#also you can tell who's the non designer in this meeting asking the dumb question that messed the presenter

[whosname]

I got bored at the brand training. I had a Pocky every time the trainer said "gradient". I ate the whole Pocky box.

[hhjs]

forget me not.

♡ based on — "During times of war. I want to say: I only love you, And I cling you, Like the peel clings to a pomegranate, Like the tear clings to the eye, Like the knife clings to the wound." and the song nightlife by daydream masi.

♡ summary  —   Hyunjin's unsure of the tingle in his gut, why it's happening. But he thinks, just for a second, it feels a little like hope.

wherein, putting your heart on the line for the sake of doing favours isn’t a frequent component in your schedule. But what happens when this favour is asked for by the boy you may or may not have fancied for far too long?

 You accept it. 

 For a very embarrassing reason, really, which is — you think Hwang Hyunjin needs you.

♡ pairing— hwang hyunjin x reader

♡ word count— 8.8k whoopsies

♡ genre and alternate universe — angst, fluff + hanahaki au.

♡ author's note— this was supposed to be a drabble and then i sort of lost my fucking mind ehe...also this is easily the worst thing i have ever written im so sorry aaa but this is a lil present from my end hahaha

♡ warnings— suggestive content, vomiting, mention of blood. allusions to depression and heartbreak.

Amongst other things, you're extremely bad at saying 'no'. You don't mean the word per se...but the underlying connotation of this very monosyllable which may come at the expense of letting another person down.

It's sort of stupid, you understand, your friends have constantly voiced their worries for your extremely complacent nature more often than you'd think actually. But it all goes over your head. See — old habits really do die hard.

When you're eight, this very defect takes you to dreadful saxophone lessons your mum spoke so highly of. When you're 15, it gets you called to the principal's office for flashing Jeongin trigonometric functions in Mister Choi's pop quiz, when you're older, things are definitely no different.

The passenger seat is occupied, Hyunjin's holding a tangled muffler to his suede jacket clad chest. At 21, he's become someone you used to know. A friend of a friend, Felix's to be very specific. But the man in question, who was supposed to be his ride, passes off this duty for kegstands and you just happen to be the designated driver for the night, shuffling Jisung beside Changbin and Chan, who claims to be 'sober' even though he's half asleep.

Hyunjin is uncharacteristically quiet.

There's a polite smile on rendered your way as your eyes meet. A small curvature along his plump bottom lip, tighter around the edges. Still this simple formality is so beautiful that you feel something inside you come alive.

When Jisung starts snoring, you flip on the radio and Pink Floyd's Wish You Were Here comes on.

Your fingers feel numb when they come to tap out a rhythm to the track. It's nice. Tingling guitar riffs swelling, David Gilmour's gruffy voice pours in from faulty speakers. The more the song progresses, the more you find yourself attempting to think about anything that will distract you from the boy beside you, in the flesh no less.

So late at night, the main road is eerily silent. Cobblestones reflecting the sound of tires thumping against its layout, streetlights blinking at you from their drooping heads. Across the street, a baker is tucking away leftover bread and buskers are packing up their beat up guitars, a man in his late 50's pulling his blanket to his nose as he rests a head full of gray hair on the cold pavement.

You glance at Hyunjin from the corner of your eye and find that his staggering smile has completely disappeared. Now there's a distant glaze in his eyes. It's like he's here, in this moment, with you, but at the same time, he's somewhere else.

Under the impression you've done something wrong, you immediately begin to panic. But the thing is, you don't actually know if you should ask. Would it constitute as crossing a line if you had anyway?

Hyunjin covers his mouth with a sleeve, muffled retching building beyond fabric.

The reasonable assumption is obvious. It's not abnormal to be nauseous when you've got one too many drinks in you. He motions for you to pull over, incoherent sentences practically melding together, words forming and dissipating between choking fits.

You scramble to dig out a bottle of mineral water you habitually deposit in the glove compartment, offering him the tissue first. Ears perking up in satisfaction when a garbled thanks escapes his parted lips. But then... something weird happens.

As your eyes flicker to unintentionally glance at the contents discarded on the pitch grey sidewalk, you freeze in your seat.

You were never a big believer of superstition, not someone who buys into myths only meant for the fiction genre. Sure, you can be gullible sometimes...but what's happening falls no way under the realistic category.

The lethal Hanahaki disease, only inherited by some unlucky descendants, every moment in your head prior to this one, was something that's obviously non existent.

Yet... there's so much blood, too much blood attesting to your blatant ignorance. The petals are of a white rose, smudging together in swirls of grotesque crimson in mimicry of a sheen of red sticking to the inner corners of his lips. It has happened before, you can tell, from just how unsurprised he looks.

Hyunjin's stare flits to commit every detail of your to memory, in what only seems a quick study of gauging your forthcoming reaction, though even before you can produce a coherent thought, he says,

"You can't tell anyone." His voice drops a few octaves as though he's afraid your snoring friends in the back might've noticed. "Please."

Hyunjin's face softens by the slightest, contrary to his firm demand, there lies a desperation you couldn't overlook.

In retrospect, what you're about to tell is ultimately a promise that'd come back to bite you in due time. However, see now, you're extremely bad at saying no. Somehow you're even worse when it comes to Hyunjin. So you blink, turn the radio off and say,

"Okay."

—

The pool is preheated. For that you're most thankful.

Frankly, you couldn't imagine what it'd be like being pushed into a chilly body of water mid winter. Not that it's pleasant otherwise, you can't swim.

Well at 15, you hadn't quite learned to. The other kids have scurried inside to hog freshly baked Snowman biscuits Seungmin's mum is renowned for.

Then and you think you'll never quite forget it, Hyunjin's wearing an orange power ranger t shirt, it's darker now that it's wet, his glasses are marked with uneven splatters. His face scrunches up at the sudden splash of wetness engulfing his body. He wasn't planning to get in the water.

"Hold on tight." He says, wounding your arms around his neck, your calves tighter to his sides to support your shivering body. Back then Hyunjin's hair was black, cropped short and swept to the side, he smells like fabric softener and skittles. A water donut is discarded in the middle of the pool.

Everybody you know and don't know, from the birth of superheroes stuck in comic books to valiant protagonists behind fuzzy television screens, has this inherent desire to be saved. From the world, from themselves. No, no, it doesn't have to be a grand gesture, swooping them off of their feet from the grasp of surly men in dark alleys, sometimes it's really just simple. Sometimes people save you in the most ordinary way there is.

The weight of your form on his bright pink water donut while he stood on his toes to merely rest his elbows so the item wouldn't flip, a small act, certified this very claim, had not the nimble touch of his cold fingers, brushing away wet hair from your face, to anxiously ask if you're okay met the purpose. He talks to you like the sound of his voice has the power to injure you.

You nod slowly. Like this, it feels like you're going to be.

Hyunjin pouts, looking perfectly unconvinced. He paddles the pair of you to steel stairs spiraling into the pool, so he can stand without just his nose peeking out of the water, he looks at you once again, a wrinkle between his dark, arched eyebrows and says solemnly, "Jisung's such an idiot sometimes, isn’t he?"

But isn't he your friend? You want to ask. Something stops you though —his tone tells you you aren't the only one to fall victim to Jisung's practical jokes. Not that they were offensive or anything. Han Jisung, the same person who twiddles his thumbs when he wants the last chicken nugget and cries every time you watch Howl's Moving Castle together, genuinely doesn't mean any harm. It's just that...when he's comfortable with people, who aren't many, he tends to do a lot of dumb things. Dumb, endearing things that Minho will kill him for someday.

"A little bit," You mumble under your breath. Heat rising to your face at the possibility of Hyunjin being concerned for you. He sounds almost angry. "Thanks by the way."

It's rather pitiful to remember. Because with time, Hyunjin's world becomes so big that your interaction stands to be too insignificant to not forget. Before you know it, he's the shooting guard of your school's basketball team, just a handsome face who dates better girls, makes better friends. It's superficial and a little sad.

No, no, a little sad is an understatement actually.

To see someone you understood intimately, a boy who always described details too much just to stray from the main story, a boy with too many emotions bubbling to an awfully animated surface; someone who was passionate, sensitive and so nauseatingly big hearted...change into a man who is indubitably untouchable...is tragic. At least.

Yet funnily enough — you can't quite imagine a world without Hwang Hyunjin. His ringing laughter rippling through loud ambiences, his distant humming of Christmas carols whilst he absently skimmed through spines of children's novels and his eyes glimmering in adoration whenever he spoke of something he loved — Without him, you imagine, there would be a massive deficiency in your world, in the world. Like if birthday cakes came with the biggest slice carved out.

Hyunjin grins, a big sort of candid grin that turns his eyes into upturned crescents. His previous temperament long forgotten. Suddenly, this utterly atrocious happening seems to not be so bad. Suddenly you don't mind that Jisung is an idiot sometimes.

"Of course."

—

Hyunjin is not perfect. Hyunjin is no prince charming.

People don't know this. They don't understand this.

He ends up paying for dinner when he's out with a big crowd even though they were supposed to split the bill, he ends up crying when he gets angry and he is an abysmal liar, in every sense of the phrase. Hardly ever succeeding to hide his emotions when he should. When he was a kid his parents reminded him that it's a good thing to be unapologetically himself, that being honest is a good thing.

But as your eyes meet from across an ocean of people quagmired by crunchy leaves, sticky remnants of rain and his ex girlfriend who he now claims to be okay with being friends with, on her toes to poke his cheek whilst Chan's arm wraps around her waist, the soft white roses ornamented on a bow she loves wearing all the time, he thinks it's far from an agreeable trait to have.

Actually whilst you balance a newspaper under your arm and bring your coffee to your lips, it's like you're looking through him, past his skin, his flesh, something secret inscribed on his bones, embedded into his soul. You know everything, you know everything, you know everything.

The thought itself... surprisingly enough, doesn't appal him.

Hyunjin raises his palm in the air, feeling the autumn prickling against his skin. He waves at you.

—

Working at a library can be taxing. But it sure has its perks.

You can just about turn the place upside down and put it all back together without getting in trouble. Albeit another reason, besides your profession could be that Minho owns the place. Frankly, he may or may not have been the only cause behind your employment. It's hard to tell now that your co-workers really do recognise you've a knack for arranging things.

But to you, your job is very personal. A precious thing which relieves you from various worldly tensions. Velvety spines under your roughened fingertips, the burst of minted pages hitting your face every time you walk in, your love for reading, for a world of stories is so immense that you think you wouldn't have traded it even if your life depended on it.

For a disease that's not very well known, it's ironic how an entire section of mythology is dedicated to it. Past closing hours, amongst many novels mounted on your desk, you fixate on the one that made most sense. There's a few things you've picked up in common from all of them though — the hanahaki disease is extremely rare, it doesn't affect all those who suffer from the qualms of unrequited love.

Possible remedy according to findings entail

growths can be surgically removed, if the patient consents to eradication of memories of their loved ones.

Clanking of keys alerts incoming and you pause your tapping pen to look up.

"Burning the midnight oil, are we?"

Minho leans against the doorframe, he's half yawning, half talking and fully concerned for you.

"Yeah, looks like I'm gonna be a while." Your monotonous tone provides that you are not paying a lot of attention. You blurt without looking up. "Are you leaving?"

"No, still haven't finished archiving for that Pfizer project...But I'm going to get a bite to eat..." His inky eyes remain on you as his tone falters, "You want anything?"

"I'm fine. Thanks."

"Wow you're like...really uh invested." He tilts his head in thought, "You seeing someone again?"

You know Minho long enough to know he has a teasing side to him, from diaper days to play dates ending in pillow fights because he kept offering you his last Pringle just to pop it into his stupid smirking mouth — but you have no idea where he's going with this.

So you look up, finally. Furrowing your brows.

"No. What does that have to do with anything?"

He shrugs, "I haven't seen you concentrate so hard since you dumped Jeongin."

Your right eye twitches. Because you know exactly what he's referring to, and simultaneously, for the sake of your well-being, you much prefer being in denial. "What?"

"C'mon. Remember how you always ended up doing his homework?" He reminds you. "It's like when you like someone, you go out of your way to do charitable stuff for them. But...this? Too much. Even for you."

You ignore Minho's comment. To the world, Hwang Hyunjin's place in your life is not significant. After all this is the most natural undulation in the vicissitudes of life — for someone who once was your friend to eventually drift apart, to become a has been. It's too hard to explain why you care. After all this time.

"I was just being nice." You narrow your eyes, unimpressed. "Clearly this concept is lost on some people."

"Sure you are, bud. If being 'nice' is synonymous with whipped." Of course, there's a smug grin gracing his pouted lips that tempts you to fling something at him. Not that you can though. Seeing as Minho breaks out into a full fledged sprint, his singsongy voice a thinning echo bouncing off of shelves and windows and doors.

Still somehow his footsteps manage to travel through walls, permeating into your office with such great amplitude that you could be bamboozled into thinking he hasn't left at all. Or maybe you've stopped paying attention, your eyes zoom in on any other helpful detail you can put to use in wrapping your head around what you have witnessed firsthand.

At the same time, you can't really ignore how hungry you're feeling just from the mention of a bite to eat. So when Minho's shadow forms again on the page you've been 'reading' for the last few seconds you sense a gigantic wave of relief washing over you.

"You know what I changed my—" slamming the book shut, you blink against scanty provision of light, with raise your head and a bleary vision, recognise him in an instant. Except...it isn't Minho. "mind..."

The only source of brightness is a small emerald lamp perched on the corner of your desk, light green catches onto one of the ornamented corners and speckles of golden caress his supple skin gently. You hadn't realised how cold it might've been outside until you see how heavily dressed Hyunjin was, a long overcoat worn over woollen sweater, a Santa hat and muffler pulled to his chin. It's no one other than your boss himself who has given him directions to your office, you know this, Hyunjin has never been inside before.

So when he marvels absently, you sense yourself feeling a little self conscious about not cleaning up. All around you, a comforter and love seat pushed against the window, cigarette butts discarded in ashtray and then...the books strewn before you tell him you practically live here.

For some reason, Hyunjin only seems to loosen up at the spectacle.

"Hi." He says finally.

"Hi..." you arrange the reading materials quickly to one side so you can rest your elbows. A small (successful) attempt made to hide your research. "Something up?" You say, but what you really mean is, what are you doing here?!

Did he suspect you were going to tell on him? Right that's it, that must be it, you tell yourself, believing, knowing, of all the years Hwang Hyunjin has known of you he has never been one to care about your whereabouts.

"I just...um," He starts, forwarding his mitten clad hands. It's the back of a crumpled coffee cup on which straight handwriting reads a bucket list...of sorts. You immediately understand that his coming is an act of impulse. Urgency of living every moment like it's slipping through it's fingers, that he just needed to tell the only person who knows, be it by accident.

Hyunjin clears his throat. "I wanna do all this before I die."

In lieu of giving an instant response, baffled, you gawp at him. Despite knowing, hearing Hyunjin say it out loud somehow makes everything...too real.

It's as though someone's reached inside your throat, pulled your heart out and crushed it with their bare hands. Hyunjin, the boy who smelled like fabric softener and skittles and wore power ranger shirts, the boy with the fantastic smile and cold fingers, is dying. You won't let him. You can't let him.

You thumb along the numbers scribbled in hasty penmanship, look up and blink rapidly, "Okay," you say, a small whisper, barely there words. "That's okay."

Even with the hat covering tips of ears, you could tell the same faint blush coating his cheeks had rushed to that particular area. His eyes drift off to the sight of pens discarded inside a wooden holder because he can feel your gaze on him. "and I...I need your help."

"Alright."

Hyunjin's eyes widen to a great degree, he sits straighter, as if he hadn't expected you to comply so quickly.

And honestly? Neither had you.

It's quiet. Awkward.

"You know it's not like I haven't thought about dying. I just figured I'd get to grow old first, settle down, have kids and all that," A wry laugh escapes his parted lips. "Everything's happening too fast."

You hesitate, thinking he's making a mistake. Frankly he shouldn't feel obligated to give you an explanation.

"You...you don't have to tell me."

"No—I mean...can I?" He gives you a sheepish look, disliking his own whimsical tone, somehow endearing still. You find yourself wondering how long he had to keep his burdens to himself, not just pertaining to his illness, but everything. His dreams, his hopes, his fears. Anything which requires a certain amount of depth. And you almost ask him, the question sitting at the tip of your tongue, yet the realisation rather simple, stops you. Maybe you've mistranslated 21 year old Hyunjin all along — moulding himself into someone who's convenient around people who only liked him for who he appeared to be, maybe even with all that popularity, parties and glamour, he's just...lonely.

You push your reading glasses into your hair, press your knuckles under your chin and hum in consent.

He shifts in his seat, "Have you ever... been in love?"

You release an amused huff. Let your eyes linger on him for a long minute.

"Once."

Hyunjin half expects you to laugh. Poke fun at him for his melodramatic backstory. That's the sole reason why he doesn't tell his friends (funny, for people he considers close, they seem to know not much about him or care to know, that is. ). But you... you look at him with something in your eyes that tells him the rubbish reasons he posited makes all the sense in the world. Hyunjin's unsure of the tingle in his gut, why it's happening. But he thinks, just for a second, it feels a little like hope.

—

 Midnight rendezvous.

As someone who has lived a fairly extraordinary life, Hwang Hyunjin's bucket list is bafflingly ordinary. He's more of a finding joy in small things kind of a person, punctilious at best.

Things change. People notice. They hesitate, whisper about you and last night while you were out on last minute cheap wine run, the grocerer, a girl who looks around sixteen asks you if you're dating Hyunjin. Underneath the thinly veiled curiousity, there's something like anger dripping from her words.

You furrow your eyebrows in simple insinuation that it's weird for a stranger to take interest in your life. Maybe it was written on your face, the fact that you're a dying man's beck and call is for reasons far more complicated than it looks.

You go to his parties. Greet him as a friend would and not just for the sake of maintaining formalities. He comes to the library more times than he does, waits for you to get off work so you can check something off the list at least. People notice. People understand. Hyunjin's different around you. He's bright, talkative when he forgets to contain himself. You sense your heart swelling with pride just at the understanding that he can be himself around you.

You drive to the beach, sit in your trunk and drink straight out of the bottle.

Hyunjin laughs a little. Suspends his feet in the air. With time, he's gotten paler, exhausted. "Rough day?"

You hum.

"Very. Our children's collection is usually low in stock around the weekends."

Hyunjin crosses his arms over his chest. Curious.

"And?"

"And if I say I got yelled at by a toddler would you believe me?"

Hyunjin feigns contemplation, even with the realisation that his body is becoming less and less cooperative, he manages to remain perfectly cheerful.

"I can actually," he grins, "At that age, I was a real pain in the ass."

"Were?"

Your smile is just a slight curl against the bottle's mouth as he grumbles under his breath about your 'insensitive' remark.

You think of your life after Hyunjin, think of his absence like a gaping hole you'll never be able to fill out. It makes you sick to your stomach.

—

Bake something from scratch.

Hyunjin's face twists in apparent thought, eyebrows rising. A pink tongue poked against his cheek, whilst he chews carefully, trying really hard not to flash an accidental reaction whilst you clasp your butter and oat flour soiled hands together, some of the batter on your cheek, neck to anticipate his answer like your will to live depends on it.

You ask yourself how it got to this. Why you didn't care that you were awake so early on a Sunday morning with flour powdering every kitchen appliance in sight in spite of being awfully restrictive about who you let into your kitchen. But it doesn't matter, it doesn't matter because it's nice like this.

Hyunjin has his hair pulled away from his bare face, a mole under his eye, a small birthmark on the back of his ear.

When you first met, you thought he was a kind of handsome that couldn't be real. Something formidable about it. Only destined to exist behind fuzzy television screens and flashy magazines.

But in retrospect, you realise, that that's not true at all. 

If you look close enough, if you really pay attention, there's a softness underneath, something goofy, something warm, the sharp jut of his nose circling into a soft button, his eyes are big, black and his mouth jutted out into a natural pout, he looks innocent, like he doesn't quite realise the extent of his charms.

"It's..." His soft voice pulls you out of your reverie, and you look up to find his eyes glimmering jovially. Every time it surprises you, the lack of regret in them and the abundance of nonchalance. You wonder what it means to love someone like that, to love someone to the point of martyrdom. It shouldn't be like this. "perfect,"

"This is like, the only batch we didn't burn, right?"

You snort, "Yeah." Fully turn to him, "You know what they say, fifth time's the charm."

Hyunjin's laugh, you think, is so contagious that it makes it an imperative to smile in return. In shaky compartments the sound comes, like being 8, laying wide-eyed in a paddling pool and staring up at a crayon blue sky, raindrop rippling beyond all that noiseless water. His eyes curve to upturned crescents, an unconscious hand covering up the seams of his lips whilst he shakes his head. You don't even notice when he starts speaking again.

"Huh?"

"I said you got a little...something..."

You almost lose a fraction of your sanity when his nimble fingers come to wrap around your wrist while you hold onto the spatula employed into the whole snickerdoodle batter mixing business, a liberated hand coming up to gently wipe your cheek. It means everything to you. And nothing to him.

Later, when you're alone at night, really alone, you put your palm to your chest and feel the unsteady beat of your heart. A warning, a reminder. I can't. I can't. I can't.

—

You hold Hyunjin's hair up. His hands resting on the cold toilet seat, he's whimpering and bleeding. It happens every time he sees Haseul, or something which reminds him of her. Like the song.

This time she's drunk. And it's because she impulsively rises to her toes and presses a tender kiss to Chan's lips.

Hyunjin's just a feet away, across students and solo cups and streaks of neon falling irregularly through his line of sight.

He can never confess, not to her. The last thing Hyunjin wants is for her to feel bad for him. To say she feels the same as an act of service. He tells you. You understand. Somehow... you always understand.

They met in college, Hyunjin and she. And Chan was an upperclassman who seemed to be good at...well everything. At first, he couldn't figure out why it never occured to him before, the fact they were getting together maybe before, after or during the length of their relationship.

Though the answer is simple.

Hyunjin thinks the pillar to good relationships is trust. Call him a sappy romantic or whatever but he had seen true love manifest from it through generations before him and his parents and their parents. To think a different fate was woven for him...used to be unimaginable.

How ironic is that?

Hyunjin presses his cheek against your chest because he doesn't want you to look at him when he cries.

Then for the first time....he tells you he's scared. He's scared of what will happen to him. Of what is happening to him.

He's falling apart.

You cradle him, press him closer to your body like you're trying to put him together. People can't fix each other. Not really. But sometimes... they're worth the try.

"Hey...hey...it's alright," You shush him, run your fingers through his hair. Your voice almost breaking, faltering. Still this, this you mean it with every fibre of your being. "It's okay to be scared."

—

Self bleach hair.

It's Christmas and you're late for a late night dinner he's putting together. (As reluctant as he was about getting along with Hyunjin, he seems all too eager to make invite him whenever a get together takes effect.)

His apartment smells like floor cleaner. There's a queen sized bed pushed against an electric blue wall, a Fleetwood Mac poster taped to his door, small reading desk where Canon EOS New Kiss rests, polaroids of things checked off the list littered all its wooden surface.

You pick up the only photo he hasn't labelled, it reminds you that your friendship isn't just based off a pursuit. This is natural. Pizza box discarded between you two, on your roof top. It's a little too dark, you're holding a cigarette between your fingers, you're laughing and Hyunjin looks like he's going to complain the minute he's done taking the picture. (And he does.)

You smile, pressing your fingers against it like the touch could transport you to a simpler time.

"Ready to go?"

Hyunjin rakes a tentative hand through his newly dyed hair, grey (a suitable colour he says.). You can tell he's put a lot of effort into cleaning up, his usual hoodies and sweats alternated with a red satin shirt tucked into dark dress pants and a coat of the same colour.  Hyunjin is beautiful. Perhaps even more like this. In fact, the extent of this quality is so Goliath-like that it obliges dolled up attendees to marvel up in awe.  While you fully agree with their unsaid ponderings, you really do, you find yourself missing a less sophisticated version of him. 

"Yeah, but first..." you fish out a wrapped squarish material from the depths of your pocket. Hyunjin's eyes widen, two bunny-like teeth showing for the extent of his grin.

"You got me a present!" He all but rips it out of your hand, shaking the material eagerly. He’s a Christmas person, a supreme holiday enthusiast if you will. The sheer excitement in him projects itself in every physical aspect possible. Slight jumping on the balls of his feet. "It's a cassette...?"

You speak too much, nervous he doesn't like it. "It’s a Christmas mix. I thought...since you like carols. I know it's a little old school, I'm sorry if that’s not what you were hoping for—"

Hyunjin pulls you into a big hug, wrapping his entire body it feels like; his arms around your waist, he squeezes you tighter against him, "Thank you." He whispers into your hair, it's not just about the cassette, you can tell. 

There's a small light bulb dangling from his ceiling, he hasn't fixed it since the first time you pointed it out. You can tell with your eyes closed, you've begun to know more intimately than your own home. It's safe here. A place that deludes you into thinking that he's not running out of time, that even in his absence in the world, whenever you should walk into this room, it would be an imperative to find Hyunjin lazying about in its confines. Familiarity can be quite tricky, can't it?

His gratitude is not unknown to you. It's in the guilty smile that threatens to show every now and then, it's in this and it's in that. In many ways, it is not something you're a stranger to.

And yet the words manage to tears your heart at the seams. Just a little.

—

 Make a snow angel.

From above, he imagines, he may appear to look like a chunk of cookie dough in an ice cream pint.

The snow is not as comfortable as it appears, its frigid temperature seeps into Hyunjin's clothes (and what feels like his internal organs, if that's even possible). He waves his hands and legs inward, outward.

Your head tilts towards him. Face twisted in annoyance. "You're getting on my wing!" You say. "Have you no respect for personal space?!"

Hyunjin narrows his eyes jovially. And people tell him he's the one with a penchant for theatrics. He leans closer in rebuttal, waving his leg around your design with more purpose.  You give up. Sit on your knees, fumble with the snow. He’s still in the same position. Smug as ever...

"This is what happens when you disrespect your elders." He fake-warns. "Oka—"

What he doesn't anticipate, however, is the snowball you launch on his stupid grinning face. Now it's your turn to laugh. You clutch your stomach and point at him whilst he glares at you having barely managed to blow the snow off of his mouth.

"Oh, you're gonna get it now!"

You let out an animalistic screech, Hyunjin’s already trapped you under his weight, his thighs wound around your waist, hamstringing your plan to escape, now you're merely squirming. His fingers come down to attack your sides, digging into the flesh so mercilessly to the point you’re not sure if you’re laughing or crying. It's like there's a wildfire inside your lungs.

For a moment you forget, you let yourself forget what's to come.

“Alright, alright I’m sorry!” you press your palms against his chest in an attempt to push him off, Hyunjin has a dumb smile on his face that seems to give the impression of a hanger  stuck inside his mouth. But... there's something behind his entertainment as the sound of his laugh dies down, chest heaving with exercise. His smile drops.

You can count each lash, each freckle and line on his face. The dark in his eyes. The pink of his lips. Your sweater's ridden to your ribs. And the warmth of his fingers shifting against your bare skin hits you with an earthshattering force.

Hyunjin kisses you. For a fleeting second, you freeze. Rigid with shock. Then it passes as soon as it comes.

 You let out a noise of content,indubitably grateful that your neighbours forgot to put on their porch light for the night.  See it’s like this, the act of kissing is not as special as is the person himself, you muse, you can kiss anyone, you can touch and be touched by anyone. But none of that truly compares to this. Not when they aren't him.

You’d be lying if you said you never thought about it. Just like you’ve thought about a lot of things. But just the realisation that the boy you’ve harboured in your heart for more complicated reasons than you disclose, to yourself even, touches you with so, so much care...it’s tearing you apart. 

It’s too good to be real.

You suddenly push him away. The tugging and pulling at your heart too much to handle. For the fact remains — Hyunjin doesn't love you. He doesn't even like you. You never expected him to. Actually, you've never felt what you feel with that condition in mind either.

See when the feeling of having everything you could ever want is cradled between your palms...it ought to be hard to let go. (Maybe he’s just doing this because he feels bad for you, the little voice in your head says. You listen.)

Hyunjin speaks up first.

“I love Haseul.”  he tells you, but it sounds more like he’s telling himself. “That’s why...that’s why, all this...I love her.” Not you.

You swallow, “I know.” Your hands come up to dust your pants. Hyunjin’s still on his knees, as if the answer to his conflicts are deposited under all the snow. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not, it’s not okay. I shouldn’t have, I shouldn’t have done—”

Now you hear it, the hint of pity in his voice. You don’t mean to sound as bitter as you do. Seeing as you’re usually very good at keeping calm , breaking that very reputed front frustrates you even more.

“Look just forget about it, okay? We don’t have to talk about this.”

Hyunjin looks like he didn’t expect this side of you to exist. At least, you think, at least it got him to stop talking.

—

Learn to skate.

"If I fall, I'm taking you with me."

"You say it like I have a choice."

Hyunjin shoots you a warning glare even though you can't see. His choppy skidding steps supported by the vice grip he has on your arms. You haven't skated since you were in highschool. But when you're pretty good at it still, the smooth blade of your beaten skates gliding through ice with much dexterity, it's like floating, freeing, the wind hitting your faces, snow catching in your lashes. It's peaceful, you try not to think about the warmth of Hyunjin's arm circling around body, the vague rhythm of his heartbeat against your back. His laboured breaths on your neck. It's torturous. But spending so much time with him has taught you to hide your feelings better.

The park welcomes a large crowd around holiday season, children with toothless grins, tugging onto their mum's coats, small chin resting onto a parents' head, teenagers moving in together in school uniforms. It's the happiest time of the year. When you move past an elderly couple, they smile and tell you make a wonderful couple.

You're just about to make a correction. This puts you in an awkward position... doesn't it?

But then Hyunjin grins toothily and says, Thank you, like it's the most amusing thing in the world. You ignore the wrenching inside your chest.

Hyunjin leans forward, his plump lips brushing against your ear. "Where did you learn to skate so well?!" There's something like excitement in his kiddish laugh aside from admiration. It's not much of a question as it is an exclamation.

"I am pretty good, aren't I?"

He laughs, doesn't let you go. "Yes, yes...really good."

Out of breath, you slow down, move your feet steadily, careful not to lose balance.

"Oh my God! It is you!"

You raise your head, blink against flakes hindering your vision. Jeongin's voice used to be thinner before. As far as you remember. Now it has a weight to it.

You let out a nervous laugh.

"And it's you..."

Jeongin's eyes travel to the arms around your waist, to the stiffened figure behind you and you immediately liberate yourself. Moving to let Hyunjin use your arm as purchase, you don't fail to notice the pinch in his forehead, a frown on his mouth.

"This is my friend Hyunjin. Hyunjin, this is Jeongin—"

"We used to go out." Jeongin smiles, forwarding his hand, which is returned with an unenthused shake and a demure reply. Hyunjin never speaks to anyone this way, not even people he claims to hate.

The former male looks to you again, "I was, uh... wondering if you'd like to go out for a cup of coffee sometime."

Things between you and him ended amicably at the event of his departure for further studies, which deprives you of awkward tension which is expected when exes meet.

Besides, a cup of coffee never hurt anyone.

Right?

Without thinking, you nod slowly, "Yeah that sounds good,"

"Text me anytime."

"Sure."

 “I'll be out of your hair then," he beams. "It was very nice meeting you too, Hyunjin."

"Right."

Hyunjin, you realise, has released your arm. He leans on barricades fencing along the skating area, smiling briefly. You know it’s wrong...yet you sense that you almost need him to be upset.

Then he tilts his head back towards you, "He seems like a really nice guy," he whispers, genuinely meaning every word. Your heart sinks. "I see the appeal." Underneath the lurid glare of fairy lights brandished overhead, Hyunjin's ash hair glints like it's threaded out of silver. You wonder what he's thinking.

—

 Watch every Disney movie ever made.

You never end up texting Jeongin back. Just stalling for when you're ready, you tell yourself. Even though that's not true at all.

"This brings back so many memories. My parents used to belt out A Whole New World with me, like every time we watched Aladdin."

Hyunjin wipes his face with the back of his hand, technically you’re not very sure what he’s saying exactly because he’s mumbling into a paper napkin you've  passed over for the umpteenth time. You find yourself picturing a small but happy family of three, of Hyunjin in Scooby Doo pajamas and gap between his teeth. (Contrary to your previous convictions, he hasn't changed all at much, save for the teeth bit. ) It's cute.

He looks to you expectantly. Can't be the only one telling embarrassing stories.

You shrug, "I had a thing for Simba. Let's just say my mum and dad were nice enough to indulge me."

Hyunjin reaches for the remote and pauses the ending credits of Lady and the Tramp. He turns to you fully now, gives you a judgemental stare. "Simba...?" He says, "Like the...lion?"

"What? It's normal to crush on fictional characters, okay?!"

"Okay,sure," Hyunjin snorts, putting a pillow between you and him so you can't kill him. "furry."

A part of you is tempted, obviously. But the much bigger part is more invested in how he looks happier, healthier. You want to think that means something.

—

Hyunjin invites you over for movie night. It's getting colder and you keep poking him with your cold feet. There's an extra set of blankets in his cupboard, he informs you, he isn't sharing his with you — and that's when you see it.

The deflated pink donut folded to the side, his and yours sharpie inscribed initials on one side. 

"Found it yet?"

You don't even notice when he comes to stand behind you. So the question effectively makes you jump out of your skin. Hyunjin has a bowl of popcorn pressed to his chest, there's a pink hair band holding his hair away from his forehead. For the lack of a answer he takes it on himself to find the source of your silence. As if you've been caught red handed.

You think this is where he'll ask you to leave, that or he'll least scold you or something. You prepare for the worst.

Hyunjin just smiles, it's a big smile that succeeds in bringing out the small dimple indented on the side of his cheek. You've never noticed before. It's kinda weird. Because when it comes to him, your attention hardly ever falters.

"You probably don't remember. That’s from Seungmin's 15th birthday,"

You want to scoff under your breath. All this time you had told yourself that you were the only one to be affected by your estranged friendship growing up. Now...the same logic colours you every bit of ridiculous. 

You blink away, swallowing. Voice solemn.

"I remember." Hyunjin's gaze is heavy on your shoulders. An emotion you can't quite put a finger on crosses his delicate features. It's something between surprise and relief... something else too. You don’t understand it. 

—

It's disconcerting that he can’t remember the last time he got sick. Not the usual discomfort inside his chest, not the blood, not the thorns or petals. Hyunjin's just gotten so used to it, you know? What if he gets his hopes up for no good reason? What if it just comes back?

There's no possible explanation, he explains over a hasty 3 A.M message he had to leave on your answering machine because he's freaking out.

Then Haseul texts Hyunjin, tells him she misses him. Everything's adding up. Everything's falling into place. This is what he wanted, isn't it? She loves him, she finally loves him back. That must be it. He doesn't know what to say. 

But he tells you, and when he does, it sounds a lot like an apology.

— 

Kiss underneath a mistletoe. 

“Chan and I broke up.” She says it like it’s something he should be happy about. So when he remains quiet, it only prompts her to speak more, fill up the big mighty silences. 

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Look Jinnie, I know I made a mistake, but...can’t you give a second chance? Just this once?”

Hyunjin has thought about this particular moment a lot. Kissing her instead of producing a response, pulling her off of her feet and mumbling of course, of course, of course. Back then, there were little doubts in his head pertaining to her, back then he believed that she was the only one for him. The love of his life at the wrong time, in the wrong place.

Now...something doesn’t feel right. 

The thing about wounds, sometimes, of the heart in particular, is when they close up, it’s hard to make head or tails of the kind of person you become in their wake. Hard to adjust. Like when he suddenly shot up 7 inches in ninth grade, a late bloomer at that, and the weight of his new sneakers felt..odd.

He glances at her and also understands what it’s like to be lonely, the constant need to compensate for it by grasping at the last straw. He used to be in her shoes too. This isn’t any different.  Albeit, he isn’t exactly taken by her presence. Just that he doesn’t know if what he’s doing is right. He looks over your table a few feet away from where he’s standing. Having gone out to take a call. You notice his absence and then from your seat, do your best to locate him. (he thinks of kissing you on a bed of snow, thinks of the sizzle of your skates against ice, thinks of his list on a coffee cup and his pink water donut and it’s okay to be scared. Why did it have to be you of all people, through everything? It’s not really a work of coincidence. Not at all actually.

  Maybe he just wanted it to be you.)

When your eyes do lock...seeing him with his hands in his pockets, her standing beyond the barrier as she tries to say something, you smile, even if it’s a little sad. Hyunjin thinks to the conversation some nights before. Thinks of you reminding him that there's nothing to lose at this point, that he should do what his heart tells him. That it’ll be alright, if he just takes a leap of faith. Hyunjin smiles back. Through the glassy exterior and mini water fountains running down its slanted form. The realisation is not as dramatic as he thought. It’s just late.

 He tears off the false mistletoe decoration glued along the periphery of an arch.

And like always.

He takes your advice.

— 

Cohorts of guests pour into the colossal hotel, heads turning in quiet admiration for bejeweled arches breaking out against buttery white architecture, the roof is impossibly naked, translucent glass baring a starlit sky to your watchful eyes. Showing little mercy to a frail chute held over your head,costumed characters wade through oceans of gossamer, twinkling silver and swaying movements to slow jazz. You prop a heeled foot up on the bar platform, which strangely resembles a pedestal, in a futile attempt to catch your breath, with clammy digits settled atop the risky surface of a marbled counter. A soft voice speaks over the ambience, uttering your name with much care. You lift your head. And there he is.

Jisung is scouring through the Spotify playlist you’ve put together for New Year’s Eve. He’s complaining about the lack of Beyoncé while your friends go around the buffet table. When he calls you, you’re sipping your drink, laughing at something Changbin is saying, his eyes brighten just at the sound of your laugh.  Hyunjin isn’t surprised to see his friend taking a liking of you even though he hardly knows you. That’s just the effect you have on people.

Excusing yourself, you allow him to walk you to a less densely populated area where a stone pillar faces expensive paintings of nameless painters. With the effect of alcohol settling in and your inhibitions effectively lowered, your steps sway a little. You lean against the massive build rising from tiled floor. “So what’s up?” you murmur, the lump in your throat thickening just at the thought of him speaking the good news into existence. “I take it went well?”

 Hyunjin doesn't answer. He looks distracted for a bit. Then in an instant he snaps out of his daze. “What did you mean when you said ‘once’?”

Your brows come together in inquiry.

“What?”

"When I asked you if you have ever been in love, you said ‘once’." He persists, his fingers come up to your shoulder, grazing slightly as if they’re trying to carve out words against the skin. "You weren’t talking about Jeongin.”

He knows. He’s always known. Hyunjin can’t believe he’s been so stupid.

“Took you long enough.” You let out a sardonic laugh.“Well, it doesn’t matter now, does it?”

"It matters to me..." Hyunjin sounds offended, you gather, but he manages to quell his temper for the sake of coaxing your confession. Is he purposely embarrassing you?  "I don’t think...I love Haseul anymore...I didn’t realise...I haven’t for a long time."  

A big chandelier beams over withering plants pushed against the ceiling, in this poor supply of light, you can tell exactly how he looks, eyes glimmering adoringly, you've spent something-teen years of your life wondering what it's supposed to mean. And it still manages to confuse you.

"Why are you telling me this?" you ask, albeit you already know.  Because funnily enough, before he got his braces removed and dyed his hair a scandalous blonde, before bucket lists and heartbreak, he was just the boy who told you he liked your stupid reindeer sweater even though it had officially made you the 7th grade laughing stock. You remember being fifteen and in love with Hyunjin. And you've never actually stopped. You need to hear it to believe it.

It drives you crazy. The way Hyunjin brushes his fingers against your cheek, shifting strands away from your eyes. But you can't help it, you've always wanted this. You lean into the caress, peering up at him as his large hand cups your jaw, thumb traversing from your tilted chin to your glossy lips like he's trying to smooth out all the creases. His voice is small, a whisper.

"Because I need you to know I think I’m falling in love with you.” he says. His palm opens and there’s a plastic mistletoe nestled between his fingers. You’re smiling and sniffling whilst his forehead comes to press against yours. Hyunjin grins. “And there’s still one last item on my list.”

“Are you seriously asking me to land one on you now?”

“Oh hell yeah.”

— 

"Move."

You press your fingers against the slick, sweaty skin.

In rebuttal, Hyunjin grumbles under his breath. Only half awake, half aware that he was mumbling in his sleep. His naked chest seems to be, if it’s even possible, glued to your bare front as he sprawls out like a starfish over your body, using his gangly arms to accommodate the strange position.

Though and you know he knows it too — it’s anything but uncomfortable.

See by now, you aren't exactly a stranger to Hyunjin's sleeping habits. Or really, any habits of his.

All the windows are cracked open, moonlight percolating through a thin sheet of curtains in rendering evidence that it’s still night time. You can make out the faint sound of  honking in the distance, a few stray dogs here and there, probably producing strings of complaints about the blatantly unbearable heat.

The strong stench of sweat and an aftermath of what happened before is a quick reminder of where you are, what you’re doing and that your arm’s going cold for a lack of circulation under his weight. Beads of sweat collected against his skin and trickle down the side of your face, the crook of your neck, which only prompts you to apply more force to the pads of your index and pointer — albeit it did nothing to move him, "Gross." You groan. "You're sweating like a pig!"

This comment, of all the things you've tried to get him to sleep on his side, succeeds in making Hyunjin raise his head, his grey hair matted down, a few rogue strands pushed out to fall over the unamused look in his eyes.

In an unprecedented minute of absolute clarity, something inside your stomach started to churn at the shocking sight. You’re impossibly, absolutely and nauseatingly in love with Hwang Hyunjin and the funny thing is, you don’t have to think twice to know he is too.

"Gross?" Hyunjin lowers his face to brush his pouted lips along your jaw, grinning when you let out a shaky but involuntary breath and as if he is looking to make a point with his digits traversing from your bare stomach, just along the hem of your underwear,   "After all that?"

"I hate you." You say — but more like, stutter. The sound of his giggles eliciting a strange sensation in you, reverberating against your chest, knocking against his ribs and your skin, like it’s trying to reach out to you, like your bodies insist on melding into one.

"I don’t think you’re being honest, baby." He laughs, squeezing your side, coming up to plant a warm palm to your butt to repeat the action, which in turn, drew a mewl from you. “Because you looove me.” Hyunjin smirks, his finger thumbing along your throat to your chin. You think this is what all those great poets meant in endless litanies of lovers torn apart by time and war woven together in a simple caress, like a longing, like a secret. Guarded from prying eyes, greedy hands, and you keep it, you keep it. For him. With him.

[gukyi]

for you, anything | ksj

summary: in the popular online multiplayer game, kingdom, you are the top-ranked knight with money, fame, and power. in real life, you’re a graphic design geek who’s got a very unsubtle crush on her gorgeous coworker, kim seokjin. but when you’re suddenly dethroned from the first place spot in your game, you and your kingdom character embark on a journey to reclaim your title, and learn on the way that things are not always as they seem. 

{friends to lovers!au, enemies to lovers!au}

pairing: kim seokjin x female reader genre: fluff, comedy, fantasy word count: 21k warnings: alcohol mention, brief and non-graphic descriptions of violence, this is basically two fics in one so you get double the fun and double the word count!! a/n: once again, a massive, massive thank you to @aurawatercolor for commissioning me!! you can find her on twitter as well under @btspresso_!! she’s the genius behind this enemies to lovers and friends to lovers seokjin fic wrapped up into a nice package just in time for the holidays!! you ever seen a fic with e2l and f2l together? that’s right, i didn’t think so. enjoy!!!

check out the post-script drabble here!

♚ HERE ♚

“Oh, shit!”

From twelve feet away comes the sound of these three things in this order: fingers furiously mashing keyboard keys, wheels of an office chair swiveling angrily on the linoleum floor, and a war cry. All of which could either belong to a video game world championships in a big-city stadium or your simple, office of two-floors in a more-than-one-hundred-stories skyscraper based in graphic design and media for small start-up companies. 

“I can’t tell if Photoshop crashed again or if you’re playing that weird online multiplayer game again,” Yoongi grumbles from across the way, where he’s gnawing on a Clif bar in one hand as he mindlessly taps his mouse with the other. 

“Please,” Jimin says, carelessly waving a hand. “Don’t act like I haven’t caught you watching My Hero Academia multiple times this year while we were supposed to be doing work, you absolute piece of toast. But if you must know, I was in fact playing Kingdom.”

“I’m going to tell Namjoon,” Yoongi says with zero emphasis, because everybody knows that Namjoon’s got dirt on everybody in the office anyway (including Yoongi) and that if you try to expose somebody else to him, he’ll expose you back. It’s colleague culture. 

“And what’s Namjoon gonna do? He already knows you carry a flash drive of illegally-downloaded animes with you wherever you go,” Jimin retorts casually. He’s not wrong, and you can confirm that Yoongi indeed carts around a USB drive in the shape of a pineapple that has 64GB of anime. 

“What do I know?”

Namjoon comes trotting into view from the corridor that leads to the gender-neutral bathrooms with glasses hanging from the collar of his sweater vest, a clipboard with nothing attached to it in his right hand, and a steaming cup of jasmine tea (he hates coffee and declares this publicly at least three times a day) in his left. 

“You know that Yoongi—”

“Has been doing his work the whole time you were in the bathroom so you don’t need to worry about him,” Yoongi interrupts quickly. 

Namjoon shoots both Jimin and Yoongi a suspicious glare, but moves on. He’s got enough blackmail on the both of them to bury them into the next calendar year, but he’s wise, and he only uses it when absolutely necessary. “Just doing checkups on you guys before Boss Man calls me back into his office and gives me a pile of over one hundred hours of work I’m supposed to do in a forty-hour work week.” It’s been obvious from the moment you were hired that Namjoon does the most work out of anybody in this office, including your boss, and gets very, very little from it. 

“You don’t even have any paper attached to your clipboard,” Taehyung points out rather unhelpfully, from where he’s been drawing hearts on the cheeks of the Surprised Pikachu meme he’s taped up on the wall his desk is pushed up against. 

Namjoon looks down at his clipboard like it just spit mad fire at him, furrows his brows, and lets out a sigh equivalent to three years worth of pent-up aggression. “Shit.”

Jimin cackles from his computer. 

“Whatever, I’m still going to do checkups.” Namjoon takes the pen from behind his ear and writes himself a note, presumably to get paper for his clipboard later. “Jimin, you’re still working on that website layout for the art critic and photographer. Yoongi’s on coding for that search engine that we all know is never taking off but is still paying us. Taehyung’s on marketing because he’s got the most charming voice and Hoseok and Jungkook are on media production for the indie movie company. Y/N and Seokjin, you guys are on clientele and coding. Everybody good before I go get more paper?”

“Yes, Tiny but Large Boss Man,” Jimin says, and it’s enough of a confirmation to send Namjoon scurrying down the corridor again in search of paper as everyone else returns to their prior business. 

“Y/N?”

You turn around from the font website you’ve been browsing for about half an hour to find Seokjin standing behind you, an earpiece in his ear and that charming smile on his face. It’s the same smile he gave you on your first day on the job when he was introducing himself, same smile he gives when he meets clients in person, same smile he gives Namjoon whenever the man is about to have a breakdown. It’s a friendly, personable-but-universal kind of smile. The kind models need. The kind that Seokjin has mastered. 

“Hey, Seokjin,” you say, only just then coming to realize that Seokjin is much closer to you than his voice originally implied. You’ve rotated 180 degrees in your office chair and he is hardly a foot away from where your feet are. It’s a lot. Seokjin is always a lot. In the best sort of way. “Is anything the matter?”

“No, just wanted to check in and see how the project was going for that one guy that wanted a nice advertisement to put on Angie’s List,” Seokjin says, leaning down to look at what you’ve been doing. 

“Oh, well I’ve been browsing this font website for ages and I still can’t find a nice one for the sub-heading. All of these are too flashy or difficult to read,” you say, beginning to scroll as you and Seokjin both look for one that you like. 

“Hmm, I see what you mean,” his voice sounds like honey and if you had any less dignity you’d let the chills send shivers down your spine. Luckily, you know how to maintain your composure in an office setting. And you also know that Yoongi and Jungkook would never let you hear the end of it, ever. “Oh, how about that one?”

“This one? Rose Quartz?” You ask, pointing to it. 

“Yeah,” Seokjin says. “It has a nice flair that matches with the font for the business name, but it’s still easy to read. It would probably look really nice with a crisp shadow behind it, don’t you think?”

“Maybe you’re onto something,” you say, clicking to read the fair use and copyright. 

“Couldn’t have done it without all the hard work you’ve put into this,” Seokjin says, standing up and shooting you another one of his famous smiles. “You’re the best partner anybody in this tiny media production and design company could ask for.”

He leaves without bidding you farewell, but it’s enough to have you staring blankly at your computer, contemplating existence itself. Sometimes, a little part of you wonders if Seokjin only treats you like this and none of your other coworkers, but then you immediately remember that Seokjin is naturally charming and that he probably speaks to newborn babies in the same way.

Yoongi wheels over to your desk from where his is, smirk lacing his features as he chews on another, different-colored Clif bar. 

“Ever heard of a personal bubble?” You ask snarkily, because you already know why he’s over here, and so does he.

“Why aren’t you asking the same question to Seokjin, hmm?” Yoongi taunts. He’s know about your dumb crush on your coworker (of all people, your coworker! A fellow employee!) for months now. He isn’t being any more helpful whatsoever. 

“Go watch your pirated anime,” you grunt out, too overwhelmed with the way Seokjin smiles at you to really give Yoongi your full attention. “I have nothing to say to you.”

“Sure, but I’m not Seokjin,” Yoongi says. Then he wheels away and you’re left staring at the Rose Quartz font, whose sample text reads: This was meant to be. 

At least Namjoon doesn’t know.

It’s midnight on a Tuesday, and you’re just about to turn off the lamp on your bedside table and get some well deserved weekday-night shut eye when your phone begins to blare, a disgustingly ugly picture of Jungkook’s face appearing on the screen.

You stare at your phone like it’s personally offending you (which, if Jungkook’s face is anything to go by, it definitely is) before you turn off your ringer and close your eyes. Jungkook can wait. Very seldom is he at the top of your list of priorities.

Barely five seconds after you’ve put your head on your pillow, your phone begins to vibrate, this time even angrier than the last. Aggravated and a little concerned—because Jungkook never, ever calls twice—you pick up the phone.

“Hello?”

“Y/N! Something crazy just happened!”

“I hope so, otherwise you wouldn’t be calling me at midnight on a work night,” you grumble into the phone, monotonous voice a stark contrast to Jungkook’s easily excitable one.

“Have you been on Kingdom recently?!” Jungkook asks, and you practically see his eyes bulging out of his head in front of you. One of your youngest coworkers, it’s moments like these that remind you why he bears a striking resemblance to a university student—up late playing video games even on a work night—despite having a couple years in the workforce under his belt. He keeps telling you that he wants to go back to school and get a Masters in something, but he isn’t sure what yet. 

“No,” you tell him like it’s obvious, because it is. You typically begin to wind down your night around ten, which means that anything that’s happened on Kingdom in the past two hours you are thoroughly unaware of. “Can’t this wait? Kingdom’s fun and all, but I really do need to sleep.”

“But Y/N,” Jungkook says with a whine, insisting that you stay on the line, “someone beat you! You’re rank two, now.”

If Jungkook’s loud voice and jumpy attitude didn’t wake you before, you’re certainly wide awake now.

“What?” You ask, shocked. “Just now?”

“Yeah, like fifteen minutes ago! I don’t know what happened,” Jungkook says sadly, lost. “I was dueling with another knight when the horns and banners appeared on the screen and said there was a new top player. You’ve been dethroned!” He cries out like it’s him who’s lost their place. 

You’re fumbling out of bed, making a beeline for your desktop computer across your bedroom. Normally, you’d be ashamed about how high-school you’re behaving around a video game, but you’ve invested an embarrassing amount of time and energy into Kingdom, and you’ll be damned if you think someone else can outdo you. 

As you’re logging onto the game, Jungkook continues to wail into the phone. “I don’t even know who this person is, I feel like I’ve never seen them before! I mean, they must be really good since they practically appeared out of nowhere, but still! I’m a decent player so we must have crossed paths. Maybe I just don’t remember…”

Sure enough, the moment you open your screen the horns blare and the banners appear, congratulating a different player on achieving the top rank. You watch helplessly as the celebration fades on your computer before the leaderboard appears in the top left corner, your name a sad second place. 

“Who’s JK0901?” You shout into the phone, earning an exasperated sigh from Jungkook on the other end. You scowl at the name that’s knocked you off your pedestal, before narrowing your eyes to look at it more closely. “JK? Is that you, Jungkook? Are you just calling me to make fun of me for beating me? Don’t disrespect your elders, Jungkook.”

Jungkook gasps like he’s been accused of murder. For people that take Kingdom as seriously as you and Jungkook, it may as well be. “No! What the heck, Y/N, you know that my username is KookieMonster97, for God’s sake. Accusing me of being the best, how could you?”

“You should have just taken the compliment,” you frown into the phone, “Now all the girls are gonna know you aren’t, in fact, the number one Kingdom player.”

“Fuck, you’re right,” Jungkook mutters. “But it’s not me, I swear. You would have received a very different phone call from me if it was. In fact, I probably wouldn’t have even told you and then ruined your day in the office tomorrow. So it’s not me.”

“I can’t tell if I’d be more or less angry if it was you,” you admit.

“Why, because I’d finally have something to hold over your head other than my unwavering youth?” Jungkook taunts. Definitely still a university student at heart. 

“No, because it means I’d have to hear the entire office praise you for a day, and I’d rather permanently pop my eardrums,” you tell him informatively. Jungkook has enough of a head. You actively try to not do anything to enlarge it unless he wholeheartedly deserves it. 

“I love our coworker chats, you know,” Jungkook says. “Whoever this person is though, I bet they’re receiving bucketloads of praise for knocking you off the top spot. You’ve had it for like, three months now, haven’t you?”

“Yes,” you tell him through gritted teeth. “I’ve put my blood, sweat, and tears into this game and look how it’s repaying me,” you grumble, staring down the Kingdom home screen. 

“JK0901 probably did a ritual sacrifice to beat you,” Jungkook supplies unhelpfully. 

You sigh. Whoever they are, they proved that they are just as good at Kingdom as you are, a veteran player with an embarrassing several years of experience under your belt. In fact, they proved that they’re better than you. 

♚ THERE ♚

It’s cloudy today, which means that more of the market stalls are out on the main street. You pass by them on your way to the castle, vendors calling out to you with promises of apples, jewelry, and perfumes. 

You’ve got money to burn and your responsibilities can wait a couple of minutes, so you indulge one of the stalls and purchase a couple of apples. One should give you a bit of energy now, and the rest can be roasted later for a better meal. 

“Miss Y/N, off to the palace?” The vendor asks. From how much you frequent this part of the kingdom, every artisan, farmer, and merchant alike knows your name. That, and the fact that you’ve amassed quite a group of followers from your daily knightly escapades. 

“Of course,” you respond happily, paying the merchant with a couple of silver coins and then some, just as a thanks. The extra money helps the farmers raise the quality of their crops and allows them to earn more for their efforts. It also boosts your standing amongst the townsfolk. “His Majesty requested my presence for further instructions on fortification, most likely. But I’m just honored to be recognized.”

“As you should!” The man responds dutifully. “You are our best knight, after all.”

“Please, you flatter me. When the work day is done, go home and feed your children well, alright?” You ask, giving a firm nod to the merchant before you’re on your way. As you stroll down the stone-paved path, other vendors call out to you, hoping that you, too, will indulge in their finest clothes and trinkets on your way to the castle. 

Maybe another day. 

You take a hearty bite of the apple as you head towards the palace, a satisfying crunch ringing through your ears as the townsfolk nod and bow to you. It’s easy to figure out that you’re the top-ranked knight in the kingdom, with badges of honor pinned to your torso, ink black armor clinging tightly to your body, and red sashes tied around the black ones on your wrist, signifying approval from the highest ranking military official in the kingdom: the king himself. 

The guards at the palace gates step aside as you nod to each other, bowing courteously. You repeat this process several more times as you slowly proceed towards the throne room, where the King (and maybe the Queen) are likely to be waiting for you. They had increased their security at every door frame after an attempted assassination several months ago, which you (with the help of other high-ranking knights and castle officials) discovered was a plot orchestrated by Their Majesty’s second-most-trusted advisor. 

Finally, you reach the golden arches that signify that you’ve arrived at the most expensive room in the entire palace (save for Her Majesty’s bathroom, which, though you have never been inside, is rumored to have a golden bathtub and sacred water from the River Blancheur, over two thousand miles away. But you cannot confirm nor deny.), threatening red doors slowly creaking open as the King and Queen come into view. 

They’re sitting on their thrones, as per usual, but they aren’t the only ones in the room like they normally are. Instead, there’s another knight, as equally decked out as you, standing before them, arms crossed behind their back. 

“We hope that you can wear these honors proudly and do your duties with pride,” the King says regally, deep, thick voice echoing throughout the room. 

“I will stop at nothing to ensure this kingdom’s greatness,” the knight says back, just as formal. The knight gives a long bow, red sashes around their wrist dangling towards the ground. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think you were being replaced. But of course, that’s not the case. 

“Oh, Y/N,” the Queen says happily, noticing your waiting right in front of the closed doors to the throne room. “Prudent, as always.”

“I aspire to please,” you say with a bow. The King gives you a warm smile, one you’re willing to bet that this other knight isn’t often on the receiving end of. 

“Your timing is impeccable,” the King says, ushering for you to come forward. You do so, taking calculated steps along the red carpet, woven nearly two centuries ago and maintained ever since. “We were just congratulating Sir JK on his recent accomplishments in the Black Forest.”

“Of course,” you say with a nod, refusing to turn to your left so you can stare down this Sir JK for yourself. “The military made groundbreaking strides for our kingdom there.”

“You are the first person to know this, other than him, of course, but we’ve decided to appoint him as the Head of the Royal Knights of the Kingdom of Kalar,” the King says proudly. 

It takes everything in your willpower not to let your mouth drop open. You blink rapidly, making sure that you aren’t in a daze nor still asleep. Sure enough, you’re wide awake and your ears and eyes seem to be working perfectly. The knight next to you is taking over the highest position a knight can hold in your kingdom, one that even you haven’t been given. 

You’ve been replaced. 

“What an incredible honor,” you say, body stiff. You can practically feel the ego of the knight next to you radiating off of him. It makes your nerves twitch. 

“I think so as well,” the King says proudly. He has, luckily, not picked up on your sudden mood change. “So, I’ve called you here to appoint you as his second-in-command.”

You bow graciously at his words, ensuring that, despite your bitter attitude, you are still thankful for this opportunity. Mostly. You are mostly thankful for this opportunity. 

“I’m honored and grateful, Your Majesties,” you say, head facing the carpet. “I would rather die than let down my kingdom.”

“You two are to work together closely,” the Queen advises, words that make your ears bleed. Oh, wonderful, now you have to work hand-in-hand with the person that stole your favor with the royal household right from underneath your feet? You can think of nothing more enjoyable. “Your cooperation alone will ensure the utmost safety and security of this kingdom.”

“We shall do better than our best,” the knight beside you says. His words make your eyes roll back into your head, but you’ve been a bigger brownnoser in your past. You can forgive that, even if the man next to you radiates an energy you’d rather not surround yourself with. 

“I’m pleased to hear it. Your training and work together begins now, so do not hesitate to get to know each other.”

You and him take one baited breath each before turning to each other. You both bow out of obligatory respect, which satisfies the King and Queen well enough. And as you come up, you catch a glimpse of each other’s eyes. His are dark, rounded pupils. They’re hiding something. 

You’re determined to figure out what it is. 

“Call me J,” the knight says the moment you’ve stepped foot outside of the palace. The setting sun shines dimly on the main road, and many of the vendors are beginning to pack up their belongings in order to head home. 

“Okay, J,” you say suspiciously. Everything about him unsettles you slightly. Perhaps it’s the fact that behind the armor and the mask and the badges, he’s extremely good-looking. Or maybe it’s the fact that he swiped the top-ranking knight position right from your fingertips. It must be that. “It’s baffling to me that we haven’t met yet. If you’ve been in such high favor with the King and Queen, then I must have seen you somewhere.” You wonder if he can hear the bitterness lacing your features. You sure hope that he can. 

“I guess our paths just never crossed,” J says, taking a bite out of a peach he just purchased from a farmer’s daughter, who was watching over the stall as her father haggled with another vendor. You watched as he winked to the girl as she gave him two peaches for the price of one. “I’m more on the ground than you are, am I not? You spend much of your time strategizing in the castle.”

“You don’t know what I do,” you huff out. He finishes the peach and wraps up the pip in a piece of cloth from his pocket before tucking it away. There is no place to dispose of it on the main street anyway. 

“Don’t I?” J says with a sly grin, one that makes you want to kick him in the shin and push him into the grass. “Everyone knows what you do, Y/N. You were the King and Queen’s favorite.”

The way he uses the past tense doesn’t go unnoticed by you. 

“But, as it seems, being on the battlefield outweighs directing it from above,” J says. He keeps his eyes off of you and his head held high while your gaze focuses in on him out of pure fury, just another way to hold his newfound superiority over your head. Five minutes next to him and he already seems to know how to push every single one of your buttons. 

“So it seems,” you say bitterly. 

“You and I really must get along, Y/N,” J says casually as you begin to stray from the hustle of the main street. Neither of you seem to have a particularly clear destination in mind, only a path that must be taken for the sake of the greater good. It’s only the prospect that if you do well enough, you’ll impress the King and Queen and regain your favor with them that’s keeping you from socking J in the face and dashing off, taking his second peach with you. “We’ll be spending lots of time together.”

“Doesn’t that sound like the bee’s knees,” you mutter to yourself. For the greater good. 

“Should it not?” J asks innocently. It makes you want to wipe that smirk right off of his face, that knowing tone in his voice. “I certainly don’t have a problem with you, Y/N. Do you happen to have one with me?”

He asks it because he knows that whatever you say will incriminate you. He knows that if you say no, you’re a goddamn liar, and that if you say yes, you’re weak. Weak because you’re admitting that you can’t handle spending time with him even though you have to. Weak because you’re showing him that he has power over you. 

“No, of course not,” you say, plastering the fakest smile on your face. Two can play at this game. “In fact, would it be alright if I had that other peach? I’m absolutely starving.” You can be civil. If he can, at least.

“Sure thing,” J says, unwrapping the peach from the woven napkin the farmer’s daughter gave him.

You reach out to take it from him, but in the blink of an eye his hand dangles it over your head, too far out of reach for you to grab without losing all of your dignity in the process. 

“What do we say, Y/N?” He asks sweetly, like a parent disciplining their child. God, everything he does absolutely aggravates you. 

You take a deep breath and close your eyes. Perhaps you aren’t on the front lines as often as he is, but you sure know how to fight. Maybe now is a good time to remind him that you received the same training he did. 

“Please?” You ask, just as saccharine. 

“As you request, Y/N,” J says with a bow, finally handing it over. 

If this is what the next several months have in store for you, you wonder if maybe sinking down to a lower ranking might be worth it after all, especially if it means you’ll never have to see him and his bouncy hair and dark eyes again. 

You take a bite into the peach. It’s sour. 

Just your luck. 

♚ HERE ♚

When you walk into work the next day, a hush falls over the room. 

It’s not even as if the entire office has been quiet so far this workday, not as if the clock struck nine o’clock and everyone decided to start a competition to see who could shut up for the longest amount of time. 

(For the record, if anyone were to win that competition, it would be Yoongi, who usually only speaks either 1) when spoken to or 2) to let someone know when they’re being dumb via insult. The first person to lose would be Namjoon, because his job description is to boss people around. And he’s awfully good at it.)

The elevator door dinged on the twenty-third floor and you could hear Hoseok’s loud gasps and Jungkook’s cackled laugh even through the glass door that separates your office from the rest of the companies that take up residence in this particular city skyscraper. And then, as your loafers tapped on the hard linoleum floor and the glass door creaked open, the entire office fell silent. 

Quickly, you wonder if you’ve forgotten someone's birthday or if anybody’s due for a celebration of some sort. But nobody’s come to mind and the lights aren’t off, which means that this isn’t the kind of sudden silence that precedes a surprise party. 

This is the kind of sudden silence that makes everybody go, “Oh shit.”

It feels like you’re walking on eggshells as you make your way over to your desk. You’re a couple minutes late due to oversleeping (for reasons that start with J and end with -ungkook) so everybody’s already here, and the office should be as boisterous and rowdy as always. And yet, something’s different. 

You’re left entirely in the dark in concern with what the reasoning is, so you just decide that you’d rather not be the one to break the tense quiet that’s befallen your office and settle down, logging into your work desktop and checking today’s assignments on Slack. 

Five minutes pass and you can’t help but think that, of the many, many days you’ve spent in this office with these people, this has got to be the most awkward by an overwhelmingly long shot. Not even the time Namjoon showed up with his hair dyed purple and traces of a sharpie drawing with a certain phallic design on his cheek was more awkward than this. 

It seems that even Namjoon’s picked up on the vibe of your workspace today, walking in and out without a word. He wheels in a portable whiteboard from one of your meeting rooms and writes down everybody’s assignments on the board in his handwriting, which makes his O’s look like D’s. 

Ten minutes in and this is the quietest your office has ever been in the history of mankind, probably. You’re almost convinced that genuinely no one will speak to each other until five o’clock, when Jimin’s end-of-work alarm goes off and you all pack up and go home, and that today’s workday is an exercise in meditation and peace, two things that are seldom available in your usual office environment. 

And then, out of nowhere, 

“Oh my God, I can’t take it anymore,” Hoseok says loudly, letting out a breath you didn’t even realize he had been holding. It’s highly unlikely that Hoseok spent the past ten minutes holding his breath because he wasn’t allowed to talk under your office’s societal norm of silence, but you honestly can’t put it past him. Speaking is essentially the equivalent of breathing to him. “I’ve been wanting to bother Jimin for not responding to my email from yesterday for the past five minutes. I don’t even know why we’re doing this, it’s clear that Y/N doesn’t care at all about what happened.”

“What don’t I care about?” You blurt out, equally as curious as everyone else also seems to release their baited breaths. 

Hoseok and Jimin immediately begin to argue about appropriate email-response time between coworkers and Yoongi rolls a couple of feet over from his own desk to enlighten you. 

“Jungkook told everyone that you had been docked from your top rank in Kingdom, and the whole office seems to have taken it very seriously,” Yoongi mutters into your ear, making you scrunch up your nose in exasperation. Is he kidding? 

“That’s why everyone was so quiet? Because they didn’t want to bring it up?” 

“I guess so, but I was just quiet because it was nice to have the whole office shut up for a few minutes in the morning,” Yoongi says with a shrug before wheeling back to his own desk, where an anime you vaguely recognize as Haikyuu!! is playing on his monitor. 

Immediately, you whip around to meet eyes with Jungkook, who looks like he’s been expecting your furious glare all morning. He smiles guiltily and can offer you literally nothing other than a mouthed sorry because you two are in a workplace environment where shouting is, generally, socially unacceptable. 

Despite your standing on the game, it’s easy to argue and even easier to prove that your coworkers care much more about Kingdom than you do. The loading screen of the castle in Monet’s art style is Hoseok’s desktop background. Jungkook has a little sword decoration next to his computer, and a couple of his pens are official Kingdom merch that you’re pretty sure he purchased from Hot Topic. Taehyung and Jimin play during their lunch break, the only time in the workday where shouting is socially acceptable, and the both of them came to last year’s Halloween party dressed as knights. Even Namjoon’s in on the game, though he rarely has time to play and usually has no idea what everyone else is referencing when they talk about Kingdom. 

Contrastingly, you enjoy the game but very seldom do you actually broadcast that affection in public. You need to have at least some semblance of personal dignity in this absolute free-for-all of a place of employment. 

So really, it’s no wonder that all of your coworkers acted like it was the end of the world when you got knocked from first place. To them, that would be like having a winning lottery ticket only to drop it onto train tracks and watch as the public transportation system has a field day with it. 

“We’re really sorry, Y/N,” Taehyung says as he comes over and hands you a Tootsie Roll from the stash he keeps in one of his desk drawers for bad days. Apparently, this is a bad day. “Jungkook told us and we didn’t want to put salt in the wound.”

Even if their methodology was weird and slightly unsettling, the sentiment was there. “Thanks guys,” you tell Taehyung with a smile, “but I think you guys took it harder than I did.”

“Of course we did!” Jungkook says with a cry. He is objectively the most torn up out of the lot of you. “We had the top player in Kingdom in our very office, and now what! You were famous, Y/N! Whoever that bozo is who took your place is gonna feel the wrath of Jeon Jungkook and company.”

“Who’s feeling the wrath of Jeon Jungkook and company?” Seokjin asks as he strolls into the office, even later than you. To be fair, it’s looking like he’s got a box of a dozen Dunkin’ Donuts, which is enough for anyone to forgive him, even your hard headed boss. “Is it Jimin? Did he steal your Post-Its again? I saw he had a new pack.”

Jungkook’s eyes widen for barely a second before they narrow in on Jimin, who is already skirting away to find Namjoon so he can use him as a human shield. Jimin has quite the history of taking Jungkook’s office supplies only for a second and then failing to return it. 

“No, but I’m gonna deal with him later,” Jungkook says, fishing through his office supplies on the hunt for his Post-it notes, which may or may not be currently in his possession. “We were just talking about how Y/N got knocked from the top spot in Kingdom by some asshat none of us have ever heard of, and now he’s going to feel the wrath. Of us. Specifically me, but also us.”

“What wrath?” Taehyung jokes. “You’re fresh out of college. You’re practically as intimidating as a baby bunny.”

Jungkook growls just for emphasis, and it only proves Taehyung’s point more. He’s always had a baby face.  

“Well, I brought doughnuts to cheer everyone up,” Seokjin says, opening the box to reveal a dozen doughnuts of varying kinds that is likely to be finished within the next thirty seconds. 

“Oh my God, Kim Seokjin, I love you,” Hoseok says before immediately taking one and a half and bouncing off. 

“Save the pink-frosted one for me, will you? It’s my favorite,” Seokjin requests. He’s not even monitoring the box, too busy putting all his stuff away and getting settled at his desk. He’s basically asking to be robbed. 

“Aw, I wanted that one,” you joke sadly, already going for the chocolate-frosted one with rainbow sprinkles. The box is nearly three-fourths empty. Even Namjoon’s materialized out of nowhere to take the glazed one to eat while he completes the next fifty-four things on his to-do list. 

“Then let’s split it,” Seokjin says without missing a beat. Your heart does the exact opposite. 

“Jimin, you wanna split one with me?” Taehyung asks. 

“Ew, gross, no way, I want a whole one to myself,” Jimin immediately rejects. 

“I’ll go and grab it,” Seokjin says, standing up to nab the doughnut for some evil being (by the name of Jimin) takes it for himself. He plucks it from the box and takes two napkins, too, walking over to your desk as he splits the doughnut in half. 

“For you,” he says casually, like it isn’t making your heart beat out of your chest. 

“Thank you, kind sir,” you say jokingly, taking the doughnut and placing it on the napkin he hands to you. 

“Tell me about this Kingdom thing? You got knocked from first place?” Seokjin asks, making conversation as he lingers by your desk. It’s obvious that nobody’s going to be getting any work done. 

“Yeah, but it’s really nothing special. Everyone was making a huge deal out of it, which you should be very glad you missed, because the first ten minutes of this workday were absolutely silent and it was awful in every way that something can be awful,” you tell him. 

Seokjin laughs, and it warms you from the inside out. “Then I’m glad that I came late,” he says with a chuckle. “I couldn’t imagine a day where Jimin and Taehyung were silent for more than two minutes.”

“I lived through it,” you say, smiling. “Anyway, everyone seems to have gotten over the fact that I’m no longer the top-ranked Kingdom player. I’m kind of down about it myself, just because I worked really hard, but whoever it is that took over, I’m glad for them. I mean, it’s just a game.”

“That it is,” Seokjin says. “How about a toast to your Kingdom-playing skills, and to whoever it is that beat you.”

“Cheers,” you say, holding out your half of the doughnut. 

“Cheers,” Seokjin echoes. 

The two of you clink doughnuts, and they squish together awkwardly. 

“You should bring doughnuts more often,” You muse.

“If it means we don’t have to work and can just talk like this, then I will,” Seokjin says as he takes a bite, already heading back over to his own desk. He waves goodbye with a smile, and only then do you finally indulge. 

Sweet. As always. 

♚ THERE ♚

When you were moved to the Military Tactics Unit, the King and Queen pulled you out of military training in favor of you spending more time working on strategies for the Kingdom’s armies rather than sparring with fellow Knights. It was a wise move on the part of Their Royal Highnesses, who feared losing you to a rebel group or warring kingdom, and you didn’t mind not having to engage in the physicality of training with those that would be spending more time on the battlefield. 

And at the time, you saw it as a much-needed break from hand-to-hand combat training for years on end when you hadn’t set foot on the front lines in months. But now, that decision has decided to come back and bite you where it hurts. 

Because as second-in-command to the Head of the Knights, you (and J, both luckily and unluckily) are tasked with the important duty of supervising the military training of the new recruits. This spells doom in various ways, some of which include (and are not limited to):

Having to spend more time with J. 

Having to spend more time with J without letting all of the recruits know you both vastly dislike each other. 

Having to spend more time with J in a scenario in which there is constant hand-to-hand combat. 

Having to spend more time with J without being able to make up an excuse about needing to attend to urgent military business in order to leave. 

Having to spend more time with J. 

Attempting to remember how to spar.

So, in essence, you’re screwed. 

This is the mindset with which you walk into your very first training session in over six months, a few minutes late, of course. Recently you’ve been attempting to calculate the maximum amount of time you can spend either being tardy or leaving early from events that involve J without you facing any repercussions. So far it’s been working out well. 

When you walk in the door, before you can greet any of the recruits or even offer J a slightly sarcastic wave, he says, “Look who’s finally shown up,” loud enough for all of the recruits to turn to look as you stroll in tardy. 

“I got held up by a vendor on the main road, my apologies,” you lie like a liar. It’s obvious that J does not believe you whatsoever, but it satisfies the recruits, who return to their business as usual. 

“Well, you’re just in time for warm-up,” J says, false positivity radiating throughout every single word. 

You walk up to where he stands at the front of the room, wearing much less of his official armor than he normally is. Right now, he stands in front of you in a plain tan cotton shirt and training pants, similar to the rest of the recruits. It’s really quite jarring, to see him dressed so differently from what he usually wears—dark armor and scarlet red sashes. It makes him seem… almost softer. 

“Thought you might have bailed on me,” J mutters into your ear as the recruits begin to stretch. 

“Have a little more faith in me, for God’s sake,” you grumble in return. You may not like him, but you aren’t about to abandon your responsibilities just because of a little bit of distaste. 

“Do you wanna take warm-up, or should I?” He offers, motioning to the recruits. They all look so nervous, so desperate to prove themselves on the first day of training. It reminds you of yourself, like you’re looking into a mirror and a time machine all at once. 

“You’re the boss,” you say, unabashedly letting the bitterness seep through your tone. “You choose.”

Unsurprisingly, J decides to let you handle the warm-up session, something that is just a precursor to the main event and therefore, not as important. He takes a couple of steps back and follows your instructions as you go through stretches and basic movements in combat, allowing all of the recruits to get a feel for what knighthood is really like in the Kingdom of Kalar. Warm-up was always your least favorite part during training, so boring in comparison to the sparring and hand-to-hand combat that you would engage in soon after. Sure, it was necessary, but when you were a wide-eyed, overeager trainee, you were willing to risk a pulled muscle if it meant you could beat someone up sooner. 

With this in mind, you wrap up the session in a fairly timely manner, letting the recruits do their own stretching after everything absolutely necessary has been covered. It also means that you can sit back and let J do most of the heavy lifting, which, while you’re bitter about him getting all of the attention, is better than having to do it yourself based solely upon memory. You remember combat well enough to handle yourself in the battlefield, but the technicalities of training have completely slipped your memory by now. 

J and everything else about him may leave a sour taste in your mouth, but you have to admit that he’s a good teacher and an even better morale booster. This must come from his experience out in the field, on the front lines, where raising his troops’ spirits came as a necessary quality to develop when times were tough. 

He speaks slowly, explains everything in enough detail to cover all of the bases without losing attention, and frequently opens up the floor for questions. And as per usual, the recruits already begin to cling to him like vines, desperate to soak up every ounce of knowledge that he doles out. 

J doesn’t need the ego boost, that’s for certain. 

“Now that I’ve gone through everything, I believe that the best way to learn how to spar is just to start doing it, even if you haven’t the slightest clue what you’re doing. Despite what you may think about me, experience is the best teacher,” he says with a smile, earning a laugh from the crowd. 

You roll your eyes. 

“Um, sir?” A timid recruit raises her hand, her body curled in on herself. You take one look at her, and know that she’ll come out of her shell soon enough. 

“Yes, a question?” J asks. 

“Would you mind giving a demonstration? Just so we can watch. So we, well, don’t injure ourselves or each other while we’re sparring.”

A demonstration? You blink, having awoken from the trance you had placed yourself in one J stepped up to take over the training session. Doesn’t a demonstration mean… well, you and him?

J seems to come to this realization at the same time that you do, and grins wildly, giddy. He knows exactly how much you’ll hate doing this, which is all the more reason to say yes. “Of course, we’d be happy to. Y/N?”

You hold in the sigh you’ve been wanting to let out for about five minutes now, taking a deep exhale as you turn to face J. You’ve been in close proximity to him before, but you are about to get a whole lot closer. 

“If you say so,” you say with a shrug, trying to keep this as lighthearted and casual as possible. Though, both of those things are likely to be tossed out the window now that you’re about to spar with your worst enemy. 

J grabs a mat from the side of the room to lay down on the floor in front of you, and the two of you step onto it. Instantly, you’re transported back to when you were still in training, bouncing up and down on your feet with your fists raised in front of you, ready to take on the next recruit. You had always been quite good at sparring, back then. 

Now is a completely different story. 

“Are you ready?” J asks as you face each other in front of a crowd of recruits, all of whom are watching you with hawk-like intensity. 

“Guess I can’t say ‘no’, can I?” You joke, though if J offers you a way out of this, you’d gladly take it, shame and dignity be damned. 

“Well then, do your worst.”

He’s an open target. You’ve never been given an opportunity to sock him in the face before now, and you’d absolutely love to take it, but this is a sparring session, not a revenge session. That can be saved for a later date. Instead, you bounce on your feet like a nervous, excitable recruit, and aim for his neck. 

He easily dodges, but you expected that, and counter his attack with your leg. It goes back and forth like this, as your muscle memory kicks in and you remember exactly what sparring was like back in your training sessions. For a few seconds in the middle of it, you genuinely think you and him are on a pretty level playing field. 

And then—

One punch gone wrong and he’s got you lifted up off of the ground and onto his back, having grabbed your wrist at the perfect time to hoist you over his shoulder. You gasp in shock, body not necessarily remembering this part, and then—

He slams the both of you down onto the mat, your back hitting the cushion with a thud as the breathe gets knocked from your lungs. You definitely haven’t done this part in a while. 

You know the recruits are all watching you intently, but you refuse to lose like this, even if this is normally the part where the person pinned underneath the other one surrenders. With both of your arms and all of your force, you attempt to shove J off of you by using your elbow to punch him in the chest. If you go down (which you most certainly will), you will go down with a fight. 

He sees your move coming from a mile away, and immediately pins both of your arms above your head with a simple swish of his hand. The other one is holding up his body by your head as you both stare at each other, breathing heavily. His leg sits in between both of yours, resting up against your thigh, and his head hovers a very dangerous less-than-three inches away from your own. If a particularly near-sighted person were to stumble upon the both of you, you’d be absolutely screwed. 

The both of you gaze into each other’s eyes for a second, the wind knocked out of you. You never quite realized what his face looks like up close. His cheeks are bright red. But it’s a second too long because the recruits have gone silent, refusing to applaud or do anything else to signal that the sparring match is over. 

And then, it feels like a million years pass as J slowly removes himself from on top of your body, standing up and dusting his hands off before leaning down and offering his hand to help you up. Too floored and absolutely speechless to reject his extended palm like you normally would, you grab onto his hand and let him hoist you up, unable to speak. 

“How was that for a demonstration?” J asks the recruits, who are all blinking like they’ve just witnessed something far too shocking for their liking. 

Another trainee, a boisterous young man who walked into today’s session with his energy fully up and his eyes on the prize, raises his hand. “Could you show us again?”

You and J take one look at each other. 

No. Way. 

♚ HERE ♚

Because your office is both tightly knit and also uncannily resembles a cast of grown adults playing various high school stereotypes in a Hallmark movie, every year you do Office Superlatives. Office superlatives are basically an excuse for everyone to come up with a way to insult each other 1) while getting paid to do so and 2) without facing any repercussions whatsoever. 

For three years in a row, your office has designated you as “Most Likely to Spill Coffee on Someone Really Important”, a superlative that came about because on your very first day, you spilled your coffee on the one and only Kim Namjoon, who you then mistook as your boss, and thus ensued the most embarrassing one minute and thirteen seconds of your entire life in front of a bunch of colleagues you would have to see every weekday for the foreseeable future. 

Thankfully, you haven’t spilled your coffee on anyone important since then, even if you do regularly knock over your pencil cup and send every pastel-colored highlighter flying across the hardwood floor. It became such a frequent occurrence that, for April Fool’s Day last year, Taehyung and Jimin taped every single thing on your desk to your desk to see how long it would take you to notice. 

(It took you over three weeks, but that’s besides the point.)

“I know that the saying is ‘the customer is always right’, but this client I’m working with right now is literally wrong,” Taehyung says with a sigh. He collapses back in his office chair, mindlessly playing with the fur of the stuffed Pomeranian dog he keeps on his desk, staring down the email on his desktop. “Like, I’m not Squarespace or Wix. Either you pay me to design your website entirely, or you do it yourself. I’m not a drag-and-drop of a person, and I don’t get paid to be consulted on every font choice.”

“Didn’t you write on your resume that you can identify every standard Microsoft font without being told the name?” Yoongi asks with a frown from across the office. He’s making the most of his gigantic desktop computer, and has a tab open with One Punch Man right next to a Photoshop logo design he’s working on. 

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean I want to do it,” Taehyung says with a frown. “I need someone who knows how to let people down easily.”

“Jimin?” Hoseok pipes up unhelpfully, earning an eraser to the face from Jimin, who is notorious for going on a bunch of first dates and very, very seldom going on a second one. You don’t even think that for the entire time you’ve known him, he’s ever gone a third date with someone. Ever. 

“Do not make fun of my lifestyle choices!” Jimin shouts out defensively. “I just like meeting new people.”

“Yeah,” Hoseok says like a white girl in a Disney Channel Original Movie, “and then never meeting them again.”

“That’s where you’re mistaken,” Jimin tells him pointedly, already beginning to stand up from his office chair to attempt to further convince him that serial-first-dating isn’t all that bad. “Two weeks ago, I saw this guy that I had gone on a date with last year and he told me that his friend was starting up a small pet barbershop business and needed help with the graphic design for his company. Now I’m designing this guy’s logo and backsplash for his wall.” He says matter-of-factly. 

Hoseok frowns. “So, what I’m hearing is that you saw a guy you had gone on a date with last year, and what you got out of it, was more work.”

Jimin opens his mouth to say something else, but he flounders. Hoseok cackles to himself, shaking his head because Jimin’s just proved his point further. 

“I’ll ask Seokjin,” Taehyung says with a sigh. “He could tell me that I’ve lost my job and that I’m getting evicted from my apartment and I would thank him.”

Amen. 

“Hey, where is Seokjin?” Jungkook asks, spinning around in his office chair for the most efficient way to scan the entire office in search of the man. “He was just here watching One Punch Man with Yoongi.”

“I didn’t even notice he had gotten up,” Yoongi says, turning to the empty spot next to him where Seokjin once was. 

“I’ll go look for him, I need to grab something from the printer, anyway,” you volunteer, pushing your chair back, standing up, and avoiding the gazes of anybody in the office who happens to have knowledge of your not-so-secret secret crush. This means that you are staring down at the lines of the wooden planks in the floor as you walk over to the back hallway, because every single person in the room currently has at least… well�� some insight. 

“He’s all yours, Y/N,” Taehyung wolf whistles, making you roll your eyes as you head down the hallway.  

Too busy counting the planks that make up the hardwood floor and hoping that you’ll maybe be able to identify Seokjin by the shoes he’s wearing rather than anything else, you don’t look at where you’re going as you make a beeline for the printing room. That is, you make a beeline for the printing room until you crash right into an unsuspecting colleague. 

“Oh, shit!” Said colleague cries out.

Oh God. 

You look up to find Seokjin standing in front of you, a nearly-empty cup of low-grade office coffee in his hand, and a growing brown stain on his pale blue dress shirt. One look on the floor and there’s a puddle of coffee gathered at your feet, wet splotches on your flats and his loafers. 

“Y/N, are you alright?” Seokjin asks, eyes wide and apologetic as he immediately searches for some place to put down his coffee to avoid any more casualties. He looks right at you, making you want to curl in on yourself, before his eyes train down to your torso.

Only then do you realize he’s not shamelessly staring at your chest, but rather at the massive brown stain on the front of your blouse, quickly seeping into the fabric, the scalding temperature of the coffee having gone right over your head the moment you realized who exactly it was that you crashed into. 

“Uh…” you stammer, brain crashing as everything that’s just happened in the past thirty seconds catches up to you all at once. 

“Oh my God, I’m such a mess,” Seokjin says, fumbling awkwardly as he finally finds a trash can to toss his sad lump of a coffee cup into.

No you’re not, you want to tell him, but the words don’t come out and you’re left standing there, looking sort of like you blame him for everything, when in reality, you just have no idea how to function in front of him. 

“Coffee stains,” Seokjin says, hands fishing through his seemingly bottomless pants pockets (he could probably fit an entire Nintendo Switch and its dock in there) until he pulls out this measly little thing that vaguely resembles your orange highlighter. “Here, I have a Tide To-Go pen.”

Before you can tell him that you can just deal with the stain and wash it in the privacy of your own home where you don’t look like a bumbling idiot, he grabs your hand and pulls you into the gender neutral bathroom nearby, locking the door as the light flickers on. 

“Here, do you need help?” Seokjin asks, holding out his Tide To-Go pen as he wets a paper towel made of entirely recycled materials and begins fruitlessly dabbing at his shirt. 

“I’m alright, really,” you insist, staring into the mirror and trying desperately to avoid the fact that Seokjin’s shirt becomes transparent when it’s wet. Maybe quitting your job and moving to another city doesn’t sound unappealing after all. “I can just get it out with OxiClean at my apartment, Seokjin, seriously.”

“Are you sure? That’s what the Tide To-Go pen is for,” Seokjin says, holding it out towards you again as a final attempt to get you to use it. 

“No offense, Seokjin, but I don’t know if the Tide To-Go pen is even going to make a dent in the stain on my shirt,” you chuckle, the only thing you can think of to get him to stop offering the thing to you. The Tide To-Go pen is meant for when you accidentally get a bit of ketchup onto your jeans as you move the french fry from your plate to your mouth. Not when you’ve got a giant coffee stain on the front of your shirt. 

“God, I’m so sorry, Y/N,” Seokjin says, unbuttoning the top two buttons of his shirt to try and get a better grip on the fabric as he relentlessly scrubs at it. God help you. He may as well take the whole thing off at this point—though you really, really hope that he doesn’t. “I’m such a klutz.”

“No, it’s my fault, I wasn’t looking where I was going,” you tell him. You still know that you passed by 107 wooden planks before you crashed into him, because that is what you do when you don’t want to look anyone in the eye. 

“Seriously, though, I had the cup of coffee. I feel really bad, I could pay to get it dry cleaned for you?” He offers, eyes wide and in search of some way to make it up to you. 

“No, no, that’s not necessary. I’m can handle a stain, Seokjin. I’m an adult. I live in my own apartment and everything,” you say firmly, refusing to accept anything else from him. God, if he paid for your dry-cleaning, you’d never be able to live that down. “Maybe I’ll finally stop being voted Most Likely to Spill Coffee on Someone Important,” you joke, trying to make light of the fact that you’re standing in the tiny gender-neutral bathroom together, Seokjin’s practically got half of his transparent dress shirt unbuttoned, and you both have massive and very conspicuous brown stains on your tops. All wonderful, wonderful things. 

At this point, Seokjin stares down at his shirt and, quite frankly, just gives up, smoothing out his shirt as best as he can and tossing the poor, now-coffee-colored paper towel away. 

“I suppose it’s high time we give you a break for always knocking over that pencil cup of yours,” Seokjin jokes back as he opens the door, motioning for you to leave first. 

“We should invest in some Velcro for it,” you suggest, making Seokjin chuckle as he shuts the door behind him. 

“Uh… what the fuck?” 

The two of you are stopped in your tracks by a particularly suspicious Taehyung, who just witnessed the two of you walk out of the same bathroom with both of your clothes fairly askew. 

“It’s not what it looks like,” you immediately tell him, eyes wide. Count on him to get the wrong idea. 

“Okay,” Taehyung says, eyes narrowed. “Sure.”

“Taehyung, come on, I spilled coffee on the both of us,” Seokjin attempts, but Taehyung is absolutely not having it. 

“That’s what they all say,” he says cryptically, nodding as he heads to the printer room with his eyes still narrowed. He glares at the both of you until he rounds the corner, out of sight, and by then your cheeks have heated up so badly you think you might actually start sweating.

“Now the whole office is going to think we’re dating,” you say, somewhat jokingly but also somewhat seriously. There’s no way Taehyung’s going to be able to keep his mouth shut for any longer than the next five minutes. 

Seokjin laughs, looking at you and shrugging. “There are worse things, right?”

Are there?

♚ THERE ♚

“Oh, Y/N!”

You inhale. 

Of all of the places in the Kingdom that J has not yet infiltrated and ruined for you, the small cafe on the edge of the kingdom borders has to have been the last one. You discovered it while you were on night watch as a baby knight, a task given to those too dedicated to the job to release but not yet prepared enough to fight on the front lines. It’s a quiet place, open more hours of the day than closed, owned by an old lady with no other family to take care of the business. You’ve already promised her that after she passes, you will immediately begin funding the cafe yourself, too much money on your hands and not enough wonderful places like this to spend it on.

When days are loud and hectic, when the King and Queen and all of their military advisors are stressed and have been snapping at you all day, this is where you come. The old lady keeps her door open especially for you (at least that’s what she tells you), always with a steaming cup of jasmine tea and a wise old story to tell you. Sometimes, you’ll get to tell a story back, and you exchange words of wisdom from a knight at the highest ranking in the kingdom and an elder with many years of experience in the kingdom behind her. She always tells you, “keep your eyes wide and your heart open, because things can only enter it if you’re looking out for them.”

You’ve held those words close to your soul ever since the first time you heard them. 

But when your eyes are wide and staring down a certain knight in the kingdom who seems to have stumbled upon your one sacred place, you’re a little bothered, to say the least.

You exhale.

“Fancy seeing you here,” you say sourly, the scalding tea burning your tongue as you take a sip. 

“I’ve never seen this place before,” J admits helplessly, already bowing to the old lady who runs the place. He introduces himself handsomely, and much like everyone else bewitched by his good looks and unrealistically charismatic personality, she immediately warms up to him. 

“I wish it could stay that way,” you mumble to yourself, far too quiet for anyone except you and your tea to hear. “It’s far away,” you say to him as the lady ushers him to the seat next to yours, already promising him tea on the house. You sigh. “Wouldn’t expect you to go hunting for a nice tea place when there are so many wonderful places in the city.”

“I guess it’s nice to branch out,” J says with a shrug. “I have to say that I don’t really go out to cafes all that often. Too busy.”

“You know I understand how that goes,” you tell him honestly. For once, it’s something you can actually relate to. “But I think that it’s important to take a break from our duties and just relax. We don’t have much time to do that, you know.”

The lady brings over tea, and J insists he pay her for it despite her insistence for him not to. She shuffles off into the back before he can even get out some coins.

“Tell me, where can I leave this? I feel terrible not paying,” J asks you. It catches you off guard, really, mostly because he seems to be the kind of person who walks around the center square winking at every vendor in the hopes of receiving free merchandise. 

“Oh,” you say, embarrassingly speechless. “Well, I suppose I could take it and give it to her. If we left rather soon then we could simply leave it on the counter for her to find. It’s likely that she won’t come back out for a while, since I have company.”

“Am I your company, Y/N?” J asks, almost teasingly. It makes you want to chuck your cup of jasmine tea into his face. 

“Don’t think too much of it,” you advise him, a warning to tell him to knock it off. “We’re just here together.”

“Lucky us,” J says, holding up his cup of tea for a toast. You indulge him (begrudgingly so), letting your glasses clink together as you both finish a much needed warm drink on a chilly afternoon. 

Too soon, the respite of the cafe is broken by a knock at the door. You both turn to find a messenger waiting patiently outside the cafe, motioning for J to come and speak to him. 

“If you’ll excuse me,” J says, scooting back his chair and heading over, shutting the door behind him. 

The moment the door closes, the old lady reappears from the back of the room, collecting your finished cups as you both listen intently to the murmuring outside. 

“That young man mentioned that the two of you spend lots of time together,” the muses, cleaning the cups with a wet rag. She’s got a knowing look in her eye, like she’s picked up on something the both of you seem to have overlooked. 

“We’re both knights,” you correct. It’s important to you that she knows that you don’t spend time together out of personal preference. It’s merely obligation. “So we see each other quite often.”

“I’ve never seen him around before,” she says pointedly, “but he seems to know quite a lot about you.”

“Oh, not really,” you insist. How could he? You’ve barely known him a month. Still, it’s clear that the lady doesn’t believe you. 

“As you say,” she says, skeptical. 

You’re about to open your mouth and reject her notions further, but then the door opens up again, and J looks terribly apologetic as he walks inside, joining your side. “We’ve been called in.”

As per usual, the Kingdom appears with impeccable timing to ruin the rest of your afternoon. It has a striking tendency to do that. 

“For what?” You ask, exasperated. J doesn’t look much happier. 

“Criminal hearings,” J says, and the words make you you toss your head back and sigh. 

Criminal hearings and its many, many procedures are quite possibly your least favorite part of being a top-ranked royal knight. With your knowledge of the ins and outs of the military and the kingdom’s inner workings, as well as with you being an advisor to the generals and the King and Queen, you are often obligated to attend these, just in case there is a desperate need for the technicalities of military crimes that no one else can provide. It is, admittedly, extremely boring, since you can’t really offer any sort of insight or opinion on the actual criminal and their crime at hand. 

“Fine,” you say, suddenly much less energized than you were approximately thirty seconds ago. “I suppose that we’ll have to be on our way.”

“Ma’am,” J says, attracting the attention of the old lady behind the counter. He holds out some coins, palm facing up. “Please accept this from me. I couldn’t leave without paying you for your wonderful tea and service.”

“Oh, pish posh,” the lady says with a shake of her hand. “Any friend of Y/N’s is well-deserving of some tea. You both work very hard. You should take any opportunity that presents itself to relax, and enjoy being young.”

“Please,” J insists, placing the coins in her hand, “a token of my gratitude. We shall return soon, right Y/N?” He gives your shoulder a nudge, making you look up at him. Return? You’d be blessed if J forgot about this place entirely, though you know that he’s bound to come back soon. 

Perhaps there are worse things than losing your favorite cafe to him. Perhaps, you can simply learn to enjoy his company, instead. 

“Of course, how could I resist?” You say, waving goodbye to the lady at the counter. “We really must be going, but I shall see you soon.”

“Take care of yourselves, the both of you!” She sees you off with a smile and a wink directed right at you for a cause you aren’t too keen on picking up. Old ladies are always so vague. 

When you walk outside, you’re surprised to find yourselves alone. “Where’s the messenger guard?” You ask, looking around to see if he’s found a tree to take respite from the sun under. 

J laughs, warm and hearty. “I sent him off, told him we would be able to make it ourselves.”

“Oh, alright,” you say with a shrug, already beginning to trudge the familiar path towards the castle. 

You take six steps before realizing that J is neither next to you nor following you, still standing on the porch of the cafe as the sun makes his hair glimmer a dark caramel in the light. 

“Aren’t you coming?” You turn around to ask, an eyebrow raised as you tap your foot on the cobblestone road. 

“Have you ever skipped a criminal hearing before, Y/N?” J asks, and the very notion of bailing makes your eyes go wide. 

“Skipped?” You clarify. 

“That’s what I said,” J confirms. 

“No…” You trail off, feeling more and more like the try hard you once were while training, wide-eyed and eager to prove yourself. Standing in front of him, rocking back and forth on your toes and twiddling your fingers as he steps off of the porch, taking long strides to reach you, makes you feel so nervous. With every step he takes closer to you, your heart begins to beat faster, faster, faster. 

“Well,” J says, reaching out his hand to take hold of your own. “Would you like to start?”

When you were stationed on the Kingdom’s borders, you thought you had explored every nook and cranny of Kala. You had wandered through forests, across rivers, and into small edge villages with goods you had never even heard of before. You thought you had seen it all. 

Clearly, you were mistaken. 

J pulls you off of the cobblestone path and immediately takes you into the woods that surround the cafe, weaving past trees and ferns and grass alike. This time of year, the forest is ripe with greenery, right when summer is coming to an end but the leaves have yet to begin to fade to brown. Even without landmarks or a path to guide him, J seems to know exactly where the two of you are going, like he’s taken this road a million times before. And still, you had never seen him before this. 

It’s a wonder that the two of you missed each other for so long. 

“Where are we going, J?” You ask, laughing as the exhilaration of skipping your duties in favor of a fun day in the forest begins to flow through your veins. You’ve never done this before. 

“Just wait, you’ll see,” he says cryptically, taking you down a large hill. You must be out of the Kingdom borders by now, with how far you’ve been going, and yet, no one had ever thought to place guards in this area. 

Five more minutes of travelling and you’re near convinced that J is about to take you to some cave in the floor of the forest and murder you, when he tugs you up a hill to reveal—

It’s a clearing with grass so green you’d almost think it was enchanted. The leaves of the trees whisper to each other, voices flowing with the wind that breezes by each and every one, saying hello to the branches as they rustle. Tall grass and ferns grow on the edge of the forest, disguising the clearing to anyone who wouldn’t bother to keep looking, make their way through the overgrowth and into the oasis. 

Never in a million years would you have been able to find this place on your own. 

“What do you think?” J asks excitedly as he pulls you into the middle of the clearing, where the leaves of the trees have left an opening for the sun to shine through, a halo in the middle of the forest. 

“I—I’m speechless,” you say, eyes wandering from every piece of bark to every blade of grass. You’ve always loved your Kingdom and its beauty, from the extravagant castle to the little shacks on the border, but this is more than that. This isn’t just beauty—it’s magic. “How did you find this place?”

“Strayed from the pack during military training outside,” he says guiltily. Clearly, skipping out on responsibilities has become a habit of J’s. 

“Unbelievable,” you say, fingers tracing along the wildflowers growing close to the forest floor. You take a seat in the middle of it all, letting the sun stream through the leaves as the flowers open their petals at your touch. It’s as if every single living thing has been enchanted—like none of this could exist naturally. 

“Do you like it?” J asks, taking a seat on the stone next to you. He reaches down to run his fingers through the grass, letting the soft dirt gather on his skin. 

“I don’t think I have the words,” you tell him. You thought you had found a hidden respite from the hustle and bustle, but he has found not just a respite. He’s found a home. “Why would you show me this place?”

“What do you mean?” J asks. He finds a small yellow flower, a buttercup, and plucks it from the ground, twirling it between his fingers.

“I mean, why would you bring me here? Wouldn’t you want to keep this place all for yourself?” You inquire, curious. Certainly, that’s what you would do. 

J pauses for a moment, staring down at the buttercup in his hands. Wordlessly, he hands it to you, watches as your fingers touch his own, taking the buttercup from him. You twirl it between your fingers, and wonder what all of this means. 

“No,” he eventually answers. “Because a place like this deserves to be shared with the people that deserve to see it.”

♚ HERE ♚

[You have 5 unread messages]

Jungkook (5:53PM): Is it still acceptable to talk about Kingdom at company dinners? Jungkook (5:53PM): Is the ban that Yoongi instated last company dinner still going? Do you think he’ll be mad if I talk about how I just got a bunch of gold from solving the mystery of the time capsule?

Yoongi (5:55PM): If I have to sit through another company dinner where everyone is talking about Kingdom and nobody is talking about anime or my dog Holly I will lose it

Taehyung (5:57PM): You’re coming, right? You mentioned having a thing that ended pretty late this evening so you weren’t sure you’d make it

Seokjin (6:03PM): Excited to see you tonight! Promise I won’t spill anything on you tonight haha

Your office’s annual company dinner is the one and only opportunity you, as employees, get per year to talk about whatever you like in front of your colleagues, all while getting a meal paid for by your wonderfully unassuming, hardheaded boss. It is both a celebration of camaraderie and, of course, being employed, and a chance for your personal group to talk about Kingdom for two hours straight without repercussions. 

Needless to say, many of you are looking forward to it. 

To Jungkook (6:07PM): Yes, but only if we get to talk about how I’m still the best at the game out of everyone To Jungkook (6:07PM): Also, don’t forget to talk to Yoongi about My Hero Academia I know that you secretly love it

To Yoongi (6:08PM): Bring earplugs? Or maybe a manga book to get the conversation going?

To Taehyung (6:08PM): Yeah, I’ll be there To Taehyung (6:08PM): Probably be late though To Taehyung (6:09PM): Save me a seat!

To Seokjin (6:10PM): Not sure if I can promise the same thing! Fingers crossed we make it out tonight unscathed by scalding hot liquids

The company dinner starts at 6:30, which means that it really starts at 7:00 by the time everyone arrives, but even still, you’ll probably be late because you are actually doing last-minute laundry, and not attending a special event like you had told Taehyung. Sue you. Your clothes were dirty. 

Standing in the middle of your apartment wearing the slouchiest clothes you own, you wonder if it’s even worth going when you know that you will probably 1) be late and 2) have to endure two hours worth of Kingdom talk and other things that leave you thoroughly embarrassed, like your nonexistent love life. 

You’ve never skipped out on a company dinner before, but then again, never have all of your colleagues been so on top of you about your very insignificant, not at all soul-crushing, extremely minimal, super unimportant, tiny little infatuation with a certain coworker, so there’s that to consider. 

Not to mention the fact that your entire office genuinely believes that the two of you hooked up in the gender neutral bathroom during the middle of the workday, which is a circumstance so improbable you have no idea how Taehyung managed to convince everybody that that was actually what happened. It’s not as if your coworkers didn’t see the ridiculous brown stains on the front of your and Seokjin’s shirts, or didn’t smell the office coffee stench all over the both of you. 

So, for once in your life, you are genuinely considering just staying at home, finishing your laundry, and eating the frozen veggie burritos you bought from Costco two weeks ago. It sounds very tempting.

This thought is immediately combated by the fact that you usually have some of the most fun during the year at this company dinner, and a free meal at a nice, upscale restaurant is something that you would normally never pass up. But then again, Seokjin will be there and he will be dressed very nicely, and the rest of your coworkers will also be there, and they will be relentless. 

Jungkook (6:33PM): Tae said you’d be late but please come soon! We can’t talk about Kingdom without the best player present!!!! Jungkook (6:33PM): Oh no Namjoon sees me with my phone

And out of every possible text you could have received that night, that one is the one that convinces you to pull out the same dress you’ve worn to the company dinner (it’s not as if anyone else will remember) every other year, tug it on, and head out. Your Costco veggie burritos will have to wait for another stay-at-home night. 

You arrive fashionably late as always, walking into the restaurant and just asking for directions to where the “big group of loud office workers” is, a term easily identifiable by the scrambled hostess with fifteen different tables to seat all at once. She points you to the back room, where you can already hear Hoseok’s laughter from outside in the main dining area. 

“You guys are loud,” you say in lieu of a greeting, everyone letting out cries of “Y/N!” and “You made it!” as you look around for the last empty seat. 

“Here, saved you a spot right next to me,” Seokjin volunteers helpfully, motioning to the empty velvet chair next to him. In the seat next to that sits Taehyung, who is grinning guiltily, like he didn’t just dupe you into thinking he had saved you a seat next to him and someone else other than the person you were hoping not to embarrass yourself in front of. 

“Thinking of me when I’m not even here, how thoughtful,” you say, walking over and sending a glare Taehyung’s way as you take your seat, the glass at the top right corner of your placemat already filled. 

“How could we forget about you?” Seokjin reasons, and he says it so casually but it makes your heart flutter all the same. 

When Seokjin’s finally started talking to Hoseok and Jimin on his other side, the two of them attempting to explain the inner workings of Kingdom to him (to little avail, as per usual), you round on Taehyung, who is every bit the best wingman and the worst friend in the entire world. 

“How could you do this to me?” You hiss at him, trying not to attract the attention of the man sitting on the opposite side of you. 

“I said I had saved you a seat!” Taehyung says defensively, clearly enjoying himself way too much. 

“This was not what I had in mind,” you tell him pointedly. 

“Obviously, otherwise I wouldn’t have hidden it from you,” Taehyung says. He motions to Seokjin, who’s laughing at something that Jimin’s just said, eyes crinkled into half moons as the waiter places the cocktail he’s ordered down in front of him. “You know, it’s not so bad having a crush on him, right?”

“He is our coworker and way out of my league, of course it is,” you remind Taehyung. 

Taehyung shrugs you off with a wave of his hand. “Give yourself some credit, Y/N. You’re hot. Embrace it.”

“I will not, thank you very much. This conversation makes me want to hurl,” you say as normally as possible, blinking to show your discomfort to Taehyung. 

“You need to stop being so afraid of what might actually come out of this,” Taehyung says, a reassuring hand on your arm. “You never know what might happen.”

“What’s definitely going to happen is that I’m going to feel too cold from the vent above my head, and we’re going to switch seats,” you say. You immediately make to stand up, but Taehyung grabs onto your wrist and looks up at you like a child begging for candy in a supermarket. 

“Please, Y/N? Just give it a try, and if you hate it by the time the entree comes around, we can switch. Alright?” He asks, a simple compromise to get you to sit back down. 

You sigh. You suppose it wouldn’t hurt to shoot your shot, no matter how terrible your aim is. 

“I didn’t order any soup, so hopefully we can last through this dinner without ruining more of our clothes,” Seokjin says, an icebreaker to ease the obvious tension between the two of you. He breaks down your walls so easily, carves out a path in the side of it to waltz right through. 

“I don’t know,” you say sarcastically,” you better finish that cocktail soon or we might both be in big trouble.”

Seokjin chuckles, warm and full, and takes another sip of the fruity drink for good measure. “Don’t know how you keep getting crowned Most Likely to Spill Coffee on Someone Important when I’m here, a walking coffee volcano.”

“When the superlatives roll around, I’ll petition the court and see if we can crown you instead,” you promise. 

“I’m honored. I’ll cherish that title for as long as I live,” Seokjin jokes, bowing to you just for good measure. “This is nice, you know.”

“What is?” You ask, peering down at the large group menu. Everything looks awfully delicious and awfully expensive, so you just go for a classic pasta dish and hope that Taehyung orders something different, so you can try each other’s. 

“Sitting next to you,” Seokjin says like it’s obvious, making you blink at your menu like it’s just offended your entire family ancestry. “I don’t think we’ve ever been paired up like this at a company dinner.”

“Well, there’s a first time for everything, right?” You ask hopefully. 

“It’s nice,” Seokjin says. “I feel like we don’t get to talk very much at work.”

“You said you’d bring more doughnuts,” you remind him. Seokjin has held up on his promise, actually, and since the first round of doughnuts, he’s brought on two more occasions to brighten up everybody’s day. 

“I think I need a better excuse than doughnuts,” Seokjin says to himself. “I can’t keep going to Dunkin’ right before work, pretty soon all of the workers will know me by name and that is a level that I’m not sure I’d like to reach yet.”

“Don’t feel bad,” you tell him, a hand instinctively coming to rest on his shoulder as comfort. “Some of the Costco employees recognize me even when I’m wearing my sunglasses inside.”

“You wear your sunglasses inside Costco?” Seokjin asks with a laugh. 

“Sometimes I just forget to take them off when I walk from my car into the store!” You say defensively. “It’s really bright in there, sue me.”

“No, no, I think it’s cute,” Seokjin assures you. “Maybe being recognized by the Dunkin’ employees won’t be that bad. At least they probably wouldn’t know who I was if I had my sunglasses on.”

“I’m being attacked, I’m pretty sure,” you say pointedly. 

“Only affectionately. You’re still ridiculously endearing.” Seokjin says with a chuckle, smiling at you as Jungkook calls your name to tell him something about Kingdom that he’s forgotten. But even as Seokjin gets tugged into another conversation and you get pulled into your own, your brain can’t help but replay the sound of his voice in your head, over and over. 

You’re still ridiculously endearing.

“Hey, Jungkook,” Jimin asks over a mouthful of complimentary bread with olive oil. “Did you ever figure out who knocked Y/N from the top spot in Kingdom?”

“No,” Jungkook cries out, suddenly thirsty for justice. “It makes me so mad that I don’t know who they are, especially since they’re getting all the in-game brand deals and Y/N gets nothing,” he says pointedly as he motions to you, clearly exasperated for a cause that wasn’t even his to begin with. 

“Jungkook, it’s not a big deal, it’s just a game,” you remind him, the table too wide to reach over and pat his hand comfortingly. “I still get a lot of things in second place.”

“What’s Jungkook talking about?” Seokjin asks, motioning to where Jungkook seems to be on a rampage as Jimin and Namjoon listen in. 

“Oh, Kingdom, like always,” you say fondly. “He’s determined to figure out the name of the person who dethroned me.”

“Is that so?” Seokjin asks with a laugh. “He’s got his work cut out for him. How many people play Kingdom?”

“Hundreds of thousands, probably,” you say. “Maybe millions.”

“Millions of people, and somehow we ended up with the second-best player in the game right at this table,” Seokjin says with a grin. “We should be honored.”

“It’s just a game,” you remind him, even though the sentiment is awfully sweet. “I think I much prefer the real world, don’t you?”

Seokjin smiles at you as the waiter comes around to offer him another cocktail. 

“Another one, sir?”

Seokjin looks down at the cocktail, then at your unstained clothes, and he shakes his head, laughing to himself. “No, I’m alright, thank you.” The waiter nods, taking his empty glass and moving onto another coworker. He looks at you, and his eyes are swimming in stars. “I think that I do, too.”

Dinner ends with Hoseok and Jungkook gobbling down everybody’s leftovers, your boss paying the bill without even glancing at the check, and you laughing alongside Seokjin, who keeps your end of the table entertained with fantastic stories about his past job at a luxury department store and less-than-fantastic dad jokes that he prides himself for coming up with on the spot. 

Taehyung had nudged you when the entrees had come around, motioning to the vent above your head, but you hadn’t even noticed the cold. 

“Ugh,” Jimin says with a groan as the group of you head outside once everyone is finished, the chilly night air hitting your skin as you open the door. “I hate that we could only schedule this for a Wednesday, because it means we have to come into work again tomorrow.”

“When else are we supposed to schedule it for?” Yoongi asks with a frown. “Did you even look at the When2Meet? Nobody had any free time for the rest of the month.”

“Well, if everyone’s cleared their schedules just for this dinner, anyone want to keep the celebration going at my apartment? I just bought a box of wine from Trader Joe’s,” Jimin asks. 

“On a Wednesday?” Yoongi says, nose scrunched up in disapproval. 

“Yeah, when else would you drink boxed Trader Joe’s wine?” Jimin responds like it’s obvious. 

Everyone begins to either disperse back to their cars or get Jimin’s address so they can get wine drunk on a Wednesday like you’re supposed to, leaving you and Seokjin out of the crowd. 

“Are you heading over to Jimin’s?” He asks you as you begin to walk towards your cars, taking a step every five seconds as you watch Jimin tell everybody his exact address, loudly and slowly enough for any burglars and axe-wielding murderers within a three-mile radius to also hear him. 

“No, I think I’ll just head home for the night,” you say, checking the time on your phone. It’s nearly ten, already. Where did the time go?

“Ah, then I guess I will, too,” Seokjin says. “Oh, here’s my car.”

“You parked close,” you comment. 

“I thought that I’d be late because I arrived at 6:45, but I was the second one here,” Seokjin tells you, making you laugh. 

“Sounds like our office, doesn’t it?”

“I guess. We’ll have to do this again sometime just to see how late everyone shows up,” Seokjin says. 

“Promise I’ll be early next time,” you say. 

“Next time, then?” Seokjin asks, already opening his car door and beginning to step inside. You stand on the sidewalk in front of him, watching as he pulls the door shut and waves to you through the windshield. A next time sounds awfully nice. 

“Next time.”

♚ THERE ♚

The King and Queen never do find out about your truancy, though you have to admit, you were never really worried about that in the first place. Not when J was grinning as he told you he had sent the messenger guard off, laughing as he dragged you through the forest, smiling as he twirled a buttercup between his fingers. He had done it before and he’ll do it again, and look where that’s gotten him. 

Maybe you could learn a thing or two from him. 

Still, despite your high ranks, the two of you can’t avoid your responsibilities forever. Eventually, you will always have to report back to the castle, get a new assignment, and start the cycle all over again. 

“At least they’re letting us go together,” J reasons as the two of you nod to the knights standing guard at the border of the kingdom, by the main forest that leads directly to a kingdom with whom your relationship isn’t all that strong. No wars have broken out between your two lands in years, but never has stability been one-hundred percent earned, which means that both kingdoms must be on high alert. You never know when a rebel group will attempt to invade the land. 

“Like I’d want to spend any more time with you,” you joke, giving J a nudge in the side as you stroll along the forest edge. In the middle of the day with the sun high above your heads, neither of you are particularly worried about being attacked. It would be foolish for an enemy group to do so, especially at a time when the kingdom’s guards are the most awake. 

“Am I really such awful company?” J asks, and he’s smiling but he asks in such a way, it’s almost as if he means it. The two of you have never been on the best of terms, but you’ve found yourself growing out of the competition-fueled rage you once always found yourself in whenever you were near him. No longer is regaining your first place your most important priority. Rather, it’s doing your job and doing it correctly, upholding the duties that the kingdom has entrusted you with, regardless of who’s by your side. 

(Though, even if you’d never admit it, J makes quite good company, most of the time.)

“No,” you insist, a hand reaching out to rub comfortingly at his forearm. “You aren’t.”

“You think so?” J says with a laugh, almost bitter. “I must say, you’ve never been that fond of me.”

“You may have charmed your way into the rest of the kingdom’s hearts, but I needed some convincing,” you remind him, reminiscent of how he would tease you constantly, dangle his promotion right above your head like a trophy you’d never be able to reach. 

“Did I do a good job, then?” J asks, hands in his pockets. It’s a quiet day, today. Even the birds have begun to murmur. 

“You did quite alright,” you say, nudging him. “Though I must say, I absolutely hate how all of the vendor’s daughters fawn all over you and give you free items like fruit, and jewelry. I’m never given that treatment.”

“You just don’t have my naturally charming, handsome, soft looks,” J says, posing in front of you as the two of you walk. The obnoxiousness of it all makes you almost want to chuck the apple you’re about to eat right at his face. 

“What do you mean? I can be charming,” you say with a pout. You pretend to flip your hair, just for emphasis. 

“You and I are different types of charming,” J says casually. “You’re strong. You speak loudly and clearly and you don’t ever flounder. You always know exactly what you want, and know the best way to get it. You aren’t afraid of anything, and are always willing to take on any challenge that comes your way. It’s… it’s different.”

And even if he thinks you never flounder, never stumble over your words or stutter, for once, you can’t think of anything to say. You’re walking along the forest’s edge with a knight you had convinced yourself that you would never befriend, and he’s just told you all of these wonderful things about yourself you never would have known he’d thought otherwise. 

J’s right. It is different. This is different. And you can hardly remember when it started to be like this. Only one day, it was just like this, and it never stopped. 

“Do you really think all of those things about me?” You ask, staring down at your boots as you walk along the dirt path, kicking small pebbles as you go. They go flying off into the grass, never to be seen again. But sometimes, you come across one you had kicked a few steps back, and you try again, earnestly hoping to see how far it will go with you by its side. 

“I mean, well…” J says, stumbling. “I don’t just think those things about you, you know? They’re facts, aren’t they? Those are things that, well, I suppose, everyone would think about you. Right?”

“You know what I think?” You ask, looking up at him. His dark hair shimmers in the light, like reflects of gold have been sprinkled amongst the ink black. “We are different types of charming. You’re charismatic and friendly, always willing to listen. You accept things graciously and are always grateful for what you receive. You pay people back whatever they’ve given you, even if it’s not the same item, even if it’s just the thought that counts. You always want to do better, and then you do. You work hard for each thing you get, and you never take it for granted.”

J grins down at you. “But you don’t actually think that, do you?”

“Nope,” you say, shaking your head. “Just facts.”

“Just facts,” he echoes. 

When did talking to him become so easy? When did it all start coming to you naturally?

“Did you ever hate me?” He asks you, curious. He knows, he must, that that’s not the case anymore. 

“No,” you admit, perhaps more to yourself than to him. “I think that I just hated that you were better than me. But… like you said, it’s different now. Now, I don’t care if you’re better than me. That sort of competition makes me a better soldier. You make me a better soldier.”

“Really?” J wonders, genuine. His eyes are wide in surprise, shocked at such a candid admission coming from you. To be honest, you’re surprised with yourself, as well. “I had no idea.”

“Keep it up, then. You know—”

A taut string let go. 

The wind stopping in its tracks. 

And an arrow headed right for your heart. 

“Oh my God!” You shout quickly, unable to do much except alert the man next to you that the two of you are in imminent danger. 

Before you can even blink, close your eyes and wait for the tip to pierce your heart, J is pushing you out of the way, sending you flying to the forest floor and he pulls his bow from his back, sending a steel arrow flying in the direction of the woods. You both wait there, only a second but it’s a second too long, until you hear a thud on the ground, a final breath, and then—

Silence. 

The moment you’re both positive the assailant is dead, J turns to you, eyes wide. “Y/N, are you alright?”

“I’m fine, I’m alright,” you assure him, telling him (and yourself) over and over as he pulls you up from the ground. Your heart is racing and you can’t quite seem to catch your breath, but you’re alive and so is he, and that’s all that matters. “Are you?”

“Yes,” he immediately says. “As long as you are.”

You look behind him to find an arrow stuck in a tree, but what alarms you more is the sight of blood on the tip. Immediately, you turn back to J, only to find the side of his arm covered in blood, bleeding right through his armor.

“Oh my God, J, you’re hurt,” you cry out, fumbling for something to stop the flow.

“I’m alright, Y/N, really,” he insists, placing a hand on top of your own, rubbing the back of it with his thumb for good measure. “It’s just a graze. I’ll be fine.”

“We have to take you back to the kingdom,” you push, already beginning to head back towards the gate. 

“I’ve suffered worse injuries, Y/N, seriously,” he tells you, hoping to ease the pit of worry in your stomach. “I’m a top-ranked knight who prefers the battlefield over anything else. I’ve broken bones, gotten stabbed, and nearly died. This? It’s nothing. Really. Please, don’t worry.”

“We still have to get you back to the Kingdom and patch you up,” you insist firmly. “Even if you say you’re alright.”

“Whatever you say, Miss Y/N.” J goes with you obligingly, lets you walk him back to the kingdom gates. 

You urge him into the local medical practitioner, sit him down on the bench and watch as the doctor bandages his wound, reminds him not to engage in any strenuous activity while it’s healing. He sits patiently, glaring at you slightly and rolling his eyes any time the doctor speaks, which is fairly frequently. It’s clear only one of you wants to be here right now, and it’s the one of you without a scratch on your body. 

When the doctor leaves to tend to another patient, you get up from where you’re seated and sit down next to him on the bench, resting your head on his shoulder. 

Working for the Kingdom makes you stronger. Sitting in the cafe makes you think. But being with him, standing by his side, it makes you wonder. It makes your heart race and your mind clear. It makes you feel safe. 

“I think you saved my life,” you whisper softly, clutching onto him like a lifeline, like if you let go, one of you will drown. 

But that’s not the case. Neither of you will let go. Not without the other. Never without the other. 

“Really?” He asks. He already knows the answer. 

“No, I know you did,” you tell him. Things are different now, but maybe they’ve always been like this. You just never noticed. “Because in a heartbeat, I would do the same for you.”

♚ HERE ♚

“I have not seen Seokjin all day,” Jimin comments loudly one day, making everyone immediately turn to Seokjins’ desk, which looks practically untouched. His computer is asleep, his chair is pushed in, and his desktop is empty. The only thing that suggests that the man is even here in the first place is the messenger bag resting against the desk drawers, though it doesn’t look like it’s even been opened today. 

“Probably too busy avoiding you,” Yoongi deadpans, earning a “zing!” from Hoseok that makes you feel even more like you’re standing in the middle of a high school movie made by people who don’t know what high school is like. 

“Is he even in today?” 

“He is,” you pipe up. “His bag is here.”

“Of course you would know!” Taehyung teases, and he earns a highlighter to the face for his trouble. 

“He’s probably just trying to get his work done in a place that doesn’t consist of screaming and constant insults being hurled across the room,” Jimin says with a sigh, turning back to his work. It’s a fair statement, especially when the environment in your office is most often distracting, loud, and not at all an ideal work environment. It’s an absolute wonder that any of you manage to get your work done while you’re here. 

“Y/N, wanna go hunt him down?” Taehyung suggests, sending a wink your way as your eyes widen. 

“No, absolutely not, no way. I will not be tricked by you again,” you say, very reminiscent of the last time you went to go look for Seokjin and ended up with a coffee-stained shirt and a group of coworkers who thinks the two of you hooked up that one time. 

“If you say so…” Taehyung says, voice trailing off as he turns back to his work. 

But for once in your life, Seokjin’s absence is more noticeable than ever. He’s become a fixture in your everyday office life, always stopping by your desk with a second cup of low-grade office coffee for you (with a lid, of course), sending you emails complaining about Jimin and Hoseok when they’re being loud, asking you for help on every one of his difficult font decisions for logo designs, drafting emails to clients with you. It’s a sort of closeness that you never really had before—sure, you worked together and often got paired up for projects, but it’s different now. Like you jumped ship on being just colleagues but instead of drowning, you began to float.

Five more minutes pass and you pretty much resign yourself to getting back to your work, knowing that Seokjin’s probably just grabbed his laptop and found a place where he can work in peace and quiet without Hoseok’s shrill voice interrupting his thoughts. You’ll have to ask him what place he’s discovered. 

When there are four minutes left in the workweek and you are finally beginning to close out of the fifteen thousand tabs open on your Google Chrome window, the door busts open. 

It doesn’t actually bust open, so much as Seokjin comes flying through it and it slowly goes to rest on the padded door frame like it’s been designed to. His tie is loose around his neck like he’s been tugging on it all afternoon, his laptop is clenched carefully between his arm and his torso, and he’s got a flurry of papers freeballing it in a stack in his hands. 

“Oh my God, what tornado did you come from?” Jimin asks as Seokjin rushes over to his desk, cramming everything into his tiny messenger bag that definitely isn’t meant to fit a laptop and a stack of papers that thick. 

“Sehun just dumped an entire project on me that’s due on Sunday at noon with no warning, and now I have to pull together fragments of a crumbling magazine label before their final review on Sunday afternoon,” he says, terribly out of breath. He’s scrambling to gather his belongings, crashing into anything within a two-foot radius of him. 

“Dude, what the heck? I’m gonna tell Namjoon to kick Sehun’s ass,” Hoseok says with a frown, nose scrunched up. “Do you need help?”

“No, no, I’m alright, I can do it,” Seokjin insists, rubbing a hand through his hair as he leaves before the clock has even struck five. 

“Are you sure? You look like you want to jump out of the window,” Hoseok asks again, just for clarification. He’s not wrong. You don’t think you’ve ever seen Seokjin become so stressed in such a short period of time before. “At least let one of us help you get settled back into your apartment.”

To your right, Taehyung whispers into Jungkook’s ear, who then does this sort of weird hand movement to Hoseok, who nods understandingly. It looks suspiciously like they just plotted someone’s murder. 

“I can’t,” Jungkook says with an obnoxiously fake yawn, suddenly speaking much slower than usual, “I’m deadbeat tired.”

“Me neither,” Taehyung says, coughing in the way people do when they just want to get out of something. “I think I’m coming down with something.”

You whip your head around as everyone besides Yoongi comes up with an absolutely bullshit excuse not to accompany Seokjin to his apartment—Jimin says he has a date right after work and Hoseok says he needs to feed his puppy before he gets too hungry, leaving only you and a Yoongi that hasn’t been listening to the conversation whatsoever to vie for the spot. 

“Yoongi?” You ask, somewhat desperate not to be the one to accompany Seokjin to his apartment. You turn to your head to glare at Taehyung, who shamelessly coughs again when he meets your eyes, smiling guiltily. 

“Huh?” He asks, turning around. 

“Fine, you know what? I can come with,” you say with a sigh, already grabbing your belongings as Taehyung and Jungkook high-five next to you. 

“Oh, really? You’re a lifesaver, Y/N, you know that?” Seokjin says, and even when he’s stressed it’s like the weight has been lifted off of his shoulders once you volunteer, and you suppose that there are worse things that can happen than accompanying Seokjin to his apartment for ten minutes. 

Seokjin gives you the address of his place so that you can drive to it yourself, the both of you pulling into the parking garage underneath his apartment complex at the same time, waving to each other from adjacent parking spaces. 

“I really, really appreciate this, Y/N,” Seokjin says with a smile as he brings you into his apartment complex, nodding a friendly hello to the security officer in the lobby. “I know that it’s a Friday night and everything as well. You’d probably want to be doing something else.”

“Ah, yes, you know me, I frequent all of the clubs and bars in this city,” you say sarcastically as you walk into the elevator. Seokjin hits the button for the seventh floor and laughs. “Seriously, it’s not a big deal. It was a dick move of Sehun to drop this on you when it’s due in, like, thirty-six hours.”

“Tell me about it,” Seokjin says, exasperated as he leans back against the steel walls of the elevator. “I thought I would just get to go home this Friday night, pull up Netflix, and have a one-man movie night, but now I have to spend the next thirty-six hours doing this.”

“Well, you know all of us are just looking out for you, wanted to make sure you didn’t injure yourself from stress before you got back to your apartment,” you say as the elevator door dings. Seokjin leads you down the hallway to his door, sticking his key in and jiggling it until the door pops open. 

Admittedly, you have never been in Seokjin’s apartment, but you it was like you had already painted a picture of it in your head from his personality traits alone. You thought it would be fairly minimalistic, clean and neat, not too many flashy colors or kitschy items but things like photographs and magnets to make it feel like an office and more like a home. Pictured it as a sort of very simple, modern home, like the ones that celebrities live in because they can afford to keep their belongings clean all the time, because Seokjin looks exactly like a celebrity, gorgeous and put-together. 

Instead, Seokjin’s apartment is almost a hodgepodge of everything he could think to find to decorate, a stack of photobooks on his coffee table, slouchy leather couches wrinkled from wear, various kitchen supplies splayed all over his countertops. It’s the kind of place you can imagine him being in, existing in. You can see him standing behind his kitchen island with all of the ingredients and supplies for this wonderful dish he’s making littered across the counters. You can see him curled up on the couch, leaning against the corner of it to find that perfect spot, watching television. 

There’s a difference between owning a place, and living in it. Living in it makes it feels like a home, like it’s real, and not just for show. 

“Wow, your place is—”

“It’s really messy right now, I’m so sorry, I wasn’t expecting guests,” Seokjin says, letting his messenger bag plop down on the ground as he scrambles to make his living space nicer for you. 

“No, I was going to say it’s lovely,” you tell him. “It feels exactly like you.”

“Does it?” Seokjin asks genuinely, a soft smile lacing his features. “Well then, thank you.”

You wait around in his apartment awkwardly, not really sure if stepping past the front of his couch is socially acceptable since you’re just “visiting” and he hasn’t officially invited you inside yet. The main objective of accompanying him to his apartment has already been accomplished: you made sure he got home safely and that he can do his work in peace. Finished. But even still, you’re hanging around, wondering when he’s going to kick you out for being a weird, unknown fixture in his home. 

“Um, would you like to stay for dinner? I made soup last night and I have way too much for me to eat on my own,” he offers, opening up his fridge and taking out an enormous pot. It clinks as it hits his countertop, the metal sound echoing throughout his apartment. 

“No, I wouldn’t want to intrude,” you say, taking this as your cue to remove yourself from the situation before you do anything else to make an absolute fool of yourself. 

“I insist, please,” Seokjin says, stopping you in your tracks. “I may have a whole project to finish by Sunday, but we should at least spend this Friday night together, right?”

You look down at your shoes before looking up at him, meeting his eyes from where he stands behind his counter island. 

“Then I will,” you say, removing your flats and padding over to where he stands, coming to a stop on the other side of the counter island. “But only if you let me help you with the project, too. It was asshole-y of Sehun to dump it all on you. At least let me handle some of the graphic aspects.”

“Y/N,” Seokjin says, reaching his hand out over the counter, “you have a deal.”

This deal mainly consists of you eating some of Seokjin’s homemade soup on his couches, your laptops on his coffee table and that ridiculously thick stack of papers spread out amongst you. Seokjin already has a fair bit of information about the project at hand, but he still has absolutely zero progress since he received the assignment four minutes before the end of the workweek. 

“So, basically, what we have to do is re-organize the magazine’s overall design and aesthetic before their final review on Sunday, because if they don’t appeal to the publisher, they’re getting tanked,” Seokjin says, paging through the papers in search of a sketch. 

“So we’re their last hope,” you summarize. 

Seokjin nods. “We’re their last hope.”

“Great,” you say, not at all enthused. “No pressure at all.”

“I know. I’m so relaxed right now,” Seokjin says, clearly not relaxed. 

“You know what’s making me relaxed? This soup,” you say, finishing the last of what’s in your bowl. “It’s delicious. I didn’t know you cooked.”

“It’s just a hobby of mine,” Seokjin says with a shrug. “I picked it up when I moved to college and didn’t know how to make anything except toast.”

“You’re a very fast learner, then,” you say. “I’d pay you to make all of my meals, honestly.”

“Would you like more? I have a ton, so we can eat it all if you’d like,” he asks, already standing up and reaching his hand out for your bowl. 

You hand it over, shaking your head as he makes his way back to his little kitchen, ladling more soup into both of your bowls. “You’re too nice, Seokjin. Seriously. How am I supposed to pay back this kindness?”

Seokjin lets out a warm chuckle as he warms up your next serving in the microwave. “Believe me, Y/N, volunteering to take on this project with me with a due date in less than thirty-six hours is more than enough. You really don’t have to do this, you know.”

“No,” you tell him. “I want to. You deserve someone who’s willing to help you with big things like this. You shouldn’t have to deal with it all on your own.”

Seokjin grins as he returns, handing you your bowl of soup as you get back to work. “I don’t deserve you, Y/N.”

What was supposed to be a couple of hours spent grinding out a project over a shared pot of soup turns into a night’s worth of work, scribbles on paper and the redoing of the same logo fifteen different times on your computer’s much slower, less-updated version of Photoshop. The application crashes on three different occasions, causing you to nearly slam it into the wall, but you just try to look on the bright side. Find the silver lining. Of which there are none. 

Seokjin doesn’t seem to be faring any better than you are. You’ve never seen the man under such pressure before, not in the office and certainly not while you’re out of the office. He’s tugged on a crewneck sweater over his dress shirt and paces around his apartment in bright pink slippers, brainstorming aloud as you bounce ideas off of each other in a panic. 

“What if we rebranded them?” Seokjin suggests wildly. When you turn to look at the digital clock underneath his television, it says 11:17PM. You’re surprised he hasn’t collapsed underneath the pile of work he’s got on his plate. 

“What do you mean? Do we even have the authorization to rebrand them?” You ask, pulling up a new tab on magazine marketing techniques. 

“The project description says requests for anything that will keep them afloat,” Seokjin says. He immediately opens an old photobook, buried underneath your laptops, sketches, and papers, flipping through before he sits down right next to you on his slouchy leather couch. “What if we gave them more of a minimalist kind of style? They’re trying to jump off of this super quirky, very basic Urban Outfitters kind of aesthetic, but I think it makes the magazine too young, you know?” Seokjin suggests. “We could do something more grown-up, attract their market audience.”

“Are we allowed to do that?” You ask, thoroughly interested. Maybe Seokjin’s onto something. 

“Who says we can’t?” Seokjin responds, and it’s good enough for you to hop on board. 

Sitting in his apartment like this, brainstorming different ideas and collaborating on logo designs, magazine layout, and website design together, you are more productive than you’ve been in a very, very long time. Even as the night stretches on into the early hours of the morning, as you watch the clock turn from 1:00AM to 2:00AM to 3:00AM, the two of you are wide awake, the only things illuminating his apartment being a floor lamp by his television and the blue light of your laptop screens. 

“It’s…” Seokjin yawns when it’s nearly four in the morning, pen slipping from his fingers, “so late.”

“I know,” you say back, feeling your eyelids beginning to sink. “I’m surprised we’ve even stayed up this long.”

“Haven’t been up this late since college,” Seokjin says, smiling hazily at past memories. “Always had code to finish for my class the next morning.”

“At least we get to sleep in now,” you joke. Even if you still have to finish putting together a brand new image for this magazine that’s about to go under, tomorrow is still a Saturday. 

“Thank God,” Seokjin says, resting his head on the back of the couch cushion, letting his eyes flutter shut. “I feel like we did a lot tonight.”

“We were very productive,” you agree.

He yawns. “We work well together, don’t you think?”

“Hmm?” You ask, leaning over to move your computer from your lap to the coffee table, exchanging it for a sketchpad to keep brainstorming. 

“I think,” Seokjin begins, and it must be just the sleepy haze his brain has entered rather than anything else that could spur him to express this, that makes him say, “that you and I make a perfect pair.”

You sit up straight at this, looking over at Seokjin as the pencil in between your fingers falls onto the sketchpad before rolling onto the floor. It looks like he’s fallen asleep, exhaustion finally overcoming him as all of the work he’s done catches up to him. In the dead of night, the only sound in the room is his soft breathing, chest rising and falling slowly as his mind begins to wander. You watch him, eyelids heavy, and think that he couldn’t have possibly thought that. No way would he say such a thing to you if he was perfectly cognizant, wide awake. After all, you’re the one with a crush on him, not the other way around. 

You lean back, pondering why a man like Seokjin would ever invite you into his home, offer you soup, and shower you with subtle compliments that couldn’t just be friends being friends, and before you know it, your eyes fall shut. 

It is nearly one in the afternoon by the time you wake up, the sunlight streaming in from the side of his apartment. It forces you to finally open your eyes, groaning as your blurry vision begins to clear. 

That is when you register these four things in this order:

This is Seokjin’s apartment.

This is Seokjin’s apartment, in which you worked on a project with him last night.

This is Seokjin’s apartment, and you fell asleep on his couch. 

This is Seokjin’s apartment, and he thinks that you’d make the perfect pair. 

You hear a clink from across the room, and turn to find Seokjin, still wearing the same thing he was wearing last night, standing in his kitchen, pouring two glasses of orange juice. 

“Morning,” Seokjin says. He pauses, then corrects himself. “Afternoon, actually.” He walks over to you, handing you a glass of orange juice as you rub your eyes, waking yourself up.

“How long have you been up?” You ask him, too tired to thank him out loud for the glass of orange juice. 

“About an hour,” he says, checking the time. “I didn’t want to wake you up. You looked so peaceful.”

“I feel awful, I didn’t mean to intrude on your apartment for, like, an entire night,” you say, rubbing your forehead as you try to smooth out your hair, make yourself look less like you fell asleep at four in the morning in your gorgeous crush’s apartment. 

“No, it’s alright, really,” Seokjin insists. “It was nice having company, for once. And I think we got a lot done.”

“I still feel bad, I didn’t mean to stay so long,” you say, looking around for your belongings as you try to gather your bearings. 

“It’s fine,” Seokjin reassures you, sitting down on the couch next to you as he begins to clean up the absolute mess of the coffee table. “But your phone has been ringing nonstop, so someone must have missed you.”

You fumble around for your phone before finding it having slid in between the couch cushions, pulling it up to see three missed calls from Taehyung and two missed calls from Jungkook, as well as a slew of texts from the both of them. 

“Oh, it’s just Taehyung and Jungkook,” you say with a shrug, deciding that now is not the time to bring them into the conversation. A quick scan of the texts gives you a rough summary of what you would have heard if you had answered their calls instead. 

Taehyung (9:35AM): Y/N Taehyung (9:35AM): HELLO Taehyung (9:35AM): ARE YOU ALIVE??? Taehyung (9:36AM): YOU NEVER SLEEP THIS LATE ARE YOU OKAY??? Taehyung (10:03AM): I WENT BY YOUR APARTMENT AND YOU DIDN’T ANSWER IS EVERYTHING ALRIGHT Taehyung (10:04AM): TEXT ME 1 IF EVERYTHING IS OKAY AND 2 IF EVERYTHING IS NOT OKAY Taehyung (10:05AM): LAST TIME I SAW YOU YOU WERE GOING HOME WITH SEOKJIN DID HE MURDER YOU??????? Taehyung (10:18AM): oh Taehyung (10:18AM): oh wait Taehyung (10:19AM): OHHHHHHHHH Taehyung (10:20AM): ;)

Jungkook (12:18PM): Kingdom just started a new event! Get online with me and let’s crush this thing pleaseeeee

“Just want me to play Kingdom with them,” you say, ignoring Taehyung’s text messages and pretending like they don’t exist.

“You really like that game, don’t you?” Seokjin asks. 

“Oh, they like it more than I do, really, I just try and keep the obsession to a minimum,” you say casually. 

“But they always talk about how good you are,” Seokjin adds. “You’re ranked second, aren’t you? That’s a big accomplishment.”

“Yeah, but it’s not that exciting. I mean, it’s just a game,” you shrug it off. 

“But you like it, which means that’s important,” Seokjin says. “You shouldn’t be ashamed of the things you like. They matter to you.”

“You think so?” You ask, smiling at him. 

“I know so. Tell me about Kingdom,” he urges, nudging your side. “Please? I’d love to know.”

And for once, you don’t just shrug it off and brand it as a game you play occasionally. You let yourself love that game, for all it’s done for you and your friends (even if you aren’t the best anymore) and your happiness, and you tell Seokjin about it. About how you started playing it when you were bored one day during work and saw a forum on it. How you got the rest of the office hooked on it as well, even if they were much more obnoxious about it than you are. How you go home after a long day of work and log on, letting yourself relax as you weave your way through the rankings and quests, finding solace in the familiarity of it all. You tell him why you love it, and why you probably won’t stop playing it for a long time, no matter what becomes of your ranking. 

“It was nice being ranked first, but I actually don’t mind whoever it is that’s taken over,” you tell Seokjin honestly. “Jungkook wants to hunt them down, but I think that, whoever they are, they deserve that spot. You know, I used to hate them because the top-ranked player gets all of the best rewards, but our characters have recently started to spend so much time together that I feel like they’d probably have fallen in love by now.” You chuckle to yourself. If life were a movie, everything would always work out perfectly.

“You do?” Seokjin asks, eyes wide. 

“Yeah, of course,” you say. “They spend so much time together. Who wouldn’t, right?”

“I suppose you’re right,” Seokjin says, smiling. “I also have something to tell you.”

You shake your head. “Don’t tell me you’re obsessed with anime, please. That is where I draw the line.”

“Don’t shame us,” Seokjin says, a hand on his heart like he’s been personally offended. Your eyes widen. “I’m kidding,” he says, laughing as you exhale, relieved. “I actually play Kingdom, too. I just wanted to ask you about it.”

“Seriously? All this time and you just pretended like you had no idea what it was?” you say in disbelief. He’s been hiding this from you for how long? God, the rest of your office is going to have a field day with this information. 

“I just wanted you to tell me about it,” Seokjin admits sheepishly. 

You shake your head. “You could have talked to me about other stuff, you know.”

“I know, but you never talked about Kingdom and I could always see how much you loved it. It was nice, listening to you tell me about it,” he says. 

“I’ve been betrayed,” you say dramatically, opening up your laptop to pull up the game. “What’s your ID? We can add each other.”

This is where Seokjin goes silent. “Actually, I think you might already know who I am. I’m above you in the rankings.”

Your mouth drops open. 

“You’re JK0901? Are you kidding me?” You ask, absolutely floored. All this time and you had no idea that Kim Seokjin was a Kingdom expert. “What does JK stand for? I was convinced it was Jungkook and he was just lying to my face, but in reality, it was you who was lying to me!”

Seokjin lets out a chuckle. “Jin Kim. I’m surprised you guys didn’t figure it out earlier.”

“I can’t believe this,” you say, practically speechless. “How long have you been playing?” 

“Not that long,” Seokjin shrugs. “I picked it up because I wanted to impress a girl I liked.”

“Really? All this effort for a girl you like?” You ask, still in disbelief. You suck up the way your heart is sinking at the thought of him liking another person, but then you remember that it wasn’t like you had ever made a move on him anyway. Smiling, you ask, “Will you at least humor me and tell me who it is?”

Then, Seokjin looks you dead in the eye, and says, “You.”

He doesn’t give you time to respond. Instead, he wraps a hand around your torso and pulls you into him, pressing his lips firmly on yours as you gasp into his mouth, body tensing up before you melt into his touch. 

It’s a quick kiss, nothing too crazy, but it overwhelms you nonetheless, leaves you gasping for air like you’ve been underwater this whole time and have finally surfaced. When you part, you look up into his eyes only to find that they’ve turned into crescents. He’s grinning down at you like he’s finally gotten it right. 

“You did all of that for me?” You ask. “How did you even know?”

Seokjin looks particularly guilty. “You’re not necessarily… that discreet, Y/N.”

You close your eyes, the heat already flaring in your cheeks. “Oh God, you knew?”

“It was fairly easy to figure out,” Seokjin admits. “But the good news is: I felt the same way. So, no harm done.”

“I’m so embarrassed,” you say, curling into his chest so you don’t have to look him in the eye. 

“You’re incredible, Y/N, you know that?” He asks, pulling you away from him just so he can get a better look at you. He’s standing in front of you, looking at you like this is what he’s been waiting for. Like all this time, he’s been waiting for you. “I’d do it all over again if it meant I could end up with you.”

“You would?” You ask, pulling him in for another kiss. There’s plenty more where those came from, but you’re already feeling greedy. Why wouldn’t you? If life was a movie, then wouldn’t this be the happy ending? 

“In a heartbeat.”

↳ links are broken, but don’t forget to message me with any thoughts or feedback!

↳ check out the post-script drabble here!

[snowdice]

Gaps in His Files (Part 8) [Relabeled; Refiled Series]

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Logan/Patton

Characters:

Main: Logan, Patton

Appear: Remy, Virgil (but only in the epilogue)

Summary:

Logan Berry has learned many things the last 10 years: a lot of math and physics, a bit of humility, and how to be a hero being just a few. Through his education, his experience teaching, and his exploits as the superhero Bluebird, he’s changed in a lot of small and large ways. He has recorded these changes in well-organized documents and files. He’s even had to create two new file designations: a red one for files about his moonlighting at Bluebird, and a light blue one dedicated to his boyfriend, Patton.

When Bluebird is targeted by a memory device and all of those 10 years of progress suddenly disappear, Patton Sanders and Logan’s extensive files are left as his only resource to get those memories back. But what is Patton supposed to do when there are clear gaps in his files? And what does he do when he is one of them?

This is set 25 years before Sometimes Labels Fail though it’s story is completely independent of it and it is not necessary to read that one first.

Notes: Superhero AU, memory loss, past child abuse, past child neglect, unhealthy ideas about ones place in relationships, emotional suppression, self-deprecating thoughts, medical procedures mentioned, very brief unhealthy views of sex

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

Erm. Logan says a few not so nice things about people who struggle academically which are very wrong. I think from context it is clear that the author doesn’t agree with it. As a teacher I do not endorse his statement and in the missing 10 years he’s learned the lesson for himself... he’s just a very dumb smart high school kid. That being said, I thought I might warn you all especially with the fact that people might be in the middle of finals and a little emotionally vulnerable to that one.

Patton spent most of the morning getting Logan familiar with his red files while also asking him subtle questions about his real opinions on things. The mention of the crying thing did sting a bit even though Patton already knew it made Logan uncomfortable. Patton knew that from the beginning, but he’d still let Logan force himself to try to help when Patton was upset.

God, Patton was a bad person.

After he’d helped Logan get a good feel of the newer files, they started brainstorming about how best to work on recovering his memories over lunch.

Patton had thought they were on the same page, that being they were going to read through the pages in his files hoping he’d remember something in them. However, now he was doing that finger tapping thing on the table while he chewed slowly on his sandwich.

“What?” Patton finally asked.

Logan had clearly been waiting to share because there was no pause before his response. “Have you heard of Blight?” Logan asked, casually, as though that were not a name that made most of the population shudder when they heard it.

“This is nothing like that,” Patton said firmly before he continued with that line of thought.

“Why couldn’t it be?” he asked with a curious head tilt.

“Because… because it’s not,” Patton said.

“Do you have any evidence that it isn’t? Just because it was a device instead of a superpower does not mean it is not the same methodology.”

“It’s just not,” Patton said, “It can’t be.”

“Why?” Logan asked again.

“Because none of them recovered,” Patton tried not to snap.

Logan hummed. “Ah. That seems like an emotionally charged conclusion.”

“Can we please just not talk about it?” Patton implored, turning back to his lunch even though he wasn’t hungry anymore. There were a few moments of silence.

“Did you know,” Logan started, and Patton sighed, “that Blight was on record as having telekinesis before she revealed herself as a Mind Warper? People say she must have implanted false memories in her victims, but if she really was then it would be evidence of-”

“The Monofacultas Theory,” Patton finished for him.

Logan gave him a startled look. “You know it?”

“I’ve known you for over three years Logan and while I agree that the theory is interesting and feasible, there are no known cases of someone having a set of powers that span more than one of the Tri-divisions.”

“If Blight had telekinesis there is. She would have had a physical power as well as a mental one. Witnesses said…”

“She tore the minds of an entire city apart at the seams and restructured them to her desire. Excuse me if I don’t trust the validity of those mind’s statements especially when they have been disproved by video evidence.”

“Just because she didn’t use telekinesis for that one situation caught on video doesn’t mean she couldn’t.”

“Fine,” Patton said. “Say you’re right. Why does it matter?”

“Well I have telekinesis.”

“So, you want to… move your memories back into place?”

“Basically, yes.”

“With your telekinesis?”

“Well, brains are ultimately physical objects.”

“And you are going to not simply give yourself a stroke because…?” Logan shrugged. “Absolutely not Logan.”

“It would be interesting,” Logan said, eyes alight. “I could prove that powers are not truly divided into physical, metal, or energy powers but are originally one singular power that develops due to circumstance during early childhood.”

“If your brain doesn’t literally explode because you don’t know what you’re doing.”

“All science has risk.”

“No, Logan.”

He gave him the look that Patton was not allowed to call a pout.

“Can we at least try some less extreme methods of memory recovery before the theoretical methods with no hard evidence? Like continuing to read your files to try to jog your memory naturally as we had discussed.”

“Fine,” he agreed, looking downtrodden. Patton really hoped he got his memory back before he got too restless and tried something like that.

“If you’re finished eating, we should get back to reading,” Patton said. Patton was certainly finished with his lunch.

The afternoon went well without any major disasters or talk about dangerous methods to get memories back. Logan had not remembered anything, but he’d been calm and patiently started sorting through his files in chronological order. Then, when Patton left him alone for a moment to go to the bathroom, he somehow managed to find his daily planner from where Patton had hidden under a blanket in the front hall closet.

“It’s fine,” Patton insisted from the couch, watching him pace back and forth and wringing his hands. “I called your advisor and told him you wouldn’t be able to meet with him because you were sick.”

Logan frowned at him. “You shouldn’t’ have done that. I could have gone. I don’t want to appear irresponsible by skipping meetings.”

“He wanted to talk about your research. You would have had no idea what he was talking about,” Patton reasoned.

“I would have managed.”

“Logan,” Patton said patiently. “Your research area is partial differential equations. Do you even know what those are?”

Patton could tell by the look on his face that he had no idea. Yet he still stuck his nose up in the air. “I know what a differential is, and I know what an equation is. I am sure I can figure out how to do parts of them.”

“You haven’t even taken multivariate calculus.”

“It can’t be that hard.”

“It is,” Patton groaned, “It is hard.”

“Perhaps for you,” he said hotly.

“No,” Patton ground out. “For you. The 28-year-old you spends hours a week trying to understand these things and he has a bachelor’s degree and almost 6 years of graduate education under his belt. You are in high school.” Logan just gave him a withering glare and turned his attention back to the planner.

“I’m supposed to teach two courses tomorrow,” he said.

“Oh, absolutely not,” Patton said.

“I have a responsibility rather or not I have my memories.”

“Logan, listen to me. You have not graduated high school. You cannot teach a calculus class.”

Logan bristled. “I took calculus last year and got an A.”

Patton had to take a steadying breath. “That is not the same as teaching it.”

“It can’t be that hard. I will simply explain the information to them.”

“And when one of them asks you how to add two fractions?”

Logan’s eyebrows crinkled. “That is a basic skill. I am sure anyone in a college calculus course can do that easily.”

“You have clearly never taught a day in your life.”

Logan bristled. “Any adult who cannot add fractions should immediately be kicked out of university and returned to kindergarten where they belong.”

Patton looked at him for a moment hoping perhaps he would figure out on his own why what he just said was completely out of line. He just kept his jaw stubbornly firm. Patton took a breath. “And that is why you cannot go and teach these students.”

Logan scoffed. “I am not sure why my future self would put up with such things.”

“Because you almost failed your real analysis course,” Patton answered in a heartbeat. “Your first semester of teaching, you were also taking a first-year graduate real analysis course and you couldn’t understand a word of measure theory. It was the first time in your life that you had to work for a C. One day you looked at your students and came to the realization that the look on their faces when you tried to explain the product rule to them was likely the same expression your professor saw on yours when he tried to explain the existence of non-measurable sets. We all have our strengths and weaknesses and if we let someone else draw the line for stupid, there is every chance we’d end up on the wrong side of it. So,” Patton said crossing his arms, “I am not going to let you go ruin your own reputation with your students as a teacher who is not an asshole because you’ve not had to toe your own line yet.”

Logan met his eyes, clearly wanting to argue, but Patton just kept his face strict and his arms crossed. Logan’s face cleared suspiciously quickly, and he backed down. “Fine,” he agreed. “I will stay here.”

“Good,” Patton replied eyeing him. “Now put down the planner and let’s go back to work.”

Want to read more? Use the links below!

AO3 Part 9

My Masterpost 

[marinerofthestars]

the zodai tag

bit of a late arrival to this fandom, but better late than never, i suppose!

1. How did you hear about the books? about a year ago, i was doing research on the zodiac for an urban fantasy project i’m working on, tales from omphalos, when i found the house ophiuchus info page on the zodiac website. unfortunately life got in the way and i forgot the series for a while, but a little while ago i remembered zodiac’s worldbuilding and got sucked right back in!

2. What is your favorite moment from the series so far? it’s hard to choose just one moment, but i’d have to say skarlet and rho’s first meeting in black moon for how atypical it is. we know skarlet is the hypotenuse in rho and hysan’s love triangle, but she doesn’t act like the stereotypical petty Other Woman at all. she’s charismatic, she’s genuinely fun to be around, and she has sympathetic motives and ambitions. above all, she’s actually super nice towards rho, and doesn’t let her feelings get in the way of their political collaboration. (and then thirteen rising assassinated her character. yes i am still bitter about it why do you ask)

3. Which House are you from? house leo!

4. What do you like about your House? artistry pride is something i’d really love to be a part of as an aspiring author, i have blaze and trax (both criminally underrated characters imo) as my housemates, and our zodai wield FLAMING SWORDS in battle. what’s not to love?

5. If you had to change Houses, which House would you pick? since leo really vibes with my passion for art, this is definitely a tricky question! probably either libra (police brutality is a thing of the past with bind, and their government seems like they have their act together), scorpio (much waterworld. much ambition. much cool tech. wow), or sagittarius (diversity, democracies where the voices of the young and non-complacent can be heard, and really vibrant cities are all things i appreciate)

6. Which system would you most like to visit? capricorn, no question. the zodiax is THE single most location in the entire zodiac bar none to me - an ancient complex the size of a planet, its oldest curators having access to transportation systems most inhabitants don’t even know about? an archive of humanity’s collective knowledge, so massive it has hotels and restaurants within it because leaving to sleep or eat is just so impractical? LET ME TOUR IT. LET ME UNCOVER ITS MYSTERIES I KNOW THEY EXIST (i think history is rad okay)

7. If you got to choose, which Zodiac technology would you like to have? probably...the tattoo? i don’t have anywhere enough knowledge about neuroscience/engineering to design my own, but assuming that i did, i’d love to design a tattoo that can interface with my brain and with digital art software, so that i can turn whatever ideas i have in my head into artwork!

8. Which character would you want as a best friend? skarlet. she’s six feet tall, buff as all hell, super attractive, prefers diplomacy to violence but still perfectly capable of kicking ass, and an outspoken risers’ rights activist. what’s not to love? (though knowing the type of people i usually hang out with, i’d probably end up with like. twain or gyzer as my best friend. one can dream though)

9. Which sign would you like to date? aries, because as previously stated skarlet is awesome. (a sentiment i will continue to reiterate) failing that, either libra for their sense of justice, scorpio for their ambition and passion, or aquarius for their innovative mindset.

10. Who do you hope Rho “ends up with?” (If anyone at all!) firstly, thank you for acknowledging that rho might not be interested in romance after everything she’s been through. (aromantic rho? arho?) secondly: skarlet.

this might be a little controversial, but i feel like in some regards, rho has far more chemistry with skarlet than she has with hysan. (ms. russell. i am sorry but. i have. Issues. with ‘centaur smile’ and the context surrounding it doesn’t make it any better) all of their interactions are marked by a noted admiration on rho’s part, and it’s not just merely admiration of her frankly enviable body (there’s more than enough of that, but it feels respectful somehow, there’s no five-page purple prosey ramblings on how the sweat glints on skar’s brow as she lifts weights, unlike with some people - sorry, mathias), but admiration of skar’s personality.

her charisma. her ambitions. her drive to fight for people who’ve been beaten down for millennia, to give a voice to the voiceless. to use violence as a last resort, not a first strike.

even at their absolute worst in thirteen rising, even when they’re butting heads, they don’t let it get in the way of doing what needs to be done. hell, skarlet even points out that she wouldn’t be giving rho such a hard time if she didn’t respect the hell out of rho, if she didn’t think she was tough enough to take it. there’s a sort of unspoken bond between them, a slow orbit that they’re both caught in. at the end of the series, they part way on relatively good terms, and with the hope that maybe, just maybe, that orbit might become something more than just professional acquaintance.

also their oppositional dichotomy of cardinal fire/water signs is an awesome aesthetic that i really wish was brought up more than it was in canon :( 

11. If you could record a Snow Globe, what would you put in it? only A snow globe? you’re not exactly giving me a lot of slack here in all seriousness, if i had to choose one moment to record in a snow globe, probably the moment i first came up with the idea for the urban fantasy project i mentioned above, tales from omphalos. i’ve never been devoted as much time to or invested as much energy in a project as i have with tfo, and i’d like to keep an easily accessible record of my original vision on hand. and hey, if by some chance i manage to follow in romina’s footsteps, get tales from omphalos professionally published, have it become a big success with a respectable fandom, i’d like to look back every once in a while, and remember how it all began.

12. If you had the chance to tell Rho anything, what advice/encouragement would you give her? - lies, especially lies of omission, are necessary a lot of the time to get ahead in politics and life in general use that being ahead to help out the people and groups you care about - don't trust the immortal child-aristocrats or expect them to behave in a way that won't inevitably screw you over - if you must play nice with them, figure out how to decrease gemini’s horrific income inequality, and see what you can do about exporting cell rejuvenation therapy to the wider zodiac - ferez is right, risers are the future and you need to acknowledge that going forward - skarlet is excellent at garnering support and bridging generational gaps, and while fernanda purecell is a bougie running dog, she’s got her head screwed on the right way regarding politics and institutional riserphobia; together, the three of you should be able to make some headway towards making amends for past wrongs - i don’t care if family heads have suffrage, matriarchal aristocracy (aristocratic matriarchy?) is NOT a democracy or a form of government that looks out for the rights of men/NB people/agender people/multigender people/intersex people/you get the idea - romance is by no means an exclusively two-player game, and skarlet has said she would be open to an arrangement; however, if you MUST insist on ignoring that polyamory is a thing, go for the six-foot risers' rights activist - i’m sorry about all the bullshit with your mom. whatever the end result was, whatever her intentions, it does not excuse the way she treated you and your dad and stanton. it’s okay to feel like shit because of what she did to you, and not being able to wall it off doesn’t make you weak or anything dumb like that - you’re already far stronger than she ever was. i know how much it sucks - i was in the same situation as you once - but believe me when i say that things do get better. you’re not alone here, rho. - please you gotta fight the gender binary you live in the FUTURE you gotta do it you gotta-

BONUS QUESTION 13. How would you react if your friend became a Riser? let them know that I love and support them no matter what their house, that being the way that they are is totally valid, and that anyone who says otherwise will have to answer to my fist in their face. if they’re unbalanced, make sure they have access to any resources they need (possibly including memory recap vlogs, definitely including medication and therapy to help out with any health issues they may develop).

[greyfongschemmenti]

Hesitate 7|15

FryeArcana

Chapter 7

You Say

Summary:

You finally let Lin know your story. Who you are and what caused those scars on your body.

You spend the day with Asami and go racing in the new Racer cars her dad has made.

“I thought I had you there” you smile as you take the helmet off and look over at Asami as she climbs out of her car and fixes her hair.

“I’ve had time to get better, these cars are nothing like the satomobiles” she smiles as she puts the helmet on the car seat.

“yeah, it has way more power and speed” you smirk as you did the same and followed Asami back to the mansion and get some refreshments.

“so how was your little date with Mako, it was a couple of nights ago right?” you look over at her as Asami is sipping on some lychee juice.

“hmm? Oh it was really nice. He’s sweet. We had dinner then you saw that he came with me to the gala, then we took a carriage through the park” she smiles a slight blush appearing on her cheeks.

“that’s nice, as long as you like him and happy then I'm happy too” you smile back and eat some fruit from the fruit bowl.

“y/n!” you heard an older man calling after you and you turn around and see Hiroshi Sato

“hey, Mr. Sato! Long time no see” you smile and walk over to him and extend a hand to him.

“come on, you know better, I’ve told you to call me Hiroshi.” He gives me a stern look but quickly smile “no matter, when Asami told you me you’ve returned to Republic City, I knew it was a matter of time before I would see you here. You are coming back to Future Industries?” he looks up hopefully

“Y/N is working with the police now remember, dad?” Asami walks up to the both of you and puts a hand on her father’s shoulder

“ah, yes that’s right. So how is it working with Chief Beifong?” he looks at you with a intrigued expression.

“it’s exciting honestly, but I see what all the comments about her demeanor comes from. What can you expect from being Chief of Police. It comes with the title I guess” you smile but quickly change the subject not wanting to talk ill of Lin “Asami mentioned your new line of racer cars, we took a test run and it’s coming out nicely.”

“Ahh so you’ve had a chance to check them out, good. How did you think of the design? We implemented those colors you’ve mentioned, yellow and red.” He walks you girls out towards the gardens of the mansion.

“the overall is nice, it’ll surely catch the audience’s attention when the red and yellow cars are flashing by. Surely, it’ll help with gaining the attention in future investors and clients” you smirk

“well I take help any way I can and if it wasn’t for your keen eye on design, these satomobiles wouldn’t have taken off. What was your pitch at the meeting?”

“oh you’re overreaching there Hiroshi, all I mentioned was about curving the overall look of the car, it helped with speed. 100% durability 100% desirability 1000% A good time” you chuckle as you mention the pitch again.

“that’s the pitch, that’s what won over those investors.” He clapped his hands and had a laugh

“well it was a group effort. Future Industries is known for using the very best materials, no cutting corners. All we had to do was design a car that not only attracts people, but also elevates the people driving it. If it makes you feel good while you drive it, it’ll be out in the streets more times than just parked in some street or house. Even then, it’s free publicity when a car looks so good that it attracts more customers to make a purchase for a satomobile rather than a Cabbage Car.”

Hiroshi smiles and chuckles “always quite the salesperson, it’s that bright mind that I miss on the team, but I understand you had other plans.”

You nod understanding and lightly shrug “I learned a lot with you and Asami, but the spirits had other plans for me, and who am I to ignore it” you smile

After some time you’ve spent with Asami and Hiroshi you’ve made your goodbyes after lunch and left.

*

Walk thru the park and decide to take a seat under a tree overlooking the water, you take a moment to meditate closing your eyes and focus on the noise around you of people enjoying their time outside and kids’ laughter, you can’t help but smile.

‘fancy seeing you here” a voice you recognized all too well

You crack a smile as you slowly open your eyes and look up to your right and see Lin walking towards you. “Afternoon, Chief, I could day the same thing. Care to join me?”

Lin looks around and just when you think she was going to refuse she surprisingly leans down and sits beside you. “I see you’re enjoying your day off”

“yeah, I figured it’ll be good to get some fresh air” you exhale deeply then look out at the water “how’s the station?”

“busy as usual, nothing new, but the streets are calm, surprisingly” she groans as she leans back on the tree

“that’s good, take in the scenery, breath in some fresh air before having to get back to the station. Take advantage of it” you look back at her and your eyes sort of smile on their own as you can’t help but notice how the run radiates and highlights Lin’s eyes to a beautiful soft green.  

“can I ask you something?” Lin not noticing your glance but turns her head to look at you.

“anything chief”

“so what’s your story? You mentioned that you have this whole story in the making.” She creeps her arms up and crossing them in front of her.

“ahh, my story huh, well it’s pretty long, if you dare to stay to listen to it all.” You grin as you rub the back of your neck

“depends on how well the story is” she mutters

You breathe deeply mentally preparing yourself to tell your story “well, I have an earthbender of a father and my mother was a waterbender, their marriage produced three kids - all girls -- me being the eldest and the earthbender, the second a waterbender, then the surprise of the family the youngest, a firebender. She is quite the hot head that one, turns out we got some fire benders from my dad’s side. We stayed in Ba Sing Se” You close as you remember your family and chuckle at the thought when you think about your sisters.

“Did your scar come your fire bending sister?” Lin softly asked listening intently

“oh I see, you’re trying to figure out the story behind these scars.” You smirk “all you had to do was ask Chief, no need to beat around the bush. I’m an open book, just got to learn to ask the question.” You look over at her and scoff

Lin tenses up and frowns rolling her eyes “it’s not nice to pry, some folks don’t like talking about their life.” She muttered under her breath.

“so, if I tell you the story of my scar, will you tell me yours?” you taunt her seeing if your push might get you to find out how she got her scar as well.

Lin looks over at you then looks away “I don’t like to talk about it..” she trails off

“hey, I don’t like to be pressured into anything, so I won’t pressure you, but since I like you I don’t mind telling my story. Everyone has a story worth telling, but no one will hear it unless you voice it.” You mimic your voice like an old monk and laugh “that’s what this old merchant once told me”

“so how did you get your scar?” you hear Lin’s voice as soft as you never heard before you think some other lady was with you.

You inhale and exhale as you prepare to speak

“I was 12 and I was walking out of school, heading home. On my way I saw this small non-bender boy probably around the age of 10 getting teased and bullied by 5 older boys. I heard them tell this little boy all sorts of trash remarks. How weak he is to be a non-bender and that he has no purpose in life if he can’t bend.”

You look down sadden remembering the scene then ball your hands into fists

“I got so angry that I meddled in and defended the boy, told the group to leave him alone and that they were all just a bunch of dumb schoolboys. They were no better than the little boy. The group of boys all snickered and told me to leave, that this was no place for a girl. A pretty girl like myself should focus on how to be a lady instead of meddling into “man” talks. Whatever that means” you roll your eyes and scoff.

“I told them to shove their man talks into their pants and started to fight them giving the little boy time to run and escape. I was able to scare off two of the boys, but I was overpowered when the waterbender froze my hands together and gave an earthbender the chance to knock me to the ground, the firebender, the ringleader of their group told the other two guys to hold me down and he put his foot on my head. Told me that he hoped this would stop me from meddling into what doesn’t concern me and that it’s such a shame since I was a pretty girl, then he blasted me with his firebending all down the left side of my back and a slash across my left bicep. The other two boys got so scared from the sight I don’t think they knew the firebender would do such a thing. My screams of agony scared them all to run away from the scene. I soon passed out from the pain, next thing I know I wake up in a water basin in a dark candlelit room. My eyesight was glazed over, but I could see someone there with me, a healer, softly speaking to me that I was okay and that she was doing her very best to heal my burns. Her voice sounded so beautiful and easily trusting, I didn’t recognize her or see any details on her face except two things, one, she had the most beautiful eyes, a bright blue almost teal, as blue as the clearest ocean or sea in the world. The second that she had on this necklace with a crescent or something I couldn’t really tell. I tried to speak but my throat was so dry, and I felt so weak that I just knocked out again. The following morning I was in a bed with bandages wrapped around chest and arm. I never saw that healer again, I asked about her, but it turned it she was just traveling by on her way out when she ran into me and took me to that healing hut and didn’t leave until I was in the clear. Once I got home my parents were so angry once they found out what happened to me. I rebutted that I couldn’t just stand idly by and let a poor boy get tormented. My dad finally gave in and smiled; told me he was proud even though it was stupid to try to take on 5 guys at the same time.” You smile and laugh remembering his words, then look down overcome with sadness.

“sometime later my dad overcame with an illness, Cabbage Fever, I believe. My mom tried every remedy she knew from her water tribe roots, but nothing worked, and he soon passed away.” You take a moment to yourself as you look up at the water nearby in front of you and Lin. You don’t look at her as you try to control your emotions then continue on. “you know...there is this saying that when two people are destined to be together, their spirits are tethered together. Sort of like one can’t live without the other… I believe that is what happened with my parents. They couldn’t live without the other because as soon as my dad passed my mom no longer had the strength to live on. Or at least her spirit didn’t, and her body followed after and soon she passed quietly in her sleep. The only thing the healers could explain in simpler terms was that my mother passed from a broken heart…” you ball your fists more as to try not to try but you can feel tears forming at the corner of your eyes.

“I was 16, my sisters were 14 and 12. My parents prepared in any case were this to happen we had guardians in place. Turns out we have family all around the world. The waterbender went to live with an aunt in the southern water tribe and the firebender lived with an uncle and aunt in the fire nation. I was supposed to go to live with my uncle in Ba Sing Se, but I was adamant that I wanted to travel the world. I didn’t want to be stuck in someone else’s home. So I packed up my things, made sure my sisters were taken care of and promised to send whatever money I can to them and send them letters of my travel. I spent the next year or so traveling all over the world. Spent a couple months in Kyoshi Island where the Kyoshi warriors were kind enough to each me to fight, learned about girl power, and even were kind enough to teach me some chi blocking fighting style. Spend another month at Ember Island, visited the Si Wong Desert, where I spent some time sand-sailing with some Si Wong people. The Northern Air Temple was interesting since it was taken over by Earth benders, spent some time with my sisters at the Southern water tribe, saw the northern spirit lights. Just to name a couple of places” you smile “I met a couple of nice of people alone the way. After two year I felt like maybe it was time to settle down and went to Republic City, I stepped into this little tea shop owned by the sweetest old lady who offered me shelter in exchange to help her clean the shop and wash dishes. She even taught me to cook some dishes. I spent about a month in the city and ran into the Sato family one day. Gave them some smart ideas about their satomobile designs, Hiroshi Sato liked it so much he offered me a job as the Head of Design for the satomobile and other cars.” You hear a noise coming from Lin and your ear perks up and turn over to her

“wait, you’re telling me that the car that I drive as well as the rest of Republic City…” Lin gives you an incredulous face, her lips parted not believing a word you’re saying at this point. It gives you a moment to start laughing and you grin. “Yup, I designed them. Well Hiroshi Sato had a blueprint of his initial plan, but I modified it to give the sleek design it has now. The curves and overall look that makes those cars desirable to own. Might I add, you look incredible in your car, Chief. Even though you don’t need the car to look incredible. You do well on your own.” You smirk and look at her that Link closes her lips and gives you a small frown you can see a slight blush creep up on her cheeks and rolls her eyes giving you a puff and looks away. “Quit the garbage, y/n”

You softly laugh “I’m serious on all accounts, the design, and about you in the car. I think you’ve known me long enough to know that I am nothing but honest.” You smile then you lean back on your arms and look over at her. She just lets about puff of air crossing her arms more on her check. You let the silence settle down a bit before you attempt to speak again “I spent two years in republic city working with the Sato, I kept hearing a voice that there was more other there for me. Most people would call me stupid for leaving a good job. I was paid handsomely; I could afford anything I wanted. I send half of my earnings split between my sisters and kept the other half and still had a hefty amount of yuans left. I looked at tourist attractions and a couple of maps and noticed about Zaofu. I already told you that part and the whole part of me coming back here.” You think back making sure you haven’t left out anything out then realized “oh! The cycle, it was a parting gift from Asami and Hiroshi Sato, it was Asami’s idea and it gave the two of them a chance to work together, so that was nice. They both built it together but Asami made clear that she handled the overall look. During the time I spent with Asami, I learned to maintain that cycle. So far that cycle is my most prized possession. It’s my preferred mode of transportation.” You smile then exaggerate a long exhale then give a long stretch

“well that’s everything, you’re caught up to my story” you look over at Lin and her eyes are full of awe and wonder.

“but you’re so young, yet you’ve experience so much.” Lin muttered

“yeah, it’s a gift and a curse” you mumble

“how so?” Lin raised an eyebrow as she glances your way focused on you and only you.

“well most people just stay at the place they were born. So people my age all they know is their place of birth. So it’s hard to find exciting people. I tend to relate more and make better friends with the older generation, who have gone out and explored or have experiences, than people my own age.” You softly chuckle

“well not me, I’ve stayed here in Republic City majority of my life. It’s all I know and all I want to know” Lin mumbled

“I didn’t mean to offend, it’s good that you know what you want, but I feel it deep inside that Republic City is where I am needed.” You look up at the sky and see the sky setting

“so since you got to know more about me. You want to tell me about your scar?” you softly speak not really looking over at Lin

There is a long pause and you’re about to tell her to forget about it until you hear her voice as she tries to speak.

“I was answering a call about a robbery, I answered and ran into the car and chased it down. I rammed into the car with my metal cables and saw Su- the perp steps out the car. I told her to stay where she was, and she attempted to leave. I apprehended her with my metal cables, that’s when Su- she cut herself free and the cables recoiled and hit me on the cheek. The pain was excruciating. I closed my eyes from the pain and by the time I opened them the perps were gone.” It sounds like the story causes Lin to get upset.

“wow, that sucks. I hope you found that perp and slammed her into a ceil” you mutter out loud as you lay back putting your arms behind your head.

“oh I tried” Lin mumbled under her breath; you could barely catch what she said.

“what?” you look over at her

“I couldn’t find her. It seemed like she escaped the city” Lin quickly spoke out.

“well if I was that perp I would do the same thing. I would probably just change my name and ask Mother of Faces to grant me a new face.” You breathe out you can’t help but notice Lin smile at your comments which brings a smile to your face.

“but that firebender-- the one that gave me this scar--was wrong about one thing”

“what’s that?” Lin asked and you smirk as you look down

“those scars actually helped me in the whole romance department. Women love scars, I would be lying if I said I picked them up by my charming personality” you smile and laugh softly “there is something about scars that people find attractive, I guess it’s the mystery behind the scar, it gives them a sense of danger, sexiness. I don’t know but its works. So maybe I should find that guy and give him a thank you card” you shrug and look at Lin your eyes glancing over to her scars. “I think they’re right” you mutter as you sit up and look at Lin turning half your body towards her.

“I had every intention of getting revenge on that guy but If I remember right there’s that saying about how revenge is like a two-headed rat-viper. While you watch your enemy go down, you’re being poisoned yourself. It's easy to do nothing, but it's hard to forgive.” You softly speak then look up at Lin “as much as it’s easy to go after the person who caused you and I harm, sometimes it’s better to forgive and move on, and plus the scars you have are hot” you smile

“Don’t let the scars wear you. You wear the scars like a sexy badass. They increase your sex appeal. I mean you’re beautiful with or without the scars. I’ve never seen you without the scars but you look incredible hot now.” you mutter out then your eyes widen realizing you just said all that out loud. You slowly turn your head over to look at Lin, your cheeks a bright red, and you see her look at you with a blush as well.

“what did you say to me?” she muttered, her breathing gets slightly uneasy. unsure what to do.

You lean in a bit and reach over and softly brush her scars on her cheek, her breath hitches. “you, Lin Beifong, are beautiful. It’s hard not to find you beautiful.” You softly whisper as you look at her eyes and see the sunset setting down. The rays hitting her eyes illuminating you glance between her eyes and lips and the air around the both of you has drastically shifted. You sense a change of gravity as you slowly lean in and Lin’s body seems to react the same way. Both of your faces merely inches apart, “Lin…” you whisper the breath from your lips touch hers and causes her lips to part slightly as you can feel her breath hit your lips as well. Your hand softly on her scarred cheek and you close your eyes readying yourself with anticipation to kiss her.

There’s a static noise and the sound of a radio interference comes thru “Chief Beifong do you copy” those words seem to wake Lin from a trance and you feel a hand on your chest slowly push you back, you open your eyes and see Lin lean back as she looks down slowly shaking her head.

“This can’t happen”

“Chief, do you copy?” the officer on the radio calls out again.

“Lin…” you speak out softly, your eyes with confusion on what’s going on.

“this didn’t happen” Lin doesn’t seem to listen to you as she quickly gets up and collects herself.

“Lin” you call out to her. You mind can’t think of anything other than her name. She finally looks up at you and stands her ground.

“nothing happened” her voice stern as she gives you a glare as she starts walking back to her car.

“1-2 Chief, do you read me?” the officer calls out again thru the radio

“what is it!” Lin barks out as she answers the call

“Sorry Chief, councilman Tarrlok called. He wants to speak to you about a council meeting at City Hall” the officer rang out Lin pushes the button to respond

“I’m heading over there now” Lin groans in annoyance then ends the transmission.

You finally catch your thoughts and walk over to Lin “so are we not going to talk about what almost happened?”

Lin looks around and then gives you a hard glare “There’s nothing to talk about. Nothing. happened.” She muttered harshly then quickly speeds off. You stand there at the sidewalk left with more confusion and walk back to the tree and try to gather your thoughts.

You groan and sit back down then out of aggravation you punch the ground and accidentally raised a piece of earth above the ground and you curse under your breath and try your best to fix the ground back to its previous state. Then fall back on your back and close your eyes picturing everything as if rewinding then stop at that moment. The moment everything changed.

*

Lin drove down the streets of Republic City, but her mind was racing with the images reserve in her mind. Y/N mentioned you was beautiful and your whole demeanor changed. Your face went… soft. It’s as if Link didn’t think she could or would be called beautiful, sexy, she thought she didn’t have any sex appeal. Yet, here is y/n and she is telling you all these things that were unheard of to you. Then if that wasn’t enough, she had to softly touch your face, she caressed your cheek with such delicacy as if not trying to cause you any more harm on your scarred cheek.

Your body just reacted to hers and leaned in, leaned into her touch, leaned into her space. You had this longing feeling, something awakened deep inside you that you couldn’t quite place. You saw her lean in, right? Y/N leaned in just as much as you. Right? No. You lost control. You went weak. You shake your head and concentrate behind the wheel, swerving to the next lane as you almost hit a truck, then gain control.

“No, this can’t happen. Nothing happened. This is just my mind playing tricks with me.” Lin mutters under her breath as she looks out into the streets as she drives gritting her teeth.

*

You stay at the park and pulling your knees up to your chest as your mind keeps replaying those images in your mind. There is something brewing between the two of you, at least from your part you’re starting to fall for Lin. Do you think Lin feels somewhat the same? I hope nothing changes between us during work. You wonder then fall onto your back and cover your face with your hands. This is going to be a long night.

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Weird “Humor.”

Good morning everyone! Decided to write something nice and short today because I know a lot of you are here for that. I haven’t done it in a while, so I hope you appreciate my return :) 

Scene: Dr Krill (an alien with arguably the most experience dealing with humans) is being interviewed on-record during the intergalactic convention of psycho-bio-medical science.                                      

Q: WHat was the hardest thing for you to get used to the first time you stepped aboard a human ship?

A: To ask that question I would have to tell you about practically everything that happened to me while I was there. Living with humans is hard, and strange if you aren’t human. Everything about them is strange, and more complicated than it needs to be. For the longest time I had trouble keeping up with their communication.

Q: I was told that human communication is relatively simple.

A: Whoever told you that has never met a human, when humans speak they use oth verbal and body language to demonstrate their point, and worse than tha, they intentionally use irony, hyperbole, sarcasm and humor to communicate what they are saying.

Q: What is ... humor.

A: “\Now, as the humans would say sit back and rela because you just opened a massive can of worms.

Q What

A Exactly, human communication doesn’t make sense unless you spend time with them. You practically have to BECOME human to understand anything that’s going on. As for the case of humor, it is very complicated, and I still don’t quite understand it. I have experienced the phenomenon of humor in a way I don’t think is possible for many of my species. I’ve tried to explain it before, but it’s Ike explaining the color blue to a creature who seems primarily in infrared, they just won;t get it.

Q can you try?

A Of course I will. Humor is the appreciation of a specific situation or turn of phrase, but even that is completely inadequate to explain what humor is. It’s a….. primarily social, but not always, experience that is designed to help a group of humans empathizes, connect, or diffuse a situation. It is very important to be able to see the humor when with a group of humans because it will strengthen a social bond between you and them.

Q Can we have some examples.

A Well…. this could potentially be a long list so forgive me if I ramble on.

Humans have these things called jokes, sometimes they are stories and sometimes they are clever word play. The story joke generally begins with something that seems normal or at least plausible but the ... punch line (as the humans call it) is designed to be absurd, exaggerated or unexpected. For example you have three humans stranded on an island, one has dark hair, one has red hair, one has yellow hair. They dark hair human gets tired of this, and tries to swim back to the mainland, halfway across she drowns. Eventually the red hair human gets tired of being on the island and tries to swim as well, but she drowns halfway there. Finally the light hair human decides to try. She gets halfway to her destination, gets tired and swims back.

Q And what makes that funny. Two humans died.

A It’s funny because the last human got halfway there and swam back implying she could have made it all the way to the mainland but was too dumb to do so. Exaggerated lack of intelligence, and an absurd situation.

In the case of word play you can say something like: what do you get when you cross a centipede with a parrot. ONe of those is a creature with many legs, and the other one is a bird capable of mimicking speech. THe answer is a walk-in-talkie, a type of short-wave handheld radio.

Q I don’t get it.

A I wouldn’t expect you to. It requires a very in-depth knowledge of human history and culture. Some other things that can be considered funny to a human include.

Non-human things trying to do human things, and this includes animals exhibiting human behavior. HUmans find it very funny when less intelligent creatures exhibit human behavior. THese can include strange un-animal noises and even an animal trying to do something that normally only humans do

This rule also applies to their own offspring. A small human attempting to do something above their capabilities, like speak or, even, attempt a skill is greatly amusing to humans.

Sometimes the jokes that humans use don’t even involve irony, but are designed the annoy the person they are targeted at. In this case the targeted human might expect the answer to be clever, but instead get something that is either obvious or really stupid. In this case what is funny is not the joke itself, but the reaction to the joke. Sometimes these are called anti jokes and are specifically designed to be funny by way of not being very funny.

Q Can you demonstrate that to us?

A Yes of course.

What is big, red and bad for your teeth.

Q I don’t know, what?

A A brick

Q Well….. yes I suppose.

A You see it's funny because not only is it obvious, but it also implies that someone threw a brick at someone else’s face.

Q Humans consider other people’s pain entertaining?

A OH yes, very much. This gives rise to two types of humor. Watching others get hurt and the dark humor.

Dark human involves saying something gruesome or wildly inappropriate. I am under the impression it is a way to test how socially close a group of people is. Because if you are with an unfamiliar group of people you don’t know how they will react to a potentially offensive or dark joke, and so may not use one. If a human deployed one, they may be gaging the reaction of those around them. I would say that, on average, humans have a lot of very dark thoughts, and the knowledge that other humans also have dark thoughts brings them more socially close. IF you can make a dark joke around a human that implies than you can say other inflammatory things without getting into trouble. As I was saying humans have a lot of dark and sometimes aggressive thoughts, and the ability to vent and share them is very important for mental health, but they need to make sure they find a proper group to confide in.

An example would be: what is the difference between a truckload of bowling balls and a truck load of dead babies….. you cannot unload the bowling balls with a pitchfork

Q: That…… is…. disturbing.

A: It’s a little bit funny

On the other hand, watching other people get hurt is a complicated type of humor.

It may be funny because the other person was doing something stupid, or against the rules, and it is entertaining to see them get what was coming to them. Humans like justice.

Sometimes it is designed as a way for humans to empathize with another being. Seeing someone get hurt wincing and then laughing about it is a way of saying I feel your pain, but I’m glad it’s not me.

Of course there is the humor that involves laughing at someone you genuinely hate who got hurt. IN this case you have always desired to hit that person, but it is not socially acceptable, but watching them get hurt by something else causes a sort of….. release of tension and anger.

Sometimes humans watch just to make themselves feel better that they aren’t in that situation or their life isn’t that bad.

In large groups, this is a way for humans to practice empathy and also socially bond with those round them

Q You said earlier that it was an important tool in defusing situations…. how does that work.

A Well that its a very good question and it comes with, what I think is the most interesting aspect of human humor.

IF you’re with your friends, and one of them runs face first into a pole, you may think it is funny, but it’s only funny if the person isn’t hurt, or a couple days after the incident when the person is fine. In both cases it is a way to demonstrate relief or test to see if the other person is ok. It can even be used to let others know that you're ok.

Human history is filled with some of the greatest and most horrible tragedies imaginable, and for every one of them you will be able to find jokes. Studies have shown that the use of humor is a proper and helpful outlet to the emotions that come with tragedy. You may hear a human say that there were only two options in a situation “It was either laugh or cry.” Both include the release of emotion which can be cathartic.

Assume there is a tense meeting between group of humans Violence is about to break out, but someone makes a joke. The atmosphere is diffused and social bonding occurs allowing the humans to be less hostile towards each other, and probably get something done.

In cases of humans who have experienced past trauma, I find that the healthiest, mentally healthiest, humans have a habit of making fun of the trauma. In many cases it helps them to cope with what happened and serves as a sign to let others know that they are doing ok.

Q And there are other types of humor as well?

A If I were to talk about all of them, we would be here all day. I think the important takeaway from this is that humans use humor  primarily for reasons of social bonding. If a human thinks you are funny they are more likely to like you and more likely to be your friend. Even in human relationships, the funnier you are the more likely you are to find a mate, so to anyone planning to spend time with humans, I would recommend putting a great amount of focus and study into their humorous.

[peachyteabuck]

eye on the prize

summary: commission for astrid, who asked for chris evans x reader interview fluff.

pairing: chris evans x reader

words: 3,006

trigger warnings: RPF, slow burn, heavy flirtation, idiots in love, nondescript mentions of misogyny in the media as a business, a likely poorly reconstructed timeline (time fake and reality is a construct!)

ask box / masterlist / commission info / ko-fi

The hotel bed is large, big enough for four of you. The blankets are thick and the soft, the pillows a perfect balance of structured but plush. Sunbeams stream onto the mused sheets, warming your face. It’s nice, but only as nice as the calm before a major tropical storm can be. As your phone alarm blares next to you, you start to wonder if being caught in a category five hurricane would be better than press junkets.

A whole day talking to people about a movie you made months ago that you know jack shit about. Sometimes you have nightmares about giving a book report on a novel you’ve never even opened (you’re how old? And high school is still haunting you? Jesus, you need to go back to therapy) that cause you to break out in a cold sweat and kick all the covers from your bed and buy a bunch of stuff online to distract yourself from your racing heart and shaking hands.

Still, those are never as bad as interviewers asking about character arcs and plotlines and your relationship with actors you’ve barely (if ever) met and whatever else a normal interviewer would ask a normal interviewee when all you know is your character, the fact that she does shit with magic, and she’s Dr. Strange’s daughter. Anything other than that is anyone’s guess.

Your stylist and makeup artists are the ones to eventually drag you out of bed and plop you into hair and makeup after squeezing you into an incredibly tight pair of jeans and a non-controversial sweater. The forty-five minutes are a complete blur, but then again, nothing feels real until Sebastian hands you a large coffee in a travel cup that bares no logo or other kind of copywritten signifier – your knight in shining…cardboard? What are travel coffee cups even made of? Paper? Can paper even “shine?”

You’re nearly purring when the taste of caramel macchiato burns your tongue. “Ah. Thanks, Seb. I appreciate it.”

Sebastian shrugs, sipping at his own drink masquerading as generic brand. “No problem. I didn’t want you to bite an interviewer’s head off this morning. Or worse, mine.”

You play-hit him in the face and laugh with him, making small talk and trying to kill the time before the mind-numbingly long day really begins. You’re halfway through a rant about the woes of make up artists trying to put you in a full face of makeup to a man who barely has to put on concealer, the fucking asshat, when Chris makes an appearance.

“Hey, guys,” he’s is also drinking coffee from the unmarked travel cups. He looks you up and down before taking another sip. “You look really nice today.”

You blush, smoothing out your sweater – one of the color-blocked ones that sits at the intersection of casual, feminine, and not-intimidating. “Thanks, you too.”

Sebastian’s about to say something snarky when someone wearing a headset calls upon the three of you.

“Let’s get going, people!” she calls, ushering you into three barely-comfortable seats. You’re between Chris and Sebastian, the sheer mass of them making you feel approximately three feet tall. It doesn’t take much to forget how large they both are – even if Sebastian doesn’t weight two hundred pounds anymore and Chris was able to tone down his exercise regime since finishing Infinity War, you still feel like you’re sitting at the big-kid table for the first time.

The first interviewer is from some YouTube channel you only know because your fourteen-year-old niece gushes about them every family dinner. The woman who sits in front of you is young, cute. Dresses trendy, dark eye makeup and red lips.

She’s nice, too, along with being knowledgeable about the projects of each of you. She banters with Sebastian about his seven million movies before turning to you.  

The interviewer turns to you. “And you! You’re nominated for some pretty major awards!”

You smile wide, unable to help yourself. “Yeah, best actress and best original score.”

“That’s so cool,” Chris mumbles. You blush and pretend not to hear him as you speak again.

“It’s just super crazy,” you tell the interviewer. “Not even gonna lie. When I was younger, I would look at stars who like, cried when they found out they were nominated. Not even winning, just their name shows up on the ballot. But now I’m like, it’s me, two-time Grammy nominee! I was nominated for a Grammy, twice!”

Sebastian chimes in, laughing. “When we were at bunch together, I got there early and the caterer showed up and they were like, we’re here for the two-time Grammy nominee?”

“You had a brunch?” The interviewer asks.

You nod. “Yeah, I bunch of the Avengers cast and the cast from my last movie were in my hometown, which is super rare, so I hosted this giant brunch-”

“As one does,” Sebastian chimes in with a crooked smile.

You nearly hit him. “Yes! As I do! I wanted to see all my friends, whom I love, so I host a brunch. Sue me! Anyway…I hosted this brunch and invited a bunch of people over. Just a bunch of my favorite food from my favorite restaurants. Everyone I’d wanted to see for such a long time was there. It was amazing.”

The interviewer paints a faux frown across her face, looking at the man on your right. “Chris, you look very sad.”

“I didn’t get invited to the brunch,” Chris frowns. Unlike the woman in front of you, he looks genuinely sad. A twinge of pain bounces in your ribcage, and you rub his cardigan-clad back

“You were out doing Broadway shit!” you laugh. “You were halfway across the country!”

Chris continues to frown, staring at the printed-out pictures from the social medias of various guests. A few are from yours – you in a flowy sundress with your head thrown back laughing, a shot of you and a few of your friends from college drinking alcohol in the bright mid-afternoon sun. One you recognize from Sebastian’s Instagram, another from Hemsworth’s. A few from Twitter of a few of your non-movie-star friends. You look so happy in all of them, so beautiful in each shot. “I still wanted to be invited.”

You just roll your eyes. “Okay, call me when you’re in my region of the country and I’ll host a brunch,” You touch your forefinger to his nose. Chris blushes, profusely, in his cheeks and his ears. “just for you and me.”

You don’t hear much after that, too focused on Chris’ eyes meeting yours and his small smile. You’re taken aback by how sweet, tender he looks, and before you know it the interviewer is saying goodbye and the next one is taking her place.

It’s a man this time, a little older than the last one with artsy facial hair and a button hip. He mostly pays attention to the two men and soon your brain goes on battery-saver and you’re lost in your own thoughts.

Are hipsters still a thing? Is that what this guy is trying to be? Do hipsters even like Marvel? Is that too “mainstream for them?”

Eventually he asks a question about you, your recent entry into the Marvel Cinematic Universe, your music, your composing. You’d be happy to talk about your passions, of course you are, but the first genuine question of the interview is positing towards…not you. You’re about to tune everything out again, but then Chris speaks and you snap back to attention.

“It’s always interesting to meet people who bring something new to the art form, ya know? A huge part of acting is learning and evolving and all that, especially from other actors,” Chris avoids your gaze, and the gaze of everyone else, as he speaks. “If you stop learning, if you stop growing, what’s the point? Why would I do this job if I didn’t think it could change me for the better?”

There’s a moment of thick silence, the heavy weight of Chris’ introspective answer settling over the people in the room. It’s one of the things you lo-

It’s one of the things you enjoy most about Chris, how dedicated he is to acting as more than a job. It’s amazing, truly, how much he adores what he does. You could spend the rest of time with him, a plate of cheese, and a bottle of wine; listening to him talk about how he thinks of acting as an art, how that art can impact people and society, how actors have a responsibility to that art (that is, of course, after you mock him endlessly for Not Another Teen Movie and Fantastic Four).

You feel like a high schooler again, doodling your first and his last name in hearts in your math notebook with your favorite pink glitter pen. You’re an adult, why are you blushing red as a raspberry every time he says something smarter than a fast food order?!

The rest of the day goes down in a blur, the only time you start to care again when someone on the production staff calls for dinner (yeah, no lunch on press junket day. You can ask for a light snack, but you learned the hard way a full meal is “bad for your figure” and “makes you likely to burp on camera” and a bunch of other stuff you care very little about).

All three of you groan in happiness when you enter the room designated as craft, the thick smell of barbeque hitting you like a baseball bat. But a good baseball bat, though, like…one you ask to be hit with. Honestly, you have no idea what you’re talking about because you’re so hungry.

When you finally manage to scavenge food, Sebastian’s right behind you as you stare at a very delicious looking tray of pulled pork. Your plate is already full, but what if they take the food away? And then what if you get hungry later?

“You know he’s flirting with you, right?” he whispers as you watch the man in question scroll through Twitter on his phone. Chris is eating about the same thing you are, plus celery. You almost make a quip about it being “nature’s floss,” but then you realize that would be dumb because Sebastian definitely wouldn’t find it as funny as Chris would.  

You shrug, picking up a French fry from your plate. “Yeah, but you were, too.”

He scoffs into his second Americano of the morning. “Nah. Not like that. He likes you! He like likes you!”

“He does not-“

“And you like-like him!” He boops you on the nose and pinches your cheek like some sort of grandmother who hadn’t seen her fifteen-year-old son since he was five. “My little baby has a cruuuush!” he coos while making small kissy noises.

You’re about to bite back about how you’re not that much younger than him, but then the sound guy on the other side of the meat tray glares at the both of you. Looks like, while Chris couldn’t hear your bickering from the across the room, this dude definitely could – and he’s not very happy about it.

“Sorry,” you both mumble, shrinking away from the persecuting techie and his judgmental eyes.

Sebastian only talks again when you find an unpopulated corner, devoid of prying eyes and anyone who could be annoyed with the two of you gossiping like high schoolers.

“You know I’m not wrong, right?” he says around a bite of crisp apple. What is up with this guy and fruit?  Sure, he’s on a restrictive diet for a role to keep him from bulking up (something at the intersect of keto and vegetarian but able to eat lean meats) but he’s can’t eat like, the vegan stuff? Why must he always eat like rabbit in your presence? “Have you not seen what he says on Twitter?”

You scoff. “No, because I don’t have a Twitter. And neither do you!” You narrow your eyes accusingly. “How do you know what he posts?” Sebastian rolls his eyes. “I see screenshots on Instagram, first of all. Second, he could be complimenting your music on the inside of a cave. It’s about the principle.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” you hiss. “Also, I’m done arguing with you about this. Let me find a cheeseburger and eat in peace. Is that too much a woman to ask, Sebastian!?”

He just laughs you off and lets you eat in peace, eventually getting his own food. Though, you suppose the meal was specially timed, because then Chris Evans is sitting next to you.

He’s about to say something, too, and you’re about to listen, but then you get called for an individual interview for a women’s health magazine and you have to leave him and you plate of food and fuck…you hate this job. A lot.

The interview is boring, once again, and the next time you have another coherent thought you’re taking the elevator back up to your hotel room and waving off your manager, who is telling you to be downstairs by seven tomorrow to catch your flight back home.

You’re just kicking off your heels when you hear a faint knock at the door. When you look through the peephole, you see a very sad-looking Christopher Evans. With his small frown and hunched shoulders, he looks like a kicked puppy; and even though all you want to do is take your bra off, you let him in.

He’s quiet for a moment before speaking as if he was a child preparing to be scolded.

“I lost my hotel key. And my backup got demagnetized.”

You bite back a laugh, trying to seem sympathetic. “Do you want to chill in here until security brings you another one?”

Chris nods solemnly as he steps through the threshold. “Thanks.”

Neither of you speak for a while, instead Chris looks around your quite messy (or “homey,” as you call it when you FaceTime your best friend and she scoffs at how easy you can make a room look like a hurricane tore through it) room and you…find an outfit for tomorrow?

You’re the first one to speak, only breaking the quiet after changing into fuzzy socks and sneakily taking off your lacey bra (and tucking it under the covers of the bed for you put away later).

“Well, that was excruciating,” you mumble. All you want to do is change into your biggest, most comfortable hoodie and your cotton panties and order room service and ignore humanity until you leave for a flight the next morning, but a man you’ve had a crush on since he appeared as Johnny Storm is right in front of you and after that talk with Sebastian your world is kind of shaken to its core and should you make a move? Is he the kind of guy to not like that? Would you want to be with a guy that doesn’t like that? What if he-

“Always are, I guess.” Chris interrupts your train of thought, saving it from going off the rails. When you at him he looks just as, if not more than, exhausted than you are. “That’s one of the things that you forget, I think. How hard it is to talk about these movies.”

You snort. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Chris smile a little wider as you laugh. “Yeah. Other movies I can talk about like, characters and plots and shit. With these I live in constant fear I’m gonna pull a fucking Ruffalo and get my ass fired from the best paying gig I’ve ever had.”

Chris laughs with you, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Word.”

An awkward silence fills the room and you find something, anything to do to avoid his heavy gaze under those thick eyelashes and his thick beard that you just want to run your fingers through or his even softer hair that you want to mess up while you-

“Do you want to get dinner together sometime?” you blurt. You’re ready to take back the words as soon as you say them, wanting to backtrack or say “just friends” or “ha-ha, just kidding!” or something else that absolves you of non-platonic commitment.

By a long stretch of luck that you can’t even begin to thanks a long number of deities for, Chris doesn’t laugh at you or turn you down or even walk out of the room. He meets your gaze with excitement in his eyes and a smile wider than your home state. “I’d love to,” is all he says. It’s all either of you get to say before his phone rings loudly, and the name of the head of security flashes on his screen. He sighs loudly, apologizing as he takes it. Somehow, you feel more awkward as he turns away and answers the call. You fidget with your hands, with a loose thread on the sweater you’ve come to hate more than anything else in the world, with your phone. Nothing makes it easier to face Chris again once he hangs up.

“That was…,” he laughs lightly. Not laughing at you, maybe at life or how weird his life is, but never at you. “You know. They fixed my key and want to give it to me in person.”

You swallow and nod. “Yeah, understandable. I’ll, uh,” you clear your throat. “I’ll see you…”

Chris finishes for you. “How about we find a good restaurant near here after I’m confirmed to actually be me by the private security detail our employers hired to make sure no one kills us? We can have that second dinner I’ve heard you always eat late at night.”

Holy shit…he remembered that time you vaguely mentioned how much you enjoy staying up late and eating lots of food. It makes you blush as you respond.

“Yeah that sounds,” you sigh happily, smile just as big as his is. “That sounds great.”

[kinetic-elaboration]

June 2: 2x21 Patterns of Force

Took a nap after work today!! Perhaps a bad idea.

Anyway, some thoughts on the... awkward Patterns of Force.

Another story about Jim looking for his hero, I see. That never (always) ends badly.

Definitely getting an image of little Spock (teenage Spock? young adult Spock? all little Spocks) reading about Earth history.

Oh no, an armed drone. That does not bode well. Why do Kirk’s heroes always betray him?

A subcutaneous transponder. That seems like a useful device to introduce into the narrative. (Slash remember for future purposes...)

Also it reminds of me “He’s a...a... a transponster!”

Spock in a hat. I guess the Ekosians and/or Zeons don’t have pointed ears, then.

“It’s our old enemy...fascism.”

Well this guy literally was not subtle in his references to Nazi Germany. (I’m referring in universe to what’s-his-face but this also applies to the episode writer.)

“The evidence is clear... someone did interfere.”

“You look quite well for a man who’s been utterly destroyed, Mr. Spock.” This man canNOT stop flirting for one second.

Lol, using Spock to distract the Nazi.

“It’s logical to pretend to be a Nazi? Okay, I’m convinced. You said the magic word.”

“Look! I captured him!” So proud.

Kirk’s face when Spock says he would make a convincing Nazi. Bb, you’re not doing the compliment thing right. (I’ll actually be quite honest... I find the humor in that moment but it also makes me uncomfortable given both these actors are Jewish.)

That said, Kirk is canonically better at blending into undercover scenarios than Spock is. He thinks better on his feet, creatively.

How do these people NOT recognize two whole-ass aliens.

...Maybe they do.

I do like when Kirk is being interrogated and still tries to be charming..

That Nazi really lost a lot of authority after being dressed down by his superior in front of the captives.

I like this Zeon. 

“The flaw in the plan is this locked door.” Thanks Spock. It’s this subtle humor that I think people often miss in him. Like where you can’t tell if it’s intentional or not.

Kirk is so smart!!! He never gets credit for being this smart.

Hmm, taking out the transponders is such a weirdly intimate scene.

The Zeon wants to be included in this adventure so much but they’re obsessed with each other, like “What Zeon?”

“I’ll be your platform, Mr. Spock.”

This is such a weirdly humorous interlude for a story about Nazis. Kind of reminds me in a way of that conversation with the police man on City on the Edge of Forever. I mean that ep was much better but just like the sudden switch in tone.

Spock’s like “Oh, that was cool. Made a laser.”

I heard Kirk say, “You, over there,” as in directing Spock to stand over there, but the subtitles say “Beautiful. Over there.” As in, “we did a beautiful job getting out, now Spock, stand over there.” But combine them...?

Not gonna get a disguise for Spock huh? Just gonna let him be shirtless a little more for no apparent reason.

Poor Zeon. These aliens are inscrutable and not letting him in on anything.

“Alien pistols.”

“Who would win? the entire military force of this planet or two phaser-less space husbands?"

I probably shouldn’t laugh every time Kirk impersonates a Nazi but I do. "Don't mind me... completely believable Nazi here..."

The unsubtle of the Hebrew names. And of course.. .Zeon.

“We’ll be just as bad as the Nazis.” No, actually, you’re not and never will be that’s not how it works. BUT you definitely should help the aliens. Like, that phrase grates because it’s usually used to refer to, like, use of violence, use of “censorship” but here’s it more about turning away people who are different or minority and so then it does make sense but....the connotations.

Spock’s like, “May I... get away from this emotion? Has enough time passed for me to ask that?”

More Nazis! Following them everywhere!

Oh, psych. Not Nazis after all.

Spock’s like “Betraying your own father, you say? I have never thought about that.”

“The Fuhrer... is an alien?” Actual real line AND a correct summation of the situation.

This ep does not paint the Federation in a great light. Although to be fair... John Gill was breaking the rules so.

Documentary corps... I love it. Great disguise. Flash lights in people’s eyes, have an excuse to stay in a group, no on looks at you. Genius.

Spock is honestly so bright-eyed and bushy-tailed about EVERYTHING. He cannot be tamed. Again, really an aspect of him I miss in the reboots.

Kirk really is the captain of everyone in his vicinity.

“Think positively, Spock.”

Uhura is unflappable. “A Nazi Colonel’s uniform? Of course, Captain.”

Send him down naked if you have to!! Yes, please, send him down naked.

Spock giving McCoy detailed instructions on how to put on boots... Why was dialogue like this not in the reboots?

McCoy is so polite. Polite first, confused later. “Nice to meet you, Nazi--wait, Nazi???”

I love how McCoy immediately put on his drunk face and Spock was like, "An opportunity to insult McCoy?? Awesome.”

So I assumed the Chairman was either dumb or didn’t recognize them with their shirts on but apparently he was yet another mole, so. At least it’s not a plot hole.

“The speech has no discernible pattern or logic.” Hmmm, I wonder what it feels like to have a leader who speaks with no discernible pattern or logic?

Guys. Pals. Awful people. Did he really give orders, or did he just say random shit? People will flock to anything. I'll be honest, I actually think this is one of the subtler and better parts of this episode: how chilling it is to contemplate how people will rally around any non-speech that has the right tone and a few key words. This is garbage language. But it incites people to kill.

McCoy and his stimulants again.

Spock and his mind probing again.

Wow Spock really messed with his mind there. “He can answer questions but not otherwise speak?” What kind of crazy shit is that?

They are being so mean to Spock. “Malformed ears.” “Low forehead.” That’s not a low forehead, that’s bangs.

Nice triumivirate scene at the end. Feels good, feels organic. Kirk likes to hear his two BFFs bickering because it feels like all is right with the universe, and I agree. Nature is healing.

This episode has a very weird (and very hard to swallow imo) backstory. Like, who primarily associates the Nazis with efficiency? And even if you do, if you think there’s something to the way they put together the country so fast post-WWI, all of this “efficiency” is directly tied to hatred and violence. Like Isak said, the Ekosians have nothing to hold them together BUT hating Zeons. That's at the center of the design. It's not like Gill’s plan backfired it was just... a horrible plan?? It doesn’t even make sense to me that his “effective regime” was co-opted by one hateful person because what was at the center of the “Nazi” regime before the hatred of Zeons? What could it have been? There are no other alternatives provided. Also, even if it could have been somehow accomplished without the use of a scapegoat.. is fascism really an ideal? Like the story never reckoned with that concept at all, which I find disturbing.

Here’s the thing about Gill. He is a certain real type and I appreciate his inclusion up to a point. He’s the Naive, Hubristic Intellectual. He thinks because he’s studied something, academically, he knows more about it even than people who experienced it, and he can fix all of its problems. “I can do this, but better. I am so smart, I am so well-informed, I have no flaws.” I can even see this sort of person being someone a young Kirk would admire because there’s an optimism and idealism to this naivete. I don’t think Kirk is arrogant but he is very idealistic, and when he was a young man, still in the market for heroes, or at least idols or mentors? Yeah, someone with that kind of attitude toward life--that we can deeply understand and then improve upon history--would have appealed to him. It’s possible that Gill even was the “compassionate, gentle” person that Kirk thought, or that he had that side to him.

Where I think the episode erred is in absolving Gill of most of his guilt for this state of affairs. He does die and he does admit he was wrong, but his biggest sin is allegedly in introducing a regime that could be co-opted for evil rather than one that was inherently bad. He is literally drugged (tortured in a way), to emphasize just how non-culpable the narrative thinks he is. Also, while he does apologize for interfering at all, even this is fairly brief and not expanded upon in the rest of the narrative. The truth is he shouldn’t have interfered in general, because that’s not his place or his right, and he shouldn’t have interfered in this way specifically. Even if Malakon hadn’t risen and taken over, the ideal Gil was imposing was one of unthinking uniformity, lack of autonomy, worship of a leader over the rule law--these are not the values of the Federation, the show Star Trek, or me. But he’s used more as a device to explain why the show is so unsubtly Nazi, rather than a real villain or object lesson. Even though Gill is a much better object lesson than Malakon.

And what about Malakon? The ending presents him, literally and in so many words, as the “one evil man” responsible for all of this. I think we know both from studying history and, unfortunately, from our own times, that this is untrue because impossible. One evil person is just a lunatic ranting on the street corner. One evil leader became leader because others agreed and gave him power, or agreed in part, or made a deal with the devil, or disagreed but said nothing, or spoke but were overwhelmed. It’s a disservice to the subject matter to say that dictatorships or authoritarian regimes are that simple. I get that the episode is only 50 minutes and it needs to wrap up, and it’s simpler to say “Okay, killed the Villain, now we can go back to being Not Evil, all the Ekosians will be as happy as the Zeons because we never really wanted this.” But Hitler and his henchmen weren’t the only Nazis. Regular people--and in this context, regular Ekosians--weren’t Nazis too.

Overall, the episode was okay. Very awkward though. Very blunt. I think it would have been better off not using the Nazi symbology so literally. Like the idea that a human would come into a society and purposefully create something from our history is interesting (and “what if Earth but alien?” is certainly something TOS likes doing and finds various ways to do--like the gangsters in A Piece of the Action or Neo-Rome in Bread and Circuses or even literal Greek Gods in Who Mourns for Adonais?) but not worth it given which society was being emulated. It seemed to be too much an excuse to dig out the old WWII movie costumes (and put Jewish actors in Nazi regalia which... is very... distressing) and not so much an excuse for some kind of commentary along the lines of what I said above re: the hubris of historians, the hubris of time. That aspect leaves a bad taste. It had some good ideas but I think, again, it was hindered rather than helped by how literal it insisted (for some reason) on being. Compare it to A Private Little War, which was just about as obvious a Vietnam allegory as you can get, and yet still didn’t literally transport anyone to Vietnam, and this ep looks all the more clunky. I’m probably judging it more harshly than I have on previous viewings, but I really feel like... you can use sci fi to make a commentary on the rise of authoritarianism, but the delicacy of the subject matter requires you to be particularly thoughtful in the way you do it and the actual statements you’re making.

Anyway, the Enterprise Defeats Nazis is a good episode summary at least.

I think in my last attempt at a whole rewatch I stopped at around this point. I seem to have watched the next two episodes, according to Amazon, but I have a weird feeling I only watched one, the next one, By Any Other Name, and then stopped. I don’t remember either of them so we’ll see how that goes! Will they seem familiar or not?

[brokendevilwrites]

Nerd!Verse but make it Anya.

I’m going to split this particular ask up into sections as there was lots of questions and they weren’t in order chronologically, but also I wanted to write some little bits before I went back to work.

Anyway: Nerd!Verse presents...Anya.

Also very aware I don’t know my own timeline for this verse so if shit is out of place just, like, ignore it? Thanks loves.

[Find NERD!VERSE here.]

What does Anya say to Clarke after Lexa takes her back? from this ask

Lexa falls through the door around noon. 

She’s covered in rain and tears and regret and Anya ends her Skype call almost immediately, throwing out a harried excuse to her agent, and she barely makes it to Lexa in time before the brunette is dropping to her knees. Sobs rip through the girls rib cage and Anya can’t do anything but fucking stare at her. 

(She’s seen Lexa cry before; granted Lexa was six and she had just landed face first into some gravel at a pretty high speed. They never were allowed to ride their bikes down the hill after that…)

When she finally gets her act together Lexa has stopped heaving out sobs like they’re physically hurting her and she willingly stands up with Anya when the woman wraps her arm around her. Together they make it to the bathroom and Anya runs a hot bath for her friend, complete with the designer bubble bath stuff she was asked to advertise, and she helps Lexa to undress. It kills her to see her friend shake and she wishes she could un-hear the shaky ‘thank you’ that Lexa gives her as she removes her bra for her. Nobody should hurt like this, Anya thinks. 

As Lexa sinks into the hot water she seems to relax a little. There are still tracks on her cheeks and her lips are chapped and Anya doesn’t even have to ask her friend to explain what the hell is going on. 

She already knows. 

Clarke has done this before and Anya told Lexa she would do it again. She’s always been wary of the Griffin girl. Not to be mistaken with not liking her. Anya liked Clarke well enough and she thought she complimented Lexa greatly but she didn’t think they’d last and she hates that she’s right. 

They were too different.

Eventually one of them was going to break and Anya always knew it would be Clarke. Lexa was so deep in love she would have sacrificed herself to the Gods before she ever thought of upsetting Clarke. 

With gentle strokes Anya washes Lexa’s hair and she hopes the water is helping to warm her up. The weather is bitter outside; she’d wrapped up in several layers that morning to get some pastries for breakfast and she was on her second coffee to defeat the chill when Lexa had stumbled in, all heartbroken and sad and so unlike the girl she knew. 

Anya loses count of how long they stay there but when Lexa finally moves her knees are numb from where she’s been kneeling and Lexa’s cheeks are pink despite the now cool water. 

“I’m going to go to bed,” Lexa says and her eyes look so, so, tired but Anya knows that it’s not her body that’s tired. She refrains from saying anything about it being early afternoon, or that sleeping won’t help, and stands up with Lexa. Her friend looks so lost that Anya finds herself reaching for a towel and holding it wide. The action clearly snaps Lexa back into action and she bites out “I’m not a baby,” with an offended scowl.

“Get in the fucking towel, Woods,” Anya rolls her eyes but there’s no heat behind it, no malice. There never is. Lexa gives her a smile but it’s barely there before it fades and she steps out of the expensive claw-footed tub--a present from Anya’s dad when they moved in--and right into the towel. 

Anya wraps it around her friend and ignores the marks on her shoulders and her neck that tell the story of where she was last night.

“I’m ordering Chinese for dinner. Make sure you’re awake.”

;;;;

Anya clears away the cold Chinese when she wakes the next morning and puts it into the fridge with a note letting Lexa know that it is hers.

;;;;

Two days later she throws it away.

;;;;

To everyone else Lexa seems fine. 

She emerges from her bedroom on the third day looking like death and gulps down two cups of coffee and finishes a bowl of oatmeal. By the time Anya checks on her to see if she wants to go and meet Lincoln for some drinks she looks human again.

Lexa has always been amazing at putting on a show. She was incredible at it at high school, it was how she made her way to the top with such precision, and it’s clear that she’s a damn expert at it now.

During drinks it comes up in conversation that Clarke broke up with Lexa and Anya braces for the breakdown but Lexa takes a sip from her cocktail and shrugs, like it doesn’t matter, like she didn’t retreat for two whole days over it, like Anya hasn’t lost sleep.

“Is she okay?” Lincoln asks when Lexa goes to the bathroom and Anya stares at the space Lexa had been sitting in.

“I don’t know.”

;;;;

They go out one night and Anya gets so phenomenally drunk that she doesn’t realise that Lexa takes Clarke home.

She finds out the next day when Lexa slams around the apartment, nearly breaking a coffee cup with a picture of the moon on it in her temper, and Anya pauses her show to stare at her.

“She asked me how many girls I’ve slept with since we broke up,” Lexa gives as an answer and it makes Anya’s eyebrows fire up into her hairline. Lexa has barely been able to eat a full meal in the weeks since the breakup and Clarke is asking bullshit questions like that? “That’s not even something I’ve thought about but it’s something she thinks about me. Is that who she sees me as?”

Anya shrugs and unfollows Clarke on social media. 

;;;;

Weeks ease into months and soon Clarke’s name stops feeling like a grenade in Anya’s mouth. 

Lexa smiles again and she laughs in the way she used to and things seem to have settled. It’s on one of those nights--when Lexa is laughing and her eyes are bright--that she encourages Lexa to delete Clarke from social media completely. She’s been complaining about Luna non-stop and Anya is sure Lexa thinks they’re dating and she just wants to protect her best friend. 

Besides, how is she ever going to move on if the first thing she checks in the morning is Clarke's Instagram?

“There,” Lexa slurs happily around her wine glass and she drops her phone onto the couch triumphantly. It makes Anya happy to see Lexa so free, so carelessly her again, and she almost cheers in happiness. Almost. “She’s gone.”

And just like that...Lexa is sad again.

“She’s gone. It’s really over.”

Anya sighs and goes to the freezer to grab some ice-cream because Lexa is still heartbroken and Anya is her best friend.

;;;;

“Is Lexa here?”

“Who?”

“Anya, please,” Clarke begs. It’s pitiful, Anya thinks. She’s trying for the wounded look; big eyes, pouting lips, broken body. But it’s not going to work. Anya isn’t in love with her. In fact, Anya can barely look at her and Clarke is damn lucky she doesn’t slap her in the face right there. “I just want to talk to her. Please?”

She doesn’t spare Clarke another glance when she shuts the door in her face.

;;;;

Lexa crawls into her bed at about two am and Anya already knows the conversation that’s going to take place. 

“She’s going to break your heart again.”

“It’s mine to break,” Lexa tells her firmly and Anya agrees but it doesn’t mean she likes it. “You don’t have to understand, Anya. You don’t even need to like her. But please respect my choice to love her.”

Anya turns over in the bed. The sheets are satin and they feel nice as she turns which is lucky because expensive sheets put her in a good mood even if Lexa is making Anya angry enough to frown. 

Which she tries hard to not do. 

Any facial expressions tend to lead to wrinkles and she’s not about to lose out on a contact with the highest bidder just because Lexa is a dumb fucking lesbian.

“I’m on your side, Lexa. Always. But you think with your heart too much,” Anya tells her and that’s that. 

Talking about feelings isn’t exactly something they do.

;;;;

They’re having a games night and everyone's invited. Lexa and Anya host. Obviously. Their apartment is bigger than anyone else’s by miles and it makes sense because they also have two spare bedrooms. One is used as Anya’s dressing and filming room, whenever she’s doing something for YouTube or Instagram, and the other is storage but both have beds in and a place for people to crash.

Lincoln arrives with Octavia first. It’s kind of amazing how their friendship group remained so perfectly intact from high school. Anya has been friends with Lincoln and Lexa for as long as her memories go back and she doesn’t know how the dynamic would work if they had never met Octavia in freshman year. Costia had long since broken off from them but Anya still notices the likes on their pictures--only if Clarke isn’t in them. She definitely noticed that. 

Lincoln immediately heads to the ridiculously large TV and switches on the Sports Channel and loses himself. Lexa sends an amused look to Anya from where she is cooking up some tapas for the night. It’s always been like this and Anya finds herself at her most comfortable around her people.

And then Clarke arrives.

Clearly she doesn’t hide the annoyance on her face quickly enough because Octavia laughs around a mouthful of chips and Lexa quickly kisses Clarke to distract her. 

;;;;

Clarke wins at Scattergories like she always does but Anya finds she doesn’t really mind because Bellamy brought a bottle of wine that was delicious, but everyone else thought was awful, so Anya shared it with herself. Clarke is a lot easier to handle when she’s three-quarters into a bottle of wine and, really, Lexa should be thanking her. 

A ring interrupts them and Clarke excuses herself with a glance to her phone. Lexa uses the opportunity to pipe up, just as Anya is pouring her final glass, and honestly Lexa should have known what was coming as Anya finished the bottle off. 

She can’t be blamed. 

“Can you please be nice to Clarke?”

“I haven’t said anything!”

“Exactly,” Lexa snaps and she just looks at Anya like that answers everything. Anya stares at her as she sips her wine slowly and waits for her friend to continue. “Everyone else is including her but you’re completely being ignorant.”

“Maybe everyone else is being ignorant to how she dumped your ass and we had to fix it.”

When Lexa gets angry she twitches her jaw and it’s the first clue that Anya is pushing it too far. But the thing is, Anya wants to go too far. She wants Lexa to react. Besides that first day, where she completely broke, Lexa hasn’t really shown any type of emotion and Anya was born for the fight.

Clarke broke her best friend and Anya doesn’t think it’s fair that Clarke started this damn issue  without a single idea of how she was going to end it. It’s not fair that Anya picked up the pieces and Clarke gets to enjoy the finished product.

Just because Lexa’s forgiven her doesn’t mean she has to.

“Anya,” Lexa warns but then Clarke comes back in and immediately notices the tension. Anya can feel the stares of her friends but she’s never backed down from anything in her life and Lexa isn’t an exception. “Stop. My decisions are my own.”

“You make your choices. I make mine,” Anya shrugs like she isn’t fighting with her best friend. She can sense Lincoln tidying away the games as a way of distracting the rest of them and not for the first time she’s glad for his emphatic nature. Her eyes flick to Clarke, and she almost smirks at how the blonde flinches back slightly, but she continues regardless. “Difference is your choices are going to ruin you.”

“Enough.”

Anya breathes out laughter through her nose but she’s not amused. There’s no point in even trying to get Lexa to acknowledge what Clarke did--twice--because when Lexa sets her heels in then there is no moving her. It’s a flaw that’s going to get her into danger one day and Anya will be there to pick the pieces up once again.

“Maybe I should go?” Anya hears from Clarke and Lexa looks at Anya with so much fury that it makes Anya’s head spin with how quickly she can soften her features when she turns to Clarke.  

Anya practically growls. “Stop with the damn victim card,” she spits out because she’s so tired of everyone pretending that what Clarke did was okay. She broke Lexa’s heart for no fucking reason and then when she decided it was too hard being single she wriggled back into Lexa’s life and forced forgiveness from someone who wasn’t even fully over her. “I’m allowed to dislike you, Griffin. I don’t have to be your friend. Not everyone is going to think you’re amazing and that’s life. Lexa might have forgiven you but I remember what you did. The quicker you figure that out, the better.”

;;;;

For the first time since she bought their apartment Anya sleeps in a different building.

When she wakes up Lincoln is sitting on the chair next to the sofa and he nods his head at the bottle of water on the floor next to her. She takes the aspirin that lay next to it and thumps back into the pillows, a hand over her eyes, and she remembers why she hates Lincoln’s apartment. They have floor to ceiling windows that capture the light at all times of the day but they don’t have coverings for them and Anya wonders if this is what torture feels like.

“How much of last night do you remember?”

Anya groans. “All of it.”

“That sucks,” Lincoln says but he doesn’t sound like he feels bad for her. “You were an asshole.”

“I’m aware.”

“Are you going to say sorry?”

Anya just groans louder.

;;;;

Lexa doesn’t speak when Anya finally comes home and it’s such a full circle that Anya nearly laughs. She spots her reflection in the mirror next to the door and she’s glad she isn’t due to do anything until Tuesday because she looks ill. 

“We’re not kids anymore,” Lexa says and the way her voice has levelled makes Anya pay attention. Lexa has only ever really been angry a handful of times that Anya can remember, she doesn’t usually lose her cool, but for the first time in their friendship Anya is actually worried she’s taken it too far. “You’re not my mom. You don’t get to tell me what I can and can’t do. And if you’re unhappy with the decisions I’m making then I need you to talk to me. Throwing a tantrum is for children, Anya. We’re adults.”

Anya clicks her jaw in annoyance and says nothing.

“You’re my best friend. I need you to be on my side for this.”

“I’m the only one fighting in your corner,” Anya scoffs and she decides right then and there she doesn’t have time for this. Lexa can sleep with whoever she wants, she can fall in love with whoever she wants, and she can have her heart broken as many times as she wants. “I’m not about to pretend that what she did was okay just so I can spare your girlfriends feelings. She didn’t spare yours when she said you didn’t make her happy anymore. She didn’t spare them when she asked if you were sleeping with other people.”

“We’ve spoken about that. I’ve forgiven her.”

“Good for you. Forgiveness is the first sign of weakness,” Anya snaps before she takes a deep breath and wonders when she became her father. “You’re asking me to respect your decision to forgive Clarke, right? Respect mine that I can’t.”

“My relationship isn’t your business.”

“No. But you’re my business,” she says and Lexa stops at that, her eyebrows high. “You and Lincoln and Octavia. You’re all my business. I’ll protect you all exactly the same way and I’m not going to apologise for that because I know you’ll all be there when I need you too.”

Lexa nods and just like that they agree to disagree on the topic of Clarke Griffin.

---

Summer arrives and the tension lifts.

Anya tries to be civil around Clarke and, in turn, Lexa doesn’t try to push for everyone to get along. A lot of the time the easiest way of dealing with it is with avoidance and it’s working out for everyone so far. There’s no point in fixing what isn’t broken so Anya doesn’t speak to Clarke and Clarke doesn’t speak to Anya and it seems to work because their little group of friends intertwines enough that they never really have to interact.

Lexa has certainly been happier since forgiving Clarke and it’s so clear to see that denying it would be ridiculous. She hates being wrong but she secretly hopes Clarke proves her wrong about this.

“Thank you,” Clarke says as Anya stands in the kitchen of her apartment. She’s dressed in tiny shorts and a tight top and Anya wonders if she’ll be able to record the stuttering mess that will be Lexa when the girl sees her girlfriend. When Anya says nothing and takes a drink of water, Clarke continues. “For being there for Lexa. For looking after her. I didn’t do too great at that last year and I’m just really glad that she has someone looking out for her the way that you do.”

Anya doesn’t say anything and Clarke nods like she kind of expected that, her fingers curling in on themselves a little, and Anya watches.

“Your relationship isn’t my business. I’d never tell Lexa to choose and I never have,” Anya finally says and her glass makes a dull noise as she sets it on the white counter. “But I also know I should probably cut you some slack.”

It’s the closest Clarke will get to an apology or an acceptance and the smile Anya gets in return lets her know how happy Clarke is about it. “I won’t hurt her, or me, again.

“Don’t promise me. I don’t care,” Anya says with a cool tone and it makes Clarke laugh. 

;;;;

Lexa smiles at Anya later after whispering with Clarke about something and Anya knows it’ll be fine.

“Are you going to follow her on Instagram again?” Lexa asks later when they’re putting away dishes. Anya takes a plate from the rack and puts it in the cupboard, taking her time before answering.

“Absolutely not, no.”

[gretchensinister]

also TDoP Blacksand and whichever of the NDU ships strikes your fancy

For TDoP (that’s The Doors of Perception, for those who don’t know, a long human AU on Ao3—my username there is the same as my url here) I think I will only do a few, since quite a lot of these questions get answered in the fic itself!

5. Who says ‘I love you’ first?

Sandy—so early Kozzy has trouble believing he means it as seriously as he does. Sandy’s parents and all of the Guardians characters living in the house that’s the main setting say I love you far more freely than anyone in Kozzy’s family.

6. Who would they ask if they ever had a threesome?

After a lot of discussion, the answer to this is, in fact, “no one.” The conversation came up during the ‘60s part of the AU, and even though it wouldn’t have been too difficult to arrange, then, they never agreed on any particular person to ask. Later, however, in a purely hypothetical discussion, they did agree on Aragorn.

17. When they find a time machine, where do they go?

The future. The future, always and forever.

26. Why do they need to have a serious chat?

The thorniest part of writing and thinking about this AU is that I’ve tied it so closely to the real world (there are small offshoots that link it to more fantastical worlds, but the main fic is a real world human AU). Sandy and Kozzy are 73/72 this year. They don’t want to do nothing, but they can both get very paranoid about the possibility of losing the other/the other being in danger. So the chat they need to have is how they can help other people without doing things they think are intolerably risky for each other.

 *

For NDU (that’s Nightmare Dork University, for those unfamiliar, a college AU collectively built upon by a number of authors and artists that puts a whole bunch of AU Pitches and one Jack together—more of a mood than a single storyline) I will go with Nightmare Galleon, because I think I’ve really got my own particular variation of the pair now, so why not work through some headcanons?

1. Who makes the first move and how?

Pitchiner makes the first move, very straightforward, he just asks for Pitch’s number. Pitch refuses and immediately retaliates by asking for his. To Pitchiner that’s six of one, half dozen of the other, so he agrees.

2. Who is the most insecure and what makes them feel better?

Pitch is more insecure by far, but it mostly has to do with Piki rather than Pitchiner. What Pitchiner realizes, though, is that Pitch appears to feel much better when he’s doing the things that he’s good at that Piki doesn’t do. These things include costume and set design, costume construction, lighting, sound design…but if Pitch stops to think he sometimes can throw himself into a funk about how none of these aspects are as prestigious/relevant/important as being The Prodigy Playwright like Piki.

3. Who is the most romantic?

Pitchiner, but he’s also not going to be very romantic unless Pitch can stop acting like any romantic gestures he’s given are his due and taking them for granted.

4. Who can’t keep their hands to themselves?

Pitchiner is very grabby, it’s true, and the things he does are more obviously affectionate/sexual, but Pitch is also incredibly physical with Pitchiner, even if it is in a somewhat haphazard/almost violent way. He gets better with time, though the process gets set back every time he visits home, and also once when Pitchiner compared him to a rescue cat.

5. Who says ‘I love you’ first?

Pitchiner does, however it’s not in a really sweet moment, it’s more like a WTF moment, like, I’m still here because I love you? Oh shit that’s true! This strikes Pitch as reckless behavior and he doesn’t say he loves Pitchiner until much later. He’s very lucky that Pitchiner is more perceptive than he gives him credit for and recognizes the signs of Pitch’s growing love.

6. Who would they ask if they ever had a threesome?

NDU doesn’t always have a Sandy, but I don’t think there’s any harm in putting one in one of Pitch’s creative writing classes who embodies “it’s always the quiet ones” and has a wit that runs around Pitch’s in circles. This infuriates Pitch, but in a confused way, as unlike his brother, Sandy is not trying to be a better writer than him, in particular. He just is. That’s how Pitch feels, anyway. He’s not at the point where he can understand that art doesn’t need to be ranked. Anyway so this Sandy decides to respond to antagonism with flirting, and it’s not as though Pitch thinks he doesn’t deserve to be flirted with, he’s got a hot boyfriend after all, and Sandy knows this…Sandy does know this, because he and Pitchiner are both in the honors program. And when Pitchiner meets Pitch after class one day Sandy is perfectly happy to flirt with both of them. The audacity in itself is appealing. So in this scenario it’s less them asking and more someone else asking them.

In another branch of the NDU story cluster I think they would ask Jack Sickle, not particularly to spite Piki even, but because Piki is being weird about sex with Jack and Pitchiner thinks that Jack should have his first experience of gay sex with less baggage attached to it. Pitch is not 100% sure that a threesome involving the twin of the man who’s obsessed with Jack counts as LESS baggage but sometimes in college you make decisions that seem obviously bad for reasons that aren’t really clear.

11. What do they hide from one another?

So, these things are kind of all the starting point state for my NDU boys. They wouldn’t remain static if I actually did write the version of the big long NDU story I have in my head.

On the mundane side, Pitch hides almost everything he can about his childhood with Piki, because while they weren’t perfectly harmonious siblings, they still had a pretty strong bond and their relationship didn’t start to turn sour until about high school. Pitch isn’t sure how to explain how it all happened to himself, much less anyone else, so he does what he can to avoid questions. He also tends to hide his family dynamics from everyone in general, because he’s from a money-poisoned environment and the more people know about him, the more likely someone’s going to say, “you know that was/is fucked up, right?” and he does NOT have time to think about that right now. He also hides the fact that he occasionally has idiopathic seizures, because that would mean he’s weak or something. However this last thing was revealed to Pitchiner very dramatically and resulted in a lot more panic than it needed to, because of the surprise.

Pitchiner, on the other hand, habitually hides any worries and fears he has about anything. He shoves all that down and tries to change all that energy into things that could be possible solutions. Not feeling strong enough? Never tell anyone, just work out more! Worried that you can’t take care of your loved ones? Learn how to cook! Worried that you really are just a meathead and that you’re wasting your scholarship? Study more! But alone! So no one will know! Pitchiner also hides from himself and anybody else the fact that he’s thought about and is aware of the way his size/strength can be intimidating/scary and not just a hunk/himbo trait. He’s deeply worried that he’s an inherently dangerous person, and so he tries to act like he’s just too dumb to have thought about it…but he has, and he’s wondered if this aspect of himself is a tool he can, should, or would use in different aspects of his life.

On the non-mundane side, both Pitch and Pitchiner hide the fact that they’re having weird, possibly supernatural visions/encounters with terrifying entities that they nevertheless seem to have some kind of deep kinship with.

12. What first changes when it starts getting serious?

Pitch falls asleep around Pitchiner. Pitchiner starts paying a lot closer attention to what he can or cannot casually needle Pitch about.

13. When do they realise they should get together?

Well, at first Pitch is like, Pitchiner won’t worry about me, that’s GREAT. And Pitchiner is like, Pitch doesn’t have any expectations of me, that’s GREAT. So they first get together because they think they won’t care about each other…which is incorrect.

14. When one has a cold, what does the other do?

When Pitch has a cold, Pitchiner has got the somewhat homemade chicken soup ready! He’s got the tissues! The immune-system-boosting vitamins (hey, he may be in the honors program but he still can’t perfectly detect bullshit)! He’s got a huge bottle of water with times marked on it for Pitch to drink all of! Which is good, because otherwise Pitch would just wrap himself in a quilt, take swigs of nyquil at random times, and sleep until he either died or felt better. When Pitchiner has a cold, Pitch is the one who reminds him (none too gently, though) to stay in and fully recover. He will also bring canned soup and huge water bottles upon request. Not the vitamins though, they smell weird. He will argue with Pitchiner to take actual cold medicine and usually succeeds.

18. When they fight, how do they make up?

The glib answer to this is sex, and that works for their arguments and spats over minor things, but when a major issue comes up it’s different. They fought over Pitch keeping his seizures a secret, for example, and it seemed like they’d never be able to resolve that, though they both knew they didn’t want to break up. So…they tried to bring in someone neutral as a moderator. Fortunately or unfortunately, the only person who was around was Proto. Who said some insightful things and some bizarre things and soon enough both Pitch and Pitchiner wanted him out of the conversation. And then they were just like, “Are we breaking up? No? All right, let’s try to forget the whole thing.” Actual apologies and vulnerability are a few years away.

21. Where do they get nervous about going with one another?

Pitchiner is nervous about going to see his family with Pitch, because he’s worried that someone’s going to be like, “hey, he’s pretty bad for you, you know that, right?” and he can’t fully explain their connection and he doesn’t want to have to. Pitch is nervous about going to see his family with Pitchiner because he knows they’ll look down on him and won’t believe that Pitch could actually care about him as more than just a body, which will force Pitch to admit to himself how much Pitchiner means to him and it’s a whole mess (for Pitch, mentally).

22. Where does their first kiss happen?

Pitchiner goes for a cheeky, casual kiss after they have lunch together one day in the school’s main dining hall, like it could be a Bugs-Bunnyish joke unless…But then Pitch is like, what? How dare you? And yanks Pitchiner down by his t-shirt for a much deeper kiss that leaves both of them kind of flustered as they have to hurry off to their next classes.

24. Where do they first have sex?

Pitch’s dorm room. He’s got a single, he knows he’s planning to be discreet, and he’s very clear that he’s making a booty call to Pitchiner.

25. Why do they fight?

On a serious level, they fight because they try to keep so much from each other, but their relationship develops enough that they things they try to hide eventually come to light. And then both of them get mad because it’s like “we could have worked this out sooner!” but unfortunately it doesn’t work out that way. They fight because they care about each other but are squirrelly about deserving care/being cared for.

On a less serious level, they squabble because they can. Pitch is zero percent scared of Pitchiner, and Pitchiner doesn’t expect Pitch to be emotionally controlled at all times and he doesn’t compare him to his brother. Having a raised-voices argument about bananas or Stephen King or whatever is freeing.

26. Why do they need to have a serious chat?

Because the evidence that supernatural stuff is real and taking an interest in them and a few other people close to them is accumulating and talking probably won’t solve that but it might help them get through it all alive.

27. Why do their friends get annoyed with them?

Over the top public displays of affection and stupid loud fights about things like bananas or Stephen King

28. Why do they get jealous?

Pitch gets jealous of the way Pitchiner seems so comfortable taking up space. Pitchiner gets jealous of how quick Pitch’s wit can be, especially in arguments.

29. Why do they fall a little bit more in love?

Pitch falls a little bit more in love with Pitchiner for what seem like contradictory reasons. As they’re together in their years of young adulthood, Pitchiner learns the skill of pausing before reacting, how to be more effectively compassionate, etc., and Pitch learns to accept that Pitchiner really does love him for him. But as Pitchiner is getting more mature in this way, he’s also gaining confidence in being implacable/unstoppable when he deems it necessary. Like the fact that Pitchiner is able and willing to intimidate people is maybe a red flag, but it also lights him up like nothing else. Pitchiner falls a little bit more in love with Pitch as Pitch learns to appreciate the things he himself can do, and care less about what Piki says or does. He also falls a little bit more in love with Pitch as he becomes more and more refined and precise in how manipulating or cruel he can be. Again, not good, but sometimes it’s just impressive, you know? But AFTER this point…they both get a chance to see each other respond to being offered power that very very few people are ever offered, and see each other recognize the strings attached, and recognize that they cannot deal with this on their own. And they come out of this without losing themselves, and without becoming truly monstrous, either. And that inspires more love than skillfully being terrible.

30. Why does it work (or not work) between them?

It works out between them partly because of the horrifying supernatural stuff they’ve both experienced. These experiences are something they share with Proto, Piki, and Jack, but as far as they know, no one else. To have a long-term partner that doesn’t have that kind of supernatural heaviness in their past is, at least subconsciously, totally unworkable to both Pitch and Pitchiner.

But it’s not just the supernatural shared experience. They do like each other, they do love each other, and, most importantly, they’ve seen each other grow and change over their years at college. Sometimes it was for the worse! Eventually it was for the better. Now, in the kind of overarching story I would create, at the end of college Pitch and Pitchiner might break up because of the weird events they went through and now feel like those are something they want to be done with and put behind them, plus a worry that being around the others will cause more of it to happen. But they can’t lose contact completely, and let’s say Proto eventually arranges for them to randomly meet again. And basically it’s like—“You loved me when I was terrible. So I know I can be myself around you, and it can be okay even if I fuck up while trying to go through life while being less terrible.”

[sincerelymarinette]

A Recorded Life (37/50) - Miraculous Ladybug

Words: 1402 Chapter Summary: Following the recent events,  Marinette's comment section has ideas, and it's time for another Miraculous meeting. Marinette and Adrien finally have a talk. Author's Note: time to tie up some loose ends ;) the end is a lil awkward, but perfect for mari and adrien.

ALSO OMG I WAS SENT FAN ART BY @xiaomao-ai-wo for chapter 11 when they did the impromptu q&a!! Check it out HERE because I love it SO MUCH and it’s amazing. I literally screamed when I saw it. Thank you so muchhhveiuvbeufa

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Spell It Out

---

Oh my gosh, a series of you and Adrien trying jobs would be amazing. I love seeing you guys work together and the adventures would be AMAZING! Think of the ideas!!

at this point, they should just call the channel Marinette and Adrien

I love Mari and Adrien so much you guys should just get married

I miss Alya :'(

Omg yes please do Adrien vs jobs. I wanna see him try to record a song with jagged stone or be a reporter with Alya or learn to play guitar in a band I want it ALL

we all know Adrien is great at fencing but what other sports is he good at #adrienvsjobs play on a professional soccer (I guess it's football for y'all though) team

I would say you guys should make another channel just for the Adrienette situations but then all your subs here wouldn't get to see all the beautiful content. please don't make a separate channel because it all works so well here

omg #AdrienVSJobs is trending on twitter mari

It was. People loved the idea of seeing Adrien "trying to find a job," and were giving thousands of suggestions. It was something they would definitely have to get on to make it happen. But that would have to happen later, Adrien and Marinette had already invited the rest of the team over for a meeting. They needed to tell them what they know.

Marinette pulled up the video on her computer as the group sat in a circle in her room. "So, Adrien and I found something," Marinette sighed. "This is the video I took the day his father kicked me out, and we just looked at it for the first time yesterday."

She played the section of the video for them a few times to get them to catch what they saw. "What was that?" Alya gasped. "Don't tell me it is what I think it is."

"No, I think you're right," Nino agreed.

"Are you kidding me?" Chloé groaned when she realized as well. "So, are we sending an ambush?"

"No," Adrien shook his head. "We need to be one-hundred percent sure. In about a week and a half, Marinette and I are attending the gala my father is hosting. We'll mingle for a while, and sneak away when we have the chance. We're going to double and triple check before we do anything," He explained. "But, you guys should be on call."

Chloé scoffed. "I'm not allowed to go to the gala, but I'll be around."

"I can try to get a press pass," Alya said, "But no promises."

Nino shrugged. "I won't be able to get in, but I'll be ready."

"Good," Marinette said and shut her computer. "We all need to be ready for the worst. I don't want Gabriel to be Hawkmoth, but if he is, then he's dangerous," Marinette said.

"Adrien," Chloé called his attention. "How are you holding up?"

Adrien shrugged. He hasn't said much during this meeting because he didn't want to freak out like he did yesterday. He had thoughts going in his head non-stop, and he was kind of confused about the whole situation. "I don't know. Plagg and I talked a bit yesterday after Mari, and I talked, but it's still a lot to think about," Adrien admitted.

Speaking of the Kwamis, they were unusually very quiet. They were sitting on Marinette's desk, watching their owners talk about the video. They were silent, knowing how important and stressful this was for them. "Well," Marinette said. "We really just wanted to update you guys on what's going on. The Akuma's have been harder lately, and I appreciate everyone fighting in this fight. We will beat Hawkmoth, if he's Gabriel or not."

Adrien nodded. "Yes, we'll take him down and bring Paris back to normal," Adrien added.

"Pound it?" Marinette smirked and stuck her fist out.

The rest of the team chuckled and mimicked her actions. "Pound it."

---

Later that day, after the group went their separate ways, Alya was on the way to an interview. As she was walking, she called Marinette...mostly to yell at her.

Marinette, on the other hand, was beginning the design of her dress. She had it sketched out and was almost really to start cutting and sewing. But that didn't stop Alya from lecturing her.

"You need to talk to Adrien," She said to Marinette. "And before you say it, it will never be a good time. You just need to get it over with- he's not going to stop being friends with you, and I'm sure he's been thinking about it, too. Probably just too nervous to talk about it," Alya reasoned.

Marinette groaned. "I know, but I'm nervous, too," She said.

"I know, girl," Alya said. "But maybe this is the push you guys need. You tried to tell Adrien for two years about your crush, and it never worked. Now that you guys are friends and partners, it will probably be a lot easier. Plus, think about how happy the girls will be when they find out you finally made a move!" Alya joked.

The call was silent for a moment while Marinette thought about her argument. Finally, she gave in. "Fine, I'll talk to him when he gets back. He went to the store to get some snacks, and then we're going to start talking about the new Adrien vs. Jobs videos we want to do," She explained. "But I promise we'll talk tonight."

"Good," Alya said, and Marinette could hear her smile through the phone. "Well, I just made it to the place where I'm doing the interview, so I expect an update later."

"Of course," Marinette giggled. "I'll talk to you later."

As if on cue, there was a knock at Marinette's trap door with Adrien peering in right after. "I got the goods!" He said as he entered her room, a big smile on his face. Marinette was sat at her desk, so Adrien set all the stuff on the chaise as he sat next to it. "So, what are we thinking for Adrien vs. Jobs?" He asked.

Marinette shrugged and grabbed her notebook. "I got a lot of tweets and comments about it. People really want to see you work the register in the bakery, make a song with Jagged Stone, and have you learn the guitar. There's also a lot of people who want to see you play soccer," She said. "But I think the easiest one will be either the register or the guitar," Marinette read off.

"Honestly, I'd be excited to do any of those," Adrien said. "But maybe the register and bakery one will be the best way to feel out the waters," He nodded.

Marinette circled it on her page and set the notebook back on her desk. "Right, I'll talk to my parents about it," She said. "Can...can we talk?" She asked, much quieter.

"Of course?" Adrien said, but it came out more like a question.

With a deep breath, she knew there was no going back. "So, you remember the Akuma Copy?" She asked, and Adrien nodded in response. "And do you remember what happened...after I captured the Akuma? After you were hit?"

Adrien thought for a moment; then his eyes went wide when he realized what Marinette was hinting at. "Yes... Is something wrong?" He asked.

"No! Not at all," Marinette shook her head. "Alya saw it, so other people probably saw it. And, Adrien," Marinette took another pause. "I don't know about you, but I've loved becoming closer friends and being partners these past few years, and I'd be lying if I said I didn't enjoy the kiss," She rambled a bit, trailing off at the end.

Adrien stared at Marinette, and slowly a smile crept onto his face. "No, I one-hundred percent agree."

"Are you really going to make me spell it out?"  She groaned.

Adrien knew what he was doing, and he was going to continue to play dumb. "Spell what out, my lady?"

"Ugh," She huffed. "Adrien, do you want to go out?"

Adrien stood up. "I would be honored," He said with a bow.

"But!" Marinette cut him off. "We probably shouldn't let it be too public. You know, for safety reasons."

Adrien walked closer to Marinette. "Whatever you wish," He said, and kissed her on the cheek.

---

@lady-of-the-roses-and-lilies @bookishserendipity03 @avatheexceed @gkz10 @coccinellegirl @kat-thatoneweirdo @strawberryblondish @snow-swordswoman @lilgaga98 @evufries

[sillyfudgemonkeys]

while i think OBJECTIVELY, okumura’s arc was the absolute worst, i also agree that kaneshiro’s was a close second. honestly, for me personally, kaneshiro’s is worst because of my personal hatred of makoto and the fact that the bank arc is never criticized elsewhere (usually praised for the music, makoto’s awakening, and the dungeon of all things) in comparison to okumura’s arc which is universally hated (both in story and dungeon)

I dunno if it can be objectively tbh, writing wise that is (it’s hard to say something subjective is objective in general, nothing against you just....I’ve been grappling with this myself tbh). I do think if there was a measure to something being objectively bad writing wise.......I’d ask these questions (like I’ve said, I’ve been thinking a bit on this for awhile kfdjaslfa;): Is it consistent?, Does it contradict?, Does it make sense? .....first two can be grouped together tbh (and tbh P5 is littered with all three regardless lfkdjsakf;) But yeah I do know I’m hella biased against Makoto (tho it’s because of how dungeon 3 played out that caused me to hate her) so like there’s that. 8U

Anyway time to make an argument as to why the fandom should adopt Kane as the worst arc, under cut:

Dungeon design I won’t defend it, it’s a slog (tbh anything after Mada goes on for waaaaay to long, needs more substance if they’re gonna make us slog through the dungeon for that long, gimme some cutscenes damnit), it really hurts my eyes (I love blue, tbh deserts are my worst enemy with games, cause they hurt my eyes the  most, but they did something with Oku), and I know people HATE the air lock puzzles (I love them aklfdjska;jfa they aren’t that bad tbh, you just kinda go forward). The puzzles are the only reason I don’t mind it kfldjsafj;akjf;

Ngl whenever I think of Oku’s arc writing wise I’m just...”yadda yadda bs fight, yadda yadda go into dungeon meet Haru/Mona, yadda yadda won’t make up, yadda yadda Anne found Haru, yadda yadda having a nice talk with Haru, MAKOTO CHASES HARU AWAY, yadda yadda Haru tries to run us over (did Mona tell her or did she do it on her own, this would be INTERESTING TO EXPLORE ATLUS!), yadda yadda mona got kicked, Haru in trouble, say we will help Haru, go in dungeon, Haru now full Persona, slog through dungeon, Oku’s been doing stuff people have already told us he is doing! :O SHOCKER! slog through dungeon, slog, slog, Oku fight, he bad, Oku dead, Haru says how her dad was poor. Done. 

Is it a boring ass slog where Haru gets sidelined for a dumb fight, a fight that should’ve been written better? Yeah. Now is it consistent/does it contradict? Fore the most part yeah.....I think......There are some questions raised about Goro and the Metaverse (and how Futaba is a shit Navi *cough* good job detecting him when you guys dragged him in >.>....ngl makes me think she......she’d lose to Rise/Fuuka in terms of locating, aka I don’t think locating people is Futaba’s strong suit). But everything else? Yeah, Ryu’s/Mona fight started with Futaba having a moment on the beach and built from there. Only thing really jank is I think it’s Yusuke/Anne who flip flop on thoughts on Oku (I remember this point more from the P5 crit video tbh). And PQ2 lies about why they went after Oku iirc (or there was more to what was going on and yeah....oversimplified it), but that’s PQ2. And they seem to be surprised by what’s happening to the Robots.....despite.....knowing he’s like that..... Does it make sense? Stupidly bt yes, it’s not fun and boring but yeah. Tbh I really need to refresh myself with Oku’s dungeon (I ought to pick Royal back up sakldjfa;jfl blame the move and Smite tbh), because it’s just......bare......and simple....and dumb....and shallow....and boring. (if you have something to add I’d love to hear it, I really need to refresh myself on it cause....Kane’s is just....so much worse imo). 

Ok so low key, surprised people even like the dungeon’s design. Is it cause it’s a bank? Cause it’s kinda bland, doesn’t help Kane’s the least developed antagonist in the entire game (you’d think they counterbalance not seeing him irl with the Shadow but nope). It’s just grey walls and piggy banks. Not really a puzzle (or what is one is easy/can easily have the solution looked up so it’s not really testing the player). I don’t really care for the music (I only think Sae’s and Royal’s is worth listening to iirc, but I also don’t care for P5′s music in general.....). If you like Makoto I can see you liking this dungeon (other than the music) but that’s it. I still don’t get what’s so great about her awakening. She summoned her Persona and hit enemies with it? Great. Is it cause it’s a bike? Or cause she hit enemies with it? I mean I guess if you like the bike (y’all know I hate the thing ksladjf;a so many issues and I think it looks boring/ugly tbh). I swear to god tho, if it’s because she stops her foot.....Anne literally broke out of steel/iron (?) shackles, disarmed a shadow, jumped several feet into the air while swinging a heavy ass steal(?) sword. Anne’s showcased Persona user’s strength, Makoto’s gonna need to raise the bar A LOT higher than “I stomped my foot cause I was angry and then I beat shadows with my persona-I’m special. uwu” :/ (ngl was disenchanted with Yusuke/Mako(and Futaba I guess)’s awakening, Anne’s showcased power, MC showcased blood/brutality, Ryu’s showcased the pain, Futaba’s was just P4 so nothing special, Haru’s only stood out after all that because of how hammy it was, but Yusuke/Mako/Futaba I didn’t care for cause it was stuff I already seen and wasn’t anything new). 

....anyway...onto my three questions for dungeon 3.....Is it consistent/does it contradict? .......so like.....the better question....is when doesn’t it contradict? Anne’s character? We’re gonna act like it’s more her fault so we can make Makoto look better for when we force her on the team, doesn’t matter that we’ve been showing/stating that Anne didn’t know about Kamo’s abuse towards Shiho because of the miscommunication she was having, we’re gonna make it so that she should feel guilty for not having helped Shiho....even tho she WAS helping her just for a different issue. Iirc Mona states something about having Mako be the key, and then the NEXT GOD DAMN SCENE Mako’s acts like it was her idea:

Hi key had a freaking shit fit when I saw this. What do you mean you had this thought? How many people wrote these scenes without communicating with each other???? Mona had the idea??????? Which is why we even brought you along in the first place????? The hell????? It just doesn’t feel connected at all???? 

The game acts like she’s so smart suddenly, and even takes shit that she didn’t even come up with. Acts like she can def be level headed when she LITERALLY JUST RAN INTO A MAFIA DEN CAUSE SHE WAS TINY BIT STRESSED! Claims she has all these adults on her ass, when it’s just one (who backs down when she says no...AND IT WORKS), and the other who is just trying so hard to be a parent and a sister (who they keep wishy washy so we can like her later cause see she’s not all bad! uwu poor Sae ;w;). Acts like her arc is about adults telling her what to do and getting in her way and probably the reason she didn’t help with Kamo....EVEN THO SHE SAYS SHE DIDN’T DO ANYTHING CAUSE SHE DIDN’T CARE! And while it’s contradicted in retrospect, iirc it’s in her CoOp where she’s like “being a prim and proper prez won’t help me here” (or at least claiming she was one) when like/????? no she did illegal shit this entire arc, which fkldjsaf;jskjsfadf FREAKING LAUGHABLE she is after us when she is 1) stalking, 2) taking illegal recordings, 3) taking illegal photos, 4) harassing us in general like????? you’re the criminal Makoto (tbh her, Futaba, and Goro are the real criminals of the PT skldfjajf the only illegal shit happens cause of them). 

Then there’s the plan scene:

Makoto: What’s your guy’s plan? Ryu/Yuske/whoever: We kinda just go in and look around? Makoto: oh you don’t have a plan? well good thing I’m here! Me: What’s your plan Makoto? Makoto: We’re gonna go in and look around! Me:  (ノಠ益ಠ)ノ彡┻━┻

Pre Mako: We worked together to come up with a plan to attempt to sneak the treasure out! Post Mako: You don’t plan????? Good thing Mako’s here! We’re not going to attempt to steal the treasure by sneaking it out, instead we’re just gonna walk in there.....that’s it, no plan, and when there is one it’s gonna suck ass realistically but we’re gonna make it work through the power of ~plot convenience~! Me:  (ノಥ,_｣ಥ)ノ彡┻━┻

Mona: Oh Makoto called to apologize for getting your number via Leblanc. She must be ok! Me: Mona she threatened my livelihood, has been stalking me for weeks, wants me to go after a dangerous criminal that could risk my life AND livelihood otherwise she’ll just destroy my livelihood, wouldn’t help with our investigation one gd bit, chased away my one gd lead.....and..Do....do you think....she’s....”not bad?” Is that where your standards lie?

Game: You just need to change the person’s cognition and ya golden! Me: Well Kane said we are his customers, can we get in without Mako? Game: Nope! Me: Why? Game: We just need her in the plot is all. Me: But we COULD go without her. Game: 

Me: ????? BUT YOU WROTE THOSE RULES AND SAID THAT THEY WERE KANE’S CUSTOMERS?????!!!

Me: So Makoto can ride her Persona....that kinda shows they can all touch their Personas. Game: .......... Me: Why didn’t they try riding their Personas up to Kane in the first place?  Game: .......only Arsene has wings..... Me: I’m sorry but as Pennywise would say, “They all float down here.”  Game: 

PT: Man we sure do need a target! I wonder if there are any good leads Me: We literally just heard a rumor on the train this morning about a mob boss- PT: Man sure is sad we have no knew leads. u_u Me: I swear to god, I’m this close......I’m THIS close..... 

On a non Makoto related BS thing the game does this dungeon: PT: We need to go after bad guys! Me: What about going after the ones the police are going after! PT: No because they’ll take the credit. Me: Woooooooooooooooooooooooooooooow this says so much about your character, I thought it didn’t matter unless we were helping other’s? Did I just get teleported to the 5th dungeon for a sec? What’s with this BULLSHIT?  I get you need popularity for Mementos but first and foremost was helping people right? I’m not just bullshitting myself right???? So you mean to tell me, before it actually even went to your head, you already cared about popularity over helping people in general? Holy shit. You know, I give Junpei a lot of shit, but at least he and Yosuke have the integrity to keep doing what they need to do and not deciding not to do their damn job because people aren’t noticing them. You guys are horrible heroes. 

So yeah it’s not just Mako (or because of Mako, but most of it is because of Mako) that messes up the team/writing, even when she’s not related we get lovely pieces like that. It’s inconsistent and contradictory (Futaba is just as bad, it’s just aimed a lore elements that can easily be missed, rather than character/plot writing like Mako’s arc is). Lemme tell you, I’m literally having a shit fit every 2 seconds (btw I can go on about a 2 hour rant with probs each line like that’s how much I get tilted with this dungeon and it’s BS, lying straight to my face they think they can well I’ll just scream into the void! >XO) with both Mako/Futaba, but esp Mako. Oku’s might have a few contradictions or inconsistencies, but nowhere NEAR as many as Mako’s does. 

So now it begs the question.....does it make sense? No. Absolutely not. With that many inconsistencies/contradictions......how can it? Hell the premise makes no gd sense even knowing Humpty Dumpty is with the evil organization. Using her would make no sense, hell he has like a few suspects he could EASILY make a list without even asking around school (both Volleyball teams+track team+Ryuji+MC+Anne because he admitted to all that on stage next to the guy!) Hell it makes no sense why he’s part of the conspiracy when like......his position seems to do nothing for them. It’s just there for bullshit reasons, and to make Mako be put into a bullshit situation, it’d make more sense to hire Goro than ask a normal high school student to play detective (even tho Goro is probs the other one who provided a list, the hell are they asking the principal when they already used Goro?????) Hell, Kane targeting Syujin kids makes no sense, esp when their uniform is very recognizable! 1) They are already in the news for controversy (so unneeded attention), and 2) they’re connected to a fellow conspiracy member, why would you knowingly want to screw him over???? It just makes the conspiracy look dumber than they already look. 

Then there’s also the fact chars act dumber, either to make Mako look smarter, or to make it so she can join the team later. The whole arc smells of plot contrivance AND plot convenience. Literally bending over backwards to justify her joining when....the game accidentally wrote almost every way she didn’t need to join. 1) Found out about Kane before her, 2) Found his name without her help, 3) could use Personas to fly up to his dungeon if they tried it, 4) if for some stupid reason they couldn’t, they’d just make one of them a customer (hell probs just need to “join a scheme” like the other high school kids with the lackeys rather than run into his den himself, Kane seems to keep track of everyone) The game just doesn’t need her, but it realizes that and has to inconvenience itself and twist itself around to try to justify her. 

And this is probably only scratching the surface cause....it’s late.....but this is what I remember off the top of my head at 5 am. 

Like Oku’s is bad, but Kane’s is abysmal (oh, and at least with Oku we kinda KNOW why he’s crazy about power, Kane is more vague, which isn’t good for an already underdeveloped char). I don’t know why the fandom signed off on Oku being the worst when Kane’s around. Or even that “the game gets better when Futaba joins” (it doesn’t, the game was on a decline since Kamo’s dungeon, Futaba was just an apparent uptick from Mako, mostly cause it lacks the character/story assassination that Mako’s had) when the freaking way they handle mental illness should be a big red flag for everyone (the lore stuff? def will go over newbies heads, I get not everyone is a lore whore like me but c’mon, some stuff does make you question it tho even when you only look at P5). 

But yeah I think Kane’s has more writing issues than Oku’s does. Oku’s writing is bland, with one of the worst dungeons, but Kane has the worst writing and a very bland dungeon when you just....look at it.Kane does get shit, but I don’t know why Oku gets more shit, I get gameplay wise the dungeon can be frustrating, but my god......the writing in Kane is......just horrible all around.  

[m00nslippers]

just because the batboys dont see themselves as siblings all the time doesnt mean they don't all have the same (adopted) father. at any one point in time, at least 2 of the boys have considered each other brothers

Just because you have a piece of paper that says something, that doesn’t mean the feelings are automatic. A document that claims them as ‘siblings’ doesn’t automatically give them a sibling bond, you have to earn that with actual sibling interaction, and until very recently in the canon, Jason did not have that with any of the other Robins. Jason also outright said he was ‘no one’s son’ in Under The Red Hood so at the time he pretty much rejected Bruce as his father, even if the history and feelings were still there. So calling them brothers in any capacity until very recently is just a technicality as far as I’m concerned. But for some people that’s a big important technicality so, okay let’s dissect this argument.

I think it’s a little silly that I actually have to discuss this, but let me ask you the question, ‘why is incest wrong?’  because actual incest is definitely wrong in my opinion but there are real reasons for why it’s wrong, and I’ll tell you why. It’s not just because a religious text or two said so. I like to think we’re beyond blindly following ancient texts to designate who is allowed to have a relationship with who. As far as I see it, there’s two main reasons why incest is bad:

1. Genetic issues with children. Basically if you’re blood-related and you have a kid, that kid has a substantial likelihood to develop a genetic disease just because of how gene inheritance and expression works. Incest relationships that produce children are bad for the gene pool and humanity as a species. Inbreeding is how we got dog breeds that can’t survive giving birth naturally or have a 90% chance of having spine issues and early deaths. It’s objectively bad.

2. Potential for abuse and difficulty in identifying abuse. Basically when you are raised together in the way siblings are, especially with one being older and in a position of power over the younger, there is a huge potential for the elder sibling especially to manipulate or abuse the other, possibly without even realizing what they are doing. Siblings are already supposed to and most likely will care for and love each other, and especially if you are young it would be difficult to tell if any romantic love between the two is because both parties want it or because one feels as if they have to, to maintain the sibling relationship or please the other whom they care about. It just gets really muddy, and difficult to navigate, and it’s hard to tell if the feelings are real or gas-lighting on someone’s end, so at least until both people are adults, it’s really just a situation that should be avoided to make sure everyone stays and feels safe. Avoiding a situation that has a high possibility of abuse is objectively a good thing. 

If you can think of another reason incest is wrong besides “yuck! I don’t want to think of my sibling like that!” then I’m all ears. But that being said, do any of these things apply to the batboys?

Well 1 is a non-issue because they aren’t blood-related and it’s mlm so they aren’t in a child-baring relationship. 2 could be an issue with DickDami or Dick Tim since they do have a decent amount of sibling-like interaction, but if the relationship happens when they are both adults I think it pretty much avoids the problems of number 2. But in the case of JayDick or JayTim is think it is a complete non-issue because they don’t have any relationship at all when growing up and they are all pretty much adults anyways by the time they meet again.

So as far as I can see it, the issues of incest are completely irrelevant to most batcest relationships. Can you wave around a piece of paper that says they are adoptive siblings and therefor their relationship is unlawful in a couple of states in the USA? Yeah, I guess you can, but that’s more a ‘follow the letter of the law rather than the spirit’, type issue. Culture/tradition in the past has said that a lot of things were wrong that if you looked at it objectively you’d see there wasn’t really a logical reason behind it. For a long time relationships between the same sex were seen as wrong but when it comes down to it most of the ‘reasons’ boiled down to “It’s different from what I’m used to so I don’t like it, also some religious person told me it was wrong” (By the way, I’m not against religion here, just against blindly following it and ignoring logic/reality and how certain practices can hurt people.)

Now since we are on the subject, let me just plug something that actually colors my feelings on this issue. When I was pretty young I used to watch a show called House M.D. and there is a particular episode of this show that relates to this subject and really kind of stuck with me when I watched it.

for those who don’t know, House M.D. was a very interesting show where a cynical asshole genius doctor and his crew of put-upon other genius doctors would solve medical mysteries ins a sort of Sherlock Holmes manner (the similarities between the name House and Holmes was intentional on the show’s part). A patient would come into their hospital with a complaint or sickness that no one else could figure out, they would dramatically spiral toward death as the crew clamored to figure out the cause and eventually House, being a genius, would diagnose the patient at the last second as save the day–but he was still a jerk so he was never happy.

In one particular episode, the wife in a young couple came into the ER. She was black and her husband was white, they’d run away and eloped, and been disowned by their families because they were a mixed race couple. But they didn’t care because they were deeply in love and had been there for each other since they were teens because they lived right next door to each other. So she is really sick with something and of course everyone scrambles to figure out what the problem is to save her and the whole time her husband is there for her and being loving and wonderful, refusing to leave her side.

Because that’s how this show works, there is a dramatic reveal that isn’t really relevant that is actually some genetic issue or something. But since their relationship was such a focal point of their situation, House had gleaned enough information about them to realize a disturbing truth–the loving husband and wife who were each other’s only support had been half-siblings all along and didn’t even realize it. The man’s father had an affair with the girl’s mother and they’d both hid it. It hadn’t been obvious because on the surface level they appeared to be different races, but they both had a rare color of green eyes. Their parents weren’t against the couple because it was interracial, but because it was incestuous, but hadn’t told either of them. The husband had to be tested for the same genetic issue as the wife and both were devastated at this realization. We don’t see what the couple decide to do, whether they break off their relationship or continue it. But either way, their feelings were real, their husband and wife relationship was real, and being genetically siblings didn’t change that. Neither of them did anything wrong, they just didn’t grow up as siblings, didn’t realize they were supposed to see each other as siblings.

Now, look. I know this is a fictional story, but it illustrates something that is true to life–sibling relationships are something you have to build. They aren’t automatic, they aren’t genetic, they don’t just happen as soon as you have a piece of paper that says you are siblings. And romantic relationships are something that occur between people who are compatible, regardless of technicalities in law or culture that those involved may or may not be aware of at the time. Judging people or relationships and having expectations about people and relationships based on arbitrary rules and technicalities like ‘technically they are brothers because Bruce adopted Jason and then later he adopted Tim after Jason was dead’  is dumb. It’s meaningless. It really just has no bearing on anything. In most states it’s not even illegal because making an issue of it is based on arbitrary, archaic rules. If someone can give me a solid reason why JayDick or JayTim is wrong or bad, then maybe I’ll change my opinion, (but I still wouldn’t be against people writing it because even messed up and really unhealthy relationships can be weirdly cathartic or interesting to read/write and also do happen in real life–PEOPLE CAN WRITE WHAT THEY WANT EVEN IF ITS ‘WRONG’ THEY DON’T HAVE TO JUSTIFY IT TO YOU OR MEET SOME MEASURING STICK OF MORALITY) but personally I just don’t see why it’s a problem for anyone.

[worldofblade]

Head Assassin, Between-the-Chapters:  Tae Ch 4

We are back with our favorite Scorch-Hybrid.

BTS Fanfic:  1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | (T-1) | (T-2) | 5 | 6 | (T-3) | 7 | (T-4) |

Warnings:  Dark, forced kiss, non-con topics, violence/blood, somewhat sexy times, Dark!Tae, Dark!Jimin.

Rating:  R

Beta:  @blerdygirlwrites

A/N:  Remember this is a “spin-off” of sorts from the main plotline, but you do need to read everything to fully understand what is going on.  Hope you like this next chapter.  I am also thinking about showing a bit of Yoongi’s home life....Hmmm....??  Would love to hear feedback.  Thanks for reading.

***

“Alright, the first thing you need to understand, is that this is your life now.  Accept it.  Nothing you do can change it, so learn to deal with it.”  Eunseo stood across from the Song women, trying not to laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation.  Here she was, in a posh sitting room giving a hard knock lesson to two noble women.  They were in designer clothes, while she was in Taehyung’s t-shirt and sweats.  The borrowed clothes swamped her, but they were still better than her other option, the skimpy gold dress that the women had first met her in.

Eunseo had jerked awake that morning with Taehyung softly calling her name.  Before she was even fully aware, Tae had kissed her forehead, telling her that the stuff from her old apartment was on the way and that he would be home in the afternoon.  He then smoothed the hair out of Hong-Do’s face, and then walked out the door.  

Now, she and the Song women were having their little “meeting” while Taehyung was away.  Eunseo would have liked to have at least been in her own clothes when she met with the noble women, but when she had snuck down the stairs to scavenge breakfast for her and her son; she had come face to face with the women who wanted to capitalize on Taehyung being gone.  To Ga-Yoon and her mother’s credit, they didn’t bat an eye at her clothes, and had some servants bring food to the sitting room for all of them.

“Kim Taehyung is a Scorch-Hybrid.” Eunseo continued, glancing out the window where she could see Hong-Do and a servant playing in the garden that faced the sitting room.

“What does that actually mean?”  Ga-Yoon’s mother asked.

“That means that he was bred by the Noble Houses and the Old Regime to be a psychotic mass killing weapon.” She brought her focus back on the women, and could tell that they were uncomfortable with how blunt she was being. “I’m not going to sugar coat things, so if you want me to stop, now is the time to tell me.”

“No…we…we need to know.” Ga-Yoon said, sitting taller in her chair.  Both women were pale, but also held determined looks on their faces.

“Scorches are extremely territorial, aggressive, and lethal.  Tae could kill us all with his bare hands in seconds.” Eunseo went on, after hearing that the other women were willing to learn.  “He doesn’t have any moral code, except what he has decided for himself.  Which means he can be highly unpredictable and somewhat unstable.  Most never know exactly where they stand with a Scorch. They despise anything that could be seen as challenging their authority, which is why there are so few male servants in this house.”

“Which is why he…killed everyone when he came… I mean the men anyway.” Ga-Yoon’s whispered statement made Eunseo’s heart break a little, but she didn’t let it show.  They all had to become immune to these types of things if they were going to survive.

“Exactly.” Eunseo said, trying to ignore the haunted look on both the noble women’s faces.  “Taehyung got rid of anything he felt was a threat, and replaced everything with people that would be in his control.”

“Which means, he doesn’t think we are a threat.” Ga-Yoon’s mother spoke again.  A knowing look in her eyes.

“Correct.” Eunseo threw a smile at the older woman.  “Which is a very, very good thing for all of us. Instead of a threat, we are all now part of his territory.  He sees us as something that belongs to him; and even though it doesn’t sound like something to be proud of, for us it is a wonderful thing.  Why?  Because if we belong to him, he will keep us looked after and safe.”

“As long as we do exactly what he wants.” Ga-Yoon said, anger seeping into her voice.

“True.” Eunseo answered, nodding her head.  “Our safety rides on the ability to keep Taehyung happy, but he is actually a lot easier to navigate than you think.”

“He wants a family.” Giving her daughter’s hand a reassuring squeeze, the older woman again looked at Eunseo.

“Yes.” Eunseo smiled, happy that the noble woman was picking up on things.  Moving away from the windows, she sat on a plush chair facing the women.  “He wants people who are happy to see him when he gets home.  Wants to be asked how his day was, and to be told to wash up because dinner is going to be soon.  He wants the type of family that is only ever seen in ancient movies.”

“So, if we do this, we will be safe?” Ga-Yoon asked, disbelief in her eyes.

“Not totally, no.” Eunseo said, dreading where she had to go next.  “Scorches need to have two main things to keep them happy.  Sex and blood.”  Forcing herself to overlook the other women’s bright red faces, Eunseo took a deep breath and continued on.  “I’m here to take care of the sex, but he needs to kill things; and we need to be ok with him coming home covered in blood.  We need to ask no questions, and expect no answers.”

The two women gasped. Clutching at each other; their eyes turning glassy.

“That being said,” Eunseo hurried to continue, hoping the other two wouldn’t faint.  “Taehyung seems willing to not bring that part of his personality home.  So even though it’s something you should be aware of, he might be unwilling to sully where his family resides.  So, we might be very lucky and never see the blood.”  Eunseo felt bad that she had to take it this far, but the truth was the truth. She still had nightmares about being tossed into Taehyung’s room after he had come back to the center from a killing spree; blood everywhere.  She shook her head a bit to dispel bad memories.

“So, we need to focus on making him think we are a family?” Ga-Yoon’s mother finally broke the silence; wanting to get back onto somewhat safer topics.

“No,” Eunseo shook her head, giving both women a sad smile.  “Not think we are a family.  We have to truly become his family.  Taehyung is not dumb.  I am sure he knows that whatever pleasantries you’ve given him have been forced and fake. That will only keep him happy for so long.  He needs to feel our complete acceptance of what he is and what he does.  That is the only way it will work.”

“But he’s a monster!” Ga-Yoon yelled, jumping out of her chair to pace back and forth.  “You’re saying that we have to accept—“

“Yes!” Eunseo interrupted Ga-Yoon’s coming rant, walked over and taking the younger woman’s hand into her own.  “The only way we will survive and have even a smidgeon of happiness for ourselves is if we learn to love the monster that is Kim Taehyung.”  Leading Ga-Yoon back to the chairs, Eunseo also took a hold of the older woman’s hand.  “It’s better to be beloved of the devil than to be in his war path.”

The three women gripped each other’s hands and shared sad smiles, until the door opened and a servant announced that the boxes from Eunseo’s old apartment had arrived.

“Why don’t I text Lieutenant…I mean Taehyung and see what he would like for lunch.” Ga-Yoon’s mother stood tall, wiping at slightly damp eyes.  “You did say he would be back in the afternoon, yes?”

Before she knew what she was doing, Eunseo embraced the older woman.  Seeing her accept and try to follow through with the plan made Eunseo truly feel that they were going to be a team.  The noble woman went absolutely still, before slowly bringing her own arms around Eunseo.

“I think that is a wonderful idea.  Taehyung would like that, I’m sure.” Eunseo said, pulling away from the woman with a soft smile.

~~~

“I don’t like the cloths you brought from your old apartment.”  Taehyung glared at the open door of the massive walk in closet that held both of their cloths; then without waiting for any reply stalked to the bathroom and slammed the door.  The sound of the shower turning on coming through the door a few seconds after.

Eunseo sighed, and then sat at the edge of the king size bed that was in the middle of the room that she would be sharing with Tae from now on.  He had been pleasantly surprised when he had come home for lunch, and everyone greeted him with smiles.  Eunseo knew that he especially liked that she and Hong-Do had given him a hug; but his mood seemed to steadily worsen from there.  Every time Taehyung came across something else that had been delivered from Eunseo’s old apartment, he became moody and petulant.  The worst being when they had put Hong-Do to bed together, and the boy had immediately cuddled an old brown bear and not the new stuffed animal that Tae had brought home.  Eunseo knew that she was very close to having to deal with a Scorch-Tantrum.  Taking a deep breath, she started mentally preparing for what she was about to do.  It was time to take on Kim Taehyung.

~~~

 Taehyung turned from toweling his hair dry, when the bathroom door opened, and something came flying across the room; hitting the small garbage can which toppled to the ground.  It took him a moment to figure out that some of Eunseo’s cloths were on top of the overturned can.

“You know, I’m not sure I like any of my old cloths either.  I guess you are going to have to buy me new ones.”

Taehyung turned toward Eunseo’s voice and then stopped dead.  She leaned on the door frame, a smug look on her face and not a stich of clothing on her body.  The towel fell from his hand, forgotten as his eyes wandered over the body that was his again. Even after having a child, her breasts were pert.  Her hips and thighs were a bit thicker than he remembered, but that just made his lust kick up a notch.  He had always thought that the center kept the girls too thin.

“Get on the counter.” Taehyung growled out his order.

“No.” Eunseo turned on her heel and was out the door before Taehyung could even react to her refusal.

“What did you say to me?” Taehyung caught up to her, grasping her arm, he swung her around to face him.  “You don’t get to say no!”  Tangling his hand in Eunseo’s hair, he forced her head back and covered her mouth in a bruising kiss.  It was a kiss to prove dominance.  It wasn’t meant to be soft.

“I said no!” Eunseo gasped, doing her best to evade his overpowering kiss.  Managing to get an arm free, she raked her nails down one of Taehyung’s cheeks.  Drawing blood.

“Fuck!” Taehyung released her, more from surprise than actual pain.  Bringing a hand up to his cheek, he came away with blood on his fingers. “You scratched me!”

“Oh please,” Eunseo backed away giving him an eye-roll.  “Your fancy genes will heal you in no time.  Get over it.”

Eunseo knew that she was teetering on the edge right now.  Things could get bad quick, but she wasn’t going to back down.  Not now.  She wasn’t in the center anymore.

“I’m not a fuck-girl anymore Tae.” Eunseo watched as Taehyung’s red-rimmed eyes turned back to brown.  She knew that he was listening.  “I no longer have to jump when you call.  I, too, get a say on how our sex life goes down.”

“So, this was just a power play?” Taehyung’s eyes again started to turn red, and he took a step towards Eunseo.

“Nope.  It was the new truth of how we are going to live.” Eunseo also took a step towards Taehyung, which the hybrid was not expecting. Brief confusion crossed his face, and he stopped; giving her time to close the gap.  Going onto her toes, she tangled her hands into the back of his hair; pulling his head to one side, she bit Taehyung above his collar bone before letting her tongue sooth the site.

“Fuck…” They way Taehyung said it this time, was more of a soft purr.  Eunseo could also feel his cock twitch under the towel that was still wrapped around his waist.

Sliding back down his body, making sure her breasts were pressed against him the whole time.  She smirked at his aroused state.

“If you are a very good boy, maybe I will let you bite me too.” Eunseo stepped back, and eyed Tae.  “Lose the towel, and get on the bed.”

Taehyung’s eyes flicked back and forth from red to gold.  Letting Eunseo know that he was warring within himself.  Finally, his eyes remained gold denoting that he was full on lust mode.  Letting the towel drop to the floor, Tae threw his own smirk her way, when he heard her quick intake of breath and saw her own eyes darken with lust as she ran them over his body.

“Like what you see?” He asked, situating himself on the bed.

“You always have been and will be the sexiest hybrid alive.” Eunseo said, giving him a saucy wink. Climbing on the bed, she straddled Taehyung and allowed him to grab her ass with both of his hands.

“It can’t always be like this.” Taehyung whispered, pulling her closer to his body.  “You know I have to have it rough.  Have to be in charge.”

“I know what you need, baby.” Eunseo steadied herself on his shoulders, leaning in she tilted her head and kissed the cheek that still had a bit of blood on it from her scratch. Meeting his gaze again, she saw his eyes zero in on the blood that was on her lips.  She felt his dick harden even more under her.  “When I said I was no longer a fuck-girl.  I meant that we would give and receive equally.  So, right now you are going to be my very good boy.” She ground down, causing him to moan.  “Later, I can be your very bad girl who needs to be punished.”

 ~~~

“I… I was hoping to find some time to speak to you about going back to school, now that they are opening back up.” Ga-Yoon’s voice only stuttered a little bit, as she leaned closer to Taehyung and passed some paperwork his way.

Eunseo was proud to see that Ga-Yoon was finally able to look at Taehyung’s face when speaking to him. It had been a month since the women under Taehyung’s rule had decided that they were going to become the family he needed.  It was slow going, but both noble women had stopped calling him by his title, and had even teased him when he pouted after loosing at cards.  Things were still stiff and formal at times, but all in all things were on track.

Ga-Yoon had brought up that she had been in college for fashion design before the war, and that she missed it terribly.  Eunseo had told her that this was the prefect thing to bring up to Taehyung.  Not only to have something to talk about, but to also let him feel that he is able to provide something for her.

“Wow, Fashion design!” Eunseo slid onto the armrest of the chair Taehyung was sitting on, causing him to wrap his arm around her waist to steady her as she looked down at the paperwork in his hand.  “Maybe you could be the next big must-have brand that all the celebrities have to wear!”

“That’s the dream.” Ga-Yoon’s face turned pink, giving Eunseo a shy smile.

“I don’t see why you can’t re-enroll and get back into the swing of things.” Taehyung said, still reading the paper in his hand.  “As long as you have your bodyguard with you at all times; and your tracker is always turned on.”

“Oh, thank you!” Ga-Yoon jumped out of her chair, a huge smile on her face.  “I’m going to go let mother know!  Thank you, Taehyung!”

Taehyung’s own face lit up as he watched Ga-Yoon fly out the door to find her mother.  She never seemed to want anything, and only politely thanked him when he would bring home presents.  Now he finally knew what she wanted in life; and he was proud that he was the one who could give it to her.

“You old softy.” Eunseo teased, brushing Taehyungs bangs out of his eyes; bringing him out of his thoughts. “You’re probably Ga-Yoon’s favorite person right now.”  

Taehyung, came to his feet, bringing Eunseo off the armrest with him.  Throwing the paperwork onto the coffee table, he wrapped his arms around her waist, and pulled her into a hug.

“What about you?  Am I your favorite person too?” Taehyung asked, kissing the top of her head as he rubbed circles into her lower back.

“Are you fishing for compliments, Kim Taehyung?” Eunseo pulled back, giving him a flirty smile.

“Maybe.” Taehyung brought his lips close to Eunseo’s; before she pulled out of his loose grasp when the sitting room door opened.

“Sorry to interrupt.” Jimin called, as he entered the room, not caring in the least that Taehyung was glaring at him.  “Yoongi has been trying to get a hold of you.  Why aren’t you answering your phone?”

“Shit.” Taehyung mumbled, patting his pockets.  “I must have left it in the bedroom.  What does he want?”

“No idea.” Jimin said as he sat down in the chair Taehyung had just vacated.  “I’ll wait here while you talk to him in case we need to go somewhere together.”

Taehyung left the room, leaving Eunseo alone with Jimin.  Something she always tried to avoid.

“I’ll go see if Taehyung needs help finding his phone.” Eunseo said, trying to get to the door as fast as she could.  Jimin was faster.

“So how goes the whole, one big happy family scam?” Jimin leaned against the door, effectively cutting off Eunseo’s escape.

“I don’t know what you mean.” Eunseo took a step away from Jimin, but was stopped by Jimin’s hand around her upper arm.

“I mean,” Jimin said, pulling Eunseo closer to his own body.  “have you gotten tired of playing the part that Yoongi cooked up for you yet?”

“Now I’m really lost.” Eunseo yanked her arm out of his hold, and took a few steps away from Jimin, knowing that the only reason she could was because the Anchor allowed her to do so.  “Yoongi? I’ve not seen Commander Min since I approached him to help me find Taehyung, so I am really not sure what you are asking?”

“Enough!” Jimin advanced towards Eunseo, his eyes briefly flashing red, which let her know how truly upset he was.  Anchors rarely let their emotions show, so Eunseo started feeling a bit worried that he was doing so now.  “You and I both know that you would never put yourself into a hybrid’s hands willingly.  Especially Tae!” Grabbing her again, he swung around, and pushed her against the door, caging her in with his arms.

“Move away from me!” Eunseo pushed at his chest, but Jimin didn’t budge an inch.

“Tell me the truth!” Jimin’s eyes again flashed red.

“I wanted to find Taehyung so that Hong-Do and I could have his protection and so he could finally know his son!” Eunseo said, forcing herself to look directly into Jimin’s eyes, hoping he couldn’t hear how fast her heartbeat was at that moment.

“Lies.” Jimin whispered, moving his arms so that one hand gripped her waist, as the other started to stroke her cheek.  “You never wanted to be Tae’s woman.”

“No!” Eunseo jerked her cheek out of his hand, anger replacing her fear.  “It was you who I never wanted to be with, not Tae!”

Jimin brought both hands up and slammed them into the door on either side of Eunseo’s head.  His eyes fully red now.

“I would be careful what I say, if I were you!” Jimin growled out.

“It would take me screaming once for Taehyung to come busting in the door.” Eunseo said, forcing herself to remain calm.

Jimin’s eyes slowly turned back to brown, as he started getting a hold of his temper.  He knew what Eunseo said was true, and had no wish to fight Tae at this time.  Pulling her away from the door, Jimin yanked it open; not caring that Eunseo fell to the floor.

“Tell Taehyung that I’m waiting for him in my car when he gets off the phone with Yoongi.” Jimin threw over his shoulder at Eunseo as he walked out of the room.

Pushing herself up off the ground, Eunseo quickly shoved the door closed and leaned against it, trying to get her breathing under control.  She hated Park Jimin, and wished she could tell Taehyung what he was really like; but the truth was that Tae needed Jimin as his Anchor.  Most times it was Jimin who was able to stop blood baths from happening.  She had been in the center when they tried to match Taehyung up with an appropriate Anchor. None of them could reign him in, except Jimin.  What Eunseo had always wondered, though, was just who would be able to reign Jimin in if he truly let his demon out?

[disgruntledkittenface]

hey hi hello I updated the girl direction fic rec link you can find on my blog on desktop. perfect formatting eludes me, but this list of my personal faves is now to up to date! I’m also going to link under a read more. enjoy <3

Updated January 2, 2019

Her Love On My Lips (1k)

Harry and Louis take a late night drive. And Louis makes a confession.

another lovesick afternoon (2k)

a coffee shop au where harry pines and can't say no to a dare

Too Great a Temptation (2k)

Harry and Louis attend a fancy dress ball.

brighter than the sun (2k)

Louis meets Harry at a flea market.

that time of the month (3k)

Harry and Louis both reach for the last box of tampons at the store.

makes me wanna be all yours (3k)

Harry meets Louis when she visits her best friend Niall, who's away at university

Our Own Little French Club (3k)

It's a simple movie night. Or is it? Louis invites herself over to watch a movie with Harry, and the question of whether or not it's a date waits for an answer.

A Prank Or Two (Let Me End Up With You) (3k)

Hogwarts AU where Louis loves pulling pranks and ends up in detention with a fifth-year Ravenclaw, who does look kind of cute though.

the wheel breaks the butterfly (4k)

AU. harry and louis are roommates. girls' night ends a little differently than usual.

All’s Fair in Love and Laundry (4k)

Harry has run out of clothes to wear. So she puts on the hideous nightgown Gemma got her for Christmas and prays no one sees her as she makes a mad dash to the laundry room to fix her clothing situation. Of course, the universe hates her (or maybe loves her) because in walks the most beautiful girl Harry has ever seen. Banter and teasing ensue and maybe a bit of romance too. And maybe, just maybe, that ugly nightgown wasn't such a bad thing after all.

Quiet Afternoon Crush / Violent Overnight Rush (4k)

Louis and Harry are models, flat mates and Halloween costume connoisseurs. They’re also best friends who occasionally fuck. It’s not a big deal though.

the summertime and the butterflies (4k)

Louis works at a charity shop, Harry’s the hot hipster-ish girl who buys all her clothes there.

It’s A Long Way Down (4k)

There’s a loud rumble, along with the sound of something shattering below the hood. Louis has just enough time to swerve her car to the emergency lane before it comes to a standstill and they’re stranded on a road. Very public car sex ensues.

all down your shoulders and back (5k)

Louis has known Harry for three years now, and she's had plenty of practice avoiding thoughts like that, for her own sake and everyone else's. If she ever slips up, it’s because she’s drunk, or high, or Harry’s just threatened to cut off her hair. (Non AU. Harry and Louis are cisgirls. Everything else is more or less the same.)

Lay Down, Decide Me (5k)

She sends off a last text reading, "I just really want Lou to pull my hair while I eat her out. Is that too much to ask," before burrowing herself under the blankets. When her phone dings with a reply, she's expecting Zayn to complain about overshare, but instead what she gets is, "be there in 10." From Louis. Which. Oh fuck.

Lips Won’t Let Me Go (5k)

This is it. This is the highlight of Louis' life. She hooks her chin on Harry's shoulder, and then says ecstatically, "Driver? Roll up the partition please." Or, Harry and Louis are celebrity girlfriends who fuck in limos.

Ridiculous (5k)

The first time they meet, Harry’s got her tits out and Louis inhales hairspray. The events might be related.

Take All of Me (5k)

“So, my rut’s coming early,” Harry says, straight to the point because she’s had all day to dwell on this and worries are starting to cloud her thoughts. “Like, the doctor gave me these new suppressants for my asthma, and she said it’s coming early and there’s no way your heat won’t trigger it.” Or, Harry and Louis' rut/heat cycles sync up for the first time.

Bittersweet, Irrepressible (5k)

In which Harry's been in love with Louis all semester but can't tell the difference between platonic and romantic interactions, leading to pining and confusion and at least one date.

You’re Here, Where You Should Be (5k)

three years after having last seen her best friend, Louis shows up at the Christmas party Harry's family throws every year. Old feelings might not be as buried as Harry had thought.

Just Say the Word (5k)

Five times Harry watches Lou from across the bar and one time she actually makes a move.

Genderswap AU series (6k)

Part 1: Harry figures out how to make herself come and shows Louis.  

Part 2: they go from putting on eyeliner to sex.

As Time Goes By (6k)

Louis found herself enthralled with the way Harry talked; kind of hesitant and drawn out, like she wasn’t really expecting to be heard. Louis wondered who in Harry’s life talked over her or tried to make her stop in the middle of a story. That would be a shame, because Louis was loving their conversation. There was something about the way that Harry’s mouth formed the words, and the rasp of her voice. Louis hated talking on the phone as a rule, but she imagined she could listen to Harry talk for hours. She wanted to curl up next to her on the couch and listen to Harry talk about anything and everything.

Wow. Louis needed to get a grip. They hadn’t even opened the wine yet, and Louis was already fantasizing about cuddling Harry.

the pressure’s rising (i won’t make it through the night) (7k)

harry goes out. the night ends unexpectedly when she meets louis.

Dream About That Casual Touch (7k)

Louis and Harry fuck up two dates before they finally get it right.

Rush Crush (7k)

Stumbling through the entryway was a slender girl with dark chocolate curls. Louis picked her out of the crowd immediately seeing as how she was the only one who wasn’t wearing something overly feminine. No, this one was dressed in black skinny jeans that accentuated the obscene length of her legs. Her black Chelsea boots were shiny, softly reflecting the glow from the hanging chandelier. Louis’ eyed trailed back up and noticed the faint trace of ink showing through the girl’s white t-shirt.

In the Heat of the Night (7k)

“You’re sleeping with me, obviously,” Harry says then, pausing to regard Louis with a funny expression, nose wrinkled and brows drawn tight. “Don’t tell me you thought that I’d let you freeze out here!? Absolutely not! C’mon, the bedroom’s cozy, I dragged a space heater out.” Louis wants to protest about as badly as she wants to sleep next to Harry Styles, which is a lot. Too much. --- Or, Louis is the only butch in London with a truck and Harry needs to move a couch.

bright lights (she’s fading) (8k)

Harry and Louis are psychology students in uni. Their professor is a bit of a fuckwit who makes it seem like kink discussion in a classroom is completely normal. It gets a bit out of hand.

Who Run the World? (Girls!) (8k)

A femslash take on the beginning of Relief Next To Me, complete with girl!Direction, lots of tongue action, and lots of hints to the original work.

lonely in a crowded space (8k)

Harry runs a coffee shop and Louis is half-famous. They meet again years after a turbulent past.

Riding Comfortable (8k)

Harry is the 19-year-old intern, Louis is the 25-year-old CEO, and they fuck in the office a lot.

Always Enjoy the Taste (9k)

the Starbucks AU where Harry writes a pick-up line on Louis' cup every day

From Now Until Forever (9k)

The girls go to Britney Nite and Louis wears Juicy track pants and Harry is not ok.

Make The Yuletide Gay (9k)

A Christmas In Connecticut AU in which Louis is a mommy blogger, Harry is a pop star, and nobody's really what they seem. Featuring a lot of lying, tons of domesticity, some badly faked heterosexuality, and a few Christmas kisses.

Clap your hands (if you’re feeling gay) (10k)

Louis has had a shit year involving a shit break up. The last thing she wants when coming to Minehead is to meet someone new. She is 'getting away from it all' by going to work in a language school in one of the crappiest places imaginable. The chances of meeting anyone hot, let alone anyone hot and into girls, are nil. So why is she so obsessed with the hot, tall, curl haired girl who happens to be her boss? Why does she fall head over converse heels just as soon as she steps foot in the centre? Those are questions that Louis refuses to even acknowledge, let alone answer. That is until her curly haired boss asks to kiss her, and she has to confront them all.

Lumiere, Darling (11k)

She’s so gone it’s not even funny. It really isn’t funny because falling in love with your best friend is such a stupid, idiotic, dumb thing to do, and there’s only ever a happy ending in romantic comedies. Louis (she claims, loudly and publicly whenever anyone will listen despite the fact that she’ll watch them with Harry any time Harry asks her to) hates romantic comedies. The thing is, when it really comes down to it, Louis never stood a chance.

Wild at Heart Ain’t Hard to Find (11k)

Louis and her best friends Niall and Liam always take an annual vacation together. This year Niall has picked Redwater Canyon, a small tourist town where everyone lives like it's the Old West. There are saloons, stagecoaches, and limited access to WiFi. The town boasts tours, excursions, activities, and the hottest woman Louis has ever seen in the form of the local blacksmith.

bambi legs (11k)

Harry works at her family’s fabric store sometimes and always sells the most interesting fabrics to Louis. Louis is the wannabe fashion designer who keeps buying fabric she doesn’t necessarily need just to find a way to talk to Harry.

my heart is untamed, still (12k)

the one where Harry pines and Louis' mean, but it's not so fun when the tables are turned.

Crystal Ball on the Table (12k)

Harry Styles is just an ordinary witch from an old-fashioned Boston family trying to survive in her regular job as the fiction manager at a local bookstore and café. Her magic isn't exactly something she advertises when looking for potential new girlfriends, so when Louis Tomlinson arrives in her life like a breath of fresh air, she tries her best to hide how strongly her magic is reacting to Louis' presence.

sink into tomorrow (13k)

Harry is the new (supposedly heterosexual) freshman who gets convinced by pretty blue eyes and soft skin to join a club about body positivity and self-image. Louis is the definitely-not-male upperclassman who makes her come to terms with some things she's been denying.

long way from the playground (14k)

Louis should really get over being in love with her best friend. Harry doesn't help by acting less than platonic.

just a touch of your love (15k)

The only thing standing in the way of Harry and Louis getting together are...well, Harry and Louis.

Blush (15k)

the Christmas FxF Larry fic in which Louis is 99.5% sure she's straight and Harry likes to walk around shirtless and watch lesbian films

i found my place, i see your face (15k)

Harry and Louis hate each other but they’re forced to be in the vicinity of each other because they’re friends with the same people. They’re also forced to work together for a Christmas concert and end up falling in love, which obviously surprises no one.

Love You a Latte (16k)

Louis Tomlinson doesn’t drink coffee and definitely doesn’t go to Starbucks. Enter barista Harry Styles. Add a double shot of espresso, stir in 90s references to taste, and top with whipped cream and love. Or, the coffee shop AU featuring girl direction, creative espresso, and a professor and a barista falling in love in one beautiful autumn.

and we live like legends now (16k)

harry works at a juice bar, and louis is the cute girl that skates at the park right next door.

Diamonds in the Moonlight (16k)

The 70s au where Harry is a rich girl stuck in the suburbs who thinks she loves Shaun Cassidy, and Louis is the skater who breaks into her backyard and changes everything forever.

strawberry things series (16k)

Part 1: It bubbles in her chest, dissolving in her lungs like sour salt on her tongue, it rises to her throat, transforming into an elated hum. Their heartbeats battle between their skin, and the feel of a pulse should not be as riveting as it is, but Louis finds herself yearning for it, stretching her neck, tensing her muscles in longing. And then Harry presses her lips sweetly to Louis', letting electricity tingle between their two lips. "You taste like strawberry margaritas," Louis whispers.

Part 2: the sequel about the morning after where harry and louis try to make breakfast, harry is quite literally hot and cold and sweet fluff ensues

daydreams are made of this series (19k)

Part 1: And now she’s here, on her way to seeing Louis again for the first time since that first night and it’s… she’s just a bit nervous is all.

Part 2: It’s been five days since Harry had Louis pushed up against the kitchen windowsill and they haven’t spoken a word since.

Part 3: Harry is the kind of girl who deserves to be taken out on sweet romantic dates and to be showered in compliments because she's never expecting them. And now she's with Louis. And Harry acts like she's the one that lucked out.

Daisy Chains series (20k)

Part 1: Ten minutes later, an awkward, long-legged, curly-haired, so pale she’s reflective, and so obviously gay-looking Harry Styles is sitting shotgun next to Louis in a bikini, denim cut-offs, and heart-framed sunnies. Or, Harry and Louis and a too-small bathing suit.

Part 2: Harry thinks it’s a fever-induced delirium, at first. After all, she’s been sick in bed for a full forty-eight hours following the Best and Most Important beach trip of her entire life because fate is a cruel and jealous bitch who doesn’t want Harry to go on a date with the girl of her dreams. or, Harry is sick and Louis comes to visit her.

back and forth (i kinda like it that way) (20k)

girl!direction where they all work at a magazine. Liam is the big boss, Zayn is her girlfriend and raises her eyebrows a lot. Louis is 24 and a sports journalist, and not equipped to deal with Harry, who's a gorgeous 21 year old intern, that will be leaving at the end of the summer - so it's not like she should get involved anyway, right?

scraping the skies with our finger tips (21k)

fem slash flower child/punk au no one asked for

Read Me Like a Book (21k)

The librarian AU featuring girl direction, Pride and Prejudice, a little Shakespeare, and a crash course in love.

Find Another One, Cause She Belongs To Me (25k)

Girl Direction Uni AU, where Louis is desperately in love with her best friend Harry, who might not be as straight as she thought, Ziam can't fool anyone, and Niall is just happy with football being her only relationship.

Bleeding Love (27k)

Louis is an animal rights activist who throws red paint at fur coat wearing it-girl Harry Styles. Then there's a crack in the surface and something new starts bleeding through.

Guilty Was The Book (28k)

Harry refuses to return her book to the library and Louis has no patience

tell them we’re like magnets (31k)

Louis and Harry are roommates and best mates who like to kiss when they're drunk. Louis doesn't want her feelings to ruin things, so she starts seeing someone else, but she still can't seem to stop kissing Harry. uni au where girl direction/little mix live together and get wasted a lot and make questionable choices.

Gently As She Goes (33k)

A modern fairytale (literally!) featuring a quest to bring a lost girl home, celtic goddesses, braiding, friendship, true love, and magic.

that good girl faith (and a tight little skirt) (43k)

“What the fuck did you do to my shampoo?” Harry shouts, brandishing the offending bottle like it’s a vial of poison. “Is this fucking mud? Did you honestly replace my shampoo with mud?” “Not just your shampoo,” Louis says calmly, then cracks up when Harry visibly pales. Harry and Louis are camp counsellors. They hate each other. The amount of sex they have in the camp showers probably contradicts that.

If I Was Stronger (50k)

AU where Louis holds universes inside her, and Harry just wants to hold her.

I love your demons (like devils can) (60k)

Harry didn’t plan to join the football team. She didn’t plan to sleep with the captain of the football team. She definitely didn’t plan to sleep with the closeted captain of the football team, who promptly acted as if nothing happened and left Harry a pathetic, pining mess.

Shades of Pink (Crazy in Love) series (259k)

A 17/25 age difference story (light D/s)