#I immediately went ‘oh. i know what you will facilitate. i know where this is going. yes. YES’

[agentravensong]

my college does a play festival every spring where the plays students wrote for class in the fall get put on by students, and i have a bunch of friends who took that class with me and wrote great stuff,

and i just saw the one i was most looking forward to and. my brain is buzzing at 100 miles an hour. i can’t believe they pulled it off that well. the guy playing the lead memorized his lines, when we all only had a week between getting our actors and putting these on. that’s insane. and the rest of the actors and the directing and the way they transitioned between scenes so seamlessly and the WRITING and AAAAAHHH

[photmath]

Comme Les Fleurs - Chapter 1

Chapter 1: First Impressions

Summary: Left with no other options, Kylian must rehab his newly injured leg at a stranger’s home for the next month and she isn’t at all what he expects. Meanwhile, Aurèle has to deal with easily-irritated and sullen Kylian as she opens her home to him. 

Word Count: 6.1k

Warnings: cursing

Note: At the end, happy readings! (:

“For how long?” Kylian’s eyes shoot between the team’s psychologist, Dr. Minic, and his coach. Both of their faces are unyielding to the reluctance of Kylian’s voice.

“A month.”

“You want me to uproot my entire life for a month? At someone’s random house?” Kylian is quick to his feet, despite the ache that runs through his sore thigh. He shifts his entire weight onto his crutches and uninjured leg.

“Sit down,” Galtier reprimands, beckoning him to take a seat with an outstretched arm. Kylian lets out a scoff before he takes a seat back in the chair. “You’ve had a blow to your calf. One that you got for being careless! If you had just kept your head leveled and never went for that tackle, you wouldn’t have wound up in this situation.”

Kylian stares out the window behind Galtier’s head, knowing the words were true. Kylian had played reckless; not caring for the fouls he was committing and being frustrated that none of his teammates' passes were connecting. He had committed a dirty tackle early on, him and the other player then continuing to butt heads throughout the game.

And then finally, Kylian got a breakaway, but he was so selfishly aware of his inability to execute the ball that he forced himself through traffic when he should’ve passed the ball to an open Messi. After one too many sloppy touches trying to regain the ball, he felt a searing pain rip through his calf. He was quick to blame the Marseille player, immediately rising to his feet and pushing him. Once the Marseille player got up to shove an off-balanced Kylian, he fell to the floor harshly, only clutching onto his leg.

He wanted to argue to Galtier that his calf deciding to strain was not because of the opposing team and the foul attitude they put him in throughout the game, but it was. He was trying to prove to himself and the team that he could tie up the match if he was just given one more chance. It was something he had been doing since the World Cup; trying to prove to everyone that he still had it in him despite the sour taste of finishing in second place. And after another failed season at PSG, the last way he wanted to end the season was with a loss at home. No Coupe de France. No UCL. And now no Ligue 1 title.

“I think it would be a good idea for you to get out of the city, but not be too far,” Dr. Minic inquires. “A change in environment. Somewhere calm.”

“I can do that at my apartment,” Kylian replies. “Or in Switzerland—anywhere, really.”

Noé Martin, the team’s main physiotherapist, shakes his head, “Somewhere preferably that is one floor and where I can visit regularly.”

Kylian tuts, groaning at the idea of being sent away to the ‘middle of nowhere’ for the next month of his break. His injury was still a day old and they already had an outrageous recovery plan.

“Will you be there to facilitate my recovery?”

Martin nods, “I’ll visit. But you’ll be in good hands, I taught her everything she knows, a bright student of mine.”

“I don’t know her.”

Martin waves Kylian’s worries away, “She’s the best. Quick with her thinking and has dealt with these kinds of textbook injuries. She has a nice yard for you to do some running once you get to that point. Oh, and a good cook.”

“Why doesn’t she work with us if she’s the best?”

“She denied my offer.”

Kylian raises his eyebrows with interest, “Why?”

“I guess you’ll just have to ask her yourself.”

Kylian quiets down as he thinks about it. He didn’t have much of a choice now that everyone sided against him. He could try to tell Galtier that it wasn’t a smart idea but if both the physiotherapist and psychologist recommended it for him, there was no reason to continue discussing.

It was just going to be a month. Living with a complete stranger and her healing hands as Martin put it. Somewhere secluded without the presence of fans and overly eager journalists. He hoped that he could invite some of his friends and family to this place at the minimum.

Kylian leans back into his seat, his fingers running along the metal of his crutches, “When do I start?”

“Today,” Galtier advises. “If you want to be fit for the rest of your break and the next season, what are we waiting for?”

Kylian nods absentmindedly, “Fine, let’s get the month started then, and then I’m coming back to Paris.”

------

“This isn’t exactly a one floor house,” Kylian comments as the view of the wooden house comes into view. It was taller than it was wide. The brown was rich because of the previous downpour that the area had gotten. Despite the windows being closed, the smell of the wet grass was enough to make him sneeze.

Martin looks back at Kylian from the passenger seat, “You’ll be staying on the first floor.”

“Perfect,” Kylian whispers.

The van bounces on the rocky surface as it roars up the driveway. As he looked through the lit up windows, he could make out what seemed to be books on shelves in the first room beside the front door. The upstairs blinds had been drawn up, not minding anyone who viewed the inside. It wasn’t like they could see much anyway because he sure couldn’t. And she certainly didn’t have to worry about peeping neighbors because the last house he saw was over five kilometers away.

Martin and Dr. Minic hop out of the car, quick to aid Kylian onto the ramp that led him to the front door. They then grab his duffel bags and suitcases from the trunk.

“Try not to be sour,” Martin warns. “She’s also finding out about this arrangement just now, too.” Kylian can only muster up an unenthused smile as he comes into contact with the owner, but it quickly morphs into a strained cough.

She wasn't what he had in mind. He thought someone older, perhaps in their forties—knowing that Martin had taught at a university many years ago—so that meant whoever she was had to be older, but she isn’t. She’s around his age. That single piece of information has his irritation dissipating out of his throat and the etched scowl leaves his face immediately.

“This is Kylian,” Martin motions, his palm squeezing around Kylian’s shoulder.

Kylian gives her a timid wave, his crutch swinging with him, “Hi.”

“Hi!” She beams, her gaze glancing down at his boot. “I’m Aurèle, but you can just call me Aurie.” He doesn’t realize his own eyes are traveling down to her smile until he chokes, getting lost in the way her cheeks rose. He never thought a pair of cheeks and the crinkle beside her eyes could make his breathing so difficult to control. Not even the most back and forth game he’s played in had him jutting his mouth open for oxygen like this. “It’s nice to meet you, come on in.”

The three of them follow closely behind her, Martin’s strict glare towards Kylian doesn’t go unnoticed by him. Kylian soaks in his new surroundings for the time being. The small area to the right, the one he was able to see from the car, was a small library. A little circled table with two chairs filled the room, floor to ceiling bookshelves covered the walls of them. Towards the side seemed to be a small closet and restroom. The kitchen is pretty spacious despite a wall covering it from the living room. The dining room and living room seemed to be the main focus of the first floor, and a room hidden behind the kitchen that he couldn’t make out. But what caught his eye the most were the abundance of plants that cluttered walls and ceiling. Some were hanging down like vines while other pots were just held by a rope.

He scoffs.

“Take a seat, I’m sorry everything is a bit cluttered,” she apologizes, pointing to a stack of textbooks on the living room table. Besides that, it wasn’t messy at all, very clean and smelled of rustic leather. “I’ve been in and out of the house, trying to have everything perfect.”

Aurie lets out a nervous chuckle and Kylian’s eyes dart towards her, already feeling light on his feet from the rhythmic sound of her giggle. She isn’t looking at him though, instead looking at her mentor, Martin. For a second there, he almost wants to slap his hand across his face for thinking that sweet laugh was directed towards him.

“Anyway, I know you guys have to get back to Paris, so we can start off quickly with any instructions.”

Dr. Minic nods, pulling out the journal he kept in his back pocket, “I want you to start with monitoring his mood closely.” Kylian rolls his eyes now remembering why he was here in the first place. He decides to focus on the many photos and artwork that hang on the walls. “Kylian has a natural tendency to be easily irritable, but if anything seems too over that line, you note it.”

She nods her head, listening to his instructions despite Kylian sitting next to them. It was a bit unusual to discuss the procedures in front of the patient, but everything needed to be as transparent as possible when it came to the seriousness of Kylian’s injury.

Martin chimes, “You know the obvious protocol, but I want to view your treatment plan before you start. We’re going to go ahead and start recovery in two days, that way some of the swelling can go down. But if his swelling hasn’t gone down to a decent amount, wait one more day. He already knows that he shouldn’t be up and moving around.”

Dr. Minic agrees, closing his journal, “I think that was my only concern. I look forward to seeing you next weekend with an update.”

He suddenly stands and Martin follows suit, directing their attention to Kylian to tell him their goodbyes before she walks them out of the house.

It was an awkward and sudden shift for her too. Just yesterday she was setting up the weekly bingo event for the retirement home she worked at, to having a very animated phone call from Martin. He had to persuade her to open up her home for Kylian, having used her home for previous patients but this one was of course different. She wasn’t harboring the star of the world a couple of days ago.

Kylian on the other hand, is busy on his phone, groaning at the slow service. He was trying to find the address, knowing he was somewhere in the outskirts of Paris but couldn’t pin the exact location.

Entering the living room, she greets him again, a little hesitant on what to do with him, “So um, the downstairs doesn’t necessarily have a bedroom. The couch you sit on turns into a bed, so I’ll have to set it up for you each night until you can do it yourself. Restroom is right over there and everything in the fridge and house, you are welcome to have. Your bags, for the moment, will be in this room over here behind the kitchen—it used to be a bedroom but we had to turn it into a little gym and rehab room.”

Kylian slowly nods his head, too focused on his phone to listen to every word she says. The address had finally loaded; he was only an hour away, not all that far from his drivers.

“Next week, you should be able to go up the stairs more comfortably and you’ll have a bedroom up there. So for the meantime, I apologize that you won’t have much privacy,” she says meekly.

What finally pulls him out of his trance is Aurie reaching down in front of him, he looks up, startled to see her this close.

“Go ahead and rest your leg up on the table,” she pats on the wood. He does it reluctantly. “I’m going to take off the brace and get you on ice, we won’t be doing anything today anyway. Any pain?”

He nods, his eyes pinching closed as she unstraps the boot, “Yeah, a lot. It feels sore.”

“It’s a lot more than sore,” she mutters, a smile forming on her face. Her witty remark has him suddenly on edge, it was her first and it definitely took him by surprise. Aurie had attempted to break the tension, but instead, the corners of his eyebrows were drawn down.

“Who even are you?” He sits up, leaning closer to her. His hand lands right on top of hers to stop her from unbuckling the straps. She tugs her hand away from his contact quickly. It was too warm and soft, way beyond the lines of professionalism, but so was her comment, she realizes.

And his harsh gaze caught her off guard. She knew he was going to be upset because of the change and recent injury, but she didn’t expect his eyes to darken the longer she stared at him.

“I’m a physiotherapist and am going to be in charge of your recovery for the time being.”

His hand wraps around the buckle of his boot, clasping it closed, “Are you sure you're qualified?”

“Excuse me?”

“You don’t look a day older than me,” he spits.

She’s completely taken aback now. Martin certainly didn’t warn her about this, but she assumed this is what ‘easily irritable’ meant. She sits back, her hands clasping onto her thighs, “I’m sorry, it seems we got off the wrong foot so how about we just restart? I’m Aurie, I’m only a couple of months older than you, not that my age matters, but like what Martin told you, he taught me everything I need to know.”

Kylian bites onto his tongue, his eyes transfixed on her hands fidgeting against her thighs. She was just some months older than him and that seemed to make him lower his walls an inch or two. She was trying, while he certainly wasn’t. Maybe he should start. He rolls his eyes at his thoughts, “Martin seems to trust you, but after taking a glimpse at the books you keep on your bookshelf, I don’t think he was right.”

“Do you want me to call him for you?” She pulls her phone out of her pocket, quickly searching for Martin’s number.

This causes a rise out of Kylian, he sits up further, grimacing as he bangs his leg onto the coffee table. “No.”

“Okay then,” she says, forcing a polite smile towards him. Shoving the stack of textbooks to the other corner of the table, she sits down, his leg still in front of her. “I’m in charge of minimizing the swelling for the moment, can you let me do that? Trust me, the faster you cooperate, the quicker I can be done and out of your hair.”

He watches her hands hover over his leg again, pausing to look up at him, waiting for his permission to continue. He silently exhales, giving her a small nod and she unstraps his boot. Before she takes the brace off entirely, she gets up to retrieve an ice pack to minimize some of the pain he was feeling.

Kylian watches her every step, still stunned at how she held her ground. He had felt a bit guilty for his sudden outburst when Aurie was in the same position he was, and the shooting pain he had down his leg settled him back into his senses, knowing that she was the only one able to take the pain away.

“Are you comfortable this way? You’ll have to be seated like this for at least fifteen minutes,” she asks, crouching down at his leg. He silently nods, letting her do her work.

She slides the brace from underneath his leg while he bites onto his lip to stifle any pain he expected but none came. The only thing he felt were her fingers as they maneuvered the ice pack underneath him. His eyes don’t stray from scanning her crouched frame. The simple task of taking off the boot seemed so easy for her to do, and she did it without causing pain in just a few stealthy moves. Maybe Martin was right, but Kylian wasn’t going to admit that anytime soon.

“I’m going to go ahead and start dinner until the timer goes off,” she glances at him.

“Okay.” He’s completely entranced with the way her hands held onto the timer to set it. She tosses it up before catching it, and then walks towards the kitchen.

“I hope you like stew,” she teases. She looks over her shoulder with a grin and his mouth opens, but then shuts closed. His eyes end up giving away his amusement.

------

“Why don’t you work at PSG if you’re as good as they say?” Kylian asks after too many minutes of silence. He was sitting across from her and she could feel his eyes on her the entire time he ate. He didn’t even seem to care when she caught his stares, just continuing to stare right through her.  

The spoon clanks against the glass bowl as she sets it down, “It was just too much of a drastic change. I was there for a month before I refused an extension from Martin.”

“You were there with us?”

“Yes, but I only worked during training, never on the sidelines.”

He nods, it makes sense. He would have definitely remembered her face if he had seen her before because she would’ve stood out like a sore thumb in a group full of men. “Did Martin get on your nerves so much that you decided to leave?”

She smiles, taking in the kind light that glowed on his features. He didn’t seem as upset as before. Once she had taken the ice pack off of him, he took a nap on the couch and that seemed to have awakened a different man than the one before.

“Not necessarily. I was used to chronic injuries and chronic problems, that being around acute injuries was different. I’ve worked with older people extensively, so you know, they’ve lived their lives and dreams and everything they wanted to do—or they didn’t—but are still focused on the positives of their life,” she says. Kylian’s eyes don’t waver away from the smile that sweeps across her face.

She shrugs, “And then I was met with Neymar.” She chuckles and Kylian’s shoulders roll forward as he laughs. “I had seen the poor guy everyday. The more I was with him, the more stories he told me, and how he hated not playing. And then he would return to play, but then boom, be back in the room that same day.

“I got too emotional, too sad to know that whatever kind of precautions he took, sudden injuries were possible. Or in his case, because of the playstyle he has, his ankles were always going to be a problem for defenders. I disliked seeing how heartbroken he was and the others alongside him that it made me sad. How some players fight so hard for something and then it can just be gone that quickly or never comes…”

Her voice gradually fades away into a sobering tone and Kylian has to pry his eyes away from hers. He didn’t want to think of his own injury like that, and he certainly didn’t want to reminisce about lost opportunities.

“I would get too upset at seeing him in that room. He became a great friend, but god, did I dislike seeing him under those circumstances. It was like everything we worked on for weeks, anything new I tried on him, was for nothing,” she shudders and glances at Kylian’s wide eyes. Her words had startled him. “Anyway, I’m sorry about going on a tangent, I didn’t think it would get to that—”

“It’s okay, I had asked,” he waves her off, knowing that she sensed the sudden shift of the room.

“I don’t know how Martin does it,” she retreats. “Being the first on the field in a loud stadium like that, I did it once and froze up on the spot.”

He chuckles, enjoying the way her voice changed to being lively. “Are you going to tell me about it?”

She groans, “It isn’t all that much entertaining. It was a simple cramped up muscle, but I just froze up trying to take out the right bottle so I ended up spraying him with water, having grabbed a water bottle by accident.”

Kylian smirks, “But Martin said you were bright and a quick thinker.”

“I usually am, but that was a bad moment—a rookie mistake. After that, I immediately knew I didn’t belong on the field.”

His eyes trail down to her lips, his own heart suddenly soothing at the sight of it. The bubbling feeling rising in his chest is so unfamiliar that he presses his fingers to his chest to stop it.

“I should probably start washing the dishes so we can wind down, we have a big day tomorrow.” She stands up and grabs his dish, walking both of their bowls to the sink.

“I thought I was on bedrest?”

“You are, but that doesn’t mean you can’t go out to the retirement home with me,” she offers. Aurie’s back is facing him so she doesn’t see the confusion that grows on his face. “We have a bingo match to host.”

“Bingo?”

“Bright and early tomorrow.”

“You can’t be serious,” he deflates. “Martin said I needed to stay out of the public, that’s the whole reason why I’m here.”

She faces him, picking up the sleeves of her long sweater, “They’re in their seventies, they aren’t going to recognize you. It isn’t what you think it is.”

He tilts his head, “How do you know what I’m thinking?”

“You’re thinking it’s some giant hospital or charity event,” she guesses, and he blinks rapidly. She had guessed right. Shaking her head, she turns away from him and starts washing the dishes, “It isn’t like that. Just a little building that’s about a ten minute drive from here.”

Kylian chews on his lip, knowing that he wouldn’t mind leaving to see what this side has to offer. Feeling the need to help her out despite his injury, he gets up quietly and hobbles towards her with his crutches. He stops beside her, grabbing a kitchen towel to dry off the dishes.

“Kylian!” She scolds, looking down at his leg. “You shouldn’t be standing right now.”

“Let me just help you with this,” he shrugs, his arm grazing hers in the process. “I won’t do it again.”

She fights the smile that wants to break through her lips. It was a kind gesture and it made her feel better. She washes the dishes in comfortable silence, Kylian drying each of them as she hands them over.

As she washes the last pot, she faces Kylian as she hands it to him and he’s already staring back at her. His eyes are glued onto her nose and lips; she turns away, her cheeks burning.

He wants her attention back on him, just another moment to savor the feeling of whatever was brewing in his chest. He grimaces, “Your plant is dying.”

“Which one?” she chuckles, flashing her smile towards Kylian and he loses his balance, immediately clutching onto his crutch. She grabs a hold of bicep, her hand is still wet but neither of them care. Her other soapy hand grabs a fistful of his hoodie, “Are you okay?”

He nods, his ears burning with embarrassment. Never did he think someone’s smile would have him losing balance. “Yeah. And erm—the plant on the table.”

She frowns, “Ah, that one is my niece’s. Her dad, my brother-in-law, got her a plant last Valentine’s and she went on vacation, so it dried while she was gone. She was very upset about it and I promised her I’d revive it, but it might be a goner. I’m planning on just getting her a new one. I hate seeing her sad eyes.”

He smiles to himself, thinking about his own nephew and niece. He needed to call them whenever he got the chance. “You don’t think she’d notice?”

Aurie shakes her head, “Well she’s four, so I hope not. I’m just going to repot the new one because if that pot with pink hearts goes missing, that will certainly cause a stir.”

She leans over Kylian to put away the dried dishes that he had already dried on the dishrack. The scent of her hair engulfs Kylian’s nose and he gulps it down. He steps backwards to give her a little more space, “I think you can do it. Revive the plant.”

She walks in front of him to place the pots in the bottom cabinet, “I don’t know, I’ve been trying for a week. At this point, it’s up to the plant.”

He grins, his lips mocking hers, “It’s up to the plant…”

------

Muffled groans wake her up in the middle of the night. She had left her bedroom door ajar in case something happened to Kylian while he slept downstairs.

The groans only grow louder and she sighs, knowing that Kylian was probably in a grave amount of pain by now. His pain medications had to have worn off some hours ago, given that it was two in the morning. She grabs the box of his medicine and makes her way downstairs. The lamp by the couch was turned on, and it could have only been turned on if Kylian had walked to it—but he shouldn’t be walking at all.

She picks up her pace, rushing down the stairs, and once she comes into view with the bed, she almost shrieks in terror at the sight. Kylian had his head buried in his arms as he laid on his stomach, a girl near his legs massaging both of his calves.

“Who are you?!”

Kylian’s head shoots up from the couch and the girl freezes with her hands on his calves. The stark discoloration of Kylian’s calf just continued to angrily scream back at Aurie.

“What the hell is going on?”

Kylian can only gape in shock as he looks at Aurie. Her shirt had risen up while she slept and the joggers that she had worn earlier were stripped into a tiny pair of shorts that his sudden ability to think was lost, too entranced by the sudden view of her legs.

The weight of the bed shifting causes Kylian to snap back into reality as the girl stands up, “I’m sorry—”

“Who even are you?” Aurie stands about a meter in front of them, her eyes glued to the girl.

“I was just giving him a massage, he was in pain—”

“A massage?” She yells, her fists gripping onto her shorts trying to hold in the anger that rose through her. “Massaging a not even two-day-old strain? Are you trying to ruin his career?”

“What?” She gasps, looking back at Kylian and then Aurie, “No!”

“Then what did you think you were doing?”

Her mouth falls open and then closed, Aurie grows impatient with her lack of response.

“Get out of my house.”

Kylian shifts his weight onto his elbows, “Aurie, wait, she was just trying to help.”

Aurie takes a deep breath, and then pinches herself to make sure her sleep wasn’t deceiving her. As if that girl hadn’t just impeded Kylian’s healing process by days. Another pinch to her thigh to hope that she was hallucinating, that Kylian hadn’t actually invited an entire stranger to her home.

Kylian watches Aurie as she tries to calm down, and heat creeps onto his back as he realizes his own mistake. It slowly dawns on him, “Lucette didn’t know.”

Lucette turns, her brown hair swinging towards him, “We didn’t know.”

Kylian gulps, “We thought it was okay—I was in a lot of pain and it wasn’t going away. It felt like a knot…like it just needed to be kneaded out.”

She runs her hand down her face while her thumbs press into her eyes. She was baffled at their carelessness. Especially at Kylian, he should’ve known better.

Not just with his calf, but also for disregarding the basic communication of bringing someone over while she slept upstairs. He had never asked for permission nor even mentioned it as a heads up. It was one thing if it was in the afternoon to be met with a surprise visitor, but at two in the morning?

She was absolutely livid.

Lucette swallows, grabbing her jacket, “I think I’m just going to go.”

“Please do,” Aurie responds, too upset to be nice and beyond the time to be professional.

Kylian’s eyes grow wide, “Aurie.” Lucette walks towards him, bending down to kiss him and Aurie turns away.

Of course he brought his girlfriend to her place and she wanted to be the savior. The story could write itself. Aurie tries to calm down her breathing.

Lucette beelines towards the front door and Aurie doesn’t shy away from eyeing her down. Kylian was going to get mouthful and she was going to have to tell Martin and Dr. Minic in the morning.

She locks the door after Lucette leaves and lets out a slow exhale while closing her eyes.

“You didn’t have to be so rude to her,” Kylian grits, rolling around to lay on his back. “It’s two in the morning and you really kicked her out? C’mon now.”

She stares at him in silence, still debating what she should say first.

“I needed help and you were sleeping.”

She shakes her head, “So you called someone with no kind of medical background?”

His eyebrows crease, “We had read a bunch of articles on Google.”

“Oh my god, Kylian. You can’t be this stupid. You can’t have made it this far and be this stupid. You have a Grade 2 muscle strain! If it was a Grade 1, yeah, sure you can massage it, but are you kidding? A Grade 2?” Her voice is still hoarse from the night as she places her hands on her hips.

Kylian leans forward, wincing at his leg, “Don’t call me stupid. You were nowhere to be found and I was in a lot of pain.”

“My door was wide open, you idiot! I would have heard you if you were calling out to me.”

“You didn’t hear the front door open,” he taunts.

“Because that was the last thing I expected to happen!” She retorts, “I woke up because I heard you grunting in what sounded like pain, so I got up to bring you your medicine.”

Kylian’s eyes grow as he looks at the box in her hand. After having spent the past hour gnawing his teeth, he didn’t realize she carried the very solution to end it.

“I can’t believe you,” she palms her forehead. “I can’t believe you brought a total stranger to this house. I’m just—”

He doesn’t like the way Aurie’s irritation had turned into utter disappointment, it felt too much like the scoldings he would get when he was in school or ruined a perfect pass. He turns away, his eyes instead focusing on her legs—or on anything else for that matter.

Her vision was still blurred from the grogginess of her sudden wake and the dismay of events that transpired. Her head started to pound.

“You know what, I refuse to deal with this,” she rubs her eyes. “I’m not about to sit here and make a detailed plan and timeline of your recovery while you could care less about it. Quite frankly, I’m not getting paid enough for this.”

She starts pacing towards the kitchen, searching for a glass. She fills it with water and walks where he lay. “You’re only making yourself worse and I am not a therapist for a reason. If you don’t want to do your recovery here, then fine, I don’t care. This was a favor for Martin, not you. So you know what, you can go home tomorrow. And here’s your fucking medicine.”

She rips open the bottle cap and sets a capsule beside his water.

Finished and done with the game he was playing.

“And put a damn pillow underneath your leg when you sleep,” she sneers.

Kylian watches her in complete silence. Too awestriken with what just occurred. First she was kicking Lucette out, and now she was giving him the greenlight to leave. He should’ve felt relieved, that he wouldn’t have to put up with whatever this sudden arrangement was, but he didn’t. He felt guilty again.

He knew that he had messed up and knew that he should have asked her before he let Lucette massage him, but he didn’t think much of it at the time. He especially didn’t think it would cause him further injury.

------

Kylian had woken up in a gross amount of pain the next morning. It had rendered him speechless, afraid that if he moved it would radiate through him worse. He breathed heavily, trying to calm himself down but he couldn’t. He wanted to call for Aurie but his mind was still repeating the events from the previous night. How willing was Aurie to still help him despite what she said last night and what he had done?

But there she was. He heard the creak of the wooden stairs as she came to him quickly.

“Hey,” she greets. His eyes are screwed shut and his arms are splayed on top of his face. She touches his arm gingerly and he wants to melt at the sound of her voice and touch, wanting to just inch towards her in hopes that the pain drowns away. It seemed to work because it had subsided by a fraction, but it was enough to have him slowly opening his eyes. “Sit up to take your medicine.”

“I don’t want to move,” he stresses.

Her lips tug into a frown, and he stares at the feature, wanting to somehow wipe away the worry. She stands before he can continue thinking of ways to erase her frown, “I’ll help you.”

Kylian hadn’t noticed that he was profusely sweating through his clothes until she tugged at his waist, his shirt feeling grossly stuck to his body. He cringes as he wills himself up. She adjusts a pillow behind him, her eyes already fixed onto his calf.

He swallows the pill and gulps the rest of the water with haste. Her hands are busy unwrapping the compression bandage he wore. His leg had swelled more, and the bandage being tight was what caused him the pain because as soon as she loosened it, he let out a groan of satisfaction.

She takes a moment to examine his leg. Lucette’s massage had done an extensive amount of damage through the night and Aurie’s job to fix it just slowly got delayed. His swelling and purple bruises only seemed to grow, already putting him two more days behind schedule. Martin certainly wasn’t going to be happy.

“Did she massage your thigh by any chance?” Aurie asks, watching Kylian’s chest heave up and down, sweat dripping down his temples.

Kylian nods, wiping the sweat away from his face, “Yeah.”

Aurie stares back at his thigh, trying to peek at his hamstrings to see if there's any discoloration, but she knows she doesn’t have to look to know her answer.

His month-long stay would now have to be a month and a half. Something that neither her or Martin had discussed. She promised her job that she would be back within a month and that Kylian would be all Martin’s responsibility afterward.

But that was no longer her problem, he was going home today anyway.

She lets out an unnoticeable sigh, grabbing the black compression wrap and starts wrapping his leg back up, making sure it isn’t too tight for him.

“Thank you,” he exhausts, his eyes fluttering closed.

Her shoulders only fell back at the sight of him: sweaty and exhausted, his eyebrows creased and his lips parted open. His hands are clenching onto the shorts he wore, trying to distract himself until the meds kicked in. Even if she wanted him to be gone already, to get rid of the fever dream she and him had both experienced last night, she would have to help him in the shower first.

That was going to take a while.

-

Note: I wasn’t sure to add the people from my other main taglist that I had for my other fics since this is a whole series so uh yeah haha. Just let me know! AHH first chapter, I think I was more excited to finally just get this out here so I could stop looking back at the chapter and trying to add anymore edits--especially after the disappointing loss to Bayern. Anyway, how are we feeling? Any first chapter thoughts? I’ll most likely stay between 6k-10k words for each chapter.

Taglist: @kylianswifey @darlingmbappe​

[thiswasinevitableid]

Local Legend (Indruck)

A reader requested #18. I’m a celebrity who’s home in my small town for the holidays and you recognize me in public - sort of

Note: mentions of pot use

Fucking global warming. Or maybe it’s the polar vortex? Either way, Duck could do without the almost-blizzard currently reducing his trip to a crawl. It’s so bad the radio signal is toast, and he can’t risk taking a hand off the wheel even at this pace, so he’s been stuck with his thoughts for the last forty-five minutes.

They’re not bad thoughts; he’s excited for his nephews to see the presents he got them, to catch up with Jane, to slow down and enjoy all those Christmas light filled moments that are supposed to make life worth living.

He’s also chewing on a conversation from yesterday like a goat gnawing at a weed. He’d gone to a continuing ed course, where the chipper facilitator made them write out the goals they had in their past, how those aligned with their present, and what they wanted for their future. What this had to do with wildlife and forestry management, he has no idea. When it came time for a group discussion where the ice breaker was “your most extraordinary moment” he was starting to feel like “just keep doing what I’m doing, maybe get married, don’t die at age fifty” was not the future the presenter had in mind. 

His extraordinary moment–beating out several other hopefuls for a full-time ranger position in the national forest–looked minuscule next to the world traveling, small business having, kid and grandkid filled lives of the other attendees. 

There is one other moment he could have shared. But no one would have believed him (he wouldn’t either except he’d been there)

He’s eighteen, has snuck off into the forest to smoke with some friends. Friends who have all gone home while he decided to chill a while longer under the starry sky. Trouble is, now he’s a little turned around and the calm fog in his mind is giving way to some serious paranoia. 

After what feels like ten hours of wandering in circles, he slumps down against a tree, resting his head on the trunk. Bark scratches his scalp as he looks up into the branches. 

Something in the branches looks down. Something with glowing red eyes and dark wings. 

“Uh. Hey there, Mr. Mothman. Are you gonna eat me? You’re not gonna eat me, right?”

The creature above him holds perfectly still. 

“Man, I know you’re there. Trees don’t have fuckin eyes. Are you tryin to lay in wait like a, a trapdoor spider but in the trees? A treedoor spider? Oh, oh fuck, if moths can get this big who says spiders can’t? Fuck, I’m gonna be eaten by a man-sized trapdoor spider and my parents are gonna find a husk wearin’ my jeans.”

Silent wingbeats carry the cryptid to the ground. Duck tries to back away, forgetting he’s against a tree, and bangs his head into the wood. 

“Owfuck”

“It is alright.” The mothman holds out two of his four hands, “I am not going to hurt you. And I assure you there are no Spidermen in these woods. My understanding is those only exist in comic books.”

“Fuck yeah, those are so fuckin cool.”

“Please focus. While you are in no immediate danger, it is unwise to be wandering the dark woods in your state and you seem to be a ways from your home.”

Duck groans, “Fuck, I really went the wrong way didn’t I?”

“Indeed. But that is not unfixable, Duck Newton. If you would like, I can escort you back to the edge of town.” He offers two hands and Duck takes them, standing and then faceplanting into a mass of downy chest feathers. 

“Fuuuuuuuck you’re soft. Like a big fluffy cloud.”

A strange little chirr from above him, “You are very kind to say so. Come, your home is this way.”

As they walk, Duck glances up at the cryptid, his already considerable height made taller by his feathery antenna.

“How’d you know my name?”

“I can see the future, and therefore I saw the timeline where you introduced yourself.”

“Damn, so all that stuff about seeing disaster is true.”

“Sadly, yes.”

“Wait, does that mean Kepler is in danger?”

“No” The cryptid links their arms together to navigate him over a tangle of roots, “I am on my way to deal with another matter and stopped here for the night.”

“You just…sleep in the woods? In the cold and everything?”

“I cannot exactly walk into a hotel like this. I have a human form but the charm that allows me to use it was damaged on my way here. Thus my night in the trees.”

Duck leans against him, “You wanna crash on my floor? My folks are out for the night and Jane’s at a friends.”

The mothman  stops, looking down at him with surprise, “There was no future where you offered that.”

“Just kinda came to me a second ago.”

“I…thank you, but no, I think it best if I stay out of sight.”

Duck shrugs, idly pets a chitinous arm and talks about things he doesn’t remember the next day until the lights of town peek through the trees. 

“Here you are.”

“Thanks. You sure you don’t wanna sleep somewhere warm? No one’ll see you but me and the dog.” 

The mothman cocks his head, wide smile spreading across his face, “You are a kind-hearted man, Duck. I foresee that serving you well. All the same, I must decline.” A clawed hand reaches out, plucking a stray leaf from Duck’s hair, “Take care, Duck Newton.”

Duck says he will, starts down the hillside into the light radiating from the back of the Kroger. When he turns back to wave, mothman is still there and raises one, spindly arm to awkwardly return the farewell. 

He never told anyone. And he sure as fuck wasn’t about to start with some random group of people at a work training. 

The storm only worsens as he hits Point Pleasant, and he does take his hand off the wheel to tip his hat to the Mothman statue. When he pulls up in front of Jane’s house, only the porchlight is on. Removing his phone from his pocket reveals four missed calls from his little sister. He keeps the car running as he calls her back. 

“Hey, sorry I missed you, I was drivin’. Everythin’ okay?”

“Yes, in that we’re all happy and healthy. No, in that the weather is so bad every flight out of Denver is grounded.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah that about sums it up. I mean, Wade’s folks are happy to have us stay a few more days, but everything say it’ll be at least two before anyone can get out of here. If you wanna go back to Kepler and wait until we know when we’re gonna be back, I totally get it.”

“Nah, I’m happy to stay here and hold down the fort. Y’all take care, okay?”

His sister is cut off by one of his nephews yelling in the background, only having time to give him a quick “bye” before she’s gone. 

He steps out of the car, going straight for the trick rock with the spare key. It’s not there. When he calls Jane to ask if she moved it, she hisses out several curses and says, “we changed the locks and I took it inside to put the new spare in. I must have left it.”

“S’okay, I’ll figure somethin out.”

His “somthing” ends up being driving to several hotels only to find them all booked up. Walking out of hotel number three, he decides to save himself a drive and just start calling them. As the nice young man on the other end explains that they’re all full because of the storm and the holidays, he spots a Holiday Inn across the road and starts for the crosswalk. 

Ice paffs into the back of his head, too hard to be accidental. 

“Fuck! No, sorry, not you, someone just hit me with a snowball.” He turns in search of the culprit and finds a tall man in a thick, black coat and red glasses staring at him. When he notices Duck glaring at him, he holds up one finger, as if telling him to wait. 

Brakes screech behind him and he whirls as a giant pick-up skids through the red light, spinning through the crosswalk he would have been in had he not been stopped.

He hangs up the phone, waving and mouthing a thank you to the stranger. The stranger waves back, smiling as he does. He’s ninety percent sure It’s a wave and smile he’s seen before. He glances back at the Holiday Inn in time to see the “No” appear next to “vacancy.”

When he looks around, he spots the stranger heading away from the center of town and jogs after him, compelled by nothing more than gratitude and the growing certainty he recognizes him. 

“Hey, uh, wait, I just wanted to say-” Duck only means to touch the man's arm, but a hidden patch of ice causes him to slip forward and grab it instead. When the other man spins, surprised, his glasses slip down to reveal red, glowing eyes. 

“Mothman?” Duck whispers.

A slender finger pushes the glasses back into place, “I do not know what you’re talking about. My name is Indrid Cold.”

“So, what, you just randomly guessed that truck was gonna hit me?”

“Maybe. Please let go of my arm.”

“Look, I could be totally wrong and if I am you can ignore me but…did you ever meet a guy named Duck Newton in the woods? When he was eighteen and stoned outta his mind?”

Indrid looks down at where Duck’s hand is still on his arm, “Yes.”

“Then he wants to thank you for saving his ass a second time.”

For a moment, Indrid’s face goes blank, and Duck is wondering if he needs to call an ambulance when the energy returns to it and he says, “And I would like to return the offer of a place to stay.”

“Holy fuck, really?”

“Yes, though we will need to take your car. If, if that is truly alright?”

“Hell yeah.”

Indrid follows him back to his Jeep, gives him detailed instructions as he slowly winds them out of town and into the woods. When the Jeep finally crunches to a stop, he frowns. 

“I don’t wanna be rude, but an abandoned TNT plant don’t seem all that cozy.”

“That all depends on how one approaches it.” Indrid grabs one of his bags while Duck hoists the other, following him to the side of one of the concrete slabs. The taller man sets his fingers on the stone. It glows orange for a moment, and then a door appears. Indrid opens it, gesturing for him to go on in. 

The interior of his house is like a basement rec room met a doomsday bunker and had a very cozy baby. There are massive beanbag chairs and a T.V, stacks of DVDs and books all over, and a shelf of boardgames that doesn’t seem to get quite as much use as the other entertainment options. Indrid snaps and a half-dozen space heaters kick on, the cryptid shedding his coat and heading to a pink beanbag. 

“Holy fuck, Indrid this place is incredible! Oh dang, I’ve got these at home too” He points to a string of chili-pepper lights above a bulletin board full of drawings, “Know they might be tacky but I can’t help it, I like ‘em.”

“I’d say that means you have excellent taste.”

Duck sits down on the beanbag across from him, “Do you really remember me?”

“Yes.” A new shade of pink crosses Indrid’s cheeks, “ah, relatedly, do you mind if I change forms.”

“It’s your house. Plus, now that I know you ain’t gonna eat me, don’t find you all that scary.”

Indrid removes his glasses. For a nanosecond, reality slows and the world warps. Then the mothman is once again sitting across from him, stretching his wings with a contented sigh. 

“Uh….have you always been white?”

“No. My kind change color during winter in order to camouflage in the snow.” Feathery white antenna twitch, “I think it makes me look like an oddly proportioned snowman.”

“Think you look more like first prize at a county fair.”

Indrid cocks his head and blinks. 

“Y’know, those big-ass plush animals that everyone is tryin’ to win?”

“Oh! Oh yes. I actually won one of those, a giant pineapple, in St. Louis. Foresight is very useful when playing games of chance.”

“I bet.” As he stretches out on the beanbag, his stomach gurgles, “damn, shoulda stopped for dinner on the way here.”

“I have ramen, macaroni and cheese, or some canned ravioli. Also lots of cereal, but I assumed you’d like something warm.”

Duck settles his hands on his stomach, “some ravioli would fuckin slap right now.”

Indrid grins and chirps, “I shall return.”

Four minutes and one microwave ding later, the cryptid returns with a bowl for Duck and a mug of eggnog for himself. They debate the finer points of different gas stations until Duck sets down his bowl and wipes his mouth.

“Indrid? Did you really invite me here just because I was nice to you years ago?”

A long tongue licks the last of the nog from the glass, “Yes and no. I do remember you, and it was rare for a human who met me to do anything other than panic, let alone invite me into their home. But I also foresaw that, while you would try your best, you would spend until your sister returned feeling lonely and blue. I knew I would also feel lonely, as I often do when cold weather forces me to stay inside as much. It seemed foolish to not at least offer an alternative where we kept each other company. And I, I thought” he taps the tips of his claws together, “I thought perhaps we could do Christmas things together? In the futures it seemed as if you had been looking forward to them.”

The simplicity of the idea, the fact Indrid, the fucking mothman, remembers their meeting as much as Duck does, and the soft hope in Indrid’s voice renders Duck speechless. 

Indrid’s wings flutter, “Or if you prefer, you can go back into town tomorrow and call a locksmith.”

Duck rolls onto his side, trying for a charming, collected grin, “Stayin with you seems like a lot more fun.”

Indrid grins and purrs, “wonderful.”

—--------------------------------------

“Whoo-boy, think I’m too fuckin old to sleep on beanbags.” Duck stretches out his back before taking the mug of coffee from Indrid. 

“Yes, it seems it would be wide to pick up an air mattress today. In the meantime, here.” Clawtips dig in delicious circles near his shoulder blades, “does that help.”

“Uh huh” Duck tips his head forward, groaning happily, “you oughta open Mothman Massage or somethin’; you’d make a killing and everyone would just think it was a tourist gimmick and not actually you.”

“It’s the noises that often give me away. Humans do not, generally speaking, trill when alarmed or chirp when happy.”

“True, but it just makes it cuter when you do it.”

Indrid’s feathers poof slightly, “That is sweet of you to say. Just let me get changed and then we can venture into the world.”

The storm isn’t any better, so they decide to only stop at Wal-Mart to avoid more chances to put the car into a snowbank. Duck grabs wrapping paper, the air mattress, and some cans of turkey soup with “holiday spices.”

“Anythin you wanna get?”

“Oh, nono, this trip is for you.” 

Duck turns, stepping close enough to Indrid that he can whisper, “this is your winter cheer too, mothman of mine. There ain’t anything you like to do this time of year?”

“I…I enjoy the lights. And cookies. And eggnog, but that was perhaps obvious.”

Thirty minutes later, they leave the superstore with several bags of food, six boxes of lights, and a tiny Christmas tree. When they get back to the TNT plant, Duck unpacks as Indrid finds a CD of Christmas music in one of his stacks. 

Duck takes point on the lights, stringing them across the lonelier corners of the room and running them up and over bookcases. Indrid pulls out a pad of origami paper and begins folding swans and moths and flowers, which he then pierces with a paperclip and hangs on the tree. He also demolishes two dozen cookies all on his own, while Duck contents himself with a box of big, chewing gingersnaps. 

His decorating scheme hits a snag when he can’t quite reach a hook in the corner  by Indrid’s bed to hang the last strand of lights on.

“Little help?”

Indrid removes his glasses, shaking out his wings as he stands. Instead of taking the lights, he lifts Duck like he’s no more than a stuffed animal, holding him up easily as he drapes the wire into place. 

“Thanks for the helpAH hey, watch it with the feathers, fluffball.” Duck cackles as Indrid tickles his neck.

“Who are you calling fluffball, little human?”

“You, fluffball.” Duck turns, begins running his hands through the feathers on Indrid’s chest, “fuck, how are these even softer than I remember? I didn’t think you could get any more stunnin’, but here we are.”

Indrid’s feathers begin poofing again, but he quickly shakes them back down and taps his claws together, “I, I have a confession. I do not remember you solely for your kindness. I was in that tree because I had seen you and thought you handsome, thought that dragging my tongue across your neck and running my fingers over your belly would be wonderful. I wanted to see how you would react to me but you saw me before I was ready. And then it was clear you were under the influence and so I changed my plan. But I never forgot it.”

Duck blushes, scratches the back of his neck, “Guess I was pretty cute back then.”

“You were. But you are just as wonderful to behold now.”

He looks up into red eyes. Then he raises on his tiptoes and plants a kiss on a fuzzy cheek, murmuring, “You’re sweet, sugar.”

Indrid poofs up completely and stays that way, chirping as Duck continues rubbing slow circles through his feathers.

“I’d always kinda hoped I’d see you again. Turns out the universe did me one better. I’m getting you know you, not just see you.” He pauses, “is this okay? You’re kinda vibrating.”

“I, rrrrr, am, rrrrrrrr, purrrrrrrrrrrrring.”

“Awww, my big ol’ feathery sugar. Come on” he tugs so they’re both sitting on Indrid’s bed, “let’s see how else I can make you purr.”

—------------------------------------------------

“Thanks so much again for rollin’ with all this.” Jane flops on the couch as Duck folds a mountain of laundry.

“It’s what big brothers are for, goofus. I was wondering, if it ain’t too much trouble, I got a, uh, friend in town who’s on his own for the holidays. Would it be okay if I invited him to dinner?”

“Long as it ain’t tonight, that’s fine.”

Duck smiles to himself, “Great. I’ll let him know as soon as I’m done.”

[valley-of-the-lost]

Something that deeply bothers me about Back From the Brink, especially as an adaptation, is its treatment of Yan Hui is absolutely criminal. My poor girl went through a meat grinder and came out the other side a shadow of her former self.

Most of her arcs from the novel are immediately flattened right out of the gate. She's immediately 100% on the side of the spirits, which completely skips her arc in the novel where she was on the side of the spirits but she had to grapple with how that was in opposition to her strong attachments to the xian sects.

Her whole dynamic with Zi Yue has been actually completely gutted. Yan Hui can no longer see ghosts, so the whole misunderstanding that soured her initially friendly relationship with Zi Yue is completely gone and replaced with a shallow tsundere senior disciple + lazy/underpowered younger disciple. It also destroys the scene at the gate of Chen Xing Mountain when Yan Hui is leaving.

What happened in the novel was that Zi Yue was trying to provoke Yan Hui as Yan Hui was leaving the mountain, and then she finally succeeds by breaking the hairpin Yan Hui's shifu gave her. The drama counterpart of this scene is just Zi Yue going "hey take your stuff with you" in a very tsundere manner and then Yan Hui stabbing next to her head. Without the trigger of the hairpin Yan Hui just looks like a dick instead of someone who was pushed to explode.

Oh, but that's not even getting into the nonsense with not only depowering Yan Hui but also poorly utilizing the few skills they allowed her to have.

There was no reason to depower her. Literally none. You can't even say it was to clear the way for her to become Lady of the Dark Aura because the whipping scene right before would've destroyed her cultivation anyway. All it does is detract from her agency, like making the event that facilitated her banishment from Chen Xing Mountain an accident as opposed to a purposeful move. It also neuters the seed of her relationship with Tian Yao because the whole reason he started falling for her was because she defended him over and over again when he was at his most vulnerable. And now the scenes where she actually does that are noticeably fewer than in the novel because those scenes required her to actually be able to fight. It's infuriating.

What makes it worse is that she DOES still have a couple of abilities of her own left over, like the ability to use ambient spiritual energy to hold her breath and make a sword fly. An ability she uses a grand total of... 3? 4? times before its dropped completely. And it might not be such a big deal if this ability wasn't revealed to be something her shifu taught her in lieu of being able to learn the stuff the other disciples were. This automatically associates the impact this ability has on Yan Hui's life to the impact her shifu has on her life. But Yan Hui barely uses her ambient spiritual energy technique, so is the story trying to say that her shifu has barely had an impact on her life?

I know that's not what it's trying to say btw, but it's laughable that when the drama reveals it was Ling Xiao that taught Yan Hui how to use ambient spiritual energy its framed like its something significant when its use in the drama was little more than a slightly useful party trick that gets dropped even before the Yongzhou arc kicks off.

Which brings me to Tian Yao and how Drama! Tian Yao is parasitic to Yan Hui's character. Yan Hui's power has been stripped so any power she has left or does get is tied to Tian Yao. He teaches her how to use the Heart Protection Scale, he has to save her from the aura in the forest with Flaming Dragon Fang (Tian Yao does a weird amount of fighting for the guy thats supposed to be depowered and has his body still 80% scattered), and Yan Hui masters the Dark Aura for the purpose of protecting/saving him. She is not allowed to keep or have a skill set that isn't tied to Tian Yao in some way.

This is in stark contrast to the novel that while she is alluded to have boosted power due to part of Tian Yao being in her body, she was actually trained by Chen Xing Mountain so those skills are all her own. Sure, Tian Yao adds to her repertoire by teaching her new techniques, but the difference between this and what the drama does is the difference between teaching someone who already knows tools how to use a new one and basically teaching someone from the ground up. It's narratively patronizing to her character.

And... in the same vein, the drama stole a scene from Yan Hui where she takes Tian Yao back to her hometown and the graves of her parents and instead has him bring her to Dragon Valley.

Hhhhh...

This might not be such a problem if the drama hadn't established that it was indeed dedicated to ripping out the structural supports of Yan Hui's character in favor of making her revolve emotionally around Tian Yao. And this just furthers it. Yan Hui isn't allowed to exist outside of Tian Yao, he can't have been sealed in a big tree near her hometown, instead she has to be an orphan that frees him unintentionally after stumbling across Dragon Valley. It's absurd.

And what's probably the worst part is that Zhou Ye was wasted in this role.

She's already proven she has the chops to act in the range of the type of character Yan Hui is. Gu Xiang is close enough to Yan Hui in terms of base attitude that I feel confident in saying Yan Hui is perfectly within Zhou Ye's acting range. And she looks great as Yan Hui too with the ponytail. But they just waste her with the butchering of Yan Hui's character and it's just sad to watch.

[voxvalentine]

reasons why you should try a d100-based system at least once

hhehehhehehheheh number biiiiiig

right got that out of the way, let's begin.

1: d100 is Big Enough. the probability of getting any one result on a d100 is 1%. the math is generally fair; yes everything is 5% on a d20 but the repetition is there. oh hey 11. weird to see you for the 9th time today but this is my life.

2: the d100 is exciting. you get answers more quickly, generally speaking; compare number against other number. you know if it's big enough or not immediately. "but there's 100 different outcomes" correct but they all feel different when they happen.

more than, roll under? HOT DAMN THAT NUMBER IS BIG! LOOK AT BIG NUMBER! WOW! I ROLLED HIGH!

less than, roll under? look how close I was! god damn! I'm lucky!

more than, roll over? hell yes I am GOOD AT THIS. I am Good At Games, I made sure number was HIGH and I SUCCEEDED, I am THE BEST.

less than, roll over? ohhh my GOD I was never gonna get that, lmao, it's funny just how small number is, wow, what are the odds huh? (1 in 100 friend It's That Easy)

I am running a campaign of 3:16: Carnage Amongst The Stars. real knowers know, if not go check it out, it's an old indie game from the 2000s. one of my players ([waves excitedly and points at your tumblr]) had a gun that killed 2d10 people per round. hi hello let's talk statistics and bounded accuracy: each d10 means she has a minimum kill total of 1 person, max 10, she kills between 2-10 guys per round, average on a d10 is 5.5, she averages 11ish kills per time she shoots her big fun gun. which is good and respectable and that is a thing that makes you feel good as well, that's a FUN number for that sort of dice pool. anyway it upgraded to a 3d10; min 3 max 30 average 16.5. pretty good and fun still.

people of tumblr, that gun upgrades to a d100 kills per shot. and that's where the real fun comes in because she did not roll high with the gun every time it went boom, and that's funny. we had fun at the table with how the d100 so comedically betrays. it has so much potential and it rolled a 12. add that to the kill count.

3: the d100 is fun to work around. alright so I am a proud American Game Facilitator, I love to run the games, I work hard for my cheeseburger and rock-and-roll disc every day, but you wanna work smarter with your friends at the table. sometimes they're gonna do some stuff that you never expected.

allllllll the time they're gonna do some stuff that you never expect and it fucking rules and is a wonderful reminder that we're all outside of each other's heads and share something familiar but you can still be surprised by people around you. but we digress.

the d100 is great for systems where you gotta give a NPC stats or info on the fly. "he's got a +5 to library use" damn that's good I guess "he's got a 50% in library use" ah damn he's trained in this shit, we're gonna have to get this fucking guy. the math is flexible more often than not.

it's also great to roll as the GM so your players can join in on the exciting and varied outcomes. we ran an Unknown Armies campaign where a mysterious and powerful enemy Adept (Naked Goddess + Sociomancer is a fun adversary to throw at your players) roll 00s to try and impress the entire crowd at a concert the PCs were running. boy howdy is it fun for PCs to watch your enemy fucking bomb so hard on stage it alienates the audience and they're not a problem anymore but making sure the audience doesn't fucking bail now is.

4: you may think How A Mechanical Resolution System Feels is not a valid thing to be obsessed about. incorrect. it's cool as hell to have excellent emotional feel of a system and to also Feel A Way about that.

you may be asking, however.

if d100 big...d1000 bigger.

incorrect. the d1000 is a bad idea unless it's to generate a comedically specific number for some reason. 100 is a more comfortable, familiar and understandable big. rolling stone can make a top 100 article. something can cost $100. 100 eggs. you can imagine these things.

rolling stone makes a top 1000 article and who gives, why 1000, that's a fucking lot, it's too arbitrary and too specific.

something costs $1000, well that's truly fucked then, jesus, a thousand dollars, that's expensive, shit.

1000 eggs?! why are there 1000 eggs! how did it all fucking FIT IN HERE. 6.94 repeating grosses?! stu a gross is 144 eggs!

you will run out of ideas before you can come up with 1000. case in point: this girl has read deadEarth. you can too. it's free out there. try and make a character in it and that's it, that's the entire game. it boasts 1000 random traits in character generation and friend it does not deliver.

1000 is too big. too cold. too impersonal. unless you're into that. then sure whatever blows your hair back.

IN CONCLUSION:

hrhghhfefjgeghghhghhg number big dice BIG GIVE US BIG NUMBER!

[caiuscassiuss]

oppa! | ot7 (I)

Description: Being raised by a caring yet distant father, a close, tight-knit family is the one thing you have craved in your short life. After your adventurer father remarries a rich woman, you’re stuck with seven new brothers. Seven very hot, very different men. This is not what you meant by family.

Arc 1: Stepbrother Introductions

Genre: OT7 x Female!Reader | Brother’s Conflict AU | stepbrother au | fluff | slice of life (For this chapter: PG 13) WC: 15k Warnings: swearing, dub-con (??). In later chapters there will be explicit mentions of depression, panic attacks, thoughts of suicide, self harm, and graphic smut.

Chapter 1: Enter the Oldest Type, Jin!

Fiddling with the charm on your phone, you looked down at the blue text bubble that spelled out the address of what might possibly be your home for the next few years.

You had googled the place as soon as you got home, expecting it to be a random apartment somewhere and boy oh boy, you were wrong. First, the house (not apartment) was on the outskirts of Seoul, on one of the hilly inclines overlooking the Han River. Second, the place where it was located was expensive.

Your eyes nearly bulged out of your head when you saw the housing prices of properties nearby on this popular real estate app. Sure, your father was a celebrity adventurer with his own cable show and so you were used to a certain amount of comfort, but this type of wealth was way beyond your league. Who was this woman that your father married, Jesus Christ?

On the Google streets view (you swear you aren’t weird), you saw the place had at least 2 gates to get through and your father hadn’t told you of any code or given you any pass to get through. You had a feeling if you tried to go in there blind, you would be immediately detained by the police.

Biting your lip, you paced on the fluffy carpet that felt like a dream. Your father was gallivanting off in some remote corner of Nigeria, so he was bound to have no cell service there. You knew no one in the family— much less how to contact them so you could meet up for a coffee or something. It would seem rude not to do something…

Your apartment doorbell buzzed throughout your apartment. Folding your arms over your chest, you shivered as you walked towards the doorway. You had turned up the Air Conditioner too high to ward off the muggy Seoul heat and now it was freezing inside your apartment.

“Hello?” you asked in to the intercom.

“Hi, is this Y/N?” a masculine voice asked at the other end.

You frowned and shifted your weight on your other leg. You don’t recall expecting any guests today.

“Excuse me?” the man asked again after you refused to respond.

“Hi, sorry, who is calling?” you said politely.

“I’m Seokjin, Seoyeon’s son. I’m your, uh, new brother?” he said haltingly, his voice raised at the end.

Gasping softly, you felt your mind pile up with questions and questions until it was spinning. How did he get here? How did you know who you are?

“Oh! Uh, yeah, please come on up.”

You pressed the button to allow the elevator to go to your location and you heard a bright “Thank you!” before the intercom shut off.

You zoomed around your apartment like a psychopath, picking up spare pieces of clothing and putting the dishes in the dishwasher. Your apartment reeked of mild depression, suppressed anxiety, and the beginnings of an unhealthy reliance on take out and that was not the first impression you wanted your newfound brother to have of you.

Putting your hands on your hips, you scanned the now clean apartment. It looked like a moderately adjusted human lived here.

Good timing indeed, as your buzzer sharply rang throughout the apartment. Taking a deep breath, you grasped the door handle and pulled it open.

Your lungs really said “Bye, sister!” and decided to quit working as soon as you saw this man. You couldn’t breath because standing in front of you was one of the most beautiful men you have ever seen in your life.

He was tall, taking up the entire doorway with his height. A dash of neatly groomed, brown hair graced the top of his small head and big eyes peered at you curiously above a strong nose and a pair of big, pouty lips the color of strawberries.

The second thing you noticed about him after his overwhelming beauty was his navy scrubs and the large badge attached to his pocket that read “Kim Seokjin; Pediatric Doctor at Seoul National University Pediatric Group”. You’ve seen people in scrubs and they were, favorably said, unflattering but on this man… he looked like he stepped out of a catalogue.

“You’re Y/N, right?”

Speechless, you nodded.

His entire face lit up with a grin. “Oh, that’s a relief. It’s fantastic to meet you, I’m Kim Seokjin. You can call me Jin though.”

Your voice decided to be nice and start working. You held out a hand and he reciprocated with a handshake. “Hi, I’m Y/N. It’s really nice to meet you. Please, do come in.”

He took off his sturdy shoes politely at the doorway and you retreated further into the hallway of your apartment.

You shivered again through your thin top and crossed your arms. God, you were going to have to raise the temperature. It felt like a fridge in here.

Jin turned around with a smile on his face before his eyes went wide. His eyes flickered down your body and quickly flickered back up to your face.

“I’m sorry if this is a bit sudden,” he started, red climbing up his neck and rising up to his cheeks. “I—” His eyes flicked down again before staying resolutely at your face, despite his very red cheeks.

Did you have a stain on your pants or something? You cast your eyes down at yourself and—

Oh.

Your very regrettable decision of turning your A/C up resulted in stiff nipples poking out from your thin top. To make matters worse, your crossed arms emphasized your breasts.

You felt yourself going red as an unflattering squeak left your mouth. Pulling a cardigan from behind the couch (there goes your good first impression), you quickly threaded your arms through the sleeves and covered your chest.

“I am so sorry—”

“It’s alright!” he said, his voice unwieldy. Jin’s eyes widened again as he realized the meaning of his words. “No! I mean— ugh,” he groaned, burying his face in his hands.

You giggled as you saw his mature composure crack in front of you. 

“I must seem like a pervert,” Jin groaned. “Here I was, hoping to come off as a cool older brother, and I just,” he shook his head. “Forgive me.”

The awkwardness defused, you laughed again, ultra conscious of your chest. “Please don’t worry about it! I had hoped to make a good first impression as well but look at me! Pulling clothing out of furniture.”

He snorted and you both started laughing, filling up your once silent apartment with sound. 

As the laughter died down, you offered him a seat on your couch. He gladly took the invitation, throwing in a joke about being on his feet all day.

“Yeah, I’m sorry to barge in all of the sudden. I didn’t have your contact information— only your address and I realized that you had no way to get to our house. So, here I am,” he grinned, eyes forming cute half crescents.

“I actually have to thank you for it,” you said, setting down a glass of water in front of him. “I was thinking of going to your house myself but I saw the security around it and I knew I’d probably get detained or something.”

“Well, it’s good that it all lined up so well,” Jin commented. “I better introduce myself, don’t I? I’m just a pediatric doctor with the SNU pediatric group and 26— the oldest of all of us. I was born in Gwacheon and moved to Seoul to attend university.”

You smiled softly, despite your unease at his use of the word “just”. “A pediatric doctor? That’s very nice. What made you want to be a doctor?”

Jin’s smile grew strained and you saw his broad shoulders tense up. 

Feeling like you wanted to hit yourself over the head, you threw out your hands in apology. “I didn’t mean to—”

He shook his head. “Please, don’t worry about it. It’s a common question. I chose this specific profession over the OR or surgery because, as a child, I knew someone who was injured a lot and I couldn’t help them at all.” He grimaced, but pasted on a very good smile. His eyes were crinkled at the edges, his head tilted upwards, but you could see through it. “Now I can, yeah?”

“I get what you mean,” you said sympathetically. You were often sick as a child too, and it was… difficult, when your father was off scampering across half the world. 

Jin straightened up in his seat and lost that faraway look in his eyes, zeroing in on you. “What about you, Y/N? You’re college-age, yeah?”

“Yes, I’m 21 and attend Yonsei University as a junior. Although it’s not as exciting as wanting to be a doctor, I want to be a counselor one day,” you told him, your eyes cast down “I want to help people.”

“That’s really admirable, Y/N. If you ever need any help getting an internship or opportunity, I know some counselors and I’d be more than happy to facilitate a meeting,” Jin smiled warmly at you.

A blush infused your cheeks. “I, ah, thank you. I actually work as an operator on Crisis hotline right now, but I’ll definitely need all the help I can get.”

“Of course! You’re my cute younger sister now.”

“I’ve never had a sibling, I’m very excited to have seven older brothers now,” you grinned.

“Yeah! About that,” he coughed awkwardly, “— are you considering moving in with us? Your father told my mother that you would be moving, but I wasn’t sure if you were completely willing?”

You nodded. “I’m considering it. I’d like to meet everyone first, however. Just to get used to your personalities.”

“Completely understandable, all seven of us can be,” he paused, “—a lot. However, if you’re up for meeting a few of us, I can take you to our house for a visit. I can drop you back and everything.”

“That’d be lovely.”

He waited patiently for you as you locked the door to your apartment, carefully watching you as you stepped into the elevator.

“Where did you park?” you asked, craning your head upwards to look at him. “I hope you weren’t forced to park on the street, it can be very expensive.”

He shook his head. “I found the visitor parking, it’s all good.”

The doctor led you through the underground parking, weaving through cars and concrete beams with ease until you stopped in front of a bright white car with a silver trident in the middle of its grill. Eyes wide, you knew what this car was. Your dad had admired Maseratis for the longest time, and this one looked to be very new.

Jin gestured to the white Maserati, looking unfairly suave in his scrubs and next to his fancy car. “Hop in.”

Next Chapter: Press [ X ] for the Mature Type, Namjoon! 

Chapter 2: Enter the Mature Type, Namjoon!

Jin was a model driver, driving carefully on the streets of Seoul. He looked both ways before crossing an intersection and took slow turns. However, it amused you how he hissed at the console as it beeped to warn him if there was a car or curb too close to him.

However, as you looked out the window, the streets got quieter and the houses a whole lot bigger as you crossed into a residential part of Seoul. You were driving parallel to the Han River, and you saw many people doing water activities or boating to cool off in the hot September weather.

Jin slowed down as you entered an avenue lined by trees and you could see a guardhouse at the end of the picturesque street. However, the two of you avoided the guardhouse completely and took what was presumably the resident’s entrance, where he passed by easily with a scan of a barcode on his tire.

“Do you drive, Y/N?” Jin asked, one elbow resting casually on his open window and the other on his lap.

“No, I never really had time to learn.” More like you never had someone to teach you.

“Okay, so we’ll just need a resident pass for you,” Jin muttered to himself, eyes focused on the street.

He drove through large, green spaces with the occasional building speckling the landscape. You gripped your purse harder. Green spaces unencumbered by large buildings blocking the view were rare in Seoul, the cost of natural land so astronomically high only wealthy business people or very famous celebrities being able to afford places like this. You gulped. Their family was definitely out of your league.

The car stopped in front of a very modern looking townhouse and the garage opened, Jin driving into what seemed to be a much more expansive parking garage under the house. However, instead of boring concrete and fluorescent lighting, sandy colored marble and warm lighting lit the space as you descended through the underground.

Biting your lip as Jin backed in his car easily with just one hand steering the wheel, defined forearms catching your attention, you mentally smacked yourself. He’s your brother, for god’s sake!

You froze up as the doors started to lift up like wings on a butterfly, but relaxed. This level of wealth would definitely take some time to get used to.

He placed a warm palm on your shoulder, his fingertips reaching your collarbones, as he guided you to the entrance, up the dimly lit stairs and to a large, wooden door.

“I wish I could’ve taken you through the front door since it’s much more impressive,” he sighed, and pushed the wooden door open with a thumbprint scanner. “However, welcome to our humble abode.”

An abode it was, but humble was it not. You were only on the ground floor, but the ceilings were very high and you were surrounded by many floor-to-ceiling windows. The main theme of the building was warm marble and dark, rich wood with jewel tones interspersed between.

“Woah,” you breathed out. “You guys have a lot of space.”

“Yeah, “ Jin grimaced. “We kind of need it when some of us like to roughhouse and tend to break things.”

You laughed as he then guided you towards a spacious living room, a large window overlooking the Han River and greenery.

“Sit tight, I’ll get us something to drink,” Jin said, his voice getting fainter as he strode to a room off the massive living room.

Ankles crossed together, you peered at the large room. At first, it looked neat. Everything was in its place and perfectly coordinated by the eye of an expert designer. However, you could see the signs the place was well-lived in. The wear-and-tear of the orange and beige blanket emblazoned with an H that was thrown over the chair of the couch, the mess of wires from various gaming consoles, and even the small depressions on the pillows. 

A shelf of colorful books framed the huge TV and you stood up, perusing them. You expected the books to be typical, non-offensive living room books with dust on the covers but to your surprise, the books on the shelves were well loved with their cracked spines and rounded edges. Tracing over your fingers over the books you whispered the titles to yourself.

Candide, Crime and Punishment, The Metamorphosis…

“I’m sorry, but who are you?”

A deep voice echoed behind you and you jumped in surprise. Whirling around you saw another tall man with neat ash blond hair, glasses neatly perched on his straight nose with a pair of fierce eyes peering out from behind the frames. His charcoal suit was well-fitted to his body and his build reminded you of a tiger; sinewous muscles cording his arms, back, and thighs and tensed, ready to jump into action.

A nervous smile crawled up your lips. “I’m Y/N L/N. Are you one of my new brothers?”

The man relaxed minutely but the fierceness of his eyes did not subside. “I am. I’m Kim Namjoon, it’s a pleasure to meet you Y/N.”

He strode across the room in long, confident strides and took your hand. His handshake was strong and you tightened your grip in response, narrowing your eyes at him. His right eyebrow quirked, but he said nothing as he turned his attention to the bookshelf.

“So, what caught your attention here?” He murmured, tenor voice traveling the length of your spine and stroking your sensitive skin. “Is it… this?”

He pulled out a copy of Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen, obviously less worn than the rest.

A smirk tugged at your lips. “No, not that one.”

He stared at you longer, before crossing his arms over his powerful chest. “Oh? Enlighten me, then.”

With nimble fingers, you pulled out a red, slim novel and handed it to him. You carefully tracked his reaction as he took it from your hands, face and eyes saying nothing. He ran a thumb over the agonized face on the cover, and you felt a shiver go down your arm at the sheer sensuousness of it.

“Clockwork Orange,” he breathed out. “Interesting. Are you a Lit Major?”

You continued to stare at the bookshelf, feeling his eyes boring holes into your face. “No, I’m not. I’m majoring in psychology.”

He hummed, eyes tracing the rough artwork of the novel’s cover. “I liked psychology, but at that point I was already double-majoring. I majored in philosophy and business, which are not as different than they seem.”

“Are you out of university, then?” you asked, trying to keep your tone casual.

Namjoon nodded affirmatively. “I’m 24, but I matriculated at SNU when I was 18. I run a conglomerate group now.”

Trying to keep your mouth from falling open in shock— what kind of twenty something year old owned a large business, much less a conglomerate— you nodded coolly.

“Given or made?” you questioned, an edge in your voice. Something about Namjoon made you want to test him, to prod at him constantly.

His fierce eyes turned to you and they blazed. 

“Made.”

Your lips lifted upwards, minutely, until you heard a clinking of glasses.

“Y/N? Sister-dearest? I got you— oh!”

Jin stopped in shock at the sight of you two seemingly huddled together in front of the book case.

“Do you two know each other?” Jin asked, absolutely bemused, as he set down a pitcher and some glasses on the coffee table.

“We don’t,” Namjoon answered. “However,” he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, “—I can see we’ll get along nicely.”

You did not get the same impression, but you digressed. He was one of your brothers now. Another factor was that one of his biceps, even though it was hidden inside his suit jacket, looked like it could strangle you.

Jin continued to stare in suspicion, before shrugging his wide shoulders and settling down on the couch.

“So what were you chatting about then?”

“A couple of books I had on the shelf. Y/N has some interesting taste,” Namjoon commented.

Jin snorted into his water with lemon. “Oh, ew, now I have two bookworms as siblings? Reading was the worst part of university. I liked all the practical stuff.”

“Sometimes I can’t believe that rational parents would let you near their kids,” Namjoon retorted, helping himself to a glass.

“And I can’t believe some women come near you,” Seokjin replied heatedly.

The two of them stared at each other seriously before breaking out in guffaws, hiding your expression behind your glass of water. This was such a weird dynamic and it was only two of them. Well, the best you could do was adapt the situation.

Just like you always had.

Next Chapter: Press [ X ] for the Rough Type, Jungkook! 

Chapter 3: Enter the Rough Type, Jungkook!

As the three of you chatted about yourselves (apparently, some of the brothers were biologically Seoyeon’s children or were adopted), Jin’s eye caught the clock behind you and his eyes widened.

“Oh dear, it’s almost 6 o’clock,” Jin fretted, leaping up from the couch. “Everyone should be arriving home soon– excuse me,” he said as he retreated into the kitchen.

“Ah, I guess that means I should get going,” you said apologetically to Namjoon, standing up and straightening your ruffled skirt.

“Please, stay for dinner,” Namjoon smiled, gesturing for you to take a seat.

“Yeah, Y/N, stay for dinner!” Jin yelled from the kitchen.

“I mean, if you’re sure…” you trailed off, hoping you could stay. You felt too lazy to cook for yourself tonight.

“Please do, we hope to see you a lot more around here,” Namjoon said, warm smiling at you.

The security system dinged, signalling a door had opened within the house. Namjoon’s ears perked up.

His eyes flew towards the doorway. “That must be Taehyung or Jungkook, coming in. They’re usually the first to arrive.”

You wondered why both of those names seemed familiar and a heavy door slammed shut.

“Jungkook-ah! Your new sister is here! Come and greet her, you punk!”

The footsteps thud to a halt at the foot of the steps and you spin around in your seat.

In the hallway, a buff man in a loose-fitting white t-shirt and grey joggers stood in front of you. In almost humorous contrast to his hulking, muscled body, the cutest face with big eyes and pouty lips you have seen peered at you.

He looked familiar to you and you bit your lip, trying to figure out where you had seen him. Oh wait! Charger guy!

“Jungkook! You’re in my Calculus class, right?”

“Yeah…” he whispered, looking at you like he saw a ghost.

“It’s so funny that you’re here. It’s nice to meet you as my brother,” you grinned at him, tilting your head to the side.

He nodded mindlessly, frozen at his spot in the hallway.

“Jungkook? Are you good?” you prodded.

Namjoon snorted as he kept on typing into his phone. “Jungkook can’t speak to girls, so he gets frozen like this from time to time. Hyung, you fix him.”

“I’m cooking, you dolt!”

“And I’m trying to earn money so I can provide the food. Go.”

Jin shot you a look, as if exclaiming “look at how I’m treated around here!”, and dusted off his hands. Striding over to a frozen Jungkook, Jin poked Jungkook’s very built chest.

Jungkook still didn’t move and Jin pursed his lips. He poked him again. “Yah! Why aren’t you working?!”

The youngest brother broke out from his trance and looked at Jin seriously. 

“No.”

“Pardon?” you asked, wondering if you misheard.

“No.” Jungkook shook his mass of black, shaggy hair and ran a tattooed hand through it, looking in disbelief at the ground. “No, no, no, no, no no.”

Your slight smile is frozen on your face and you feel your shoulders tense up and, nervously, you look to Jin.

“Jungkook—“

“Fuck!” He threw his hands in the air. Jungkook pointed a finger at you, a line creasing at his forehead. “I did not sign up for this! Fuck!” 

Spinning around, he marched back into the hall and you could see the powerful muscles in his back tense through his thin t-shirt.

“Well…”

Jin, with his hands rubbing his temples, sighed heavily and deflated at the counter. “God, I’m sorry about that Y/N. I don’t know why Jungkookie is acting like that; he’s normally really amiable and nice.”

You laugh softly, trying to defuse the awkward tension that had settled around the kitchen. “Jin-ssi, please don’t worry about it. It’s a huge shift in his life and some people are going to take it harder than others. It’ll take some time, but I’m sure he’ll get used to me being his sister.”

Namjoon scrutinized you with hooded eyes. “You’re very kind. I hope my brothers don’t take advantage of it.”

Your grin cracked a bit. “We’re family. I don’t mind.”

—————

Jungkook would not come down from his room, despite the hilarious mix of threats, blackmail, and aegyo Jin tried to coerce him down with.

You could hear Jin rapid-fire lecturing Jungkook outside Jungkook’s bedroom door and Namjoon sighed, his temples in his hands. 

“Hyung, just give up. The kid’s being moody again.”

Jin acquiesced with ill grace, throwing in a last good “You punk!” up the stairs. He stomped down the carpeted stair well, retying his apron and set to reheat many of the things.

“See if I feed him tonight, that ungrateful brat…” Jin hissed, moodily chopping some screen onions.

Namjoon leaned towards you and beckoned your ear towards his and you obeyed, curious. His scent wafted towards you, yet was not as punchy as a normal cologne. It was subtle and musky, carrying notes of old books and bergamot. Perhaps it was a lotion?

“Jin says that all the time, but will leave him leftovers anyways,” Namjoon whispered into your ear, making you unconsciously shiver. “He’s too much of a pushover.”

You snorted as Jin came out of the kitchen with a dish in hands. “Yah, what was that, Namjoon?”

“Just commenting on how good your food is, hyung,” Namjoon replied coolly and leaning away from you.

Jin glanced suspiciously at Namjoon, before setting down the dish. You gasped, immediately getting to your feet.

“Oh, I’ve been such a rude guest! Can I help in any way? Set out the dishes or something?”

The apron-clad doctor clutched his heart, and wailed, “Look! My cute dongsaeng! Finally, a member of this household that is kind and offers to do their part!” Jin’s voice got progressively louder as he directed his voice up the stairs.

You muffled your laugh with a cough, and turned to Jin again. “Jin-ssi?”

Jin shook his head, clicking his tongue as he directed you to stay in your seat. “No, sweetheart, you’re a guest. Joonie-ah, set out the plates.”

Namjoon got up to get the plates, but as he did, his phone buzzed. Namjoon’s forehead creased as he looked at whatever was on his screen.

“Hyung, Taehyung-ah won’t be here today. Apparently his shoot on Jeju is lasting over night.”

Jin sighed, bustling around the kitchen. “How about Hoseok? Yoongi? I know Chimmy is out of the country right now.”

Taehyung, Hoseok, Yoongi, Chimmy, you memorized in your head. These were the four brothers you had yet to meet.

Namjoon snorted and put down the silverware, forks and spoons tinkling brightly. “You know Yoongi— he’s like a stray cat. He’ll be here when he wants. As for Hoseok, I think he might’ve just fallen asleep at the studio.”

“I’m sorry Y/N, I wish I could’ve introduced you to our other brothers,” Jin apologized. “Now, you’re just stuck with us two grandpas.”

You shook your head. “I’m just happy I could have dinner with you guys. Thank you for inviting me over.”

Jin watched you with a fond smile and Namjoon contemplated you carefully again.

Everything was set out and the three of you dug into Jin’s delicious food.

“Jin-ssi, this is very good. Your food tastes delicious. Did you put brown sugar into the sauce? It really rounds out the taste,” you complimented.

“I haven’t heard a compliment from these ungrateful brats about my cooking for 10 years,” Jin sighed dramatically. “Such a cute dongsaeng.”

Namjoon shook his head at Jin’s immature antics. “I might as well introduce you to Jungkook, since he elected not to do it himself.”

“You seemed to know him from university, yes?” Jin asked.

Nodding, you dabbed your mouth with a napkin. “I know of him, yes. He’s in my calculus class? Although, I feel like I might’ve had him in some of my core curriculum classes.”

“Jungkook is at Yonsei for a technology degree, although at first he was reluctant to go to university,” Namjoon revealed. “He wanted to be a Pro-Gamer and streamer full-time, but Seoyeon, Hyung, and I convinced him to get a degree.”

“He chose technology because he wants to combine his passion for gaming and technology into something in the future,” Jin continued, taking a sip of his water.

“That’s a very smart move of his,” you said politely. You wondered why Namjoon referred to his mother as ‘Seoyeon’. Maybe he was one of the adopted ones?

“That brat upstairs might look like he just screams at the monitor and works out, but he’s much more,” Namjoon reflected.

———- 

When you were cleaning up, you felt bad that Jungkook hadn’t had dinner yet. That man must need like four square meals a day and tons of snacks to keep up his bulk.

“Jin-ssi, Namjoon-ssi, I’m going to deliver some food to Jungkook. He must be hungry,” you called out, scraping some of the food onto a plate.

“You don’t have too, Y/N, he usually sneaks down to get something from the fridge,” Namjoon said as he typed furiously on his phone.

“Don’t worry about it, I want to help him,” you grinned, climbing up the stairs.

Namjoon mumbled something suspiciously like, “You’re too kind for your own good” but you had already gotten to the second landing. Stopping in front of Jungkook’s door, you knocked.

“Jungkook-ssi?” you said when no one responded. “You must be a bit hungry, so I just got a plate together for you.”

Complete radio silence. 

Exhaling sharply through your nostrils, you pouted and bent down to set down the plate next to his doorway.

“Well, if you change your mind, I put it next to your door. I’ll be going now!”

You strode down the hallway, making sure your footsteps trailed off. You hid behind a corner, making sure to conceal yourself completely.

After waiting a few minutes, you were sure he wasn’t going to come out  but his door clicked open and Jungkook emerged in a grey-blue hoodie. He took a surreptitious glance around the hallway before his eyes found you behind the corner.

Blushing, you decided to wave at him. To your surprise, instead of scowling or ignoring you completely, Jungkook’s face turned tomato red as he hurriedly gathered up the plate and slammed his door.

You scratched your head. Maybe he was shy or something.

Next Chapter: Press [ X ] for the Bright Type, Hoseok! 

Chapter 5: Enter the Bright Type, Hoseok!

“So, how were your brothers? Nice? Weird? Ugly?” Hyerim pestered as you walked by the subway.

You bit your lip. “Um, really different?”

Hyerim fixed you a look.

“Okay, so I met three out of the seven yesterday. The oldest one— his name is Seokjin, but I call him Jin— is 26 and he’s a pediatric doctor. The other one—”

“Wait, Seokjin?” Your friend squinted at you. “Does he happen to work at SNU Pediatric Group?”

Blinking, you turned to her. “Yeah? How the hell did you know that?”

Hyerim let out a half strangled scream as you stepped down the stairs of the station. You were instantly surrounded by dozens of power blue ads with a purple suit-clad man in the middle, perhaps in the middle of a hip trust, all reading Happy Birthday in aesthetic cursive.

“Hoe! He’s my brother’s fucking doctor, I can’t believe this!”

Your eyebrows nearly touched your forehead. “Shit, really?”

“Yes! Holy shit, did you not listen to me complaining to you about how hot he was? And now he’s your fucking brother? The star must’ve aligned for me! This must mean the rest of the brothers are good looking!” Hyerim squealed.

“Does Jongin not exist anymore?” you asked as you both swiped your subway passes.

“Shhh, just because I’m off the market doesn’t mean I don’t get to look,” she giggled, her pony tail swishing back and forth.

You shook your head, amused at her antics, and continued.

“Anyways, the other brother I met is some fancy-schmancy businessman. Namjoon-ssi is 25? 24? He’s older than me but graduated from college when he was just 18.”

Hyerim’s eyes took on a perverted light and she simpered underneath her hand. “Oh? Am I hearing of sugar daddy material?”

You squawked and hit her shoulder. “Hyerim, stop! These are my brothers, not matches on Tinder!”

“I don’t care, you need a boyfriend— even if it’s a secret and taboo one,” Hyerim said, pushing her hair off her shoulder.

Rolling your eyes, you sat down in a seat next to her. “Anyways, the boys invited me to dinner again tonight in hopes we’ll catch more of the boys in the house. Jin-ssi says trying to get them all in one place is like waiting for a blue moon— it’s very rare.”

“So are you going straight there or going home to change?”

Shaking your head, you gestured at a laminated white pass in your hands. “I wanted to get there early today so I can go home early. Jin-ssi drove me home last night and I don’t want him to be caught in rush hour traffic again.”

Hyerim peered at the pass in your hands. “Hannam the Hill? Hey, doesn’t Han Hyo-joo live there? The actress from Brilliant Legacy?”

Shrugging your shoulders, you leaned into the hard plastic seat. “I don’t know. Probably? All I know is that the place where they live is very ritzy and takes like two security gates to get into.”

“Okay, they’re all sugar daddy material then,” Hyerim commented. She ducked to avoid a hit over the head and you huffed, crossing your arms.

“Stop, they all do pretty well for themselves and I heard my stepmother is some fancy businesswoman from a well-to-do family. They’re just my family now.”

“The train is approaching Yangwon station. I repeat the train is approaching Yangwon station,” the bright voice announced over the intercom.

“Oh, that’s my stop,” you remembered. 

“Wait, you said you met another brother. Who is he?” Hyerim asked as she patted her nose with a compact.

The train slowed to a stop and you got up.

“My other brother is Jungkook. The one from our Calculus class? The streamer?”

Smirking, you dramatically walked away and heard Hyerim’s shriek of disbelief as you stepped onto the train platform.

————— 

“I’m sorry, what?” you asked the guard in disbelief.

“I’m sorry ma’am, but your visitor pass has expired,” the security guard said calmly, eyes scanning you detachedly. Like you were another crazy female.

You were going to kill Jin. Forget his awesome jajamyeon, you’ll bitch-slap both him and Namjoon into another dimension.

“Are you sure you can’t just let me in? Like, call the house or something,” you asked desperately, hands crumpling the visitor pass.

The guard looked like he desperately wanted to roll his eyes, but he picked up his corded phone.

“Building 10, yes?” he asked boredly.

“Yes.”

He waited for the call to be picked up but after several rings, no one picked up.

“Apologies ma’am, but no one appears to be at the house. If you’re done, I’d like to ask you to leave and come back later,” the man said with an air of finality, and turned back to his station and looked at the 6 monitors surrounding his desk.

Your mouth open, you were aghast at his lack of sympathy. He could’ve at least offered for you to let you wait! It was nearing sun down and the boys had invited you to dinner again, and it would be rude to be late.

You don’t even know why they needed this much security. Sure, Namjoon was the CEO of a large conglomeration but wasn’t as high profile as Samsung’s chairman or someone crazy like that. It wasn’t like one of your brothers was a high-profile celebrity, right?

Standing on the sidewalk and looking like an idiot, you decided to call one of your damn brothers. Huffing, you flipped open your phone and selected Jin’s contact. After several rings, the call picked up.

“Y/N?”

“Hi Jin-ssi, sorry to bother you right now. I’m sure you’re busy right now,” you apologized, accidentally meeting eyes with the security guard who stared at you suspiciously.

“You’re fine! Is everything alright?” Jin asked, his voice tinged by concern.

You bit your lip as the security guard raised an eyebrow and picked up his phone, his eyes not letting go of you the entire time.

“I’m trying to get to the house, but the guard told me the visitor pass expired,” you explained, breath hitching as the guard spoke rapidly into the phone.

Jin swore over the phone, the sound muffled as he moved his phone away from his face.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N, Namjoon and I were so sure it was still active. Sit tight wherever you are, I’m texting one of the boys to get you through the gate. Hoseok is about a few minutes away from you.”

“Um, I don’t mean to rush,” you said, eyes widening as the man gestured to get out of the guardhouse, “— but I think the guard is about to detain me.”

“Goddamn security,” Jin hissed. “I’m calling the guard office right now, I am so sorry.”

He hung up and the guard continued to advance towards you, and you grasped your phone a bit tighter. The summer humidity suddenly pressed into your skin, slipped between your waistband and collar to make you sweat. Your eyes flickered to the station. No one was in the guard office to take Jin’s call so you steeled for yourself for what was about to be an ugly confrontation.

“Ma’am, I firmly ask you to leave the premises before I am forced to—”

“Y/N!”

The guard and you turned in the direction of the sound, and you saw a man in a bright yellow windbreaker and black sport shorts somehow jogging towards you in socks and sandals.

“Y/N,” he said, out of breath, as he stopped in front of you and the security guard. He held out a hand as he put his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath.

“Hoseok-nim,” the guard bowed in respect, “Do you perhaps know this young lady?”

You got a good glimpse of him as he lifted his head and tennis cap. He pulled down his white mask and you saw his pointed nose, unfairly smooth skin, and sharp chin. You sobbed inwardly. Did all of your brothers miraculously get the luckiest scratch off tickets for the genetic jackpot? The man grinned at you and nodded in affirmative at the guard.

“Yes, I do,” Hoseok said, straightening up.

“I’m sorry, the young lady did not have the proper credentials to enter. My apologies.” The guard continued, speaking to Hoseok as if you did not exist.

Hoseok’s happy expression vanished and his brows furrowed. “Please, don’t apologize to me. My sister looked frightened. My brothers and I would appreciate it if you treated her a bit more politely.”

You hadn’t even noticed how frightened you were as you felt a drop of sweat roll down your temple and the shivers stop.

“I apologize, young lady,” the security guard said, taking off his cap and bowing politely. You smiled tightly and accepted with grace, gesturing for him to get up.

“That being said, we haven’t had time to get her resident pass processed. I’d like to add her to a list of visitors so a mix-up like this will not happen again,” Hoseok said seriously, staring down the security guard underneath his tennis logo cap and eccentric outfit. It almost put a smile to your lips, to see a beefy man in a suit and tie nearly cower under a boy at least half his age and centimeters shorter than him.

“Of course. Hoseok-nim, young lady,” he bowed, and the security guard scurried towards the office.

Hoseok turned towards you and his face brightened, rounded cheeks pulled upwards. “Hi Y/N, I’m so sorry for this mess,” he said, eyes shining with regret.

“I completely understand,” you placated. “You’re… Hoseok-ssi, right?”

He beamed. “Yes, I’m Hoseok. I’m 24, the middle brother. Please, call me oppa, we’re siblings now!”

He slung an arm over your shoulder and you couldn’t help but beam along with him. His bright energy was so infectious and immediately warmed you to him, drawing you into his orbit.

“It’s nice to meet you,” you replied, smile tugging at your lips. “I’m Y/N, 21 years old.”

“I’m so excited to have a cute younger sister,” Hoseok confessed as he walked you through the streets towards the house. “I was always jealous of my friends that could take care of their younger sisters, even though they acted like they were annoyed by them.”

You grinned more brightly. “Me too. I’ve been an only child all my life and having seven new brothers is very exciting to me.”

“You might want to take that back when you’ve met all of us,” Hoseok laughed. “You’ve met Jin-hyung, Namjoon-hyung, Jungkook-ah, right?”

Nodding, you spoke, “Yes, I have. Jin-ssi and Namjoon-ssi are very nice to me, but I don’t think Jungkook-ssi liked me very much…”

Hoseok waved it away. “Don’t worry, Kookie-ah doesn’t socialize well with girls. Or people. It took him ages to warm up to us after he got back from his grandparents.”

“Kookie-ah?” you asked curiously.

“Yes,” Hoseok grinned as he turned you onto a familiar street. “It’s our nickname for our youngest. He’s too cute not to tease.” Hoseok frowned as he remembered something. “Even though he is taller than me now.”

Hoseok was pretty tall himself, and you were starting to think that if you all took a family photo one day you’d look like the dwarf in the middle. Namjoon, Jin, and Jungkook just towered over you.

“On the other note, what do you do, Y/N? I’m curious about what my younger sister does.”

“I’m a university student at Yonsei, Hoseok-ssi,” you coughed, still not comfortable calling anybody oppa. “I’m studying psychology so I can be a counselor.”

“Yonsei? So my dongsaeng is a smart nut, I see,” Hoseok teased. “Did you know Jungkook before you met him as your brother?”

You shook your head. “I saw him around, but I only knew of him. What about you, Hoseok-ssi? What do you do?”

“I’m a dancer,” Hoseok announced, the house getting closer in view. “I’m part of this dance group, Neuron. We travel to perform and compete in competitions.”

“That’s awesome!” you clapped. “You must be very persistent. I tried ballet when I was younger and it was a disaster.”

“I haven’t heard that before,” Hoseok said, looking curiously at you. “Most people have told me I must be very talented or pull girls easily. But you’re right, I worked very hard.”

“What can I say?” you shrugged. “I just see through people.”

Hoseok guided you up the front steps of the doorway, fumbling through his pants to get his key. As he unlocked the front door, you heard the rumbling of a car going through the streets.

Going at least 100 kilometers per hour, a metallic blue Lamborghini skidded to a halt in front of the house. The weird doors stretched upwards and you saw both Jin and Namjoon emerge from the car.

“Y/N? Baby? Are you alright?” Jin asked worriedly, running up the front door.

“I’m good, Jin-ssi,” you comforted but he ignored it, taking your face in your hands and tilting your head to his view.

“Aish, those damn security guards!” Jin complained, clutching you to his chest and turning to Namjoon. “It’s your fault! Why did you give her that pass! She could’ve been detained! Put into cuffs like—like a criminal!” he ended dramatically.

Namjoon looked flabbergasted. “Me? You’re the one who got it!”

As the two descended into bickering, you peered at Hoseok from in between Jin’s arms. Your eyes screamed save me!

Hoeseok helpfully pried you from the still arguing doctor’s arms.

“Sorry about that, Jin is a bit protective over all of us— he practically raised us. We call him our mom sometimes,” Hoseok revealed, getting you into the house and leaving the now huffing and puffing duo on the doorsteps.

Next Chapter: Press [ X ] for the Moody Type, Taehyung! 

Chapter 7: Enter the Moody Type, Taehyung!

As you entered the house, the faint strings of what might be a Daniel Caesar song flowed throughout the house.

“Oh goodie, Taehyung must be here!,” Jin clapped, setting down his keys on a hook near the door. 

Namjoon snorted. “He’s the only one of us that listens to this moody shit.”

Through drought and famine, natural disaster, my baby has been around for me.

A door slammed somewhere on the ground level, and the click clack of heeled boots echoed like muffled gunshots on the marble of the house.

Kingdoms have fallen, angels be calling, none of that could ever make me leave.

Turning the corner, your heart stopped.

Leaning on the wooden doorway was the most heart-breakingly beautiful man you’ve ever laid eyes upon. His dyed ash-grey hair was messy around his face, but behind his bangs peeked half-lidded eyes shaped like tear drops. A strong nose and pink lips, like the petals of a flower, were parted open as he stared through you.

“Oh? Is this our new sister?” he said softly, his gravelly voice filling the hall.

You grinned uneasily, fighting off the urge to cover yourself with a blanket or something. It wasn’t that his gaze was improper; those mercurial eyes just seemed to look through you.

“Taehyung, meet Y/N. She is our stepfather’s daughter,” Jin said carefully, eyes flicking between you like a tennis match.

It’s not fair, you thought. His clothes shouldn’t even match. The silky sleeveless tee had a paintbrush stroke across the chest and was bunched into baggy canvas pants covered in paint. It should’ve made him look like those wacky tube inflatables near car dealerships yet he looked like he walked out of a magazine.

“It’s nice to see you, Y/N,” Taehyung nearly whispered, head tilted to the side like he was evaluating a particular interesting museum installation. He made no move to shake your hand or embrace you.

“And you too, Taehyung-ssi,” you replied, bowing politely. He inclined his head.

“Well, I better get back to my red room. My pretties are coming along nicely,” Taehyung pronounced matter-a-factly, spinning sharply around to disappear into the dimly lit hall.

Namjoon face-palmed. “Well, now it sounds like he has a kinky sex dungeon. He just sees the world a bit differently than us, that’s all. It took some time for us to interpret his words when he came to us; for example, his pretties are his photographs.” The businessman looked suddenly pensieve. “Perhaps that’s why he’s so good at what he does.”

“Oh? What does Taehyung-ssi do?” you inquired, feeling like a strong breeze had swept into the room and left as suddenly as it came. You know that feeling? Where your skin tingles in the aftermath, your lips are suddenly dry, and like you could be knocked over the lightest touch.

“He’s a magazine editor, Y/N-ah,” Hoseok grins, putting down his heavy dancer bag on the couch carelessly. “It’s this really new-age, artsy magazine with a cult following. Maybe you’ve seen it? I think he named it something cryptic like ‘V’.”

“I’ll look into it, then,” you beamed, hoping to diffuse the weird tension that had settled on your shoulders.

———- 

Hoseok excused himself to take a shower and Namjoon had to take an important phone call, so it was just you and Jin left.

“Well, I know us five are at least here, and I know Jungkook is due to arrive soon from the gym. However, I don’t know if someone is going to drop by so I just leave an extra plate in the fridge just in case,” Jin said, stroking his chin.

“So, what’s on the menu today?” you asked playfully, taking a seat on the barstool.

Jin ruffled through the fridge, the fluorescent light highlighting his casual t-shirt. “Well, with what we have in the fridge, I can make some Chap-Chae and perhaps Kimchi Jjigae. However, we’d have a lot of chicken left and we need to eat it soon. Hm…”

“Jin-ssi, I know a good chicken recipe. Dakgangjeong? It’s this crispy fried chicken slathered in sweet and spicy sauce.”

The doctor frowned for a moment, leaning against the countertop.

“Is someone allergic? Or doesn’t like Chicken?” you asked worriedly, biting your lips.

Jin shook his head and chuckled. “No, everyone really likes fried chicken here. I’m just trying to remember if we have the ingredients.”

“That’s a relief, because it’s one of my favorite comfort meals.”

Opening the pantry, he bent down to look for something. “I think we do have everything here, thank goodness,” he grinned at you as he got up. “Do you cook a lot?”

“Yup, it’s my hobby,” you revealed, washing your hands at the sink. “I had to learn how to give myself food as a child.”

“Okay, awesome! You get started on the chicken and I’ll do the other dishes,” Jin said brightly, putting some ingredients on the table.

“Sounds good to me!”

You probably weren’t meant to hear it, but Jin giggled underneath his breath, “I have a sous-chef now.”

————

You put the finishing garnishes on your chicken and stepped back. The glaze looked very savory underneath the kitchen lights and dipping your finger into your glaze pot, it also tasted very good as well.

By the looks of it, Jin had finished with his two dishes. Wiping his hands with a towel, he put his hands on his hips and yelled, “Children! Get down here to eat, you punks!” 

As soon as you set down your plate of chicken, a multitude of footsteps resounded throughout the house.

Namjoon strode in first, only in a white shirt and trousers, and nodded coolly at you. The man looked very attractive out of his form-fitting workwear, and you wish your gaze hadn’t lingered on his tan, exposed skin.

Hoseok and Jungkook came in second, rough-housing with each other in the doorway before taking their seats. Hoseok greeted you brightly but Jungkook stared at you without a word before averting his gaze.

Finally, V came into the dining room in a more casual outfit of an oversized shirt and lounge pants, but still exuded an air of effortless grace. He grinned at everyone and plopped down into his chair.

“Alright everyone, eat up!” Jin fussed, setting down the steaming hot bowl and plate he was somehow carrying. You trailed after him with your dish grasped with both hands, hoping you wouldn’t accidentally trip and spill your hard work over the very expensive carpet.

You had to lean over Jungkook to place your chicken in the middle and you heard a startled “eep!” from beside you.

“Jungkook-ssi, are you alright?” You asked, sitting down in your seat next to him.

He nodded wordlessly, his ears red and gaze intensely focused on his plate. Running your eyes over him, you shrugged and grabbed your chopsticks.

The whole family dug in, loud and boisterous as people argued over which cut was better and devolved into personal attacks. Something warm curled up in your chest and warmed your cheeks, hoping to constrain the ridiculous smile that threatened to split your face. Is this how family looks like?

Watching Jungkook engage Taehyung in a very one sided conversation about the benefits of eating a certain part of the meat versus the other was very different than your empty apartment and lukewarm food.

“Wah, hyung, you’ve really outdid yourself with the chicken,” Hoseok gushed as he took a big bite of your chicken. “Please make it for us more!”

Jin chuckled, and set his chopsticks down. “I didn’t make it, so you’d have to ask her if you want more.”

Namjoon, with a strange light in his eyes, gestured to the nearly empty chicken plate with his chopsticks. “You… made this?”

Nodding in affirmative, you took a sip of your cola and cleared your throat. “Yes, I hope you guys liked it.”

Jungkook choked on his water and Jin rushed over to roughly pat his back. “Breath Jungkookie, breath!”

Hoseok yelled in delight and took out his handphone. “My cute little sister made this for me? Wow, my friends are going to be so jealous!” he grinned, snapping a few nice pictures of your glazed chicken.

Jungkook recovered at this point and was trying to fend off mother-hen Jin. “Hyung, I’m fine! I swear! You don’t have to baby me!,” he whined, cheeks red. “Besides, it was probably a bone or something.”

Your oldest brother huffed and sat back roughly into his seat, muttering something about ungrateful kids, while you tried to roll Jungkook’s comment over in your head. Bone? You used boneless chicken?

Deciding to push it away from your mind, you discreetly glanced at your cell phone and realized it was nearing 8 o’clock.

“Oh dear,” you muttered, catching the attention of the men at the table. “It’s almost 8 o’clock and I need to get home to water my plants,” you fretted.

As if on cue, a crack of thunder shook the table and you heard the rain start to hound at the windows and walls.

“Well, I be-leaf they’re getting watered,” Jin commented, cleaning up the last parts of his plate.

Staring at him in disbelief, you started to giggle and soon you were clutching your stomach with how hard you were laughing. 

“Did she like his shitty joke that much?” Jungkook whispered not so discreetly to Namjoon, who looked a bit weirded out himself.

“I’ve- I’ve never met a man with such awful jokes,” you laughed, wiping a tear from your eyes. “But I can’t help finding them so funny.”

The doctor aha-ed and pointed at Jungkook. “See? My jokes are so bad that they’re good!”

Snorting in disbelief, the youngest brother leaned back into his chair with his arms crossed over his built chest. “She’s our sister, she’s obligated to,” he murmurs sulkily. He sneaks a peek at you and you giggle at his adorable moodiness, to which he reddens and avoids your gaze.

Namjoon looked worriedly out the window, quickly turning on the news with his phone.

“— strong windstorms and rains are going to be surrounding Seoul overnight—”

“I can’t, in good conscience, let you go back home in this weather,” Namjoon stated, eyes flickering between you and the loud weather outside.

You hesitated. You were kind of worried for Mr. Ukyo, your cute succulent on the porch. “I—”

“Y/N, please,” Hoseok begged. “What kind of brothers would we be if we left you alone tonight? Stay in. We have a guest room with all the stuff you need.”

“I… okay. Thank you guys,” you smiled uneasily.

Hoseok laughed and patted your back as he got up to put his plate away.

“Sleepover…” Taehyung mumbled as he passed by you. On his way out the door, he gave you a boxy smile that tugged at something in your head.

Next Chapter: Press [ X ] for the Cool Type, Yoongi! 

Chapter 7: Enter the Cool Type, Yoongi!

“Hi, my cute dongsaeng!” announced Hoseok as he strode into your guest room. “I come bearing gifts!”

You grinned at your exuberant brother as he danced through your doorway, having a pile of stuff in his arms.

“We usually don’t have guests over, but sometimes our mother stays at the house and now we have a bunch of, uh, woman stuff,” Hoseok coughed.

“Thank you, Hoseok-ssi,” you said, moving to sort through the items.

“Call me oppa,” Hoseok whined.

Namjoon peeked through your doorway and saw Hoseok pouting at you, and instantly wacked the back of his head.

“Yah, you literally just met her today. Let her grow more comfortable with us first,” the businessman scolded, before turning to you.

“We have some t-shirts and shorts that don’t fit Jungkook anymore but please don’t tell him that we kept his childhood items,” Namjoon shook his head, a smile tugging at his lips. “I got you a toothbrush and toothpaste, plus some face products.

“You’re really kind, I feel like I’m in a hotel,” you joked, moving to plug your phone into the wall outlet. The place felt like your hotel suite suddenly got upgraded. This guest room was bigger than your entire living room and everything was so nicely decorated, you couldn’t help but gawk like a tourist at the fancy light fixtures and furniture. Maybe if you broke a vase you’d have to work in a host club...

“Ah, really? That’s nice to hear,” Namjoon said, sitting down in an armchair near the window overlooking Seoul and the Han River. He steepled his fingers together, tilting his head at you. “However, if you moved in, this room would be yours.”

Your slight smile turned slightly downwards and Hoseok, sensing the change of mood easily, turned over and whacked Namjoon over his head.

“Who’s the one going too fast now?” Hoseok retorted, before plopping down on the chair opposite of Namjoon.

“No, no, you’re fine, Namjoon-ssi,” you acknowledged. “I just… I don’t want to intrude. Plus, the amount of testosterone in this building…” you trailed off.

“Y/N-ah, we just met you but we already know you’d be a good fit with our family,” Hoseok said, smiling softly at you. “Seriously.”

“I don’t want to seem overbearing and I know you’re very independent, but the idea of you living alone worries Jin-hyung and I,” Namjoon confessed, wringing his hands and looking towards the window. “What happens if there is any emergency? Or you got sick? It’d be hard for us to take care of you.”

Tears welled up at the edge of your vision and your mouth twitched downwards. Quickly pressing a hand to your mouth, you averted your eyes from the boys.

“Y/N-ssi, what’s wrong? Are you alright?” Namjoon asked worriedly, getting up from the armchair.

You waved him away, discreetly wiping your nose. “I-I’m fine, Namjoon-ssi. Really. I’m just really emotional all the sudden, that’s all.”

“Y/N-ah, are you sure?” Hoseok piped in concern, craning his neck to see your face.

A hand thrust some tissues in front of you and you took them gratefully, dabbing at your eyes.

“I- I just…” you sucked a breath in, and turned towards the fretful pair of brothers. You suddenly beamed at them, eyes crinkling into crescents and grin splitting your cheeks despite the visible tear tracks on your cheeks. “I’ve never had someone care for me. Thank you.”

The two boys felt their heart stutter at the surprisingly vulnerable confession from the ever-polite yet distant you. They shared a look.

We’re in trouble.

———-

The house quieted down and all the lights were turned out as the rain seemed to get louder. However, despite the busy day, you tossed and turned in the very comfy cotton sheets.

Turning on your side, you watched the rain stream down your window in awe. While the window was big, a building partially blocked your view of the Han river and the Seoul skyline. You unplugged your phone from the charger on the wall and looked at the time. 1 A.M.

For some reason, you couldn’t sleep. Perhaps it was the unfamiliar environment or the dozens of thoughts crowding your head, but you couldn’t force your head to turn off despite counting hundreds of sheep.

Letting out a frustrated groan, you untangled yourself from the sheets and set your feet on the heated marble. Padding quietly to the door, you tried your best to open and close the heavy wooden door softly.

The house seemed bigger when it was not filled by the loud voices and eclectic, varied personalities of your brothers. Clutching a throw blanket over your shoulders, you made your way down the stairwell with only the city’s lights shining through the large, floor-to-ceiling windows around the house.

Flicking the low lights on in the kitchen, you searched the many cabinets for where they kept their tea packets. You finally found a jar of chamomile tea in a corner of the pantry, turning on the tea kettle and waiting for it to boil.

Leaning against the corner, your eyes got accustomed to the dark of the living room and roved over the personal effects of the brothers. There was a large picture of all seven boys on the mantle of the fireplace with their mother sitting in the middle, however, you could not see the faces of the two brothers you had not met due to the reflection in the glass.

Could you see yourself living here? With the amiable and fussy Jin, and the mature, erudite Namjoon? Wake up every morning to see the infectiously bright Hoseok at the counter and the mercurial Taehyung floating through the house like a wraith? Even go to school with your confusing classmate, Jungkook?

The kettle whistled loudly and you took it off its burner, pouring water into a cup. Flicking off the underhead lights in the kitchen, you padded towards the living room and curled up on the outrageously soft, leather couch. Blowing on your tea, you took a sip as you gazed in wonder at the rain streaming rivers over the large, bay window.

For years, the rain had been your only friend when your father traipsed the globe. It had softly knocked at your window to check if you were okay when you were sick and playfully splashed you when you were sad. The rain sang you to sleep every night when you were young and alone, afraid of the thundering din outside.

Looking at the portrait of the seven boys, you saw a new family.

Smiling into your tea cup, your mind was made up.

A loud beep rang throughout the house and a click reached your ears. Your eyes tried to look through the darkness at the basement entrance, where a figure clad in all black emerged. Feeling a momentary panic seize your heart, your fingers tightened over your mug and you tried to think straight. This was probably your other brother, Yoongi or Chimmy.

“Oh? Who are you?” A raspy voice said, shutting the door behind him. “Are you one of my brother’s girlfriends?”

Shaking your head, you got to your feet. “No, I’m your new sister, Y/N L/N.”

The figure made an affirmative noise and removed his shoes at the massive shoe closet next to the entrance. “Ah, I see. I’m Yoongi, your second oldest brother.”

A crack of thunder shook the house and a few seconds later, bright white lightning flashed through the room and illuminated you both.

In that split second, you saw pitch black hair constrained by a headband. However, what caught your attention was his eyes. Contrasted against pale skin and fierce, arched brows, were lids shaped like the outstretched wing of a bird. He stared at you lazily before they widened minutely.

“It’s nice to meet you too, Yoongi-ssi.”

“You too,” he mumbled and bowed politely, shuffling up the stairs like a gloomy specter.

You blinked a bit at how calmly he took this into stride. Christ, were your brothers fazed by anything?

—————

“Y/N-ah. Y/N-ah, wake up!”

You groggily opened your eyes to see Jin close to your face, his brows bunched together in concern.

“Y/N-ah, are you alright? You’re on the couch.”

Straightening up you could see that you, indeed, were still on the couch. You must’ve fallen asleep while watching the rain.

“Oh, yeah, I am,” you stated, rubbing your eyes and yawning. “I must’ve fallen asleep here last night.”

Jin sat across you and looked worried. “Did something happen last night? Was the guest room not comfortable? Did—”

“Oh no, nothing like that!” you tried to say. “The sound of the rain was better here.” 

He looked at you strangely but accepted it with a shrug of his shoulders. “Anyway, I’m about to make breakfast, why don’t you clean up a bit? I’ll wake up the other brothers.”

You nodded and almost stumbled trying to get off the couch, before Jin caught you with an arm. You turned your head to see his face uncomfortably close to yours.

“Careful,” he whispered, his minty breath trailing across your cheeks and his eyes roving your face.

You felt your cheeks heat up before you almost threw yourself out of his touch. “Yeah, um, thank you!” you yelled behind you before you fled to upstairs.

————

By the time you cleaned your face and put on a bra, all of the boys— in various states of consciousness— were gathered around the dining counter.

“Y/N-ah!” Hoseok said enthusiastically, obviously one of the more awake ones. He wore a pair of flowered pants that ahjummas usually wore and white, long-sleeved tee. “Yoongi came in last night, he’s our other brother.”

“We met last night, Hoseok-ah,” Yoongi mumbled into a large cup that, hilariously, was engraved with the words “Daddy-Size”. “I came home around 1 AM and saw her on the couch.”

“Oh, was everything alright?” Namjoon inquired politely, stretching his broad muscles as he yawned. Even his loungewear looked professional.

Smiling uneasily, you took a seat at the counter next to Jungkook, whose head was buried in his arm. “Yeah, couldn’t sleep and the city lights calmed me down,” you reassured.

Jungkook suddenly jerked awake next to you, alarmed eyes peeking through his messy black hair. “H-huh?”

You grinned at him. “Good morning, Jungkook-ssi.”

He mumbled a good morning in the direction of the ground before his eyes zoomed into something at your collarbone.

‘Y/N-ssi, i-is that my shirt?” he asked shyly— the first words he has directed towards you.

You looked at the oversized navy shirt, which you had tucked into the pair of denim shorts you wore yesterday. “I think? Namjoon told me it was one of your own.”

His gaze whipped to Namjoon and he started sputtering as Namjoon snickered, putting on a pair of thick-framed glasses.

Suddenly, Jin swore as he looked at his phone. “Sorry guys, but there’s an emergency at the hospital. I need to go,” he said rushedly, racing to the closest to put on a pair of tennis shoes. “Yoongi, cook for them!”

He shut the basement door with a slam and suddenly the house was silent.

“Yoongi-hyung, please,” Taehyung, who had emerged from some hallway, begged with a pout on his petal lips. His voice was extra raspy this morning.

The black-haired man grunted before hiding his face behind his coffee cup. You took that as a no.

“We’re going to starve,” Jungkook complained into Hoseok’s shoulder, who cooed and patted the muscled man cutely.

“Well, I can cook for us if you’d like? As a thank you for letting me stay over?” you said nervously. All eyes turned towards you and you gulped, not used to having all of your brothers’ attention on you.

“That’d be lovely,” Namjoon said, squinting at a novel he had produced out of nowhere.

“Aw, is our cute dongsaeng going to cook for us? I’m living the dream,” Hoseok sighed dramatically.

You snorted and got out of your seat. “I saw enough ingredients for what I want to cook, so just sit tight.”

The boys thanked you and some exited the kitchen towards the living room. You tried to remember where you saw the ingredients yesterday, but the kitchen was extremely big and had those weird cabinets where you had to push in a certain corner to open.

“Uh, where are the onions?” you asked no one in particular.

“Yoongi-hyung,” Hoseok nudged the still tired looking man. “Next to Jin, you know the kitchen the best.”

The black-haired sighed heavily and got out of his seat, leaving the “Daddy-Size cup” on the counter. He opened the fridge and bent down to a drawer you hadn’t seen. “Green onions.”

You took the bag and thanked, expecting him to leave the kitchen. “What else do you need?”

He stood there, eyes boring a hole through your face. Even as he was sleepy, he still looked like a cool older brother.

Scanning the ingredients, counting the things you had and didn’t, you turned back to him. “Um, I just need butter, tomatoes, and cheese.”

Wordlessly, he grabbed the ingredients and set it down on the counter next to you. Really expecting he’d leave, he surprised you by pulling out a chopping board and knife.

“How do you need the onions and tomatoes cut, Y/N-ssi?” he asked roughly, raspy voice causing the hair at the nape of your neck to rise. You shook your head. He’s your brother, for god’s sake!

“I need both diced, but slice some of the tomato into thin wedges for presentation,” you asked politely.

He nodded and washed both of the vegetables, before quickly and neatly dicing them with an experienced hand.

You broke the eggs and as you whisked the egg mixture with a pair of chopsticks, you decided to break the silence.

“How old are you, Yoongi-ssi?” 

He didn’t pause in his slicing. “25 years old. How about you?”

“21, but turning 22 soon.”

Yoongi hummed and started on the tomatoes. “Ah, that means you’re university age then. Are you attending university right now?”

Nodding, you grabbed some salt and pepper to add flavor to the omelette.  “Yeah, I’m actually attending Yonsei with Jungkook-ssi. What about you?”

“I’m a freelance producer,” he said carelessly, neatly scraping diced tomato onto a plate. “But I graduated from an arts college overseas in classical performance.”

It seemed like many of the brothers were artistically-inclined, you noted as you washed the spinach. But it amused you that this cool-looking brother of yours, with pierced ears and effortlessly stylish street clothes, could play a fancy-looking instrument.

Your step brother cleared his throat and he stepped back. “Is there anything else you need me to do?”

You looked at the finely chopped tomatoes and onions and shook your head. “No, that’s all. Thank you for helping out.”

He inclined his head and padded out of the kitchen, collapsing on the couch with his hoodie over his head.

Turning on the heat, you put the omelette mixture in the pan and waited for it to cook through. As you were gathering the other ingredients to put in the pan, a chin nestled itself onto your shoulder.

“Oh? What is this?” a deep, husky voice rumbled next to your ear.

You nearly jumped out of your skin when you saw Taehyung’s finely chiseled face so close to yours. Squeaking, you turned your attention back to the pan.

“Breakfast omelettes, Taehyung-ssi,” you replied a bit shakily, feeling the weight of his head on your shoulder and his breath puffing into your ear. “I hope you like it.”

Adjusting his bent over position, he wrapped his arms around your waist and buried his face into the crook of your neck. “I will, Y/N-ah. It’ll be delicious.”

Your face flamed and you willed the egg to cook faster, trying not to focus on how his large hands pressed warmly into your stomach.

“Hyung!” Jungkook exclaimed, barrelling out of nowhere. “Hyung, you can’t do that! Stop!” 

“Oh? Why not?” the editor asked monotonously, his lips moving over the sensitive skin of your neck. You stiffened and muffled a squeal, neary getting hot oil over your fingers. Your muscled classmate tried, unsuccessfully, to tug Taehyung’s arms from your body but for some reason, Taehyung’s hold on you was ironclad.

In the midst of Jungkook screaming in the background and the shouts of your other brothers, Taehyung sighed heavily and melted into your body. “I miss this,” he murmured.

Next Chapter: Press [ X ] for the Cheeky Type, Jimin! 

Chapter 8: Enter the Cheeky Type, Jimin!

Over the next few days, you slowly got used to the vibrant and varied personalities of the boys. The brothers were a rowdy bunch but they coaxed you out of your shell with unintentional hilarity and clumsy warmth. Even Jungkook, with your weird first meeting, took to accompanying you throughout school and engaging you in shy conversation. Visiting the house frequently, someone was always there to entertain you and coerce you into trying to move into the house.

However, as the days passed by, you saw neither hide nor hair of the mysterious seventh brother. None of the brothers seemed to be fazed. One day, as Namjoon drove you home, you decided to press the subject.

“Namjoon-ssi? Who is my seventh brother? I haven’t heard much of him,” you inquired shyly.

He hummed, leaning an arm casually against the window and driving between lanes with just one hand. Namjoon didn’t drive as recklessly as Jungkook, per se, but he seemed to think other cars were just nuisances on the road.

“I was wondering when you’d ask about that. Our other brother is not home a lot because he’s usually on tour,” Namjoon revealed in his deep voice. “He’s an idol.”

You gasped and looked at Namjoon in surprise. “You’re fucking with me.”

He chuckled, a chocolatey, rich sound that filled your ears and did funny things to your belly as he turned to exit the highway. “No, I’m not. Our little Chimmy is an idol.”

Taking out your phone, you opened up the web app. “Chimmy? Is that his name? Or does he have a stage name I need to find.”

Namjoon shook his head. “No, his name is Jimin. 23 years old, debuted 3 years ago.”

Smacking your head, you exclaimed, “Oh wait! I know him! I saw his birthday ads all over Seoul a few days ago. Wow, my brother is a celebrity, huh?” 

Typing his name into the search bar, millions of results popped into your browser. Gorgeous, fan-taken photos filled the image section and you clicked on one.

Wow. Jimin looked ethereal on stage, in a loose, white shirt and tight, black pants as he performed some sort of strenuous dance move. His plump lips, sharp jawline, and high cheekbones were still stunning in low quality photos. You were seriously starting to think your stepmother secretly paid for them from a lab. It really wasn’t fair that you, an average 4, were now related to solid fifteens. 

You clicked on a video with nearly 12 million views of him at a fanmeet event, his eyes crinkling and lips pulled up in a grin as he did aegyo for his adoring fans.

“He’s very popular, isn’t he?” you asked Namjoon rhetorically.

Namjoon snorted. “An understatement. We can’t go out in public with him unless he covers his hair and his entire face. He has security tailing him when we go to crowded places, it’s ridiculous.”

Something clicked in your head. “Ah!” you exclaimed. “That’s why you guys live there! And here I was, thinking you were all paranoid.”

His laugh filled the car again and you got a whiff of his musky cologne as he leaned over to adjust the air conditioner. “Yeah, even when we moved there a few years ago before Jimin’s popularity exploded, he had some crazy fans. Seoyeon, Jin, and I decided to choose Hannam Hill for their security.”

“You’re such good brothers,” you grinned at him. You swore you saw a hint of red beneath his collar as he cleared his throat.

“And we’re lucky we’re gaining such a good… sister.”

You tapped at your purse. “At least with my residence pass I won’t be detained now.”

The man next to you groaned and nearly facepalmed into the driver’s wheel.

“Do you have to remind me of this? I take it back, my sister sucks.”

——— 

Jungkook and you walked through the campus gates, finished with the Calculus class and exhausted after the test.

“Wait, shit, did I derive number eighteen right?” you fretted, your sweaty hands fiddling with your bag strap. “Oh my god now, I didn’t foil correctly!”

“Relax, Y/N, you did fine,” Jungkook snorted, no longer as painfully shy as he was when he first met you. You never did get why he had such a violent reaction to you at first, though.

“Easy for you to say, Mr. I-don’t-study-yet-I-still-get-A’s,” you huffed in annoyance, accidentally bumping shoulders with him.

He laughed and wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side. An ‘eep!’ escaped your mouth but you found you couldn’t protest as Jungkook looked down at you with the cutest, bunny smile you had seen.

“Relax, Y/N. It’s just one test.”

You sulked and crossed your arms, trying to push the heat in your cheeks away. Clearing your throat you ducked from underneath his arms. You thought you saw a flash of disappointment in Jungkook’s face, but you quickly linked arms with him so you could walk more comfortably. His eyes widened and he looked upwards, the tips of his ears a flaming red.

Ignoring several stares from your fellow university students, you walked to the campus parking lot where Jungkook had parked his car.

“Jungkook-ah? Which car did you drive today?” you asked, flushing a bit as you heard your own words. Imagine what the you from a few weeks ago would’ve said. What kind of rich bitch did you turn into?

“The silver one. The Mercedes,” he said casually but you knew he was beaming with pride. He had revealed to you, one day when driving home, that he bought this car with his streaming money and not with cash from his brothers or family. Jungkook was insanely protective of this car. 

“Gotcha.”

Throwing your bags into the backseat, he started up the car. Feeling that it was a bit hot, you decided to roll down the window. Fumbling for a hair tie in your bag, you decided that putting your hair up would be smart.

“—gry, Y/N?”

“Huh?” you asked confusion, hair tie in your mouth. 

“I just asked if you were hungry, Y/N?” he said, voice trailing off in a question as he looked up from his phone. His eyes widened at you.

“Um, not really? But if you are, I can whip us up something once we get home,” you said confidently, twisting your hair into the tie. Huh, when did you start calling it home?

“... Jungkook?”

He nervously cleared his throat as you looked at him, pulling back your hair into the tie. The tip of his ears were red and he seemed a bit flustered. Your brother fumbled with the controls, accidentally turning on the windshield wipers. Biting back a smile, you smoothed down your hair.

“Yeah, that’s fine.”

————— 

The house was silent as the two of you entered. It seemed no one was in the house today, all of your brothers very busy with their respective jobs.

“I’m going to take a shower, Y/N, “ Jungkook said as he climbed up the stairwell. 

You hummed affirmative as you threw your bag at the foot of the coffee table, collapsing into the comfy leather couch. Switching on the TV, you couldn’t find anything interesting so you settled on an entertainment channel.

“Thousands of fans crowded Incheon Airport’s International Terminal today…”

Snuggling into a sun spot on the couch, you nuzzled your face into a pillow. The warmth made you feel drowsy and you decided a quick nap was alright. Nodding off, you could hear the shower turn on upstairs.

“...as international Hallyu star Jimin arrived back in Korea …”

—————

“Oh? Who are you?”

You groggily opened your eyes to the high-pitched voice that was honey to your ears, an unconscious “huh?” coming out of your mouth. In your bleary vision, you saw lavender-blonde hair and pink, plump lips hovering above you.

The man snickered and you felt a smooth hand grasp your jaw to turn your head upwards. Your eyes focused and you swore you were still dreaming, because the face so close to yours could only be an angel’s. Ethereal eyes like a storm looked lazily down at you, his high cheekbones and narrow jaw highlighted by the warm light of golden hour.

“Are you a fan? You shouldn’t be here,” he scolded in a sing-song voice, clicking his tongue as he stroked a thumb over your chin.

You couldn’t think after being awoken from such a deep REM cycle and being near such an unearthly man, your thoughts jumbled and disjointed.

“Naughty, naughty girl,” he whispered, minty breath puffing against your face. “Well, if you’re here, I might as well make the most of it.”

With strength you hadn’t expected, he suddenly caged you into the couch— a leg between yours and the other on the floor, his hands trapping your hands above your heads. His silk shirt brushed against the exposed skin of your belly, making you shiver.

“H-hey!” you said, regaining your thoughts. “What the hell?”

He chuckled, a cruel edge to his voice as his face neared yours. “Oh, playing the innocent card are we?” His lips neared your ear and you froze, eyes wide as his plump lips brushed against your earlobe. “Don’t worry, baby girl, you’re pretty enough to pull it off.”

The man started to press a kiss at space between your ear and neck, and slowly started to trail down your sensitive neck. You inhaled sharply as his teeth and tongue prodded at your skin and he snickered, his voice vibrating against your skin. An involuntarily squeak left your lips as he bit playfully at your collarbone.

“H-Hyung?”

You both turned to see Jungkook, hair still wet from the shower, staring at you two in disbelief. His eyes were wide and his lips were opened in shock as he suddenly froze in the middle of the living room.

“Jungkookie!” the man said brightly, no trace of the breathy, seductive voice he had used to lull you into a trance. His limbs no longer trapped you as the lavender haired man sprang up and ran to the stock-still Jungkook.

“Aw, Jungkookie, I missed you,” the familiar yet still unknown man cooed as he clung to Jungkook’s broad shoulders. “It’s been so long,” he whined, lips pursed in a pout.

Still breathless from lavender boy’s attentions, you sat up on the couch and saw stars as the blood rushed to your head. Blinking to clear it away, you reached up to your neck to touch the spots where lavender boy had touched.

“Jungkook-ah?” you whispered, voice rough from lack of use. “Who’s this?”

Your classmate still stared at you in shock as lavender boy clung to him like a leech, cooing at Jungkook.

“Aw, is this your girlfriend, Jungkookie?” Angel boy said fretfully after a moment of silence. “I’m so sorry, I thought she was a fan! Forgive me!”

You cleared your throat nervously, righting your disheveled clothes and messy hair. “Look, I have no idea who the hell you are, but I am not Jungkook’s girlfriend nor your fan and either way, you should not be— be assaulting unsuspecting girls who just wanted to nap!”

“Who the hell am I?” Lavender boy retorted rudely, no longer seductive or cutesy as his eyes narrowed at you. “I live here, wench!”

“Well I’m about to, fool!” you sneered, crossing your arms.

“Jungkook-ie, call security as I deal with this clearly crazy lady!” The still unknown boy huffed, advancing towards you.

Jungkook finally got out of his trance and grabbed Jimin by the shoulder. “Jimin-Hyung, stop! Haven’t we talked about her in the groupchat a lot? She’s our new sister!”

Jimin froze and his eyebrows lifted minutely, whirling around to look at Jungkook. “Wait, what? We have a sister now?”

He looked at you differently, eyes scanning your figure disinterestedly. “Did Seoyeon—” he spat out the name like it was stale gum in his mouth, “—find another baby we didn’t know about? Another poor bastard like me?”

You got whiplash with how much he changed moods and started to inch away. Well, it seemed like your step brother was nothing like how he portrayed himself in the videos you had seen online about him. A frown pushed at your lips.

Jungkook pinched the bridge of his nose. “No, hyung, mom got married again to Y/N’s father. She’s our new step sister now.”

Jimin stayed silent before he turned to you again, his eyes mocking. A shit-eating smirk crawled up his lips. “Well, sister dearest, welcome to the family!”

Arc: Character Introductions Ended. Press [ X ] to continue?

A/N: If you’ve watched BroCon and you’re curious to who each person is based on, here’s the guide:

Jin (Doctor) = A mixture of Uyko and Masaomi

Namjoon (Businessman) = Natsume

Jungkook (Gamer/ Uni Student) = Yusuke

Hoseok (Dancer) = Himself lol he was supposed to be Subaru but i didn’t want to make him super angsty. Don’t worry, in this story he’ll be more than just his stage persona :)))

Taehyung (Magazine editor) = Louis

Yoongi (Producer) = mixture of Yuusuke’s tsundere-ness and Iori’s calmness

Jimin (Idol) = Fuuto with a bit of Tsubaki’s personality

Anyways, if you enjoyed it, please comment and reblog!!! I appreciate any feedback you may have, whether it be a sentence or a whole dang paragraph— I love it all :))) Please, if you’re doing okay, please help me pay for school through my Ko-Fi (link in my profile).

Arc II: Decisions and Settling In will be released in a month!! Comment if you’d like to be tagged :))

[thran-duils]

Doll Me Up (P.5)

Title: Doll Me Up (Part Five) Summary: Fem!Reader x Dark Mob!Tony Stark. On good days, you and Tony were a power couple. You, a perfect trophy wife with your hands in local charities to promote a wholesome image. Tony, business man but sullied with organized crime. He indulged in his illegal gambling, extortion, and political corruption. And he indulged in his escort business. Hell, that is where he had found you. You were a brat, and he loved a challenge. Words: 3,059 Warnings: Unhealthy relationships, smut, daddy kink, dom/sub, manipulation, death, violence, possessive behavior Author’s Note: I’m not sure if this is the last part but I’m leaning towards it.

Part Four || Part Six || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

Five and a half months ago…

Tony blinked against the sun as they left the news station. Y/N had facilitated a project, along with others, to bring seniors more fresh produce in their Meals on Wheels local program. She was excited about the project and Tony honestly could not give two shits about it but if it made her happy, he was happy to be there with her. He loved seeing the joyous smile on her face and her enthusiasm talking about it.

His hand was wrapped tightly around her waist as they walked out towards his car. And his smile only faltered when he spotted a familiar face in the crowd across the street. And a face he did not want to be seeing in public like this. And they were staring directly at him, like they had been waiting for him.

Tony turned to Y/N and whispered in her ear, “I need to go to the restroom.”

“We were just inside,” she jested. “Why didn’t you go then?”

“I didn’t have to go then. Here.” He opened the door for her, letting her get in. “I’ll be right back.”

To Happy, he whispered, “Fabian.”

“What do you want me to do?” Happy asked quietly, keeping his sights on Tony and not being obvious.

“Stay here with Y/N. I’ll be right back.”

“Boss—”

“He’s not going to lay a finger on me.” Tony said and Happy looked at him disbelieving. Tony was being overconfident about it and he knew it but he could not accept lowlifes trying to approach him in public like this. “Stay here with her. I’ll be back.”

Tony walked away from the car, moving back down the sidewalk. He spotted Fabian moving through it and he smirked to himself. He walked past the news station doors, and down the immediate alley.

He was waiting when Fabian entered the alley, standing dead center, hands in his pockets. If looks could smite, Fabian would have burned on the spot. “What makes you think you can come up to me in public?”

“You haven’t been returning my calls I’ve been leaving!”

“Yeah and for good reason. You’re unhinged!”

“That wasn’t my—"

Tony stepped closer, spitting, “You listen closely, Fabian, I am done with you and your bullshit! You are done. Do you get that? You had your chance and you fucked up. And I cannot be seen in public with you. You know that though. You squeal to anyone and you won’t just have me after you, you’ll have the whole city gunning for you with how many people are tied to it and you will. not. win. If you ever come up to me in public again – especially when I’m out with my wife – I will kill you on the spot.”

Tony straightened out his jacket before storming away from the man who was staring at him slack jacked. Tony did not give him a moment to respond before he was around him and striding back down the alley.

When he got into the car, Y/N was none the wiser.

She was immediately back into conversation, talking about what good this interview was going to do for the project and thanking him for coming along with her. Tony smiled sweetly, listening intently. His adoration for her wove deeply. He truly had recovered a true gem from the rabble.

<><><>

You stared at the door in bewilderment before touching it again. F.R.I.D.A.Y. repeated, “You are not authorized to open this door, Mrs. Stark.”

“Excuse me?” you word vomited.

“Do you need me to repeat the message, Mrs. Stark?”

You hated how calm F.R.I.D.A.Y. sounded.

“Override,” you tried.

“You do not have authorization to do that, Mrs. Stark.”

“Why can’t I go outside?”

“Mr. Stark blocked access at this door.”

You let out a frustrated noise before turning away from the door. You walked to the bedroom door, feeling the ache but you had to know. You walked down the stairs, taking them slowly. You went to the closest patio door, gripping the handle tightly.

“You are not authorized to open this door, Mrs. Stark.”

Breathing heavily through your nose, trying to keep yourself calm, you turned your head eyeing the next patio door.

Her voice was becoming quickly annoying. “You’re not authorized to open this door, Mrs. Stark.”

You took off around the mansion, trying all the doors leading to the outside but you got the same code when it read your fingerprint. You made your way to the front door, the door to the garage, out to the garden. It was all the same message. Your chest was rising and falling rapidly, it sinking in that you were locked inside.

The thought of the kitchen door out to the pool came to you and you moved as quickly as you could there. You stalled seeing Happy standing in there, cutting an apple. He stilled seeing you and you did not miss the sly look he gave you as you moved through the kitchen, past the island where he was standing.

The same goddamn message.

You whipped around and stared at Happy.

“Let me out!” you demanded.

“I can’t override what the boss has inputted into the security system. You know that,” Happy said in passive tone, looking completely indifferent to how worked up you were.

“Where is he?”

“He left earlier.”

“Well, did he happen to mention to you why he was locking me inside?” you exasperated, throwing your hands out at your sides.

Happy sucked at his teeth, leveling you with a serious look. “Y/N, do you really need to be asking me that? Truly?”

You bit your cheeks to avoid shouting at him and forced yourself to turn on your heel and storm out of the room away from him. You made your way back up the stairs, going for your bedroom where your cell was waiting on the bedside table. Snatching it off the table, you pressed Tony’s name.

“Yes, kitten?” he answered calmly.

“Your stupid AI won’t let me out!” you exclaimed.

“Yeah, I programmed that this morning.”

“You…,” you started to argue but then your voice went up a notch, trying to whine. “Daddy, you can’t keep me locked in here!”

“Can’t or shouldn’t? Because it looks like I’m already doing it, so I apparently can,” Tony replied coolly.

“You shouldn’t then!” You added for good measure quickly, “Please!”

Tony’s tone was firm when he told you, “I think I very well should. You crossed a lot of lines and I am not fucking around when I tell you that they were lines that shouldn’t be crossed. You brought this on yourself, Y/N. Maybe if you spent less time throwing tantrums and more time listening to me, you wouldn’t have found yourself here. And hopefully you won’t again. I certainly hope you won’t again. I know you can do better.”

You were quiet, biting back tears. You thought you would be cuddling this morning, everything slowly falling back to normal.

He heard you sniffle and the sound of it elicited a soft sigh from him. “Princess, you can earn my trust back. I’m a reasonable man.”

“I said I was sorry,” you said tearfully.

“Oh, I know you did. And it was heartfelt. And you did so very well last night. I was impressed by you. Truly, baby. But I need to be sure you understand how serious I am that I don’t want you to repeat that. Ever.”

You asked weakly, “When are you coming back?”

“Tonight. I won’t leave you for long. And I’m going to bring you something. But you need to just sit tight. Be good for Happy.”

You did not answer because you were staring out the window, grinding your teeth.

“Princess?”

His voice snapped you back to reality and you got out, “I’ll be good.”

“That’s what I like to hear. By the way, I set up an appointment for you today, last minute. It’s a virtual meeting. Happy knows about it, he’ll help you. OB/GYN. F.R.I.D.A.Y will scan you, the baby, send it to her and she’ll correspond.”

“She’ll correspond with… F.R.I.D.A.Y?” you asked slowly.

“Just this one time. I promise we have a real appointment next week. I’ll be at every one after this and we will do it in person. Cross my heart.”

Your voice was small, “Okay.”

“I’ll see you later. Be good.”

“I will, daddy.”

He hung up and you pulled the phone away from your ear, staring down at it. He was acting weird. He acknowledged what had happened but moved so seamlessly into baby talk and appointments.

How were you going to relax knowing you were stuck in here?

<><><>

Five months ago…

The art show was boring and even more so for the afterpart of it. You had no desire to speak to anyone about it and they were all gathered in the large center room drinking wine and having finger foods. You had excused yourself to go to the bathroom and you removed your underwear, tossing them into the trash bin before leaving to find Tony,

Tony was speaking to someone, sitting on a set of small chairs. The sight of you caught his attention and you put your finger to your lips. He only spared you a second’s confused look before looking back at the man. But his gaze found you again quickly, curiosity getting the better of him. Over the man’s shoulder, hidden from the rest of the room by the large plant, you opened the slit in your dress, showing Tony you were not wearing any underwear. He began to smile and hid it by his hand came to his mouth, it balling into a fist as he stared daggers at you. You gave him a wide, tantalizing grin, beginning to walk backwards towards the doorway to the adjacent hallway.

You left him sitting on the couch, dropping your dress. The hallway was empty, and you walked slowly down it, taking in the art.

It did not take long for you to hear footsteps behind you, and you looked over your shoulder finding a very hot and bothered Tony coming down towards you. He wasted no time pushing you into the corner at the turn in the hall, his hands snaking up your dress. You turned your head, giving a throaty laugh.

“Listen here… if you wanna come, you better look at me,” Tony husked.

“There’s people—”

“You started it.”

You nipped at his nose and he buried his face into your neck in return. He resumed pressing you into the wall, his fingers slipping in to work you up.

<><><>

Three months ago…

People were outside in the pool, drunk in the summer sun. You though, you were inside, sitting against the wall, pouting. Some of your old escort friends had shown up per request for the guests attending and told you they were planning a trip to Vancouver to do some shopping and ‘go out on the town’ in a few weekends. You had been excited about the prospect, you had not been out like that for a long time. When you had left the group though and leaned over Tony’s shoulder at the poker game to tell him about it, he had waved you off.

“You’re not going,” had been his exact words.

Instead of going back to the girls, you had gone inside, not wanting to tell them the bad news. At the inside bar, you had taken a couple of shots and made sure Tony saw you walk by the window. You tossed him a glare as you passed. Him and his stupid open shirt over his dumb swim trunks – that you had specifically picked out earlier this week when you were shopping – could get fucked right now for all you cared.

It was not too long before Tony appeared in front of you, peering down at you, looking ever piqued. He was not happy you were sulking.

“You know, you’re really bringing down my mood, princess. Glaring at me like that because I had the audacity to deny you one thing out of millions.”

“Then stop looking at me,” you retorted, avoiding his eyes, still staring off out towards the pool party.

You heard him scoff and he said, “Don’t even try to throw a tantrum right now.”

“I’m not. I’m just sitting here.”

“Looking like I killed your fucking dog.”

You merely shrugged aggressively in response.

He gestured out towards the patio doors. “You know they’re only going to get in trouble up there. And I don’t want you to get wrapped up in it.”

“So, you don’t trust me to be faithful,” you said finally making eye contact with him.

Tony held up a finger to you and corrected firmly, “That’s not what I said.”

“That’s exactly what you’re saying!” you exclaimed, throwing your hands down beside you on the bench. “You don’t trust me!”

“Don’t try to make this into something that it’s not. I don’t trust them to keep you out of trouble,” Tony retorted. “You know how they are! You were – are – friends with them for fucks sake!” You opened your mouth to argue and he cut you off. “No, I’m done with this conversation. You know what I meant. I’m sorry that you are upset but there’s a reason I’m saying no to it. Now, either shape up and come back outside or go upstairs if you’re going to just glower at me.”

Clenching your jaw, you stood up angrily and stormed off away from him towards the upstairs.

You decided on a whim to leave, grabbing a swim suit cover and throwing some sandals on. Downstairs you ran into one of Tony’s guys and you stopped because of the way he was staring at you. You had wanted to leave without anyone noticing but seemed like that was not going to be the case.

His eyes ran over you, taking you in. “You alright?” he asked curiously, his eyes narrowing.

“Yeah, peachy. Have fun with your dumb poker game,” you spat at him before turning and walking to the front door.

You got into the car, turning it on angrily. You knew you should not be driving but you just did not want to be at home anymore. And Cassandra’s was not too far away, only twenty five minutes or so. You took off down the driveway, actually smirking of the look on his face when F.R.I.D.A.Y informed Tony you had left whenever he decided to check in on you. That should be awhile because he had been on a winning roll.

<><><>

He did not announce himself and you only realized he was home because F.R.I.D.A.Y came over the speaker in the living room informing you, “Dinner is ready in the kitchen.”

When you walked into the kitchen, he was a complete 180 from the night before. He walked up, giving you a kiss on the forehead, asking then sincerely, “How was your day?”

“Fine…” you said, trailing off, giving him a curious look at his nonchalant demeanor.

He brushed it off, grasping your hand and began to lead you to your plate he had set up on the island next to one for him. “That’s good, kitten. Here. I hope you’re hungry.” He immediately paused and said under his breath, “Fuck. Hold on.”

Tony walked off to the pantry and your eyes wandered to the counter. You looked down at the plate and saw it was the dish from your favorite date night restaurant. He did that on purpose, you thought immediately. To remind you he remembered things you liked. To get you something that you did like. It was like an apology, extending an olive branch. This is how he knew how to apologize, with gifts.

You waited patiently until he came back with a long lighter. He smiled at you, lighting the small candle on the counter in between your plates. “Just like at the restaurant.”

A smile tugged at the corner of your mouth at the small touch.

“Sorry, it’s just sparkling cider,” he told you, gesturing at the glass in front of your plate. He held up his bourbon and took a swift drink.

“It’s fine, thanks,” you said, picking up your fork and taking a bite. You savored the taste, chewing slowly.

Silence fell over the table and the two of you ate, both staring down at your plates as you ate. There was something hanging in the air between you and you just wanted to know what.

You got your answer soon enough. Tony’s sigh was heavy as he dropped his fork to his plate. “You know… I do have to apologize.”

That caught your attention.

“I hate doing it. You know I do,” he said, giving a little nervous laugh. “Admitting I’m wrong. Goes against everything in my genes. But… I could—should have done better with aftercare. The bath was bare minimum. I know you need more. We talked about it. And I… I lost my temper. And that’s not fair of me when I’m in the position I am in.”

He had your rapt attention, you tracking his every word. What he said was not untrue – you two had had a conversation about aftercare, especially when it came to punishments. He seemed genuine in his apology.

Tony made eye contact with you, grasping your hand. “In the future, especially during your pregnancy—” He cut off. “And I looked at the report. Everything seems to be okay?” You nodded and he nodded in return, “Good. Good… I need to be more careful. I need to do better. So… I’m sorry.”

You chewed your lip, taking what he said in. He was waiting for you to respond, to say anything, his eyes desperately searching yours.

“I accept your apology,” you told him.

Tony was pleased, his frame relaxing immediately at your forgiveness. Your hand was brought to his lips for a quick kiss. “You’re good. So good.” He stepped closer, and his free hand came to the side of your face, looking into your eyes deeply. “So, after dinner… maybe I can lotion you down?”

“The raspberry shea?”

“Yes, of course. Whatever you want.”

Three words he always said but did not seem to follow through on.

~~~

Forever tags: @coconutqueen21

Fic tags: @kvzctam, @farihafangirls, @teenageregression, @mrsnegan25

[ceescedasticity]

notes on the aftermath, vii

(you might want to check out the other parts first)

(and/or read what’s on AO3)

Málawen Calariel:

After the funerals I didn't want to talk to — anyone, actually, so I went back to the city recovery crews, finding bodies in odd places and moving them out into the street where, hopefully, their kin or friends would come and claim them. We didn't have any kind of system to facilitate that, but I hadn't come up with any good ideas for one.

A while after that, Atta called me back to the mansions for a council. I assumed at first it would be about funeral scheduling and how to distribute that information, or maybe someone even figured out how to improve body claiming, but it wasn't.

It was in the Purple Room on the third floor, the same as the last family council, if you ignored how there were half the number of people there should have been. (That one had been just after the death of the Trees. I hadn't said a word the whole time, just sat and wondered if I was doing any good being there.) Duimiwen carried Atta and his chair in.

Grandfather Olwë wasn't there, oddly. Grandmother Nénwen explained that Eärwen had an… update, from Arafinwë, which we needed to talk about.

(Yes, she was very angry with him for not turning back earlier, and wouldn't see him in person for a hundred years. Yes, they were still in frequent communication by ósanwë despite this, for all that time. No, none of the family blamed her for this. If nothing else, we were hardly going to say no to someone keeping us updated on what the Noldor were doing!)

Aunt Eärwen told us all that Arafinwë had turned back, and a lot of his people, but none of her children. She told us about the Doom, word-for-word.

There was a long silence. And then we had a debate.

Duimiwen Elulindiel:

Of course we couldn't get to the important point immediately. First Luinél had to ask if Lord Mandos really hadn't mentioned the swan-ships at all, even as a lower priority. Then Grandmother said the deaths hadn't been highest priority either, apparently, that had been Fëanáro's Oath — what was in that Oath? Aunt Eärwen didn't know, hadn't been there for it — it named the One; it was about the Silmarils; her children had agreed it couldn't possibly be literal because Fëanáro was too clever/selfish/both to be so self-destructive; the literal meaning had been dire enough her children had just talked around it; she guessed the Valar thought/knew it was literal?

Then for some reason Nettë went back to the matter of the ships, asking if fencing Valinor meant that if the Noldor tried to return the ships when they were done with them they wouldn't be able to. No one knew. It seemed so unlikely to come up I don't think anyone cared, either, except probably Luinél.

Then Calarue finally brought up the real question: What exactly had Lord Mandos meant by 'unrighteously'?

That is, were any of us potentially on the hook for unrighteous slaying?

The discussion went on for a while, touching on the definition of self-defense, and the armor/drownings, and whether brutality or vengefulness was likely to be a consideration, and whether the Valar would care since we weren't rebelling, but they shouldn't care about the Noldor killing us only because the Noldor are rebelling, but this, but that, but blah blah blah.

Some of the others— Seriously, I can't—

Oh, no, Calarue stabbed the specific man who killed his wife in front of him, technically while still held prisoner. Horrifying.

Luinél drowned some people without even realizing it. Gasp.

And Nettë, oh, Nettë gave advice to people who would have been throwing things or shooting no matter what, and didn't stop people from making bad choices. Shocking. Unforgivable. Nettë could fuck off.

Come talk to me when a Vanya has looked at the bloody evidence of your work and declared it proof of the Noldor's corruption by Melkor.

[pastpatientlywaitingforimagines]

Starlight | Spencer Reid x Reader Platonic

WC: 1410

A/N: This is for @wesleeporstudy who requested a Found Family!Hotch x Reader fic! I intended for this to be a drabble but I was having too much fun and got a little carried away... enjoy!

GALAXY MASTERLIST (not needed to understand the plot but there’s similar content here if you liked this fic!)

“Are you sure you can’t come with me?” Spencer didn’t have to clarify his question for you to know he felt better about speaking at conferences when you were there. You were standing toe to toe in front of your car at the airport parking lot, dropping him off for his flight. Everything about his body language showed hesitation, including the way he was clutching his go bag.

You felt bad, truly. You wanted to go with him, but you had an obligation in Virginia that you couldn’t reschedule. “I have some things I have to take care of here. You know I’d only miss one of your lectures for something extra important.”

The corners of Spencer’s lips turned down at your answer, though you both knew you were right, “and you still won’t tell me what it is?”

“If I did, you wouldn’t go to your conference. Don’t worry about it though. You’re going to knock the socks off of those criminology professors,” you reached up to brush a piece of lint off of his jacket lapel, “you should go before you miss your flight.”

“Actually, based on the number of departing flights today and the amount of foot traffic in the airport, it takes approximately 45 minutes to get through security at this time of day, and another ten to find the assigned gate. I could stand out here with you for another thirty minutes before I’m late enough to miss my flight.”

“Spencer,” you chided, “go get on your plane, I’ll be here when you get back. Do you want me to pick you up?”

Spencer nodded eagerly, “could you?”

“Of course. Now go!” You put your hands on his shoulders and turned him to face the entrance of the airport. You watched him walk through the sliding doors, then got back into your car. Spencer would be ok on his own, you reminded yourself as you drove to the nearest grocery store. You had to pick up a few more things before continuing on to your final destination, including a birthday cake and some sports themed napkins.

Hotch seemed relieved to see you when he opened his apartment door.

“Here, let me help you with that,” he offered, reaching out to take some of the many items you had managed to balance in your arms.

“Thanks, where’s the birthday boy?” you asked, following him inside. Before Hotch could answer, your legs were attacked in a hug from Jack.

“Hi (y/n),” he chirped, looking up at you with a toothy grin.

“Are you ready…” you asked him slowly, then quickly changed your tone, “for the best birthday party ever!?”

“YES!” Jack screamed, matching your excitement level.

“Oh phew,” you dramatized, wiping imaginary sweat off of your forehead, “can you help me and your dad put up some decorations? They should be in that blue bag over there.” Jack scrambled over to the bag, pulling out the various decor items you had purchased. He helped Hotch put up streamers and banners while you put out tablecloths and bowls of snacks. You also set up a gift table, putting the wrapped box you brought in the center.

Just as you finished setting up, the first of Jack’s friends started to arrive. You left talking to the kids’ parents up to Hotch, instead entertaining the herd of second graders with a game of Twister. After Twister you facilitated a game of freeze dance, then took a break for pizza, cake, and presents. You then produced a box of small Nerf guns, told an elaborate story about how you stole a priceless gem, and tasked the group of tiny FBI agents to hunt you down after giving you a thirty second head start.

“You’re very good at this,” Hotch tried to look nonchalant leaning against the counter as to not give away your hiding spot next to him. You adjusted your makeshift helmet, a colander that you had found in a cabinet, before answering in a whisper.

“My cousin has a whole crew of small children. I used to stay with them during school breaks,” you paused to peek over the countertop, quickly locating the kids strategizing in Jack’s room, “I’ve run my fair share of birthday parties, and done twice as much babysitting.”

“Well, thank you for taking time out of your weekend to help out here.”

“Anytime, Hotch, really. I’ve seen how stressed out you’ve been lately. Our job isn’t easy and I can’t even imagine how much harder it is while also being a single parent.” You had offered to help out with Jack’s birthday party after catching Hotch still in his office at 2 a.m. trying to plan it a few weeks ago. It was the least you could do after Hotch denied your request to take some of his paperwork instead. You glanced over the counter again, a foam bullet whizzing by your ear. “My position’s been compromised, gotta go!”

You dramatically rolled into the kitchen, firing back some more bullets before getting hit by the entire firing squad of eight year old assailants. Out of the corner of your eye you noticed Hotch laughing at your exaggerated performance. It made you happy seeing him smile, it wasn’t something you saw from your Unit Chief often.

“Ahhhhhhh you got me!! I still have one trick up my sleeve though… a partner! Super villain Hotchner, take the gem and my gun!” you slid the “gem” and your Nerf gun across the linoleum floor towards Hotch’s feet before pretending to die. Hotch picked up the items and ran towards his office, the kids chasing after him. You took the opportunity to eat a slice of pizza and drink some soda, effectively refueling yourself for the rest of the party.

You helped Hotch clean up after all of the kids went home. Jack attached himself to your legs once again right before you were about to leave.

“What do we say to (y/n) for helping out with your party?” Hotch asked his son.

“Thank you,” Jack recited, tightening his grip on you.

“You’re very welcome, my friend,” you ruffled his hair, “will you help out with my birthday party this year?” Jack’s eyes lit up and he immediately started spurting different party themes that you could have, which included trains, superheroes, and cowboys.

“Those are all very good ideas, we have a few months so we can think on it, ok?”

“Thanks again for your help, this wouldn’t have been successful without you,” Hotch handed you a tupperware of leftover cake.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, you’re the coolest Dad ever. Like I said though, anytime. Jack is like the little brother I never had, I would do anything for this kid.” You meant it, too. Jack was just as much a part of your found family as anyone else on the team.

“See you Monday, (y/n).”

“See you Monday, boss,” you repeated, finally heading out the door and to your car.

On Monday morning you found yourself back in the airport parking lot, sitting on the hood of your car eating the last of the leftover cake. When Spencer exited the building and spotted you, his pace quickened.

“How was your conference?” you asked, sliding off of your car and getting inside once he reached your vehicle.

“It went really well, there was a fantastic talk on the link between victimization and offending that you would have liked- wait, is that cake?” Spencer stopped mid-ramble when he noticed the dish in your hands.

“It sure is,” you turned to put the container in the backseat.

“Where did you get cake?”

“Jack’s birthday party,” you shrugged, starting the drive towards work.

“Jack’s birthday isn’t until next week though.”

“Brian Trevino’s birthday party is next weekend even though his birthday isn’t for another two weeks,” you explained. Spencer’s eyes narrowed as he thought about what you had just said.

“Who is Brian Trevino?” He finally asked.

“A kid in Jack’s class, that’s why Jack had to have his birthday party this weekend, because they would have invited the same kids.”

“I didn’t realize you were so invested in the drama of the second grade.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Spencer Reid.”

“Actually, I know most things about you.”

“Oh yeah? Like what?”

“Like the fact that you’ve had blue frosting on your face for the last five minutes.”

Galaxy Taglist: @kermitsaysgayrights @niallthedancingharry @shadyladyperfection @thatsonezesty13 @lexshead @ceeellewrites @howdycharlie @girlycakepops @fantastic-fans @canimarrypizzaornah @daisyflower138 @dyingrexx @taylormobley @bazzleslynn @tj-drinks-tea @willa-wonky @eddiesbifocals @itsafreakingtouque @tee-mbrown @reniescarlett

[acklesforlife]

Happy Birthday Danneel Ackles!

It’s Danneel Ackles’ birthday, so we thought for our continuing celebration of Supernatural Spring Break week, this was a good time to both wish her a happy birthday and share the rather amusing story of one of our first times meeting her.

There have been a few memorable times since, including the party celebrating ‘Supernatural Day’ in Austin with Mayor Adler, which was just plain fun and an opportunity for some real conversation.

And I’ll be forever touched that Danneel wanted a copy of Family Don’t End With Blood (and how incredulous she was that Jensen actually had a chapter in it!) and that she has read our other books too.

The actual first time we met Danneel was a long time ago – at the after party following the premiere of indie movie Ten Inch Hero, which was at a club in LA back in, I think 2008. We all left the premiere and walked over to the club, invited by director David Mackay – the cast and the audience all together.

We had a lovely little chat with Danneel there about the film, met screenwriter Betsy Morris who’s still a friend today, and asked actor Matt Barr (now of Walker) to watch the rest room door while I in desperation used the men’s room because there was a huge line at the women’s. (He was lovely about it and it makes me laugh now every time I see him as Hoyt).

It was a momentous party, what can I say?  After that, my co-author Kathy and I interviewed David over a three hour brunch in Vancouver for the first book we were working on, and mentioned that we’d love to chat with Danneel  too. To be honest, we didn’t really think that would happen. But a few months later, while we were in LA for the Supernatural convention, we got a call from David.

I’ll let some excerpts from our second book, Fangasm! Supernatural Fangirls, take it from here…

… he let us know that Danneel Harris had actually agreed to an interview too. This prompted some hyperventilating and a rush of euphoria that left us grinning like fools. Jensen Ackles’s girlfriend was going to meet with us? Really? David had given Lynn’s cell phone number to Danneel so that she could call us tomorrow, the same day the boys came back to town. SWEET.

Given the pattern of the weekend so far—great things happening and then going horribly wrong—we should have known what was coming.

[On the Sunday of the convention, while everyone was in a fever pitch of excitement over Jared and Jensen being there] Lynn was obsessively checking her phone. “Noooo!!” she gasped. It was the plaintive moan of a beast in distress.

Kathy assumed that Lynn was passing a gallstone from the sound of it.

“No reception!” Lynn said, wide-eyed.

For Kathy, who hates phones (really, what doesn’t Kathy hate?) this didn’t seem like a big deal. The world really is too connected anyway. An hour out of cell phone reception seemed like a welcome respite, an opportunity just to enjoy the moment.

Lynn wasn’t as philosophical. “What if Danneel calls?”

Kathy honestly didn’t hold out much hope that this would actually happen—a yellow on the threat scale at most—so she wasn’t concerned.

Lynn was taking up her slack by flailing around, banging buttons on her phone as if somehow this would jolt it into action. “How can there be no cell phone reception in LA??”

Lynn had a point. We’re reasonably certain that there is cell phone reception in the Arctic Circle, but there was not a bar to be had in a hotel in LA. LA!! The town where everyone’s people are calling everyone else’s people, where iPhones are accessorized to coordinate with the day’s outfits, where a missed call can ruin a career. Jared and Jensen distracted Lynn for the duration of their time onstage, but as soon as it was over Lynn made a bee line for Jared’s girlfriend, Sandy (the woman sitting in front, wearing a hoodie so no one would recognize her—except Lynn apparently). Lynn wildly explained our dilemma to the stunned and probably scared actress. It was a good thing the Men With No Necks (MWNN) were only being paid to guard “the boys” or Lynn would have been face down on the carpet.

While Lynn was doing this, Kathy was pretending that she did not know Lynn.

Sandy was sympathetic, but didn’t know if she’d even see Danneel. Lynn thanked her for the sympathy and moved on to the next person who might be able to help. She attempted to enlist convention photographer Lizz, to no avail, and finally Creation owner Adam.

“I’ll try Lynn,” he said, sounding slightly exasperated. “But I’m kinda running an entire convention here.”

Thwarted again, Lynn pulled out all the stops. During her Jensen photo op, she stopped everything to explain the situation to Jensen himself.

“Hi, Jensen,” Lynn said, hoping that her voice wasn’t sounding too shaky. “We have an interview set up with Danneel today for the book we’re writing on fandom, and she’s supposed to call us, but I don’t have any reception on my phone, so I’m afraid she won’t be able to.”

The photo-op process screeched to a halt, and the room fell silent. Photo ops, you see, are not a place for conversation. They are highly valued by fans, who pay top dollar for the privilege of standing next to a celebrity, and they are relentlessly organized. The entire experience lasts about twenty seconds, and during that time you’re expected to say hello to the celebrity, smile, perhaps get an arm around your back or lean into said celebrity’s very firm bicep, and then move the hell out of the way and let the next person crowd in for the next picture. The photo ops allow no room for deviation. So when deviation happens, no one is very happy. The photographer wasn’t happy. The other fans weren’t happy. And the MWNN looked ready to move into swift and potentially lethal action.

Not that any of this stopped Lynn. “Can you put us in touch with her?” she continued, oblivious to the threatening stares all around her.

“Oh right, the interview,” Jensen said.

Lynn just nodded, though inside she was stuck on “OMG Jensen knows about our interview and our book, ohmygodohmygod.”

“Maybe she can email you,” Jensen continued. Then the conversation abruptly ended as Lynn was grabbed unceremoniously by the back of the neck and “escorted” from the photo-op room. Uh oh. She hadn’t experienced that feeling since being a two-year-old caught trying to get away with her baby brother’s coveted teddy bear. Lynn was most definitely in trouble—and even worse, she’d made no progress in getting in touch with Danneel, who didn’t even have our email address!

Lynn, ever the intrepid researcher, was not deterred. She thanked the Man with No Neck for his assistance and got right back in line for her next photo op, the “sandwich” photo (as in sandwiched between Jared and Jensen, which is vaguely dirty and thus very popular). As Lynn walked up, Jensen immediately tried to continue their conversation.

“So do you want to . . .” he began, while Jared looked confused. After all, the celebrities know the no talking rule as well as the fans.

Lynn held up a hand defensively. “Shh, I’m not talking to you. I totally got in trouble for it before,” she added, as the MWNN hovered threateningly.

Jensen laughed. “I got in trouble too,” he protested.

We doubt the MWNN were involved.

“Can Danneel get us her email?” Lynn managed as she was once again “encouraged” to leave the room as quickly as possible.

There was no time for an answer. Damn. Thwarted again. We were disappointed, but Lynn was relieved that she wasn’t escorted out of the entire con (the specter of the Flying Fangirl from Asylum still looms large at these events after all). We were still feeling like an interview with Danneel had been too good to be true anyway, so we tried to swallow our sadness and settled in to watch some of the other guests. Midway through the next panel, Lizz the photographer came out into the audience and passed us a note—from Danneel. It just said, “Send me an email, love danneel” and included her email address. Being a bit clueless about the popularity of smartphones in 2008, we figured this meant that she wanted us to get in touch with her later for an email interview. We were disappointed that we wouldn’t get to talk to her in person but incredibly excited that she’d given us her email address. We wandered back outside after the panel and tried not to be too miserable about the Danneel interview not happening that day. We were hanging out in the hallway chatting when photographer Lizz suddenly appeared and yanked us away in the middle of a sentence with an exasperated, “Come with me!” She led us down a small side hall.

We still weren’t entirely sure what was going on. Were we in trouble again? Had the MWNN decided to kick us out after all? Moments later, Danneel emerged from the side door, introducing herself with a smile. Somehow we managed to compose ourselves and smile back. Apparently Jensen had facilitated the interview after all! Danneel suggested that we all grab some coffee, so we headed upstairs to the hotel’s Starbucks, where Danneel insisted on treating.

Coffee in hand, we went back downstairs to start the interview. Danneel suggested that we go backstage to talk, and then came a weirdly symbolic moment. The very same Man with No Neck who had tossed Lynn unceremoniously out of the photo op for daring to speak to the talent now held back the curtain to the backstage area, solicitously helped Danneel and us step over the various wires and cables snaking across the floor, then closed the curtain behind us to seal our crossover. The irony wasn’t lost on us.

Kathy whipped out her trusty voice recorder just as she had done for every other interview we’ve conducted, turned it on, and . . . nothing. We were interviewing Jensen Ackles’s girlfriend and there was NOTHING. It wasn’t the batteries, which had been checked and rechecked. Kathy tried to maintain some semblance of professionalism. She would quietly figure out what was wrong and then she would just as quietly fix it. Deep breaths. Okay, the recorder was FULL. Not to worry. She excused herself, leaving a confused Lynn to entertain Danneel.

First the cell phone, now the voice recorder. Sunday turned out to be the day technology failed us. This, for Lynn, is an everyday occurrence. For Kathy not so much. She loves technology. She embraced the Internet years before it got pretty, she used a “portable” PC to write her doctoral dissertation (portability is of course a relative designation—relative to muscle mass and stamina), and she gets gleeful over the prospect of using every new toy her university has to offer. So yes, technology was her friend. Until it wasn’t.

While Kathy dashed upstairs to grab her laptop (wishing that she could grab a shot of tequila), Lynn attempted to keep up a conversation with Danneel without actually asking any of our carefully prepared interview questions. Without a recorder, there was no way she’d remember a damn thing that was said—so that left small talk as the only option. Luckily, Danneel and Lynn connected over their mutual love of writing, swapped college stories, and then Lynn (as always) managed to talk about her children. Danneel proved herself a great listener. Minutes went by—lots of them—and Lynn realized to her horror that Jensen and Jared were almost done with their autographs. After that, it was off to the airport—and we would lose our interviewee to her boyfriend as she left with Ackles. Where was Kathy???

Finally, shortly before Lynn had moved on to telling Danneel about her daughter’s first steps, Kathy returned and hurriedly tried to download everything onto the laptop while time quickly ran out. Come on!! All Kathy could focus on was how long it was taking for everything to download. That and the rising nausea that threatened to overtake her. Lynn, in desperation, started asking the interview questions (which, since they weren’t recorded, are lost to posterity—and to this book).

Suddenly Jared Padalecki walked by, meaning that autographs were over and people were getting ready to leave. We despaired of a recorded interview, heartbroken over the squandered opportunity. And then, quite unexpectedly, Jensen Ackles was standing there, smiling and saying hello. Even more improbably, he held a fluffy white dog in his arms. For a moment, Kathy was sure this was all part of the nightmare, because fandom at the time had no clue that Jensen even owned a dog. Icarus, however, was quite real—and quite fluffy. Icarus was almost as excited to see Jensen as we were—he’d apparently been whining backstage every time he heard his owner’s voice during the Q&A. We hugged Icarus while Jensen hugged Danneel and tried to talk her into riding with him to the airport. All Kathy heard in those words were that it was too late—she’d blown it.

Danneel, however, had other ideas. She blew Jensen off. No wait. This part can’t really be happening either. More of that dream? Kathy was contemplating poking herself with a sharp object, sticking her finger in a wall socket, anything to jar herself back into reality. This was surely just her own anxiety-ridden psyche toying with her. Must be. Who says goodbye to Jensen Ackles so that she can talk to US?? But Danneel really was excusing herself to say good-bye to Jensen, Icarus happily following, with assurances to us that she’d be right back to finish the interview. Kathy gathered together the few shreds of sanity she still had, sorted the problem, and figured out how to record directly onto the laptop.

Danneel returned, true to her word, and the interview finally began. We relocated to the “green room,” the cloistered room where the guests are confined between stage appearances. The green room, as we were well aware, is a private space—more or less a “No Fans Allowed” clubhouse for the celebrities. We immediately felt like imposters, occupying a space where we clearly shouldn’t be. The room offered a small banquet of food, a bit of which we gratefully sampled, and a table stacked full of fans’ gifts for “the boys.” The coolest of these was a hairdryer that looked exactly like Dean Winchester’s favorite gun—and yes, it actually worked!

Danneel, of course, was quite comfortable in the green room and turned out to be very good at making us comfortable as well. Lynn asked questions. Danneel answered. Kathy breathed. Everything was going to work out just fine. Somewhere the unicorns of fandom were neighing happily.

And then the laptop went dead.

Kathy again tried to be unobtrusive as she flailed around trying to find an outlet. No point in making a bigger fool of herself, right? Sooner or later, though, it became apparent that she was in need of assistance and everyone, including Danneel, was up and scouting for an outlet, crawling under tables and moving furniture to do so. Danneel, we decided, had the patience of a saint. She never lost her sense of humor either, shrugging off our apology for keeping her from accompanying Jensen to the airport by wryly noting that “Jared would have been in the limo anyway, it’s not like we could have made out on the way to the airport” and jumping up to knock on wood when we asked her about the possibility of marriage.

In the midst of all the sitcom mishaps we did manage to carry on an interview…

You can read the rest of our misadventures (and the interview itself) with Danneel in the book, but Kathy and I left that day with a respect and affection for Danneel that has never faded.

Jensen posted a photo of her plunging a clogged toilet today for her birthday, and I laughed because it makes it clear that she’s still as genuine as she was that day she got down on the floor and crawled around looking for an outlet right along with us.

I’ve had the opportunity to chat with Danneel several times since our hilarious interview, and I think most people who have run into her at the brewery would say this too – she’s not afraid to be real.

I’m so glad Danneel was able to be part of Supernatural as a cast member before it ended, but really she’s always been part of the SPN Family. Happy birthday, Danneel – thanks for keeping it real!

–Lynn

Source: [x]

[bedbellyandbeyond]

Unexpected Visitor

(Story Post)

“Oh. Hello.” Nathan came home to a bit of a surprise. After coming home from a meeting with Korsgaard, he opened the door to find Jeffrey in his kitchen eating a bowl of cereal. He looked up and smiled to Nathan. “Oh, hey! What’s up?” Jeffrey asked. “What’s up to you first. What are…you doing here?” Nathan asked. Jeffrey shrugged. “Ya know, just hanging out with Wano.” “Ah.” Nathan felt a chill. “And where is Wano?” “I think he just finished up in the shower,” Jeffrey said. “Water stopped running.” “…How long have you been here?” “Hm, I got here… Maybe at noon-ish?” Jeffrey answered. Nathan just went quiet. He carried the twins in with him and set them down in the living room play pen before going and calling up the stairs. “Wano?” The Eclulan called back from the bathroom. “Yeah?” “I’m home! Can you come down please?” “‘Kay.” “Make sure you’re wearing clothes!” “‘Kay!”

Nathan went and grabbed some water from the fridge while he waited. He watched Jeffrey intently, but the young man just kept eating his cereal, oblivious to Nathan’s stare. Wano came down with boxers and a T-shirt on, with a towel around his neck. “Welcome home.” “Uh, yeah, thanks. Um, so Jeffrey’s here,” Nathan said. Wano looked at Jeffrey, who waved to him, and then looked back to Nathan. “Yes.” “What is he doing here?” Nathan asked. “He asked if he could come over,” Wano said. “I said yes.” Nathan blinked. “And you didn’t think to ask me, maybe?” Wano tilted his head. “Why?” “Uh…” Nathan motioned around. “Because it’s my house?” Wano frowned. “Are you mad? I don’t understand. Jeffrey is a friend to us, no?” “He… He is, but it’s still my house,” Nathan said. “I’d like to know when other people are in my house when I’m not here. You need to ask me first.” “It’s okay, Nathan. I’m heading out anyway,” Jeffrey said, after drinking his cereal milk. It left him with a milkstache. “Ollie’ll probably claim Ben as his own if I don’t get back soon…” He got up and made his way to the door to get his shoes on, but Wano intercepted him. “You have milk on your lip,” Wano stated. “Oh?” Jeffrey smiled and leaned into him, puckering his lips. “Can you get it off for me?” “Um, okay.” Wano took a finger and wiped the milk from Jeffrey’s face then wiped his hand on his own shirt. “There, you are clean.” Jeffrey chuckled and then moved on to get his shoes. “You’re so silly…” Nathan was just watching them, completely frozen. Wano waited and watched as Jeffrey finished getting ready to leave. “You will text me when you are home?” “Yeah, ‘course,” Jeffrey said, grinning. He straightened up and took Wano’s cheeks, pulling him down into a quick kiss. “I’ll see you soon, handsome.” Nathan was screaming internally. “Do you want to walk me to the bus stop?” Jeffrey asked. “Sure,” Wano said, without a second thought. “No!” Nathan cut in. Then he managed his volume. “Sorry, no. Wano can’t go too far from the house. The bus stop is too far.” “Ah. Right…” Wano angrily kicked his leg out with the ankle bracelet. “Aw, okay.” Jeffrey smiled and waved. “I’m off, then. Bye!” “Bye,” Wano said. Jeffrey walked out and Wano waited at the door until Jeffrey turned the corner towards the bus. Nathan sat down at the kitchen counter with his arms crossed. “Could you close the door, please?” Wano did as told and then wandered over. “You look angry in your face. Was your meeting bad?” “No.” Nathan straightened up. “So, you and Jeffrey are serious now?” “Serious about what?” Wano asked. “You’re in a relationship,” Nathan said. He remembered he had to be plain with the Eclulan. “Wano, did you have sex with Jeffrey today in my house?” Wano shrugged. “Yes.” Nathan groaned. “Seriously?! At least tell me you’re using protection…” “Protection? From who?” Wano asked. “Not Jeffrey. I am much stronger than him.” “No, condoms! Contraceptives!” Nathan said. “Safe sex!” “I don’t understand any of that,” Wano asked. “Are you kidding—did you put anything on your penis to protect yourselves from illness or pregnancy?” Nathan tried one more time. “No. None of that makes sense,” Wano asked. “Why would we do that?” “Um, maybe so that you don’t get a sexually transmitted illness and you don’t get pregnant!” Nathan exclaimed. Wano shrugged. “But I cannot get your human diseases and I cannot get pregnant.” “But Jeffrey can!” Nathan said. “Yes, is that not the point of sex?” Wano asked. “Not the diseases, but to reproduce?” Nathan wanted to shout but he held it in and just turned around to try and calm down. Wano frowned. “I have not seen you so angry before… Do you need food? Are you hungry?” “No, Wano,” Nathan gripped his kitchen counter with white knuckles. “…I am trying so hard to figure out a way for you to realise why what you’re doing with Jeffrey right now is wrong.” “I don’t understand. Do you not like Jeffrey?” Wano asked. “I thought you were friends.” “I…” Nathan grit his teeth. “I like Jeffrey. We are…group friends. But, Jeffrey is immature and what you two are doing right now is so blind of the consequences. You’re about to be deported off the planet!” “I am very aware of that,” Wano said, defensively. Nathan turned back around. “Then why are you trying to make a baby?!” “It is because I am leaving that I want to,” Wano said. “My planet is dangerous… I might not come back. I would like Jeffrey to carry my legacy so my life was not without meaning.” Nathan wrinkled his nose. It sounded noble in a way but still rubbed him the wrong way. “Wano, that is probably the most selfish thing I have ever heard in my life.” Wano was taken aback. “What? Why?” “Legacy? Are you kidding me?” Nathan said. “If you expect to die, the last thing you should do is try to leave behind a fatherless child!” “They would not be fatherless, they would have Jeffrey,” Wano said. “Unless you are trying to say Jeffrey is a mother, but I learned that's not very ‘progressive’ or something.” Nathan growled in frustration. “You know what I meant! Creating a child just to walk out on them is so irresponsible! You need to give me a much better reason than that! But there isn't one because that's bullshit!” Wano frowned. “You don't understand… I want to be a father. This could be my last chance.” “Wano, you're deportation is only two months away,” Nathan said. “Even if you did get Jeffrey pregnant right now, you won't be here when they're born. And return applications can take a long time. You might not be able to even see the baby for a few years. You'd be more of a sperm donor than a father.” Wano shook his head. “You think that. I don't care what you think.” Nathan had enough. “Whether you see it that way or not, I'm not going to facilitate this in my home. You can't have Jeffrey over here anymore. You didn't have permission in the first place.” Wano stepped right up to Nathan and loomed over him. “What are you going to do? You can't stop me.” Nathan wasn't going to take this. He straightened up and growled, glaring down at Wano. When he tried to speak though, he could only emit a loud thunderous snarl. Wano immediately backed off and looked genuinely scared. “Nathan?” Nathan realised suddenly that something was wrong. Wano had a couple inches on him. It shouldn't have been possible for him to look down on the Eclulan and yet there he stood looming a good foot over the frightened alien. The twins in their pen nearby had both turned, Grace starting to howl and Gabriel letting out little bear cries as well. “The wolf…” Wano emitted. “Nathan, you're big…” Nathan looked at his own hands and saw the fur grown straight out all over, and his claws curled out longer than he'd ever seen. Panicked, he turned about looking for something reflective. He found a new pot and looked into the polished surface. In his reflection he didn't recognise himself. His hair had grown over his face, his ears had elongated past his head with fur all over and all his teeth had pointed. He was looking into the face of the wolf for the first time. Wano was doing his best not to cower in fear. He kept eye contact with Nathan while he tried to figure out what to do. “Nathan… Are you okay? I am…sorry…” Nathan didn't want to scare Wano but any time he talked it just came out as growls and snarls. He waved his hands to try and communicate for Wano not to worry and then he pointed to his phone on the counter which he couldn’t pick up himself now without scratching or crushing. “You want me to call?” Wano asked. “Dax? APID? The doctor?” Nathan just nodded. Any of them would do so long as they could help. “I'll call Dax.” Wano picked up the phone and dialled. In the meantime, Nathan tried sitting so he could calm down. He yipped uncomfortable as sitting initially cause him some pain. He realised he suddenly had a tail and he'd sat right down on it. Trying again, he leaned forward and sat down without crushing anything. It didn't make sense. It was daytime, he was still part man, and he was conscious. Nothing like this had ever happened before and he was scared. He put his face in his hands and took deep breaths, just trying to calm down. After a few minutes, Wano put down the phone and came around the kitchen counter to where Nathan sat. He looked him over and then touched his shoulder. “Nathan? Are you okay?” Nathan tensed up at Wano's touch but when he pulled his hands from his face, they were normal again. Or rather, relatively normal, he still had his permanent claws but they were back down to a manageable size, same as his canine teeth. He touched his face and felt the smooth hairless skin. He heaved a sigh and looked up to his friend. ��Wano…” The Eclulan smiled. “You are alright. You are not wolf.” “I don't know what happened...” Nathan was shaking and he couldn't help tearing up. “What was that?” “Dax called the doctors to see you,” Wano informed him. “I am sorry… If I did not anger you…” Nathan shook his head. “No, I…” He tried to steady his breathing. “There's a monster in me…” Wano could tell words weren't helping his friend at all but he didn't want to see him like this. He got down on his knees and pulled him into a hug. Nathan shuddered and wrapped his arms around Wano's torso. He just wanted to calm down and get back to normal. “You are nice guy, not monster,” Wano said gently. “Thanks…” Nathan managed. The twins were still exchanging animal cries and Nathan started getting up to check on them. “Nathan, no. Just relax,” Wano said. “I'll take care of them. You rest.” Nathan sighed but agreed. “Okay, I... Maybe I'll take a shower...” “Yes, sounds good,” Wano encouraged. Nathan did so and went upstairs to shower. The sensation of the water running over him helped him feel more attached to his body, something transformation often disconnected for him. He thought he'd always wanted to be conscious as the wolf, not to lose all control, and yet this sudden transformation had made him feel betrayed. He wondered what Syd or even Korsgaard would have to say about it. He only imagined they'd want to recreate it. APID would want it studied. But he had no idea how it happened or what triggered it. He didn't want to think it was his emotions because the idea of being irate and becoming a dangerous monster scared him the most. The last thing he wanted was to endanger his friends and family. He just wanted to forget it happened at all.

[foundthe8wing]

Okay, doing this over here because my main tumblr is usually a place for me to vibe and I don’t want all the bullshit tied to that account, but basically: I’m really angry and disappointed with the dndads cast for how they’ve put a lot of the minors in their fanbase in danger. Everything below is a repost from twitter (with permission from the OP, crypticjoy), and I’ll link the thread in a reblog. 

Under a cut because it’s long and potentially triggering (content warnings for grooming, sexualizing minors, and sexual assault)

[OP tagged the relevant cast accounts; I added slashes here bc I’m not sure if those same urls exist on tumblr and I don’t want to be randomly tagging people over here]

5:49 PM Sep 5, 2020

“I don’t usually do this, but: the way that the cast of @/dungeonsanddads engages with their audience is actively dangerous to minors, and they need to get it together. (cw for discussion of grooming, sexualizing minors, sexual assault)

First off, there are some iffy jokes and situations in the podcast itself. I’m not going to get into all of it right here, but have a google doc: [doc will also be linked in reblog]

Yes, the kids in #dndads are fictional, but that doesn’t mean this stuff doesn’t affect real kids listening. a. it normalizes talking/joking about kids in that way and b. There’s a lot of inconsistancy and confusion on the lines they draw--

Paeden saying “baby” is weird but Ron sitting in Terry Jr’s lap isn’t? I’m confused. You know who the fuck relies on that type of confusion and unclarity? Fucking predators

And I’m not saying every in-character decision has to be perfectly moral or acceptable, but the way the cast, out of character, discuss what’s weird and what’s not sends a lot of mixed messages. And that’s legitimately dangerous.

So then you take all of this, and you add a patron discord server that lets nsfw discussions run virtually unchecked--you create a fandom space that allows adults to discuss kinks, and porn searches, and just, all this other stuff, with teenagers...

... and it becomes a breeding ground for grooming and abuse.

The creators aren’t responsible for babysitting their fanbase or for how people engage with their content outside of their spaces (though, again, I’d urge them to be very careful about what kind of messages they’re sending)

But  they ARE responsible for taking basic steps to keep the spaces that THEY create and engage with safe.

“But the rules for the server say 18+!” The rules say you have to be 18 *or have parental permission.* They also say to keep things PG-13. That’s vastly different than establishing something as an adult-only/nsfw space.

“Minors shouldn’t be joining/listening anyway!” The cast can’t control who listens and neither can I, but there’s a difference between knowing teens are listening to you discuss sex with your adult friends vs facilitating conversations between teens and adults on those topics.

“If people are uncomfortable they can just leave.” First off, this situation isn’t just uncomfortable, it’s unSAFE. Second: fuck that. It’s not on minors to set and maintain boundaries about this stuff; a lot of them literally do not know how

Not because they’re stupid, but because they’re young and inexperienced. It’s the responsibility of adults to set and enforce healthy boundaries around sexual discussions, and this particular group of adults has done a fucking terrible job

(Maybe don’t encourage listeners to DM you about kinks! Maybe especially don’t do that when you’ve communicated, intentionally or not, that making and escalating sexual jokes is a really good way to get a reaction from you guys)

I get that they didn’t expect to have so many young listeners, but to be aware of that fact and make no adjustments whatsoever is irresponsible and it WILL lead to someone getting hurt. Does their “young, thirsty, female” audience only exist to them when they can laugh about it?

And let’s be absolutely 1000% clear: this isn’t an issue they’re unaware of. The stuff I’m talking about is an ongoing problem with how their server is run, but it came to a head with one specific situation very recently:

They released a bonus, patron-exclusive episode about the dads taking the bdsm test. Given the general state of the server, I was worried about where those discussions might lead, so before it dropped, I reached out to @/anthony_burch to express my concern

He told me he raised the issue with @/fwong and Ashley, meaning at least three members of the dndads team were aware of the situation, and decided it didn’t warrant any type of preemptive action on their part

(alternatively, it means Anthony lied, which would be a whole separate issue)

[Image ID: a discord DM conversation from Sep 1, 2020, between a crossed out username and reverendanthony. It reads: 

OP: heyyyyy have you guys considered that releasing an episode focused on the bdsm test is almost inevitably going to lead to a bunch of 15 year olds sharing their results in your server because you might want to get ahead of that before someone gets hurt

reverendanthony: oh holy shit, really good idea

OP: thanks, I know it's easy to veer into that territory just because of the nature of your show but I wanted to bring it to your attention because I figured you don't want to create a situation that's like, actively dangerous (and for the record I'm willing to discuss what I think would make it safer but I'm also not going to assume you want/need my input, obviously you can handle it however you see fit)

reverendanthony: No, thank you for bring it up, I really appreciate it -- I just raised the issue with Freddie and Ashley

OP: Good to know, thank you /End ID]

I’m not overreacting. I have seen this shit happen, to my friends and to myself, and watching the dndads cast take absolutely no meaningful action to prevent situations like that from occurring directly under their noses makes me fucking livid

I can guarantee that the #dungeonsanddaddies fanbase includes both predators and survivors of abuse, grooming, etc (including those currently living through it), and I need them to think very, very hard about which group they’re prioritizing.

And I need that choice to be evident through more than just their words, because it doesn’t fucking matter how much you “really appreciate” that I brought up my concerns if you do fuck-all to address them.

It doesn’t matter how many times you say the word “consent” if apparently everyone was okay that “Darryl gets sexually assaulted” was almost a plot point played for laughs.

(His dare from Scam  would have been rape, straight up. Just because no one said the word doesn’t mean it wasn’t coercive and gross).

I’d like to think the @/dungeonsanddads cast isn’t intentionally encouraging abuse, but they’re sure as hell enabling it, and they needed to get their shit together ages ago, because they’re not the ones their negligence hurts.”

Quote retweet by OP 6:51 PM Sep 7, 2020

“So, they updated the rules for the patron server, but I want to be really clear that from my perspective, it’s way too little, way too late. 

The new rules don’t adequately address the core issues and they certainly don’t absolve the cast of the harm they’ve already caused. 

[Tweet includes 2 screenshots: one of a bot asking people to click thumbs up to confirm they’re 18+ (or have a parent’s permission) and agree to the rules, and one that includes two of the rules. It reads: 

“This is an 18+ space. Them’s the rules: per Patreon’s policy, you must be 18+ or have parental permission.

Use language as if you’re at your parents dinner table. Don’t get people in trouble because of your SPICY POSTS. Keep conversation polite. NSFW content is not allowed!”]

(and before anyone says I should bring up my concerns privately, a quick refresher on how well that went last time I did it:) 

[links back to the “(alternatively, it means Anthony lied . . .)” tweet from the original thread]

So hey, @/fwong, some thoughts:

1.The rules are vague and unclear: what /exactly/ do you mean when you say “NSFW content is not allowed!” when the content of your show itself is so often nsfw? And how are you planning to enforce this?

Does it mean you’ll shut down the MBIC conversation that is literally just kink discussion? I need you to be clear on where the line is, because, again, predators rely on that confusion. Don’t give them a gray area to play in. 

For an example of a more clear policy, it’s pretty easy to say, “yep, ‘Henry gets pegged’ sure is a sentence we said on our show and you don’t have to pretend it’s not, but if you’d like to discuss it in any more detail at all, you need to move”

2. Remember how I said I needed to be clear on whether you’re prioritizing survivors or predators? While I doubt it was intentional, the language you’re using here is prioritizing predators.

It’s not “don’t get people in trouble,” it’s “don’t make people uncomfortable.” It’s “we all have a responsibility to make sure this space is safe for everyone, especially the younger members of the community.”

You’re setting people up to be afraid of expressing concerns for fear of “getting people in trouble” or “inciting unnecessary drama.” Even if it’s not what YOU meant, it’s very easy for those words to be manipulated, so +

You absolutely have to be explicitly clear that if someone expresses their discomfort, you’ve got their back. Being safe is more important than being polite. 

3. I need every cast member to take responsibility for their own actions. I’ve gotten no indication from any of you that you understand the ways in which the in-show things I brought up were harmful.

Acknowledging that harm is important not just because of the immediate effects of that content, but also because it implicitly sets an example for how similar complaints should be dealt with going forward.

When someone says “hey, I was uncomfortable that you seem fine with the Glennary ship, because she reads as very young to me,” I don’t need a dissertation on how the perception of characters can evolve due to your improvisational nature

I need to hear “oh, I interpreted her differently, but you’re right, we should have been more clear, and I’m sorry for making you uncomfortable.” Because your responses to your own mistakes set the tone for any other situations like that going forward.

How comfortable is someone going to be with coming to you, or Ash, or any of the mods about someone making them uncomfortable if they’ve seen that when people call YOU out, they’re argued with and shut down?

Don’t tell people you’ve “made it clear that you won’t go there” when they tell you that you ARE there. Listen to them and do better. 

Set the expectation that people will be respected when they raise their concerns. “If you want to come at me you have to bring the heat” is not an appropriate response on a subject that made people genuinely uncomfortable. 

In essence: set people up to be supported and protected, not dismissed. 

[It’s like a matriosche of tweets over here. This one links to another thread, also by crypticjoy. That thread reads:

A non-comprehensive guide to keeping discord servers safe for minors:

1. Make designated channels for nsfw/18+ discussion. Generally speaking, this is a lot more effective than banning those discussions altogether, because it’s a lot easier to say “hey, can you move this conversation?” than “hey, I need you to stop”

In fandom spaces, it’s usually a good idea to have separate channels for talking about nsfw fiction vs discussing your personal sex lives.

2. Give everyone minor/adult roles; make sure your 18+ channels are locked to people who don’t have an adult role. It’s important that there’s more of a barrier there than just checking a box.

3. NSFW channels shouldn’t necessarily be a free-for-all; be aware of people’s boundaries and respect them (for example, r*pe jokes aren’t funny or okay, even if you’re not making them around kids)

4. Explicitly state in your rules that people should feel free to come to mods if anyone is making them uncomfortable. Actually listen to people and resolve the situation if they do approach you.

5. Make it clear that creepy behavior via DMs or other means is also not tolerated--you can’t control what people do outside your server, but you can make the choice to not allow people like that in your space

6. Make sure mods are on top of things BEFORE people have to say anything; sometimes being a mod means being willing to be the “asshole” who shuts things down before they get out of hand, even if they’re not asked.

Be generally aware of signals that people are uncomfortable or that things are escalating too far, and address those situations sooner rather than later.

*It should be noted that safety involves a lot of components beyond just containing nsfw discussions; this thread just happens to be focused on that one specific element.

oh also! It's a good idea to provide resources on grooming so people know what to look out for [links to some resources; again, this’ll be in the reblog]]

So, @/dungeonsanddads, if you’re interested in anything beyond just having a flimsy excuse you can point to to cover your own ass, I’m gonna need you to try again.

Sorry I can’t be nicer about it, but I’ve given so many benefits of the doubt I could be running a successful charity, and this isn’t an issue I’m willing to drop. 

10:02 PM

Thought I was done but actually I've got a few more questions: to what extent were @/HeyBethMay, @/WillBCampos, and @/mattLarnold included in conversations about this issue/the new rules? Is this something your whole team is involved in?

Have you discussed what you're doing on a team and individual basis to keep your fan interactions safe, and are you on the same page about how much it matters? Are you holding each other accountable? Is everyone okay with where this ended up?”

[matchasprouts]

Listen Closer - Chapter 19

[ i promised a listen closer update and by god i will give y'all a listen closer update ]

First || Next || Previous || Last

It was the next week that all the final touches on the big game were complete, and John was ready to let himself inevitably die at the end. Amanda was out collecting Dr. Denlon, having already moved Matthews into the room for his trap. Garrett had already retrieved Jeff Denlon, the doctor’s husband, and had him set up in the crate he would have to escape to get started.

Mark was heading out to get the players in Rigg’s game at the same time Garrett was leaving to get the other parts of Jeff Denlon’s game. Theoretically, that meant they would be back at the same time, despite two of Mark’s players not needing to be brought in. He still had to set up the trap that would start off Rigg’s game, after knocking Rigg himself out.

If all went accordingly, that meant Garrett would be there to help Mark get set up for his role in the game. Mark really didn’t want Amanda to do it, and neither did Garrett.

Garrett probably had it the easiest out of the two of them. He could get all his players at once, since his car was large enough for all three of them and none of them really had a fighting chance against them.

He got the most difficult one first, the one that would be going on the rack. He put up a fight, but Garrett was faster. The second one he grabbed was the Judge, who was actually asleep when he came in. Last, but not least, the witness that did nothing.

Honestly, he didn’t think any of these people needed to be trapped. The crash was an accident, the judge was just doing his job- it’s not like the accident was murder- and the witness was probably just scared.

Denlon, however, deserved this and they, unfortunately, were part of it.

As expected, despite the planning, Garrett got back before Mark. This wasn’t ideal, but it was preferred over Mark getting back first. He was likely still setting up Rigg’s apartment and trap. He doubted it would take much longer, it had been several hours since they first left.

He took the chance to hang the witness up in the freezer room (he felt bad stripping her naked, but he knew it had to be done), chain the judge up in the meat vat (he knew he wouldn’t be able to watch this one), and set the second most important player up in the rack.

John watched him do this, apparently wanting to ensure that he did it right. Amanda stood behind him, her eyes never once leaving Garrett.

Really? She didn’t trust him?

Maybe she should change her mind on killing Lynn Denlon before deciding to be pissy with him.

He glared at her, the sight of his wide eyes narrowing making her visibly uncomfortable. He turned back to the trap, using his shoulder to hold him up as he strapped him in by the ankles. Once that part was done, a hand on his chest held him upright as Garrett strapped in his wrists. Last was his head.

Once that was done, Garrett sent one last glance at John and Amanda, debating saying something to them but being cut off before he got the chance by his phone beeping with a text.

Mark was back, and it was time to set him up.

---

“You know, you look awfully pretty tied down like this,” Garrett teased, tightening the straps on Mark’s wrists a little bit. He’d already gotten the ankle straps done, he was just making sure the wrist ones were secure.

Mark rolled his eyes at the statement. “Yeah, sure. Enjoy it while it lasts.” Oh, he definitely was going to.

Garrett was, rather unfortunately, the only apprentice not participating in the game. John had made it clear that he wanted someone to watch the whole thing at once, in order to make sure that all of the rules were followed. He was not, however, allowed to intervene.

Once Mark was strapped in, he moved on to Detective Matthews. Admittedly, it was rather difficult to get him onto the ice block and not accidentally hang him, but he worked it out.

After finishing up with the wires meant to be tripped and giving the lever that would activate the trap, he took one last glance at Mark, offered him a smile, and shut off the lights.

Art Blank would be arriving soon, and Rigg would be waking up in no time. It was time for him to get to his viewing room.

The door unlocked with a click, and relocked with a higher pitched one. He couldn’t have anyone getting in here- the operation surviving relied on Mark and Garrett keeping up the lie. Not to mention the fact that he couldn’t get captured, he needed to put Strahm in his trap.

He sat down at the desk and turned on all of the monitors, not entirely sure how well he’ll be able to focus on all of them at once. If all else fails, he will probably just focus on Mark’s.

Though, he did want to make sure he watched the trap he built for Ivan. He was very invested in how it turned out since it was so much trouble to build.

He hummed a soft tune as he got set up, keeping a weapon close by in case someone did get into the room. He quieted down when Lynn woke up, and sat down to watch the game unfold.

It was going to be an interesting one, that’s for sure.

---

Amanda was starting to lose her cool, even Garrett could see that.

He’d chosen to turn his attention for the time being to John’s part of the game, while Jeff dealt with the Judge. He just couldn’t watch that trap- it was sickening, and that had to mean something when it came from someone like him.

Rigg was definitely taking his time as he went through his own part of the game, which was curious considering how desperate he was to get out of there. He’d only just put Ivan in the trap when Jeff freed the judge, staring at him for a moment before running out of there.

Next was the teacher and his wife, a trap Garrett wished he’d had the pleasure of putting together.

Obviously, he was fond of killing abusers. He had a plan for a game he would put together later with a similar premise of killing an abusive lover that the player just couldn’t leave. It wasn’t a punishment for staying- it was a key to freedom.

He watched as Rigg found the woman and her husband, flinching when she suddenly woke up. His attention turned back to Jeff, who was now entering the room with the Rack.

Amanda had decided to take a break from John’s game, storming out of the room and disappearing from the sight of the cameras. If Garrett had to guess, he’d say that she was probably cutting herself again.

She’d made him swear not to tell John, but even that precaution wasn’t needed because at this point, he wanted her out of the way. She killed with no remorse, and he couldn’t keep her in check like he could with Mark. Unfortunately, she had to go.

Garrett hummed as he turned to Mark’s game, Art Blank just now handing the gun over to Matthews. He watched as Matthews considered killing himself, loading the single bullet into the gun and pressing it against the underside of his jaw.

But, in the end, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Garrett wasn’t sure if he was weak willed, or if he cared enough about Mark to not kill him.

Possibly both.

Rigg was helping the woman down now, putting his coat over her to keep her warm after the blood loss.

As he did that, Strahm and Perez entered the motel room where Ivan’s body lay. Through one of the cameras, Garrett had seen the addict that grabbed him last time he was there pull Strahm to the side, likely telling him in a frantic voice about the man with the wide eyes.

Knowing Strahm, he was going to ignore this completely.

In fact, he probably thought Rigg was the apprentice he was hunting, which was exactly what he was supposed to think.

Of course Strahm seemed angry while talking to Perez about the trap, but then she said something and he shut up. It seemed like it was a suggestion, because after a second, he pulled out his phone and typed something in.

Garrett didn’t realize he was making a call until his own phone started ringing.

“Shit-!” he hissed, not having accounted for the fact that of course Strahm would try to call the only Jigsaw specialist in. But he couldn’t leave, and none of them had time for this. He debated just letting it go to voicemail, but that would be suspicious, so he finally picked up.

“It’s my off day Strahm, I don’t care what kind of trap you’ve just run into, I’m not leaving my damn apartment,” he started immediately, cutting Strahm’s greeting off. There was silence for a moment, before Strahm spoke up again.

“I know, but this is the second trap we’ve come across. It’s a multistage game and-” Garrett cut him off once again, not willing to sit through the explanation of a game he was facilitating.

“All the more reason for me to not come in right now,” he said, glancing at Jeff’s game in time to watch the driver’s head get twisted all the way around, killing him instantly. “If it’s a multistage game, the likelihood of me walking into something I can’t defend myself from is too high. Contractually I can’t go.”

That was actually the truth. Part of the contract he signed when he was hired on was that if a trap was found and the game was still active, he couldn’t look at it. There was far too high of a chance that he could get hurt, and the police couldn’t handle that liability.

Strahm’s end of the phone was quiet, probably pressed against his chest as he spoke to Perez about something. Finally, he broke it. “Fine. I’m not getting fired over you.”

“Oh, don’t be so bitter,” Garrett all but hissed, watching Jeff try to find a way out as Rigg ran through the halls in search of his coworkers. “I have to go. Good luck.”

He hung up, and watched as Strahm got another location and rushed out of there.

Now his focus was solely on Amanda and Lynn. Amanda had a gun with her, apparently, and Garrett could tell that she was close to snapping. Hopefully she’d hold out long enough for Strahm to arrive.

---

Strahm was alone when he entered the building, blood spattered on his shirt and his gun drawn. Garrett watched as he and Jeff both headed for the same room, turning to one of the other monitors and watching Art get shot by Rigg.

He’d enjoyed watching Matthews die, his head crushed by the giant ice blocks suspended above him. Though, he was a bit surprised that Mark managed to avoid any of the chunks that went flying.

He heard gunshots, and watched Strahm kill Jeff. He grabbed his pig mask, and ran from the room, pulling it on as he went. He hid in the next room that Strahm was supposed to find, hidden by the shadows and pressed against the back of a pillar.

Strahm didn’t take long to get into the room, slowly making his way to one of the gurneys. He ran a hand over it, and Garrett rushed out at him, grabbing the back of his head and slamming it into the gurney before jabbing the needle into his neck.

The liquid went in, and Strahm went limp in his grasp. Garrett took the chance to look him over when he wasn’t hopped up on pain meds, humming softly as his thumb brushed over the agent’s cheek.

Not wanting to waste anymore time, he hoisted Strahm onto his shoulder and made his way to the water box room.

It wasn’t long before Strahm was set up in his trap, everything he’d been carrying on him laid out on a small table in front of him. Originally, Garrett was going to plant the pen on him before he woke up, but now… now he wanted him to know that the only reason he survived was that someone acting as Jigsaw spared him.

It’d be quite the ego killer.

Garrett stood in the darkness of the room as he waited for Strahm to wake, giving him a significantly watered down dose of the sedative they used so he would wake up sooner. The longer it took, the more he fidgeted, needing to get outside so he could have an alibi.

Finally, he woke up… and immediately started banging at the glass and yelling for help. Garrett tilted his head at him, watching him thrash until he pressed a button on a remote kept in his pocket, getting the water to flow.

He’d blocked out Strahm’s yelling at this point, waiting until the water was close to his mouth before slowly making his way over to him, the pen hidden in his hand by the sleeve of the jacket he wore.

Strahm froze for half a second before thrashing even harder the closer he got. Garrett pressed his gloved index finger to the mouth of the pig mask, before leaning close to Strahm and slipping the pen into his pocket.

They made eye contact for a few seconds, before Garrett was pulling away and leaving the building. He heard Strahm yell out to him, just barely hearing him beg for him to come back before the door was closed and he was removing anything that would make it seem like he was Jigsaw.

His mask, jacket, and gloves went in the back of his car. He also changed his general clothes at his car, making it seem more like he had just thrown some clothes on in a rush. Then he went around the building, slipping into the crowd at the front.

Once he saw Mark, he started to act panicked, just like he was supposed to. He shoved his way through the people, yelling out for his boyfriend when one of the cops keeping the crowd back grabbed him, saying something about civilians not being allowed past the tape.

“I’m the fucking specialist you ass!” Garrett spat, forcing his way out of their grasp and ducking under the tape and making a beeline for Mark.

He hit his lover’s chest hard, making him stumble back a little, but he immediately felt Mark’s arms around him. “Is everyone dead?” he whispered, looking up at the detective.

Mark just nodded. Of course, he didn’t know that Strahm was still alive, and he’d probably never know that that was because of Garrett. “It’s just us now.”

Garrett pulled him into a kiss to hide his grin from the cameras, one that Mark quickly returned. They both immediately pulled back when they heard someone say that they had a live one, finding Strahm laid out on a different gurney and being pulled into an ambulance.

“Shit,” Garrett hissed, glancing up at Mark, whose jaw had tightened at the sight of the agent. He looked down at Garrett, not angry with him but clearly angry at Strahm’s survival.

“I hope you have a plan to fix this…” he practically growled, his features softening when his boyfriend looked uncomfortable.

Garrett sighed softly, resting his forehead on Mark’s chest. “I always do. It’s gonna take time though.”

“Better than nothing.”

Hopefully, the questioning wouldn’t last too long.

[howaboutleeches]

since you don't have anon on I will be brave: Jules, mafia au, meetcute, "are you sure this is legal"

                                Dangerous Affairs

Word Count: 1,768

It was early. Like early early. Your boss had called you almost at midnight asking you to come earlier the next day. You were aiming to get a promotion, and in other to facilitate things, you had to make your boss happy, and that’s why you agreed. But damn, 5am is way too early. 

You worked in a really cute flower shop, very well-known around Vesuvia. It was a cute but very popular place, especially after the Countess ordered a bunch of flowers from there, which made everyone want to do the same, of course. That made the shop get busier, and you as well.

You fished the keys out of your pocket and unlocked the front door, doing your best to not bump into any vases, or else you knew it would come out of your payment. You quickly got in and turned on the lights, noticing how you and one other shop were the only ones open at the time, as expected at such an early hour.

White roses, pink note. White roses, pink note. You kept repeating that to yourself along the way and inside the shop as well, keeping in mind exactly what you had to do. Some company was celebrating their anniversary and one of the employees would come by around 6am to pick the flowers up.

It could've been at any time of the day, but there would be way more things involved so they booked to pick the flowers at first dawn to start things as soon as possible.

Going to the back of the shop, you quickly located the flowers and the note, starting to bring the large vases to the front, where they would be easier to bring outside. It took way longer than you expected and when the last vase was brought to the front, a ray of sunlight hit your face, noticing it was time to start the real work.

You sat on the counter and it didn't take long until a large van pulled up in front of the store, displaying the company's name on its side. You moved yourself to open the door and make sure it stayed like that, starting to bring the vases outside. You could feel your arm muscles burning from carrying all that.

Luckily, the trunk door was unlocked, so all you did was open it and start putting it all inside. But the second part turned out to be harder than you expected. Dragging the vase was one thing. Lifting it was hard work. You did your best, with grunts and all, and started to lift the vase, it being a few inches from the floor.

The vase became weightless, and your back became warmer. The presence behind you came so suddenly you didn't even hear it. Large gloved hands held the vase from behind you, carefully lifting and placing it inside. With one swift motion, one of the roses was removed from the vase.

You turned around to see whoever it war the person who helped you and a tall figured man stood behind you, his red hair charmingly falling on his face. Upon seeing your face he smirked, and the rose on his hand was gently placed behind your ear.

"A rose to a rose. Don't worry, they won't notice one of them is gone. And besides, it looks way better on your than on those dull vases" He smiled and slightly bowed, keeping his eyes on you.

Words weren't formed on your brain as you watched him walk to the store and start to lift those vases as if they weighed nothing. You took the opportunity to check inside the van, seeing all the other things the company must've had bought for the celebration.

It surprised you to see other flowers there. You've seen them somewhere, in some book. You cautiously entered the van, getting close to the flowers and gave them a sniff. Your eyes widened in realization.

"Beautiful, isn't it? I'm afraid we had to order that from...another flower shop. You see, they're not very common"

The voice from behind you made you jump. You couldn't understand the situation. He was acting so calm about it, and you felt as if the situation wasn't exactly quite what it seemed.

"You do know what those are right?" Your first words to him. For a few moments, it was like he got distracted by your voice. He took a few seconds to snap back to reality.

"Well, flowers, aren't they? And they look stunning. Will definitely have an impact" He smiled innocently, but his eyes told a different story.

"Nerium Oleander. This flower is extremely poisonous!" You exclaimed, feeling unusually worried about the stranger's well-being.

"Oh, are they? Well, the company told me to get them so...." He simply shrugged, seeming unbothered by the fact.

"Are you sure this is legal? You could get into some serious trouble for caring this around" You replied, still inside the van. He seemed to be blocking your passage, but maybe not on purpose.

"Absolutely sure dear, don't worry about that" He placed the last vase and extended a hand to you, which you gladly took, pulling you out of the van "I think I was supposed to come inside to leave the payment?"

"Oh yes, sure thing" I nod and walk inside, holding the door for him.

Once we get in the shop again, I go behind the counter and start to look around for the spreadsheet with all the information regarding the price. I found it on a nearby chair and turned around to grab it. Turning around, I placed it on the table along with a pan and slid it closer to him.

"Just please put your signature there and we're all done" You gave him a tired smile.

He looked up at you and smirked before leaning down a bit, grabbing the pen and writing on the paper attached to the spreadsheet. You could see his eyes rasing a bit, eyeing your name tag. He finished writing, his writing was truly beautiful, and handed you the sheet back, a warm smile on his face.

“It was a pleasure meeting you this morning Y/n. I thought this morning would be dull, but your presence sure made it exciting” 

He gave you a side smile and turned around in a swift motion, walking towards the door. You felt your head on the clouds while talking to him, his mere presence making you feel calm. So call, so peaceful and so careless that you forgot to ask for his name.

You heard the bell on the door, signaling that it had been closed and quickly lunged forward. You opened the door again, noticing the mysterious man already getting in the van. You quickly rushed to the driver’s side and knocked on the window, catching him by surprise. He jumped a bit on his seat and opened a smile again. As he rolled down the window you noticed he was different.

His work vest was unbuttoned and open, showing a fancy suit underneath it. His hair was slightly pushed back and he had sunglasses tucked on it, apparently very expensive ones. You gave it a curious look before he put his face closer to yours, bringing you back to reality.

“Y-You never said your name....” You said softly, still trying to figure that man out.

From the other end of the avenue, you hear police sirens. Although very low, there were definitely many. Six cars at least. He chuckled, unphased by the sound, and smirked.

“My name? You’ll know it very soon” He reached inside the car, opening the glove compartment and pulled out a black business card, holding it between his middle and index finger “Make sure to watch the news tonight”

And with that, he winked and took off. Not even two minutes later, several police cars passed you while you were still outside. Their noise caught your attention and you finally looked down at the card.

One side was completely black, the paper was a shiny tone, making it glisten as you moved it. When you turned it around, you saw something written in denim letters, a color close to blood.

J. Devorak

You could’ve sworn you heard that name before, you just didn’t know where. You shrugged and went back inside, keeping the card in your pocket the whole day. Work went by relatively fast and you dragged yourself home. Only in the middle of the way you reminded what the stranger from earlier had told you.  Make sure to watch the news tonight. With that in mind, you rushed to your house, almost tripping in the way as you quickly made your way through the streets. 

You quickly unlocked the door and searched for your remote. Once in your hand, you turned the TV on, browsing through the channels and selecting the most famous news one. Almost immediately, the anchor turned to the camera, a serious expression on her face.

“Now, we’d like to address a serious issue that happened this morning. An attack happened during a famous event this morning. The event consisted of the anniversary of the Wisecrest Company, owned by Kellaway Wisecrest. He had been accused of stealing donation money for personal usage recently but walked away freely. Apparently, someone decided to take justice into their own hands. A large number of poisonous flowers were delivered to Wisecrest’s personal room right before the party began, disguised with other non lethal white roses”

“Needless to say, he did not participate in the celebration. During the time, he was unconscious in his room. While that happened, someone hacked into his personal archives and leaked all his information, confirming to the crimes. Wisecrest is now being held in prison, waiting for his trial. The police believes that the Vesuvian mafia could be involved, making Julian Devorak one of the main suspects”

You could feel your jaw dropping. The man who did all that, the same man who charmed you this morning, worked for the mafia!?

“Julian Devorak is a very known mafia leader, also known as “The Mafia Robin Wood”. If he is in case responsible, this wouldn’t be the first time where he did something like this. As the investigation progresses, we will keep the public informed”

As you heard the anchor changing the subject, you slowly pulled the card off your pocket. But now it was different. Where it before was written J. Devorak, now showed, in the same denim letters Jules. And on the back part where there was nothing, a phone number.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I really hope you enjoy this, I’m sorry for the delay. 

I hadn’t noticed about the anon part 😅, but it’s available now!

Have a nice day! 💕🌻

[theotherjourney7]

“The Week In Tory returns for the second time in 4 days.

The weeks grow shorter, but the days last forever...

1. The consultant who advised the government to look for "alternative arrangements" on the Irish Border is in line for a £200m contract if alternative arrangements go ahead.

But to facilitate this, the government has to break international law with the Internal Market Bill (IMB)

Nobody can tell us what the "alternative arrangements" are, but the IMB passed through parliament anyway.

2. The UK’s highest-ranking law officer in Scotland resigned over the IMB

& The UK’s special envoy on media freedom, Amal Clooney (yes, that one) quit over IMB

3. The former (Tory appointed) ambassador to USA said the IMB was "hugely damaging to our international reputation"

4. Those snowflake liberal Remoaners Toby Young, Peter Hitchens and Tim Montgomerie turned on the govt over IMB. As did every living former-Prime Minister.

5. Joe Biden said there would be no UK/US Trade Deal if the IMB went ahead

But, Iain Duncan Smith said "we don’t need lectures" from Joe Biden

Trump’s special envoy to Northern Ireland also said there would be no Trade Deal

Apparently, Iain Duncan Smith does need lectures. Who knew?

6. Oh, and IMB also includes a provision allowing the government to break absolutely any law, absolutely any time!!!!!

7. Unrelated, I’m sure, but the number of "problem drinkers" in England doubled this year

So the government cut funding to alcohol addiction services

8. Dominic Raab, whose job it is to understand the Good Friday Agreement, admitted he hasn’t read the Good Friday Agreement

His excuse is: "it’s not a novel". True. Novels tend to be longer than 35 pages, aren't vital to solving conflicts that killed 3600 people

9. The Prime Minister, who literally voted to break a deal he signed with the EU, said the EU was "not negotiating in good faith"

The next morning, Northern Ireland minister and arch memo-misser Brandon Lewis went on TV and said "I believe the EU is negotiating in good faith"

10. It was revealed the Smart Freight System to handle post-Brexit trade won’t be ready until at least April 2021.

That’s at least 4 months without a freight handling system, during the time of year we rely on food imports the most

11. The Road Haulage Association said a meeting with Michael Gove to discuss border checks provided "no clarity" and was "a washout"

12. An official report says 2-day queues at Dover in January are "a certainty"

So the government closed a Covid test site in Kent, to convert it into a lorry park, in what experts (well, me) are calling "the world’s shittest game of whack-a-mole"

13. The government said people would be fined £1000 if they don’t self-isolate after getting a positive test

And then all tests ran out in the 10 worst-hit Covid hotspots

And then all home testing kits ran out, nationally

And then the website for booking tests broke, and just showed a series of error messages.

And then the government said the system was under strain because people were asking for tests when they didn’t know they were infected

So [deep breath] you must self-isolate after getting a test that doesn’t exist, and you can only get a test if you already know the result

14. Naturally, honesty no-fly-zone Home Office Secretary Priti Patel went on Radio 4 and announced tests were available everywhere and there were "no problems getting tests"

Same day - same hour, in fact - Prime Minister Boris Johnson said the testing system "has huge problems"

Jacob Rees-Mogg, who simply cannot shut up about fish, said we should stop the "endless carping" about not being tested for a fatal infection

15.Prime Minister Boris Johnson went on national TV and announced a "£100bn moonshot" approach to Covid, which would test "10m people per day"

Three days later, in front of a Parliamentary Committee, said he "didn’t recognise" the figure of 10m a day

And it was reported his half-brother is on the board of the business that would get most of the £100bn budget, which I’m sure is just a massive coincidence

Officials branded the moonshot as "Moonfuck"

16. And then Health Secretary Matt Hancock had to ask other cabinet ministers to stop referring to him as "Matt WankCock"

Despite appearances, these are not 7 year old boys

17. Food news, and Tory MP Douglas Ross said "I have seen the difference free school meals can make, and I want to make sure nobody falls through the cracks"

Douglas Ross voted against free school meals

18. Prime Minister Boris Johnson said we cannot put punitive restrictions on food imports from the EU (to force them to give up on Ireland), or we will starve

And then, minutes later, he agreed with a Brexiter MP who said we SHOULD put punitive restrictions on food imports from the EU

19. Prime Minister Boris Johnson said "I venerate our civil service" after sacking the innocent heads of multiple departments to protect friends including Gavin Williamson and Dominic Cummings. And as a result, people leaving the civil service rose 14% in a year

20. Planning-ahead news: an international conglomerate pulled out of a £16bn power project because the government hasn’t performed its part of the deal for the last 20 months

21. Funding cuts since 2010 meant the government had to inject £700m to prevent further education going bankrupt

22. This week it was found the government– which last week voted not to implement the recommendations of the Grenfell Tower Inquiry – has also failed to deliver its promise to remove the same dangerous cladding from at least 2000 tower blocks. Sleep well.

And then the government said files on Grenfell were "lost forever", after a laptop was wiped. Because everything is always stored on a single laptop. We all know this.

The government runs G-Cloud, its own dedicated cloud backup service, which has been active since 2012. So... yeah.

23. At a committee in parliament, an MP read out the Covid test figures. Dido Harding, in charge of testing, said “I’m sorry, that’s just not true, I don’t know where that number is from”

It was from her own report. Page 8. In bold type.

Dido Harding said "nobody could predict" a rise in demand for testing

Government scientists predicted it, and in a July report sent to Dido Harding – maybe it was a different one? - said "July and Aug must be a period of intense preparation for a September resurgence in Covid"

Oh, and standard advice says the NHS must always prepare for cold and respiratory infections to spike immediately after the return to school in September

Dido Harding wasted £13m on a "world-beating" testing app that cost £12.3m more than the German app, and didn’t work

She is now in charge of the test-and-trace service which has collapsed completely

So naturally, it was reported the government wants to sack the head of NHS England and install Dido Harding instead. Let's make the most of that successful record, eh?

24. In June the government tweeted "grab a drink and raise a glass, pubs are reopening"

The Prime Minister said "it is your patriotic duty to go out and enjoy yourselves"

This week they said the public is responsible, and "people going to the pub fuelled the rise in Covid"

So the government closed pubs at 10pm, because it’s well-known viruses only pop out for last orders.

25. Health Secretary Matt Hancock said the government "threw a protective ring around care homes"

A leaked document said care homes are now being asked to accept patients who are known to have Covid

26. Hospitals were banned from launching their own testing regime for staff and patience because… nope, nobody knows why. Just because.

27. There hasn’t been a meeting of COBRA (the government’s committee for national emergencies, headed by the Prime Minister) since 10th May

28. As Covid infections surged, Health Secretary Matt Hancock said restrictions are increasing, and pointed to a chart showing the government has "moved to alert level 3". Level 3 is "a gradual relaxing of restrictions". Not only can't he remember his own alert system, he can't even read it.

29. Despite travel restrictions, it was reported the Prime Minister flew off for a long weekend in Perugia, where his friend the Russian billionaire Evgeny Lebedev lives. He denies it, but the airport has his landing documents. So either he’s lying or... no, that’s the end of that sentence

30. In June the government spent £500m on a GPS satellite system to replace the one we lose due to Brexit

In July it was reported "we bought the wrong satellites"

This week the government cancelled the programme and began asking the EU if we can keep on using their GPS system

31. A cross-party committee of MPs found nurse-Ratched cosplayer Home Office Secretary Priti Patel "bases immigration policies on anecdotes and prejudice"

It found her dept has "no idea" what its annual spending achieves, and referred to "the wreckage that [Patel’s department’s] ignorance caused"

She is one of the favourites to replace Prime Minister Johnson

32. This is because it was reported the Prime Minister is thinking of quitting because he’s worried about his personal finances: the poor man has to "pay tax", "buy his own food" and "support 4 of his 6 children". Oh, the humanity!

33. And Jonathan Aitken – look him up – continues to get privileged access to parliament despite a ban on MPs who have served more than a year in prison. Which he did. And it was hilarious.

34. And finally, because he always needs a guest appearance, Chris Grayling, the man who awarded a ferry contract to a company with no ships, has got a £100k appointment to advise ports”-Russ

[discordantwords]

Don’t know if you are still doing prompts but would love one where someone objected at John and Mary’s wedding. Maybe Sherlock or Harry showing up drunk in the middle? Or David, Mary’s ex? Sholto? Or anything where John kisses Sherlock and neither of them was expecting it. Cue Sherlock shock and John worried he ruin everything.

The Interruption

The music had been timed perfectly. The procession had… proceeded. The guests looked appropriately misty-eyed. Mary was resplendent in vintage lace.

 And John—

 Sherlock swallowed, looked away.

 He distanced himself. Not fully—he could not risk vanishing into his mind palace and losing track of time—but just enough that he could stop himself from flinching when Mary and John joined hands.

 It was, the best possible outcome. Somehow knowing that did not stop him from occasionally imagining a different outcome entirely.

Foolish. He did not have time to waste on impossibilities.

 Mary was clever. She made no effort to dissuade John from the work he did with Sherlock, she at times even seemed to relish joining in. He preferred her to all of the other women that John had wasted time with over the years.

 So this was—fine. It was good.

 The vicar was speaking. Sherlock filtered out the words, let his gaze wander around the crowded church. No one was looking at him strangely, which meant he’d not missed any important cues.

 John was speaking. And Mary. Exchanging sentimental words, no doubt.

 Sherlock shut his eyes, then forced them open. He kept his face blank, impassive. He stared at the back of John’s head and thought about sliding his fingers through the short coarse hairs there.

 Someone gasped. A murmur ran through the crowd. It was not a happy sound, and Sherlock’s blood ran cold. He’d let his guard down. He’d let his mind wander, had let himself imagine impossible things, and now—

 He snapped back to full awareness, fresh data flooding in.

 No one was looking at him. Whatever the problem, he hadn’t caused it.

 There was a man standing up near the back of the church.

 Sherlock looked at him.

(sat near the back to facilitate hasty exit, ex-military, dress uniform, scarred face, all of which pointed to only one possibility: Major James Sholto)

 He’d done extensive research, of course, after Mary’s comment. He knew a good deal about the man (It was only prudent, after all—as Best Man he should be familiar with John’s guests). But none of his research would explain why the man seemed dead set on making a scene.

 No matter. The man was clearly deranged and would need to be escorted out of the church immediately before he dealt additional damage. He stepped forward to do just that, glancing towards John as he did so, and what he saw brought him up short.

 John looked shocked. No, more than shocked. Worse than shocked. He looked anguished. All of the blood had left his face. He’d withdrawn his hand from Mary’s, had clenched it into a tight fist.

 Sherlock hesitated, because he’d stood beside John on the brink of death more than once, and he could not recall ever seeing him make a face like that. The only thing that came close was—

 He shied away from the memory.

 The look on John’s face was not simply the expression of a man irritated at an interruption. It was the stricken look of a man suddenly faced with a ghost from the past, someone significant, possibly a lover.  

 But that was impossible. That would mean—

 The world tilted sideways. Sherlock breathed in, shut his eyes, let the facts rearrange themselves in his mind.

 Posh restaurant. Someone else’s bowtie around his neck, a fake moustache drawn crudely over his lip. Clean white shirt dragging stiff against the fresh dressings on his back. John, looking up from a table to finally meet his eyes. And his face—

 His face.

 He’d missed it. How had he missed it? He’d noted the effect his reappearance had had, of course, he wasn’t blind, and he’d gone ahead and classified that expression as hurt, but hurt was too simple, not nearly enough to cover the breadth of what John’s incredibly expressive face had conveyed with that look.

 And now—

 He snapped back to himself amidst the frantic muttering and humming of the crowd. John was gone from his side. Mary was gone too.

 He was alone at the altar.

 He scanned the crowd, but Sholto had disappeared. That told him nothing. Stupid. Stupid. He had no idea if Sholto had left or been escorted out or had disappeared somewhere with John. He’d wasted valuable time thinking about things he could not change and now—

 He darted up the aisle towards the doors, tried to deduce the most likely path John would have taken.

 The back rooms, of course. Where John put on his suit jacket and donned his hat, where he’d stood staring at himself in the mirror and carefully avoiding meeting Sherlock’s eye.

 And—oh—Sherlock had noticed, of course he’d noticed. But he’d thought: nerves, and he’d been preoccupied thinking about all of the ways his life would change and all of the ways that it wouldn’t.

 Alone. Always, always alone. And that was how he preferred it.

Wasn’t it?

 The door was shut. He opened it, perhaps a bit vigorously—it rebounded against the wall and swung back, almost striking him in the face.

 John and Sholto—not Mary, Sholto—snapped their heads up to look at him. They were standing close, very close, clearly they’d been deep in the midst of some serious discussion.

 John cleared his throat. His eyes were red-rimmed and a little wild.

 "Is everything all right?“ Sherlock asked, his voice flat, level. He shot a pointed look in Sholto’s direction.

 "Is everything—” John breathed, and then laughed. It was not a happy sound. “No. Everything is not bloody all right. Not by a mile.”

 "I am sorry,“ Sholto said, and to his credit he did look convincingly contrite. "I don’t know what came over me. I never should have come.”

 John laughed again, turned away from both of them. His hand clenched and unclenched rhythmically.

 "I think it’s best if I go,“ Sholto said to John’s rigid back. He glanced at Sherlock, then away. Then he nodded, a sharp little jerk of his chin (and there was enough of John in that motion that it nearly brought Sherlock to his knees), and left the room.

 Sherlock swallowed, waited for John to speak.

 Silence fell between them.

 "Shall I—tell the vicar you need a few moments?” he tried.

 John whirled around, his face contorted. “A few moments. You want to tell the vicar—Sherlock, what the hell is wrong with you?”

 That seemed to be a rhetorical question. Sherlock remained silent.

 "Where is Mary?“ John asked, finally.

 "I don’t know,” Sherlock admitted. He looked down at the ground, then rallied. “Would you like me to find her?”

 "No,“ John said, and the anger had bled out of his voice. "Not yet. Just—oh, fuck.”

 Sherlock watched him warily.

 "This is the sort of thing that happens in films,“ John said. There was a weary humour in his voice now. "Last minute declarations, and all that. It’s not nearly as romantic as they’d have you believe.”

 Romantic.

 Sherlock swallowed, nodded, though he had absolutely no idea what John was talking about.

 "Surely you’ve worked it out by now,“ John said. Bitterness had crept into his voice.

 "Your ex commander,” Sherlock said, speaking slowly. “And your… ex.”

 "Smartest man in the room, right here,“ John said. His mouth tightened.

 "And he was—hoping you still felt the same?”

 "He swears he didn’t meant to,“ John said. He looked up at the ceiling, shut his eyes. "That he’d fully intended to come and wish me well, but then he just—”

 Sherlock swallowed again. His face was hot. He very much wanted to flee. “I’ll go get Mary.”

 "Christ,“ John said. "No. Didn’t you hear me? I can't—not right now.”

 "She’ll be wondering what’s going on.“

 "It’s pretty obvious what’s going on.”

 "No,“ Sherlock said, feeling slow and helpless and stupid. "It’s very much not.”

 John looked at him. “What do you mean?”

 "Well,“ Sherlock said. "It’s your wedding day. An—old flame—” he nearly choked on the words, “—interrupted the ceremony in order to attempt to win back your favour.”

 John blinked, shook his head. He looked more amused than horrified, which seemed a step in the right direction.

 "As he’s left—" Sherlock said, and he offered an exaggerated glance around the empty little room, “I can only assume that you don’t return his affections. That whatever there was between you has—um—cooled. Naturally what should follow is a reaffirmation of the affections you do feel, for—um—the person you feel them for. In this case, Mary.”

 John smiled at him. It was a sad smile, which made very little sense.

 "Yeah,“ John said, finally, after far too much time had passed. He held Sherlock’s gaze. "Mary.”

 "Then I’ll just—" Sherlock turned towards the door, his heart in his throat.

 "Wait,“ John said.

 Sherlock stopped. He was trembling. He did not know why. He wished it would stop.

 "Did you know?”

 "Probably,“ Sherlock said, and then relented. "Did I know what?”

 "About him.“

 Sherlock’s mouth went dry. "No,” he admitted.

 "We were very close,“ John said. "For a while. And it was—yeah—it was wartime, you know? So everything was a bit—erm—”

 "Good,“ Sherlock said. He clapped his hands together. "Excellent. There’s no need for additional detail.”

 "But it’s over,“ John said. "Has been for—Christ, I haven’t even spoken to him in years. I don’t know why I invited him, seems a bit cruel now in retrospect, but I guess I just wanted to—I just wanted—”

 Sherlock waited.

 "Look, after things ended—um—I’m not good at this, yeah? You know that. I don't—I don’t talk about this stuff.“

 "With good reason.”

 John huffed a laugh, shook his head. “After—him. There’s only one person in my life that I’ve ever felt that strongly about,” John said. “And that’s not even—there’s no comparison, really.”

 "Mary Morstan,“ Sherlock said, and wasn’t this all getting a bit tedious? John was all set to marry the woman, obviously his feelings for her were stronger than whatever he’d shared with Sholto.

 "No,” John said, his voice so soft that it might have been a whisper. “Not exactly.”

 Sherlock’s hands shook. He folded them behind him, bounced on the balls of his feet. Frowned. “You’re not making sense. Have you been drugged?”

 "What? No,“ John said. He took a step forward, his face terribly earnest.

 Sherlock could smell him; cologne and flowers and nervous sweat.

 "Look,” John said. He licked his lips, looked away. “I’m not—if I'm—if this is. Um. Not something you want to hear, then I swear I’ll never mention it again. But this wedding is fucked anyway, and I just—”

 Sherlock tilted his head, watched him curiously.

 "Just—" John said. He clenched his fists, breathed out through his nose. “You,” he said.

 "Sorry?“

 ”You. It’s bloody you, all right? It’s always been you. From the first moment I saw you in that lab, and you just—you were just so—" John made a frustrated sound, looked away. “You were the most amazing thing I’d ever seen. Still are.”

 "John,“ Sherlock said, his voice emerging much too thin and shaky. "What, exactly, are you trying to say?”

 “Can’t you deduce it?“ John asked. "Do you really have to make me say it?”

 "I—"

 "Oh for—" John took another deep breath. “Look, I just have to know. Before I—before I do anything else. Do you think—did you ever think—that something might—that we might—”

 Sherlock blinked. Blinked again.

 John couldn’t be saying what it sounded like he was saying. He couldn’t be—

 The look on his face, that night at the Landmark.

 Sherlock shut his eyes, sucked in a shuddering breath. “I find the thought occupies a terrifying amount of my mind.”

 "Yeah?“ John’s voice had gone soft again. He sounded very close.

 Sherlock nodded. He did not open his eyes. "Yes.”

 "Okay,“ John said. His breath ghosted over Sherlock’s lips. Sherlock shivered. "Okay. Um. What are we—what, exactly, do you want to do about that?”

 Sherlock opened his eyes and froze. John’s face was only a few inches away.

 He had no idea what to do. What to say.

“I—” he said. He swallowed, tried again. “I—”

 "I’m going to call off the wedding,“ John said. He lifted his hand, pressed his palm against Sherlock’s cheek, just for a moment. His fingers were cool against Sherlock’s heated skin. "All right? And then we’ll talk.”

 "Are you sure?“

 "Yeah,” John said. There was a smile curving at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, I'm—I’m sure.”

 "Oh,“ Sherlock said. He felt a bit breathless. "All right.”

 "All right,“ John echoed. He dropped his hand from Sherlock’s cheek, smiled. It was a bright smile, unfettered, joyful. It lifted years from his face. "All right, good.”

 "Should I—um—" Sherlock hesitated, looked around the room. His brain had not come back online and he felt sluggish, helpless.

 "Go home,“ John said. "This is going to take a while, I think, and, um. I’m going to want—” he paused, shook his head. He was still smiling. “I’ll see you there. At Baker Street.”

 "Home,“ Sherlock said.

 "Yeah,” John said. “Home.”