff is. I’m not gonna worry about it right now, because I’m too busy worrying about how long I’ve got before you throw me off a chair with a rope around my neck. Okay?”

That, Nat supposed, was fair.

By the time Sam had finished with Robin’s arrow wound, Sir Stephen and Sharon had arrived. They’d stopped for pizza and more first aid supplies, and as they walked in, Robin looked up from watching Sam put bandages on him, and breathed in deeply.

“That smells great, whatever it is,” he said, his eyes going directly to the pizza boxes Sir Stephen was carrying. “I’m betting I don’t get any.”

“That depends,” said Nat. “We’re gonna have to un-cuff you so you can eat it. Do you promise you won’t attack anybody again?” They’d left his bow and arrows in the car, but he’d demonstrated that he was a respectable hand-to-hand fighter, too.

“For something that smells like that I’ll lick it off the floor if I have to,” said Robin. “I’ve been living off my own cooking for six months.”

Nat wanted to note that nowhere in there had he promised what she’d asked, but when Sharon unlocked the handcuffs the only thing Robin fell upon was the pizza. Sir Stephen handed him a slice, gooey with mozzarella, and Robin bit half of it off in one go, his eyes rolling back in his head as he tasted it.

“Oh, wow,” he said. “This must have cost a fortune. I’ve changed my mind. Go ahead and hang me. It’ll be worth it to have tasted this.”

“We’re not going to have you hanged,” said Nat.

“Then what are you going to do with me?” he asked. “You know, if you’d just told me to begin with, you might not have had to stab me. Just a thought.”

“You weren’t listening to us long enough to let us,” Nat told him. That did offer a bit of an interesting dilemma, though. How were they going to break it to him? With Sir Stephen she’d just told him outright that he didn’t exist, but that hadn’t gone well. What would be better? “Can I ask you another question – what year is it?”

Robin frowned. “What year?” he asked. “Is it supposed to have a name?”

“No, a number, counted from the birth of Christ” said Nat. “Like, King Richard was crowned in 1189.”

He shrugged. “I’m not a chronicler. I don’t keep track.”

Annoyed as she was, Nat couldn’t fault him for historical inaccuracy. Throughout the middle ages it was unlikely that most people had any idea what year it was, or would have any need to.

“Let me try something,” said Sharon. She’d brought up a news article on her phone, from a local Nottinghamshire website, and enlarged the photograph with it to show Robin. The picture showed Mrs. Francis addressing a crowd at the church of St. George, with her sister and children around her. The accompanying text described her quest for attention for the case.

“Do you know this woman,” asked Sharon, but Robin’s eyes had already widened in recognition. He swallowed his mouthful of pizza and snatched the phone, then blinked in surprise when he touched the screen and the image vanished.

“Get it back,” he said, pushing the phone back at Sharon.

“Who is she?” asked Sharon. She pulled the image up again.

“That’s Marian!” Robin said. “Why is she wearing trousers?”

“She’s looking for you,” said Sharon. “But this woman isn’t Maid Marian, and you’re not Robin Hood. Just let us explain,” she added, when Robin opened his mouth again to protest.

“Allow me,” said Sir Stephen. He’d been munching eagerly on pizza too, but now he put down the box and pulled up a chair to sit facing Robin. “I am perhaps the best to tell you. My name is Sir Stephen of Rogsey. Do you know it?”

Robin shook his head.

“I would have died a hundred years before your time,” Sir Stephen said, “but this is not your time, nor mine. Many centuries have passed since then. We are in search of the Holy Grail, which we are told has the power to create things that ought not to exist, so long as somebody believes in them.

It created myself, according to Natalie, who says I am but a legend brought to life.”

“It created me, too,” said Allen quietly. “She made me up, because her real father abandoned her.”

“It seems to have created you, as well,” Sir Stephen went on, “but not in quite the same way. May I show him the fragments, Natalie?”

Nat handed the over, and Sir Stephen explained to Robin Hood what the fragments were for and what seemed to have become of the missing Mr. Francis. Robin seemed first cynical, but he kept glancing at the picture still showing on Sharon’s phone, and his expression became thoughtful, then worried.

“Wait,” he said, holding up a hand. “Just a second. You’re saying that there’s another version of me who’s married to Marian or whatever her name is, has two kids and my own house and my own land and no price on my head and I… I just wished all that away to go live in the woods like a stray dog?” He shook his head, uncomprehending. “Why would anybody do that?”

“You were upset about some stuff,” said Nat. “You’d had some bad experiences in the army, and you’d gone partially deaf.”

“If an angel appeared to me and told me I could have all that in exchange for my ears I would cut them off!” Robin protested. “I don’t… I’ve never owned anything in my life! I’d certainly never be allowed to marry Marian. I mean, my parents were servants in her father’s castle. The reason I had to leave was because her jerk uncle thought she liked me too much and it would ruin her prospects. There’s no way… is that allowed in your world, or… your time, or whatever this is?”

“Nobles marrying commoners? Happens all the time,” Nat said. “Even kings do it.”

“I don’t… this is ridiculous,” Robin rubbed his forehead. “None of this makes sense. I want to see her. If I hear it from Marian,” he started to get up, “then I can… ow!” Robin sat down again as his side twinged.

“Sorry,” Allen said again.

“Maybe tomorrow,” Sam suggested. “You’ve got some torn muscles there and if you’ve been living out in the woods for any length of time, some hot water and a good night’s sleep will do you wonders.”

Robin looked up again, almost as eagerly as he had when Sharon and Sir Stephen brought the pizza in. “You’ve got hot water?”

Robin Hood took a very long shower, singing to himself for most of it and stamping his feet in the hot water, while Sir Stephen polished off the pizza and the rest of them got take-out curry to share – Sir Stephen ate a bit of that, too. Robin missed the meal, but finally they heard the water shut off and he emerged a few minutes later, dripping wet and wrapped in a fluffy pink bathrobe. Without a word to any of them he flopped face-first onto the other bed, and was apparently asleep by the time he hit the mattress.

As they sorted the pizza boxes and take-out containers into garbage and recycling, Allen took a deep breath and said, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” said Nat.

“I know you can look after yourself,” said Allen, “and I know you don’t think I’m your father. I just didn’t want to feel like I’d failed you again.”

Nat sighed. After being angry with his inaction earlier, she was now angry about his initiative. He must feel like he couldn’t do anything right, and even as annoyed as she was, it was hard not to also feel some sympathy for him. “You know what they say about the road to hell, right?” she asked. “I know what you were trying to do, but please don’t do it again. I don’t want to see you kill anybody.” Nat was quite sure now that Allen wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he did.

“I don’t want to kill anybody either,” he said, “but I had to do something.”

“No, you didn’t,” Nat said firmly. “Next time, think about whether you could kill somebody, and ask yourself if it’s worth having that on your conscience. Think how you’d feel if Robin had died… what would you say to Mrs. Francis about it?”

Nat’s own conscience was a stunted thing – she’d been raised not to have one, and trying to develop it now was a painful, drawn-out process that happened in fits and starts. Sometimes it would lie dormant for days at a time, or duck out of sight to let her do something like shoot Nazis on Flotta, but then it would bubble up again with a vengeance to make her feel guilty about things that weren’t even entirely her fault, like the death of the HYDRA survivor under the Red Death’s spell. It became stronger the longer she abstained from doing anything awful, and the reverse was also true: the more of a terrible thing she did, the less bad she felt about it. Now that Allen had stabbed somebody once, it would be easier to do next time.

Allen nodded slowly. “Yeah,” he said. “I’m glad I didn’t hurt him too badly, I… I don’t know.” He hung his head. “I have no idea what I’m doing here anymore.”

“I don’t think any of us do,” said Nat. “Next time, don’t just do the first thing that pops into your head because you feel like you have to do something. Have a specific goal in mind to accomplish before you act, and be sure it’s important. If you can’t come up with that, then the best thing to do is stay out of the way. It’s not cowardice,” she added. “It’s knowing your limits.”

“That’s good advice,” he said. “I’ll keep that in mind.” Although the way he said it, Nat could tell he still felt like dead weight.

He was supposed to be her father, she thought, and yet here she was, in a sense mothering him. “Get some sleep,” she suggested. “It’s gonna be another long day tomorrow.”

“Yeah. Thanks, Natalie,” he said.

“Natasha,” she corrected.

It was meant to be an olive branch, a gift of sorts. She hadn’t yet told any of the others her real name – or at least the name she called herself in her head, which was about as close as any name of hers could come. All it did, however, was remind Allen that she wasn’t who he thought she was. How could she be his daughter when he didn’t even know her name?

“Natasha,” he said sadly. “Sleep well.”

#fanfic #natasha romanov #black widow #steve rogers #captain america #sam wilson #falcon #sharon carter #agent 13 #clint barton #hawkeye

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createlogicuniverse · 6 years

Text

Murder on the Tres Spades Cruise - Part 5

Part 4 - https://createlogicuniverse.tumblr.com/post/167778804668/murder-on-the-tres-spades-cruise-part-4

Eisuke POV

Lily and I return to the penthouse lounge so I can continue my work. We had a relaxing breakfast together because I wanted to do something nice for her. She hadn’t been well and then all this stress started, I’ve done what I can to keep her distracted and her mind occupied but I know its short lived. I don’t trust that Inspector, I sense he has something up his sleeve and he will take Lily away from me. I have put all the bidders on the case to see what they can dig up but it’s taking too long to find anything. The murderer has to be on the ship and I refuse to make port until we find out who it is.

The penthouse doors suddenly open and Mamoru, Mr Kenzaki and Inspector Tanaka are all standing there. The inspector steps forward and says “Miss Lily Yoshida, you are under arrest for the murder of Mr Hiroshi Kato” he pulls her hand out of mine and hand cuffs her.

He starts to drag her away when I suddenly snap. “NO! Lily!” I go to run after her with my arm out when Soryu grabs me from behind.

“You can’t, the only way to save her is to prove she is innocent, you can’t do that while you’re in custody as well.” He says in my ear.

I shoot him a venomous look “fine”. I watch as she pulls against the inspector to get to me but then gives up. I can feel my heart break in half as I see the look of panic in her beautiful eyes.

“Eisuke, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know he was going to do that.” Mamoru apologises. “He just said he wanted to come up and see Lily.”

“That’s why I brought them up here Sir.” Mr Kenzaki bows deeply to me. “I apologise as well for what happened”

“It’s fine” I say shortly. “Now we have to get her back. Soryu, I want a proper update of what's going on." The irritation is dripping in my voice. Everyone sits down on the lounges as Soryu talks.

"We looked into your background with Hiroshi and found out that after the fallout with the Italian Mafia he moved onto the French Mafia to get back at you and Mr Bucci. The French have always had problems with the Italians and they look for any excuse to go after them. It's possible that they don't like you and Mr Bucci working together. Inui has just informed me that they found a few suspicious people on board who don’t match their backgrounds. I have instructed him to send them over to Mr Bucci’s office to see if they know who they are. If it’s confirmed that they are from the French Mafia, we may have our killers. Hopefully, we will know something soon.”

“This is to be everyone’s number 1 priority. Anything Soryu needs, you are to do. Mamoru, you will keep an eye on Lily and make sure she is ok at all times. Make sure that inspector isn’t hard on her. You are all to keep me informed on what is going on.” I give out my commands and head up to my office to try and get some work done.

It’s hard to concentrate on work when I know Lily is in danger but I get through an hour before Soryu comes in. “We just heard from Mr Bucci, apparently the names they are using are fake but his men have identified them for us. Andre Martin, Blaize Leblanc, Karoly Travers and Marc Beaumont. Andre is the one in charge of the Italian office and the others work under him. My men are currently going through all the surveillance feed to find out where they were that night and where they currently are. I suspect they would be keeping a low profile. What do you want us to do when we find them?”

“Nothing yet, just keep an eye on them until we can prove they did this.” It angers me that I can’t have them taken care of now but it won’t help Lily if I do. They will have hell to pay when I do get my hands on them. Soryu nods and sensing the anger coming from me, leaves my office.

As the day wears on, more information comes to light. Soryu and his men have been able to track down where the French Mafia have been hiding. They had booked out 2 guest rooms on 1 of the bottom floors of the ship. Baba, being a master of disguise has been keeping an eye on them with the help of Inui and Samejima, documenting their every move. On the night of the murder, they also found out that Andre and Hiroshi met up an hour before he spoke with Lily. The audio didn't come through on the camera and they don't speak for very long. According to Mamoru, the inspector ruled Andre out of the investigation because the conversation appears calm between the 2 men and Lily was their main suspect. Blaize and Karoly are also seen in the crowd at the IVC while Lily is with me, then appear to follow her as she heads towards to deck. Due to the camera's position in the ballroom, we can't see if they follow her down the hallway or not. Marc and Andre are also seen patrolling around the area during the confrontation, likely to step in if something goes wrong.

We are on the right track but we still need to prove it. I feel my agitation grow more and more by the hour. I won’t rest until she is back in my arms and I know she wouldn’t want me to do that but I find it hard to keep my emotions in check when it comes to her.

I call a meeting with all the bidders to explain how we will proceed next. Everyone arrives in lounge and takes a seat, they all have the same glum look on their face. Lily may be my fiancé but they are all protective of her and care about her and even though they tease her, they would do anything to help her if she was in trouble. I know that if anything ever happened to me, the bidders would look after her.

I go through the plan with everyone on how we can trick the French Mafia into admitting that they were behind the murder and not Lily. If they all do their parts then we can pull this off.

Once everyone agrees and understands what needs to be done, I call the end of the meeting and tell Mamoru to go and check on Lily.

Part 6 - https://createlogicuniverse.tumblr.com/post/167898271993/murder-on-the-tres-spades-cruise-part-6

#kbtbb #kissed by the baddest bidder #eisuke ichinomiya #kbtbb eisuke #Murder on the Tres Spades Cruise

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pjxmin · 7 years

Text

PROPOSALS

▹ pairing: Jeongguk x reader ▹ words: 18,102 I’m so sorry ▹ genre: smut, fluff, light angst, friends to lovers

You and Jeongguk propose at restaurants to get free food, but somewhere along the way you start to fall for him.

You never thought Jeongguk would actually take you up on the whole fake proposals thing. When you had suggested the idea to him, he’d just laughed and said “yeah”, then continued playing Fallout 4. You hadn’t actually meant it; the idea was one of those you vaguely imagine it happening, but not really, which is why when he brought it up weeks later suggesting you try it out, you thought he was kidding.

He wasn’t, and this is how you end up in one of the city's nicer restaurants on a fake date with your best friend.

The whole idea spawned from watching far too many cheesy romance movies over the years. What you were most curious about was whether proposing at a restaurant really does get free food, so that’s what you two decided to put to the test. You wanted to know if it was just a dumb movie gimmick that works because of movie logic, or if you truly could get out of paying just by whipping out a ring. So the two of you dressed up in your finest clothing and made it a date.

"When are you gonna do it?" You whisper, unable to calm your nerves.

Jeongguk smirks and shrugs, eyes skimming over the menu. "I dunno, whenever the mood is right."

You hit his arm and he laughs. "Gotta keep you on your toes, Y/N. That's the beauty of a proposal - you never know when it's gonna happen. Besides, it'll be more believable if your reaction is at least slightly genuine. Your acting is shit."

"Is not."

He raises his eyebrows, as if saying "really?", and you shut up. Jeongguk is right. Like many other people, you're fine at lying on the spot, if need be, but acting is something else. Acting is prolonged lying, and you're not good at that.

A lady approaches the two of you and politely introduces herself as your waitress for the night. You order first, then Jeongguk. Your menus are whisked away and you're left waiting for your orders and Jeongguk's surprise proposal. As the minutes tick on, you grow more nervous. It feels wrong to pull such a prank, but it's so exhilarating at the same time. Nobody is going to get hurt or anything, so it’s not that wrong, right?

Jeongguk rests a hand over your leg, which is bouncing underneath the tablecloth. "Hey, we don't have to do this if you don't want to."

"I want to," you say. "I just. I don't know. What if they kick us out or something?"

He raises his eyebrows. "For proposing?"

"No, of course not. Maybe they'll be able to tell it's not real."

"Y/N, I'm hurt. Do you really have so little faith in my acting abilities? Don't worry, everything will be fine. They won't suspect a thing." He glances over your shoulder. "Food's here. You don't have to do much, just sit there and look pretty. I'll do the rest. They'll buy it, trust me."

The food is set down before you and you try to shove your worries out of your head to enjoy the meal. It'd be a waste of money if you let your nerves get in the way and ruin your appetite. Besides, you're doing the easy part. You literally just have to sit there, act touched, and say one line. If anything, the two of you will have had a fun night out and will know that movies are full of shit.

Jeongguk finishes his food faster, as always, but he slows down once he starts wolfing away at your shared side dish, allowing you to catch up. Your stomach feels ready to explode at the seams when you're done, and you're about to flag down a waiter to ask for more water when Jeongguk lifts a hand to your cheek, which confuses you at first, but then he mouths "go time" and you understand. This is it. The proposal.

He keeps his voice low, as though what he's saying is between you and him, private, and everyone else is just lucky to be there to witness such a beautiful display of affection.

In reality, he's telling you the lyrics to Breaking Free from High School Musical, which makes trying to be serious even harder. He's fucking with you, but you won't break. You crack a smile, and to anyone else it would seem like you're moved by his words, or maybe grinning at an inside joke.

Then he pulls out the ring. Several people from neighbouring tables glance over and you see a hand point in a way that you think is supposed to be subtle, but really isn't. You don't care. If you didn't want people to watch, then you wouldn't be here.

The ring is yours, a gift from your parents for graduation, and it was the only thing either of you had that looked close enough to an engagement ring. The gold band is studded with moonstone and at first Jeongguk suggested he buy some cheap plastic ring instead, but you insisted on using a real one because plastic would be way too obvious. May as well hold up a flag saying "none of this is real!".

Jeongguk slides out of his chair and onto one knee. The widening of your eyes is genuine, because while you were expecting this, it doesn't make it any less strange or surprising. You half-expected him to reveal the ring and propose sitting down. But no, Jeongguk has to pull out all the stops and take everything to the next level. Everything he does is done to utmost perfection.

His voice grows louder as he says, "Y/N, will you make me the happiest man alive and do me the honour of being my wife?"

More people are looking, so you blink quickly and fan your face, as though trying to keep tears at bay. The lucky onlookers, they came for a meal and now they get free entertainment. Even a couple waiters are watching as they serve other patrons.

"Of course, Jeongguk. Of course I'll marry you."

Jeongguk's face splits into the widest grin and he slips the ring on your finger. Then he lifts your hand, making sure the ring is on display, and exclaims, "She said yes!"

In response you get a few smiles and some congratulations, but mostly startled glances and annoyed looks for disturbing the silence of the restaurant. A waiter comes by and says dessert and champagne is on them.

Jeongguk squeezes your hand once before letting go and whispers "success". You lean your chin on your hand, trying to look the picture of a totally in love newly-engaged woman.

Dessert comes quickly, served by the chef himself, who also congratulates you. You can't conceal the surprise on your face and cut into the chocolate fondant in a daze. In just a few minutes, it feels like you've been swept into some other new life, and you almost believe yourself that something huge has changed, until you remember that once you leave this restaurant, everything will return back to normal. Nothing changed. Not really, anyway. But you allow yourself to believe it, at least for a little bit. You let yourself get swept away by it all, and you wonder if maybe Jeongguk is doing the same thing. His smile seems wider, laugh brighter, and each glance he gives you seems to communicate a feeling that makes something inside you stir. You're not quite sure what it is and it makes you keep looking at him, trying to understand it. But you end up distracted by the way his eyes narrow when he grins, the noises of content he makes with each bite of the dessert, and the way he keeps glancing at you when he thinks you're not paying attention.

Once the two of you are home in your shared apartment, it's almost eleven and you're thankful you don't have to work the next day, because you still have too much energy after all that dessert and won't be able to fall asleep quickly. You get into your pyjamas and crawl into bed, listening to Jeongguk brush his teeth. When he's done, he comes into your room and collapses beside you.

"Can we watch the season finale of How To Get Away With Murder?" He asks.

"Only if you get the remote." The remote is on the other side of the room, resting on the coffee table underneath the TV. The apartment doesn't have a living room, since you chose to have two bedrooms instead and a spacious (as spacious as can be with the small area) open plan dining room/kitchen. So instead, the TV went into your bedroom. Neither of you watches it much, and when you do, it's together. Jeongguk games on it every now and then, but he stays out of the room when you need your privacy or alone time.

Jeongguk lets the episode play for twenty minutes undisturbed before speaking. "Today was fun."

You nod, rubbing your eyes. The sleepiness is beginning to get to you. "I didn't expect it to be such a success."

Jeongguk chews his lip before shifting in the bed to look at you. "Let's do it again."

"You want to?"

"Do you?"

You shrug. The possibility of getting free food is immediately incentive, but more importantly, it was fun. Though you do still feel a bit guilty, it's all harmless. "Sure, let's do it."

You agree to space out the proposals, since even though you're not completely broke, shacking out money on meals at restaurants on a regular basis will add up. The two of you will pay for your own orders, to be fair. Jeongguk is almost buzzing with excitement and he doesn't stop making comments or suggestions for another ten minutes, after which you tell him to shut up because you're missing the show. So he buzzes silently beside you. After a while, he's completely still, and when you glance over at him, you discover he's fallen asleep. You pull the blankets up closer to his chin and switch off the TV, plunging the room into darkness.

You try your best not to move around too much, so you carefully sink down on your pillows and get comfortable.

The sound of Jeongguk's soft breathing fills the room, and soon enough, you're asleep too.

"You two are doing what?" Your friend Choa says on Wednesday morning at work. One of your coworkers casts you a salty look, so you gesture for Choa to follow you to the bathroom. Might as well take a bathroom break and stretch your legs. It's been a long day and you can't wait to go home.

You explain the whole thing to her from inside a toilet stall and she doesn't interrupt.

"You mind if Hyejeong and I steal your idea? I want free food too," Choa says when you're finished.

"Go for it," you say. You flush and come out, washing your hands while Choa touches up her makeup.

"It might be good practice."

"You thinking about proposing?"

She shrugs. "We're not in a rush to do anything, but yeah, the cards are on the table. We've talked about it and we're both up for it, just not right now. Everyone says stuff gets complicated once you're married, which would be nice to avoid for as long as possible. We've got enough to deal with here at work, I'd like my personal life to remain as stress-free as possible. Plus I don't want to deal with all those damn documents."

"I'd better be a bridesmaid at your wedding," you say.

She smiles. "I mean, we'll have to see if there's any room for you there."

You gasp and nudge her. She laughs and pulls you into a hug, reassuring you that of course you'll be invited, whenever it is that they finally decide to seal the deal.

Because it's a Wednesday, you and Jeongguk are set to meet at McDonalds for an unhealthy dinner after work. Wednesdays tend to be the most grueling days of the week and neither of you ever has the energy to cook, so it became a ritual to eat at a nearby McDonalds to avoid the hassle. You invite Choa, promising you'll buy her a milkshake if she comes. That's all it takes to convince her.

Jeongguk is already waiting when the two of you get there, surrounded by an absurd amount of food for the three of you. You get Choa her milkshake and sit down beside Jeongguk. You fill eachother in on how the day went, slowly working through your disgustingly greasy dinner.

"So you just… Did it? Got down on one knee and proposed?" Choa asks when you mention to Jeongguk that you told her about your weekend shenanigans.

"Yeah, it wasn't that hard. There wasn't a script or anything. I just asked her to marry me and that was all there was to it." Jeongguk's expression is amused. "You wanna try?"

Her eyes bug out. "Proposing? Here? I wouldn't know the first thing to say."

"You don't have to say anything. Nobody is listening, they only really start listening if you get down on one knee, and at that point you can just say 'hey, be my wife' and boom, you're done," you say.

She glances around, taking in the people around you. Her expression is nervous, but curious more than anything.

"Okay…" She says. "Just let me tell Hyejeong first in case somebody starts filming and posts it on YouTube."

You laugh, but her point is valid. Proposals (especially failed ones) do tend to spread like wildfire online, so it's better to be safe than sorry. You've always admired Choa's relationship with Hyejeong. They're that laid-back couple who are constantly bantering with one another, but at the end of the day love eachother more than anything in the world and share every aspect of their lives, without limiting or restricting eachother. You hope that whoever you end up with is that way with you too.

"Okay, all good," Choa says, slipping her phone back into her bag.

"What did you tell her?" You ask.

"That I'm proposing to you and ditching her sorry ass."

Jeongguk chokes on the Sprite he's drinking.

"I'm ready whenever you are," you say. "There's no need to make it special, nobody is watching."

"Not yet they aren't," she says with a sly grin, and you wish Jeongguk hadn't suggested anything when she stands up on her chair, immediately attracting attention to herself. Thankfully there aren't many people in the joint to begin with.

Choa speaks loudly, delivering the most disgusting, yet somewhat sweet speech to you. You have to admire her bravery, because if it were you, you probably wouldn’t have the guts to just stand up and propose, especially without preparation. When she’s done and you say, you’ll marry her, she sits back down with a satisfied smile, flashing you her underwear in the process.

"Fuck, what is it with you two and needing to make a spectacle out of everything?" You whisper loud enough for them to hear. "Also you're about as romantic as a wet sock, you know."

She pokes her tongue out at you. "Good thing you're not marrying me then." She takes chicken nugget and pops it in her mouth. "That really was easy. I mean, I'm sure real proposals aren't that simple, but still. That was rad. Hyejeong and I are definitely stealing your idea. You better patent this shit before it becomes a thing."

You smile at Jeongguk. Choa's excitement has you looking forward to the next proposal.

"By the way, not that anyone asked or anything, but if the two of you end up dating after this - or get married - I think you'd be the cutest couple."

This time it's your turn to choke on your drink. Jeongguk pats your back until you stop coughing and you glare at Choa, who simply says, "What? Come on, you guys are adorable. I mean, yeah, a dude and a girl can just be friends, but you know. If it happens, I think it'd be awesome. Cheesy, but awesome."

The space between you and Jeongguk gets tense and you're not quite sure how to respond. Blessedly, Choa's phone starts ringing, and you recognize the ringtone as the one she'd set for Hyejeong ages ago as a joke and never ended up changing. They don't talk too long, but Choa laughs saying she'll 'explain everything at home' (the proposal, you assume).

"Okay, my friends, it's been great hanging out but I gotta go," she says, shouldering her bag. "Y/N, call me up sometime and we'll start planning that wedding, yeah?"

"Will do, future wife," you say. "See you tomorrow."

She waves and disappears. You take a bite out of your burger so you can think about how to change the subject from what Choa left it with. Sure, the idea of dating Jeongguk isn’t absolutely horrendous and he would be a great boyfriend, but that doesn’t mean you’ll admit it to him.

"Wouldn't it be funny if we started dating because of this?" Jeongguk muses, trying to make light of the awkward situation. Trying and failing.

You snort. "I wouldn't date your ass if you were the last person alive."

He laughs and throws a fry your way. "Right back at you."

Work gets hectic and you end up trapped underneath an avalanche of shit to do, so the proposals hit the pause button until things calm down again. You end up working from home most nights, grumbling to Jeongguk that you should be getting paid for all these extra hours. Seeing Choa come into work just as exhausted as you makes you feel a little bit better knowing you're not alone in your suffering. Your lunch breaks don't even really count as breaks anymore since you sit at your computer typing away while trying to eat at the same time. Jeongguk gives you back rubs on nights when you feel like crying and throwing your laptop out a window. He completely takes over cooking dinner, despite the fact that he also has his own stuff to do. You swear you're going to repay him somehow later.

"Who are you texting?" You ask him one night. Jeongguk has been glued to his phone for the last hour, which is uncharacteristic of him. It's rare that he's ever on his phone, which makes contacting him an impossible task at times.

"A girl named Miso on Tinder and a guy named Yugyeom on Grindr," he says. He shows you a picture on his phone - of Yugyeom, presumably - and you can't help but widen your eyes a little bit. He's attractive, but a little too naked. Jeongguk has informed you that Grindr is a lot more to the point than Tinder is. He then switches to Tinder and holds up his phone again, flicking through Miso's photos. She's absolutely stunning in that edgy kind of way that you don't think you could ever pull off. They’re both stunning. A weird feeling stirs in your chest.

"It's nothing serious or anything," he says, settling back against the pillows on your bed. You stretch out your legs, resting them on top of his as he continues texting.

You're not stupid, you know that Jeongguk meets up with people every now and then to have a bit of fun. After an incident where he and his partner were particularly... Loud, he didn't usually invite them over anymore. He could barely look you in the eye for a week afterwards because of how embarrassed he was. It's just that when it doesn't happen in your apartment, it's easy to forget what he gets up to.

"I mean, there wouldn't be anything wrong if it were serious." You can see Jeongguk chew on his lip from your peripheral view, halting his typing for a moment.

"Yeah, but I'd like it to happen organically, you know?" He says. "Romance is going to die with this generation and its dating apps. I probably watch too much anime or whatever, but I want to meet someone in real life and feel that spark. Not meet on a dating app, bone a few times, and hope maybe it leads to more."

"First, there is no such thing as 'too much anime'. Second," you reach out to give his leg a reassuring squeeze, "You'll feel that spark eventually. Just don't limit yourself. Maybe that person you bone will end up being the love of your life. You never know. Choa and Hyejeong started off with a casual relationship and look at them now."

He sighs and stands up. "True. Okay, well Miso wants to meet up so wish me luck, I guess. Who knows, maybe she’ll be the one." He wiggles his eyebrows and enters his room to change clothes and grab his wallet. He drops by your room to say goodbye and you can't help yourself from admiring how nice he looks. For another girl. The weird feeling in your chest wakes up again. "Don't wait up."

"Have fun," you say, watching him disappear into the front hall. The door shuts softly, leaving you alone with that weird feeling. What on earth is going on? Where is this coming from? You wait for a little while for the feeling to come back, but it doesn’t. Must have imagined it. You shake your head and grab a bottle of wine from the kitchen and continue slaving on in the quiet apartment.

Four more proposals go by with varying levels of success. Jeongguk keeps it interesting, doing something different each time so you're always anticipating what he's going to do next. It's not hard to feign surprise considering he keeps his plans secret and you never know when he's actually going to do it or what he's going to do.

Somehow, he doesn't get nervous or embarrassed by any of it, and you admire his bravery, because you wouldn't be able to propose with such flourish and grandeur the way he does.

You mention this to him one day and he says, "You know what? I think you should try it."

"Try what?"

"Proposing."

You open your mouth to protest, but then close it. You have no valid reason not to. He's proposed, it's only fair you do it too. It's the twenty first century, you can propose if you want to and nobody can say shit about it. Choa could do it, so why can't you?

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yeah, okay. I'll do it. If you do anything embarrassing though, I'll kill you."

So you set a date. You book a reservation at a humble restaurant and spend the next week scripting and rescripting proposals between your lunch breaks at work, during work (sneakily so nobody catches you not actually doing your job), and at home whenever you can. Even though it's not real, the pressure is on to make it perfect, especially with Jeongguk being a perfectionist who is naturally amazing at everything he does. You suddenly feel appreciative of everyone who has ever proposed and put thought into their proposals. This isn't as easy as it seems.

You don't let Jeongguk see the proposal you've written out and you promptly stop practicing as soon as he approaches you with a teasing grin. One day while he's vacuuming and you're sitting at the table writing, he tries to peek over your shoulder, but you promptly swat him away and retreat to your room. Choa also sneaks peeks at what you're writing during work, but her eyes are more than welcome and she tells you which parts you can tweak or get rid of completely.

You know that on the night you probably won't use half of the things you've written down, but it helps having a general direction, otherwise you'll end up yammering and land yourself in the Guinness World Records for Lamest Proposal Ever. Hopefully you manage to salvage at least a few lines from your script.

The night of, you put on a dress that goes past knee length to make sure you don't flash anyone your underwear when you get down on your knee. Jeongguk looks dapper in smart casual clothing and you swear to god he would look drop dead gorgeous even in a plastic bag. You can’t help but let your thoughts wander to Miso (with whom things didn’t work out) and feel smug that you get to see him like this and she doesn’t.

Jeongguk touches the small of your back as you step inside the restaurant, and even though there's a thin layer of fabric separating your skin, the gesture still makes you almost trip over.

The two of you are swiftly seated, your order is taken, and food arrives so fast it almost feels too fast. You lean forward slightly to blow on your soup and a strand of hair slides off your shoulder, which Jeongguk brushes away. This makes you pause, confused by what these little touches mean and why you’re enjoying them. You assume it’s part of the act, but don’t question it in case he stops.

Halfway through dessert, you decide it's time. Music floats through the room and hushed conversations skim across tables. The lack of noise makes you nervous, but you keep in mind that Jeongguk has done the same thing with success in all sorts of circumstances. If he can be brave enough for this, so can you.

You've stalled long enough, you have to get this proposal done with before you lose your nerve and the two of you have left the restaurant. Despite your earlier pep talks, your knees still shake as you sink down to the ground in front of Jeongguk, which immediately turns several curious heads. It's almost amusing how everyone knows what's about to happen even before you've pulled out a ring. Several people look slightly confused though. It's not everyday you see a woman propose to a man. Even if this is all fake, you hope it teaches some people a lesson today that shit is changing and women can initiate action if they damn well please.

"Jeon Jeongguk," you begin, taking his hand in yours. His face is twisted with amusement, which only fills you with more confidence. "We met when we were in second grade, and although you haven't really done much maturing since then, I wouldn't be able to imagine a life without your royal dorkiness in it. You're my best friend, the first person I go to for anything and I know I can always trust you because you're just that kind of person. I would trust you with my entire life if it ever came to that. You're the kindest, bravest, wildest person I've ever met and somehow I got lucky enough to call you my best friend. When you're not around, something always feels like it's missing. I'm not whole without you. You complete me in so many ways and I don't want to live a life without you in it. I want to go browsing homes with you, I want to adopt a pet with you and name it something stupid, I want to fight with you over who gets the blanket at night, I want to do everything with you, because even the most mundane things would seem exciting. I know this is really sudden, but it can't wait any longer. Jeongguk, will you marry me?"

In the end, you don't get free food. Not even free drinks. You swear you're never going to go back to that place again.

"That was a pretty kickass proposal, though," Jeongguk says as the two of you leave the restaurant, trying to lift your mood. "We'll celebrate our fake engagement on our own. Who needs free food or free drinks? We're adults, if we wanna drink, we'll drink."

You cross your arms, annoyed by your failure tonight. "You're right," you say. "Screw them, we don’t need their approval. They probably have crappy drinks anyway. We’ll have an even better night on our own and drink all we want.”

You both drop by a supermarket and purchase a bunch of junk food (because who eats healthy food when they get drunk?) then head over to the nearest liquor store to get alcohol where you proudly announce to the cashier that "We just got engaged and I proposed because fuck the rules."

The front door of your flat hasn’t even closed when you open the bottle of vodka and take two large gulps that burn down your throat.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, let's take this slow," Jeongguk says, taking all the bags and alcohol from you. He pulls out a couple of shot glasses from the kitchen cabinets and slides a bag of Doritos and a packet of Oreos your way. "Pace yourself or else you're gonna be on the floor in half an hour." You make a face at him, but oblige.

Several shots later, you are indeed lying on the kitchen floor as predicted and Jeongguk is propped against the counters, shot glass dangling between his fingers. The ceiling is spinning, but when you close your eyes, the spinning intensifies. Why was this a good idea again? For the billionth time you're reminded that you're not an eighteen year old anymore who doesn't understand that getting shitfaced just isn't cool. At this age, it's just really freaking lame and the reward doesn't outweigh the consequences anymore.

"You looked really pretty tonight, by the way," Jeongguk says, and it's so unexpected that you tilt your head up to look at him, as though that'll somehow confirm that you didn't just imagine what he said. At this point nothing feels real anymore.

"Thanks," you say. Your cheeks have definitely gone red and you're sure it's not from the alcohol. "You didn't look too bad yourself."

Jeongguk moves to lie down beside you. You turn on your side to face him and he does the same. If not for the alcohol, you wouldn't have the nerve for this. Any of this. You're not sure what this new intimacy is, if it's just residual habits from the fake engagements, or if it's supposed to mean more. You're not even sure he realizes what he's doing. Or if he realizes you like it. Something about it feels more intimate than before. You used to be able to lie down beside him and look at him like this without that weird feeling in your chest, but now it feels different. Now your heart races and the sight of him makes you lose your breath.

"Would you actually want to marry me?" You blurt out. Sober, you would've bit back the words immediately. No, they wouldn't have even come out of your mouth.

He doesn't even think about it. "Yeah. I mean, if we weren't just friends and we, you know, saw eachother that way and got to that point, yeah. Of course. What about you?"

Just friends.

"If you got rid of those fucking Iron Man duvet covers, then maybe." Your brain can’t help replaying what he said and you don’t understand why it makes you ache.

"That's mean."

"That's life, sweetheart."

He raises his eyebrows. "'Sweetheart'? We're using pet names now, huh? I didn't get the memo."

You start sitting up but he pulls you back down, and in your inebriated state, you fall on top of him. His body is warm and you can feel his toned muscles underneath his shirt. Whatever he was about to say slips away and you see him glance at your lips, which makes you glance at his, and then you scramble off him like your ass is on fire. This time he lets you go, almost too fast, and you somehow manage to stumble into your room, throwing a haste "good night" over your shoulder before shutting the door.

You crawl under the sheets and lie on your side, staring at the window curtains, replaying that brief moment over and over in your head. What on earth was that? And did he feel that too? Before this whole fake proposals thing you wouldn't have thought twice about something like this. What is happening to you? This is your best friend. Your best friend who used to tell you scary stories because he thought it would be funny to frighten you, the best friend you went through awkward puberty with, and the best friend who you thought would invite you to his wedding, and who you'd invite to your wedding. Hell, you've even joked that you might make him your maid of honour. But after all of these proposals, you find yourself imagining him beside you at your wedding not as a maid of honour, but maybe as the person you're planning on spending the rest of you life with.

You groan and pull a pillow over your head, squeezing your eyes shut. This is all just some silly effect of the alcohol and the proposals. Pretending to get engaged is making you think about weddings more than you ever have, so of course you’re imagining things. Who wouldn’t? Nothing has changed. All these thoughts are just because of this arrangement and they’ll go away soon enough.

Eventually your thoughts stop racing and a dreamless sleep overcomes you.

When you wake up, it's almost noon and sunlight is spilling through the crack in your curtains. There's a glass of water and Panadol on your bedside table, as well as a note saying saying 'A client called last minute, will be back as soon as possible. Hope these help you feel less like dying. :(" You truly do not deserve somebody as good as Jeongguk.

Sending a quick thank you text to him, you swallow down the Panadol and shuffle into the bathroom to wash off the stench of alcohol. Your head is aching and you just want to lie in bed for the next two weeks.

Once you’re clean, you shuffle around the house, looking for your phone, and when you find it there are five missed calls, twelve texts, and four messages on Snapchat waiting. You frown. What in the hell? There are three missed calls from Taehyung, one from Namjoon, and one from Jimin. Most the texts are from Taehyung, since he has a tendency to fire off a billiong in one go rather than condense his thoughts into one message.

You open them and your confusion only grows.

2:03 WHAT IS THIS WHOLE ENGAGEMENT THING ON YOUR SNAP STORY

2:03 YOU AND JEONGGUK ARE ENGAGED????

2:06 ANSWER ME WOMAN ISTG

2:10 ??????????????????

2:12 if you're not gonna answer ur phone tell guk to

2:15 good lord it's impossible to get a hold of either of you

2:17 PICK UP FFS

2:25 okay call me in the morning if you can PLEASE

You squeeze your eyes shut and a curse slips from between your lips. Somehow you never learn to stay off social media when you're inebriated. You replay your snap story and cringe even more. Sometime last night you had proclaimed your (fake) engagement with Jeongguk and even held up his hand to show off the (fake) ring, announcing that the wedding would be held soon and "everyone is invited". You promptly delete the entire story and call Taehyung. He starts yelling the moment you pick up.

"So your phone does work! Explain everything!"

"Tae, I was drunk off my ass last night, nothing happened. There's no engagement."

"But the ring?"

"It's all a joke, Tae,” you say, sitting down at the kitchen table. “I think it’ll make more sense if I tell you in person.”

Tae falls silent before finally saying, "Okay, I'm coming over with the gang. Everyone's confused as hell so you may as well explain to all of us together."

"Alright. Can you tell them they can stop freaking out? I promise nothing is going on, we just had a lot to drink."

"Yeah, sure. I'll text you when we're on the way."

After the phone call with Taehyung, you lie back down for another fifteen minutes or so, waiting for your embarrassment and hangover to subside. Next time you're anywhere near alcohol, you're going to leave your phone somewhere where you won't be able to touch it. You run through the events of last night, piecing together the hazy memories and trying to place them in chronological order. You remember eating and talking with Jeongguk, playing a few rounds of Uno together, drinking, drinking more, things getting hazier and hazier. When Jeongguk went to the bathroom, you ended up taking two shots, which he figured out he'd done when you suddenly got much tipsier. And then you remember that awkward moment where things got a bit too friendly. You don't even want to attempt to decipher the meaning of that moment, if there even is any meaning to it.

Eventually you force yourself to get up and text Jeongguk asking him how he feels. He probably won't be able to see his phone for a while since he's working, which is fine. You head out to get some pizza since you'll be having company and have zero desire to cook anything. Your phone chimes as you're carrying four large boxes of pizza home, so you check it once you're indoors again and you swear your heart flips when you see Jeongguk's name.

18:14 Hey, sorry I couldn't get back to you earlier. Omw home, but the bus is stuck in traffic.

Just as you're about to reply, two texts come in from Taehyung saying they're "like five minutes away". You've just set down the pizza boxes and managed to clean up a little when the intercom starts chiming, indicating that the boys have arrived. You let them in and they immediately grab the pizza and sit down on every available surface.

"Where's your fiancé?" Jimin asks teasingly, settling comfortably on Seokjin's lap.

"He's not my fiancé," you grumble. "He's on the way home, just stuck in a bit of traffic. He should be here soon, though."

"Okay, so talk," Taehyung says mid-chew. "What the heck is going on? Are you engaged or not?”

"No, we’re not really engaged.” Just like with Choa, you explain the whole arrangement and what you can remember from last night. Yoongi and Taehyung are frowning, unsure what to make of the situation while the other looks mildly curious and a lot more understanding than before they knew what was happening.

Seokjin is the first to speak while the others digest. "Well, I think it's cute. We should try it out, Jimin."

"We're already married, you dork," Jimin grumbles, even though a smile tugs at the corners of his lips. Seokjin gives him a quick kiss on the cheek and for the first time, you feel jealous of what they have.

“How the heck does this even happen? Who came up with this?” Namjoon says.

“Well, I suggested it,” you say. “There’s a bunch of movies where people do this stuff, so I thought it would be cool to test it out. I just didn’t think Jeongguk would agree to it. He suggested we keep doing it.”

"You know that in all those types of movies the friends always end up falling for eachother, right?" Taehyung says.

"Don't be so paranoid, I'm sure they know what they're doing." Yoongi is the one who comes to your defense, but he's facing you with an unreadable expression when he says this. "It's all harmless."

"Yeah, absolutely," you say quickly, averting your gaze from Yoongi's. "We're just having a bit of fun. We're not dating or anything, it all stops when we get home."

Taehyung and Yoongi exchange a look. "Alright," Taehyung says uncertainly. "Maybe delete snapchat or something next time the two of you get wasted. You nearly gave us a heart attack."

"Correction: nearly gave you a heart attack," Namjoon says. "You're the one who started freaking out."

"Called every one of us at two in the freaking morning," Hoseok grumbles. "You do know that normal human beings are sleeping at that time, right?"

Before Taehyung can defend himself, keys rattle in the front door and Jeongguk steps inside. A look of surprise crosses his face when he registers that you have company, but he doesn't seem bothered by it. In your embarrassment after last night, you forgot to give him a warning that there would be other people around.

"Hey, what's going on?" He says, sitting down in the chair next to yours. There’s zero awkwardness, so it seems like he doesn’t even remember the moment you shared last night. This makes you feel a little bit better. Maybe you were overreacting and that moment just seemed worse because of your drunken state.

"I caught them up with the whole proposals thing," you say. "I may or may not have snapped last night announcing that we were engaged. Forgot to mention the whole thing was fake."

"I vaguely remember something about that," he says, making a face. He turns to the guys and looks at them apologetically. "Well, I guess that made telling everyone what was going on easier. Not that there's much to tell."

You nod, smiling tightly. Yoongi and Taehyung still look suspicious, but thankfully they drop the subject. Since you and Jeongguk are tired, they don't stay around too long. Jimin and Seokjin leave an hour before everyone else, as expected of them. The others stick around a bit longer, cracking open the remaining booze from last night while you talk (you don't drink since the thought of putting more alcohol in your system makes you a bit nauseous). At some point Jeongguk's hand comes to rest on your thigh and Taehyung's eyes shoot straight to you, raising his eyebrows questioningly. You ignore him.

When they finally leave, Jeongguk lets out a deep sigh of relief. "Finally."

"Sorry, I would have asked them all to come another day, but you know Tae. He was freaking out so I figured it would be best to invite them all over to explain what's going on in one go."

"I didn't think he'd make such a big deal out of it," he says. His phone's message tone goes off and he slips it out of his pocket, reading the message with a sigh.

“What’s wrong?”

“Yugyeom wants to meet up.”

"Oh.” You knew things with Miso didn't work out, but you didn't know he was still seeing Yugyeom, much less other people. A part of you thought that maybe with these proposals he stopped doing all that. Which is absolutely stupid and you don’t know why you’d assume such a thing.

"I didn't know you two were still talking," you say in a way you hope that sounds unaffected.

"Well, I'm not sure if you'd consider it talking," he quips and that annoying feeling throbs in your chest.

“Will you go?”

He purses his lips, pondering over his options. “Question is am I so desperate for a fuck to go see him. Man, I’m beat. He couldn’t have texted me tomorrow?”

In the end, it turns out he is desperate enough. He rinses his teeth with Listerine and changes into more casual clothing while grumbling away.

You remain seated in the kitchen, trying to understand what you’re feeling and why you ache so much when you think about what he’s going to do. He throws a goodbye over his shoulder and you listen to the door click shut behind him as he goes to make love to someone else.

Jeongguk continues to see Yugyeom and you watch him leave, taking another piece of you every time. The sight of his departing back slowly chips away at you, so you try to ignore it. You try to ignore the sound of the shutting door, his footsteps as he arrives past midnight, the buzzing of his phone as he receives a booty call from Yugyeom. You tell yourself none of this bothers you, especially as the proposals continue along. You smile and laugh the way you always would, but whenever he gets down on the ground to propose, all you can think about is him getting down on his knees for Yugyeom for an entirely different reason. You try to compartmentalize your thoughts, locking them away, but they continue to resurface. So you continue to ignore them, pretending they’re not there, until one day you can’t avoid them anymore and they blow up in your own face.

“Will you marry me?”

Jeongguk's eyes are so hopeful, waiting for your response, but you don't say anything. Not immediately like you always do. All you can think about is him on top of someone else, the breathy sighs that would have escaped his lips. You wonder if maybe he talked to Yugyeom about you. If maybe during every proposal he was thinking about Yugyeom, waiting for the next time they could see eachother. Here you were thinking maybe he was feeling something for you too, but you were an idiot to ever consider that idea as a possibility.

"No," you say, unable to stop the word from slipping out of your lips. You intended to say yes the way you always do, but the word morphed into something else and now it hangs between the two of you two, suspended in midair, waiting for one of you to acknowledge it. Jeongguk is surprised for a moment before his expression changes into one of confusion.

"Y/N, what are you doing?" He whispers, but you can't handle his gaze on you, the way he's so clueless about how you're feeling. Taehyung and Yoongi were right, this isn't harmless and you have no idea what you're doing.

"I can't do this, I’m sorry," you say, getting up and grabbing your bag with jerky motions. You rush away from the table, pushing out of the restaurant door as fast as you can. You collide into someone and mumble an apology, hurrying down the street. You're not sure where you're going, you just know you need to put as much distance between you and Jeongguk as you can.

You only make it a block when Jeongguk catches up to you, grabbing you by the arm to stop you from getting any further.

"Hey, what's going on?" He pulls you aside so you're out of the way of people walking past.

"I'm just not feeling it today," you say. "Not feeling well."

"Do you want to go home?" He asks, frowning, concern written all over his face.

You don't want to be anywhere near him right now, but you don't say that. "I think I just need some air."

"Sure, we can-"

"Alone," you interject. You wish you didn't notice the hurt that flickers across his face for a second. "Please."

He takes a step back from you, nodding. "Okay. Okay, I'll see you later then?"

"Yeah." You step away too. "I'll see you at home."

You let your feet take you in the opposite direction of him without a clear destination in mind. You just need some space. Every time you're around Jeongguk you forget yourself and can't think straight. How did things get so screwed up without you even realizing it? Where were all these conflicting feelings coming from? You aren't sure how long they've been residing in the back of your mind, slowly crawling out from their confines, just waiting for you to realize they're there when it's too late.

You end up sitting in a park after walking around aimlessly, and you watch families feed ducks, elderly couples stroll past holding hands, friends laugh about god knows what. Choa once told you that the best way to get over somebody is to get under someone else (she was probably joking, but fuck it), so you decide that if Jeongguk can fuck around, so can you. You can't be bothered going through the awkwardness of Tinder, so you go through your phone contacts, praying that you saved one of your old fuckboy friend's phone numbers. Fuckboys may be the bane of human existence, but they could always be relied on for a quick fix.

"Bingo." You dial a number you almost completely forgot about, your stomach twisting in knots. This could be a huge mistake in a series of huge mistakes, and you almost hang up after the fifth ring. Then he picks up.

You're at Minho's flat in half an hour. He opens the door so fast that it makes you wonder if he was standing there waiting for you.

"Hey, stranger. Been a while since I've seen you," he says. He's not wearing a shirt, of course, even despite the chill in the air. He looks as good as ever and you know he knows it. If you had that kind of body you'd probably be confident as hell about it too.

"Shut up," you say, pulling him towards you. He doesn't protest. It’s not like you were calling to talk and he was perfectly aware of that. That was never something you and Minho did, which is why you’re here now.

His mouth finds yours and his tongue instantly asks for entrance, which you grant. You used to be able to kiss him for hours, intoxicated by his very presence. Cocky as he may be, he was good at what he did, and from what you can tell he hasn't lost his skill. He probably has five other girls on the side and you're about to become the sixth, just for today.

The two of you make your way through the flat to Minho's bedroom without letting go of eachother, and you almost trip over the coffee table in his living room, so he reaches underneath you and hoists you up, carrying you the rest of the way. He drops you on the bed, leaving wet kisses along your neck as he unbuttons your shirt. The confidence you felt coming here is rapidly disappearing, but since you're here now, you may as well take advantage of the situation and satisfy your needs. Minho is good in bed, but he's also good at keeping feelings out of it. That's something you appreciate about him in a strange way. He doesn't get attached, but he's amazing at treating you like a queen in the moment. Or like the dirtiest slut in the world, depending on what you both felt like in the moment. Sleeping with him was always fun, but after a while you decided you wanted more. Like Jeongguk, sleeping around just wasn't enough, so you cut things off with him. He didn't take it personally, obviously, and wished you the best when you told him what you wanted. And now here you are, back with him again.

"This is just a one time thing," you tell him as he works at your jeans, pulling them off your legs. You thank god that you decided to put on black underwear today.

"Yeah, of course." He unbuttons his jeans and slips out of them, then returns his attention to you.

Minho makes you come twice, and by the end you need several minutes to recompose yourself and remember your own name. Your entire body is covered in sweat and you're sure that you're going to be aching the next day.

"I forgot how good you were," you say (more like pant) when you can finally manage to sit up.

He laughs, already in his clothes and on his phone, probably texting another girl. "You're missing out. We can start doing this again if you want."

You pick up your bra and underwear off the floor, putting them back on. "Like I said, this was a one time thing. Sorry."

"Trouble in paradise?" He asks, chucking the phone on his bed.

"Why would you say that?"

He tilts his head and gives you a look that say 'you really think I'm that stupid?'. "Last thing you said to me a year ago was that you wanted a real relationship, and now here you are again, just for a one time thing. Come on, I know you a bit better than that. Also, don’t take this the wrong way, but you’ve never been this... Desperate.”

You make a face, irritated that you were so obvious. "Do you remember Jeongguk?"

"Your roommate?"

"Yeah." You stand and run your fingers through your hair in an attempt to tame the crazy sex hair you must have. "I just… Thought things had changed between us and maybe we were becoming more than just friends, but… I guess I was wrong. I don't know. It's complicated."

"And this is why I don't do relationships. Feelings always fuck things up."

"You can say that again," you mumble, buttoning your shirt up again. The sweat on your skin is becoming sticky and disgusting. You're tempted to stay and ask if you can use Minho's bathroom to shower, but you don't want to overstay your welcome. And if you're being honest with yourself, you're feeling a little guilty. Coming here seemed like an okay idea at first, but now you're not so sure. Did you prove whatever you wanted to prove by coming here? How exactly does this get back at Jeongguk?

"Have you talked to him about it?"

"Hell no, that would mean admitting shit and potentially ruining our friendship. Out of question." The idea of telling Jeongguk how you feel is so preposterous you could laugh. "Anyway, I didn't come here for advice, but thanks for trying."

He leaves you to finish dressing up and your phone rings when you're midway through getting your jeans on. You grab your phone and answer without even looking at the caller ID, and you wish you did when Jeongguk's voice sounds in your ear.

"I was just calling to check if you were okay," he says and a quick glance at the clock on Minho's bedside table says it's been over two hours. The guy certainly took his time working you up.

"Yeah, everything's fine, I'm just-" You hoist your jeans up and lose your balance, falling onto your ass and losing your grip on the phone in the process. You curse, certain that on top of aching tomorrow, you're going to have a bruise too. Could this day get any better?

As if to prove it could, Minho steps inside with wide eyes, and when he speaks you know your cover is blown. Jeongguk will know you aren’t alone getting the space you asked for earlier. There’s no way your phone microphone wouldn’t pick up on Minho’s insanely deep voice. "Jesus, what happened in here? You okay?"

"Yeah, I just fell over," you say, shooing him away as you pick up your phone from the floor. "You still there?"

"Yeah, what just happened?" Jeongguk sounds just as worried, but there's a slight edge to his voice that you can't quite place.

"I fell. I'm fine though."

"Are you… Are you with somebody?"

"I'm, uh, at Minho's," you say awkwardly. Jeongguk knew there was only one reason you used to hang out with Minho, and that was not because you enjoyed his company or the things he had to say. There’s a tiny, petty part of you that wants him to know you're here.

"Oh," he says, his voice completely devoid of any emotion, and you're a bit disappointed because you were hoping for a bigger reaction. "Okay. Um. I'm making dinner right now, should I cook for you too? Or are you planning on staying there longer?"

"No, we're done here. I'll be home soon."

"Okay. See you soon then."

"Yeah, bye."

You're left feeling embarrassed by the end of the conversation and the idea of going home is not one you’re excited about. But you can’t hide from Jeongguk forever. When you leave, Minho says goodbye and 'see you in another year', which you flip him the finger for.

When you make it to the apartment, you steel yourself at the door and take a deep breath before sliding your keys in and stepping inside. Jeongguk looks over at you from where he's standing in the kitchen, working on something that smells absolutely amazing. There’s a smile on his face, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

"Hey, you feeling any better?"

"Yeah, loads," you say, walking into the kitchen to see what he's cooking. "You are the best roommate in the world. How did I get so lucky with you?"

This makes him smile for real. "It's almost ready. You hungry?"

"Starving," you say, opening the cabinets above you to take out bowls. It takes another couple minutes until dinner is ready and you settle down at the kitchen table for once rather than plunking down on your bed and watching TV while eating.

"So, how's Minho?" Jeongguk isn't looking at you as he says this.

"I didn't really ask," you say, taking a bite. "We didn't exactly do much talking."

"Right." He doesn't have anything else to add after that and you don't know what else to say so the rest of the meal passes by in silence. You wish you chose to sit on the bed instead so the TV would fill in the awkwardness. Both of you exchange a handful of words before going to bed, but you can't sleep with the way things are with Jeongguk. He didn't do anything to deserve any of this, everything that happened today was because of things going on in your head. You overreacted to something that wasn't there. He's probably in bed wondering what on earth he did, and that isn't sitting right with you. So you get up and pad over to his room, knocking softly before entering.

"You asleep?"

Jeongguk lifts his head. "No. Everything okay?"

You crawl into bed beside him and he holds up the blanket so you can scoot in beside him. "I'm sorry for being such a bitch today."

"You weren't a bitch," he says. In the dark it's hard to make out his figure properly, but you can feel his breath on your face and the warmth of his body. "You just… Did I do something to upset you?"

The confusion and the hurt in his voice makes your heart ache. "No, you didn't do anything. It's just been a weird day. It's all me, but I promise I'm okay. I'm just really sorry."

"Nothing a hug can't fix." The blanket shifts as he lifts his arm and you shuffle closer, wrapping an arm around him. He settles his around you too, holding you the way he's held you for so many years.

"Love you," he says and it breaks your heart knowing it comes from a place of friendship and nothing more.

"Love you too," you say, coming as close to a confession as you ever will.

The proposals start up again and you settle into the familiar rhythm once more. Some of them are short and to the point so you can both get home faster and get some sleep, others are drawn out and you enjoy the evening, sometimes arriving home just before midnight.

Through them all, you still can't help but wonder if he really is seeing other people, so you finally summon the courage to ask.

"Are you still seeing Yugyeom?"

He doesn't seem phased by your question, thank goodness. "No, that ended a while ago. Just wasn't feeling it."

"Oh. That's too bad," you say. You need more information, so you keep going, careful with the way you word your questions so he doesn't suspect anything. "Maybe you'll find the spark with someone else?"

He smiles wistfully. "Maybe. I've given up on casual shit. It's just not worth it. If I need relief, then hands exist for a reason. But that's not what I'm looking for."

You hit his arm, widening your eyes. "Holy shit, we're in public, you sicko."

"You asked!"

"Not about where you're finding your relief," you whisper. "Jesus."

You can't help but feel a bit pleased with his responses though. He's by no means your boyfriend or anything and he can absolutely see other people if he wants to, but you can't help the jealousy.

When he proposes, he doesn't draw much attention to himself and he keeps the speech concise, speaking quietly. It makes you wonder whether the words really are for you and you alone, if maybe this isn't to get some sort of reaction from other people.

"I promise to always protect you and cherish you, and if I ever do anything to hurt you or upset you, then I promise to always apologize and own up to my wrongs. I will also always be here whenever you need me and I will support you through everything in life. I promise that I will always keep an open mind and never judge. All your secrets are safe with me. The only thing I ask for in return is your love." He opens a small box with the ring in it. "Will you marry me?"

You nod, unable to say anything through the lump in your throat. He slips the ring on your finger, but then he's doing something that has never been a part of the act. He leans across the table, his fingers touching your chin light as a feather, and then his lips are brushing against yours. Fireworks and alarm bells go off simultaneously in your head as you melt under his feather light touch.

The kiss ends just as soon as it began and you, shocked and confused, search his expression for some sort of explanation. But he doesn't let anything on, his face remaining that of a blissful, newly engaged man.

The feeling of his lips on yours lingers all through the evening and you barely even hear what he says while he speaks, because all you can think about is the kiss. It was so quick and gentle, his lips just barely touching yours, but the memory burns itself into your memory and will be all you can think about for days.

Later that night when you're at home washing dishes from earlier in the day you're still wondering what on earth that was at the restaurant, but Jeongguk still hasn't mentioned it, so you're the one who brings it up.

"About earlier…" Your heart pounds so hard in your chest that you can barely hear yourself speak. "That kiss-"

Before you can finish, he says, "Oh yeah, sorry, it just came to me in the moment. I thought it felt right, you know?"

Sorry. Sorry. His apology is enough of an answer.

"What did you think?" He asks, his back to you. He hands you a soapy dish and you hand it back. He washes it again and you stow it away. You're grateful he isn't looking at you because you wouldn’t be able to hide your thoughts anymore.

"Just caught me off guard is all," you mumble. "I liked it though. I mean, it sold the whole thing way better. Who gets engaged and doesn't kiss afterward?"

"Should we keep doing it then?"

"Yeah." You're not sure if you'll regret your answer later, but after getting a taste of his lips, you're starving for it to happen again. "Yeah, let’s keep doing it.”

Choa tells you kissing Jeongguk is a Very Bad Idea. Without clear boundaries and rules, things can get complicated and you're putting your heart, and your relationship, at risk. But rather than do the smart thing and listen to her, you ignore her advice, proceeding down the road of self-destruction.

After the kiss, you're excited for every time you go out, just waiting for the next one. They never last longer than a few seconds, but you completely lose yourself in the moment anyway. You get some sort of high from kissing him that you've never felt before and it makes you wonder what it might be like if the kisses lasted longer than a few seconds.

You don't have to wonder for long.

The two of you are on your way home from a proposal when you pass by a group of girls leaving a club, giggling and swaying side to side, clearly already drunk despite how early in the night it is. You come to a stop and gesture towards the club entrance. "You wanna dance?"

"Sure, why not? Got nothing better to do."

You take his hand and pull him inside, the music blaring loudly even from downstairs. It's not the best club in town, but the music is good, the drinks aren't ridiculously expensive, and it usually has a decent crowd. You haven't been clubbing in a while so you quickly start buzzing with excitement once you're pushing past gyrating bodies, your eardrums filled with a vaguely familiar remixed song.

It takes a little while to completely let go and start dancing with total abandon, but once you do, you go hard. Jeongguk gets you a drink, then you get the next round, and the more you drink, the closer you get. Personal space pretty much doesn't exist in clubs, but there still is a certain level of separation between people, unless you invite them to cross that line and invade your space completely. So when Jeongguk's hands start wandering, you don't stop him.

Lights and noise surrounds you, but you're only aware of him and his eyes on you. You're hypnotized by the way he moves his body, lost in the beat, mouthing the lyrics to every song he recognizes, completely in a world of his own.

You end up losing track of time and you're not sure if it's midnight or three in the morning, but it doesn't matter because you don't want this night to end. Every now and then a song from your childhood is played and you both yell along to the words of the song with the rest of the people in the club.

When you need a break, you head over to the bar and sip on some blue concoction of theirs that tastes amazing, but also gets you tipsy fast. Five drinks later and you end up grinding against Jeongguk. He's so close, rubbing up against you, hands low on your hips, and your mind starts wandering places it shouldn't. Your ass brushes against his jeans and you secretly hope that this is having some sort of effect on him. But that also backfires, because the more you grind on him, the more you want to pull him into a dark corner and feel his lips on yours. Really feel them on yours. Those proposal kisses and wonderful, but they never last long enough. You want to know what his tongue feels like against yours, you want to hear him pant and moan, you want to feel him tear your clothes off and touch you in places that will make you beg for more.

You're hyperaware of the fabric of his jeans and your skirt separating you where you're grinding against him. What would it feel like to eliminate that distance? Every time he grinds against you, you become breathless, and you decide that you need to get away from him for a second to clear your head. You may be a little bit tipsy, but it's him, not the alcohol, making you dizzy. These desires have been buried deep inside you all this time, and this night has brought them to the surface. You turn around to tell him you're going to get some water when somebody bumps against you from behind, shoving you roughly into Jeongguk.

He catches you, but in the process his left hand ends up pressed dangerously low against your back and you know it isn't an accident that he doesn’t move it because of how intensely he's staring at your lips. Your gaze flicks to his lips and the desire to kiss them is so strong you think you might actually do it. For once, you’re sure he’s feeling this too. He wants you just as much as you want him, and the thought makes your heart race. You just need to lean forward the tiniest bit, that’s all it will take.

"Y/N," he breathes, your name sounding like a warning that neither of you wants to heed.

"We shouldn't," you say, just barely managing to get the words out of your mouth. Oh, god, but you should.

"Yeah. Or maybe we could."

You find yourself nodding and it takes everything in you not to just shove him against the wall and kiss him right there. But you want more, and you can't do that here. If you start now, you’re not sure you’ll be able to stop.

"Friends do it all the time," you say.

"It'll be harmless."

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay. Let's have some fun."

Twenty minutes later you barely manage to get the door open before Jeongguk is pushing you back against it, his mouth finding yours instantly. The scent of his cologne and sweat is intoxicating and his lips taste sweet from the drinks you had earlier. You drop the keys somewhere and run your fingers through his hair, pulling him closer, but not close enough, still not close enough.

"Take your shirt off," you murmur against his lips, fumbling with the belt of his jeans. You don't want to take it slow tonight. You need him now, no fucking around, no slow build up.

He pulls his shirt over his head, tossing it aside before latching onto your neck, sucking a hickey into your skin then running his tongue across it to soothe the ache. Heat pools in your core and your hands roam across the planes of his perfectly toned body. You knew Jeongguk was fit, but never this fit. Clothes always seem like they're about to burst on him, and now you can see why. You've gotten glimpses every now and then in the summer when it just gets too hot for layers of clothing, but this is something else entirely. Getting to really admire him without having to look away makes your head spin. He's too perfect, and he's yours. At least just for tonight.

"Where do you want to do this?" Jeongguk says as he deftly unzips your dress. Even though it's cold in the apartment, you can barely feel it because Jeongguk is so warm and he's all over you.

You step out of the dress, letting it drop to your feet. "Anywhere," you say, and he picks you up, carrying you out of the hallway. "Anywhere, I don't care, I just need you right now."

He sets you down on the kitchen table and the thrill of possibly having sex somewhere that isn't in the bedroom gets you feeling even more heady. You'd fuck him on the cold floor at this point, anything to feel him fill you up.

Jeongguk kisses you again and everything is messy and loud but it's so good and then he roams his fingers over your underwear and it's even better. He presses against your clothed core but it's not enough.

"Touch me," you breathe into his mouth, and he does. His fingers slip under the hem and roam across your folds. You can hear and feel how wet you are, which makes you even more aroused. Feeling brazen, you take Jeongguk's hand and guide it to your clit, showing you the exact pace and pressure you like it. You can feel his hard-on against your leg, straining against his jeans, and you're desperate to touch it and take him in your mouth.

"Take off your bra," he says, and you oblige. He lets out a shaky exhale, admiring you, touching you, exploring you. "God, you're perfect."

He swipes his tongue along your nipple and you draw in a sharp breath, squeezing your eyes shut. But this makes him stop and pull away ever so slightly. "Look at me."

You prop yourself up on your elbows and open your eyes, watching him tease your sensitive buds with his tongue, then his fingers, then his tongue again. He squeezes your breasts, taking them into his mouth all the while circling his middle finger over your clit lightly, pushing you to the edge then pulling you back again. Then, just when you think you can't take anymore, he dips into your underwear once more and passes one digit over your folds, sinking further inside you, dipping in and out at a maddeningly slow pace. His palm brushes against your clit and you let out a restrained moan.

"You're so fucking wet," Jeongguk says, adding another finger. He gives you a second to adjust before resuming the same pace. You pull him down towards you, kissing him open-mouthed, your tongues colliding, and he adds his final finger that has you whimpering his name over and over. He pumps his fingers, watching you unravel underneath him, and you feel the edge hurtling closer and closer so you pull his hand away, breathing heavily.

"Wait a second," you say, panting. Sweat has begun to bead across your skin and you're sure you look like a complete wreck. "I'm gonna come before you even have the chance to fuck me."

His pupils are wide with lust and he nods, clearly having to force himself to regain at least a shred of self-control.

You push him back and ease yourself off the table, dropping to your knees in front of him. He curses as you unzips his jeans and tug them down. Your heart pounds at being so close to him and you know you're crossing a limit that can't be undone, but you don't care. It’s too late for you anyway.

You palm him through his underwear, keeping your eyes locked on his the entire time. His breaths come uneven, losing himself slowly but surely to your touch. You inch down the fabric and bite your lip at the sight of his length. You spit on your hand, then wrap it around his cock and begin to move it up and down. He lets out a groan and you pick up the pace, jerking him faster and fondling his balls with your other hand. Jeongguk has to lean back against the table, as though his legs might give out, which only boosts your confidence. You swipe your tongue along his length, licking the tip infuriatingly, swirling around it, then add your other hand and pump him with both.

"Holy shit, you're so good at that," he says, so as a thank you, you finally give him what he really wants and lower your mouth over his head. You bob back and forth, giving your jaw time to get used to his width. When it does, you go further, choking and pulling back to regain your breath, then go back down again. Jeongguk threads his fingers through your hair, drawing you back, his grip firm but gentle.

"Can you take it?" He asks, his voice strained. He's coming undone just like you, and the sight is so beautiful.

"I'll try." You relax your jaw and let him guide you as far as you can go, feeling his head press against the back of your throat. Tears well up in your eyes and the feeling of him inside your mouth makes you even more wet. You pull back with a gasp and he hauls you up, tasting himself on your mouth.

"I want you inside of me," you say, shakily stripping out of your underwear so you're completely naked in front of him.

"Say that again," he says, brushing his lips across your jawline, tugging at your earlobe with his teeth. "Please, say that again."

You're practically shaking with need, you'd do anything at this point to get what you want. "Jeon Jeongguk, I want you to fuck me as hard as you can. I want to feel you inside of me right now."

"Jesus, okay." He takes your hand and you follow him into his room. He fumbles in his bedside table drawer and fishes out a condom. You help open the wrapper, even though your hands are quivering, and place it over his cock. He lies beneath you and you straddle his waist, lining him up with your entry.

"You're sure, right?" Jeongguk says before you can do anything, and the question stirs that feeling inside you that’s been driving you mad for months. You peck his lips softly and nod, then sink yourself down onto him. The both of you let out a moan and you pause, adjusting to how big he is. Once you're ready, you begin to move, slowly at first, enjoying the feeling of his length sliding in and out of you. Your fingers move down to your clit and he watches everything you do, holding onto your waist as you ride him. Wet sounds fill the room as well as the sound of your skin slapping against eachother, growing louder and faster as you pick up the pace.

"Let me fuck you," he says, so you lean forward, propping your arms up on either side of him, and he begins to pound into you from below fast, but not fast enough to hurt. Your breasts bounce with each of his thrusts and he reaches up with one hand to fondle them, brushing his fingers across your hard nipples. At one point he pulls back too far and slips out, so you reach down and pump him, settling down on his hips again, his dick against your soaking folds. You glide yourself over him, grinding and swirling your hips around his cock. Eventually his patience for your teasing runs out and he grabs you, flipping you over so he's on top now. He spreads your legs apart and slips back inside you, thrusting at a steady rhythm. This new angle hits you in all the right spots and you have to reel yourself in to keep from falling over the edge. He runs his hands over your thighs, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their path, and you admire all his muscles pulled taut as he plows into you.

Jeongguk's closes his eyes and bites his lip, gripping onto your legs tightly. You know he's close, so you say, "Come for me. I know you want to. Come for me, Jeongguk."

He shakes his head and pulls out. "You first."

Jeongguk moves down on the bed so he's between your legs, pressing the gentlest kisses inside your thighs, spreading you apart. He leans down and presses his tongue flat against your slit, tasting you at last.

"You taste amazing," he says, giving you butterflies in your stomach. He keeps watching you, gauging your reactions every time he dips his tongue inside you. He moves up slightly and begins to lick and play with your clit, which sends a different kind of pleasure through your body. He mimics the same technique you showed him earlier, but with his tongue, and the moans spill out of your mouth uncontrolled and loud and begging for relief. He dips two fingers inside you, startling you and sending more heat to your core. You can't anymore and you feel your orgasm building, just out of reach.

"Come, Y/N. Come all over my fingers," he says and finally you do. Waves of pleasure slam into you and your entire body trembles, your walls squeezing around the fingers he still has inside you. He leaves a kiss just underneath your jaw, allowing you to catch your breath.

"You are incredible," you say with a laugh, kissing him one more time. When your body has stopped shaking, you move down on the bed, remove the condom, and sink your mouth down onto his cock, bobbing up and down, one hand twisting and pulling at the same time. You take him as deep as you can, choking and coughing, sucking and licking. You focus special attention on the tip and look up at him with big, lustful eyes, encouraging him to come. You swipe your tongue over his slit and he lets himself spill into your mouth, gripping the bedsheets as he groans at his release. You swallow every last bit and he stares at you with complete awe, which for some preposterous reason makes you shy, even after you just bared your entire body to him.

You can feel reality set back in again and you're not sure what to do now. Do you stay and cuddle? Is that appropriate? Or do you go back to your room and pretend nothing happened? But Jeongguk steps in and saves you, delaying reality just a tad longer.

"Shower?" He says.

You nod. Once in the bathroom, Jeongguk climbs into the shower with you, taking the loofah and body wash as you adjust the temperature. You turn to him as the water streams down your face and he runs the loofah across your body so gently it gives you tingles. You're afraid to make any sudden movements or to say anything in case it shatters the moment and he leaves. So you let him lather shampoo into your hair, massage your scalp, and you return the favour (he has to squat a little bit so you can reach the top of his head). When it's all over, you feel like your heart might explode from whatever it's feeling and you know whatever this is has to stop right now. You’ve denied for so long that you can handle this, that you’re in control, but the truth is you’re not. It’s time for you to end this here.

"I'm going to blowdry my hair," you say, pretending you're too busy adjusting the towel over your chest to look at him. You rarely blowdry your hair because you want to avoid heat damage as much as possible, and you're sure Jeongguk knows it. The monstrosity only fills your apartment with its incessant noise when you're in a rush or… You're in a rush. Now is not one of those times.

"Okay," he finally says. He steps out of the bathroom, shutting the door quietly behind him. When he's out, you let out a deep breath, shaking your head at yourself. The worst part of this is that you want it to happen again. But it can't. And you're beginning to think maybe the proposals really do need to stop. You're getting too invested in him in ways that are more than friendly. So you tell yourself that after a few more proposals, you'll end it. Things will go back to the way they were and you'll get over these honeynut feelios.

To keep up your lie, you really do blowdry your hair. When you come out of the bathroom Jeongguk's bedroom door is closed.

The realization of what you’d done with Jeongguk hits you even harder in the morning. You get up and almost leave your room, but freeze, holding the door handle. What if he's out there? What will you say to him? You need somebody else's input on this so you call Taehyung. He picks up on the first ring.

"Hey, what's up?"

You open up your wardrobe and sort through what to wear, taking your time. You keep your voice quiet, in case Jeongguk is out there. It's immature and silly, but fuck it. "You busy?"

"Nah, you wanna hang?"

"Yeah, I need to talk to you about something."

A pause.

"Is this something Jeongguk?"

Of course he would know. Taehyung is very perceptive, it's nearly impossible to lie to him. Sure, he has a carefree and airy attitude, but underneath that is so much more depth. Sometimes Tae is the first person you go to with a problem, sometimes he's the last because there's no bullshitting with him. At the end of the day he'll know if something is up.

"Maybe…"

"That means yes. Okay, you want me to come over?"

"I need to get out of the house, can we meet at Starbucks?"

In about twenty minutes, you're sitting with Taehyung by the window in Starbucks, munching on one of their sandwiches. The change of scenery is nice and helps clear your head, just a little bit. Jeongguk left just seconds after your phone call with Taehyung, so you were able to get ready and get out of the house without having to deal with what happened the night before. Honestly, you just want to pretend it never happened and avoid any conversations that will make you want to crawl in a hole and die.

Taehyung raises his eyebrows. "So? What's going on?"

You set the sandwich down and ponder over how to word what happened, but you don't even have to because something about your expression makes Taehyung figure it out instantly.

"Ohmygod, you didn't," Taehyung says. He leans forward across the table and lowers his voice. "You totally slept with him, didn't you?" He takes your lack of response as confirmation. "Ohmygod. Holy shit. How was it?"

"Tae."

He holds his hands up innocently. "Sorry, sorry. Were you two drunk again? I told something always happens when you drink-"

"We weren't drunk,” you say, frowning. “And what the hell is that supposed to mean? You think he'd only sleep with me if he were wasted?"

"Don't put words in my mouth, you know that's not what I'm saying. What does this mean then? Are you two... Dating? Or friends with benefits…?"

You sigh. "I don't know. I don't want this to get messy."

"Y/N," Tae begins, "This got messy the instant you started that fake proposal BS. And now letting him put his penis inside you made it even messier."

"You're not helping."

"Maybe not, but it's what you need to hear. Your real friends should tell you shit the way it is," Taehyung says. He hesitates before asking his next question. "Y/N… What do you really feel for Jeongguk?"

You look down at your sandwich, chewing on the inside of your lip. What do you really feel? Things have definitely changed. But can they change back? Can things be the same as they were before, even after everything that's happened? You want to believe they can, but you're not sure. Things crossed an irreversible line last night, both in terms of your relationship and your feelings, and it’s time to start undoing the damage you created.

The problem is that you can't help imagining what it might be like if Jeongguk doesn't want this to end. If he wants more, just like you do. You can't help but imagine the other changes that could happen. Maybe you'd both start sleeping in one bedroom all the time, maybe showering together would be a common occurrence, and maybe those fleeting touches wouldn't be so accidental anymore and would become a normal part of the day.

"I don't know," you finally say. "I don't know what I feel. And not knowing what he feels isn't helping either."

"But you won't talk to him about it in case he doesn't feel anything back. In a non-friendly way."

You nod. "What if… What if you asked?"

Taehyung purses his lips, considering his answer. "I could. But, Y/N, if I do then you know he's going to know you're the one really asking. And then you'll really have to face up to this. I can do it, but you won't really be getting anything out of it."

You groan, rubbing your eyes in frustration. It's like being in middle school all over again, trying to figure out if the guy you have a crush on has a crush on you without being obvious (even though you were obvious as hell), except this is the adult world and it feels ten times more infuriating.

"Okay, thanks, Tae. Don't worry about it. I'll talk to him eventually. If I need to." He raises his eyebrows. "I might get over this, you never know."

Taehyung doesn't look like he believes you in the slightest, but blessedly he doesn't voice his thoughts. "And the proposals?"

"Just a few more. Then we're done. I promise."

Nothing happens for a few weeks and life returns to the way it used to be. You try to be more social, interacting with your friends more than ever before. They keep you grounded, and little by little you feel like you're returning to your old self again. The craziness in your head subsides and you can begin to look at Jeongguk in a way that doesn't make you ache or yearn for more. The yearning is still there, but you're coming to accept that things are never going to be more. You can't expect anything from him that he doesn't want. It's not fair for you or him.

Neither of you mention what happened, nor do you mention the proposals for a little while because you're too busy with other things. There's just no time to squeeze in an evening at a restaurant, and even if there were, neither of you really has the energy to. It's just as nice, if not better, to lounge on the bed wearing your ratty clothing eating take out.

Jeongguk is the first one to bring the proposals up again.

"Can we stop the proposals?" He says one day while you're shopping for groceries.

Your heart drops even though you knew this was coming; you were just hoping they would peter out as things got busy. Then you could believe that things ended because of other causes, not because either of you wanted to stop them.

"Yeah, sure." You try to seem nonchalant about it.

"I just…" Jeongguk's eyes search yours, looking for something. He doesn't find whatever he's searching for, because his poker face is back up and you can't read him anymore. "I'm running out of ideas. It's kind of getting redundant, don't you think?"

His words hurt and you feel your smile waver. You hope he doesn't notice. "Yeah, I totally get it. It had to end eventually, right? I was thinking about talking to you about it anyway."

Despite the fact that he's the one who suggested ending this, he looks… Sad.

"Do you… Do you maybe want to do it one more time? Go somewhere swanky and spoil ourselves, just to end it with a bang," you suggest.

Jeongguk's face brightens a little bit. "Yeah. I'd like that."

The final proposal is in two weeks. Jeongguk makes a reservation at some disgustingly overpriced restaurant that has a crazy amount of five star reviews online. After a very long conversation with them, he somehow manages to get a reservation that doesn't require two months of waiting.

While Jeongguk is out with Namjoon one day, you invite Choa over so she can help you decide what to wear. You want the night to be special, and since you're going to a nice restaurant you have to look your best.

"So it's really ending, huh?" Choa says, sprawled out on your bed.

"Yeah," you say, pulling out your old prom dress. You turn around and hold it up. "Would this be too weird?"

She makes a face. "Too noughties. I thought you'd gotten rid of that thing already."

You gasp and hug the dress close to your chest. "You kidding me? There are two items of clothing you can never get rid of: your prom dress and your wedding dress."

"Honey, you are way too sentimental. I sold my prom dress for two hundred bucks when I was broke. Never regretted it. But you do you."

You go through your closet some more and pull out two more dresses, a black pinup style dress and a red bandage dress.

"Close your eyes," you say.

"Seriously? It's not like I haven't seen your naked ass before," She says, but closes her eyes anyway.

You put on the black dress first and slip into a pair of heels to give the full effect. "Okay, open."

Choa sweeps her eyes over you, tilting her head to the side. "It's pretty. But it depends what effect you're going for."

"I'm not really sure what effect I'm going for. Let me try the second one on and we'll decide." Choa closes her eyes once more and you put on the red dress, enjoying the way it settles over your body. Dresses like these are unforgiving in that they accentuate every bump and curve, but they also give you this high of confidence, even if you have a food baby busting out underneath the fabric. You've always felt incredibly sexy in this dress, but Jeongguk has never seen you in it. The thought of his reaction excites you and you know you're set on this dress.

You tell Choa to open her eyes and you can tell she likes this dress much more.

"What do you think?"

Choa opens his mouth, then closes it, considering what to say. "Well… Let me say this. If I were Jeongguk, I'd probably have a raging boner underneath the table the entire night. I mean, I'd bang you if I didn’t have Hyejeong. Just saying."

You grin. "So this is the dress, then."

"This is the dress."

The night of the final proposal finally arrives and your body is filled with butterflies the entire day. You can barely focus on work and when the day is over at last, you run as fast as you can in your heels to the bus stop, your leg bouncing anxiously the entire way home. Jeongguk calls you right as you're walking through the door to let you know he's on his way.

You have forty minutes to get ready, so you take the quickest shower in human history, put on makeup, and attempt to do your hair as nicely as possible in limited time. Jeongguk arrives just as you're stepping out of the bathroom and you rush into your room yelling, "Don't look at me until I'm all ready!"

He laughs and calls after you, "Why not?"

"It's a surprise!" You slam the door and pull on the dress. You almost trip over when you put on your heels, but manage to catch yourself against the wall before you give yourself a black eye.

Jeongguk knocks on your door a few minutes later. "You ready?"

You take a deep breath and open the door, donning your most dazzling smile. "Ready."

The look Jeongguk gives you makes your heart skip a bit. Or three. He seems to realize he's staring and clears his throat, not quite able to meet your eyes.

"You look nice," he says and the strangled way he has to force out his words tell you this was the right dress to wear. The taxi ride over to the restaurant is a short one and you almost can't believe how fancy the place is when you see it. The wait staff are all smiles, treating you like you're the queen or something. The colour scheme is all gold and white, beautiful decorations adorning the interior, and a large chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Each couple sitting at their tables look like they're in their own world, and you can understand why. Somehow this place is like stepping into another world where you can forget about everything outside the front door, just for a little while. There's a platform tucked into a corner where a man plays a grand piano, filling the room with classical music.

You're guided to your table where the waiter actually pulls out your seat for you and places the cloth napkin on your lap.

The menu is small and you don't understand what half the options mean, so you order whatever makes the most sense to you and hope for the best. For the price you're paying, anything must taste nice. And it does. Your main arrives thirty minutes after your appetizer and you swear the food somehow melts in your mouth. You have to stop yourself from making inappropriate noises at one point after a woman sitting at a table nearby casts you a look.

You eat your meal slowly, savouring each taste and prolonging the night as much as you can. When your plates are cleared, you lay your palm facing up on the table and Jeongguk takes it. The warmth of his hand against yours is so familiar and feels so much like home.

"I'm going to miss this," you admit.

"Nothing is going to change," Jeongguk says, but it doesn't look like he believes it. In these kinds of moments you share something that you don't share anywhere else. And once they're gone, whatever that something is goes away too. "I'll still be right here."

"Yeah, but…" You sigh, unsure how to finish.

"I know," he says, and you believe he does.

You reach across the table and brush away a strand of hair out of his face. He watches you in such an unwavering way that makes you hold your breath as your fingers graze his cheek and that's when you know you're in love with him. You’re in love with him and you probably have been for months.

A strange calm settles over you because now you finally know how you feel and it’s a truly beautiful feeling. The realization makes your heart pound but before you even have time to process it, dessert arrives and the act has to go on.

Jeongguk holds out his spoon for you to taste his dish, and you do the same for him. Suddenly everything seems to burn brighter and feels like the first time. Every touch leaves you a little bit breathless, every time he laughs makes your heart surge, and every time he looks at you completely lose yourself in him all over again.

But he’s never going to know. And you need him to. You need to tell him, even if it’s all for show and he goes home believing it was part of the final proposal. You need to tell him how you feel or you’ll never forgive yourself for not trying. After all these months of torment and confusion, you have to set yourself free.

"Let me do it," you say, unable to stop the words from coming out of your mouth.

Jeongguk frowns. "Do what?"

"Propose. Let me propose." If you can't really tell him how you feel, you can at least tell him in a lie. You can make this last day count.

"Are you sure?"

You nod quickly and approach a waitress, asking if it would be possible for the pianist to stop playing for just a few moments. She looks confused, but she asks anyway and the man stops playing, also looking confused. You're so nervous that it makes you stomach twist like a bagel, but you take Jeongguk's hands and guide him to the platform. He's staring at you wide-eyed, unsure what exactly you're trying to do. Honestly, you're not sure either, but you just know you need to do this.

There are a few tables looking at you, trying to figure out if you're just being a nuisance or if you're entertainment (probably the former, but whatever), so you say, "Um, excuse me?" More heads turn. Fuck, maybe this was a horrible idea. Too late to turn back now.

"Hi, sorry to interrupt your dinner, but I just needed to say something to this man here and I only need a minute of your time." You turn to Jeongguk, squeezing his hands in yours. Your voice shakes, but you plough on.

"Jeongguk, we first met when we were in second grade and we’ve been inseparable since. I think about that day so often and about how you came to my rescue then, and how you continue to today. I was new to town and it was the middle of the school semester. I was so scared. I was scared I wasn't going to make any friends and when the teacher told me to introduce myself to class I started crying like a baby. It was embarrassing and horrible and I wanted to go home, but then you got up, walked on over to me, took my hand, and said 'I'll be your friend'. And everything was better. Because that's what you do, you make everything better in the world and nothing is too scary when you're there.

"I don't know where this is going, but I just needed you to know that when I look at you, it's like the freaking stars align and everything bad in the world goes quiet. I've always hated clichés, but being with you, I can understand where they come from. You’re the kindest soul I have ever met and I wouldn’t be the person I am today without you. You inspire me with your bravery and your selflessness and you make me want to be more. I don’t know who I would be without you, and I honestly don’t want to know.

“What I’m trying to say is I love you." Tears prick your eyes and you let them fall even though you're standing in a bunch of strangers probably making a complete fool out of yourself. "I love you and I want to continue to love you for the rest of my life. Let me love you, let me protect you, let me support you through everything you do. Marry me, Jeongguk. Marry me and I promise you-"

Jeongguk doesn't let you finish. He pulls you in for a kiss, hard, yet oh so gentle, and salty from your tears, but still perfect. When he draws back he says, "Yes. Yes, of course I'll marry you. I love you. I love you, I only need you."

He kisses you again, softer this time, and people start clapping, drawing you out of your reverie. You laugh when you finally face everyone, wiping away your tears as carefully as possible in case there's any makeup left to salvage. Two couples offer their congratulations and your waiter brings over a glass of champagne, opening it with a loud pop and saying it's on the house, but you really don't care about the free food anymore. This isn't about trying to get out of paying. This was for you and for him and that's all that matters.

You don’t exchange many words for the rest of the night, but there’s no need to. Somehow, the two of you communicate what you’re feeling without uttering a single word. But every now and then Jeongguk looks at you it's like he wants to tell you something and he's about to, but he never goes through with it.

He holds your hand for the remainder of the night, even in the taxi ride home and the elevator ride up to your floor. He only lets go when you step inside and with the faint click of the door, the illusion is over. That was really it. That was the last proposal. Your heart sinks a little at the thought, but you're happy they ended on a good note. They couldn’t have come to a close any better and you're glad that you finally got out everything you were feeling, even if your words ultimately mean nothing to him.

You drop your bag to the floor as soon as the door is closed and kick your heels off, letting out the loudest sigh of relief now that your feet aren't in those torture devices. You hang your coat up and head for your room to get into more comfortable clothing.

"Man, not to pat myself on the back, but I think I fucking killed it today," you say. "I'm just gonna change, one sec."

You slip out of the dress and hang onto it for a moment before putting it away. You're always going to remember this night whenever you wear it. You close the closet door, but don’t leave your room. Not yet. You need a second to recompose yourself after baring yourself emotionally. If you were told before the proposals that this is where you would be and this is what would happen, you wouldn’t believe it for a second. You never would have guessed that you would fall for Jeongguk and that you would tell him. Sure, you told him in a proposal, but you still told him. And you would do it all again in a heartbeat. Even with all the pain and confusion, you wouldn’t take it back. Because through all of this you got to see sides of Jeongguk you would’ve never seen before and you would never get to feel this kind of love for him. Your life changed because of one decision in ways you couldn’t imagine. With Jeongguk’s help, you’ve become more confident and stronger. So with this strength you make another decision. After tonight, you’re going to love him enough to let him go.

Jeongguk is still in his formalwear when you step out of your room, but he has loosened his tie a little bit. You join him by the window, gazing out at the city below.

You realize Jeongguk hasn't said anything in a while and glance over at him. He's chewing on his lip, deep in thought. You hold out a hand and he takes it. His thumb brushes against the back of your hand. After all these proposals, touching like this has become second nature. If there’s anything you’re going to miss most, it’s this.

"This proposal thing was a fun idea. Can you believe how many we've done already? Jeez, proposing after this is going to be a breeze. I give you permission to copy my proposal if you must." You watch the lights outside blink in and out, red, yellow, blue. Even at this time, the roads have plenty of cars and people are still out and about. "I'll bet you someone is going to steal today's proposal and use it as inspiration. I wouldn't blame them though, honestly. It was pretty freaking great considering it was unscripted."

"I love you."

You smile, thinking nothing of what he just said. "I love you too."

"No," he says, shaking his head quickly. "No, Y/N, I mean… I mean I'm in love with you."

You face him and every thought in your brain goes silent. His thumb has stopped moving and his eyes are burning with urgency. "What?" You say. You're so sure you must have misheard him, he didn't just say what you thought he did.

"Y/N," he repeats, stepping closer to you, "I love you."

"Jeongguk, there's no audience, what're you talking about?"

He drops your hand and runs his fingers through his hair. You notice that he's shaking. He's nervous. Really nervous.

"These fake proposals, they started as something fun,” he says, “But somewhere along the way, they started to feel real. I wasn't sure if you were feeling it too, if you wanted it to be real, but I can't do this anymore. I can't look at you and pretend to be in love with you then act like nothing happened. Because I am in love with you. I finally felt that spark, and I felt it with you. And I think you felt it too. What you said today, that wasn't just for the proposal, was it?"

Your heart is pounding so hard you can barely even hear the whirlwind of thoughts going through your head. Jeongguk is in love with you. Jeon Jeongguk, is in love with you.

"No, it wasn't." You voice shakes and you're not sure why. A part of you is afraid, another part is extremely bewildered, but an even bigger part is trembling with elation for what this might mean.

"Tell me what you're thinking so I know I'm not making this up," Jeongguk says, stepping forward, leaving no room between the two of you. You're certain he has to be able to hear your heartbeat. "Tell me you feel this too and we can stop pretending. I love you, Y/N."

Everything you've wanted for the last few months can finally be yours. After months of loving him in silence, of believing things could never work out, you can finally tell the truth. No more pretending. So you drop the act and with four words, everything in your life changes again.

"I love you too."

#jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #kwritersnet #networkbangtan #jeongguk x reader #***#momeraths #Proposals

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nuka-rockit · 7 years

Note

for the video games ask thing: 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21

1: Do you try to stay away from walkthroughs?

Depends. I stay away from them when I first play a game because I don’t want to get spoiled, and I always try to solve puzzles myself first. But when I’m stuck or get frustrated because I can’t make progress and I’m not having fun anymore, heck yeah I use walkthroughs. I want a bit of challenge but the primary goal is to enjoy playing not make myself feel superior to people who couldn’t figure it out without help :P

2: Company you’re always loyal to?

Not really. I have a few that I generally support, but I won’t defend genuine fuck-ups by any company out of some blind devotion, even if I liked everything they did previously. I don’t like “my team is better than yours” mentality in any situation, really. Everything’s got ups and downs.

3: Best game you’ve ever played?

Oh boy that’s gonna be impossible to answer :’D I can never pick a favourite of anything, because what I like best depends largely on my mood and what I’m most into at the moment. That said, aside from my more well-known obsessions like Dragon Age or Fallout, I really liked the Portal games, The Stanley Parable, and Left 4 Dead, among others. They’re not big or fancy or sprawling but they knew what they wanted to do and they did it well (something I’d like to see more of in the future again someday shhhh)

5: A popular series/game you just can’t get into no matter how much you try?

Half-Life has been one for me, mainly because I think I missed the bus with that one. I got HL2 as part of the Orange Box way-back-when (which I mostly bought because of Portal) and tried it, but I never really got far. I suspect that a lot of people fell in love with it because it was genuinely groundbreaking in some aspects when it first came out, but by the time I came in touch with it the novelty had mostly worn off and to me it’s decent but nothing I ever really warmed up to. Good thing too I suppose since I don’t think the series will ever get a conclusion :’D

More recently, I still haven’t managed to really get into the Witcher, even though it’s generally a genre that’s up my alley. I don’t know why, I guess I’ve just been distracted by other franchises and the Witcher is a series you really need to invest some attention into to learn the lore and terminology and stuff if you want to get really into it. I’m not putting it off indefinitely though, getting into a series way past it’s heyday is kind of my specialty after all ~

8: Best soundtrack?

SILENT HILL. At least the ones that Akira Yamaoka worked on. Seriously, even if you’re not a horror game fan or the game it belongs to wasn’t that great, Yamaoka has yet to let me down.

Alternatively, wildly different genre, The Sims soundtrack. Say about the games what you will but the music is relaxing and makes you feel good af

13: A game you were the most excited for when it wasn’t released yet?

Mhh, idk. I usually stay away from pre-release hype as to not be disappointed. I guess the closest I can think of rn is ME: Andromeda (because im love me some Mass Effect) so I was pretty pumped just for getting back into that universe (heh) but I’ve been hearing…mixed things about it. That said, I have yet to actually play it myself so the jury is still out on that one. Who knows, maybe I’ll love it and won’t shut up about it for weeks

21: How old were you when you first played a video game?

Oohh, well I first played one of them Harry Potter games when I was still in elementary (like, idk, 6 or 7 years old?), one of the ones where the character models all look like origami paper dolls with faces painted on :’D

I’ve also been playing The Sims (yes, the original sims with like 5 presets for characters that look like lego bricks) since day 1 and no I am not ashamed to admit that. They’re good games damnit

The first “genuine” game that wasn’t just meant for young kiddos I played when I was 14. I even remember what game it was (Left 4 Dead) because i was super nervous to ask my mom to buy it for me since it’s a zombie shooter and rated M. Turns out my anxiety was for nothing (as usual) because my mom just shrugged and basically went “I trust you and if you say you can handle this content with no ill effect sure I’ll buy it for you” lmao

That pretty much opened the floodgates for me because shortly after I got into other franchises and eventually led me to become the fucking NERD I am today.

#ask thingie #answer #long post #hyde791 #sorry for the novel lmao das what hapon

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ciathyzareposts · 5 years

Text

Star Control II: Why Can’t We Be Friends?

Home planet encounters make it clear that you’re not getting on the ground without going through a lot of combat first.

Star Control II is easily the most information-rich game that we’ve had so far. The two Starflight titles were well above the average RPG, but even they didn’t have half the dialogue and lore of this one. That’s good for me as a player, but not so much as a blogger–and perhaps not so much for you as a reader. I could describe what I did in the last six hours in about two paragraphs; what I discovered will take many more, and I’m not sure if you want entries that long. You’re going to get this one anyway, but I welcome your feedback on whether it’s too much.

Imagine when I get to the modern era and a game like Skyrim. The simple act of entering a dungeon, reading two skill books, killing a draugr, and finding a shrine to Clavicus Vile might take 10 minutes of game time, but I could get 10,000 words out of that with the associated descriptions and lore. As the genre has a whole becomes more information-rich, it’s going to be difficult to determine where to draw the line.

Even with the dialogue summaries the game provides, you have to take a lot of screenshots.

But I have no complaints as a player. One of the finest moments I’ve ever had with an RPG came with Morrowind about 15 years ago, the first or second time I’d played, before there were wikis all over the Internet that spoiled plot developments. One of the great mysteries of the game is what happened to the dwarves, whose ancient ruins dot the landscape, and I found myself more interested in solving that riddle than progressing with the next official quest. I looked at the map that came with the game, identified every little dome that even hinted at a Dwemer ruin, and started to explore them systematically. And the amazing thing is, my explorations bore fruit! The developers rewarded this kind of “side-curiosity” with enough evidence among the ruins that you can basically piece together the story (although you need some plot-related events to make it 100% clear).

Most of the time, your effort in an RPG rewards the character, which in turn rewards the player somewhat vicariously. When you have a curious player, however, and you reward that curiosity with information, you are directly rewarding the player. This is something that Bethesda does exceedingly well and, in my opinion, does not get enough credit for doing. Whether you like Fallout 4 for its RPG mechanics, you have to admire how information-rich its world is. Every building has a story to tell. You’ll stop by one building and read a computer log about how they were expecting some kind of shipment on October 23. You know that’s the day the bombs fell. A few hundred yards down the road, you find the remains of the truck carrying that shipment. It clearly ran off the road into a tree. There will be a skeleton a couple dozen feet beyond the tree, as if ejected from the cab of the truck. If you just tromp from quest to quest, blowing through all the areas in between, you’re cheating yourself out of a world of detail.

Star Control II doesn’t quite reward random exploration this way. Particularly given the time limit, I don’t think you could solve the game by simply visiting random systems. You have to follow some kind of quest track. And I suspect that most of the information I’m discovering will turn out to be necessary, not ancillary, to the plot. I also prefer my plots a bit more serious than Star Control‘s. But even with all those limitations, this game is a welcome relief from era titles that are nothing but combat.

A recap is in order. I am a young starship captain in an era when the human race has become “fallow slaves” to the squid-like Ur-Quan, confined to Earth under a red shield that prevents off-planet travel. The Ur-Quan give conquered races a choice between “fallow slavery” and “thrall slavery” in which they fight for the Ur-Quan Hierarchy as battle thralls. I grew up off-world, son of a marooned group of scientists studying the ruins of an ancient race called the Precursors, and I’ve been able to stay alive because I’m flying a Precursor ship. Now based out of a starbase in orbit around Earth that the Ur-Quan mysteriously abandoned, I have been collecting advanced technology, improving my star-ship, and finding allies to throw off the yoke of the Ur-Quan.

My starmap has been annotating various territories as I discover them.

I originally assumed those allies would come from races that were part of the old Alliance against the Ur-Quan, but it’s becoming clearer that all races–including Ur-Quan allies and non-affiliated races–are up for grabs, partly because the Ur-Quan have been distracted by a distant war. This is the rundown of the races I have so far:

Androsynth: Old enemy of Earth because they had once been Earth’s slaves. They seem to be gone now, destroyed by the Orz who now inhabit their system.

Ariloulaleelay: An old Alliance race that mostly disappeared after the Ur-Quan victory. Classic “little green men” who may have been responsible for abductions and experiments on Earthlings in the past. Current whereabouts unknown. They may not live in regular space.

In fact, as we’re about to find out, they do not.

Chenjesu: Crystalline beings who originally drew Earth into the old Alliance against the Ur-Quan, now trapped on Procyon under a “fallow slave” shield, along with the Mmrnmhrm.

Kohr-Ah: Some new race that the Ur-Quan are currently fighting, distracting them from my attempts to rebuild the Alliance.

Ilwrath: Cruel spider creatures, allies of the Ur-Quan, whose only weakness seems to be a fanatical belief in their gods. The Umgah are currently exploiting that weakness.

“Subtlety” does not translate well in Ilwrath.

Melnorme: A neutral race that trades in information. They’re responsible for half my clues.

Mmrnmhrm: Robotic species, member of the old Alliance. Now trapped with the Chenjesu on Procyon under a “fallow slave” shield.

Mycon: Fungoid race allied with the Ur-Quan. I haven’t met them yet in this game, but they’ve apparently taken over Syreens’ old system, and I suspect they had something to do with the destruction of Syra.

Orz: Weird yellow fish-flowers who come from the same alternate dimension as the Ariloulaleelay. Seem to have destroyed the Androsynth and taken over their space. They appear to have allied with us, but it’s hard to understand what they’re saying.

Pkunk: An unknown race currently being attacked by the Ilwrath.

The Pkunk end up being somewhat weird, but no more than most of the creatures on this list.

Precursors: An ancient race within whose ruins the main character grew up. Members of the “sentient milieu,” Their technology built my flagship. Probably extinct.

Shofixti: Cat-weasel warriors given advanced technology by the Yehat. Destroyed their own star to avoid surrendering to the Ur-Quan. One lone male warrior with a thin hold on sanity still keeps a vigil from orbit. A group of females are possibly in the hands of a VUX admiral.

Slylandro: New to the galaxy, this race has sent probes all over the place. The probes, after first claiming to be on missions of peace, are attacking everybody. In the last session, I got a clue as to where they might be coming from. One of their damned probes is almost always on my tail when I sail through hyperspace.

Captain Chester has lost all hope when it comes to these probes.

Spathi: Race of cowardly mollusks who surrendered to the Ur-Quan despite having decent ships and technology. Now serve them as battle thralls. One of them was assigned to monitor Earth but instead joined my crew early in the game.

The Spathi have a particular outlook on life.

Syreen: All-female race of buxom sirens. Joined the old Alliance after their planet, Syra, was destroyed by what they thought were natural disasters. After they surrendered to the Ur-Quan, given a new homeworld called Gaia. Accepted fallow slavery (red shield) and unwilling to break their treaty.

Taalo: Another member of the “Sentient Milieu,” a cooperative of ancient races. Probably extinct, though I had this theory that they’re the “Talking Pets.” I have one of their artifacts, a stone that blocks psychic influence.

Talking Pets: Little frog-like creatures who do all the communicating from the Ur-Quan because the Ur-Quan feel it’s beneath them to speak directly to lesser races. Unknown if they have their own history or world.

Umgah: Blob-like creatures with a cruel sense of humor. Allies to the Ur-Quan. Lately amusing themselves by impersonating the Ilwrath gods with something called a “HyperWave Caster.”

These guys turn out not to be the likeable kind of jokesters. They’re just jerks.

Ur-Quan: Putative enemies of the game. They want to conquer every other race in the galaxy. They’ve been around a long time, as they were also “Sentient Milieu” members. Willing to let conquered races live out their own destinies as “fallow slaves” under red shields, and demand that the decision be put to a popular vote.

VUX: One-eyed, snouted race allied to the Ur-Quan. Humanity apparently insulted them the first time we met, leading to an enduring hatred. I hadn’t met them yet when this session began.

The VUX are maddeningly vague on the nature of the supposed insult.

Yehat: Race of pterodactyls who chose to be battle thralls under the Ur-Quan.

Zoq-Fot-Pik: Cooperative of three small races from one planet. Caught in the crossfire between the Ur-Quan and the Kohr-Ah, glad to ally with us in the last session.

I’m going to relate what I found this session below, but as I do, it’s important to keep in mind that I usually only had a constellation, sometimes a star, as a hint. This means that for every encounter, I might have had to explore several stars and dozens of planets before finding it. Naturally, I mined those planets that had minerals and took life forms when I found those, but those tasks have become so rote and procedural at this point that there’s no point narrating them. I still haven’t found a “Rainbow World” yet.

I’ve learned to prize heavy “biological” worlds as much as mineral ones, as it gives me more to sell to the Melnorme.

As this session began, I had “to do” items related to almost all of these races, if only to make contact and find out where they stand. Because I was sick of spending so much money on fuel (I hadn’t even had enough money to purchase the “Fusion Blaster” the Melnorme gave me), I prioritized the locations closest to Earth, at least at the beginning, which is how I found myself in the Giclas constellation, looking for a rumored other neutral race. It turned out to be the Pkunk, a race of hippie birds who believe in reincarnation and positive energy and all that New Age stuff. My negotiations with the first ship I encountered went well, and they directed me to their homeworld.

The Pkunk are aware that the Ilwrath are only attacking them because someone is impersonating the Ilwrath gods. They didn’t seem to mind much. They happily agreed to join my Alliance, gave me an artifact called a Clear Spindle, and also gave me four ships (with crews) for my fleet. (I’m going to have to stop using my flagship for every combat.) Before I left, they predicted my future and said that the Ariloulaleelay would give me the ability to summon dimensional doors and travel in a way that’s even faster than hyperspace.

Well, that sucks.

The “other dimensions” thing gained even more traction with another visit to the Melnorme. I sold them the bio scans I’d made since our last contact and used my credits to buy plans for some kind of laser defense system for the Prydwen plus some information. One of the things they told me is that there is a “weakness in the division between dimensions” that manifests itself in between the Chandrasekhar and Columbae constellations on the 17th of each month (we’ll just ignore the absurdity of that).

My next trip, again based on proximity, was to the VUX (no idea why that’s always capitalized) worlds, hoping to find the Shofixti females and otherwise gauge their status. Conversations with the ships were mostly futile; the captains refused to explain the specific nature of the offense we gave them, only that they hate us forever, and even if they didn’t, they’d destroy us because that’s what the Ur-Quan want. One of them did mention that if I wanted to meet a “friendly” VUX, I should try Admiral Zex at Alpha Cerenkov. VUX encounters inevitably led to combat, so I didn’t stay in their system long.

Maybe I’ll just skip those planets.

At Alpha Cerenkov, Admiral Zex proved to be an affable, if perverted, member of the species. A hero of the earlier war, he retired to a hedonistic lifestyle years ago and seems to fetishize other races. He was willing to give me the Shofixti females if I could bring him some animal from a planet that “basks in the yellow light within the eight-star constellation of Linch-Nas-Ploh,” which he translated as “the snake-like creature who has swallowed the elephant beast.” Studying the star map, I think this probably refers to Lyncis, way up at the “north” edge of the galaxy.

Unfortunately, I think he means that last part literally.

I next went to the Yehat space nearby. When I finally encountered a Yehat ship, they were surprised to see a human outside the red shield around Earth. The crew of the ship I encountered was reluctant to kill me because of our former friendship, but their desires were at odds with the mandate from their queen to follow Ur-Quan orders. They seemed to respond when I told them that the Shofixti were still alive, but they demanded proof that I didn’t have.

At least they feel bad about it.

Around this point, I returned to starbase, where Captain Hayes told me that they’d received a distress call from the Zoq-Fot-Pik, whose home planet was under attack from a “black destroyer.” I bought an extra fuel pod, fueled, up, and headed for the ZFP homeworld.

While at starbase, I was able to buy the “Fusion Blaster” and “Point Defense” upgrades.

On the way, I encountered a Spathi ship in hyperspace. They said they wouldn’t attack but begged us not to tell the Ur-Quan that they’d let us go. Conversation with them solved one mystery: why they, as cowards, accepted “battle thrall” slavery instead of “fallow slavery.” They said they’d meant to do the latter, but the Umgah had interfered with the voting as a joke. I still have to visit the Spathi homeworld.

The Spathi and Tyron Lannister would get along.

The first major surprise came when I arrived at the ZFP world, encountered the black ship of the Kohr-Ah, and found myself speaking to an Ur-Quan! (Or, more accurately, to his Talking Pet.) It turns out that the Kohr-Ah are a faction of Ur-Quan, not a separate race. They call the regular Ur-Quan the “Kzer-Za,” and the two sides are fighting over “supremacy of Doctrine and possession of the Sa-Matra.” “We cleanse,” the captain explained. “You are the filth.”

When I asked why they were destroying us, he gave me a big info-dump of Ur-Quan history. It basically went that their species is hostile and territorial by nature. Even civilization among their own kind came late to them, and only with great difficulty, and it was even worse when they started to explore the stars and meet other races. Their only friends were the rock-like Taalo, “the only people we could stand with, or talk to, without the hunter inside us screaming, ‘Kill the interloper! Rip out its life!'” (Their description of the Taalo as sentient rocks makes me wonder if I don’t have a Taalo, rather than a Taalo “artifact,” on my ship.) Eventually, a psychic race called the Dnyarri wiped out the other “Sentient Milieu” races. They enslaved the Ur-Quan and used them to destroy the Taalo.

The Ur-Quan goes through his history.

Twist #2 came in further conversation. The Dnyarri are actually the Talking Pets! (At this point, my Taalo=Talking Pet theory was completely debunked.) They kept the Ur-Quan as slaves for thousands of years, experimenting on them genetically and splitting them into two species: green (“effete scientists and bureaucrats” and black (“the builders, the fighters, the doers”). The green became the Kzer-Za and the black became the Kohr-Ah. The Ur-Quan eventually discovered that excruciating pain could block the Dnyarri influence, so they created devices called “excruciators” to wear and thus maintain their independence.

Once the Ur-Quan achieved victory over the Dnyarri and enslaved them in turn, they decided they’d better destroy all other life in the galaxy to avoid ever being enslaved again. The Kzer-Za faction insisted that they only enslave or neutralize (i.e., fallow slavery) other races, while the Kohr-Ah demanded that they kill them outright. The schism led to the Kohr-Ah fleeing the galaxy until just recently.

The captain attacked when he was done with his speech. The huge Kohr-Ah ships fire giant throwing stars, which linger until something hits them. But you’ll be happy to know I was able to destroy the dreadnought with the BUTT missiles of the Spathi ship. I’ll talk more about combat next time, but suffice to say that I’m starting to get the hang of it.

The Ur-Quan dreadnought spams giant iron swastikas.

The ZFP were grateful for their rescue and gave me several more ships for my fleet. My flagship now has about as many escort ships as I think it can accommodate.

When the battle was over, I checked my notes and found that I was pretty close to a few other “to do” items. I started with the Umgah. I don’t know what I was expecting. Clearly, I wasn’t going to have an encounter in which they just handed me the HyperWave Caster with instructions on how to use it. Instead, in about six encounters in a row, they laughed at me and attacked. Each battle involved multiple Umgah ships. Their primary weapon has a limited range, but they have a special weapon that can suck you into proximity. I got pretty good at destroying them with the Spathi, but eventually the attacks became too much and I fled the system.

BUTT missiles home in on the Umgah ship while his weapon fires in vain.

The 17th of the month was near, and I was near the weak point in space, so I headed there. Sucked through it, I found myself in a place called “quasi-space.” Time passes there, but it doesn’t seem to use any fuel. The map showed a bunch of small blobs and one big blob. The small blobs were portals back to hyperspace, but the big blob was a portal to a planet.

Beyond hyperspace.

The planet turned out to be the homeworld of the Ariloulaleelay. The representative who contacted me explained a bit about the history of our two species, which came across as less sinister than I expected, although of course I was hearing his side. He suggested that the Ariloulaleelay had been guiding human development for a long time, and that they made themselves known, and joined the old Alliance, as a way of protecting us against other hostile species. When they were no longer needed because humanity was “safe” under the red shield, they disappeared for a while. I’m the first human to reach their homeworld. There was this chilling sequence, which may be the best RPG text so far in my chronology:

Part of what we do on Earth is for your own protection. There are parasites. Creatures who dwell Beyond. They have names, but you do not know them. They would like to find you, but they are blind to your presence, unless you show yourselves. The Androsynth showed themselves, and something noticed them. There are no more Androsynth now. Only Orz. Ignorance is your armor. They cannot see you now. They cannot smell you. Much of our work with your people involved making you invisible, changing your smell. If I tell you more, you will look where you could never look before, and while you are looking you can and will be seen. You do not want to be seen.

Traveling in quasi-space is how the Ariloulaleelay get around so fast. The alien said he’d give us a “portal spawner” so that we can use quasi-space, but we’d need to find a warp pod first. He suggested we’d find one on the wreck of an Ur-Quan dreadnought at Alpha Pavonis, not far from our current location. He mentioned that the Ariloulaleelay had recovered a Talking Pet from the same wreckage and had given it to the Umgah for care. He wanted us to stop by the Umgah and see how it fared.

We returned to hyperspace, sailed to Alpha Pavonis, visited the right planet, and got the pod.

My lander crew loots the wreckage.

At this point, I noticed that I wasn’t too far from Vega, which was one of the possible sources of the Slylandro probes. It actually turned out to be nearby Beta Corvi, but I found it. The Ariloulaleelay had said that the probes came from a world with no surface, so I hunted for a gas giant until I found the right one.

This looks promising.

I was surprised to find myself talking to a friendly group of gaseous creatures named “Content to Hover,” “Joyous Lifting,” and “Sullen Plummet.” They explained that they hardly get any visitors since the “Sentient Milieu” races were destroyed eons ago. (They went on for a while about a race that used to visit them called the “Shaggy Ones” that seemed worried about something and seemed to be seeking something.) Lonely and unable to leave their planet, they were excited when the Melnorme visited and sold them a probe.

In further discussions, it transpired that the Slylandro had mis-programmed the probe. It was supposed to seek out life forms and communicate as its top priority, but somehow “self-replicate” got set as the probe’s top priority, which means that it sees every ship that it encounters as a source of replication materials. Horrified, the Slylandro promised to try to recall the probes. In the meantime, they gave me a self-destruct code to use if I encounter any more. I thought these probes were the main quest, but it really just turned out to be a side quest.

The Slylandro reach a horrifying conclusion.

I end here, poised to swing by the Umgah (though I’ll probably just get attacked again) and then return to the Ariloulaleelay. I might need to use that portal spawner immediately because I’m running pretty low on fuel. I have three questions on my mind:

When I joined the Orz to the Alliance, did I give some unspeakable evil from another dimension access to Earth?

Are the Melnorme necessary? Meaning, are the clues that they offer exclusive to the Melnorme, or do they exist largely as a kind of backup in case a player spends more time randomly visiting planets than following the initial clues? It feels like most of the things they’ve told me have been double-confirmed in later encounters.

I’ve mostly been diplomatic in my encounters with other races, but there are also some very aggressive options. Is there a more aggressive path through the game? If I was better at combat (and enjoyed it more), could I be subjugating the other species? Could I beat Admiral Zex into submission instead of doing his quest?

Captain Chester briefly considers a different path.

The game began in January 2155, and Earth is scheduled to be destroyed in January or February 2159. It is now November 2156, so I’m about halfway through my available time. I’m hoping this portal spawner allows me to accomplish more in less time. We’ll soon see!

Time so far: 21 hours

source http://reposts.ciathyza.com/star-control-ii-why-cant-we-be-friends/

#retro games #dos games #retro #crpg #adventure #amiga #oldcomputers #8bit #16bit #blog #repost

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