#I think it’s a crime that the number of fics for them on ao3 is less than 50

[natelia-aldelliz]

"Ah, Nik, wait!"

Nikolai turns back around at the sound of the Captain's voice.

"You're going to make me miss my flight," he pretends to complain, not able to keep himself from smiling.

Price rolls his eyes. "You're the one flying your flight back home."

Nik chuckles. John looks annoyed, but clearly it's not directed at him if him relaxing in his presence is to be believed.

"Anyway, I won't keep you long, I just need you to teach me how to say something in Russian."

There's a terrible idea rising in Nik's mind. He tries to ignore it at first.

"There's this guy, he's a fucking asshole and I'd like to tell him to go fuck himself in his native language."

He nods distractedly at Price. But it would be the perfect moment... He leaves right after that, after all... And John wouldn't understand right away, he'd have time to go hide somewhere.

"Right," he clears his throat and smiles at Price. "I can do that, sure. Repeat after me, try to remember the words : я -"

Price squints his eyes in concentration. He looks so fucking cute that Nik could die.

"Ya -"

"влюбилась"

"Woah, okay, vl...vlyoubeelas?"

Nik's smile is growing. "Good," he says, voice lower. Swears that John's cheeks are redder than they were before. Interesting. "в"

Price frowns. "Just 'vv' ?"

"Да. And finally, тебя."

"Tyebya."

Nik's heart is starting to beat a bit faster, apparently just now realising what he was doing. There's no going back now.

"Now the whole thing : я влюбилась в тебя"

John's brow furrows more in deep focus. "Ya vlyoubeelas vtyebya."

Damn, that makes Nik's cheeks warmer and his smile wider. He knows that Price doesn't mean it, doesn't even know what it means, but if that's all he's going to get, he's going to cherish it inside his heart.

He isn't sure John will want anything to do with him when he'll look it up, after all, he hasn't survived this long by having too high hopes. His smile softens and he nods at his friend.

"Not bad. Remember the words."

Price huffs. "Of course I'll remember the words. Now go, wouldn't want you to miss your own chopper back home."

Nik laughs and shakes his head as he turns around and walks to his helicopter. He stops before climbing in, turns his head back towards the Captain.

"Oh, and John, don't actually tell him that, he has no right to hear it."

He knows Price well enough to know that he's sighing right now, but he's too far to hear it.

"What did you even teach me?" He asks in a jokingly tired voice.

Nik grins back at him. "You'll have to look it up, зайчик."

[potya-the-cat]

I just started season 4 and I know it’s not gonna happen, but I’m still living with the hope that Midge and Susie are endgame

[mariana-oconnor]

Types of AO3 Summary

Option 1 - The Excerpt:

The quickest, the easiest! Find a section of your fic that contains the main premise of said fic and also showcases your writing. Copy paste that into the summary box. BOOM! Done.

Best used for any fic, unless it's so short the excerpt would be the whole fic.

Option 2 - The No Frills:

Just a description of the fic. No need for drama. No need to complicate matters. Keep it simple, keep it safe.

Example: "A short character exploration of Blorbo's thoughts after Daisy leaves."

Best used for short fics, poems and fics where the style/format is more important than the plot. Or fics that tie directly into a scene/episode from canon or another fanfic.

Option 3 - The Hook:

Draw the reader's interest by giving them a set up with no conclusion. Introduce the main character(s), introduce the status quo, describe an inciting incident, leave a question in the reader's mind.

Example: "Blorbo is a barista at a coffee shop, struggling to pay their bills, but after handsome rockstar Obrolb walks into their coffee shop they find that they have to decide whether a chance at love is worth the cost of fame."

Best used for mid to long fic where there's a strong premise and follow through. Especially good for AUs. Can be expanded for more complex plots or used multiple times in one summary for multiple characters or subplots.

Option 4 - The Sitcom One-Liner:

"The one in which [over simplified description of one of the main plotlines]" This is essentially 'boil your plot down to the very simplest statement you can, oversimplify if possible. The more bizarre or unhelpful the better.

Example: "The one in which Blorbo learns to like cake".

Best used for fics with at least a little humour in them.

Option 5 - The Rule of Three:

Three is a magic number. Find three key moments in your fic and just list them. That's it. Often ends with 'not necessarily in that order' if used for comic effect. If it's an AU, establish that quickly (i.e. 'Star NHL player Blorbo…').

Example: "Blorbo makes a friend, falls in love, and almost burns to death, not necessarily in that order."

Best used for anything, really. Three is a magic number. The human brain loves things that come in threes.

Option 6 - The Trope Lure:

Why bother describing the plot? We all know AO3 readers are here for the tropes. Similar to The Sitcom One-Liner just using tropes instead of plot. Often followed by the phrase 'that nobody asked for'.

Example: "The Space western / A/B/O / Mail Order Bride fic that nobody asked for."

Often tacked on to the end of The Hook or The Excerpt as a tl;dr.

Best used for fic that plays its tropes straight with no shame or second guessing.

Option 7 - The Pre-emptive Strike:

(Not recommended) You just wrote this fic, the self doubt is consuming you. You feel the need to apologise profusely for your existence for no apparently reason. You feel cringe, you think the fic is cringe, you want everyone to know that you think the fic is cringe in case they don't like it and judge you for it.

Example: "So I fell in love with this pairing and had to write this. It's weird and terrible. Lol! I suck at summaries! Sorry!"

Best used for no fics ever. I cannot stress this enough.

(Seriously, I am begging you, don't do this. If you're planning to use this option, rethink it and do one of the others. I guarantee you more people will want to read your fic.)

Sometimes added on to any other summary as a strange disclaimer. (srsly. don't.)

Option 8 - The Unapology:

Embrace the mayhem, embrace the deep dark depths of your soul. The opposite of The Pre-emptive Strike. A combination of The No Frills and The Trope Lure that truly gives no fucks.

You have committed crimes and you are proud of them. You know what your USP is and you're going to make sure your target market finds you. Look upon my works, ye readers, and despair!

Example: "There aren't enough tentacle fics in this pairing, so I had to write one myself!"

Best used for fics with controversial/polarising tropes with all relevant details already clearly stated in the tags.

Option 9 - The Interrogation:

What if you wrote a summary entirely in questions? What if your readers had to read the fic to discover the answers? Who knows what will happen if you do this?

Example: "What happens when Blorbo McBlorbo gets his wish and Daisy doesn't make it to the plane on time? What happens when Obrolb finds out? How will this change Daisy and Blorbo's friendship?"

Best used for... I honestly don't know. This style of summary does not vibe with me. Mystery fic maybe? Sorry guys.

Option 10 - The Multipack:

Got a bunch of shorter fics in one work? No way of summarising them all without a wall of text larger than the Great Wall of China? This one is similar to The No Frills in that you're not describing the plots themselves and similar to The Trope Lure in that often broader genres and tropes are mentioned. What links those fics? Are they all in the same fandom? The same pairing? The same challenge? Just slap that right in the summary. A chapter list with 1-2 word trope/pairing summaries can be included or not.

Example: "A collection of Blorbo/Daisy/Obrolb fics based on Tumblr prompts. Chapter 1: Regency AU Chapter 2: Werewolves vs vampires Chapter 3: Ghost!Daisy Chapter 4: Space pirates!"

Best used for (obviously) works that are compilations of fic.

Option ? - The Void:

I said The Excerpt was the quickest and easiest summary to do. I lied, well... I didn't exactly lie. What is quicker and easier than not having a summary at all? After all, that's what the tags are for.

Example:

Best used for... nothing? Write a summary, guys. Please?

[aingeal98]

I think there's a misconception among some fans who mostly get their characterisation from ao3, that the reason Cass and Jason wouldn't get along is that Jason kills people and Cass hates murderers. And like. You're 50% right but the key context being ignored is that Cass would literally fight to defend the right of a serial killer to live and change like she believes desperately in second chances no matter how far gone the killer is. She'll knock a man out and break his hand so that he can never shoot and kill someone again but if she sees someone feel bad about their kill or even like. Hesitate to hurt a child. She is all over that like she will fight the world just to save this one kind of shitty assassin and give them a second chance at life where they can do better.

Whereas Jason believes that sometimes there are bad people that are simply too far gone, too much of a force of evil hurting and draining actual innocents. And the best way to deal with scumbags like that is a bullet. He feels that some people don't deserve to live, and he's comfortable ending their lives. Judge, jury and executioner. Because no one else is going to kill these people and they deserve to die so that they can never hurt any victims again.

Of course all of this is kind of irrelevant in current canon since dc basically skipped over the reconciliation and development and went yeah Jason is a batfam member and he doesn't kill anymore. So currently in canon none of this conflict of ideals is likely to be addressed. But a lot of people are interested in writing fics that actually detail the steps of reconciliation which is great and I love those fics. I've just also noticed a trend of fumbling a little when it comes to Cass.

Because the root cause as to why they wouldn't get along is not just because Jason kills people. If Jason was a random crime lord Cass would probably try to help him get free of Gotham and start over somewhere else. Killing people and having conflicting emotions about it is the easiest way to get Cass willing to be your number one sponsor at murderer rehabilitation anonymous. It's Jason being someone personal to the family, and someone who believes that some deaths need to happen, as long as the person is sufficiently repulsive enough to Jason. Or even just as a means to an end to prove a larger point, if they're pathetic and evil enough. That's what would make Cass see red, because she projects herself on every single killer and Jason dismissing the possibility of redemption for them, writing them off as deserving of death, clashes fundamentally with not just everything Cass believes in, but also her whole sense of self. Of course it's not that deep for Jason like he's not going to believe Cass should die because she killed someone as a child. But for Cass is simply IS that deep and you throw in the fact that they're both Bruce's kids and yeah. They can maybe be civil in a room together with the family right up until one of them actually talks. Because like 99% of what they could say is guaranteed to touch a nerve for the other.

It's like: Damian says something hilarious and rude towards Jason and Jason jokes about that time he shot him and Cass immediately connects that with him not feeling bad about shooting Damian and starts grilling him as to why. Because Damian's Bruce's son? Or because he's a killer? Or just to get to the rest of the family? And Dick, Duke and Tim are so tired like Alfred cooked a nice meal can we all just eat pie for one night without having to listen to you two go at it.

Tim: I've literally shot you before do you think maybe we can cool it on fighting about Jason's personal ethics tonight. Because generally that ends with me in pain even if I do nothing but sit here.

Cass: You shot me with consent. Different.

Jason: How are you even more obnoxious than Bruce? Do you ever get tired of being so exhausting to be around with your bullshit righteousness?

Cass: If you're tired I can knock you out. Nice nap for you and fun for me.

Dick: And that's ten minutes in a room together before any threats of physical harm start flying around! Great job you two, a new personal record.

[clockwayswrites]

Bleeding Out, Bleeding In - the Start

This is the start of the resulting fic from the winning poll option of 'Crime Boss is a Dangerous Job'. And boy did it go places.

A solid 40 of you wanted to wait for ao3, but the other 59 are feral gremlins who want a part now! Those who want to wait, don't feel pressured to read. This might be up on ao3 this week or if not then next week! (Yes, that doesn't add up to 100, one vote is me so I can see the poll results.)

wc: 1059 Content Warnings: canon typical violence, blood, blood drinking, mentions of death and dying, brief mentions of human tracking, so much cussing.

-

Brainless motherfuckers.

Every single one of them, brainless motherfuckers.

One would think that eight heads in a duffel bag would have been enough.

One would think that people would learn his fucking rules. They were easy rules. Don’t hurt kids. Don’t sell to kids. Don’t hurt sex workers. Don’t traffic people. Don’t fuck with him.

And these motherfuckers had fucked with him. They had fucked with his rules.

Red Hood stared down at the lifeless eyes of the traitorous lieutenant.

Ex-lieutenant.

Brainless motherfucker.

Hood was insulted that someone that incompetent had managed to make him bleed, even if it had been eleven against one. And fuck if he wasn’t bleeding badly. Hood pressed his hand tighter to his wound with a hiss and let himself slump back against the grimy wall of the ally that he had slunk into. His hand became wet with warmth.

He must have already bled through the hasty field bandage that he had slapped on the wound.

Numbers slipped through Red Hood’s foggy mind as he tried to calculate about just how bad of a fact that was— about how heavily he must be bleeding out. Fuck if he wasn’t bleeding out.

Could he make it to his safe house in time? No. Could someone make it to him in time? Maybe, but who could he call? He wasn’t going to turn around and let another lieutenant stab him in the other side. B— maybe it would be better to just bleed out than deal with B and another lecture. As if this hadn’t been in self defense. As if he hadn’t acted to stop kids from being sold. As if a moment of hesitancy about killing a man he’d been working closely with for a year had been what got Hood in this spot.

And Dick was off world.

Dick was always off world when he needed him.

That wasn’t fair. What did Dick owe him? It’s not like they had ever been family. Dick had never wanted him. The last person who had wanted him didn’t even want him enough to stay sober.

Blood loss made him maudlin, apparently.

Dying by explosion had been easier.

“You know, not what I expected to find dumpster diving tonight.”

Hood’s hand dropped to brush over the grip of his gun. It was up and aimed before his head even had time to lull towards the voice. The hand holding the gun was steady even as his vision swam staring down the sight.

“Not that I’m doubting you can use that, Boss, but would rather you didn’t,” the stranger said, hands up in the air. One large duffel sat at their feet. Another smaller duffel was slung over their back. A hoodie at least three sizes too big swamped the slim figure— hiding both their form and face. The steel toed boots looked comically large at the end of stick thin legs.

Hood knew better than to think they weren’t a threat.

Anyone could be a threat in Gotham.

“Really, Boss, I’m just out here dumpster diving for supplies,” they continued, motioning to the warehouse district around them. “Not going to lie and say I won’t happily loot your corpse if you keel over right there, but would rather you stay breathing. I can help with that, if you let me.”

“And if I say no?” Hood asked, his voice a breathless rasp even through the modulation of the helmet.

“If you say no to the help, I’ll just be on my way. There are other dumpsters to go through like the feral raccoon that I am.”

His arm dropped down to hang limply at his side. He didn’t take his finger off the trigger. He shouldn’t trust this stranger. “Look more like a street rat to me.”

“We’ll compromise to possum then,” they said, slowly lowering their arms.

He shouldn’t trust this stranger. Did it mater if he did?

He was bleeding out.

The gun slotted back into its holster.

“There you are Boss, we’ll get you patched back up.”

Hood blinked. They were tucking themselves under his shoulder, leaning him up off the warehouse wall.

Hood blinked. They were disabling security on a heavy, cast iron door set into a concrete floor.

Hood blinked.

“Not going to lie, Boss, you’re in a bad way.” The words were distant— like listening to them through a thick wall. Static ran under the words. Static that burrowed under his skin and into his blood.

Static that burned at a part of him he tried to ignore.

“Think they got something pretty vital with that knife.”

He didn’t want to burn.

“Stitched you up but…”

He didn’t want to die.

“Oh Boss.”

Not again.

“I know, Boss.”

A cold hand brushed over his temple and he couldn’t hold back the whine at the sensation. He strained to arch up into the touch. He wanted it. He wanted to feel. He didn’t want to slip away again. He didn’t want that void of death. He didn’t want to die again.

The voice shushed him. “I know.”

He trembled. The static sang in his veins.

“There’s something I can try, Boss, but it will change thing.”

Things were always changing.

“Not like this. You’re not on the knife’s edge yet. You’re still living. If you die you right now you tip over to the other side.”

He’d done that before.

“I know, Boss. But if we do this, you’re not going to tip over anymore, you’re going to balance on that knife’s edge. Not dead but not alive. It’s a fine line to walk.”

Everything in his life was a tightrope: hero, villain; son, enemy; brother, stranger. What was one more thing? Alive, dead.

He didn’t want to be dead again.

“Okay, Boss, okay.”

The hand pulled a whine from his throat as it moved away. A soft coo hushed him quiet again. The sound rumbled in with the static untill the soothing noise sat inside him.

His head tilted up as something slid under his neck. Hands guided his head to lay back down onto a soft surface.

Something wet dripped against his lips. Spice bloomed across his tongue.

“There you go, Boss,” the voice soothed. The coo rumbled in his chest like a fluttering bird. “Drink up.”

Cold skin and wet warmth pressed against his lips.

Jason drank.

[olderthannetfic]

why do some popular things have such small fandoms, in your opinion? like, John Wick is incredibly popular but has less than 2k fics on ao3 and there doesn't seem to be a big fandom presence on tumblr. there's shows with 10+ seasons that have incredibly small fandoms as well.

i know not every fandom is going to be, say, Harry Potter or Supernatural levels (especially if it's an older show and fics have been lost to time- i've heard ER lost quite a lot) but it's just... odd to me, i guess.

--

The majority of things don't get fanfic fandoms.

There are some trends though. Certain genres are more likely to generate them than others. SFF is pretty likely. Crime dramas are reasonably likely, whether that's people slashing buddy cops on AO3 or lead canon het on FFN.

Incomplete-feeling canons are a bit more likely, usually due to plot holes or a crappy ending that people want to fix—but not so crappy that everyone just gives up in disgust.

Relatedly, things where the art part isn't too intimidating are more likely than ones where the big draw is that author's exact way of writing or the fantastically subtle and moving acting in some arty movie about social issues.

Serial media are way, way more likely to generate a fic fandom than one-offs, and having a certain number of hiatuses but not ones that are too long helps. You want some gaps where people have time to make stuff before it's instantly jossed, but you do need new canon to reinvigorate a fandom periodically.

Things just being well known by lots of people does help relative to a similar canon that few people saw, but exact audience size isn't the main factor.

Some tasty character dynamics help a lot. Maybe shippy, maybe more found family. A world that people want to play more with also helps. Even the gen-focused fandoms tend to care a lot about the latter two. They don't just write about any old canon. There have to be certain hooks.

--

John Wick does seem like it fits some of the standard criteria. There's more than one movie. It's fun, dumb genre stuff, not super high art.

TBH, having more than like 5 fics already means it's a success as a fic fandom, so part of it is just your frame of reference. I know you say you don't expect HP, but you should be expecting the norm to be way under 100 fics, not nearly 2k. That's part of it.

But I suspect the big reason is that a lot of people find the films relatively complete as-is.

They're set in the real world (-ish), so the setting isn't that interesting to explore with a bunch of OCs in the way that people write their own HP or Naruto casts. People like the lead, but I don't think they fixate on his relationships to other characters. (Checking AO3, it looks like some people are writing basically John/self, which makes sense.)

For much of the audience, it's all about watching him use a lot of guns. So many guns. All of the guns.

Once the big screen spectacle is done, I don't know that people really want more unless it's more action movies with more visual awesomeness.

IDK, I don't think I've seen any of these beyond some clips, so maybe I'm missing something.

[rollercoasterwords]

i think a fun way to cause chaos in the marauders fandom would be 2 start posting about a new ship that's called "____flower" like "starflower" or "flowerchaser" or "moonflower" or "braveflower" or something where it could be like 16 different pairings and then every time someone asks tell them it's a different pairing but also hype it up so much that people can't ignore it so within 2 days everyone is posting about "braveflower" but everybody posting abt it thinks it's a different ship so people start arguing over who's right and going "ummmm no actually it's THESE characters" and then somebody else is like "wait i thought it was these characters." people go to the ao3 tags to try to figure it out but i have anonymously posted 20 different oneshots with the tag all of which are different pairings so nobody knows. everyone is trying to figure out where tf this ship came from but because it's now such a tangled internet web it's almost impossible to figure out who started posting abt it. people are getting angry and cancelling each other if they ship different versions of braveflower and claiming that their ship is morally superior bc someone else's characters are sibling-coded so it's incestuous but that person says oh yeah well your characters have a three-year age gap and that's problematic and then someone else is like ummmmm ur characters hated each other in canon so it doesn't even make sense and then everyone gets mad at that person for citing canon and it becomes such a cesspool of infighting that nobody's even trying to figure out what the ship was actually supposed to be any more they're all just arguing with each other and writing call-out posts cancelling anyone who doesn't ship their version of braveflower. after three days the entire portion of the fandom that uses fancy shipnames is in shambles but a few intrepid souls emerge from the rubble and wreckage determined to figure out where this all started. they eventually manage 2 trace the whole thing back 2 rollercoasterwords.tumblr.com but by the time they get here my blog has been completely wiped. it's gone. deleted. i'm a ghost in the wind. my ao3 fics? also gone. it's like i never existed at all. but every day the number of braveflower fics goes up. someone keeps anonymously posting them. every single one is a different pairing. who's doing it? nobody knows. nobody will ever know. the perfect crime.

[medusapelagia]

A Magnet For Trouble: CH 1 Are you looking for trouble?

First of all.... Happy Stranger Things Day to everyone!

To celebrate I did one of those things that only I can do... which is... writing a prequel spin-off of my own fic Steddie BB fic XD Getting To Know You (Again)! Is it crazy? Definitely! Did I have fun? A LOT!

That's why I'm super happy to announce that the first chapter of A Magnet For Trouble is finally here!!!!

Thank you thank you thank you to my super talented artist @akichania who did such an amazing job and I can't wait for everyone to see! You can find the first art they did HERE!!!

And a big thank you to my beta @ghostdeb who is an incredible beta!

Another thank you to the @billybigbang2024 mods and the entire Billy BB server...

... and here we go!

TW: gun violence, teenager death Rating: E

Read here on AO3

The air is thick with steam when Jason finally steps out of  the shower. He’s alone, his coworkers long gone to drink themselves stupid after the particularly hard day they’ve all endured. They asked him if he wanted to join, but he is still trying to shake the lingering effects of his final call of the day. A code 10-13 with a fifteen-year-old threatening a seven-eleven owner, ending in the worst way possible. Blood was shed and the kid - because that’s what he was, after all - ended up in the morgue  with the coroner.

Fuck.

On  days like this, Jason regrets having decided to join the police force. Shooting kids wasn’t exactly what he signed up for. He was lucky enough today not to have been  the one doing the shooting, but still, the empty eyes of that kid will haunt him for days. If he breathes deep enough he can still smell the gunpowder in the air, even after having just showered.

He yanks  the door of his locker open and the sound of metal slamming against itself reverberates through  the empty room.

Fuck.

He can’t stop thinking about the kid. Just fifteen  years old, no father, a mother who works three jobs, two little siblings, and not enough money to feed them all. Just a number in the crime statistics among young individuals that will leave a big hole in his family's heart. Jason was the one who had to give the news to the boy’s mother, a lovely woman with a toddler in her arms and another kid behind her legs. She just saw Jason’s face and whispered “I knew it would happen,” even before Jason said anything.

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

His damp hair drips onto the  shoulders of his  white tank top. His mobile phone starts to buzz while he’s tying his laces. It’s Chrissy, his cousin.

Jason holds the phone in his hand briefly before hitting the green button and answering the call.

“Hard shift?” A sweet female voice asks before he has the time to reply.

“Yeah.” Awful. But he doesn’t want to dump all his problems on her, so Jason takes a big breath before adding, “Sorry if I didn’t call. I don’t think I’ll make it.”

“Don’t worry about that. Robin and I were just leaving. Do you want to stay at ours?”

It would not be the first time that he slept  at his cousin’s place after a hard shift, but tonight the girls are celebrating Robin’s promotion and Jason really doesn’t want to ruin the mood, so he responds softly, “No, I’m very tired. I’m going to bed.”

“Jason…”

“I promise. I’m going to bed,” he  insists, grabbing his bag and closing his locker before leaving the station, phone propped between his  shoulder and ear while he fishes for his car key in the back pocket of his jeans.

“Call me if you need anything. Ok? Anything at all.”

Jason smiles, Chrissy is a few months younger than him, but she’s always looking out for him and that’s the sweetest thing ever, especially after their parents kicked  them out of their homes.

He shivers for a moment, remembering a cold voice calling him “ Church boy ” and the keys fall on the ground.

“Fuck.”

“Jason? Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, just dropped my keys. I have to go, Chris, but I’m fine. I promise.”

Chrissy doesn’t seem convinced when she says her goodbyes and closes the call.

Jason kneels on the sidewalk and gets the keys from under the car, puts his bag in the trunk, and then drives toward his place, looking absent-mindedly at the colorful neon bar signs lining the street until one catches his attention: The HideOut. 

He stops the car, trying to remember the name of the previous bar that was there, until someone starts to blow the horn at him. Putting the car in drive he reminds himself that he should go home, that he already had an awful day, and that the last thing he needs is to get drunk in a seedy bar, but before he can finish these thoughts he’s already parking and getting out of the car. The policeman takes a good look at the people in line, all of whom  are young and loud, and he feels so out of place with his white polo and his washed jeans.  He gets in line nevertheless, ready to be removed by the bouncer, but the big man at the door gives him a good look and then tilts his head toward the door.

Inside, the music is low and the strobe lights make him nauseous, but that's exactly what Jason needs to escape from his thoughts. The crowd pushes him from every side while he tries to get to the bar so he can order a beer, nothing too fancy, just something to help him calm down a bit.

A huge pride flag on the wall tells him what he needs to know about the place, and he finally relaxes a bit looking at men and women kissing under the vibrant lights. The place smells of sweat and cheap perfume and the ground is sticky, and still, this is the best place he could hope to be right now.

He turns to look at the crowd, and a beautiful blond-haired man dancing in the middle of the dance floor catches his attention. He wears an open red shirt and his wide chest is covered in tattoos and glitter. He dances like he has fire inside him.

“That’s Billy,”  a voice behind him says, and when Jason turns the Mexican young man who took his order is smiling at him, “He’s trouble. Are you looking for trouble?” 

Jason shakes his head — he has had enough trouble for a lifetime. 

“Well in that case stay away from him, huh?” the man smiles at him, offering another beer Jason had not yet ordered, “It’s on the house. You look like you need it,” the man says with a wink, before moving to serve another customer.

Jason continues to drink his beer, his eyes pinned on the stunning man, and for a moment their eyes meet above the crowd. It’s just a moment, but Jason shivers, his grip on the bottle of beer tightening as he feels the cold of the glass and the drops of condensation dripping around his fingers.

He shakes his head, drains the remaining beer, and goes toward the bathroom so he can  wash his face and calm down. 

The bathroom is covered in colorful writing. There are a few Sharpies on a little table on the side for anyone who wants to leave a sign of their passage on the wall. There are doodles, names, and dates.

“What’s a preppy boy like you doing in a place like this?”

The voice is warm and thick, and Jason has to suppress a moment of disappointment when he sees that the man behind him isn’t the blond dancer but a tall man with a mustache.

“Going to the bathroom?” Jason replies, turning his back and starting to wash his hands.

“All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy,” the man mocks him, pressing against Jason’s back.

“Listen, I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but you need to stop it right now.”

“Come on, doll, don’t tell me you’re not here for some fun. With those plump lips… I’m sure they would be perfect around my dick,” the man insists, pushing his erection against Jason’s ass.

He’s not the tallest cop ever, but he’s been well-trained to disarm people and he’s not going to let this dickhead grope him in a fucking bathroom. He  turns like a snake and pushes hard enough against his assailant’s chest that the man falls on his ass.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” Jason growls.

“Who the hell do you think you are? You’re just a fucking whore like all the others!” The man yells, getting ready to fight, and Jason is more than willing to fight back when another voice interrupts them.

“What the fuck is going on?” 

And this time Jason’s heart starts to beat faster while he stares at the sweat-slick face of the blonde dancer who caught his attention on the dance floor.

“Billy, this whore…”

“I’m not a whore!” Jason yells, “And I’m not going to suck your dick, so go find someone else!”

“Calm down, tiger.” Billy replies, laughing, “Robert here was just joking, weren’t you, Rob?”

Robert glares at Jason but after a long moment of silence, he nods, taking the hand that the blond tattooed man offers him, helping him get up.

“Good.” Billy replies with a smile before he turns toward Jason and his smile fades a little, “Come with me.” 

Something inside Jason hurts. He feels ashamed and hurt. Did he already fuck up? Yeah, that’s not surprising. After all, Jason was always a big disappointment.

“Hurry up.” The blond dancer insists, and Jason follows him like a loyal dog.

The crowd seems to part to let the blond man pass through, and after a few steps Jason finds himself back at the bar.

“Hey Argyle, can we have two bottles of water?” Billy asks with a smile. 

Jason frowns. He  doesn’t want any stupid water, he wants to drink away all the memories of his shitty night, but the blond man - Billy, he reminds himself - is holding his wrist and dragging him toward a quieter corner. He plops down onto a fake leather couch and drags Jason along with him.

“I’m Billy,” he says, offering him one of the plastic bottles, “what’s your name?”

“Jason.”

“The Lord is salvation. Are you religious?”

“My parents are.”

Billy nods, sipping some cold water and Jason stares, enchanted as he watches  Billy’s pink lips and the gentle bobbing of his Adam’s apple as he sips from his bottle of  water.

“You have a crucifix,” Billy observes, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Jason lowers his eyes to his own chest where a little golden cross is half hidden behind his polo.

“Yeah. Wearing it has become more of a habit at this point.” Jason replies, hiding the necklace under his polo.

“I’m sorry for Robert, he drank too much, but I can totally see why he approached you.” Billy snorts, drinking more water and gesturing to Jason to do the same.

“I’m fine.” 

“It’s important to keep hydrated.” Billy insists, his mesmerizing blue eyes pinned on Jason. To  avoid his scrutiny, Jason cracks the bottle open and sips some water.

“Good boy.” Billy smiles at him and Jason feels something warm blooming in his stomach. 

He turns his head toward the dance floor to avoid Billy’s stare.

“You don’t look like the kind of guy who likes  to dance,” Billy comments, “Are you here with someone?”

“No.”

“So what brings a pious boy like you to the HideOut?”

Jason could be offended, could reply with some snarky comment, could lie. But instead it’s  the truth that comes out of his mouth while the other man seems to read into his soul.

“I had a bad shift. A very bad one. And I just needed to forget about it.” He replies, gulping down the bottle of water, wishing it was vodka.

“Paramedic?”

“Policeman.”

Billy nods quietly. He doesn’t ask about Jason’s shift and he doesn’t make any obvious comments.

“My father was a policeman too,” He quietly states, “it’s the kind of job that can kill you. In more ways than what most  people think.”

Jason nods; it’s a dangerous job where you can find yourself on the wrong side of a gun, but Jason feels even worse when he’s the one pointing the gun.

“Let’s get some fresh air, huh?” Billy proposes, and without waiting for an answer he intertwines his fingers with Jason’s, guiding him through the maze of sweaty bodies. Someone waves at them, but Billy simply nods and keeps going until they are standing in the cold air of the night in the alley behind the bar, next to a dumpster.

“Better?”

For the first time since he saw that kid holding the gun, Jason can breathe. The smell is far from pleasant but the cold air wakes him like an electric shock.

He nods, looking at Billy’s long fingers as he fishes a lighter and a crumpled pack of cigarettes from his pocket.

The warm glow of the lighter enlightens Billy’s face for a moment and the glitter on his chest shines while Jason stares at the big letters tattooed just under Billy’s clavicles. Even though  some of the letters are covered by his shirt and Jason can’t read the entire sentence, it looks like a statement, but before Jason can ask him any questions Billy quickly closes a couple of buttons.

“Shit. It’s cold out here.” He chuckles, and without even thinking about it the policeman takes off his jacket and puts it on Billy’s shoulder.

“Thanks.”

“Can’t have you freeze to death because of me. Too much paperwork.” Jason jokes, smiling for the first time.

“I knew it. You have a kind smile.”

Jason feels himself blush in the fresh air.

“Billy! Where the fuck are you?” A female voice asks and a brunette peeks from the door, staring at them, “Is there a  problem?” She asks, stepping closer to them.

“I was just grabbing a smoke with Jay,” Billy says, pointing at him with his burning cigarette.

“Jay, huh?” The woman asks before shaking Jason’s hand, “I’m Heather, Billy’s partner.”

Jason's smile dies on his lips while Billy chuckles, “She’s my business partner,” Billy explains, “but she’s really possessive of me, as you can see.”

“You still owe me half of this month's rent, shithead.” She growls, before turning toward Jason, “Isn’t he too pious for your tastes?” she asks, popping her gum.

Billy winks, “Maybe.” He replies with a smirk before turning toward Jason again, “My carriage awaits” he says, pointing at the brunette, “I have a long appointment tomorrow. Are you going to be ok? I can call you an Uber if you need it,” Billy says, scrutinizing Jason’s expression .

“I’m fine. I’ll be ok. Thanks,” Jason replies with a nod. 

Billy studies him for a moment and then nods, “Great.” he replies, stomping out his cigarette and giving Jason’s jacket back. 

For a moment their fingers brush and Jason shivers as he takes back the jacket, “I’ll see you around,” Billy says with a wink before disappearing back into the club, leaving Jason flustered and confused.

“See you around,” he says to no one, before walking back to his car, still feeling the warm sensation of Billy’s fingertips on his skin.

***

A one-to-one mandatory counseling session for the next two months and a couple of weeks of suspension, that’s what Jason earned for doing his fucking job. He was too slow, his partner complained, he hesitated and almost compromised his partner's safety. And now he’s suspended. Well not really suspended, because he didn’t do anything wrong, but he’s on a mandatory paid leave for a couple of weeks. To make matters worse, he  has a weekly mandatory session with the fucking therapist, a nice woman who wants him to talk about his feelings even though the woman has never held a gun in her manicured hands.

She told him that union rules dictate that he’s provided with time to relax and process what happened so he can  come back with a clearer mind, or so they pretended. Jason saw the way his partner glared at him when he got out of each weekly  session. He knew. Everyone at the fucking station knew. Fuck them all. Was he really supposed to shoot a teenager in the face without even trying to de-escalate the situation?

That’s not what he signed up for.

The point is that Jason hasn’t mentioned that he’s been suspended to Chrissy, so now he’s trying his best to pretend he’s still busy with work even when he definitely isn’t. But  there’s a limit to the number of silly romantic comedies he can watch on Netflix before he loses his mind.

It’s Saturday night, one of the nights Jason hates most when he’s on duty because they always mean trouble, but staying at home watching television isn’t helping. The policeman grabs his phone, wondering if he should just call Chrissy and head over to her place so they can  watch a movie and drink some of the expensive champagne Robin’s brother brought. 

The guy — Steve —   isn’t really Robin’s brother, but there’s no doubt they are attached at  the hip and that he’s very protective of her. Steve insisted on meeting Chrissy’s family, which basically means Jason, before letting Robin move in with Chrissy. It was sweet. Strange,  but sweet. Maybe he should call Steve — he seems like  the kind of guy who knows how to have fun. 

Scrolling his phone, he sees on the HideOut’s Instagram page that they are hosting a party to celebrate their first birthday. Argyle, the barman, has prepared two new cocktails to celebrate the night: the Upside Down and the Right Side Up. In the Instagram stories, Billy is smiling while sipping a blue and red cocktail that’s apparently called the Upside Down.

For a moment Jason wonders if he should go to the club. He had fun last time after all, and it definitely wasn’t just because he met a beautiful man who is conveniently still haunting his dreams. He shakes his head. There’s no point in going there —  he doesn’t know anyone, the club will be packed, Billy will have forgotten about him by now, and- 

Jason’s finger slips and sends a heart reaction to one of Billy’s pictures. 

He freezes, trying to delete the reaction before anyone sees it, but before he can make a coherent thought he gets a notification: 

Coming  to join the party?

Jason might not know the screen name  of the person who is writing to him, but he definitely knows the blond man in the picture, so after long deliberation, he types back:

It looks like a private party.

It’s not. Move your ass and come. You still owe me a drink. I offered you one last time.

Water. You offered me a bottle of water.

Still something to drink. I’ll wait for you, but not for long ;)

Jason stares at his phone, still unsure. He’s known he’s gay since he was a kid, and even though that’s the main  reason he and Chrissy were kicked out as soon as they graduated, he hasn’t really had a relationship since they moved and he feels unsure of himself. His flirting skills are rusty and no one at the police station knows about his sexual proclivities. He knows he would definitely prefer to keep it that way. For a moment he holds the crucifix he has around his neck, finding comfort in the warm metal that’s always on his chest.

It’s not true that he’s not religious, but his relationship with religion has changed a lot since the first time he kissed a boy in the high school locker room  after basketball practice. 

For a moment he thinks about his cousin and how happy she is now that she finally found a girl she loves. He takes one last look at the picture of the tattooed man with the cocktail in one hand and the other raised above his head.  He looks longingly at Billy’s face turned to one side, his mouth open, maybe singing, and makes his decision: he grabs his jacket and his car keys  and starts out  toward the club. 

*** 

As expected, the street in front of the club is crowded with  people, but  what he wasn’t expecting was that Heather, the brunette he met the other night, would be there  waving at him and getting him inside the club ahead of  the long line.

Once inside, the loud music and the lights overwhelm Jason for a moment, and he shields his eyes with one hand. That’s when he sees him: this time Billy is dancing on an elevated  stage. He’s wearing a mesh black shirt and a pair of very tight black jeans that hug him perfectly while he runs his fingers through his blond curls.

“Don’t drool on me, church boy.” Heather chuckles, pushing him toward the stage.

Jason glares at her, offended. This time he’s wearing a black designer t-shirt emblazoned with a skull that Steve bought him for his birthday, and a pair of blue jeans. Not a church boy, but still a far cry from Billy's style. The people around him move to the beat  of the music, but Jason’s eyes are locked on the beautiful man dancing on the stage. When Billy finally turns toward him, almost as if  he could feel Jason’s eyes on him, he smiles at him. A big bright smile that makes Jason smile back like a fucking idiot. With a graceful leap, Billy gets off the stage right  in front of Jason.

“Are you gonna offer me something to drink?” He almost screams in Jason’s ear to overcome the loud music, and Jason nods while, once again, Billy intertwines his fingers with Jason’s and drags him toward the bar where Argyle is busy pouring the cocktail he created to celebrate the event.  When  Argyle  sees Billy he gets a couple of glass bottles from the back. Jason frowns, confused, but pays what Argyle asks him and when he sips the cocktail he’s surprised to find out that there’s no alcohol in it.

"Alcohol-free?" He asks, confused.

“I have been sober for three years, not gonna fuck up now, you know?” Billy replies, studying Jason's reaction, but Jason simply nods in agreement.

“Three years is a long time. Congratulations.” He says in Billy’s ear, cupping his hand around his mouth and brushing his fingers against the shell of Billy’s ear.

“I knew I liked you.” Billy winks, before dragging Jason back out to the dance floor.

Jason doesn’t dance. He doesn’t go clubbing. He doesn't hook up with random men who just admitted being alcoholics. If Chrissy could see him, she would not believe her eyes.

They drink their cocktails, leave the glasses on the bar, and then jump right back out to the dance floor.

Jason’s far from being the best dancer, but he’s doing his best, and honestly having Billy so close to him —  sensually moving around him, rubbing his legs against Jason’s — is enough to  make him shiver from the friction and proximity. And then he moves away, but always stays close enough  that they can breathe the same air.

They both have blue eyes, but Jason’s are calm and quiet like the blue water of a swimming pool, while Billy’s are deep like the ocean and bode of storms and mermaid songs. Jason can’t resist either.

When the song changes to a slower tempo and all the couples hug each other and start to sway  gently, they stare at each other, embarrassed.

“May I have this dance?” Billy asks, offering Jason his hand, and when Jason nods he holds him tight. Billy’s body is a little damp and smells of a mix of sweat and cologne and his heart beats so fast that Jason can feel it pumping between them. Or maybe it's Jason's heart beating so loudly to fill the entire room. It doesn’t really matter. Billy’s lips are on Jason’s ear when he whispers, “Can I kiss you?”

Jason nods, it’s almost imperceptible, but it’s enough for Billy to gently tilt his face until they are facing one another and put a soft kiss on his pink lips. It’s just a peck, the same kind of kiss Jason gave to Lawrence in freshman year, but the effect is so much different. Billy keeps holding his chin, staring into his eyes like he was searching for something. And he might find it because the next thing Jason knows is that those hot lips are back on his, while a curious tongue is asking for permission to enter and he grants him immediately, opening his mouth and letting Billy explore and taste everywhere he likes.

The music changes again, another fast song, but they are still kissing as if  time had stopped at that very moment. Billy’s body is warm and soft around him, like a fluff blanket, and Jason lets himself be held for the first time in a long time. Held like that, he doesn’t feel shame or guilt, he feels seen and cherished like a precious possession.

When the kiss ends, for a tiny little moment their mouths remain connected by a little thread of spit that breaks when Billy’s tongue darts. “Strawberries and peaches.” he says, and Jason stares at him in confusion before understanding that Billy is referring to the alcohol-free cocktails they just drunk, “So much better than vodka or whisky.” He winks.

Jason doesn’t reply, he feels like all his words have been swallowed up by Billy’s mouth and all he has left is a fuzzy brain and a pleasant warmth spreading in his stomach.

“You ok? Did I go too far?” Billy asks, unsure for the first time, and Jason is quick to smash his lips against Billy’s. He might not have words or thoughts at this moment but his body knows what he wants. They bump into another dancing couple that loudly complains, but they don’t care. Pushing their way through the sweaty bodies they get to the opposite side of the room and Jason pins Billy to the wall, grabbing his wrists and holding them over his head while he keeps exploring and tasting until he feels they are one being.

“Should have known you’re stronger than you look.” Billy chuckles, breathing in some air.

“Policeman,” Jason replies, before starting to kiss him again.

“Do you want to move this party to somewhere quieter?” Billy asks once Jason releases his wrists.

The policeman nods eagerly and Billy smirks, tugging a lock of hair behind Jason’s ear, “Let’s get out of here, huh?” He suggests, and then he guides Jason out of the club, waving  at Heather as they leave. .

“My place is nearby.” He tells him, grabbing their jackets from the cloakroom, “Is that ok?”

Definitely better than some seedy motel, but-

“Are you sure?” Jason asks, “You don’t even know me.”

Billy pinches Jason’s chin, turning his face toward him, “I am. Are you?”

Jason gulps. He is. He wants Billy more than anything in the world. He wants his hands, his mouth, his dick.

Once outside, the fresh air helps clear Jason’s mind but it doesn’t affect his desire. He’s already hard and the lust in his eyes must be obvious because Billy grins and chuckles while they run into  the night like teenagers.

[faefaye]

Compatibilism

Shinkane Week 2024, Day 3: Space

Summary:

Soulmates, an inexplicable bond between two people known by how they share each other's pain. Under the Sybil System, it's an outdated concept, but that alone cannot stop the universe from working its ways. In such a world, Akane Tsunemori finds herself connected to a troublesome partner.

Link to the fic on AO3.

Akane is seven years old when she hears the word “soulmate”.

Until then, it’s a thing she knows like air or grass, something that exists but that people don’t talk about or care about.

That day, there was a black cat on the road and a car veering closer.

She doesn’t think before she runs forward, wrapping her arms around the little black thing. She stumbles and falls and just clears the road when the car whooshes behind her, so close yet so far. She lies there. Her body hurts but she feels her heart in her throat more until she hears Grandma’s voice, tight with worry.

A while later, when they’re inside the house and Grandma is washing the scrapes on her arm, she says, “You should take more care of yourself.”

She knows Akane too well to ask questions like “why”. She never shouts or screams either, but something about her tone and the way her hands tremble is enough to make Akane bite her lip, her eyes watering.

“I wanted to save the kitty,” she says weakly.

“That’s a wonderful thing,” Grandma replies after a heavy pause. “But it was very, very dangerous and you could have died. I know you don’t mind getting hurt, A-chan, but it’s not just about you.”

“Huh?” Akane looks at her with wide brown eyes.

“Your parents and I. We feel when you get hurt and we would be very sad if something happened to you. It’s good you want to help everyone. Never lose that, but you shouldn’t forget yourself.” Grandma kisses a bruise. “And maybe your soulmate is out there wondering why they’re getting hurt too,” she says as an afterthought.

Soulmate. She’s a curious child and she gets Grandma to tell her more in the days that follow.

Soulmates share pain, she says, because they’re two halves of the same soul connected through space, resonating with each other. Once upon a time, it was a celebrated event to find that person. But as something that didn’t abide by hues or Crime Coefficients, it became an outdated concept in the era of the Sybil System and the literature publicly available dwindled down to nothing.

As a librarian though, Grandma can beautifully recount several famous tales from history and art. A lot of them are romantic but there are a good number of other ones too.

They’re interesting stories. None of them really stop Akane from running headfirst into matters, for anything and everything that she wants to stand up for, but it does make her think a little about the mysterious someone on the other end of her actions.

---

Akane is eighteen years old when her soulmate becomes a rather persistent matter in her day-to-day life.

In the beginning, she puts down the barely noticeable ache in her limbs to all sorts of reasons—sleep positions, overexertion, cramps. But there are only so many times it could seem unremarkable.

And then one day she almost doubles over in class, saved from the teacher’s attention only due to Yuki and Kaori. She rubs at her sternum to ease the phantom pain and helplessly worries for her soulmate.

The resonance she feels is nowhere as bad as what the actual person goes through and yet it teaches her just how many nerves the human body possesses.

It makes her wonder now and then what her soulmate is really like and what they’re doing. Whenever she feels a little uncharitable about the pain, she reminds herself that it could be part of their job, like being a professional wrestler. She wouldn’t want to stand in the way of anyone’s dreams.

Yeah… she hopes from the bottom of her heart that they’re living a life they sought.

It’s all she can do.

---

Akane is twenty years old when she meets her soulmate.

“Meet” is perhaps a charitable word, because the first sign of any such connection is when she shoots Enforcer Kogami in the back with a paralysing shot and her entire body seizes in response.

She can’t even scream at how her muscles twitch in ways she didn’t think were possible, going on for hours and hours, and his steel-blue eyes lock onto hers all throughout until they’re both crumpled on the floor.

He gets the luck of being unconscious. She wishes time would stop again less painfully so she could unravel what just happened— but there’s something to be done still.

Her memories following that are vague, but she remembers the victim falling over—not dead, not how the Dominator had taken the other life—and Ginoza’s sharp voice.

She gazes at him unseeingly for three seconds, then the world tilts sideways and goes black.

---

Soulmates. Karanomori confirms it when Akane wakes up after hours of unconsciousness. “The effects of the resonance were likely magnified by proximity and attacking your own soulmate,” are her words.

It continues to feel unreal but she watches Kogami train and her own knuckles start to hurt, she learns that he became an Enforcer more than two years ago—when she was eighteen—and there’s no way for her to deny this truth.

It’s clear the entire Division 1 knows but no one brings it up, other than Ginoza with his frequent warnings about not getting too close to her subordinates. Akane is glad society under the Sybil System ignores the concept. Even so…

“What do you think about soulmates, Kogami-san?” She gathers enough courage to ask him once when they’re on the balcony together for a break. It’s the first time either of them have ever brought up the word between them.

He pulls out the cigarette from his mouth and considers her, and she has to fight to stay calm. It’s such a silly thing but with how old-school Kogami is, she wonders how his insight will compare to what she only knows from Grandma.

Grandma, who told her not to think too much about it, but that while there’s no rhyme or rhythm to the connections to human eyes, undoubtedly they’ll meet at least once and have a life-changing influence on each other.

Life-changing is a heavy adjective to imagine with someone she’s known for a few weeks, although they’ve worked on enough incidents together that it feels a lot more.

“Well, for one, I’m sorry you got such a poor roll of the dice.”

“I don’t think so,” she says before she can think. “I’m glad for it.”

He remains still. She doesn’t look away from him. Though it wasn’t intended, she can stand by what she said.

Kogami’s kind words about her first day is the only reason she’s still here, continuing to believe that there is some good she can do. His support and guidance is why she can keep improving herself.

Huh, maybe that itself was life-changing, wasn’t it…?

“I think it doesn’t matter beyond what we make of it. After all, there’s no compulsion in the bond. It exists as a signboard at most,” Kogami answers her question at last, dispelling the awkward silence, then adds teasingly, “Although if it’ll prevent you from shooting me again, I’ll take it.”

She ends up shooting him again, this time to save his life from Ginoza's Lethal Eliminator, this time trembling and hurting as well but managing to stay on her feet.

Later, when they chase Makishima in the factory, she threatens to shoot him and he knows it’s not an idle threat.

The pain binding them has never factored into following their ideals.

---

Akane is still twenty when she parts ways with her soulmate.

When she wakes up among the golden hyper-oats, it's twilight. A drone beeps next to her, scanning her and relaying her location to the team.

As far as she looks, in this field that keeps stretching on, she’s the only figure.

The weeks that follow are a haze of exhaustion, her grief and regret buried in the routine tasks of reports and investigations.

It's only when Ginoza joins them as an Enforcer that she finally permits herself to think back to that day in detail. What did she miss? Where did things go wrong?

…what could she have done differently?

At the end of her musings, she's only left with a sinking feeling that maybe there was no other way. She doesn't believe in fate but this was a destiny carved out by human hands from the beginning, and she can't imagine a universe where they could all be the people they are and have things happen otherwise.

It’s an odd sort of comfort, even if this is an ending she struggles to accept.

---

“At any rate, this is truly goodbye. Whether I survive or die.”

She can’t forget a single word from that unexpected phone call.

Kogami is undoubtedly far away now. Whatever happens to him, the news might never reach Japan.

But she’ll still know.

Signboard indeed, she thinks when the first time after that incident, she feels a familiar pain that is not her own.

She hopes it doesn’t get worse than an ache. She hopes that free from the leash of an Enforcer, he could finally find peace.

More than anything, Akane once again hopes from the bottom of her heart, now knowing the person on the other side, that at least he is living the life he sought.

[montrealmadison]

congrats on hitting 400 followers and thank you for including us in the celebration! um ... I'm choosing zimbits and number 42 and as for general special requests, I would never say no to some hurt/comfort? (I think you have a good sense of the vibes I gravitate toward but you always do that particular trope so well.)

-doggernaut

my darling, i love writing hurt/comfort for you and you really could not have picked a better song. anything for you beyoncé!!

42. zimbits + hurt/comfort + All Night by Beyoncé for @doggernaut

I found the truth beneath your lies And true love never has to hide I’ll trade your broken wings for mine I’ve seen your scars and kissed your crime

Half-awake, the first thing out of Bitty’s mouth is, “We have gotta stop meeting like this.”

Jack’s answering laugh is wrong, comes from too high up. There’s light pouring in through the windows when Bitty blinks—weird, he could have sworn he closed the blinds last night—and when he rolls over, expecting to meet Jack’s face on the opposite pillow, he finds his hip instead.

Bitty’s head hurts, which could really be from anything: lack of sleep, unshed tears, the anticipation of a hangover. “Honey?”

Jack looks down and down at him. From this angle he’s a giant, all sharpness, features starkly out of sync with the glorious summer sunrise. “Morning.”

“Mmph.” The sheets are warm on Bitty’s bare back as he rolls over, yawning. “How long you been awake?”

The fact that Jack doesn't say anything is what finally shocks Bitty back to life.

read more below or on ao3 | request a fic here

This summer has mostly been a dream, because not only does Bitty love living with Jack, he also loves that they're good at it. It's addictive to know that they're compatible this way too, makes the thought of the two of them as partners feel settled and real. He likes the way they work together in the kitchen. He likes the way Jack’s voice carries when he sings in the shower; likes knowing that Jack sings in the shower, period, Patsy Cline and Bob Dylan and once, memorably, Carrie Underwood. He likes snuggling up to watch a movie on the couch and dozing off with Jack’s hands in his hair. Most of all, he likes sharing their bed—sleeps so much better with Jack’s big, warm body beside his. 

There are trade-offs to that, like the fact that he hasn’t spoken to his parents in two weeks. And the fact that he was barely able to enjoy their bed last night because he was pacing the living room rather than disturbing Jack's attempts at meaningful rest. And the fact that Jack is currently watching himself miss the same shot over and over and over again, breathing just this side of too heavy for Bitty’s liking.

It’s five-thirty in the morning on a day that might make or break them, and Bitty’s had enough.

"Jack," he says, some heft in it now. "How long?"

Jack scrubs his hands over his face, glances out the windows and then at the time on his phone. He’s obviously a little surprised to see the sun rising. “Since you went to bed.”

Bitty had finally crawled under the covers to a half-awake and very worried Jack at 2:15. The fact that he'd apparently slept right through Jack's ensuing three-hour self-flagellation session doesn't sit right in his chest at all.

“Okay—uh, okay." He frees a hand from the blankets with exaggerated care and sets it lightly on the top of Jack’s screen. "Well, first things first, sweetpea, this isn’t useful, it’s torture," he says. "Can I?”

He's expecting pushback, but apparently that's all he had to say to break the dam and make the tension drain from Jack’s shoulders. He nods, slow and unwilling. None of that, Bitty thinks. He shuts the laptop firmly, gets up on his elbow, ducks under Jack’s arm to nudge him softly in the ribs.

“Why don't you come down here,” he says, trying to keep his tone light. “You’re real tall up there.”

Jack’s answering laugh sounds brittle, but he does curl down into Bitty's arms. Add that to the ever-growing list of things Bitty's been surprised by: Jack Zimmermann is the little spoon. Bitty pulls him in, watches the sun start to track above the buildings, and thinks about things that are unfair.

The road to hell is paved with a solid game plan. From the minute the Falcs made the conference finals, Jack has been in regular touch with George and the med staff. He's been seeing his therapist weekly. He's been talking to Bitty and his parents, and when they've lost he's been sad, but he hasn't withdrawn the way Bitty might have expected him to.

They've gone through so much together, all of it leading them here. They've negotiated sex and coming out to their friends and fought about who gets to pay for things. There's trust between them in a way that Bitty has never felt before. He'd felt so adult, keeping a secret as big as Jack Zimmermann to himself all school year; now Bitty has a much better sense of the commitment he signed up for. He's had to learn how to talk through a panic attack and which secrets are okay to keep and, most of all, what real love is: all-consuming, disgusting and vulnerable, terrifying in its intensity, and always, always worth it.

“We’re so close,” says Jack unprompted, muffled because he’s speaking into Bitty's collarbone. “I—Bits. We’re so close."

“You are."

It sounds so simple, but Bitty knows it’s not—knows how much is riding on this game, for Jack and for the Falcs and for so many others. He wants to be able to swallow Jack whole, to carve out a warm place inside him and keep Jack safe in it forever. It would be easier than trying to come up with the right thing to say to make this better.

"What if this is it?"

Jack's voice is tiny and terrified. Bitty feels like someone's reached into his chest and cracked his heart open with both hands.

"Say more," he prompts gently. "The end of the series?"

"The—just." Jack breathes out hard. "This is it. If we lose, it's all over. Everyone was right about me. Right?"

Oh, honey. "Jack," Bitty says. "No."

He can't say he doesn't understand the temptation to think that way. Tonight is everything Jack's been working towards for twenty-five years. Tonight's results will be writ large over Jack's entire career. But—

"Tell me if I'm hearing this right?"

Jack squeezes him tighter. "Okay."

"It's going to be the end of something, one way or another." Bitty threads his hands through Jack’s hair and gently works the tangles out of it, the way Jack’s done for him so many times. "And I know that's scary. But it's not the end." 

There's going to be another game, ten games, eighty-two. The people who love Jack, love them both, aren't going anywhere. Once, Bitty believed that the force of his own will had to be enough to convince Jack of its righteousness. Now—well, Jack breathes, pushes up hungrily into Bitty's hands, and Bitty knows that sometimes love means a blind leap into someone else's hands, trusting them to be there when you fall.

"Is that what feels bad right now? That they're gonna—take it all away from you, if tonight doesn't go well?"

Another long breath. Jack's voice is low, low. "Doesn't make as much sense when you say it out loud."

"Well." Bitty shrugs. "That's anxiety, baby."

Jack grunts. "Sucks."

"Yeah," Bitty says, and suddenly they're laughing, all shaken up and nowhere to go. The tension's broken, though, and the line of Jack's shoulders doesn't feel as hard under Bitty's hands, so he allows himself to feel very tentatively pleased.

“No matter what,” he starts to say, and Jack stills again, listening. “No matter what, we are going to be there for you. Your team and your parents and all our friends and me, baby. We’re not going anywhere no matter what happens tonight.”

Bitty's not sure if he's satisfied with that, but Jack murmurs something that sounds like thanks, so. He'll take it for now. 

When the sun has risen too far for them to ignore, Bitty coaxes Jack into the shower and spends a good twenty minutes puttering around the kitchen, meticulously assembling the best pregame PB&J ever concocted by man. It grounds him a little, helps him sink back into his body; things here are still real, are familiar in a way that means something. When Jack emerges from the bedroom around ten, suited up with a game face to match, Bitty's smile takes less effort than before.

“Hey, handsome.” He steps away from the counter and into the warm, willing circle of Jack’s arms. It's glorious when Jack smells expensive like this, new linen and Armani cologne, and Bitty breathes him in appreciatively.

“Hi,” Jack says, quiet but not as brittle as before. “What do you think? You like it?”

“The day I answer no to that question is the day I am dead in the ground.” Bitty twirls the end of Jack’s tie around one finger. “How you feelin’?”

Jack’s breath ruffles Bitty’s hair when he leans down to tuck his nose into it. “Still scared,” he says. “But, uh, good, I think. I don't know. Better than this morning? Thanks for getting me out of my head.”

For the first time, Bitty lets himself imagine what tonight might bring. The fridge is stocked with enough ingredients for at least twelve mourning pies and enough pasta to feed a small army of sad friends; coming home to that is a definite possibility, the only one Bitty has really let himself focus on. But there's a sparkling alternative, dripping in champagne and smothered in laughter, that Bitty knows for a fact Ransom has already made the playlist for. There's a world in which this all goes right. They just have to be brave enough to make it there.

“Things can be scary and good at the same time,” Bitty says into the perfect knot of Jack's tie.

He feels Jack smile; a tiny, hopeful thing. “You’re telling me.”

[aroeddiediaz]

20 questions for fic writers

Tagged by @cal-daisies-and-briars , @jesuiscenseedormir , @diazsdimples

How many works do you have on ao3?

27!

What's your total ao3 word count?

61,537

What fandoms do you write for?

Currently I’m pretty much exclusively a 9-1-1 writer, but in the past I wrote a lot of Flarrowverse (do they still call it that?). I also have published fics for Fantastic Beasts and a few anime (Given, Haikyuu, Saiki K). Given the number of Bnha wips i have locked away in the vault it’s amazing I don’t have anything published for that.

Top 5 fics by kudos:

(I am omitting all the Flarrowverse fics in my top 5 on the basis that they were written in high school and I’ve changed as a person, and they probably only beat out on the numbers due to being up for years longer)

1. Kabe-Do’s and Kabe-Don’ts (Given, 861 kudos)

2. You’re Not Special (Saiki K, 598 kudos)

3. How Eddie Learned To Stop Worrying And Embrace The Kitten Life (9-1-1, 327 kudos)

4. The Boy Formerly Known As Miracle (Haikyuu, 277 kudos)

5. Under The Hood (9-1-1, 275 kudos)

Do you respond to comments?

Yes!! As many as I can!

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

This probably has to be The Crimes of Queenie Goldstein, in which Queenie is put on trial for her actions during the war. Don’t @ me but Queenie turning traitor was bu far the most interesting part of the Crimes of Grindelwald (the only interesting thing, really). There could be such an interesting story between her and Tina if only JKR would let the movies out of her grasp.

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Fuck, idk if I have a happiest ending fic, a lot of them tend to not have that much story arc. (A lot of established relationship fluff or smut lmao). I guess if I had to pick one it would probably be How Eddie Learned To Stop Worrying and Embrace The Kitten Life.

Do you get hate on fics?

Not since that one anti-olicity fic that I wrote while deep in the trenches of Flarrowverse discourse, which I totally deserved :/. I have regrets. Also I should probably orphan/delete that one if I haven’t already. In my defense, high school. I have learned.

Do you write smut?

Yea lol. I think my 9-1-1 stuff has been almost exclusively smut. Idk how it happened. (I do know how it happened smut is fun to write)

Craziest crossover?

I haven’t published any of my crossover fics :( none of them have been complete enough. I have many many unfinished RotBTD wips that have never seen the light of day though.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Who would steal my stuff? Lol

Have you ever had a fic translated?

One time someone offered to translate one of my fics into Russian but idk if that ever actually happened.

Have you co-written a fic before?

Nope

All time favorite ship?

Right now definitely Buddie! Percabeth holds a special place in my heart though <3

What's a wip you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

Ok. After the end of the Heroes of Olympus Series, but before Trials of Apollo was announced, I tried my own hand at writing the sequel that was clearly coming based on all the loose threads in the final book. It was going to be a Solangelo quest to save the Oracle of Delphi from Python, while Akhys tries to poison Percy to turn him into an evil god(?). Half the details have been lost and I desperately want to remember them, because I haven’t attempted anything nearly as cool or ambitious since then. The first 5 chapters are posted on my ao3 (Will Solace and the Oracle’s Cry) and I still think high school me had the most interesting characterization of Will out of everyone else on the internet at the time. Even if it is still very 2015.

What are your writing strengths?

I think I’m good at getting into the heads of different characters. Understanding their motives and weaknesses.

What are your writing weaknesses?

Editing.

Lmao I have a lot of weaknesses but I definitely struggle the most with trying to look back on or change things I’ve already written, even when it’s necessary.

Also my tendency to just drop fics if I stop working on them for too long. Rip to my wip graveyard.

Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

That’s a minefield I’m not willing to play in. Unless it’s Chinese. Very limited amounts of Chinese. Or like, a pet name or phrase that’s already ubiquitous in fandom so I’m not risking anything.

First fandom you wrote in?

Percy Jackson!! That Will Solace quest is the first thing I ever wrote! I definitely had a tendency to jump into the deep end with new hobbies lmao. Like my first ever cosplay that took me 3 years to complete.

Favorite fic you've written?

I think my favorite fic is always going to be the one I’m currently working on writing. But I am very proud of the silly little dramatic ironies in In Hindsight, which I wrote entirely over one long lunch the day after 7x04 broke me. Also I have to shoutout Teacher’s Pet, that one ruler spanking fic nobody ever reads because it’s Eddie/Ana lmao. I enjoyed putting in a bunch of tiny incompatibilities between them. So, uh, I guess my favorite thing in my own writing is dramatic irony?

Tagging: @aspecbuddie @pirrusstuff @jesuisici33 @steadfastsaturnsrings @lemonzestywrites @your-catfish-friend @inkmortal-trash389 @evanbegins s @wildlife4life @eddiebabygirldiaz @epicbuddieficrecs @kitteneddiediaz @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @coatedpanda16 @nicotinewrites @estheticpotaeto @babytrapperdiaz @snowviolettwhite @wikiangela

[intrepidacious]

🍁 september reading ☕️

fall is finally upon us, and thus the season in which i finally return to reading a lot of awesome fics on here, apparently <3

it's been very fun to keep track of all of the reading i'm doing on here for the stardust reading challenge, thank you again @liraketo for this marvellous idea!! i might continue doing something like this in the future. we'll see. until then, enjoy some truly magnificent writings by some amazing authors, and as always remember to heed each fic's warnings!! happy halloween season 🧡

✩ Ransom Drysdale

ink and intimacy by @eloquentreverie

murderer monday by @littlelioncub43

✩ Bucky Barnes

always. by @nickfowlerrr

i loved you in secret by @sinner-as-saint

soft hearts, gentle words by @rookthorne

my first and only by @buckyalpine

a lonely night by @marvelouslizzie

love bites by @fandoms-writings

blood sweat and tears by @treatbuckywkisses

replace me by @/fandoms-writings

heaven on earth by @navybrat817

co-parenting pt. 2 & pt. 3 by @malum-forev

where did the time go? by @/navybrat817

petrichor by @thornsnvultures

as he sees fit by @/navybrat817

sunshine by @imaginearyparties

the rumour (ao3) by @sidepartskinnyjeans

✩ Curtis Everett

the stars don't compare to you by @/eloquentreverie

✩ Eddie Munson

the saddest thing you will ever read by @/thornsnvultures

rockstar!eddie by @aphrogeneias

no more tears by @/aphrogeneias

✩ Sam Wilson

dancing's when i think of you by @targaryenvampireslayer

✩ Steve Rogers

wrong number by @marvelettesassemblenow

maple latte by @sarahwroteathing

apples and cherries by @/sarahwroteathing

behind the picture by @rogerswifesblog

the expedition by @scrumptious-delusion

✩ Jake "Hangman" Seresin

uncle jake and auntie ace by @demxters

motel california by @/demxters

✩ Nick Fowler

partners in crime by @/navybrat817

an easy deal to make by @witchywithwhiskey

✩ Dick Grayson

ready to catch them by @sanguineterrain

✩ Headcanons and misc.

cevans characters and babies by @brandycranby and @ronearoundblindly

cevans characters and being sleep deprived by @/brandycranby

in his name: the heroes by @/brandycranby

in the spirit of magical co-operation (ao3, dramione) by @pellucid-constellations

wait and hope (ao3, dramione) by @mightbewriting

[whochromatic]

I must not read chapter 109 and wait for the chapters to pile up.. I must not read chapter 109 and wait for the chapters to pile up.. I must...

*reads it anyways*

Why did I do that. Damnit, I should've known that reading that chapter would have re-activated my need for more. I was way better off ignoring anything related to Yohaji and just went about my day, not thinking about Yohaji every minute of the hour of the day of the week. But the damage has been done. Now I have to read the whole manga all over again just to satisfy myself once again. But no. That's not enough. I searched every corner to hunt every single content of Yohaji. Tumblr. Twitter. Youtube. Tiktok. Ao3. Our lord and savior Canada's account. The giver of reason in life, one who resurrects the dead, the sailor uniform to my life, Tanamai-sensei's account. I know that the Yohaji content in this world is not enough and will NEVER be. The moment I discovered this manga, I knew that it would be my life. The fact that it had only reached me last year, ber month is unforgivable. Why did it not have content as many as the amount of numbers there are to exist so that it could reach me at the start of it's existence? It should have been Yohaji. Not BNHA! Nothing against that anime by the way. Well, I am grateful that I stumbled upon Yohaji while it had 100+ chapters though. And the fandom being small enough to only have nice and cool people in it. But those fics in ao3 though? Why- I mean, I don't really care or pay attention to them but the fact that the amount of nsfw fanfics is probably (I'm saying probably because they might just be more) equal to the amount of sfw fanfics in there is- I swear, WHY ARE THERE SO LITTLE FANFICS OF YOHAJI?! 3 PAGES?! ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!? There might be more in other places but I only read in ao3 and Tumblr if I find some there. I'm so thankful for the translators though!!! I love y'all. I love the fandom. I love the characters. I love Yohaji. I love the creator. God- sorry I forgot I can't use sensei's name in vain. I'm telling y'all, Tanamai is the GOAT. A GENIUS!! Your brain is beautiful. What goes on in head yours? Tell and everyone might gain more braincells. What's with you? What's with your humor?? What's with your lore?! WHAT'S WITH YOUR ART??? WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS?!?! SENSEI WHEN I CATCH YOU OHH WHEN I CATCH YOU. But of course, it's not your fault that I'm starving for more Yohaji chapters. One month is nothing to me- IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT!!! WHY DID YOU HAVE TO CREATE THIS WONDERFUL AND HEAVENLY HOOK THAT CAUGHT ME EVEN ONLY WITH IT'S TITLE AND ART?? HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO MEEEE?!?! Senseiiiiii*sob* waaaaaahh... Still, I'm sooo happy this is getting an anime this year!! I've been waiting for this ever since I found out it existed along with other Yohaji fans. I knew it would happen soon enough because it's the law. It's a crime to not make an adaption of amazing yet weird yet amazing manga like no other. Death row. DEATH ROW!! It's fine even if it's low quality. As long as it exists, I can finally pass on peacefully- when it airs it better be as good as the manga and look immaculate, I'm telling you. Haha, just kidding. Or am I..? I cannot wait until April or whatever how long it takes for the anime to air just please. Please even the trailer only. But I'm sure everyone is already working hard to make the anime for it. Do your best!! You're doing the right thing! And.... uhm.. 24 episodes... please..? AHHH HARUAKI'S SMILEEE!!! IT'S INVADING MY MIND!! GET OUT! PLEASE GET OUT!!! THIS LOWLY UNGRATEFUL UNDESERVING WORSE THAN DUST BUZZ BUZZ KILLABLE STUPID MORTAL ABOMINATION CAN'T HANDLE OR DESERVE SOMETHING LIKE THAT!! AAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!! I can't do this. More. More. More Yohaji. I NEED IT. IF AIR AND SAILOR UNIFORM IS LIFE THEN SO IS YOHAJI!! RAAAAAAAHHH

Also I accidentally deleted a longer version of this and rewrote it with my memory. Thanks for wasting your time on this like I did.

[fanfic-lover-girl]

Do Draco Fans Really Love Draco?

I read a Quora post last year when I was still new to HP where the user did an AO3 fic analysis and pointed to the number of fanfics to prove how much Draco's fans love him and how overrated he is.

But I think all these fanfics prove how misunderstood Draco is as a character. You see all these fics where:

his parents are abusive

he was an angel all along and it's his parents' fault why he's mean

he becomes all hot and bothered like a fanboy for Harry as soon as Harry shows him some sort of decency

Draco is basically Ron but rich and blonde

he is basically male Ginny but rich and blonde

he simps for Hermione and thinks she is the most beautiful girl in the school (as if!)

his redemption fics have all his mean moments transplanted on another character (eg. Blaise, Theo, Vincent, Gregory or some random male OC) to make him look better

he acts all girly

he's a loner and no one understands him

he's self-conscious or has low self-esteem

he takes all the blame for his bad relationship with the trio like the golden trio were saints who never hurt him too and basically kisses their butts to repent

he's a mini Voldemort in training

he's a manwhore

befriending the golden trio is the only way for him to have a better life

befriending/dating someone in the golden trio is part of his redemption arc

he and Hermione are bestie study buddies

he and Harry use the sectumsempra scars as a romantic/sexual bonding moment

he renounces his pureblood supremacy beliefs faster than a Thanos snap

Astoria is the only reason he changed like he was not traumatized by an awful war

he can't fight or he's weak/pathetic etc...

Draco is not a poor misunderstood, abused baby or a demon child, baby Hitler. He's a normal boy who grew up with bigoted views. He has a loving family. He likes making impressions and being a class clown. He calls out Harry's show-off behaviour when no one else will. He tells things as it is when he calls out Hagrid for being an atrocious teacher and Hogwarts being a dumpster fire school. He likes girls and goes on to have a nice family. He repeatedly warns the golden trio about the approaching DEs and tells them to leave the area while being a complete jerk and laughing at the possibility of Hermione being attacked at the same time. He's not a wimp and can land blows in fights. He can be overly dramatic. He can be stoic in the face of humiliation/abuse. He's creative and artistic. He's a spoiled heir of a rich family who's confident and knows his worth. He's classist. He bit off more than he could chew when he became a DE. He has been group assaulted multiple times by his peers, more than what his rude behaviour deserved. He holds grudges against people who offend him. He seems to have good chemistry with his house. The golden trio accuse him of crimes we never see evidence of while being hypocrites and doing the same behaviour themselves (eg. Hermione accusing Draco of bullying first years as a prefect then she and Ron proceed to bully first years multiple times as prefects). He never truly shined because his author hated him.

I just want Draco content where he is portrayed fairly. Interesting fics without Drarry would be great too. Lord knows Drarry and Dramione are major culprits in this warping of poor Draco's character. Fanon Draco can be fun too but so many times it just feels like an OC with Draco's face on it.

I wish Draco could have more of the same kind of great self-actualization fics that Severus Snape has where he is allowed to be his best self without gay romance involved or where the romance is a background thing or where the golden trio are not involved. Just him vibing with other Slytherins and forgetting the golden trio even exists. I have enjoyed many amazing Draco fics but now that I have come to understand book!Draco more, a lot of them make me feel kind of unsatisfied and hollow now.

[skazoo]

fire to the rain.

↳ min yoongi x f!reader x jung hoseok

a crime lord, a mental hospital escapee, and a sociopath detective enter a bar.

length. 2.3k

genre. angst, thriller!au?? i REALLY don't know how to label this, agust d and jack do their own thing ig

warnings/tags. language, mention of mental illnesses, murder, arson, implied organized crime, dark themes overall. in this fic's seoul mental hospitals still exist, like arkham asylum/ahs: asylum stile idk it doesn't really serve anything but i imagined it this way.

networks. @kflixnet k-labels

notes. i finally get to publish this fic after soso long can i get an hallelujah?!?! also jack and agust d need to be in a movie together i really need it.

last but not least infinite thanks to the best beta reader i could ask for <3 @l00pyluluo7 MY angel 🫶🏼

hope you like it!

i'm desperate for feedback and i love comments with your opinion!

(cross-posted on ao3 only)

navigation

a crime lord, a mental hospital escapee, and a sociopath detective enter a bar.

you think back to yesterday and you have a hard time recognizing which part of the so-called joke is funny but it was one of the rare times yoongi laughed when hoseok said it so you guess it’s just a you problem.

rain falls relentlessly on seoul’s concrete streets, the raindrops biting into your skin like needles. you walk slowly, hands in your pockets and the hood of your jacket pulled over your head, almost covering your vision. you let your eyes scan the dark alley you’re about to enter, but you see nothing other than a few plastic bags from the restaurant in the front of the building and a stray cat looking for something to eat.

according to the message you received in the dead of night from a —ironically— familiar unknown number, the meet-up is supposed to happen early in the morning but as of right now the sky is dark, the rising sun completely hidden behind a thick layer of ominous clouds. a milky mist bathes the city that has yet to wake up in a gray hue and morning seems nowhere to be seen. 

you grimace. 

if anyone were to ask you, seoul doesn’t deserve anything. 

the freezing cold in winter, the scorching hot summer, the rancid smell, its unforgiving nature, the city you were born in has never done anything for you. not when you grew up in foster care, not when you were denied the same opportunities as your peers because of your ‘slightly disturbing’ nature, not when you joined the police. if anyone were to ask you, in all the years you’ve been alive, seoul has never shown kindness and you’ve come to the point you’d rather see it burn than be a silent victim of its cruel ways. 

no one ever asked you, though. not until you met him first and the other second.

they knew what you were talking about when you told them what went on inside of you and be it in loneliness or personal gain, they enabled you in the only way they knew how. with gasoline. setting fire to the rain.

the phone in your hand says it’s 5:26am. you still have time.

you fish for the unopened pack of cigarettes in your pockets. 

it’s weird how the first thing you think about is sergeant kim and his passionate hate for your addiction. sergeant kim and the conversation you had almost four hours ago.

his voice was a quiet thing when he found you outside of the police station when it still wasn’t raining.  

“detective L/N.”

“sergeant kim.”

“the fires are getting more frequent.”

you let the smoke wash soothingly over your lungs. kept it there before lazily pushing it out. “they are.”

he stood in silence, leaning on the other side of the door, looking at you with a grave frown.

“it’s dangerous, detective.”

you buried yourself further into your jacket and turned your head in his direction, a minimal movement that spurred him to go on.

“and it’s arson,” voice low as he looked around the outside of the station. it was late. uncharacteristically so for him but your case must have been keeping him up at night more than you thought it would. maybe you underestimated his love for the job or his fear for his failures, you don’t know. you don’t particularly care either.

“i thought we’d already agreed on it when we took the case, sergeant. it is malicious. it is arson.”

he frowned and shook his head.

you’ve noticed he often gets these fits of frustration in which he struggles to make you understand exactly how certain things make him feel, as if he needs to explain the reason he’s not comfortable. you think he does it unconsciously but you wonder if sometimes he catches a glimpse of what goes on in your head and his desperation it’s just him trying with all his might to pull you away from something you both know is not pretty. something he knows would put a premature end to whatever relationship he created between the two of you. 

“it’s murder,” just above a whisper. “Y/N, we’re looking for a single man, a madman, a psychopath that uses the same brand of matches every time he burns something down but i’m starting to think it might be a group? do you think it could be possible? i just can’t think about the actions of a single person causing so much pain i–”

“what? so it would take this case from having a chilling lack of ethics to just being ethically questionable? would it make you sleep better at night?”

he stared at you as you let out another puff of smoke that curled around itself and vanished in the night air. it smelled like rain. you thought you saw a gust of lighting from behind a building.

“Y/N, i’m worried about this. i’m worried about you.”

that was a weird thing to hear, naive too, you thought.

sergeant kim namjoon. you’ve known him for years. polite, respectful, driven, maybe too driven. your partner in this last case. he took a particular liking to you after you helped him catch an abuser his first year of being sergeant and as much as it was inexplicable to you it was very easy for him to consider you in no time something more than a mere coworker, a friend, even. you realized with time that he craved human connections no one around the station or the city was eager to give him and he found in your uninterested passivity a sign of acceptance of a new friendship. but you don’t think he’s the clueless, clumsy man he portrays himself to be most of the time. you think he’s just a person who’s so desperate that he’d turn a blind eye, a deaf ear to the wolf in sheep’s clothing working alongside him if it meant he could keep someone close to his pathetically lonely heart. you think he’d be considered wretched and rotten and insane just like the rest of you.

when you didn’t answer he shook his head again. a slow hand passed over his tired face as if to wash away the stuff of nightmares you both have to work with.

“whatever organization or– or crazy person– i don’t know but whoever is doing this knows we’re looking for them. you and i, Y/N. and i’m used to your indifference but i’m worried you’re not taking this seriously. they’re getting closer, i can feel their eyes everywhere i go and i–  this group is–” 

“sergeant…”

he squeezed his eyes shut. to avoid tears from falling from his watery eyes? to ground himself in the shitty reality he’s cursed to live in?

“will you ever call me by my name?”

fuck, he really was naive. still is. always will be.

“sergeant,” you smiled more to yourself than anything but you saw him clinging to it as if it was his lifeline. “don’t compromise yourself over things you wish were true because they’re easier to come to terms with.” he hung from your words. he alway does. “don’t compromise yourself. you’re all you have, sergeant.”

on that occasion you don’t know why you said those words if to really speak to him and reassure him or to drive him away from your business. you just know you did and it seemed to free him of something and burden you of something else. you just know that sergeant kim namjoon passes through your mind numerous times in the weeks that follow the conversation.

you’re walking further in the alley when you’re forced back to the rainy present by the sound your ears capture in the drowsy silence of the early morning. you take off your hood to listen.

someone is following you. you can hear their footsteps, speeding when you are speeding, slowing down when you do the same. you stop in place. you can feel their presence, hear their breathing, their arms stretching out towards you, a hand coming from behind and reaching out. 

a single lit match floats in front of you held by a bodiless fingers.

“surprise.” barely audible, whispered into your neck.

your mouth pulls into a small smile as you stretch your neck to light the cigarette you’re keeping between your lips.

“it’s 5:37.”

a silent kiss is placed on the exposed skin between your jacket and your hair.

“i know.”

“you’re late.” you muse. a drag of the cigarette and you gently blow the smoke in the dark in front of you.

the voice talking to you finally gets a face when the man behind you slowly circles you. he lets his hands travel from your shoulder to your waist as he comes standing in front of you. his eyes are crinkled with glee, his usually mischievous grin softens when he sees how you’re looking at him: amusement hidden by a thin veil of annoyance.

he takes your face in his hands, a rough thumb swipes over your cheekbone. the smell of sulfur hides his usually earthly perfume. 

“seven minutes, love.”

“seven minutes late.”

he huffs out a laugh and lets his hands pass through the wet strands of his hair.

he looks good even with ash in them and eye bags under his eyes. 

it makes you feel weird when you think about these things. when you find yourself admiring him as if you’ve finally found something worthy in the pool of mediocrity you’ve been swimming in since you can remember. it never occurred to you that people —insipid, dull, hypocritical— could make you feel like you didn’t want the world to end anymore. 

they both made you change that about yourself and at first it was alarming how quickly you fell into them. you don’t know what it was but for the first time, you felt seen. not understood or full, no they couldn’t do that with you just as much you couldn’t understand or fill them, but you were visible. you were there, and they were too.

hoseok lazily looks around the dark alley one last time before taking your hand in his and gently pulling you along inside the building, to the flights of stairs that take you to the roof. 

you know that with his silence he’s giving you the time to come back to yourself, to hide again what you know he’s already seen time and time again. it’s still hard for you to freely show what you feel but they’ve never pushed you and often you find yourself wanting to tell them how glad you are about it.

“he’s late too, you know. i hope he gets the same treatment when he arrives, mh?” he quips once you reach the roof and the other man’s dark mop of hair is not standing there, tapping an impatient foot on the cement floor. 

“he has responsibilities. he’s gonna be late sometimes.”

hoseok gasps, “and i don’t?!”

“your only responsibilities are lighting a match and hiding from whatever mental hospital you ran away from, jack. stop whining, you know i don’t particularly like it when you do it.”

he pouts as you blow smoke in his face. you know he wants to argue against words that are nothing more than simple truth but he settles on whining more. “and i don’t like it when you call me jack.”

“i know.”

“then why do you do it?”

“you’re cute when you’re upset, hobi.”

he sputters out something about indulging crazy people just as the rusty door of the rooftop creaks open.

he stands there. the healed scar on his eyes casts a dark shadow on his porcelain skin. he looks the part, you think. born and raised in the same city that doomed you from the start. you also think that’s why you found him and he found you. you’re not that different.

you take the last drag of the cigarette and throw the butt on the floor, putting it out with the heel of your boots.

“did you finish the job?”

you look up at him as hoseok stands behind you. his hand sneaks to your waist. you know he’s sending a proud smile to yoongi.

“you know we always do,” you answer calmly, truthfully. it’s just facts. you always do. you always follow through with his requests. this time it was seoul police getting too comfortable snooping around his business, the next time could be one of his allies threatening his authority a little too much. he trusts you. you trust him. it’s a mutual act of something akin to what people call love. it’s not even that absurd if one thinks about all the things people say they do for love. you’re just humans like the rest of them. fragments of decay.

“and they said i had ‘behavioral issues’” hoseok scoffs from behind you.

yoongi smiles at the picture in front of him. he takes your hand in his, kisses your knuckles. does the same with hoseok. sweeps a thumb over a dark smudge of coal on his cheek. 

the sun must have risen behind the thick layer of clouds —the bubbling of the tempest can be heard in the distance. the three of you stand there, huddled close, subtly holding hands. dark smoke, the blaring siren of an alarm, and faint screams rise from the police station in front of the office building you're in while the rain still cascades unforgiving from the heavens.

a crime lord, a mental hospital escapee, and a sociopath detective enter a bar.

you still don’t get it but you let out a silent chuckle anyway. if it made your partners laugh that much in bed last night then it truly must be funny.

end note. i didn't want to put this at the beginning bc i didn't want to spoil anything but i started writing joon's texts/ voicemails to Y/N after the 'incident' and if you're curious pls tell me i can finish them and maybe do a little drabble spin off on that! lmk <33

[linlovesnoodles]

Heyy!

I'm Lin, a very frustrated ao3 reader, so I've decided to take matters into my own hands. I'm writing a greenflame fic! This is my first fic, but I'm dedicated to finishing it. It's not on ao3 yet, but it will be soon! Here it is:

Kai checked his watch for what felt like the millionth time that day. He scuffed his feet on the floor before glancing at the door Nya had disappeared through ten minutes ago. Frankly, he felt like time had slowed to make him miserable. 

He looked around his new school. Kai had arrived with his sister Nya that morning. He’d promised her he’d try not to get kicked out of this school but he bets he’ll last for a month before getting expelled. 

Suddenly Nya poked her head through the door of the admin building before stepping out, grinning as she held up two keys. 

“Look-ie what I got,” Nya sang, waltzing past Kai. 

Kai sighed, “Who’s my roommate?” The question had been nagging him for a while, sue him.

Nya squinted at an information card, “Dunno. Doesn’t say.” 

“Seriously?” 

“You can find out later, jeez.”

 Kai rolled his eyes and followed Nya down a brightly lit hallway. 

“First Master, could they light this hallway any brighter?” Kai grumbled, shielding his eyes. 

After several flights of stairs and many curses, Kai and Nya found themselves on the balcony that overlooked all the classrooms and dorms of Ninjago High School. Students were milling about the campus, but Kai didn't know where the rest were. Surely, there had to be more. About 600 students attended NHS, Kai knew that much.

 “It’s not a boarding school for everyone,” Nya said, as though she could read his thoughts (she probably could).”Some people live far away and decide to stay here, while others, like us, don’t have anywhere else to go.” Kai hummed softly. That made more sense.

Nya shoved a few papers into Kai’s hands, “What room are you in?” she asked, shuffling through some papers of her own. Kai scanned the paper for his room number. 

“One-twenty-seven.” 

“I’m 114. On the girls’ side.” 

“You’re so far away,” Kai whined. 

“I’ll appreciate the break,” Nya replied, distractedly.

 “Hey!” 

“I only speak of the truth, hermano.” 

Nya started walking again, and Kai, in all his glory, followed her. After even more stairs (because the dorms were on different levels), they stopped in front of room 114. Nya opened the door. Inside was somewhat simple with a small living room and kitchen, and three doors: Two on the left and one on the right. A girl with bright red hair was fixing the pillows. Kai felt that having hair that bright was a crime.

The girl looked up, "Hi! I'm Skylor." She stuck her hand out for Nya to shake. Nya took her hand, ready to introduce herself. But the Skylor beat her to it, "You're Nya, right?" Nya nodded.

"Yeah."

Skylor looked up and down at Kai, "Are you Nya's boyfriend then?"

Nya gagged, "First Master, no. That's my brother Kai."

Skylor's face resembled her hair, which was quite funny and Kai stifled a laugh. Nya elbowed him in the gut before going on about how he's an as(s) and she'd never date him, even if they weren't related.  

◇☆°◇☆°◇☆°◇☆°◇☆°◇☆°◇☆°◇☆°◇☆°◇☆°◇☆°◇☆°◇☆°◇☆°

By the time Kai got to his dorm, it was already dinnertime. You might think that it just took a monstrous effort to unpack Nya's things into her dorm, but no. Nya wasn't that type of person. All she carried with her was a few bits of jewellery, some boots, and some clothes, plus some weird bits-and-bobs she liked to tinker around with occasionally. What really took up that time was Skylor, who insisted that they do a personalised tour of the school. 

She took them to the school's pool (not bad), gym (the school was rich), and ice skating rink (seriously?). There was a cafeteria where the students who lived on campus ate dinner and breakfast and a cafeteria where everyone sat together for lunch. She also showed them the classrooms and where they'd take their classes and explained some extra rules for students who use dorms and stay on campus.

 Apparently, on weekends or after school, they were allowed to go into Ninjago City for a maximum of 3 hours and there was a curfew they had to be back by. Kai despised curfews, so this didn't come off as good news. He liked to stay out late and wake up late, but apparently, now he had to be in his room by 10 pm! Boring. 

Nya had shot him a look when Skylor said that, but he didn't pay much attention to that. When Skylor finished the personalised tour, she showed him to his room. She mentioned something about a coincidence before saying that she'd see him at dinner. Nya, the traidora had already left, leaving him to unpack all on his own. 

His dorm was almost identical to Nya's, only different because of the way the couches were positioned and his roommate's belongings were placed. He was just arranging his last perfume bottle on his nightstand when he heard the door of the dorm open. He went out to check who it was and discovered it was his roommate. His roommate looked up from where he was arranging something and grinned when he saw Kai.

"Hi!" he said, his voice smooth and firm. "I'm Lloyd. You're my new roommate, right?"

He looked to be a year younger than Kai, with blond hair and startlingly green eyes. He was dressed in a green hoodie and blue jeans, and he had a pale green streak in his hair (his favourite colour had to be green). "Uh, yeah, I'm Kai."

"Nice to meet you, Kai."

Kai had no social skills whatsoever. He mostly communicated by standing behind Nya and glaring at anyone who dared to lay their eyes on his hermana menor. But he felt compelled to say something to Lloyd, which was odd. "How old are you Lloyd?" he asked. It was a weird question, sure, but Kai normally spat out whatever came to his mind first. Sucks to be ADHD.

Lloyd looked slightly surprised, but he was good at hiding it. "I'm fourteen," he answered.

"Grade 8?"

"Um, no. It's complicated."

"Or you're just a super smart guy."

"Sure."

Kai didn't really know how to continue from this but Lloyd saved them both from awkward silence by asking, "How old are you?"

"Fifteen turning sixteen in November."

"Ha! My birthday's before yours."

"Rude. At least I get to drive before you."

"With a Learner's permit!" Lloyd stuck his tongue out at Kai and Kai laughed.

"You're like the world's biggest toddler."

"Am not!"

A bell sounded. "What's that for?" Kai asked Lloyd.

"Dinner. Come on!" He gestured for Kai to follow him, "I'll introduce you to my friends!"

◇☆°◇☆°◇☆°◇☆°◇☆°◇☆°◇☆°◇☆°◇☆°◇☆°◇☆°◇☆°◇☆°◇☆°

They both ran into the cafeteria and Lloyd grabbed his hand and led him to a table (the room got a few degrees hotter precisely when Lloyd grabbed his hand. Talk about perfect timing). Kai noticed that Nya was already there, along with five others. She laughed at something the guy next to her told her. He had curly auburn hair and freckles spread across his nose, with a smiley face badge pinned to his shirt. 

Skylor was talking animatedly to another girl sitting next to her. She had silvery hair and pale skin, with green eyes. Her eyes didn't seem warm and sparkly like Lloyd's, they glowed unnaturally and for a second, Kai thought she might be a robot. He quickly banished that thought.

Lloyd led Kai next to Nya, while he sat next to Skylor. Skylor paused her conversation to ruffle Lloyd's hair and greet Kai. The other girl also greeted Kai, introducing herself as Pixal. Kai barely had time to respond before Nya patted his shoulder, still talking to the other guy. 

"Kai, this is Jay. Jay, this is my hermano Kai."

The guy with auburn hair, Jay, waved and said hi, and Kai did the same. 

"Are you guys Spanish?" a voice said from the other end of the table, sitting next to Jay. So. Many. People.

"Yeah," Kai replied. The guy who spoke smiled.

"Nice. I'm Cole by the way."

Cole's voice was kind and warm, but he looked pretty intimidating. He wore a band t-shirt and had headphones around his neck. His eyes were dark brown and his hair was jet black. Kai got the feeling that Cole was one of the nicest in the group.

"Cole. I like that name," Nya mused, "Reminds me of fresh soil. Dunno why."

Cole laughed, putting an arm around the guy on his other side, "This is my buddy Zane."

Zane smiled. His eyes were a cold, ice blue, but not in a bad way. It was like a comforting cool breeze that drifts past you on a cold day. 

Zane had neatly trimmed hair and was wearing a pale blue sweater vest on top of a crisp white shirt. But the look suited him well, so Kai didn't judge him.

◇☆°◇☆°◇☆°◇☆°◇☆°◇☆°◇☆°◇☆°◇☆°◇☆°◇☆°◇☆°◇☆°◇☆°

Dinner was the same in almost every boarding school. You have some options to pick from, you line up, and you collect your food. Today, Kai chose pasta, and so did everyone else, save for some weird people. It was either pasta or grilled chicken with pasta salad (the poor Italians), so Kai's choice was obvious.

By the end of dinner, Kai knew all the people who sat at his table, including their ages and a hobby they enjoyed. The oldest were Cole, Zane, and Pixal, all of them 17. Jay, Kai, and Skylor were all 16 (or turning 16), and Nya was 15. Lloyd was the youngest at 14, but apparently, he started school earlier, so he was in Nya's grade, despite being younger than her. 

Cole enjoyed playing the drums and listening to music, Pixal and Zane liked mechanics (and they were dating. Can't miss that bit of info), Jay liked to tinker around with mechanics, Skylor liked cooking and Lloyd loved to skate ("Ice skating or rollerblading," he'd said). Kai already knew Nya loved to build things, living with her his whole life and so on.

Lloyd had left earlier, though the others told him he was probably just playing around with his cat, Sia (and yes, she is a Siamese cat. Ha-ha. Hilarious.). Lloyd was a cat person. Cute. Slowly, the other students started leaving and by 9, everyone was gone. 

Kai opened the door to his dorm and found Lloyd upside down on one of the couches, waving a little stick with a string for his cat to play with. He was humming a song, but Kai wasn't close enough to hear it. Lloyd's hair was spread out, making a sort of halo around his head. Kai smiled and Lloyd smiled back.

Kai lay in the dark, listening to Sia's soft purrs drifting from Lloyd's room. He could hear Lloyd singing, or was he humming? He couldn't tell. He was too tired. The room was quiet, with some moonlight shining in from a gap in the blinds covering his window. For the first time in a while, Kai slept peacefully without a worry.

I'd love some feedback before I publish it on ao3. See ya!