#luckily the person who the entire series is a “fuck you” letter towards is no longer in my life!

[wolfeyedwitch]

Open letter to my FBI agent:

Im fine. It's just research.

[bwbatta]

six - confessions

Abstract: Draco and you are just friends so doing him a favour and pretending to be his girlfriend wouldn’t effect your friendship right?

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x reader

Warnings: Swearing, slight angst

Word count: 2960

A/N: I’ve been waiting for this one, turn it upp! ...I won’t lie, i’ve been putting off writing this purely because I don’t want to stop writing this. Anyway, the final part is finally here and I’m so happy to be sharing it with you all! 

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Part 5

Draco signed his name quickly and looked back at the letter he’d written. It was simple enough to get his point across, yet the repercussions from sending this could be huge. 

The blonde heir was adamant though. If this is what it took, then he would gladly accept whatever consequences came his way. He could figure it out, he always did. 

Taking a breath in to help stabilise his thoughts and nerves, he quickly put his quill down before he wrote anything else that wasn’t needed. Reading it through once more, he made sure his words were enough for now. 

Father,

I apologise for not responding sooner to your previous letter, I was at a loss for a while as to what to write.

I understand our family values and as much as I uphold them for our family’s benefit, my relationship or any of my relationships are my choice. Whilst she is not pureblood, she is not muggleborn either and both of her parents have magic, which is why I ask you to at the very least consider giving Y/N a chance.

With respect, I will not determine my relationship on your opinions, especially since you haven’t met her.

You understand there aren’t many things I would go against you on, but this is something I feel particularly strongly about. 

Regards, 

Draco

Nodding his head, he quickly folded the letter and attached it to his family’s owl. With a screech, the bird took off. 

All Draco could do now was wait.

“Please?! You’re the best person at charms that I know, you would be my favourite person on earth?!”

“Blaise-”

“Y/N please, Flitwick might push for me to be kicked out of Hogwarts if I don’t pass this test”

You snorted unattractively as you walked down the corridor, arms riddled with books. On your way to the Herbology greenhouses for your afternoon lesson, you were blitzed by Blaise who had been trying to convince you for the last five minutes to help him write his essay which was due in a couple days time. 

Blaise and you had nearly made it into the greenhouses when Professor Sprout stopped him at the door.

“You’re not in my class today Mr Zabini, I suggest you get heading towards your own class before you’re late.”

The elder witch gave him a stern look to which he smiled at, trying to lower her strict exterior. 

“I just need to talk to Y/N about something really important really quickly, Professor. It’ll only take a minute?”

“No” she rolled her eyes at the boy, “you can do that in your own time.”

“But, Professor-”

“No buts Zabini-”

“Alright Blaise, I’ll do it” you finally caved, seeing as the boy would most likely be reduced to ash from Sprout’s harsh stare otherwise. 

“Astronomy tower, 8pm?”

“Wait-”

“Okay bye!”

Without another word he turned and rushed off back inside the castle, heading to whatever his next lesson was, leaving you partially annoyed, partially awkward at the look Sprout was now sending you.

“Inside” she cocked her head towards the doorway and with a defeated look you headed into the greenhouse. 

You hadn’t been back to the Astronomy tower, despite classes, since that fight between Draco and you and you weren’t too keen on returning. Blaise however, had given you no choice in the matter as you probably wouldn’t see him until that time you’d agreed to meet. This meant you’d have to suck up your anxieties about the tower and get over yourself. 

If only it were that easy.

Your free period was rather quiet today you reckoned but you couldn’t put your finger on why it was so quiet? 

The twins weren’t around and neither were Harry and Ron, yet that was normal since you were studying in the library with Hermione. Though Hermione didn’t really talk much when you two studied, something still felt off.

Not to mention the other thing which was bothering you was how Blaise acted earlier? He was normally the most relaxed person you knew, but his earlier rushed and fretted actions also seemed wrong.

You snorted at the thought in your head; imagine if he was trying to set you back up with Draco at the astronomy tower later?!

Another sigh left your lips as you continued to try and figure out what else felt off. Hermione’s eyes darted from the essay she was writing to you sat opposite her. 

“Is there something bothering you?”

You met her stare awkwardly and shrugged slightly. 

“I don’t know, does something feel off to you?”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s too quiet, you know? I can’t put my finger on what it is though.”

“Maybe it’s because that blonde tumour isn't attached to your side anymore?!” Hermione snorted as she turned back to her work, leaving you staring at her with an unreadable expression. 

Ignoring the remark of how the witch had described Draco, she was right in the way that he did used to surprise you while you were studying. 

Was that it? You were missing him being near you?

You hadn’t really spoken to the Malfoy, only small comments in class when you were next to each other but apart from that, he wasn’t constantly next to you anymore and that bothered you. 

You had to admit you did like fake dating Draco, but that was over, it was a joke, a favour, nothing more. So why the hell would you accept anything to go back to him annoying you, him being at your side constantly, or his arm around you 90% of the time?

Then you froze.

You knew exactly why.

Holy shit, you loved him. Like actually loved him. 

Slowly starting to freak yourself out, you sat back in your chair as your mind whirred around that fact. 

He’s Draco. 

He’s one of your best friends and now everything was so messed up because he’s Draco.

Stubborn, bratty, arrogant Draco.

Who likes Draco?!

And then it hits you again. You do, you really really do. 

Because he’s Draco.

Because he cares about you and would do anything for you. Just like you’d do anything for him. He might be stubborn, but so are you. He might be bratty and spoilt because of his parents, but he actively spoils you just because he can. And he might be arrogant to everyone else, but you know how humble he could be and acts around you. His reaction after you opened your Christmas present proved that enough. 

Holy shit. 

These feelings are going to ruin whatever’s between you, friendship or not, because how the hell could you keep this to yourself? How the hell could you not tell him you loved him?

The only thing was... you were the second person to ask yourself that today. 

Draco paced in the tower, a letter held tightly in his hand as he waited for you to show up. Guaranteed it wasn't 8pm yet, but he was still so anxious for when you did actually turn up. Were you going to turn up?

A lot of things had flown through his mind today, some putting him on edge as to whether his plan to get you back would work, yet nothing had made him as anxious as when the letter arrived from his father earlier that day.

It was slightly wrinkled now from how much he had fiddled with it in his hands and with a frown, Draco tucked it back into his pocket, forcing himself to take a long breath as he did so and run his hands nervously through his hair.

Not even a moment passed before he heard the door below slam shut and your footsteps approach. A brief flash of panic flew through his body like he’d been electrocuted, what if this was a bad idea? What if you didn’t want him like he wanted you and he would just look like a complete idiot?

All the thoughts in his head however vanished as soon as you reached the top step and your eyes locked on his. 

Neither of you said anything at first and the silence was almost deafening.

“Fucking Blaise,” you rolled your eyes at yourself. “Earlier I bet myself he’d do something like this.”

“It was actually my idea”

“...I see” 

“Surprised?” 

You snorted

“No.” You hid your grin at the look of offence present on his face, “I knew one of you would come up with something like this. I had my money on Blaise as he was the one I spoke to earlier. Despite how much you love being mysterious and complicated Draco, you’re like an open book to me.”

The wizard let out a snort, he had a feeling she would figure something was up. They really did know each other well.

The silence stilted in the air again and felt heavy despite the fresh air surrounding them. 

You looked down, avoiding the blue eyes that watched you. Despite being in love with him, you had no idea what to actually say to him. Luckily he took the lead.

“It was really stupid.”

You frowned, before you forced yourself to glance towards him, eyes catching on how he was looking at you.

“What was?”

“The fact we thought we could pretend and fake an entire relationship with no consequences.”

You didn’t say anything. 

“I mean let’s be honest,” Draco scoffed a laugh, “we really thought that everything would go back to how it was before? That was stupid. Also the fact that the whole ‘having a fake girlfriend’ thing wasn’t really working for me.”

He paused to assess your reaction for a moment before continuing on. 

“We were great as a fake couple, sure. We were also great at being friends, I mean... that was before I kissed you and fell in love with you.”

Your breath caught in your throat at the confession. A smile grew faintly on his face as he took in your reaction. After realising you weren’t going to bolt, he took a couple steps closer until he stood right before you, his toes almost touching your own. 

“This whole fake dating thing was so stupid in so many ways except for one; how it made me realise how much I genuinely want to be your boyfriend.”

Draco shrugged sightly like it was no big deal, but inside he had to remind his lungs to work.

Why hadn’t you said anything yet? Maybe because he can’t stop his mouth from talking? Should he stop talking? His mouth opened again before he could stop himself.

“I want you. I want us. But I want it for real, not some half-assed, pathetic excuse of relationship which is all just an act and makes us question where we stand with each other.” 

His voice lowered to a whisper but you heard him perfectly. 

“Draco... I want nothing more than to be with you.”

“You do?”

“Yes, but I can’t help the fact that I’m not a pureblood and your parents won’t accept me-”

“Wait, okay, hold on.”

Digging his hand into his pocket, he fished out the crumpled letter and attempted to flatten it out slightly. 

“I sent my father a letter in response the one you read the other day and I got this back earlier today. Just... just read it.”

He held the letter out at you with such a serious expression causing you to frown, you took it from him wondering what was in it. Opening the parchment, your eyes immediately flicked back to the blonde once more, only to find him watching your every movement.

“Draco,

I don’t believe you understand the seriousness of what you’re asking from your mother and I. You have a duty to this family to uphold and despite the notion that you wouldn’t disobey me with much, this is still a vital factor of those duties.

Nevertheless, you expressed your seriousness for this girl, coupled with your mother’s bickering about at least meeting her, I will give you one chance. We will meet her if she values the seriousness and significance of our values. If she does not however, then you will end whatever you have with her. 

You understand in the near future, things will change. You need to be as prepared as possible.

Regards,

Lucius Malfoy”

You read the letter once through, then twice, then once more. Your mind was in a flurry at the words, taking them in and the weight they held. Draco’s parents had agreed to give you a chance, however it came with a price and one you were in two minds about taking. 

On one hand, you could be with Draco and support him through whatever hell was coming your way, as long as you abided by their blood purity mania, which, if Harry was right, meant Voldemort. On the other hand, it meant not having the Malfoy boy in your life.

Your eyes finally left the words and flicked back up to meet Draco’s own. His expression was unreadable as he waited for your reaction.

“Well, that’s intense”

“You can’t really expect anything less from my father.”

“I gathered that.”

Your eyes landed on the elder Malfoy’s name once more and you bit your lip slightly. 

“I said once I would be willing to get mixed up in this for you, and I stand by it, Draco. I don’t know whatever's going to happen in the future but I know I want you by my side through it.”

“I can’t ask you to do that-“

“You’re not asking me, I’m telling you I want you and I’ll do whatever it takes to be at your side.”

“Y/N-”

“Draco, I love you, let me do this for you. I can play whoever your parents want me to be.”

Draco didn’t say anything more but stared at you with a half smile on his face. Your eyebrows knitted together as you caught sight of it, not really sure where the expression came from. Talking about faking your views on blood purity and Voldemort wasn’t really a cause for smiling.

“What?”

“Say it again?”

“Say what again?”

“You love me.”

You realised then. You’d told him you loved him in amidst all that but you hadn't even realised it. Well, that’s one way to admit it. 

“I love you,” you said with no hesitation as a smile grew on your own face. “I want you, for real. No fake relationship, just us.”

As quick as you’d finished speaking, Draco’s lips were on yours. It was chaotic, unscripted and messy, but it was real. 

Your hands slid to the back of his head, fingers burying themselves in his hair as his hands gripped your waist tightly, pressing you to him. He kissed you with such passion you swore your heart stopped for a split second.

How the hell had you both faked this for so long?!

Taking a break, he pulled away but rested his forehead on yours, not wanting too much distance. 

“If you’re all in Y/N, so am I. I’ll protect you with my life, you may’ve been my friend first, but you’re everything to me now.”

His lips pressed against yours again, much softer this time like he was trying to memorise and convince himself you were really there. That this was really happening.

“Draco Malfoy, I’m all in.”

You were surprised the next day for two reasons.

One; for how many people had actually bet on Draco’s and your relationship. George got his five galleons back from Fred again after the news reached them. He happily took the money from his brother before lifting his glass to you from across the hall in thanks. 

Both Crabbe and Goyle owed Blaise 10 galleons, though you supposed he had an unfair advantage, (not that you’d tell the duo). 

But the second thing which surprised you was the letter you received at lunch from the headmaster himself. 

Dumbledore had barely even looked in your direction, let alone spoken to you personally, so the note you got from him asking to meet him in his office later spiked your anxiety. 

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” Hermione shrugged before lowering her voice to a whisper. “It’s probably something to do with the DA or Umbridge.”

“Hermione, I didn’t even think he knew I existed, now he’s asking me to come have a chat?”

“Just go, you’ll never know otherwise and you’ll keep fretting.”

The rest of your day passed quickly and you found yourself before the headmaster’s office later that evening. Taking another quick look at the note in your hand, scribbled at the bottom was a comment about him liking sherbet lemons which stuck out to you.

“Sherbet lemons?”

The gargoyle surprised you by jumping out the way, opening up the staircase to you. Without another thought, you climbed the stairs and knocked on the wooden door. 

“Come in.”

Pushing the door open, Dumbledore turned to face you as you entered the room. With a smile, he greeted you and offered you the seat opposite him as he took his own.

Sitting, your knee started to bounce while your anxiety kicked in wondering what the hell was going on. 

“Y/N- can I call you Y/N? Relax, you’re not in any trouble at all, don’t worry.”

“Can I ask then, why am I here sir?”

“Well, I actually have a job for you if you’re interested? I understand you’re in a unique position where you’re willing to do anything possible to be with the young Mr Malfoy.”

You immediately frowned, how the hell did he know that?!

“What kind of job?”

“A job to join the Order of the Phoenix. I want you to act as a spy for me within Voldemort’s ranks.”

[luxekook]

chapter two.

⇥ pairing: namjoon x reader; eventual bts/ot7 x reader

⇥ genre: college au with fluff, smut & angst

⇥ summary: a series in which the reader meets (and falls for) seven members of the Beta Tau Sigma (BTS) fraternity

⇥ word count: 2.3k

⇥ warnings: 18+, cursing, chaotic namjoon, power tools, hints of poly relationships, overall pretty smut free (who AM i???)

© luxekook. please do not repost, modify, edit or translate.

characters | prologue | one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine

Chapter Two

Habitat for Humanity Worksite – 9:26am

When I signed up to volunteer Saturday morning of syllabus week, I should have known I would end up regretting it. I almost punted my alarm clock out of the apartment window this morning, but instead settled a slightly more civil action – punching the shit out of the ‘off’ button.

Don’t get me wrong: I love volunteering. It’s been part of my routine since sophomore year when I was recruited for the all-women’s service society on campus – the Alphites. As a society, us Alphites volunteer around campus and in our local community each week. There’s something about doing service together that really creates bonds, and the girls in the society have quickly become some of my closest friends.

We sign up to volunteer for a variety of different service projects each week, and Habitat is my current favorite project to sign up for. As a nonprofit organization, Habitat for Humanity helps families build and improve places to call home. Currently, our regional Habitat is working on building a house from the ground up for a local family in need.

Disclaimer: I am in no way, shape, or form a very ‘handy’ person. Luckily for me, there are always a couple volunteers with construction or engineering backgrounds who are willing to teach other volunteers with less experience – or none, like me.

Since beginning to volunteer at the site last year, I have learned how to use a power saw, how to fasten siding, and how to mix, pour and level cement. It’s definitely empowering to learn new skills and also to see how my handiwork contributes to someone’s future home. I also feel lowkey badass when I get to use the power drill for anything.

Pulling up to the worksite, I clutch my cherished 24oz. Wawa coffee. I finally feel somewhat human as I park my beat-up Jeep Wrangler and hop out to meet the other volunteers for our task assignments.

The site leader Eddie – a burly retiree with a background in construction management – greets me with a huge grin, “(y/n)-doll, we missed you this summer! I can’t believe you abandoned us during the hottest months of the year.”

I roll my eyes, smiling at his teasing. Eddie’s like a teddy bear disguised as a grizzly – all rough edges and a heart of gold. “Missed you, too, Eddie.”

“Look at our progress now,” he continues, “Pretty impressive, yeah?” Nodding, I greet some regular volunteers I recognize as Eddie leads me around the house. He proceeds to show me what they had done over the summer in my absence – and they had done a lot. The house now had its full foundation and wooden framing with most of the doors and windows installed.

As we walk back to the front of the house to the main area, I sip my coffee and turn to Eddie, “So, what can I work on today, fearless leader?”

Letting out a patented ‘Eddie belly-laugh’, he replies, “I know you worked on the siding at our last site so I'm gonna have you work on where we started the siding on the right side of the house.”

Sweet, I could work with that. “Aye, aye, captain,” I respond with a lazy salute of my coffee cup. Before I can turn to start towards the scaffolding to begin, Eddie stops me.

“Oh, one more thing. I’m gonna need you to orient our new volunteer and let him shadow you today. Kid’s from the same school as you, I think… Mandatory service. Anyway, he should be here any minute.”

Shit, I know what ‘mandatory service’ means. It’s the first form of disciplinary action that the college issues and is usually the only form of disciplinary action for our athletes or for Greek life – a fact I actively resent. During my time in the Alphites, I have had to deal with some of these ‘mandatory service’ characters and they’ve never been much fun to be around.

“Ah, that’s probably him now,” Eddie startles me out of my thoughts of dread and doom as a black gleaming Tesla practically purrs down the block, swinging into the spot next to my Wrangler. Scowling, I cross my arms as I survey the stark contrast between this person’s shiny-ass luxury car and my dirty-ass well-loved Jeep.

The Tesla door opens. A Timberland booted foot emerges followed by a thick leg encased in light jeans, a tanned well-muscled arm…

No. Nope, it couldn’t be— Please, not today, Satan.

He stands with his back to us now, stretching out his large body. In only a cutoff t-shirt, his rippling back muscles might be enough to send me into an early grave.

I sigh in bitter defeat of the inevitable. Seriously, the fucking universe must have it out for me because I can’t seem to shake this stupid fucking fraternity.

As if the boy feels my eyes on him, he turns. His eyes immediately clash with mine as he slams his car door, clicking the lock over his shoulder. Those eyes – golden brown beneath dark brows and a wave of bleached blonde hair. Their focus is absolute – hard – as he strolls towards us. It’s almost as if he knows the maddening effect that he has on me.

I think Eddie is speaking, but my senses are on lockdown, his words muted. My thighs tighten as my pulse picks up. Get a fucking grip, (y/n). I can’t let him know that just one look from him has me thirsty and oxygen-deprived. I can’t look away – that would be succumbing to weakness.

Instead, I hold his heated gaze as best I can as his confident gait brings him closer. God, he’s got to be at least 6 foot...

The goddamn president of BTS Kim Namjoon is getting closer and I can’t help running my eyes over him.

His thighs flex and shift beneath his jeans with every calculated step. His abs are apparent under his tight cutoff shirt emblazoned with his fraternity letters.

Namjoon stops in front of us, hands stuffed into his back pockets, biceps flexing. “Nice to finally meet you, Eddie,” Namjoon takes his eyes off me long enough to greet Eddie and shake his hand, but then they’re right back on me, “Hi, (y/n).”

He drags out my name in a such a sinful way that even old Eddie does a slight doubletake. Clearing his throat unnecessarily loudly, Eddie booms, “You two know each other?”

“No.”

“Yes.”

Our differing replies sound at the same time.

“Yes,” Namjoon repeats, lips turning up in an infuriating smile, “We have several mutual friends that she’s met a couple times now. Want me to jog your memory? I’d be more than happy to do so.”

Eddie takes one look at my face and hustles off, mumbling something about support beams. I guess my inner thoughts of ‘kill, maim, slaughter’ could easily be read from my facial expression.

Namjoon opens his mouth to speak again, but I’m faster, “Listen, Kim, I don’t know who you think you are, and, quite frankly, I don’t care. What I do care about is this house and these people working on it. Don’t fuck this up for me, okay? Let’s just get through today and then you can go back to ordering around your brothers and causing general mayhem.”

I’m feeling pretty proud of my little soliloquy until I realize he’s still smiling with those blasted dimples out in full display. No, his smile has grown even wider now as he simply answers, “The semester.”

My nose crinkles in confusion, “What?”

“The semester,” he repeats, “I’m assigned here every Saturday for the rest of the semester.”

I stare at him.

He smirks back.

I stare.

His smirk begins to fade, “Uh, did you hear me?”

I stare.

“Okay, you’re creeping me out now, (y/n),” Namjoon waves his giant paw of a hand in front of my face, “How many fingers?”

I break out of my trance of denial and hiss, “What did you do? Double homicide? Serial arson? Oh my god, you were the one who blew up the science lab!”

His hand covers my mouth – it’s rough and warm and entirely disarming.

“You have quite the imagination, jagi. I’ll keep that in mind,” Namjoon chuckles, “To answer your question, I did none of the above. Now, answer a couple questions of mine: what did you do to get here and – more importantly – why did you distract Jungkook from doing his fucking job on Monday?”

I glare in response, waiting for him to remove his hand from my mouth. He takes too long, and I lick his palm. It works. He removes his hand, but from the look on his face it seems like he liked my tongue on his skin entirely too much.

Thankfully, Eddie chooses the perfect moment to yell across the site, “What are you doing just standing there, (y/n)-doll? I don’t pay you to just loiter around all day!”

“You don’t pay me at all!” I yell back, already moving towards the trailer with all the supplies to get started. Namjoon follows.

“(y/n)-doll?” his eyebrows are raised as I hand him a pair of the biggest gloves I could find, “What’s up with that?”

Taking a pair of smaller gloves for myself, I turn to look for some hammers and nails as I respond, “I’ve been here a while. He’s like my honorary grandfather at this point.”

I spot the hammers and nails tucked away on the highest corner shelf and I huff. Namjoon follows my gaze, “Need a strong, intelligent, tall young man to grab those for you?”

He’s impossible, but for some reason it draws a small smile to my face, “Yes, that’d be great.”

The smile I receive in response is so bright I wonder if it could make flowers grow, “Okay, but only if answer my questions, (y/n).”

I shrug, trying not to notice how his cutoff shirt rises as he stretches to reach the upper shelf. I catch a sudden glimpse of his abs, and I praise every god out there that hot weather can be blamed for my sudden onset of sweat. 

Clearing my throat, I laugh lightly, “Fine, first of all, I didn’t ‘distract’ Jeon. I just had a temporary lapse in judgement. Besides, he came to me all on his own.” His back muscles tense up at my words, but I continue, “And second of all, there’s no juicy story of how I got here. I just volunteer here every Saturday for the Alphites.”

The sound of a hammer hitting the floor startles me as he whirls around, “You’re an Alphite?”

Namjoon’s tone is one of disbelief and it’s a tone I do not appreciate, “Yes, why is that so hard to believe?” My arms cross defensively, “I’ve been a sister since my sophomore year...”

I trail off. He’s still gawking at me ridiculously. Narrowing my eyes, I stride across the trailer and grab his chin, closing his mouth for him, “Watch out, Kim, you’re gonna catch flies.”

Spinning on my heels, I sashay out of the trailer, nose held high in the air and satisfaction held even higher. He’ll catch up. After all, he’s basically supposed to be my bitch today.

I climb up the scaffolding next to the house’s right side and assess the siding work that has already been started. It looks pretty solid and level. I should have no issue with continuing without having to make any initial corrections.

The sound of a bucket of nails hitting the top platform I’m sitting on alerts me of Namjoon’s impending presence. Saving the bucket from teetering over the edge – a safety hazard for sure – I watch amusedly as Namjoon struggles stay upright and climb up to where I am on the scaffolding. Finally, he plops down next to me – entirely too close. I can feel his stare on my skin as I steadfastly ignore him.

“Hey, jagi,” he pokes my arm, “(y/n), listen, you just caught me off guard. I mean, you don’t seem like the type to be an Alphite – that’s all.”

Fury curls up inside me for the umpteenth time that morning, as I turn to face Namjoon with a sickly-sweet smile that has him flinching back, “Then do tell, Namjoon, what type I seem to be?”

I pick up the hammer closest to me and dip a hand into the nail bucket. The sooner this siding got done, the sooner I could haul ass out of here.

“I feel like that’s a trick question,” Namjoon sighs, rubbing a hand over his chin, “I didn’t mean anything bad by it, okay? I guess I just have always thought that your society was a bunch of mom-types—”

I cut him off with a swing of my hammer in the air, “What’s wrong with mom-types, you uncultured swine? And is serving your community really such a ‘mom’ thing to do? I’m sorry. I must have missed that memo. Here I was thinking that it was public service but go off I guess.”

He blinks, “Did you just call me an ‘uncultured swine’?”

I sniff in indignation, “Get with the times, Kim. I just roasted your ass. Now hand me that piece of siding and make yourself useful.”

“You’re so weird,” Namjoon mutters, sliding my request over to me.

“So what?” I shrug, “All the best people are weird. Now, do me a solid and explain to me why you and your ‘brothers’ keep suspiciously popping up everywhere I go.”

“Haven’t you figured it out yet?” he grins, “We’re interested.”

“What does that even mean? That you’re interested?” I wrack my brain, “As in all seven of you fuckers?”

“It means, jagi,” Namjoon pauses, leaning closer, “It means that we’re going to date the shit out of you.”

a/n: i love namjoon. that is all. 

taglist (message me to be added):

@catsandstrawberries @h5naaa @meowmeowyoongles @leftflowerprunedonut @rjsmochii @athletes-of-god @karissassirak @weallhavesecretsinthebestway @cvbachacbitch @bewitch3dforivar @honeyspillings @xxonyxpearlxx​  @valiantcollectorofsandwiches @fivesecondsofsarang 

[lunarliza]

JJ Maybank Must Die | Chapter 3: Fanny Packs

fuckboy!JJ x Reader

series masterlist | prev. chapter | chapter one

JJ Maybank is the island’s most infamous fuckboy- not that you ever cared. But when a group of tourist girls come to your surf shop crying to you about him, you agree to help them plot revenge. Sabotage is all fun and games, until you find that the playboy you were sworn to ruin happens to be falling head over heels for you.

Yes, this is based on John Tucker Must Die lol

For once, you finally felt like everything in life was falling into place.

Sophia dropped off your Venus Panic ticket last night, you booked a ferry to the city for September, you just earned another ‘employee of the month’ title which basically meant you were a shoo-in for the scholarship, and you noticed in the mirror that your ass was looking just a tad bigger.

You were sorting out the application clipboards one afternoon when you heard the ding of the front door opening. In came a cocky head of blonde hair looking as smug as ever. You dropped the stack on sight. 

How did he know where you worked? Was he stalking you? Should you file a restraining order? 

“Uh, can I help you?” 

“So, this is where you’ve been hiding all this time, huh?” JJ crossed his large arms and surveyed the tiny shop.  

“Yeah... how the fuck did you find me?” You bent down to hastily pick up the mess. After the incident at the Boneyard on Saturday, you weren’t expecting to run into him again for the rest of the summer. You didn’t think he’d be this relentless. 

He casually shrugged. “Eh, I just asked around town for a y/n and they told me you worked here. Still amazes me how I haven’t seen you around.” 

You rolled your eyes. As if you and JJ didn’t have English together just this past semester. Nevermind living on the same island for how many years. 

“Anyways,” he continued, I came here to sign up for surfing lessons.” 

You flinched your nose. “You’re telling me you’ve lived here all your life and you don’t know how to surf?” 

This was coming from the boy that won ‘Most Likely to be a Famous Professional Surfer’ in your 5th grade yearbook. 

“Hey, it’s been a while since I’ve hit the water. Maybe I need a refresher.” He flashed you a shit-eating grin- the kind girls around here would swoon over. But in that moment you were just plain uncomfortable. 

“Sorry, we’re booked for the summer.” 

He inched closer to the counter. “Well, at least let me take you out to dinner. Come on, when are you off?” 

You glanced side to side in agitation, racking your brain for some witty remark.

“December.” 

“I’m serious, y/n. I want to take you out! You know, get to know you better,” he prodded. 

You weren’t born yesterday. But he sure was if he thought he was going to take you out anytime soon. Or ever. 

“Yeah well, I think I’ll pass. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have my last session of the day in ten minutes.” 

Luckily, you were able to slip past him and out to the beach for your beginners’ class. It was a small group- an old couple and two boys around the age of nine. 

You greeted them with you usual work-charm and had them set their boards around you. Just as you situated yourself, you hear a faint “Wait!” followed by JJ sputtering towards the pack with a board under his arm. 

You wanted to rip your hair out. 

“What the hell are you doing?!” you spat, startling the old couple with you vulgarity. 

“I’m here for the lesson.” 

“Like I said,” you sneered through gritted teeth, “We’re booked.” The glare on your face was very, very potent, and you knew this wouldn’t be good for the reviews. 

“Yeah, your co-worker in there told me one of the guys that was supposed to be here said he couldn’t make it. So that leaves a spot open for me.” 

Cody. That rat! 

You sighed in defeat, motioning for him to situate next to the younger boys. “Fine, just take a seat and be quiet. You already missed the safety instructions!” 

All throughout your session JJ was an absolute pest. He could have at least played the part of someone who’s never picked up a surfboard in their life. Instead, every time you went into detail about a specific step, he’d pitch in his own comments no one asked for. 

“Well actually, it’s better if you add a jump when you stand up, you’ll go faster.”

“Well actually, if you try to pivot your board when they wave’s under you, you can ride it longer.”

“Well actually, if you attempt a big wave first, you’ll learn how to balance better.”  

The next ‘well actually’ you heard, you were going to fling JJ to the sharks.

When it was time for the group to hit the water, you tried to guide them through the motions, but everyone was too busy listening to JJ ramble on and on about his personal tips. 

For the remainder of the session, you sat on the shallow end, watching JJ have a rat-a-tat time with your customers. Blowing away a stray hair that fell on your face, you continued to glare at the light-haired boy cheering on the kids as they attempted the baby waves. 

There was a point where one of them leaned over onto JJ’s board and threw their arms around him. You softened at bit at the scene. It was very cute. 

Once the hour was over, you called everyone back to shore to give your closing remarks. JJ darted up behind the lot, sparklets flying everywhere as he shook his wet hair. He beamed at you, but you just averted your eyes. 

While everyone headed back to the hut, you tucked the cash you were given into your fanny pack and gathered your items to leave. That was, until you felt the player boy grab onto your hand. 

“Hey, the waves are absolutely insane out there. This is your last session today right? Come surf for a bit, you didn’t really get to do much earlier,” he offered, blinking down at you with his sky-blue eyes. 

“Well I would have if someone wasn’t running my class.” 

JJ let out a soft chuckle. “Look, everyone was happy with the way it went. And I’ll even tell your boss that you’re an amazing instructor. Which, to tell you the truth, you are.” 

You huffed and picked up your board to tread back into the water. You had to give it to him, though. The waves were indeed on fire that afternoon.

You were able practice a few moves you were working on, executing them perfectly. JJ, too, was flexing his tricks and you made a few mental notes to try a few of them later when he wasn’t around. 

When a pipeline wave began rolling your way, JJ tossed you a devilish grin, looking like a kid ready to break something. It was supposed to be one of the hardest ones to surf on. 

“Bet you won’t get this one!” he hollered. You flipped him off with a smile. 

“Bet I will.” 

You both eyed the target, determination evident, as you paddled. JJ quickly bounced up once it tumbled in while you waited a couple seconds after. 

Immediately, he plunged from his board while you expertly pivoted and glided along the tide. Poking his head from the water, he yelped seeing you nail it. 

Afterwards, you plowed back up the sand with him while he raved about what just happened. “That was so sick y/n! It was a pipeline! A fucking pipeline! I’ve never seen anyone do that before.” 

You blushed and tucked your hair behind your ear. “Well, it’s kinda my job.”

As you reached the shop, he turned to face you. “Yeah, speaking of, when do they give you a break around here again?” 

You chuckled and shook your head. “JJ, I had fun out there, but I’m still not going out with you.” 

“Alright! Alright! I get it. Can’t hate a guy for trying.” He held his hands up in defeat. 

You bid him goodbye and started getting ready to close the store. 

Later that evening, you met Sophia and the others at Annalise’s condo, spilling the beans on what happened. They all collectively gasped and hung onto their seltzers. 

“He actually came back?” Maia repeated as Arabella anxious gulped her drink. 

“Yup! Bothered me for my entire session and everything. God, he’s so delusional thinking I’d actually go on a date with him.” 

All the girls giggled except for Annalise who stared at the ground in deep thought. “But what if... you did?” she finally spoke. 

You grimaced. “Why on earth would I do that?” 

“No, like, fake date him,” she re-emphasized, “Think about it- you can fake-date him and we’ll go on your dates and sabotage the fuck out of him! Then, for the cherry on top, you can dump him before he even gets the chance to run! It’s the perfect ploy guys! We need to make sure he never messes with any girl ever again.” 

“Uh, I don’t know,” you scratched your head, “Can we really pull it off? It sounds so messy don’t you think?”

“Relax, we’re not killing him,” Annalise assured, “Also, it’s what he deserves! He’s broken practically every heart on this island. It’s time we take a stand in the name of our womanhood!” 

“That, I agree with,” Sophia added and the other two nodded. 

You were kind of shocked that Soph would be on board with such a preposterous plan. But, then again, this wasn’t the worst thing she’s ever agreed to. 

“You know,” your best friend continued, “I heard after you ditched him at the Boneyard, he hooked up with Emma Cohen the same night and ghosted her too. The boy just won’t stop!” 

Arabella gasped. “See! Rejecting him just isn’t enough! We need to kick him straight in the balls!” 

They did have a point. A twisted, ridiculous point. But you weren’t all gung ho about being the one to beat JJ at his own game. You- the girl who couldn’t even get Pope Heyward to take her to a dance. 

“All you’d have to do is bear him for a few dates. I’m sure we can take care of the rest,” Maia noted. 

Reluctance was still evident on your face. You could tell Annalise was getting desperate. “You know, y/n, I saw all the UVA gear on your locker at the shop. My dad’s best friends with the chancellor. He owes my family a lot of favors. How about I make a deal with you. If you do this for us, I’ll have my dad write you a rec letter and talk to his friend. You’ll be pretty much guaranteed a spot at UVA when you apply.”  

You let out an exasperated breath. Now that was an offer you couldn’t refuse. You wanted to put up more of a fight, but you didn’t want to let an opportunity like that slip from your fingers.

“Alright,” you sighed, “Fine. You sold me with UVA. Count me in your little scheming game again.”

Your friends cheered and clinked their drinks, eyes hungry for revenge. You sat back meekly and sipped yours, knowing the next few weeks were going to be an absolute train-wreck. 

“But wait!” you raised in the midst of the group’s plotting , “I shooed him away today. What makes you think he’ll be back to ask me again?” 

“You rejected him twice today?” Arabella questioned. You gave her a quick nod. 

“Oh girl, he’ll definitely be back.” 

-----------------------------------

Sure enough, JJ was back at the hut bright and early the next morning when you started your shift. 

“It’s you again,” you greeted as he leaned his arms against the counter, flashing you a smirk. 

He had on black aviators and a gray crewneck. For a second he seemed like a cute, innocent little puppy. Until he opened his mouth. 

“Don’t act so coy, babe, you know you’re happy to see me.” 

Oh God. This was the guy making half the island bawl in tears? You really couldn’t wrap your head around it.

You sighed, ignoring his corny-ness. “What do you want? We’re booked for the day.” 

“Ouch, is that any way to treat a customer?” He pretended to have gotten shot in the heart. 

As if on cue, Cody’s stocky legs strolled out of the back room, acting like he owned the place. He slid behind the counter to face you, disregarding JJ. You scowled and rolled your eyes.

“Y/n one of my customers had a complaint yesterday,” Cody stated.

“What? They had a shitty instructor? I could’ve told them that,” you shot back nonchalantly, inspecting your bare nails in disinterest. 

From the corner of your eye, you could see JJ snort in amusement. 

“Actually,” he prevailed, “They were complaining that their board was wobbly because someone let their customers take all the new ones.” 

You remained emotionless at his petty grievance. “What? It’s not my fault I don’t make my students do a hundred push ups at the start of the session. Maybe quit the crossfit and then they’ll actually leave better reviews.” 

Cody narrowed his eyes. “My students are grateful for my complimentary body-weight routine! They need to be fit for the waters. Whatever, stop fucking taking all the good boards! You’re taking away my customer experience, my good reviews, and my scholarship!” 

He proceeded to storm out the front door to his first set of victims for the day. You shot daggers at his back before JJ’s giggling snapped you back to reality. 

“Done,” JJ said, lifting his eyes from his phone.

“What are you talking about?” 

“I just left a bad review for that guy on your website.” 

Your eyes widened. “What do you mean?” 

JJ flipped his screen to you with the post pulled up. You read it out loud. 

“Do not recommend having Cody as your instructor. Made me do a hundred push ups before I got in the water, voice was too demanding, and shorts were uncomfortably short.” You erupted in laughter and playfully swiped his arm. “No way JJ!” 

“What?” he grinned and pocketed his phone. “Dude was being a real asshole to you.” 

You lightened up a bit at his kind gesture. Well, kind to you.

“Anyways, look,” he went on, “I know we might’ve started off on the wrong foot yesterday, but I wanted to come here and ask you out again. Properly.” 

You opened your mouth to speak, but he persisted with his rehearsed spiel. 

“And before you say no, I just want to say that it won’t be nothing grimey or weird. Just dinner. Tonight. It’s not gonna be the best night of your life or the worst, I just wanna get to know you.” 

You sighed and cocked your head to the side. “If I say yes will you leave and stop bothering me while I’m at work?” 

“Abso-fucking-lutely.” 

You blinked in disinterest. “Pick me up at seven. And don’t be late.”

--------------------------------

note: dUN DUN DUN!!! 

chapter four

tags: @obxlife @rudyypankow @yeehaw87 @ilymarkchan @jellyfishbeansontoast @tangledinsparkles @toloveortobeinlove @pixelated-pogues @normatural @teamnick @drizzlethatfalls @hazelgirl355​ @wicked-laugh​ @jjmaybankswife​ @ponyboys-sunsets​ @5am-cigarette​ @everydayimfangirling​ @angvelics​ @poguecollins​ @xealia​ @floridabornandraised​

[talas-starlight]

Scarred Spirits - zuko x fem!reader (pt.6)

SUMMARY: Y/n has been tailing Azula since Omashu and struggles to carry out her mission while protecting what matters most (AHAHAH THIS WAS THE WORST SUMMARY EVER IM SORRY)

WORD COUNT: 4k (uh wow this is my longest piece ever and i- AHAHA)

WARNINGS: panic attacks, fighting, swearing, angst? Tbh if you’ve made it this far in the series nothing new I think (lmk if I forgot anything)

KEY: *** = flashback && italic = internal dialogue

PREVIOUS PARTS: part 1  /   part 2   /  part 3  /  part 4  /  part 5

MASTERLIST: Here!

The cool breeze swept through the palanquin as Azula sat assuredly, ruling everything she passed. “Okay girls, Father has sent word that the machinery and our wonderful new pets will meet up with us soon to chase down the Avatar until he’s too exhausted to even think anymore! Then, we’ll be off to capture Zuzu and Uncle! Victory will be ours.”

“That sounds extremely boring.” Grumbling as if Mai had so much more better things to do with her time.

“Hmm, I have to disagree Mai. What would be more fun than making them feel like there’s no escape but having to fight which they would inevitably fail at trying to win because they’re tired beyond repair!! It will be such a sweet victory.” Letting out a small laugh that sounded nothing but maniacal to you, Mai didn’t say another word as Ty Lee giddily nodded in approval.

Now, that is a tragic sight to see despite how understandably so.

Azula, Ty Lee and Mai have been planning how to hunt down the additional target from the moment they all stepped out of Omashu. Yet, based on that recent encounter, it was more so Azula rather than anyone else. Luckily enough, you were able to stay out of sight the entire time, and nothing requiring you to intervene has occurred. It was only a matter of time before that lucky streak broke.

After much contemplation and sleepless nights since the third anniversary, along with recent events, Zuko finally came to a conclusion. Approaching his uncle with great certainty, he finally let out what has been on his mind.

“Uncle, I thought a lot about what you said.”

“You did? Good, good.”

“It’s helped me realise something.” Letting out a deep breath, getting to the point came quite easily to him, especially since Iroh’s back was still faced towards him.

“We no longer have anything to gain by travelling together. I need to find my own way.”

Not wanting to stay for any of Iroh’s possible rebuttals, he silently reached for his belongings that he had pre-packed for the occasion and turned to make his solo journey into the forest. As he began to walk further into the woods on his own, Iroh knew he wouldn’t turn back for him, so he did the first thing he could think of to aid his nephew if he couldn’t physically be there for him.

“Wait!” Rushing over Iroh grabbed the Ostrich Horse and gave him to Zuko- for someone who has barely been exposed to the real world, he knew his nephew couldn’t do entirely on his own. Even if the animal couldn’t properly speak with him.

Accepting his uncles’ gesture, he climbed on top ready to get on with his own mission of sorts. On his own, Zuko would finally have the chance to do something he never had time to consider until now; find you.

Looking out onto the horizon, the giant, ugly piece of machinery continued to charge its way towards a hopeless group of young teenagers. “Despite how much I hate that girl, I will admit, her determination is unparalleled.”

“Eerrnngggghhhhh!”

“You can say that again.”

It had been approximately three days since Azula received her new toy, and she spent every single minute catching up with the Avatar. To your relief, she seems to have finally caught sight of him, and hopefully, this would also mean that you might finally be able to stop tailing her. In the past three days, you haven’t managed to catch a single minute of sleep or a break, and while this was something you have experienced before, you were sure that your ride was more than ready to collapse at any second.

In all honesty, when a Fire Nation hawk landed near your campsite four days earlier, the last thing you expected was word that you would be receiving assistance for your mission. Not once before had this occurred since you’ve been entirely left to your own devices. You supposed it was because the stakes were too high this round.

***

Y/N.

I am pleased to hear that my daughter is able to catch sight of the Avatar and his assistants in crime against my great nation. While I am sure you are clearly focused on your task with ensuring Azula succeeds in bringing my disgraceful relatives back to the palace, you must extend your attention towards the new targets as well. Regarding my son and brother, I was disappointed when I heard word that they got away since I made it perfectly clear that you must finish the job. On this occasion, I will take the benefit of the doubt since it would be too suspicious if you completed the mission on Azula’s first attempt.

I have dispatched 3 mongoose lizards for Azula and her company. A fourth will be on its way for your use, as it is paramount that you do not let her fail whatsoever.

I have taken the precious and personal time out of my day to write and send this letter so that word does not reach my daughter of your mission. Let this also be a reminder of the possible bounty on your head if you choose to fail. I am sure the pitiful state of your body is enough of a reminder of what I can do to you.

Regardless of your past services to me, remember this is the ultimate test of your loyalty to your nation and me.

Your Fire Lord, Ozai.

Despite informing you that help that was on its way, you spent the rest of the night in a state of turmoil. Talk about having a way with words.

How in Spirits name did that stupid bird find me?! It flew away quickly too so I guess I don’t need to send anything back but… What am I really doing here?

Ozai seems to have some way of finding me so clearly, I can’t run away. Yet, I’m not going to allow him to take anyone back to the Capital…

Frozen in your thoughts, your focus stayed fixated on the fire you ignited earlier in the night.

Fuck I wish I could talk to her. She’d know the right thing to say, and everything would be okay again.

Roughly tugging at your braided hair, you held your legs to your chest desperately trying to clear your head. Stop, don’t think about her too.

Oblivious to any concept of time, when the first rays of yellow and orange peak over the horizon, your mind instantly enters a state of calm. Almost as if it were able to strengthen you from your core. Although while the problem remained, with a stronger mindset, you forced yourself to accept that you were just going to have to work it out further down the line. At this rate with Azula’s split focus, you weren’t even sure if you would have to take care of the Avatar or Zuko first.

***

Funnily enough, it seemed that fate decided you would have to deal with both at the same time since Zuko has caught sight of Azula and friends and now you were tailing both him and his sister. How convenient.

I wonder where Iroh is? Didn’t he get away with Zuko when they ran off the ship?

After keeping out of sight through every moment Azula came even remotely close to Aang, you decided to follow her when she separated from Mai and Ty Lee. But before you entered the area to keep an eye on everything from afar, you noticed Zuko on his Ostrich Horse as if he was waiting for the right moment to interfere.

“Be careful Zuko.”

Whipping around at a speed that could give him whiplash, his face instantly turned into nothing short of a scowl when he recognised your voice.

“You again?! Whoever you are, you need to get away from me. Leave. Me. Alone!”

Attempting and failing to take a step closer to him as he steers his horse a few steps back. “I’m not trying to hurt you. I’m just trying to protect you, that’s all I want to do. If I could have it my way, you’d be far away from this place; away from Azula. You can’t trust her. This isn’t right, and you should be somewhere that could give you a fresh start, like Ba Sing Se.”

“As if you would know anything about Azula or why I’m here! I need to regain my honour, and I’m doing the right thing! Stop trying to meddle with my life when your role in it is completely insignificant!”

An indignant sigh passes through your lips. “Fine. Just be careful. Please.”

Scowling at you once more Zuko tugs the reigns on his ostrich horse to take him further into the abandoned village. You try not to let his anger get to you, but at this point, you’re unsure if you’re more upset or annoyed with his attitude. Sighing under your mask, you do a quick check that all of your weapons are strapped in place since it seems that this interaction isn’t about to end peacefully.

“Let’s do this.”

Hopping off your new lizard friend, you stealthy broke through one of the broken windows of a nearby building, ensuring that you were staying out of sight.

Ah, it seems he wasn’t wasting any time.

“Back off Azula. He’s mine.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

As the three of them got into their fighting stances, you almost wanted to jump in right then and there to help Aang. The sight of his painfully dark under circles was too much of an indicator that this fight wasn’t going to be an easy one.

Making the first move, Azula strikes her blue fire towards Zuko. Luckily enough for him, he was able to deflect it with his own. Observing the fight take place before you, it eventually gravitates further away, leaving you to only listen to what is occurring from your hidden spot.

I wonder how long until I’ll have to step in. With both Zuko and Azula on the offence, it’s clear that one of them is going to get hurt. Something tells me it’s not going to be Azula either. If only he fought smarter rather than harder.

What. A. Pity.

Soon enough, your suspicions were confirmed when you heard Zuko let out an angered scream, followed by a loud crash. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t let out a small snicker at that.

As Aang comes back into view, you scan around for an exit knowing that if you stay where you are, you’ll get caught. Yet when you make your move to run, half of the roof is swiped off clean, causing him to plummet towards the ground. Abandoning any thought, you sprint back to where he’s about to land, quickly catching him.

Stunned that there was another person in a building, Aang frantically looked around, trying to identify who it was that caught him. Eventually, he noticed your eyes peering through some of the broken wooden ceiling around him, your black mask confirming that it was you. “Woah! What…? Oh spirits, it’s you!”

Eye’s widening at how fast he managed to work out that it was you, you desperately tried to dig yourself into the wreckage as you felt Azulas fire coming closer. “Shhh! She’s coming.”

“What? How do you know-?”

As Azula saunters into the building, her infamous smirk adorning her face. Wordlessly lighting up the room's perimeter in flames, Aang begins to struggle against the piece of wood on top of him, consequently crushing you further from under him.

Letting out a small grunt, you scold him under your breath, “stay calm.”

Your inner peace y/n.

Just as Azula raised her right hand to strike, you closed your eyes, imagining a moment you felt at peace. A moment that made you forget all of the chaos your created in the world.

***

Cold, smooth fingertips tenderly reached out towards you, instinctively making your lungs tightly squeeze together as she brushed the hair out of your eyes. The delicate giggle emitting from her pink stained lips was enough for you to lose all sense of constraint as you take a small step towards her. Hesitantly as you stare that the ground, you take her hand in yours, stroking the back of it with your thumb. The action is so small yet feels so loud in your chest because this is as close as its ever gotten.

Just when you’re about to pull it away completely, terrified that you’ve gone too far, her other hand reaches up, lifting your chin ever so softly as she makes you look at her.

“It’s funny y/n, because even though I’ve lived here my whole life, I’ve never seen snow look quite as beautiful as it does in your hair.”

***

When you reopen them, the heat of your fire runs its way through your veins and your fingertips. The fallen remains all around you burst away, freeing yourself and Aang from its constrains. Seeing your golden fire of pure energy light up the room, Azula is stunned into place, instantly recognising it from the day she visited your cell all those years ago. Glowing golden, eyes peering into the deepest parts of her, it's unnerving how the unusual feeling sinks into her bones. Yet, her moments of distraction leave her as Katara reaches the entryway whipping her arm with water.

Complete rage fills Azula’s body. Not only had she been wholly blindsided by your presence, but she also lost focus. And Azula never loses focus.

Whirling around, she strikes at Katara, sending her running out into the open. Needing to make up for her prior incompetence, Azula runs after her.

“Woah! How did you do that?! That was so cool.”

“There’s no time; you need to go out there and help your friends. Never underestimate that princess.”

Aang’s amazement towards how you freed both of you from the crushing weight of the ceiling faltered as he noticed your choice of words.

“Come with me. Please. I need you.”

Sensing the certainty of his decision, you brushed off some ash from your clothing, wordlessly making your way out of the building.

I’m going to regret this.

With Aang following closely behind, you both join Sokka and Katara, and they face Azula, ready to corner her. Yet she wasn’t giving up just yet. Sending her fire with precision, she takes turns in having a shot at each of you. Luckily enough, you were all able to hold your own.

Backing away slowly, you can tell she thinks that she’s almost about to get a proper hold of the entire situation. But to your greatest joy, she falls flat on her face.

“I thought you guys could use a little help.”

This must be Aangs new earth bending teacher.

“Thanks.” Did Katara just smile?!

Not wasting the opportunity that came with their small distraction, she makes a run for an ally as an escape. Although, once again, she is faced with another hurdle being Iroh, ultimately allowing all seven of you to finally corner her.

In true fashion, she doesn’t allow it to bother her one bit, “well, look at this. Enemies and traitors all working together.”

Taking in everyone one by one, she pauses when her eyes lock with yours. “Even you. Pathetic scum, it seems you still haven’t learnt your lesson. I always told father we should have disposed of you from the moment we caught you.” With that comment, you see Zuko glance towards you in your peripheral vision. This is nowhere near the time right now coal brain.

“I’m done.” Raising her arms in surrender, you almost want to laugh. Do these people seriously believe Azula right now?

“I know when I’m beaten. You got me. A princess surrenders with honour.” Standing before everyone, you instinctively fixate yourself on her, searching for a microexpression to indicate what she’s really about to do.  Her smug smile clearly shows that she’ll most likely attack. But who?

By the time she decides on her target, it’s too late. Sending a direct stream of fire towards Iroh, Zuko lets out a horrified scream, instinctively setting off everyone to attack with their element, or weapon in Sokkas case. You on the other hand, rushed to Iroh’s side knowing that the others were more than capable on their own.

As he lays passed out on the ground, panic slowly swarms in your chest. Fuck, another person is dying because of me! I literally saw her focus on him!

Placing your hands on his chest, you let out a deep breath trying to remember a trick you learned on a mission a while back when you got a deep cut to your side. Focusing on him and his faint heartbeat, despite being a bit shaky, you were able to use your fire, providing him with enough energy to bring his breathing to a steady rate. But the moment was short-lived when you heard an explosion go off, giving Zuko the opportunity to get to his uncle's side, and in turn, shove you away from him.

“Get off him! You’re always in the way! Arghhhh!”

Haistly scrambling to your feet, you stand beside Sokka, understanding that it’s best you try not to help him right now. Katara, on the other hand, didn’t seem to share those feelings with you.

“Zuko, I can help.”

“LEAVE!” as he strikes towards you and everyone else, you stumbled backwards. Memories of a similar flame being struck towards you by his father felt like something inside you snapped. While not directly hitting you, the heat radiating down upon you caused your head to spin, and vision to blur.

It seemed that despite training with fire for the past three years, the action coming from him sent you down a spiral incomparable to anything else.

i-I can’t... I’m…

The earth bender girl immediately sensing what was happening to you didn’t hesitate, “Sokka! Grab her! Quickly, we need to go to Appa.”

“What?! Why me!”

“Shut up!! Her heart rate is literally through the roof right now. We need to help her! Can’t you see her shaking right in front of you?!”

Finally taking a good look at your trembling form, Sokka was too stunned to move.

Aang immediately agreeing with Toph, nudges him before setting off in the direction of Appa. “Sokka, NOW!”

Snapping out of his panicked, frozen state, he rushes towards you, scooping you up into his arms.

“Oh Spirits, I am so so sorry if I’m invading your personal space right now. Please, I’m so sorry. It’ll only be until we reach Appa, okay? I’m so…”

Fisting the cloth of his shirt, you shake your head. “It’s o-okay.” Pushing your face into his chest, you try to regulate your breathing in time with his heartbeat. Something was so unexplainably comfortable about having someone hold you that all of the memories of Ozai burning you, began to make its way back into the depths of your mind. So comforting, that at some point between the village and Appa, you passed out.

When you awoke again, you were high up in the clouds with the sun high in the air. How long was I out?

Deciding to sit upright, the first thing you see is the Water Tribe siblings and the earth kingdom girl facing you.

At first, you thought Toph was about to speak up, yet it seemed that Katara’s suspicions of you beat her to the punch. “Don’t think of moving too fast or trying anything! You're cornered now.”

Your eyebrows raised at that. “Alright, then. How would you like me?”

Upon, hearing your voice Aang physically perked up, completely beaming that you were awake. Without a second thought, he trusted that Appa would be able to fly for a bit on his own, making his way to all of you.

“I’m so glad that you’re okay! I was really worried about you.” Taking his place next to Katara, you were shocked at the stark contrast between his attitude towards you, and hers. It’s like he genuinely cares. Well… I guess that makes sense considering he’s an Air Nomad. Oh spirits, does this mean he’s going to pay even more attention to me than when we first met?!

“Uh… thanks. I appreciate it, but you really didn’t have to.”

“No, of course I did! Plus, I’m grateful that you helped me out with Azula! It’s the least we could do. Right guys?” Still having his glowing smile, he turns to his friends, and it seemed that the only one who truly looked indifferent with the entire matter was the earth kingdom girl who just nodded.

“Thanks, Toph!” Finally, a name.

Once again, Katara was displeased, “yeah whatever. If she’s going to stay with us, she’s going to have to tell us who she is. Don’t think we didn’t hear what Azula said back there about you. You need to explain what she meant by that. How does she know you, and what do you have to do with the Fire Lord?!”

At those questions, you weren’t too happy either, “I don’t want to stay with you! I just need to leave and find Azula again.”

For the first time since you woke up, Sokka decided to say something. “Why would you ever want to do that?! Why do you keep wanting to go back to her when you keep getting separated?! If you ask me it’s clearly a sign that you should stay away because she’s completely insane! She even knows you followed her and everything, so she’s going to have her guard up.”

“You don’t understand. If I don’t get back to Azula, people are going to get hurt. I’ve literally saved your lives on two occasions just by tailing her. Now, think about all of the people she can harm when no one’s watching. I’m also a threat to all of your destinies by being here.”

Uncomfortable with the tension that’s been building at an alarming rate, Aang moves so that he’s sitting in between you and the other three. “Okay, I understand, but could you please explain why you’re a threat by being here? You need to stay safe too, your life matters just as much as everyone else’s and even though you’ve proven yourself more than capable of protecting yourself, there’s no doubt in my mind that you’ll be safe if you go to her and I can't let you go knowing your life is at risk.”

“Aang, there are always risks. Spirits, all four of you are at risk, but you know that it's for the greater good to end this war.”

He shakes his head. “It’s not the same. We have each other; we look after each other. You don’t have that. Please. You don’t have to tell us everything now. I understand since we’ve only met once before, but I promise no matter what it will all be okay and you can be apart of our team. Our family.”

On that note, you hesitated. A family?

No. The spirits have made it clear enough that a family is not in my cards.

“That sounds great, but I don’t think it’ll work out.”

Sokka lets out a frustrated groan, “What? Of course, it will! I know I’m not your biggest fan, but it's clear you’re just as against the Fire Nation as the rest of us!”

Looking around at all of their faces, you can tell that even though Sokka and mainly Katara, still clearly have their reservations about you, they understand where Aang is coming from. Heck, if it meant that they had another person on their side and against Azula and the Fire Nation, that was already a win. You almost felt guilty when you saw their horrified faces as you revealed the truth.

“It won’t work because I’m the Fire Lords personal assassin.”

 taglist: @slythergirlimagines​​ @mangoberry43​​ @eridanuswave​​ @whiskeywinter89​​​ @kaylove12​​ @simplyfandomish​​ @khaleesi-of-assassins​ @callums-keith​ @ilovespideyyy​ @calciumcow​ @blackhood5sos​ @nnon-it-up​ @lozzybowe​ @scarletemeterio​ @reclusive-chicken-nugget​ @simpinforsukka​ @chewymoustachio​ @tiffy119​ @sokkassuki​ @spearbatty​

a/n: hehe hiya friends!! Thanks for reading hehe I hope you enjoyed!! Lelel lmk your thoughts or any predictions for what you think is guna happen next hehe

alsoooo did anyone spot my lil inserts for our second lead? AHAHAHAHAHA

don’t fear either!! Zuko will learn eventually hehehe

but anyway i would love to hear from all of you if you have any feedback as well :))

[ve1vetyoongi]

Operation: Love Letters | 03

💌 CHAPTER INDEX 💌

♡ ⇢ pairing: ot7 x reader.

♡ ⇢ chapter word count: 7.5k

♡ ⇢ genre: mystery, college!au, romance, fluff, eventual smut.

♡ ⇢ warnings: none.

♡ ⇢ summary: When every student on campus is going crazy about a survey that claims to make true love bloom, your best friend manages to convince you to join in on the fun — except you’re disappointed to find out that your results just seem to be lost causes. That is until a love letter from a mysterious secret admirer turns up and you find yourself on a mission to find the person behind the pen — but you quickly realise it’s going to be a lot harder than you initially thought when you have 7 possible bachelors to investigate, right? Operation: Love Letters a-go!

♡ ⇢ schedule: updated every day at 5pm GMT in the run up to Valentine’s Day 2020!

♡ ⇢ A/N: i’m not saying this chapter is based on something that may or may not have happened to me but...alcohol and i are no longer friends (even if it produces fantastic fic inspo LMAO). thanks for all the support on the series so far loves, hope you like chapter 3!!! <3

"I can't believe you're coming to a party Y/N! We're gonna have so much fun! Just wait until you see how fast I can chug a keg without throwing up—"

"We're not going to this party to have fun Jimin, we're undercover." Your fingers tap nervously against the steering wheel as you pull into a darkened parking lot, rolling your eyes at the high pitched whine that leaves your best friend in the passenger seat. "My secret admirer is probably inside this very party and our goal for tonight is to uncover him once and for all."

"So no alcohol?" Jimin pouts from beneath the beret perched on top of his pristinely styled hair, far too dressy for a scummy frat party.

"No alcohol."

"Okay but that doesn't explain why I'm being dragged along to this stupid thing." Yoongi's gruff voice sounds from the back as he braces himself on the front seats to butt his head into the conversation. "I should've known it was a trick when you told me we were going to get lamb skewers, your treat."

Yoongi's grumpy eyes catch yours in the rear view mirror as he slumps back into his seat with a huff. "Dude, it was the only way to get you to agree to come and we need you here so you can get us inside the party." You place an elbow on the headrest and lean in to face him, lowering your voice to a hush. "You know the password, right?"

Kim Seokjin's party's are renowned on campus for being some of the wildest and, most importantly, most exclusive events in town. Everyone within a 50 mile radius has heard the stories and the rumours about the strippers and the hookups and the alcohol — but only the most popular and elite kids could get in and see the events unfold for themselves. The key? A password, set by Seokjin himself, and right now, the single barrier between you and your potential secret admirer.

Luckily for you, your roomate just so happened to be best friends with the vice-president of Kappa Tau — Kim Taehyung — and he had a fair share of his own party stories, so you figured if anybody would be able to get you inside it had to be Yoongi.

Even beneath the shadows cascading over his face in the backseat, you see Yoongi's eyes light up. "And if I do know the password, why would I tell you?"

"Because I'm the best roommate you've ever had?" You try to blink at him in a cutesy way but being sweet was never your strong point and your features harden when Yoongi raises an eyebrow, amused by the ridiculous way you clasp your hands pleadingly. "Because I'll tell everyone about the time you got drunk and puked all over your Biology notes so you paid Kim Jongin to sit the test for you—"

"Okay, okay fine!" Yoongi grumbles, slipping out of his seatbelt and hopping out of the car with a nervous roll of his eyes. "I'll get you in. But you owe me for this, you hear me?"

A satisfied smile finds your lips as you scurry out into the night after him and Jimin practically skips to your side, linking his arm around your elbow and pulling you excitedly towards the dorm up ahead that appears to pulsate with life, the pumping bass of whatever song is playing vibrating through the soles of your high heels, causing you to sway a little as you adjust to the tempo of it.

Multicoloured lights that glow red, green and blue are strung up between the branches of the trees lining the sidewalk outside and they are the only light source surrounding the grassy lawn that inhabits a group of people dancing and drinking together outside. Despite the early state of the night, the dorm steps are already littered with a few wasted, crying girls and ragged boys lighting cigarettes as they offer them a bed to sleep in.

You shudder. Gross.

Yoongi leads you around to a back door that has been propped open haphazardly with a couple empty liquor bottles. Stood beside it are a pair of buff frat boys, too busy spraying each other with beer to guard the doors from unexpected guests, but they both straighten up and plaster feeble smiles to their faces when Yoongi coughs impatiently behind them. You suppose your roommates reputation of being...less than friendly comes in handy sometimes, huh?

"Uh, hey Yoongi." The taller one says sheepishly. "D-do you got the password—"

"Of course I do, doofus." Yoongi has to stand on his tip toes to reach the guys ear to whisper the password and you snicker, something about seeing a giant frat dude reduced to a puddle of fear when faced with your rough around the edges roommate hilarious.

The guy looks positively terrified when Yoongi leans back smugly, sending a wink in your direction that says I've got this under control and gestures for you and Jimin to enter the party, before an arm shoots out and stops you entirely. "Actually, I can't let you inside."

"What? Why?" You can't hold back your laughter now, Yoongi's face flushing a deep red as the two guys block the doorframe entirely. "I gave you the password!"

"The old password." The other dude corrects. "Sorry, but it's invalid."

"Hey, listen here moron, I'm buddies with the vice-president of Kappa and he's gonna totally kick your asses when he hears about this—"

"Yoongi? Is that you?" The two bouncers are pushed aside by a lean man with blue hair who immediately launches himself at your roommate and tackles him onto the ground in a flurry of red converse. "I never thought I'd see the day where tough guy Min Yoongi turns up to a frat party!"

Yoongi prises himself out of headlock, rubbing the back of his head and holding the blue haired man at arms length. "Nice to see you too, Taehyung." He grumbles as he's pulled to his feet, wiping grass from his black hoodie.

"Ah, so this is Taehyung?" Jimin mumbles into your ear. "You never told me he was this cute!"

"And Yoongi never told me that he had hot friends he's been hiding from me all these years." Blue hair turns and offers you and Jimin his hand, your best friend melting at his touch from behind his thick rimmed glasses. "Taehyung. Nice to meet you. Now what are you guys doing outside without any drinks?"

Bingo! Looks like you just found your ticket inside.

"Yoongi here forgot the password," You shout over the blaring music to Taehyung. "So it looks like we're just gonna have to go home. And my friend here hasn't even had one drink yet..."

You push Jimin forward with all your might, struggling not to laugh when you see how Taehyung's tipsy eyes look him up and down before they soften at the edges and he flashes him an award winning smile that has your best friends panties practically dropping.

"Well I suppose it wouldn't hurt if I just got you guys a couple drinks right? Follow me!"

With that Taehyung grabs Jimin by the elbow and pulls him behind into the dark mouth of the party and you turn to Yoongi with a sly smirk. "Looks like we didn't need you after all, Mr Min Yoongi tough guy."

Yoongi trails behind you with a pout. "Shut up. Let's just get this over with."

Bodies are pressed together like sardines in a can, pushing and gyrating against one another in time with the rhythm of the house music that is headache inducing when you get inside.

"So this is what a frat party is like?" You murmur.

Yoongi goes first, reaching behind to grasp your clammy hand and pull you forwards from the pond into the ocean. You blink, trying to make yourself as small as possible to fit through the small space Yoongi clears before you get swallowed up by the crowd. The air in here is thicker than outside and body heat radiates from the walls and just as you start to feel claustrophobic, the crowd spits you out into a kitchen.

It's only then that you register the state of the house — the kitchen is a mess. The counters are covered in half empty pizza boxes, the contents of which had somehow ended up on the walls, empty cups litter the floor and a bottle, still half full, rolls across the tile past your feet. And to make matters worse, you are pretty sure there's vomit in the sink, the sour stench mixing with the musty aroma of cheap beer.

Yup. The stories were true. Kim Seokjin sure knew how to throw a house party, huh?

Yoongi eyes you curiously. "You say that as if this is your first party." Your expression remains serious and he chokes. "Oh god. Don't tell me this is your first party, Y/N?"

You shrug. "This is my first party."

Yoongi slaps a palm to his forehead. "Fuck. You like throwing yourself in the deep end huh?"

"What do you mean?" You suddenly feel nervous, glancing around at the hoards of drunken twenty-somethings stumbling around the living room singing bad karaoke or the couples in the corner making out or the other girls on the makeshift dance floor who don't stick out like a sore thumb in the same way you do.

You wipe your palms on the black sequined crop top adorning your torso. Before you had left, you had looked in the mirror at your reflection and felt confident. Jimin had turned into a child with a Barbie doll when given the task of finding you an outfit, practically ripping everything out of your neatly organised closet and throwing indistinguishable garments at you in a frenzy. You must have tried on at least 12 different outfits before he found the "perfect" thing for you to wear.

You had to admit, the strappy top hugged your figure nicely and the sequins glittered in the light each time you moved, giving you a kind of ethereal glow. You had even spent longer than usual on your makeup, ensuring your eyes were flawlessly smoked out and the dab of deep red lip tint enhanced your lips just enough, making your face look pouty but in a way that was intentional and possibly even alluring if you squinted.

However, now as you stand paralyzed surrounded by drunk twenty somethings in a strangers kitchen your top feels suffocating, your makeup looks splotchy in places and your lips seem excessive. You strain your neck to see your reflection in the microwave, swiping your thumb across your lips to remove some of the pigment, smudging a little onto your chin and leaving you with a single, red fingertip.

"Shit. I really wasn't prepared for this huh?"

“You look fine.” Yoongi says when he notices you hugging your torso. “Nice. You look nice.”

It's only then that you realise Yoongi's hand is still wrapped around your own, as he squeezes it reassuringly and pulls you over to a quiet corner in the kitchen, awkwardly shifting and shoving his sticky hand into his pocket when he sees the funny look you send him.

"Look, Kim Seokjin's party's are not for novices. So we're gonna have to set some ground rules if you're gonna survive the night, okay?" You nod and Yoongi places his hands on your shoulders. "Rule number one, never take a drink from a stranger. Two, if someone asks you to play spin the bottle, run. Three, if the bathroom door is shut don't open it. And four, always stay close to me or Jimin, okay?"

"Jeez, okay dad." You chuckle sheepishly. "I'll be careful. I'm just here to get answers, remember?"

Yoongi eyes you carefully. "Fine. But promise you'll follow the rules—"

"Hey Y/N! I got you a drink!" Jimin bounds over to you like a Labrador puppy, thrusting a red solo cup into your hand with an elated grin. "Come on, drink up! We have a secret admirer to find!"

You see how Yoongi narrows his eyes as you lift the cup to your lips. "What? You said no drinks from strangers." In a few gulps you down the murky liquid in your cup, eyes stinging at the burn in your chest as you wipe the back of your mouth triumphantly when it earns cheers from a crowd nearby. "Let the night begin!"

"So..." Yoongi starts. "Can we leave yet?"

Almost everyone has filtered back onto the dance floor by now, leaving you and Yoongi alone on the far side of the kitchen apart from Jimin, who is busy trying to fit a whole slice of pizza in his mouth.

You lean back against the fridge as you swing your lame solo cup from your hand like it's an expensive crystal wine glass. You've been here for nearly three hours, just waiting for something to happen. Anything. A sign or something, like your secret admirer was just going to emerge from the crowd followed by a heavenly glow and a bouquet and you were going to live happily ever after.

But instead you seem to be the only near enough sober person in the building, inspecting your chipped nails for the nth time that night while Yoongi let's out intermittent bored sighs and questions how much longer until you throw in the towel and give up for good.

"Not yet," You say determinedly, eyes trained to the front door, like you're waiting for it to open. "We still have the whole night left to search."

Yoongi rolls his eyes and opens his mouth to say something but is quickly interrupted by Jimin who is looking a little green in the face. "Uh guys, I don't feel so good..."

"Woah!" Yoongi staggers up, arm shooting out the catch Jimin before he stumbles over his own feet. "You good, man?"

"I think..." Jimin brings a hand to his mouth, eyes suddenly panicked. "I think I'm gonna puke!"

Yoongi flashes you a concerned look. "Stay right here okay? I'll take him to the bathroom and be right back — come on, kid."

With that Yoongi hauls Jimin over his shoulder and disappears into the dark mouth of the party, Jimin's cries of not on my leather pants! ringing through the house.

You shake your head with a groan. Great. Now not only are you the weird sober girl at the frat party, you are alone.

Fuck it. If you were going to get through the rest of this night you might as well enjoy it right?

You slam your solo cup down on the bench, ripping the cap off a fresh vodka bottle and pour the liquid with shaky hands into your cup until it covers the red lipstick stain your lips have made on the rim. Raising the cup to your lips. you chug the contents in one go, wincing as the foul liquid burns a path through your body.

"Someone's eager!" A chirpy voice sounds from beside you. A hand comes out to grab the vodka bottle from your hand and you quickly recognise it to belong to none other than Kim Seokjin, who fills his own cup half way. "Having a good night, sweetheart?"

You are rendered speechless. A grey, silk, button up shirt hangs from his broad frame, spilling over the edges of his tight black jeans. You've never seen him in person before this moment but you see why he once got approached by a modelling agency on campus last semester — because this guy is next level hot. Like sex on legs hot. And it takes everything inside you to stop the way your knees wobble when his eyes look you up and down and focus on your mission.

Seokjin runs a hand through his bleached hair, pushing the strands upwards and away from his face as he slumps against the wall next to you, crossing his legs and taking a long swig from his cup, grimacing at the taste and earning a sympathetic grin from you.

"Eager to get drunk so I forget I'm here." You reply with a roll of your eyes, copying his movements and sipping on your own drink.

Seokjin eyes you curiously. Like he's intrigued by your less than enthusiastic response to seeing him. I mean, he did look like that after all. Most girls probably dropped their panties as soon as he entered the room. But not you. No. You were here for a reason.

"I haven't seen you around here before."

"Yeah. That's probably because I don't usually come to these things." You lean in closer, like you're letting him in on a secret. "Not usually my scene."

Seokjin nods, suddenly struck by a thought. "Then let's get drunk together!" He grabs your arm, bringing your solo cups together and creating a clink clink sound with his tongue, resulting in some of your drink sloshing over onto your jeans. "I bet I can change your mind about party's once you see how Kim Seokjin does it."

"Actually, I wanted to ask you about something first—" You retrieve the note, holding it out to him when his index finger presses against your lips and he lets out a shhh.

"Questions later. For now, you gotta try my famous concoction."

"Concoction?" You raise an eyebrow as Seokjin rips open a cupboard door and starts pouring a mixture of spirits into two cups. Just the sight of it makes your stomach churn but you tell yourself that this might be exactly what Seokjin needs to open up to you about the letter. Perhaps he'd be more loose lipped once tipsy?

Looks like you're about to find out. Seokjin thrusts one of the cups towards you.

"This will change your life. Trust me."

Rule number two. Never accept drinks from a stranger.

But Seokjin wasn't a stranger, technically, right? And besides, Yoongi himself had already broken rule number four by leaving you alone in the kitchen, so what would the harm be if you made things even in the name of Operation Love Letters?

"Sure." You say finally, taking the cup from his grasp and throwing the entire contents down your throat. "In the name of Operation Love Letters"

Soon enough, it is becoming difficult to remember exactly how many drinks you have drank already, but part of you doesn't care because you are finally starting to feel free.

It's clear that Seokjin feels similarly as his earlier giggles have turned into full on chortles, as everything you say seems to be of comedic value to him, able to practically send him rolling on the ground every time you speak.

You find yourself laughing along, cheering when he pours you another round. The bright, flashing disco lights from the lounge creep into the kitchen, bouncing off Seokjin's sharp features and the intensity of them hurts your eyes so you close them for a moment, shutting the party out completely and retreating inside your brain, which is slow and the calmest it has been since you got here. The sound of someone violently throwing up echoes in your ears, though you can't tell if it's coming from the garden or from the living room. It doesn't matter anyway.

Suddenly, you feel a pair of lips against your ear, words tumbling from them too quickly for you to pick them apart in your drunken state the first time, simply hearing a string of mumbles and murmurs. A giggle escapes your throat as you open your eyes, met with Seokjin's face meters from yours, mouthing something.

"I'm going to the bathroom, I'll be back!"

You feel yourself mouthing something back, but you have already forgotten what, lowering your head to rest it on top of your outstretched arm. Your eyes are blurry, barely able to focus on the crumpled beer cans that litter the counter a few inches from your nose. The music and sounds around you began to mould into one overwhelming hum that you can feel vibrating in every nerve ending and then—

A hand lands on your back. You twist under its grip, a woozy smile forming.

"Seokjin, you're back!" The exclamation leaves your mouth before you can see the owner of the hand which is still planted firmly between your shoulder blades, drawing small circles there. "Now...I gotta ask you something, hm? I got this note, and I think you know who sent it to me." Your shaky gaze focuses, realisation slightly delayed because of your drunken state, but you are able to slowly take in the face of someone who was very much not Seokjin standing over you as you hold out the letter.

This person has a head of black hair falling across a pair of steely eyes that burn into you hotly. The hand suddenly feels fiery and wrong against your back and you stumble to your feet in order to shake it off, knocking your metal bar stool to the ground in the process.

Rule number four: never be alone.

"Why're you out here all by yourself beautiful?" The guy slurs, staggering closer to you. His foul breath fans your face as he speaks. "Wanna come with me?" He drops his hands to grip your hips. Your arms are pressed between his chest and your own and you struggle to get them free so you can push him. Hit him. Punch him. Anything. You need to be away right now.

"She doesn't want to come with you, man."

"Hah, shhh bro, she wants to come with me, don't you beautiful?"

Your eyes are shut right but you feel his body get suddenly ripped away from yours, allowing you to fall forward into the space in front of you and let out the shaky breath you didn't know you were holding.

Another arm comes to rest gently around your shoulders, this one comforting and kind. Before you can register it, your body is being pulled forwards, faster than your feet can move and you stumble over own heel, but a hand comes to grip you just below your armpit, steadying you and practically carrying you away from the kitchen.

"What the fuck man?" Sounds from behind you, but you are too overwhelmed to notice.

Suddenly, your weak body collides with the brisk air outside. The feeling is refreshing against your lightly damp skin and you greedily gulp it into your lungs, desperate to get rid of the stale, hot air from inside. Your body is placed into a chair, the arm unwinding from your shoulders and instead opting to tap your hand.

"You okay?" A voice questions. Your eyes open enough to vaguely register a figure on one knee in front of you, a hand patting your arm comfortingly. "Hold on. Stay here." You see a pair of feet walking away. You're not sure how long they were gone for but you recognise the pair of red converse when they reappear.

"Drink this." A red cup is thrust into your line of vision. You begin to shake you head, groaning at the thought of enduring any more alcohol.

"Mmmf'had enough." You just about murmur, limply pushing it away.

"It's water. It'll help you feel better." Something tells you to trust the voice, taking the cup from his hands.

You throw your head back and let the deliciously cold liquid run down your throat, soothing the burn that remained from the liquor. You drain the cup of every last drop and let him set it neatly on the ground next to your feet.

"Do you have a ride home?"

"Can't go home yet. Promised I wouldn't break the rules..." You mumble, as you try to stumble to your feet but your legs feel wobbly and before you can take a step forward you feel your weight topple to the right.

A hand shoots out to grab your body as it falls. You don't remember if your body hits the floor as your eyes fall shut half way down, catching a glimpse of blue hair before everything turns black.

A light radiates from the window behind your head and your tired eyes reluctantly resist the sun invading the shield of your heavy lids with its brightness. Too bright, in fact, for your hungover state.

Your legs are splayed out at an uncomfortable angle, heavy and weak as they dangle over the edge of the bed which you snuggle deeper into, desperate to escape the intense feeling of regret nestling in the pit of your empty stomach.

Lifting your head from the cushion, you try and fail to open your eyes, grogginess clouding your vision, so you opt  instead to marvel at the way the soft, orange glow that infiltrates the room is warm against your skin. You drag a finger down your still bare arm and enjoy the shiver the light feeling leaves behind, a comforting contrast to the thumping hangover that is beginning to grow stronger at your temples. Your tongue is dry and fat in your mouth, rough against the soft skin of your cheek as you attempt to create some moisture to relieve the feeling.

Just as you prepare to turn over, fully intending to fall back into a deep slumber and hopefully sleep off the hangover, a piercing noise sounds a short distance away, causing you to stir.

It is as though the sound pulls your head from a pool of deep water, your ears warming up and becoming alert at the surface as the water drains away. You strain. Did you imagine it?

"La la la..."

No! There it is again, the same shrill sound but clearer this time. It seems to be drawing gradually closer, a vaguely recognisable tune fitting together like a puzzle.

"I wanna be the very best, like no one ever was,"

Singing?

"To catch them is my real test, to train them is my cause,"

You kick your legs childishly, wriggling around on the mattress until you break free from the duvet that smothers your limbs and rip the pillow from beneath your head, bringing it down roughly against your face in an attempt to block out the sound that makes your head throb.

"Jiminnnnn," you groan, extending the last syllable of his name in annoyance. He must have found his way back to your place after the party last night, probably drunk out of his mind. How was he not knocked out on the couch on the opposite side of the room, a mirror image of your current state?

Memories of the night before slowly resurface in bits and pieces. Shaky hands pouring liquid into a red cup. Jimin's laughter. Yoongi's blurry face disappearing into a crowd of people. A pair of hands pressing into your hips, nails creating crescent bruises on your damp skin, the hairs rising on your arms before you're saved by—

"I will travel across the land, searching far and wide,"

"For fucks sake, Jimin, shut the fuck up!" You practically explode, launching the cushion in your arms across the room. You hear it hit the wall, and you cover your head and brace yourself for a blow twice as hard in retaliation

One...two...three...

Nothing. Not even a groan of discomfort.

"Teach Pokémon to understand..."

Your body shoots upright. The beating in your chest quickens when your shaky vision focuses on your unfamiliar surroundings. Dark blue sheets are draped across your torso, definitely not the pink, floral set you laid out on your bed last week and this is definitely not your apartment. Adrenaline courses through your veins at this revelation, cold and unwelcoming like a slap to the wrist.

Where the fuck are you?

The temperature suddenly feels like ice, forbidding and foreign, all forms of comfort disappearing as you take in the shelves of books stacked lazily on top of one another at the foot of the bed. Papers lay in piles on the desk situated against the opposite wall, a laptop closed but still connected to the electric supply neatly placed next to them. An office chair is half heartedly tucked underneath it, a black fraternity t-shirt draped across the back.

SEOKJIN. KAPPA TAU.

You re-read those three words at least a hundred times, you are sure of it. You read them so quickly that the white letters blur together to create one hazy blob.

You are hallucinating, you tell yourself, that or you are still drunk. The shock sends you tumbling out of bed, landing with a smack against the wooden floor in a flurry of blue sheets before you manage to scramble to your feet and rush towards the tall glass cabinet that stands behind you. Your hands press up to the glass, breath creating foggy clouds in front of the rows and rows of shining trophies, medals and plaques that line each shelf of the cabinet. Each is inscribed with the same name over and over again.

KIM SEOKJIN. BEER PONG CHAMPION 2019.

KIM SEOKJIN. BEST FRATERNITY PRESIDENT AWARD.

Fuck.

You feel something vibrate against the small of your back and you attack your back pocket, causing your phone to fall to the floor in the process. It lands upright, spinning for a short while before coming to a halt.

32 missed calls 12 voicemails Yoongi: "WHERE R U?" Yoongi: "DID U GO HOME??." Yoongi: "CALL ME."

You're about to call him back when...

"The power that's inside!"

The song coming from behind the door loudly interrupts your mental crisis.

You move towards the mirror on the wall, taking in your dishevelled appearance. Licking your thumb, you rub at the black eyeliner that had transferred below your eyes and run it through the baby hairs that stick up from your scalp at all angles.

Shakily, your hand reaches for the door handle, twisting until you feel the bolt unclick from the frame. With a deep breath you push the door open a crack, allowing you to squeeze your body out into a kitchen.

"POKÉMON! GOTTA CATCH THEM ALL — holy shit!"

The song comes to an abrupt end as the vocalist squeaks with surprise at the sound of your voice.

"Kim Taehyung?"

Silence is suddenly cast across the small room, a shirtless boy stood in nothing but luminous yellow shorts that contrast his blue hair staring at you wide eyed, one leg propped up on the nearest dining table chair. His left hand grips the handle of a saucepan that now hovers mid air above an empty plate, the other pointing towards the ceiling with a black spatula.

It is clear you have interrupted a serious performance of his repertoire (that you hoped no one else had to endure in their lifetime) and despite your initial reaction being to laugh at the comedic position you find him in, you resist, instead simply mirroring the lifeless blinks he sends your way.

The smell of cooking eggs fills the room, the scent enough to make your stomach feel woozy and emphasise the burn that still lingers there from all the vodka you poured down your neck at Seokjin's party. A few seconds pass before he snaps his mouth closed and proceeds to dish up his egg, shifting to hide the blush that has risen hotly in his cheeks. Taehyung's hair is messy as though he has not long woken himself, the sides flattened where he had laid against the pillow and the top sticking up in places.

"O-oh, sorry, did I wake you?" Taehyung stutters through his teeth, clearly dealing internally with the humiliation of being caught in his tighty whities. "Seokjin didn't tell me he was going to bring anyone back last night."

"Taehyung?" You ask warily, creeping further into the kitchen on the soles of your bare feet. It is cold, provoking your toes to curl. "Seokjin brought me back here?"

"Wait, you're Yoongi's roommate right?" His words are sudden and sharper this time, shoulders relaxing as he flicks his index finger out to point at you, a warm smile spreading across his face as he blows on a spoonful of egg.

"Uh, yeah. That's me." You admit, shrugging your shoulders as he nods his head. "I'm Y/N. You met me and my friend Jimin last night." It feels strange to introduce yourself to someone after you have already slept in their home, walked in on their shirtless one man show and rudely interrupted their Sunday morning breakfast. Taehyung doesn't seem phased though, waving his fork at you and speaking through a mouthful of yolk.

"Ah so that's how you met Seokjin! He didn't tell me that you two were ya know...getting it on." You splutter at his words, rushing forwards to to grip the kitchen counter for support when his eyebrows wiggle up and down as though their movements mean to insinuate something. "I'm his roommate, if you couldn't tell."

"We weren't - we didn't - at least I don't think..."

Your confused rambles are interrupted by a deeper voice that rumbles from behind the bathroom door that opens to reveal a figure in black sweatpants and a baggy t-shirt. Seokjin.

A towel covers his head, hands rubbing frantically at the wet hair beneath it. A few stray droplets land on the front of his shirt, turning it a darker shade of grey wherever they touch. He lowers the towel, twisting it so it sits comfortably around his shoulders before he leans over to pick from Taehyung's plate with a roll of his eyes in your direction.

"Taehyung, the last time we gave you vodka you tried to do a hand stand on top of the kitchen table." He gestures towards the table next to you. You notice how the leg is taped tightly back together, making the entire structure look slightly lopsided. "Trust me, Y/N, you don't wanna trust anything this guy says when he is hungover."

"Woah, man, do you have to tell everyone that?" He hisses, cocking his head towards you and drawing an imaginary line across his neck as if to tell him to cut it out. "Congrats, though man!" He adds, dropping his empty plate in the sink and moving to give Seokjin an exaggerated pat on the back. "You got laid again!"

Seokjin's eyes widen with surprise, before he turns to you with a look of panic flashing across his features.

"See? My point exactly. We didn't—"

"Did we-- ?" Your question lingers awkwardly in the air, sounding more frantic than you had intended.

"What?! No!"

"Yeah, I'm gonna leave you two kids to it." Taehyung sucks on his teeth with a clap of his hands. He turns, striding into what is presumably his bedroom, calling "I'll be in my room if you need me!" over his shoulder as he does so.

Seokjin pinches the bridge of his nose. "Ignore him, he's just a massive nerd, really."

Seokjin shifts uncomfortably, and for the first time you see the douchey confident frat boy facade falter when he watches you fall into a dining room chair and let your head fall in your hands, silently hoping to cover the mortification present on your face.

"So you don't remember what happened at all?" Seokjin reaches into the closest kitchen cupboard, retrieving a glass that he fills with water directly from the faucet. He opens a box of pain killers and pops out two capsules.

"Nope. Zilch." You manage a feeble smile when he presses the pills into your palm. "Fill me in?"

"You were pretty fucked up last night so I thought it would be sensible to bring you upstairs," Seokjin hops up onto the counter beside you, so close that you can can almost smell his freshly applied deodorant. His leg bounces nervously. "I slept out here. Just so you know." He gestured towards the crumpled blankets that are strewn across the couch, barely covering the body shaped dent that had formed in the sunken cushions.

Raising your head, you sink lower into the chair and lift your eyes to finally meet his. His gaze is piercing, surprising you a little. He seems to notice, softening his stare. You usually find things like this uncomfortable. You were expecting a scrutinizing look, the type you were used to from guys like Kim Seokjin. But somehow Seokjin's intentions feel kind, perhaps slightly cautious but warm even so.

"Hey. Thank you. For helping last night. You didn't have to bring me here. And for saving me from that guy at the party. I'm seriously grateful. I owe you one."

"Trust me, it's all good. No debts or anything." He smiles at your rushed babble of appreciation, his hand unconsciously scratching a non-existent itch on the back of his neck. "After all, it was kinda my fault. If I'd known you were such a lightweight I wouldn't have given you that drink. Still feel kinda bad." His shoulders shrug jokingly and you can't help but snort at his words. He seems to relax at this, assured that you aren't as vulnerable as your sickly appearance suggests.

You shift in your seat and something crinkles in the back pocket of your jeans. Shit! The love letter!

"Well if you feel that bad about it, then how about you do me a little favour?"

Seokjin rolls his eyes playfully. "What type of favour, sweetheart?"

"This." You unfold the letter and slide it across the kitchen island towards him. "Do you know who could've written this?"

Seokjin's eyes widen as he scans the note, whispering the words beneath his breath as he reads. "Oh shit...this is like legit legit."

"That's what I said!" You nod eagerly. "Now does anything seem familiar to you?"

A finger stabs at the Kappa Tau logo in the corner of the page. "Well this paper definitely came from one of my guys. But it could be any one of them..."

A defeated sigh leaves you. "So you're saying you don't know who it could belong to?"

"I mean, I know it's not mine. But apart from that, it really could be anyone." He neatly folds the note and places it in your palm. "Sorry I couldn't help."

You shake your head. "It's fine. I'll just have to find a new lead..."

"I have an idea. Have you heard about the kissing booth the frat is organising for Valentine's Day?"

You nod. "Sure. What about it?"

"How about if you sign up, and like, set a trap for this guy. He'll think he can totally get away with kissing you. And you can catch him right in the act!"

"Huh. I guess that doesn't sound like such a bad plan..." You muse. "Maybe I could get Jimin to sign up with me..."

"Jimin is signing up for the kissing booth? I-I mean you and Jimin are signing up?" Taehyung's voice suddenly stammers as he bursts in the kitchen, thankfully dressed in far more clothing than before.

"Yeah, Seokjin just came up with this totally awesome plan to catch my secret admirer at the kissing booth—"

"When is it?" Taehyung splutters, face flushing a deep shade of red when he earns two startled looks. "I-I mean just wondering. For science."

"Anyone would think that you're her secret admirer man." Seokjin chuckles, and Taehyung just looks sheepish before he joins in half heartedly.

"Ha...that's funny. About that..." You open your mouth to pry further about why Taehyung is suddenly acting so skittish but the front door suddenly busts open and in walks Yoongi, still in his pajama shorts with a hoodie thrown over top and a hat to hide his bed hair.

He glances around the room before his eyes zero in on you, and before you can say anything he's running towards you and throwing his arms around you in a tight hug that knocks the breath straight from your lungs.

"Yoongi...can't...breathe."

"Where the fuck have you been?" Yoongi breathes amidst a sigh of relief. "I was close to filing a missing person's report. Why did you just disappear like that last night after I told you not to get lost?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine!" You wrap your arms around his waist and pat his back, as if to prove it. "You don't need to worry, Seokjin took care of me."

Yoongi's eyes narrow in on Seokjin sat at the breakfast bar eating a nutrients bar. "I was supposed to be taking care of you. Why did you leave with him?"

"Well good morning to you too, Yoongi." Seokjin says with a shrug of his shoulders. "Don't worry. There wasn't any funny business, I slept on the couch."

Yoongi narrows his eyes but let's you free from his grip gently. "You sure you're okay?"

"Completely."

"From now on you're staying at home where you won't get lost, no matter if you have to go on another Operation Passion Penpal mission or whatever."

"Operation Love Letters," You remind him with a punch to the shoulder. "And I promise I won't run off again without telling you first next time."

Despite the reassuring smile you flash him, Yoongi still scans your face for any sign of hesitation, his eyes softening at the edges with relief that you're not hurt. His mouth opens to say something but then he shuts it tightly again, taking a step back from you and scratching his neck with a grumble. "We should really get going. You'll be late to class."

"Shit!" You scramble to check your phone, finding a plethora of further missed calls and texts from a very worried Jimin. "You're right. I really should go..."

"Hey, I can drive you later if you want." Seokjin butts in, but Taehyung quickly shuts him down.

"Dude, chill. Just let him take this one okay?"

The room falls silent, all eyes falling on you. "Am I missing something?"

"Well, guess I'll be going then!" Taehyung avoids the question, turns on his heels and starts into a brisk walk but not before you're reaching for the strap of his backpack.

"Hey! Wait up!"

Before you can stop it, Taehyung's bag is slipping down his shoulders and falling to the ground in a flurry of books and papers that scatter all over the floor of the apartment. "Oh shit! I'm so sorry!"

Taehyung turns and just blinks at the mess, looking positively startled, and you assume it's because you just literally straight up attacked him, but when you bend to your knees and start to help him clear up, you see his eyes flit nervously to a piece of paper poking out from beneath a history textbook.

You recognise it instantly. It's written on the very same type of paper as the note in your back pocket and your heart almost skips a beat.

As if reading your mind, Taehyung's hand shoots out to grab the note at the same time as yours, and much to your dismay there's a loud rip! as the piece of paper tears down the middle, each of you holding an opposing half.

Taehyung avoids your eyes as he shoves everything back into his bag and leaves you kneeling on the kitchen floor, clutching a note littered with a familiar scrawl.

"I'll see you around." He says simply, before his head of blue hair disappears down the staircase.

"Hey wait!" Seokjin calls as you get up to follow Yoongi who is already on his way out to the car. "Let me know how the mission goes. And if you don't find the guy, feel free to crash one of my parties again anytime."

"I—okay!" You squeak, face burning hot as you rush down the stairs away from Seokjin's amused chuckle. "Thanks again!"

You grab your phone and dial up your best friends number when you're out of earshot from Seokjin. He sounds relieved to hear you're okay, quickly quieting down when you tell him that you think you have a new lead in the form of a certain blue-haired-roommate's-best-friend.

"Meet me at my place, I'll tell you everything, I promise. I've got big news about Operation Love Letters!"

[twoidiotwriters1]

Pure Blood 8 (Sirius Black x F!Oc)

A/N: I’m not crying, you are.

Words: 2,384

Warnings: Tears, and broken hearts

Series’ Masterlist

Chapter 7 // Chapter 9

Chapter 8: Lost girl

“Persephone? Are you all right? ”Regulus asks“ What does the letter say?”

My hands shake and I drop the letter on the table. I look up and meet Reg.

"I ... I don't ... this ..." everything around me becomes blurred for a few seconds. I don't understand anything, this can't be happening to me, not now.

"You have to be kidding!" My trance is interrupted by a scream. Reg flips in place and I also look in that direction, among the other tables.

Sirius stands up and I can see he has a paper in his hand.

No no no! His face is completely red. James tries to calm him down without success. Both argue and their entire table focuses on them.

My heart is racing, it wants to run away from my chest, my whole body trembles but I'm not sure if it's because of anger, fear, anguish, maybe it's all combined.

Suddenly I feel the look of the older Black, his body seems to relax a little and returns to his normal color, but his hands are still in fists. He makes a movement with his head towards the door and leaves the great dining room. I don't think twice and also get up to leave, but Regulus's hand stops me.

"Persephone, talk to me, please," He pleads. My sight goes from the door to him several times.

“Later, I will tell you everything, I promise,” I don’t let him answer and let go of his grip.

I almost run out of the great dining room and stop in the hall, looking for Sirius. It doesn't take long for him to come to my side and take my wrist. He pulls me and we both run through the halls until we reach an empty hall.

"What the fuck does this mean?" He says raising the letter the moment he closes the door behind him. I think I left mine on the table. "Why did your parents send me this?"

"Your parents also sent me one, I have no idea," I say in a shaky voice. He growls.

"Union? What the fuck? ”Asks out of his mind. I shake my head walking to the back of the room. I hold my hands as if that could help.

“Marriage," I whisper turning towards him. "They want us to get married when we leave Hogwarts"

"That won't happen," He says mockingly.

“Black, they have done it before. Your parents, their marriage was arranged ”

"And look how that worked"

“My parents also did it, we have no alternative,” If it doesn't happen, I would be dead. I am not exaggerating. Sirius brings his hands to his hair to dishevel it.

"Of course there is an alternative, I don’t intend to get married,” He walks from one side to another like a caged animal, "Isn't it enough to control everything else?" He stops. "No, I refuse, after Hogwarts I will be of an adult, I will leave that house. I won’t marry, specially someone like you. My life would be ruined”

I frown at the last thing he said. I shake my head, it's not time for this. Then he finally looks at me and lets out a wry laugh.

“We have no alternative? Of course, it would be better for you to get married, right? ”

"What is that supposed to mean?" I shift awkwardly in my place.

“Oh, come on, Singh. We get married and money will no longer be a problem, your status will remain intact, lineage and all that nonsense. And you take the jackpot,” He says pointing to himself. Anger now replaces any other emotion in my body.

"Do you think I agree with all this?"

"Surely it was your idea" I approach until I reach a few inches from his face.

“Listen to me, Black. I don't care if your selfish brain can't see beyond your butt, but I can assure you I'm not happy with this news. Why would I want to be with someone as narcissistic, self-centered and idiotic as you? Not in a million years will I be your wife and I doubt anyone would want to be.” I clench my teeth with every word.

Sirius looks at me nervous, apparently he didn’t expect that reaction, I don’t his throat and takes a step back, we are still close.

Why Sirius Black? Of all the people in the world, why him?

Get married? I'm only fifteen years old, I hadn't even thought about it. I am not ready and I will not be ready when I leave school, I simply cannot and less with the person who has hurt me and I am sure that will do it again. I don’t want an unhappy marriage. I don't want one, do I?

Finally, my eyes tear up and I surround my body with my arms.

"We must do something to avoid it," Sirius says in a whisper.

"What?" I observe, "Everything will get worse if I refuse,” I say without thinking, he looks at me confused.

"What do you mean?" I shake my head.

"Forget it,” He seems to realize something.

“I heard something happened at home during the holidays,” He says… shy?

"It's none of your business" He nods uncomfortably.

"Does it have to do with the discussion you had with Juno?"

I can't believe what I'm hearing.

“What do you care, Black? Since when you have so much interest in me? ”

"I don't care, I'm not interested in your life, don't think you’re so important," Sirius snorts like an idiot.

"Then why do you ask?" Before I could answer, the door opens.

"Can I know what are you doing in a room alone?" I roll my eyes at the boy's voice.

“Great," says Sirius also annoyed. “It’s none of your business, Snivellus”

"I guess the normal reaction to seeing the womanizer of the school with the Slytherin princess in a room alone is to ask what happens... especially if she is crying,” Sirius turns to see me surprised and I touch my cheek, I hadn’t realized that the tears had come out. I clean my face in a hurry.

“Nothing happened, Snape. Forget that you saw us and go on with your life, ”I say, fixing my clothes and raising my chin.

"Oh, but this can benefit me," he says maliciously.

"You won't say anything," Sirius says, grabbing him by the shirt. "If you don't want me to break your teeth."

"Stop it, leave it," To my surprise, Sirius obeys. “If he says something, I don't care, nobody will believe him. It's not important"

"There are rumors, Singh," he replies, adjusting his shirt, angry.

“It's just that, Snape. Rumors.” I say and walk to the door, I hit my shoulder with Severus's and leave the room.

After a few minutes walking, I stop at a pillar, I lean on it and breathe.

It feels like I’ve held my breath all this time, my chest hurts just like my head. I want all this to be a nightmare, I want to wake up.

________________________________

"What did you tell your friends to get away with it?" I ask Remus as soon as he gets to my side. Luckily the boy is punctual.

"I told them I would go to the library," he says smiling.

"So late?" He shrugs.

"As soon as I said library his brains turned off, it was easy,” I chuckle.

"Well, where are we going?"

Remus just turns and tells me to follow him. I obey and all the way we don’t talk, we’re careful not to be discovered by Filch and his cat until we reached the seventh floor. The boy stops in front of a wall.

“Remus? It has to be something more private ”

"Close your eyes"

"What?"

“Trust me, Persephone. Close your eyes,” I release a sigh and close them. “Now think about what you need.

"This is absurd," I complain.

"Come on, remember the contract," he insists. "Think about the place you need, imagine what we need to start our classes.”

And I do, I imagine a large room, with shelves and bookcases, armchairs, cushions and a fireplace. Comfort.

"Now open them,” I step back as soon as I see that the smooth wall is replaced by a huge door.

"But- What?" I look at Remus and he smiles.

“Magic," He mocks, opens the door and enters. I laugh and follow him, as I enter I see everything I had imagined and close the door behind me. “Great! It looks like Gryffindor’s common room…”

I bite my lip remembering the time Sirius helped me into his common room in the first year.

“Yes," Is the only thing I can say. After observing everything, we both settled on a carpet in front of the fireplace next to some cushions.

"Well, first, do you have any specific questions?" I frown and look toward the fireplace thinking.

"I know, does being the son of Muggles affect intelligence?" I look at him, now he giggles. "What?"

"Oh, it's for real," he says trying not to laugh again. I feel a stab in my stomach and the shame grows in me.

"It is," I say seriously. And he stops laughing. “All my questions will be serious, Lupin. You don't have to make fun of me.”

Now he is ashamed and blushes.

"You're right, I'm sorry,” He clears his throat. "It has nothing to do with intelligence, Persephone" I nod. "Actually, it has to do with the person, sometimes parents or family members do influence, but it can also happen with people of pure blood"

“Okay…” What else? I thought this would be easier. He notices my conflict.

"Tell me something that bothers your parents, about Muggles.”

“Well, they think they’re inferior, useless, and idiots. We shouldn't get together with them, it's like… as if they had a contagious disease,” He frowns. I sigh, "Once ..." I’m nervous, but he seems calm, "Once, Lily... Lily Evans touched my hand, it was in third year and I went mad,”

I put a hand on my face, what a fool I was.

“Or when she took Ernest Duncan from me and I treated her very badly, I must confess that I convinced him that, being Muggle's daughter, she was going to spread a disease…”

Remus is surprised, but again he smiles.

"She hated Ernest, the boy just wanted to bother James.”

"What? Really?” He laughs nodding and I can't help laughing too. "I'm an idiot. And he didn't kiss well, he was a fool,” Now we laugh harder.

The questions continue, I tell him a little about my family and he answers without hesitation.

Apparently, muggles only see magic as fictional, they have it in books or on... television? Quite strange. We had no order of questions or subject, they were coming out how they occurred to me.

"Can I ask you a question?" He says as I relax leaning on the cushions.

“Sure"

"What happened to you and Sirius at lunch?" I knew he would ask that.

I sigh in defeat.

"I guess it has to do with this," I say as I settle into my place. “…Our parents sent us a letter saying that they already fixed our engagement.”

"Engagement?" He asks insecure.

“Wedding. They want us to get married as soon as we leave Hogwarts,” I feel chills. It’s different when someone else knows.

"It has to be a joke,” His eyes seem bigger.

“That’s what Black said, but no. It is not a joke"

“But how can they do that? They don't even want Sirius, they have no right to control that”

"They have it, he's still a minor and I guess it's the last hope for Sirius to continue with the Black lineage"

"Why do you sound so calm?" Again the lump in the throat.

"I'm not. I already discussed this with him and it was not pretty. I can't do anything, my hands are tied," I say with a broken voice.

"Surely you can do something, you are too young, even in two years, aren’t you supposed to choose who to marry?" I smile.

"Apparently not,” This time I let the tears fall. "You know? I hadn’t thought of that. Getting married. As a girl yes, but just the idea of getting married, everything was nice and exciting,” I let out a sad smile, “but now it terrifies me. I thought that upon leaving school, I would be free, maybe just a year in which I could do what I wanted… I'm afraid of being unhappy and still being a puppet to my father.” I sob.

I feel like Remus approaching, then he surrounds me with his arms and I put my head on his chest and cry.

I cry for the damage that my parents have done to me, of Ares ‘screams, the fight with Jenna, for my friendship with Regulus, for Sirius' words, marriage. I cry like a lost girl.

“I feel trapped, Remus. I feel like I'm about to explode. I’m going to get hurt.”

"I'll help you, Percy," I slowly break apart and look straight into his brown eyes. That nickname was only used by Sirius. "You can change if you ask for help"

"I don't want someone else to get hurt," My lower lip trembles.

"It won’t be easy, but we’ll try" I nod and lean on his chest. He jeeps hugging me in his arms until I calm down.

At that moment Remus Lupin could see the Slytherin princess breaking into a thousand pieces. He knew how the girl felt, or at least he could understand what it’s like to feel afraid and lost. He’d been like this all his life, he didn't want to hurt anyone, but he was afraid to say what really happened to him. Each full moon was a concern that exceeded his mental health.

But everything improved when his three best friends helped, he couldn’t believe he’d learned to tolerate his life. He could never stop being grateful to them.

Therefore, he is now sure that he will help Persephone Singh. Because she doesn't have James Potter, Peter Pettigrew, and lost Sirius Black. That will change, because she’ll have Remus Lupin.

 “I'll help you," He whispered against my hair.

Taglist:

@treestarrrrrrrr @siriuslysirius1107 @thagreenmoonblack @madmaiden2890 @bloodorangemoonlight   @ren-ela @avipshamitra​

[underappreciatedsterek]

UnderappreciatedSterek 2017 Masterpost

I can’t believe it’s been almost a year since I started this blog, or that I’ve managed to rack up a total of 108 recs so far!

Special thanks to @notvirginawoolf for the many recs they sent in over the year, and also to every other person who made a submission. I still have plenty to get around to, so keep an eye out for many more recs to come!

I’ve started the list with some of my personal favourites, with everything under the cut in rec order (sorry in advance for mobile users!) I can guarantee no matter which fic you pick, you’ll find an overlooked gem on the other side.

(I ended up having trouble whenever I exited edit mode when making this post where all the links would disappear. I had to remove some of the author tags to keep them working, but then they disappeared if I used the banner I’d made. So if the links aren’t there when this goes live... I’ll try working on it again T_T If you find any mistakes, please let me know, though I’m honestly loath to touch this again!)

A Bid from Midnight by Zercalo | 5572w | General

Derek’s been holed up in the middle of nowhere for a few months now, so Stiles makes a detour to check up on him. Because Scott is worried. (Scott is not that worried.)

And Pink Shoelaces by LupusScintilla (inkandblade) | 8842w | Mature

It was Derek’s turn. It had to be. He looked at the comm-disc in his hand. Even if he had to debase himself with going to this damned matchmaking service, he was determined to find his mate.

Any Other Name by twobirdsonesong | 979w | General

Stiles just wants to know what he smells like to Derek.

Counting Kisses by carolion | 327w | General

Derek has not kissed anyone in a very long time. But this is the first time he really wants to again.

Dealing with Werewolves by foolish_mortal | 2565w | General

In which Stiles runs away to live with the dragons and meets a werewolf.

In spite of all you knew and said by Azul_Bleu | 2700w | Mature

The road streams behind them, mile upon mile until Stiles can’t say where they even started, and Stiles talks so he won’t have to remember.

Or, Derek and Stiles deal with being the ones left behind. They’re not great at it.

(Set post an imaginary S3, where the Alphas win. Spectacularly.)

i've got someone else in mind by blueinkedbones | 2845w | General

“That’s just a mutual thing we have going on!” Stiles argues. “Like an unspoken arrangement, you know?”

Erica is generally smug at him. Stiles slumps.

“Of love, you’re saying. We have an unspoken arrangement of love, and it’s so unspoken neither of us knows about it.”

Keystone (3-part series) by Chandri / @chandri | 106,961w | Explicit

A world without parents is a lonely, portless world with no safety and no justice - this is a truth Stiles Stilinski learned when he was very young. But at nine years old, at twelve, he couldn’t understand just how true it was; that the powerful, indefinable wrongness that obscured his memories of his mother was more than a child’s sense of unfairness at having his mom taken away.

It’s not until a globetrotting great-aunt blows back into town after a many-years absence that it starts to dawn on him: that his mother’s death was anything but natural; that it was certainly anything but fair.

Reindeer in the (Library) Closet by Rainfallen | 3247w | Teen

Derek just wanted to put the spare network cables away and escape from Erica, not get accosted in the storage closet by a boy wearing the most atrocious Christmas sweater he’s ever seen. On second thought, though, the accosting maybe wasn’t such a bad idea.

The Field by Gimmie | 1625w | General

When he turned back to the field, he zoned in on the sudden appearance of Derek Hale, being led by the hand toward the meadow. He looked hesitant, but the girl was smiling with her head tilted and persuading him, pulling him along. Stiles stopped eating, stopped breathing, and stared as the older boy that he always noticed, as if he had a radar that could detect his presence, was finally led onto the field. The delay was not for lack of trying by the human girls of Beacon Hills High.

the pivot point by subnivean | 461w | General

Don’t be nice to me.

We Pick Ourselves Undone by StilesInTheGlade | 1583w | General

It was a habit, maybe even a compulsion, that Derek noticed in the aftermath of the Nogitsune. Stiles would periodically count off his fingers. One by one, from the thumb of his left hand to the thumb of his right, long fingers ticking as he marked them off, lips silently moving along, one, two, three…

when i look at you (oh, i don't know what's real) by verity | 1304w | Mature

Scott slows his pace during cross-country and falls back from Isaac to join Stiles at the rear of the group. “Hey, have you seen Derek recently?” Scott says, faux-casual like Stiles hasn’t watched him try to lie to their parents since they were five.

“Nope,” Stiles says. “Haven’t seen him in a week.” Unless he counts the Derek he dreams about on the regular, but if Stiles has learned anything from Lydia Martin and his umpteen-year-plan, it’s that the people in your dreams and the people in your reality are never one and the same.

Fuck Me in the Ass Cause I Love Jesus by WriteByNight | 3370w | Mature

Now that Stiles was a college graduate and still living at home, he had decided to help out as the organ player for the duration of the summer. The last organist had unexpectedly kicked the bucket and although there were a few people with more experience than Stiles, no one had the free time that he did so he’d reluctantly accepted the position.

Stiles thought it would put him back in the big guy’s good graces after all the fucking up he’d done as a kid…teen…okay, his entire life.

There wasn’t really another benefit to the arrangement. Stiles didn’t even have a keyboard at home, so he had to come to church every Wednesday and Saturday and practice for the Sunday services. Luckily, some of the more experienced players covered the choir practices for him. Playing and hearing hymns three times a week was more than enough for him.

However, about a week and a half into his time as organist he’d come across another perk. The groundskeeper and maintenance man, Derek Hale.

You’ve got me slippin’ and a slidin’ by ElisAttack / @iamonlydancing | 3683w | General

The snowmobile stutters to a halt on the banks of the river and Derek smiles when he sees a few ravens flying in circles in the distance.  The salmon are here.

“Seems like I’m your lucky charm,”  Stiles says with a wink.

Or the one where Derek lives in the middle of nowhere, and is probably in love with his delivery boy.

The Truth Behind The Pictures by Boy_On_Strings | 7796w | Explicit

Stiles learns to paint. Derek learns something about Stiles.

Ember by heavy_cream | 2825w | Explicit

Sleepy sunday morning sex.

Never Been Kissed by TheLittlestBoho | 2103w | General

Derek and Stiles touch, but they don’t kiss.

"My Wolf-Man" by write_light | 12,935w | Mature

Forest and castle, wolf and man, a vengeful spirit and true love, so much misfortune and so many masks. And a tray full of desserts. How do happy endings work? Prince Stiles, a human; Derek Hale, a werewolf; Talia & the ghost of Derek’s father; Uncle Peter and Evil Aunt Kate; Stiles’ parents, the king and queen.

The Time John Stilinski Learned To Knock by 42hrb / @exhuastedpigeon | 819w | Mature

John Stilinski comes home from a long shift and just wants to relax, then he hears a noise coming from Stiles’ room. (Prompts: 76. “Please put your penis away.”)

Like Immortality by Idday | 4815w | Teen

Dear Derek,

All these words, and what I’m trying to say is simple.

I want to love you like you deserve to be loved. I want to share your triumphs, your burdens, your full moons and your new. I want you to be as sure of my love as you are the phases of the moon.

I want to love you like the moon loves you.

(I told you that one day I would write you a love letter).

…

OR, Stiles and Derek, in letters, through the years.

carry me to love again by nighimpossible | 3000w | Mature

Stiles picks up Derek on the side of the road. Post 3A.

Thin Mints and Meddling by myhomeboy_stilinski | 5388w | Teen

Stiles would be the first person to admit that living in a small town had its drawbacks, with privacy being non-existent and sneaking around near impossible. But there was something to be said about the solidarity and loyalty that filled a close-knit community. People stood up for one another. They contributed and helped. They loved each other. Truthfully, Stiles pitied those who incited the wrath of someone from Beacon Hills.

To Stiles’ eternal gratitude, he had never prompted said wrath.

That is, until he met Derek Hale.

**** The one where the people of Beacon Hills realize that Derek Hale deserves nice things (in case you missed the tags.)

Whiskey Haze by Piscaria | 3221w | Teen

Stiles blinks drunkenly up at the ceiling, wondering who he knows who’s over 21 and a little bit shady.

Stiles had been dreading this day for years.

Leap of Faith by Batwynn | 710w | General

Derek watches his somewhat-friend become weather worn and tired, and thinks, ‘Why Stiles? Why him?’

Okay Will Get Us Through by clotpolesonly / @clotpolesonly | 41,955w | Mature

It was supposed to be a peaceful fucking protest. Stiles heard the first shot loud and clear, though, and was too boxed in to duck, even as his stomach felt like it fell out of his body entirely. For a second all he could think was “Scott is gonna be so mad, I said it would be fine, I promised,” and then he was falling.

First Born Unicorn by dragon-temeraire / @dragon-temeraire | 1982w | General

Something mysterious has returned to the preserve, but for once it’s not dangerous.

Decision by verushka70 | 17,398w | Explicit

Derek goes out to bars wishing he’d never been born and gives himself to almost anyone who wants to take him home. He wets his face in the sweat that runs down men’s chests and doesn’t shower after. Back home, the scents dare Laura to say something. She never does.

Derek grabs her in a quick hug. “I’m fine,” he murmurs, face tucked into her hair, scenting sister, pack, family, love. They both know it’s not true. But she lets it go.

The Devil You Know by verushka70 | 14,629w | Explicit

“So,” Derek says like it’s utterly obvious. (It’s not, it’s totally not). It’s hard to know how to take someone you can’t really read.

His tongue licks between Stiles’ lips like all of this was never in question. Was it? No, not really, because: Derek.

Gut Feeling by Chubstilinski / @chubstilinski | 29,842w | Explicit

Stiles was maybe, possibly, mildly obsessed with his favorite regular, Deputy Derek Hale. But in his defense, Derek seemed just as obsessed with Stiles. Or at least, Stiles’s baked goods, if his appetite for sweets and increasing waistline were anything to go by.

Comfort Drabble by wildwerewolfweirdness | 100w | General

They didn’t get on, Stiles and Isaac.

Happily Ever After by endoftheline7 | 3080w | Teen

The Sheriff finds out about Derek and Stiles, and doesn’t react well. At all. In fact, he ends up asking for the worst.

Family dinner.

Peter Plays The Long Game by HurrahForSmut | 2314w | Teen

She’d almost forgotten Peter, which is always a mistake.

Unchained Melody (2 part series) by swing set in december | 3825w |

Teen

Haunting requires skill and showmanship. Something werewolves will never understand.

Amber by cobrilee | 1283w | Teen

Derek stood by the bar, ostensibly waiting for the bartender to swing by and take his order, but in reality, he couldn’t care less if the bartender ever noticed him. He just wanted to have a legitimate reason to not have to hang out with his friends.  

A Taunting of Ravens to You by keelover | 17,830w | Mature

Stiles, plagued by uncertainty, would like to know whether or not he would be strong enough to survive the bite. Lydia, awake, but not entirely the same after her ordeal, offers him some insight with that tricky moon mirror of hers. And what does Derek think about all of this? The hell if anyone knew.

the wilderness (3-part series) by ceserabeau | 9202w | Explicit

When Stiles pictured Derek’s return to Beacon Hills, he never imagined this: late night in the cereal aisle at the grocery store, Stiles in sweatpants and a shirt long overdue a wash, glancing left from the Captain Crunch and Lucky Charms to find Derek Hale, four feet away, pulling a box of muesli off the shelf.

Lock Me Up by FairydustOnRoses | 3410w | Explicit

Stiles is home for Thanksgiving break. He traveled across the country from Columbia University and is looking forward to spending time with Scott and his dad and stuffing his face on Thursday. He is not looking forward to running into a certain broody werewolf that he may or may not have left in bed after a hookup only hours before he got on the plane to New York back in August.

Swallow by carolion | 469w | Teen

Stiles looks good when he swallows. Derek tells him so.

He’ll bleed you ‘til you’re just bone and skin by ElisAttack | 2236w | Explicit

It’s moments when Stiles feels the dull pull of the bruises on his hips, moments when he can’t sleep on his stomach because the throbbing ache does nothing for a good night’s sleep, it’s those moments that make him feel worthless.

Makes him hate Derek with a passion that burns brighter than anything else he feels.

Or the one where Derek doesn’t know his strength, but Stiles knows he deserves it.

Moon Fever (10-part series) by mytimehaspassed | 30,612w | Mature

Derek moves into Stiles’ old house on a Monday.

Jacket by thatmcbastard (blueb1rd) | 335w | General

Stiles just keeps shivering and looking all vulnerable and pathetic. It’s annoying, alright?

Scream Wolf by grangerinvestigations | 13,966w | Teen

Someone’s taken their love of werewolf movies one step too far.

what in carnation? by haleofStilesheart | 2985w | General

Deliveryman wasn't exactly Derek's dream job but it helped put him through school so he couldn't complain. Especially since it helped him meet the love of his life.

Breathe a Little Easier by Scavenger | 3492w | Teen

Five years ago, he would never have imagined life being this easy, this good.

Take A Breath, Let It Out by northern | 2703w | Teen

Derek can smell the discomfort radiating off of Stiles. What going against his instincts is doing to his sweat and his breath. But as long as Derek can’t smell hesitation, it’s fine. He can deal with Stiles hating himself a little. He can’t deal with having killed Stiles.

We Den Our Hearts Here by LadyLade | 1921w | Teen

Somehow, having a pack of wolf pups has made Derek’s life easier.

Staying by secretagentwolf / @secretagentwolf | 4571w | Teen

Stiles shows up at Derek’s apartment door one day asking to stay. Derek surprises them both by accepting. He does his best to make Stiles feel safe and he doesn’t ask. Eventually, though, Stiles tells him.

This Will Definitely Hurt by write_light | 285w | General

That time when Stiles pulled a back muscle and Derek and the Sheriff had a (thankfully not literal) pissing match about how to take care of him. (est. relationship, Sheriff knows)

Seven Wonders by dadvans / @dadvans | 2988w | General

Stiles sees Beacon Hills through ancient parallels. Derek thinks he’s cursed.  

The Amazing Part Is by TroubleIWant / @troubleiwant | 2407w | General

You’re in love with a beautiful boy, and the amazing part is that he loves you back. He’s all dark honey eyes and buttermilk skin, moles down his neck that he lets you kiss and kiss again. He’s all sharp laughter and too wide sweeps of his arms, and it’s been ten months but you’re not thinking about your first anniversary, you’re thinking about forever.

and in your hand a skeleton key by faerielissa | 5474w | Teen

How was it that, of everyone from home, besides his dad of course, he missed Derek the most?

Find Me Sitting Fireside by kaistrex | 13,282w | Teen

With the news that an Alpha wants Beacon Hills for their own, Derek and Stiles are forced to attend a couples retreat at a ski resort to learn their enemy’s identity. However, the threat is the least of Derek’s problems when he’s expected to fake a relationship, share a bed and suffer through candlelit dinners with the man he’s secretly been in love with for the past four years.

At Least Our Theme Song Rocks by Deviousness_Carter | 907w | Teen

After years of being a technician, Stiles finally passes his field exam and gets to save the world. Unfortunately, he gets neither a mask nor a tux.

punitive acts by subnivean | 3881w | Explicit

Two idiots, both alike in indignity, or something, whatever.

Let Me Catch Your Laughter Upon My Tongue by monopolizeme | 1295w

| Teen

Stiles doesn’t laugh.

It’s not something that Derek has ever put much thought into before, because he’s never had a reason to focus on something that’s never been there before. But Stiles doesn’t laugh – he snarks with sly lips and snorts in indignation when he thinks that he’s heard something completely foolish and he huffs out a noise of victory when he succeeds at something but Stiles doesn’t laugh.

Laura Was Right by Sheepnamedpig | 1446w | Explicit

The first and last time Derek and his ghost boyfriend ever have sex in front of a mirror.

(I Will) Remember Your Name by saraubs | 1088w | Mature

Forced onto the sands to pay for his crimes against the Empire (also see: avenging his family), Derek just fights to unleash the anger, not caring if he lives or dies. Well, that is, until he comes face to face with a certain smart-mouthed body slave, and finds there are still some things worth fighting for.

I Know by Nival_Vixen / @nivalvixen | 1050w | Mature

Stiles has lost himself, he’s drowning, and he doesn’t know if he’ll make it back up to the surface.

The - Mistake by kaistrex | 504w | General

Four-year-old Derek mistakes Sheriff Stilinski for his mate.

That's Where It Is by LupusScintilla (inkandblade) | 22,815w | Mature

At twenty-two, the age of a Master-Builder according to the Number Law the Elder Council used, Derek was at the perfect age to break away from his family’s over extended pack and construct his own. As with all Alphas ready to take that step, he needed a Mate: no pack could be led by only one mind.  

This Must Be What Going Mad Feels Like by LadyLade | 902w | Teen

Then Derek twitches, sees Scott looking at him, and glares. “What?” he snarls.

Does…does Derek look a little guilty?

Oh Jesus. This is not happening.

-

Teen Wolf kink meme prompt: Holy shit, Scott thinks, horrified. Because Derek isn’t staring creepily at some unidentified point in the distance. Derek is staring at his best friend’s ass.

Know Thy Worth (2-part series) by Ishtar12 / @mommalosthermind | 15,983w | General

His Dad’s been snatched by a rival pack. His first kiss with Derek anchored his magic, sealed him to the pack, and maybe even Derek himself. Stiles has no idea what’s going on in his life right now, and less time to figure it out.

Day 4: On a date by starkology (jawnwatson) | 501w | General

Stiles and Derek try to go on a date.

With You (You'll Find Me) by CigarettesandCider / @kieren-fucking-walker | 1993w | Teen

“I need a fic of Stiles leaving Beacon Hills to find Derek because he can’t deal with that town and it’s people anymore. I want Derek doing some grocery shopping and then Stiles scent hits him hard and he just kinda whimpers and follows it till he finds Stiles there looking at him. I want Derek asking Stiles how did he find him and Stiles just shrugs and says he had a feeling. I want Stiles following Derek to his car when Derek tilts his head motioning to the parking lot because they don’t need words. And then finally when they’re inside Derek’s little apartment (there’s nothing fancy about it but it’s homey and there are pictures of Cora and him on the walls) Stiles finally crumbles and Derek just holds him.”

Meddling Ghosts by haipanda / @haihaipanda | 1837w | General

Stiles would like to remind everyone that he is not crazy and he does not see hallucinations. The fact that no one else can see ghosts is really not his fault and the rest of the world could be a bit more understanding.

Corpse Flower by Spikedluv / @spikedluv | 2253w | Teen

Stiles thinks that having sex with Derek will make him less distracting.

Lightsabers and Leverage by SourwolfSymphony | 581w | Teen

Stiles avoids studying for exams by calling Derek to rant about Star Wars; he doesn’t realize it’s 3am. Derek is worried and displeased.

REASONS I WOULD DATE DEREK HALE by Idday | 7284w | Teen

When Stiles moves back to Beacon Hills after college, he pretty much immediately decides to convince Derek Hale to date him.

Unfortunately for him, it seems as though they’re not on the same page. Like, Derek thinks Stiles hates him (and apparently, so does everybody else). And surprisingly, none of Stiles SUPER ROMANTIC (screw you, Scott) plans to woo Derek seem to be working. Probably because Derek still thinks Stiles is making fun of him. Or something.

But Stiles is nothing if not stubborn. He’s going to win Derek over. No matter what.

His 10 point lists are definitely going to help (no matter what Lydia says).

Get Me With Those Green Eyes, Baby by penlex | 2110w | Teen

Stiles wakes up alone, but that’s okay because he has to go to school anyway. Right. It’s totally fine.

“What’s your problem, Stilinski?” Jackson barked, right when Stiles blurted, “I feel like my life’s soundtrack is made up of Taylor Swift hits.”

Nightcall by oldestcharm / @oldestcharm | 3086w | General

Getting as far away from Beacon Hills as humanly possible is much easier when you have supernatural friends… acquaintances… err, something.

Can't Control Myself by JueJueBahn | 10,940w | Explicit

Stiles is showering innocently but then omg a wild Derek appears and might or might not be intoxicated with weird supernatural stuff.

This Was How Legends Were Made by Delta_Immortal | 108,501w | Explicit

Caught between the Hales and the Argents in their war, Stiles finds himself a slave of the great Hale pack. Stiles spends each day working hard, hoping to earn his freedom and see his sick father. It also seems each day he’s capturing more and more attention from Derek, the young Hale lord. Stiles tells himself it’s mostly because Derek is merely trying to figure out how to send the annoying, useless slave away- not because of affection, despite the tales coming from the rumor mill.

It doesn’t matter what Derek’s intentions are. Stiles can’t bother with love right now. He’s got to keep his head down and survive long enough to keep his promise to Kate Argent. After all, she’s promised to keep his father safe.

Occasionally Domestic (Series) by Little Spoon (JaydenNara) | 36,523~w | Explicit

The day of graduation, Stiles left Beacon Hills behind when he hopped into Derek’s car and never looked back. He’s living in New York with Derek and attending Columbia University on a partial scholarship. Only, no one seems to realize that Derek and Stiles are very much together, and sickeningly happily so, because that had never been on anyone’s radar.

(or – Stiles and Derek, occasionally domestic.)

No Filter by kaistrex | 1213w | Teen

When Derek was hired to photograph some up-and-coming novelist for his book jacket, he was expecting someone stuffy, middle-aged and, well, bookish.

That’s not what he gets. At all.

Beacon Gills by kitsunequeen | 4226w | Teen

When Stiles accompanies Scott on a trip to his uncle’s beach house, he gets more than he bargained for after running into a pack of mermaids with a particularly attractive leader…

Last Word by Sheepnamedpig | 953w | Explicit

Someone is wrong on the internet.

Bravado by orphan_account | 3545w | Explicit

Something good finally happens to Derek Hale.

(Spoiler alert: that something is Stiles.)

Put a spell on me please? by ssleif | 3154w | Explicit

Derek has a dilemma, and figures Stiles, sneaky clever Slytherin that he is, might be able to help. Or: Teenage wizards having an illicit first-time rendezvous while their dorm mates are elsewhere.

Gnashing Teeth and Criminal Tongues (conspire against the odds) by

LadySlytherin | 14,269w | Mature

When Stiles mouths off to the wrong set of witches, he finds himself unable to control his tongue around a certain alpha werewolf. As Stiles struggles with the lesson the witches want him to learn, he knows it’s only a matter of time until the truth comes out. It always does.

Tie [taɪ] by LupusScintilla (inkandblade) | 5164w | Mature

Unable to talk his way out of attending the Wordsmith’s Masquerade, Derek thinks he’ll have to suffer through in silence. Luckily, someone else is there to do the talking for him.

Everything to Destruction by MajorAccent | 559w | Teen

Potentially evil. Potentially good. Just this huge powerful potentiality waiting to be shaped.

Wooden Smiles, Raging Sea by dedougal | 3466w | Mature

Stiles had no idea where the black smoke had come from and he had a feeling he really didn’t want to know.

Make us laugh (or nothing will) by rohkeutta | 31,005w | Teen

When Derek Hale left Beacon Hills at 18 to become a kickboxing champion, he thought he would never return. But here he is, seven years later: trying to salvage something from the ruins of his life, eighteen months after the house fire that killed his parents and left him limping and without a future. Enter Stiles, a college dropout Derek might or might not have been friends with in high school, and the unexpected interest he manifests towards the love of Derek’s life.

The Theory of No Control by howl-to-the-wind (greenleaf) | 27,989w |

Mature

“–kick your scrawny butt all over the Muertes Archipelago, Bilinski! Get out of there or I will feed you to a Stegosaurus!”

“First of all, having me come out from here and then tossing me to the dinos kinda defeats the purpose of it all, since I already am in a dinosaur cage. Second, Stegosauruses are herbivores, which means they will definitely pass on biting my rear end. And third, my butt is not scrawny, though I didn’t know you were even looking, Coach. I’m flattered.”

“BILINSKI!!”

Derek groaned. “Oh no.”

“Oh, yes.” Scott grinned. He ran off, no doubt excited to watch his reckless best friend and cheer him on. He was such a damn enabler.

trick or treat (say something sweet) by dyobrienz (Muffintine) | 2712w |

General

“And,” Bat Kid sniffles, “a werewolf stole my candy, mommy – a werewolf!”

or: Three Halloweens from Derek’s perspective. Past, Present, Future.

Haleoween by redhoodedwolf | 6952w | Teen

“So what are you looking to get?” he inquired.

“Alright, well, the theme I’m going for is Badass Little Red Riding Hood.”

Derek arched an eyebrow, not judgingly, but curiously. “Interesting. Skirt and all?”

Stiles’ cheeks flushed at the joke. “Pfft, nah, not for this one.” Derek’s face flushed at that.

temporary tattoos make meaningful love tokens by Siriusstuff | 2126w |

General

Trick-or-treating with young Stiles, Scott, Derek and his sisters.

The Best Thing Since Peanuts by phlossie | 2042w | Teen

At this moment in time though, with gyrating attractive people who were not even remotely interested in gyrating in his vicinity also pretending he didn’t exist, Stiles felt that maybe the several month long moratorium should come to an end.

At least that way they could be miserable together.

Spell It Out For Me by chubstilinski | 14,766w | Explicit

But now Stiles was, well. He was fat. Not extremely so, just a little chubby, really, but it was exaggerated, every curve highlighted by the tightness of clothes made for a slender body. His Clark Kent slacks clung to thick thighs and cut into his hips. A substantial belly and small muffin top spilled over the waistband, stretching the buttons on his clean shirt. Derek could see the swell of his chest where the Superman logo peeked out from the undone top buttons, and he felt like he was going crazy. Stiles was gorgeous.

Or, on Halloween, Stiles gets jinxed by a hoodoo practitioner into gaining weight very rapidly. Derek thinks it’s sexy. Stiles thinks Derek is sexy. Shenanigans ensue.

Tricky to Treat by khasael | 2524w | Mature

Stiles loves Halloween. Derek hates it. Luckily, Stiles has a plan.

who nursey says is dead by demonicweirdo | 6357w | Mature

“I’m fine,” Stiles mutters, gritting his teeth through the searing pain. The hand pressed to his neck comes away drenched in blood. “Maybe not. I’m going to die here, in this shitty house, on Halloween.”

Haunted by kitsunequeen | 436w | General

First thing’s first, Derek is a liar.

1) Stiles is absolutely not afraid.


2) He did not shriek. He may have gasped, like, once. 


3) Clinging to Derek’s arm is in no way an indication of fear. He just really loves his boyfriend, okay? Really really. And his arm is comfortable to hold on to. That is all.

Rescue my cat from me by Hepzheba | 897w | General

Firefighter Derek has to retrieve a cat from a tree. He’d rather ogle the cat’s owner, despite the ridiculous sweater said owner is wearing.

Halloween by MissDizzyD | 903w | Teen

Stiles and Derek spend Halloween night watching horror films and dishing out candy.

Hallowe'en at Hale's! by lunaraindrop | 635w | General

After months of not hearing from Derek, Stiles decides to throw a Halloween Party at Derek’s loft. Could Stiles have ulterior motives besides dressing up and dancing?

Garbage Bag Ghosts by twisting_vine_x | 759w | General

This is literally just Stiles and Derek being dorky boyfriends and decorating for Halloween.

One Of These Days by dedougal | 552w | Teen

Stiles knows he shouldn’t just walk in on Derek. Anyway, Derek should hear him coming.

It Takes Time by kingandmoon | 3585w | Teen

He had no job, his pack had scattered for college, and he paid the delivery guy extra to unload all his food into his kitchen. So really, what was the point?

Take-out Turkey Day by captaintinymite (augopher) | 3071w | Teen

Graduate Student Stiles Stilinski is  alone as he studies in New York- well, aside from his only friend in the City. Derek lives in the same apartment building, and circumstances mean they will both be spending Thanksgiving alone. When Derek suggests they spend it together, Stiles jumps on the idea.

The only problem? Neither one of them can cook.

a fable of some sort by thatworldinverted / @thatworldinverted | 5706w | Explicit

Stiles isn’t stupid. He knows something’s wrong with him, something rotten at the core like an apple in a fairytale.

He just doesn’t care. Not as long as he has Derek, as long as he can look up from the knife and the steel table and meet wolf-bright eyes and red-tipped claws.

And I Promise You Kid, I'll Give So Much More Than I Get by nerdyderekhale | 4855 | General

Stiles and Derek have been roommates for years, friends for longer. When Derek decides to bring Christmas spirit to Stiles for a change, unintentional wooing leads to Christmas confessions.

A Modern-Day Christmas Carol by Peasantaries | 2876 | Teen

Derek Hale is an adult: he doesn’t drink beverages with the title ‘Christmas Cookie Latte.’ 

Catahoula by zjofierose | 6761 | Teen

A late flight, an ESL Uber driver, and a simple mistake are all it takes for Stiles to have his most… memorable… Christmas yet. 

New Traditions by baneofawolf (InTheArmsofaThief) | 4576 | General

Stiles fiddled with his phone, absently closing and reopening the same app over and over. He’d been thinking about this day for months. Well, for years, if he was being honest with himself, but the actual plan for this actual day had only started forming a few months ago. He’d been thinking about this ever since he found out where Derek was. 

No Objections For Stiles by kaistrex | 2168 | General

While fighting a witch on Christmas Eve, Derek and Stiles end up stuck in a snow globe. Deaton says it should take a few days to wear off, but perhaps there’s another solution… 

all I want for Christmas (is you) by BansheeLydia | 647 | Teen

Stiles just wants to get home in time for Christmas.

Lover's Eyes by yodasyoyo / @yodas-yo-yo | 3792 | Teen

Derek has a complicated relationship with Christmas at the best of times, Stiles may be the one person who can make it better. or Five Christmas Days over the years told from Derek’s POV

[happy-meo]

Save Me. (Yoongi x Reader) PART 10 FINALE

“It swallowed me, this lunatic. Please save me tonight. Within this childish madness, you will save me tonight.” - [“Save Me” - BTS]

Summary: It was an unprecedented love that bloomed within the halls of your high school, until secret words were overheard, and shattered the budding romance. It changed your life forever, leading you down a path you had never thought you would be on– training to become a secret agent. You chose it to escape Yoongi and the results of how things ended between you two, but as fate would have it, that very same choice ended up leading you right back to him. Will you be able to save your clients and solve mysteries together despite your history? Will you be able to save each other? Will you able to save yourself…from yourself?    

Yoongi x Reader (ft. Jin & all the other BTS members)

Secret Agent AU

Mystery, Action, Angst, & Fluff (contains some violence, mentions of murder, death, harassment, and bullying)

PARTS: Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 (Finale) | Bonus: The Letter

A/N: FINALLY THE FINALE! Wow, this has been one of my longest series...I honestly didn’t think it would grow to be this long, but thank you so much for giving my first mystery fic so much love <3 and for waiting so patiently for each update through tough work weeks and vacations that delayed them. I appreciate each and every one of you! I LOVE YOU! I hope you enjoy ~

           "Yoonji. Y/N's disappeared."

           Prez's call had turned Yoongi's entire being icy, despite being drenched in sweat from basketball practice. Without another word, he had rushed to the library where he currently had Prez's neck in a death grip, fuming despite his insides churning at the feeling of being so damn close, only to have you slip out of his fingertips once again.

           "Why is it that you're always around when these things happen?" he growled dangerously, ready to dig his fingers into the very pressure points that could immobilize the man in front of him.

           Surprisingly, Prez seemed unfazed by the current situation, as if he had assumed this was how his call would result.

           "Look. I was just going to visit her. The Librarian said she was here so I went to her usual spot, but I only found her empty backpack and blazer lying around." Prez explained.

           "I don't trust you." Yoongi flared. "Where are her things? She always has that damn book with her and her notebook. Her things should still be here. WHERE ARE HER THINGS?!"

           "I'm really not sure what you're talking about." Prez frowned. "I thought we could spend less time fighting, and you know, more time trying to find out where she went again."

           Yoongi shoved him forcefully to the side, and grabbed your, as Prez had stated, barren backpack. He rummaged through it. There was no way you wouldn't have protected your things, and to any random person, it would just be a book and a notebook of scribbles, nothing important.

           "If I find out you took her." Yoongi snarled as he puffed his chest out. Although he was smaller than Prez, he had a more fiery, intimidating aura once his anger was set ablaze. And it surely was at this point.

           "I promise you, Yoonji." Prez stared at him intently. "I didn't."

           Yoongi stomped out of the library with your things, his mind reeling and his heart thumping against his chest. They had been one step ahead of them again.

           Immediately, he was pulled into Jimin's office roughly as he passed by it. On the defensive, Yoongi pulled a knife out from his sleeve and placed it against the neck of whoever had dared to touch him.

           "It's me." Jimin whispered with his hands up innocently. "Please calm down, Yoongi. You're not supposed to suspect anything. You're unrelated to the disappearances, remember?"

           "How the fuck am I supposed to calm down? They got us again! They took her before she was debriefed on the plan! We don't even know where and who this person is. How are we supposed to find her?!"

           Suddenly, Jungkook emerged from the shadows and slammed his fist across Yoongi's face, surprising Jimin who only stared blankly at the sudden turn of events.

           "Y/N would tell you to shut up with your whining, hyung." Jungkook frowned.

           Yoongi breathed as he clutched his cheek, and looked up from the ground, where Jungkook's attack had sent him. Luckily, the abnormally strong bohemeth had held back or else he might've been a couple of offices down with concrete impaled in his ribs. But nonetheless, it was the blow he needed to bring himself back from his initial panic. He was a secret agent. Nothing ever went according to plan, but that didn't mean they had lost. This wasn't a new occurrence. Jungkook was right. He could see the faint image of your disapproval about his behavior.  

           "Thanks." he sighed as the two helped him back on his feet. "I just...we saw the end...and I felt like it was snatched from us. How are we going to draw out the culprits now?"

           Jimin bit his lip. "There's someone who can."

           Yoongi blinked, confused. "Who?"

           Jimin smiled nervously as he played with the hems of his sleeves. "Well...come with me then...."

           He pressed a button under his desk, and one of the tiles shifted downwards, revealing a staircase. Yoongi's eyes widened as he glanced at Jimin, stunned.

           "What the hell is this?"

           "Well, it was a secret base at first, but now it's a recovery unit." Jimin shrugged as he gestured for the two to follow him.

           "Recovery? For who?" Yoongi questioned as they began their descent.

           "He just woke up before we got news of Y/N being taken again." Jimin placed his hand on the keypad to allow them access.

           "WHO?!" Yoongi urged. "Park Jimin, stop stalling and--"

           He froze his steps as he spotted the body in the middle of the room, lying down uncomfortably on a slab of marble stone. If Jimin hadn't specified it was a recovery room, he would've thought he had walked into a sacrifice ritual or a burial mound.

           "Is...is that--?"

           Jimin smiled and nodded, as he moved towards the body that had too many wires attached to it.

           "Science Teacher?" Yoongi breathed as he closed the distance hesitantly. "H-how?"

           "When Y/N found him and asked the Librarian to take him to me, I immediately could tell his symptoms were due to slow enacting poison. It was my forte in university." Jimin grinned proudly as he injected a serum into the tubes. "So I took bloodwork and gave him an antidote accordingly, but I knew it wouldn't be enough to save him. We needed time to detoxify his body, but we didn't have the luxury when someone wanted to do him in. If the poison didn't act at the right time then they would've killed him another way. So I gave him another medication, which I told him to take whenever he felt he was in the most danger, and that it would temporarily cause his bodily functions to slow down to the point of being convincingly dead."

           "You had him fake his death...in order to keep him alive?" Yoongi clarified.

           "More or less, yes. I was the one who checked his pulse anyways. The others were in on the plan, but we needed you and Y/N to act convincingly, so we kept it under wraps. We didn't even know if the plan would actually work either. The killer could've gotten to him before he could drink the pill or could've gotten the body before it was found. So many things could've gone wrong, and we didn't want you and Y/N acting out of the ordinary."

           "But it worked..." Yoongi breathed as he watched the liquid disappear into the Science Teacher's veins. He flinched a little when the man's eyes fluttered open.

           "Yeah. He only has 25% of the poison left in his body now. The poison had consumed him at 85% when he began showing signs. It was seriously a close call." Jimin exhaled.

           "How would he help us find the culprit though?" Yoongi raised an eyebrow then glanced over at Jungkook who was shifting around Jimin's furniture, probably as some sort of workout.

           "Someone that he trusted gave him the sleeping pills, and those pills contained small traces of poison so..." Jimin started.

           "Whoever gave him the pills must be directly related to the killings." Yoongi breathed.

           "Exactly." Jimin grinned proudly.

           "Can he talk?"

           "Um well let's see." Jimin grabbed the Science Teacher's hand, causing him to turn his attention away from Yoonji to Jimin.

           "We want to stop these killings." Jimin squeezed reassuringly. "Can you tell us...if you remember...who had prescribed the sleeping pills to you?"

           Science Teacher weakly nodded and gestured to the oxygen mask over his mouth, most probably hindering him from being audible. Yoongi gulped in anticipation as Jimin pulled the mask off carefully.

           "The sleeping pills..." The Science Teacher's voice was hoarse, almost a whisper. "...they were given to me by... the Counselor."

           Jungkook dropped the table gently, but the sound still caused Jimin and Yoongi to flinch, startled. With large, worried eyes, they glanced at each other.

           The Counselor was involved this entire time.

           Yoongi pressed his earpiece a few seconds later, after his shock dissipated. "Get a tracer on the Counselor, stat. Someone monitor him at all times. He's one of the keys to finding Y/N."

           "Thank you." Jimin's lips curled up warmly as placed the oxygen mask back on the Science Teacher, and once again, sleep overcame the elder.

           When you came to this time, you weren't at all surprised that you were in a different location. You remembered vividly what you had discovered, and the unexpected events that occurred afterwards.

           "Ah... awake now?" A familiar voice drawled.

           You chuckled as you were once again bound by your hands and feet. "Why? Going to drug me again?"

           "Not surprised, hm?" Counselor stepped into the light. "Good thing I decided to act sooner than we had planned."

           You glared at him.

           "Come now, Y/N. Let's not make such an aggressive face among friends." Counselor waved his hand with a chuckle

           "I don't remember ever becoming friends with you." You spat.

           "Oh?" He feigned being hurt. "Maybe taking a look around my room will help you jog your memory."

           You furrowed your brow, but took the time to scan the room. Nothing seemed out of place. A typical comfortable lair... then your eyes fell on the wall of framed pictures. You gasped at the realization as you spotted his high school portrait atop the others.

           Counselor spun around with a smirk on his face, now donned with similar glasses he had worn in the past.

           "It's good to see you again...my dear dumpster lunch buddy." he disclosed.

           Your mouth dried up at the recollection, that he...that you two...you knew him. You had seen him countless of times, but hadn't truly seen him.

           At the peak of your bullying, he was there beside you.

           You hadn't been the lone target. Another boy from your class-- you couldn't remember his name at all, but maybe because you had never cared to find out what it was-- he was one of the quiet ones who used to hang out with the popular boys and he often ate behind the adjacent dumpster in hiding with you.

           You had glanced at each other, but had never spoken a word. Even though you both were on the same boat, he would leave you if you got caught first and in turn, you did the same to him. Every day had solely focused on survival, and your heart had hardened and turned cold through your experiences. You two, who had both been pressured to the lowest of low together, instead of sticking together for solace, had chosen to betray each other.

           And it all made sense.

           His purpose, the root of his crazed obsession with vengeance and justice...for how long had he lived with such a warped mentality?

           "Oh my god..." You whispered, flabbergasted.

           "It's okay, I didn't recognize you right away either. Not until I truly watched you get bullied. I had watched your helpless look too many times in high school to forget."

           You shivered.

           "Who would've thought...someone from high school would make an appearance?" Counselor chuckled as he knelt in front of you.

           Now you had a full view of his crazed look that had been masked by his usually calm, gentle demeanor. "You of all people should understand how it is for people who are the victims. So I left you alone. I thought you could be our mascot, our role model, our queen-- the epitome of grace as we burned those undeserving creatures to the ground to start anew. I even warned you several times not to stray, to stay how you are, who you are. But you didn't listen." He brandished a knife skillfully in front of you, and you instinctively gulped. You were weaponless this time. "Betraying us is a serious offense, Y/N."

           Despite being in imminent danger, you couldn't help wondering: would things have been different if you had reached out to him, instead of being selfish and self-absorbed in your own pitiful state? Would things have been different if you had become friends with him? Would you not have had to move? Would he have lived his life without such hatred and wickedness? Would all the victims... still be alive?

           Prez watched Yoonji emerge from Jimin's office curiously. The two glanced in his direction, and he immediately flattened himself against the wall.

           "Prez is watching you two." Jungkook revealed through their earpieces, back in his hiding place. "Should I get rid of him?"

           Yoongi shook his head. "Keep an eye on him too. I know he has something to do with this case. He can stare at my ass as much as he wants. If he comes one inch within my breathing space, I will end him."  

           "You always talk tough, Yoongi, but you never do it." Hoseok snorted into the earpiece.

           "Shut up." Yoongi rolled his eyes. "We need to regroup and think of a plan. We need to act the latest, tomorrow night."

           Hold on for that long, Y/N.

           Luckily for you, Counselor only meant to threaten you, but promised he wouldn't put you in harm's way. He said he had more plans for your future, and you didn't want to conceive what his outrageous mind was planning. But for the time being, his fondness over the symbolism he thought you could become bought you time. However, it didn't bring you a sense of security, so you kept your eyes peeled, monitoring the guards, assessing the layout of the room, thinking of various ways to make your escape.

           And then, as soon as the blanket of night fell, you were ready.

           Unbeknownst to those guarding you, you had continuously applied friction to the cloth that was binding you. Clearly, they were unprepared for the possibility of someone trying to escape, as the threads of the cloth thinned and scattered in no time, but you remained still with bated breath, praying none of them would notice.

           When the lights dimmed and the sunlight faded, you tugged, finally releasing the cloth where it was straining. Before they could turn on the lights, you undid your ankles, and disappeared from your spot. The guards were frazzled and flustered by your disappearance, unable to fathom your magic act. You took their confusion and gained the upper hand, disarming the closest guard to your location, and immediately shooting the others adjacent to him. Hurriedly, you kicked off the column you had been bound to as leverage and whipped your foot around right into another guard's face. You began skillful hand-to-hand combat, grabbing various weapons from their hold to enhance your non-existent ammunition.

           One guard tried to escape, probably to warn or call others, but you couldn't have that. You chucked a knife across the way, and it instantly settled itself into his side. Grinning, you felt the rush of battle once again. You had been sitting idly for far too long. Clicking off the safety, you held two guns, aiming at the last two unarmed guards with a satisfied smirk.

           "I think I'll have to gracefully say goodbye now."

           Before you could pull the trigger though, you heard a voice that sent shivers up your spine.

           "I don't think you want to finish what you're doing."

           It sounded like the Counselor, but the tone...it wasn't. You knew exactly who it was. You clutched the gun tighter in your hand as the Counselor's twin emerged from the shadow of the entrance.  

           "My dear, dear Y/N. I knew you would be trouble." he chuckled as he nonchalantly strolled into the room. "I told my brother to just kill you. You knew far too much, were sticking your nose too deeply into matters that didn't pertain to you."

           "We've talked before." You realized as you gritted your teeth. "The most recent time at your office."

           "Yes." he smiled. "I almost showed my frustrations back then."

           Your breathing began to get heavier. "Were you the shadow in the library?"

           He nodded, not at all surprised that you had put two and two together.

           "That's why it looked like no one had left the school grounds." You mumbled.

           "You also met my brother on his way to meet me in town. I was giving him the new supply of medication for the Science Teacher." He continued to lightly take a turn about the lair. "We were supposed to meet the Science Teacher before Mr. Park's welcome party, but we couldn't leave because you and Mr. Kim were running around town. We couldn't get discovered."

           "And you moved the bodies around while both of you had perfect alibis at being at a certain place." You exhaled. It was perfect.

           "Brilliant, isn't it?"

           "But weren't you mutilated in a bad gang fight?" You whispered.

           He cackled. "I was the one who found my own 'body', so I touched whatever film they had used to get fingerprints and switched it out with the one they actually took off the body. We messed up the body so bad that his face couldn't even be reconstructed. It was the perfect fake death. It earned us the loyalty of the said gang...killing off their boss."  

           The guards tried to step back, but you knocked them out with the handle of your weapon, then immediately focused the guns towards the Twin angrily.

           "You did all the killing." You realized.

           His lips curled up triumphantly. "I'm more of an action guy, while my brother was the brains."

           "You son of a --" Your hand was about to pull the trigger when he held up a button.

           "Like I said, I don't think you want to shoot." he grinned mischievously.

           "Why not?" You hissed.

           "This..." he glanced at the button in his hand. "...detonates bombs that were placed throughout the entire school."

           "Quit shitting me." You furrowed your brow.

           He walked to the monitor with ease, knowing confidently that you wouldn't shoot since there was a chance he was telling the truth; you wouldn't risk it. He pulled up several cameras placed around the school, and he narrowed them down to show off the various bombs that had truly, in fact, been kept hidden within the campus. Your grip faltered.

           "All we ask is that you sit and wait prettily until we do what we need to. If you continue to resist and try to interfere with our plan, then we will just blow up everybody."

           "E-everybody?" You stammered.

           He pulled up a specific screen, which caused you to gasp, recognizing it immediately as your dormitory hallway.

           "We planted a very special bomb here, just for you." he grinned. "I wonder when your precious roommate will come back home."

           Your hold loosened, and you dropped the gun, frustrated. They still had the advantage in this game.

           "Good girl." he cooed. "Guards, the chains."

           A whole new squadron of guards was at the door within seconds, holding thick chains in their arms. Your posture slumped, realizing they had expected your attempt at escaping all along.

           "Tie her back up."

           Hurriedly, you subtly pulled something out of your back pocket, and blew it towards the Twin while his head was turned. Then you exhaled and let the guards once again attach you to the column, praying that Yoongi and the others had a plan.

           A knock was heard on Yoongi's dorm door. Everyone slipped into the shadows as Yoongi threw on his wig to answer the door. Peeking out, he raised an eyebrow skeptically as he was met with Prez.

           "What do you want? I told you not to show your face near me."

           "Can I come in?"

           Yoongi glanced around before stepping back to let him enter anyway. He mentally cursed as he envisioned Hoseok snickering at him once again.

           "I want in." Prez dropped his backpack on the kitchen counter.

           "In what?"

           "I want in on this rescue mission." he stated firmly.

           Yoongi squinted his eyes. "I don't know what you're talking about."

           Prez sighed, and rolled up his sleeves. "Scan me."

           "Excuse me?"

           "Scan me." he urged.

           "No thank you. Creep." Yoongi backed away.

           Prez sighed, but he straightened his posture and stated firmly, "Special Agent Park Bogum of Big Hit Agency, requesting for a temporary co-op with Special Agent Min Yoongi and his team to rescue Special Agent Y/N."

           Yoongi's mouth hung open. "Say what?"

           "Oh my gosh." Jimin stepped out of the shadows, gasping. "Sunbae-nim?"

           Prez smiled.

           "Wait, what is happening?" Yoongi shook his head. "How does he know me? How do you know him? Sunbae-nim?"

           Jimin hurriedly scanned Prez's wrist with his watch, and needless to say the insignia of Big Hit was present on his skin, which was a mark only visible and known to those who were part of the agency. It was a special code to weed out those posing to be agents from real ones, to recognize friend from foe.

           His stats and information appeared as a hologram emitting from Jimin's watch, and Yoongi moved closer to read.

           "You...you went to the same training sect as Y/N..." The realization dawned on Yoongi. "You knew her this whole time?"

           Prez shrugged. "She was quite famous even as a freshman. There wasn't a student at our uni who didn't know of the girl who achieved a perfect score on the entrance exam, and continued to be at the top of her class. I recognized her immediately and knew I could trust her. Of course, I didn't exactly know who her partner was and who was part of her team or not...so...it took me awhile to come here. And I had kept her things safe, just in case."

           He lay down her phone, the novel, and her notebook on the counter.

           "I knew you took it, you thief." Yoongi hissed, but averted his eyes, no real bite to his comment.  

           "But you're 2 years our sunbae...we've only heard of your name since you were the most recent one from our university to take 1 of the 2 Special Agent spots but... why're you here?" Tae also emerged, followed by the others.

           Prez exhaled. "I was sent here on a different mission prior to the killings. The court system requested our aid in finding incriminating evidence against guilty parties of the staff in this school. Some, as you've probably realized, ended up as victims, but our main target was the Principal. Needless to say though, the murders interfered with our investigation. So eventually we were ordered to switch objectives, and capturing the murderer became our priority..."

           "But...why are you here alone?" Tae blinked and glanced around, as if expecting someone new to pop out of the darkness. "Where's your partner?"

           Prez smiled sadly.

           Yoongi's eyes widened, the missing links clicking together. "Your partner was your VP, wasn't she?"

           Prez nodded.

           "But aren't you supposed to be relieved of your duties once you lose your partner? You're still allowed to do the mission?" Namjoon questioned.

           "My team complied with the rules, but I, on the other hand, went rogue, despite being called back to the agency. I just couldn't leave things unfinished and unsettled here. But I was stripped of my gadgets, my weapons, and my ability to get inside information, and that's why I had to rely on my own resources to piece things together. And thankfully, when I thought all hope was lost, Y/N appeared." Prez chuckled. "At first, I thought she was sent here to capture me and take me back, but when she didn't recognize me or anything, I realized she was on a different mission, and most probably the one my team had failed to succeed in at that."

           "It was such a quick turn of events...no wonder they were forced to call a rookie team into the front lines right away..." Namjoon hummed.

           "Why stay though after we arrived? For revenge?" Hoseok asked.

           "Partially, to be honest." Prez exhaled. "But I also wanted... no I felt obligated--- to protect the Librarian from harm."

           "Why?" Yoongi breathed. "Is she your--?"

           Prez shook his head knowingly, "Not mine. She was my partner's mother. VP was the child she gave up when she was younger."

           Jimin frowned and stammered, at a loss at the saddening connection. "So they never got to...the Librarian never knew...why..."

           Prez stared at his shoes, "I wish I knew why VP did what she did as well. I regret every day that I wasn't able to save her, and the fact that I didn't have an inkling that she was in trouble." Then he looked up at everyone, determinedly. "That's why I want to make absolutely sure that Y/N returns. I won't lose someone precious again."

           With that resolve, Yoongi instinctively pulled off his wig, and handed Prez his gun firmly.

           "Then welcome to the team Special Agent Park Bo Gum. Let's go kick some ass."

           Prez grinned and compliantly took the weapon from Yoongi's grasp, placing it into his own makeshift holster.

           "Before we head out, there's something Y/N found before she got taken. She left us a hint before she got taken in her book. And I later discovered something as I was perusing the school for hidden passageways." he began, opening his backpack.

           "Hidden passageways?" Jimin questioned.

           "I didn't find any...but I found something a lot more worrying." Prez frowned as he took out a large object from his backpack.

           Everyone backed away and gasped.

           "Oh man. Holy shit."  

           "Why won't you eat?" Counselor frowned as he tried to feed you bread, but you kept evading with your mouth shut tight.

           You looked down to avoid him stuffing your mouth while you were speaking. "What? So you could poison me?"

           He chuckled. "Why would I do that now? I could've killed you when we captured you both times. Why do you think I went through the trouble of bringing you over here alive, unlike the other victims?"

           You glared at him and he chucked the bread at your feet. "Well, your loss then. You'll get hungry eventually then you'll have to beg."

           "Brother, things are ready." Twin called, feigning obedience, but you knew better that he was the more manipulative of the two. "We'll be back, pet."

           You tugged at the chains tightly wrapped around your body in anger. "Don't call me that."

           "Or else what?" he cackled.

           "You shouldn't have tried to escape, Y/N." Counselor exhaled and shook his head. "I tried to keep you comfortable, but you did this to yourself."

           You rolled your eyes in response.

           And with one last pitiful glance in your direction, the two disappeared. You were left alone with the guards once again; however they were much more equipped this time around. Straining, you tried to position yourself inconspicuously in order to take something out of your back pocket. As you were doing so, you saw the familiar glint of the bracelet Yoongi had given you on your wrist.

           That was it.

           Fumbling, you tried reach for the bracelet despite the painful and odd posture.

           Yoongi gasped as his watch came to life, a small red dot displayed at the surface.

           "She figured it out." his lips curled up. "I have her location."

           "No time to be lovey dovey." Hoseok patted Yoongi's butt as they tried to crawl through the school's vents.

           "I can't believe we're trying to fit 7 grown ass men into vents." Yoongi rolled his eyes, but regardless of his non-chalant outward facade, he was relieved. You had turned on the signal, meaning you were still alive. And they were making their way to you quickly, thanks to the tracer that had been placed on the Counselor. So now, instead of tearing the entire place apart to search for you like he had planned, Yoongi would be able to sprint to you once they arrived at the destination.

           To see you. To hold you. To save you.

           He moved forward, more determined than before.

           "We're here." Tae whispered.

           "Why didn't anyone think to look in the creepy abandoned building of the campus?" Yoongi snorted.

           "It's underneath the surface." Tae stated, amused. "Even if they did, they wouldn't have found anything."

           "Okay so team." Namjoon called. "Remember the plan. We divide and conquer. Yoongi, Prez, Hoseok, you go rescue Y/N. We'll keep the guards and the two masterminds' attention diverted. If you engage, we need to get them to talk before we hurt or kill them. We need the evidence and the confession."

           Everyone hummed in understanding.

           "Keep your communication open at all times." Namjoon reminded. "Let's move."

           Taehyung and Jimin skillfully jumped out of the vents noiselessly, and sprinted into the darkness to find their targets. Namjoon and Jungkook diverted to another section of the vents to do the same. Prez, Hoseok, and Yoongi moved further forward, closer to where your location was, using the safety of the vents to their advantage as much as they could.

           Or so they thought.

           After a few minutes, a foul odor began following the three. At first it was subtle traces, Hoseok lightly questioning Yoongi if he had flatulated. But it soon began consuming and replacing the oxygen in the enclosed space.

           "It's poison gas. Go!" Prez yelled, and they pried the nearest exit apart, jumping out immediately.

           "Wow, so there were rats in our vents." the Twin smirked as he appeared just down the hallway of where they had landed. "Fancy seeing the pair of you, Prez, Yoongi."

           "How do you know me?" Yoongi hissed.

           "I don't. My brother does. Basketball star, Min Yoongi. Ex-boyfriend of Y/N, that is, until he stabbed her in the back, and turned the whole school against her." he cackled. "How cruel."

           "That wasn't what happened!" Yoongi yelled.

           Hoseok held a hand out to stop his best friend. "Don't let him get under your skin. He's stalling."

           "Where's your brother?" Prez stepped forward.

           "Ah Student Council President." Twin's lips curled. "How odd your fate is."

           Prez furrowed his brow as he positioned himself in a fighting stance. "Yoongi, go."

           "What?" Yoongi whispered, surprised.

           "You need to save Y/N. We can take him and his goons." Hoseok commented, understanding Prez's decision.

           Yoongi pursed his lips, hating to abandon the two, but he knew it wouldn't make sense losing precious time fighting here. Every minute that passed, was a minute where you could be on the verge of death. And that thought made his feet move as he sprinted down another hallway, keeping a close eye at the colored dot that was you. He heard shots firing towards him, but his feet continued to move, adrenaline rushing through his system.

           Stay alive, you two. His silent wish.

           "How foolish." the Twin laughed maniacally as the two were soon surrounded by his henchmen. "Do you think you two can handle gang members who swore their allegiance to us?"

           Prez smirked. "You have no idea what we're capable of."

           Immediately, he and Hoseok pulled out their guns and began shooting, clearing their way to take refuge in a nearby classroom to use the desks as shields. The Twin hissed, clearly not expecting them to be equipped with state of the art weapons.

           "You think you can handle the gang members?" Prez questioned.

           "Of course. I don't think many of them are too skilled, just strong." Hoseok nodded. "What're you going to do?"

           "I'm going to take out their leader." Prez grinned as he slid to the next table, and began to fire.

           Hoseok pulled his machine gun from his back, and began taking out the gang members who were gratefully lined up horizontally for him. In the midst of the barrage of bullets, the Prez rushed forward towards the Twin, who seemingly was looking elsewhere. But just when Prez thought the Twin was within reach, he was disarmed and thrown to the ground at a lightning speed. Prez winced and coughed at the impact.

           "You may be skilled, but let's not forget who murdered all those people in various ways." the Twin pulled out a long knife from his jacket with cynical grin. "Now, where shall I put the 'X' on you?"

           A gunshot was heard and the knife fell out of his grip. The Prez hurried to roll away, kicking the Twin in the gut, before the knife fell and dug into his trapped body.

           "Thanks." Prez smiled as Hoseok smirked proudly from afar before continuing his own battle.

           The Twin chuckled as he clutched his bleeding hand. "If your VP could see you now...putting yourself in harm's way after she died to protect you."

           Prez stilled as he gripped his gun. "What'd you say?"

           The Twin's grin widened, as malicious and chill-inducing as the Cheshire cat's. "Irene...your beautiful VP. I know she sacrificed herself to hide her secret, to hide that she was connected to you. Just like Y/N, we gave her an ultimatum - join us or die. Frankly, she made the wrong choice. But still, she was my favorite to kill. I loved the challenge."

           "You son of a bitch!" Prez yelled as he pulled the trigger, but the Twin was expecting his rage, thriving off of the crazed look in the Prez's eyes.

           "There it is!" he giggled gleefully. "The look of revenge! Of helplessness! Of loss! My favorite expression before carving into people's bodies."

           "I'm going to kill you." Prez bellowed furiously. "I'm going to make sure you never see the sunlight again!"

           "Let us see, Student Council President." The Twin's lips curled up at Prez's declaration, as he brandished his own hidden gun. "Which one of us will see the dawn."

           An explosion breezed through the hallway, coming from another wing of the building, but the emanating shock was enough to bring the old building crumbling down. Prez saw the worried expression of Hoseok from across the room, right before the rubble separated them.

           "Shit. Tae!" Jimin scolded. "We weren't supposed to use that yet!"

           "But they were going to kill you." Tae frowned. "I panicked."

           Jimin exhaled, clutching his wounded arm. "What did I tell you about blowing up stuff when you panic?"

           Tae pouted. "Don't do it."

           Jimin smiled lopsidedly, "But I guess in this case, you saved me."

           Tae's face immediately brightened and he latched himself beside Jimin, ripping his already torn t-shirt to tie around Jimin's open flesh.

           "But we just attracted everyone in our direction." Jimin sighed. "We need to prepare for another fight, Tae."  

           Tae nodded meekly. "I'll protect you this time."

           "Tae." Jimin chuckled. "You're not the best at fighting."

           Tae huffed. "But I can too!"

           Jimin glanced around, amused. "We've also closed off the exit. We're at a dead end."

           "I have more bombs!" Tae beamed. "We can make a way out!"

           Jimin laughed. But the two flinched as they spotted a large boulder floating nearby.

           "Ghost!" Tae cried.

           "This is why we can't have you two as a pair." Namjoon chuckled as he stepped into the area while Jungkook easily chucked the boulder behind him. "Leave the fighting to us."

           Yoongi whipped his leg around onto an opponent's shoulders, and dragged them to the ground, suffocating them with his knees, squeezing against the windpipe. While in that position, he fired off shots as the guards closed in on him at either side. He was anxious. Time was ticking. He needed to get rid of these obstacles as fast as possible, but there were just too many of them. Once the man underneath him stopped moving, he scrambled to ransack his weapons, skillfully chucking knives straight into the hearts of those who dared to come too close. He hissed as a bullet grazed his cheek, but he returned the favor, not missing his mark. Was there no end to these people?

           "Yoongi!" a familiar voice called out.

           "Hoseok!" he breathed.

           "What the hell? You didn't even get far!" his best friend commented.

           "Shut up! They just keep coming like ants!" Yoongi groaned.

           "It's cause you're distracted, dude!" Hoseok yelled as he joined the fray. "I've seen you during exams take down more enemies than this at a faster time. Focus!"

           Yoongi inhaled. He knew Hoseok was right. He had memorized all the pressure points, had studied every artery, envisioning the human body as a lucid target, masked by flesh countless of times. His title of being Class 9's "Genius" stemmed from his eerily pinpoint accuracy and efficiency, as he calculated with ease the quickest route and the fastest way to end a fight. Closing his eyes, he listened to the footsteps coming towards him, drowning out all extraneous noise, until he honed in on their breathing, the air propelling the bullets, their quick-paced pulses. When he opened his eyes, he barreled through the incoming crowd, knocking them unconscious with the brute force of his fist against various pressure points. His senses were attuned to every movement and his body reacted instantly. He found himself at the end of the hallway with a trail of bodies behind him. Hoseok grinned as he finished off his last henchman as well, slinging the gun over his shoulder.

           "I'm winning in KOs in this battle." he stuck his tongue out.

           "Shut up." Yoongi chuckled.

           "Go." Hoseok gestured. "More of them are coming soon."

           Yoongi nodded and disappeared into the darkness, hurrying towards you.

           "Almost...there." You finally pulled a thin compact out of your back pocket. "Got it."

           You straightened back up when the guards came to check on you, giving them a glare.

           "What're you doing?" they growled.

           "I had an itch. Fuck off." You cursed.

           "Bitch." They criticized before disappearing to a corner of the room.

           You pursed your lips as you fiddled to open the compact which held a variety of Tae's smaller inventions. Your hand felt the items you had been searching for, and your lips curled up triumphantly.

           Long discarded were the guns, and now Prez and the Twin were fighting with blades clashing repeatedly, both injured and breathing heavily.

           "I can't wait to fucking kill you." the Twin heaved.

           "That's my line." Prez jabbed his blade forward while evading the Twin's sloppy slice.

           The pair of them was losing blood quickly. Prez had been shot in the shoulder, limiting his movement, and sustained various stab wounds while Hoseok had shot the Twin's hand early in the fight and Prez had gotten a hit into his thigh.

           The Twin managed to get out of the way hurriedly for someone with one injured leg, and dug his knife into Prez's leg in retaliation. Prez cried out at the horrendous sensation as the Twin twisted the sharp end evilly. His vision began blurring at the immense pain.

           But suddenly, the Twin's grip left the knife and he stumbled back a little.

           "Wh-what's happening?" the Twin fretted. "What's happening?!"

           Prez gritted his teeth and pulled the knife out of his leg. He watched in horror and in awe as the Twin's color changed to a light purple, his skin slowly sinking in around his face.

           "What did you do?!" he coughed out blood.

           Prez didn't hesitate to drive both blades right into the Twin's chest, taking advantage of his moment of weakness. The Twin's eyes rolled to the back of his head and his body slumped forward, falling deeper into the weapons.

           With his last breath, he whispered, "Justice..."

           Prez stepped back shakily, pulling the daggers out of the newly turned corpse as it fell to the ground. With bated breath, he watched as foam and blood emerged out of its mouth. Then it became still. His heart pounded, half terrified that Twin would get up and begin moving once again, but after a few minutes passed, he ventured closer to make sure.

           The Twin was dead.

           Ironically, his daggers had sliced a large "X" in the center of his chest, but what had happened to his body in the middle of the fight?

           "Prez!"

           He glanced around, hearing a voice, but not seeing anyone.

           "Jungkook, move these rocks!"

           "Stop being so impatient!" Jungkook commented, but soon enough, a path was cleared through the rubble within seconds.

           Prez blinked in astonishment as Jungkook, Tae, Jimin, and Namjoon came into view.

           "Sunbae-nim! You're alright!" Tae grinned as he hurried towards him then froze in his tracks as he realized the dead body on the ground.

           "You killed him!" Hoseok arrived with warm smile. "I knew you could."

           Prez smiled sheepishly. "I think luck was on my side though...something happened towards the end of the fight."

           Tae knelt down and tilted his head curiously.

           "Don't get too close! It might be infectious!" Jimin worried.

           "It's poison." Tae nudged the body with his foot, flipping it over.

           "Poison?" Everyone questioned.

           "It's one of my new inventions I had given Y/N." Tae pointed at the very small circle attached at the back of Twin's neck. "It latches on when it feels the human body temperature, and when a button is pressed to activate, it ingects poison into the bloodstream. It's made with a surplus of the very ingredients they had used to poison the Science Teacher."

           Tae smiled up at the Prez. "It wasn't luck on your side... It was Y/N."

           The corners of Prez's mouth lifted up with warmth and affection at the thought.

           "Y/N!"

           Your heart did a somersault at the familiar voice that echoed throughout the room. You stopped what you were doing to flicker your eyes towards the entrance, praying you weren't hearing things. Thankfully you weren't, because you saw Min Yoongi standing a few feet away from you, hair disheveled, panting heavily. Only a millisecond was granted between you two to acknowledge that the other was safe before the guards went into action.

           You hurried to re-activate the laser in your grasp once again; another trinket Tae had graced you with in your compact. This time you weren't being sly about your actions as everyone was far too distracted with Yoongi to notice the chains loosening.

           "Come on. Melt faster." You murmured anxiously, wanting to help Yoongi in the battle. Your gaze flitted over to him every so often to make sure he was still in one piece.

           Your worry seemed pointless though because he seemed to be at his tip-top shape. His movements were scarily accurate, as if he was able to predict the attacks a split second before they actually happened. You had to pry your glance away from admiring him in order to continue clawing your way to freedom.

           "I saw you checking me out."

           You blushed shyly as you looked up at Yoongi, all the guards scattered about unconsciously.

           "I was making sure you weren't getting your ass kicked." You jeered, collecting yourself.

           This time the two of you smiled at each other, obvious relief painted on both of your faces. You heard the click of the chains finally unclasping, and you pulled your arms free excitedly. Yoongi scurried towards you without hesitation, and your feet did the same.

           However, peripherally you spotted another shadow making a dash towards Yoongi as well from the side. Your heart dropped immediately at the glimpse of a shiny, sharp object in its grasp, and you willed your legs to speed up as your smile faded, drowned by dread of what might come to pass. Holding your breath, you lunged forward tackling Yoongi down with you, but simultaneously, you felt a deep, excruciating pain plunge into your side as you did so.

           Yoongi immediately reacted, raising his gun during the descent, and pressing the trigger an incessant amount of times towards the attacker, not caring where exactly he was aiming. The body danced around at the barrage of impacts until Yoongi's load finished. There was a ringing silence as the body slowly flopped to the ground, unmoving.

           It was the Counselor.

           But the thought of victory and triumph was far from Yoongi's mind as his heart raced. Gently, he turned you from where you lay on top of him, and cradled you in his arms. His hands were fumbling frantically, trying to press down at the spot where your blood was flowing, staining his clothes.

           "Y/N...Y/N." He cried out. His mind scrambled, not recalling the protocol. What should he do first? What was the procedure to stop this bleeding? How does he save you?! "Oh my god, Y/N. Please. Please."

           He shook you as your breathing became ragged. You coughed and groaned, wincing at the pain.

           "Don't you dare die on me." Yoongi begged, his voice faltering evidently. "W-we were supposed to be the best partners."

           When you didn't respond, his eyes watered, fearing that you were slipping away from him. "Hey." He whispered as he shut his eyes. "On a normal occasion I would never admit this...but I've always wanted to say it... but I was too chicken to..." He leaned his forehead on yours, his tears trickling down, landing on your face.

           "I love you, Y/N."

           "Y-yoongi...?" You breathed, your eyes willing themselves to open, because his words had numbed the pain you were feeling in exchange for your heart drumming erratically against your chest. Had you heard him right?

           He glanced down at you lovingly, "I always have. I still honestly don't think I deserve to love you. But don't you dare die on me until I can make a fool of myself and say this to you properly, big banner, flowers and all. And I won't even care-- you can laugh at me, reject me or whatever...just as long as you're alive, goddamit."

           Your hand flew up to his mouth to stop his babbling. "Yoongi... this wound won't kill me. Stop overreacting."

           He grabbed your hand from his mouth and grasped on tightly.

           "But..." You whispered. "Say it again..."

           "What?"

           "What you've always wanted to say to me..." You smiled, "...and what I've always wanted to hear from you..."

           Yoongi pressed his lips against your hand, his heart feeling so full that he thought he was going to combust. He leaned down, wiping your hair away from your face, to whisper. "I love you, Y/N. So much."

           "I love you too, you pain in my ass." You cupped his cheek lovingly as he closed the distance, and captured your lips with his. Grinning as your body was immediately elated with the fluttering of a thousand butterflies, you angled your head up, allowing him to deepen the kiss eagerly. But the throbbing pain on your side caused you to break the contact unwillingly.  

           "Ow okay, still bleeding profusely Yoongi, still bleeding." You groaned.

           "Oh sorry." he chuckled sheepishly. "Probably should get that checked out first. Hold on."

           You shook your head amused as he contacted the others to get to your location immediately with the medical team. "Seriously. First you act like I'm on my deathbed, and then you act like I'm not wounded."

           He snorted and scrunched his face at you in response.

           You laughed to yourself as you thought that you should've "almost died" sooner if you knew it would bring about this kind of result. Reaching for his hand, you gave it a light squeeze to get his attention. He glanced over at you curiously.

           "I'm tired. Don't freak out." You exhaled as you shut your eyes, exhaustion taking over now that the adrenaline was wearing off. "I haven't slept in days."

           "I'm not going anywhere." he smiled. "Rest in peace."

           You glared at him. "Are you trying to send me off?"

           He covered your face with his hand teasingly. "Don't get irritated, your blood pressure will increase and you'll lose more blood."

           "Is that even real?" You questioned.

           "Shhh...." he shushed you playfully, still covering your eyes, so you couldn't see the gentle way he was looking at you. "You're safe now. I found you."

           Your lips curled up as you felt his fingers fiddling with yours, lulling you into slumber.

           "That you did."

           You groaned as you shifted in your bed, only to be awakened by a throbbing pain in your side.

           "Shit."

           "Yeah, pretty much what I felt like saying when I first woke up with a bullet wound."

           Your eyes fluttered open at the familiar voice.

           "Whoa, there." Jin laid a gentle hand on your shoulder as you attempted to sit up out of excitement. "They stitched you up and I don't want to be the cause of them popping open."

           You chuckled and relaxed as you recognized the hospital room. "Hi."

           "Hi." Jin's eyes twinkled as he looked down at you.

           "Are you allowed to be out of your room?" You glanced at him curiously.

           "Yeah, I'm alright. They just kept me here for longer because it was apparently safe here." he shrugged. "And who was I to complain? I still get my paycheck."

           You shook your head, amused.

           "So Yoongi told me you got that wound when you saved him." Jin smiled.

           You snorted. "He can't do anything without me."

           Jin's eyes fell to your hand then back to your face. Gently, he slipped his warm hands into yours before smiling.

           "I always looked at you, but you were always looking at him, you know."

           You blinked. "What?"

           "I thought this time might be different...but it's still the same as high school." he sighed. "You exist in a different world than me."

           You laughed as you squeezed his hand, "Are you serious? Jin, you were the one that existed in a different world than me. But..."

           Jin glanced at you curiously.

           "I'm thankful you came into mine instead of trying to force me into yours." You grasped his hand with both of your own. "I didn't realize it until later, but I was so grateful you tried to understand me, and accepted me for who I was instead of making me into someone else. You encouraged me to be better, but let me stay in my bubble when I refused. You gave much more than I did in our friendship, and I was so ashamed that I let it go without understanding or realizing it."

           Jin brought your hands to his face and exhaled. "You changed me, Y/N. There are some things you can only see when you take a step back from where you were, and you showed me that. That I was only showing others a fraction of who I really was. You also showed me how much of a coward, and how shallow I was back then."

           You shook your head. "You weren't--"

           "I loved you." Jin confessed.

           Your eyes widened. "What?"

           "I loved you in high school." Jin smiled. "I stopped talking to you because I was hurt and angry that you didn't choose me. That's why I abandoned you. And I was so foolish because...that's not love at all. That's selfishness."

           "I don't blame you, Jin. I did the same. The Counselor used to be one of the victims that got bullied with me. When I realized that and looked at what he became, I wondered if things would be different if I had just reached out and put my selfishness aside for a few minutes." You rubbed his cheek gently. "We were young, powerless, naive."

           "That's why I've sworn to help the young, powerless, and naive." Jin grinned.

           Your lips curled up, "And I think you're fantastic at it, truly."

           "It was all for you, Y/N."

           You looked up at him, searching for answers in his expression, but you couldn't tell. He was always good at hiding his emotions, despite seeming like an open book and full of expression. The things that truly mattered, the negative thoughts, he had always locked those in. What did that mean? Did he still--?

           "Don't tell Yoongi." Jin whispered.

           "Tell him wh--"

           Your words got cut off by his lips gently pressing onto yours. You inhaled quickly. The kiss was light as a feather, but from the way his plush lips brushed against yours, you could feel the thousands of emotions and feelings he had never told you. Your eyes welled up at the heartache you felt from him.

           "Jin, I'm --" You started, but he leaned back down and kissed you deeper this time.

           "Son of a --"

           Jin grinned widely as he was pressed against the wall by a very furious Min Yoongi.

           "You saw me walk in you little shit. I was going to let the first one go 'cause you took a bullet for her but that second one was just unnecessary! You were just trying to piss me off." he hissed, clutching onto Jin's shirt intensely.

           "Well it worked." Jin smirked.

           "Want another bullet on your other side to make you symmetrical?" Yoongi snarled, having to stand on his tiptoes so he can threateningly look up into Jin's face.

           "Yoongi." You called. "It's fine."

           Yoongi glared at Jin one last time before walking to you. He leaned down and kissed you warmly, then went to place new flowers in the vase by your bedside. "I'll be right back to get the others now that you're awake. Here's a gun. You just shoot if he tries anything."

           You rolled your eyes. "Stop overreacting. But I know a better way to end this feud."

           They both looked at you curiously.

           You pointed to your lips and grinned, "Yoongi, you just kissed Jin by kissing me, and if Jin tries to kiss me again, he'll end up kissing you."

           Yoongi gagged. "Disgusting."

           Jin teased and stepped closer to you. "So if I don't mind that, I can kiss you again?"

           "Nevermind, I can't leave this room." Yoongi stated dryly. He pressed his earpiece. "We have a code red in Y/N's hospital room. There's a molester here. Must be shot immediately."

           "What?!" Tae yelled.

           You exhaled and pressed your own earpiece. "No, it's just Jin. Yoongi's being himself again."

           "Y/N!!!" Tae's voice was heard yelling down the hallway until your door flew open. "Y/N!"

           "Shush!" Yoongi scolded. "There are other people in this hospital."

           "She livesss!" Hoseok bellowed excitedly.

           "Y/N." Jimin skipped in, jumping onto Tae who was closest to your bed.

           Tae and Jimin looked at Yoongi in anticipation, pouting slightly.

           Yoongi exhaled, "Fine, but lightly. She's still wounded."

           The two brightened and collapsed on top of your body, snuggling into you. You giggled, patting their heads warmly.

           "I missed you guys too."

           "Jungkook, please." Yoongi called as he and Namjoon entered the room.

           Jungkook knowingly and easily pulled the two off of you.

           "How old is this kid anyway?" Jin questioned. "And does he talk?"

           "Of course I talk. I told you my name before. And I'm much younger than you." Jungkook shrugged nonchalantly while everyone snickered.

           "Welcome back, Y/N." Namjoon smiled.

           "Thanks." You beamed. "Can I know what happened now? How long was I out?"

           Namjoon chuckled. "Just 2 days. We're in the middle of finalizing the press release."

           "Press release?" You questioned. "You mean we're releasing the nature of the killings? Isn't that what they wanted though?"

           Namjoon shook his head. "The nature of the killings and the severity of the deaths will remain a secret, and so will your involvement of course. But the school cannot continue as it is. Just sweeping these issues under the rug will only result in a never-ending cycle. We must address them, instate a solution, and break what was known to be the norm. It's what the school should have done a long time ago."

           Jin nodded.

           "We've found incriminating evidence that the Principal was embezzling money from the school funds for his own personal use. This will be brought to light and he will be stepping down from his position. The Vice Principal was also found to have known about the transgression but kept quiet, becoming an accomplice. She will be demoted and return to the classroom. So we offered Jin the new position as Principal." Everyone glanced towards Jin, but he shook his head. "But he declined, preferring to teach rather than manage the school."

           You smiled at Jin reassuringly.

           "The Secretary declined and didn't want a job with that much pressure, and so did English Teacher." Jimin continued. "And then..."

           "And then?" You blinked, your interest piqued.

           "The Librarian accepted."

           Everyone turned their attention towards the door as a Prez hobbled into the room.

           "Prez!" You gasped as your eyes flitted to his bandaged thigh. "Wait-- did you fight too?! What happened?"

           "Prez helped locate bombs around the school, so that's why it took us awhile to rescue you. We figured that's why you weren't able to escape on your own." Tae explained.

           You smiled in relief.

           "Let's save all that for later." Your doctor knocked on the door. "I can't believe you kids always get yourself into such trouble." he pointed his pen towards Prez. "You - Special Agent Park Bo Gum- you shouldn't be walking around yet. I told you you're lucky that knife missed a vital vein, but you shouldn't push it."

           "Special Agent..." You mumbled. "As in..."

           "Alright. Out, out. How did I get suckered into being a doctor for reckless people?" he shooed everyone out of the room.

           "Wait? Sunbae?" You bellowed.

           Prez grinned and bowed, "At your service."

           "Out." The doctor pointed at the door, and everyone obediently filed out. "You too, little bro."

           Yoongi whined. "But she's my gir--"

           "I don't care what she is. She is MY patient right now. You should've called me first when she woke up. Tch."

           Yoongi pouted but waddled out of the room reluctantly.

           "Oh wait Y/N." Namjoon stepped back in. "I'll be taking care of some stuff with the rest of the team for the next few days. But...here."

           He handed you a letter. Curiously, you took it, your brows furrowed.

           "It was found on the Counselor's body, addressed to you." Namjoon smiled. "We scanned it already, it's safe. But I think you should read it."

           You nodded.

           "Rest well, and good job Special Agent." Namjoon patted your head warmly.

           "Couldn't have done it without my team." You grinned.

           "Alright, enough feel good scenes." Your doctor waved his hands and stepped between you two.

           Namjoon snorted, "Siblings indeed."

           And with that he left.

           "I thought you learned that hanging with my brother never ends well." Your doctor teased.

           "Yet here we both are." You grinned. "You, deciding to officially work for the Agency to keep an eye on him, and me, his partner."

           "He's just a lucky bastard, that's why." He chuckled as he took your vitals and checked your body. "Anything hurt?"

           "Mm," you hummed. "Possibly the place where the knife stabbed me."

           Yoongi's brother poked your forehead. "Smartass."

           "Will I live, doctor?" You jested.

           He chuckled, "Unfortunately."

           You smacked him lightly. He scribbled into his clipboard before clipping his pen back into his coat pocket.

           "Rest for the week, and I'll come back to take a look at your wound before giving you the okay to leave. You can walk around to get your body moving, but don't do anything strenuous. JUST walking. You hear that, Yoongi?"

           "I WASN'T PLANNING ON ANYTHING, YOU SICKO!" Yoongi yelled from behind the door.

           You giggled.

           "You look good otherwise, no other issues." he ruffled your hair. "Good seeing you kiddo."

           "You too."

           He nonchalantly opened the door, and gestured for his younger brother to enter. Then he walked away, not before smacking Yoongi's head with his clipboard though.

           Yoongi scowled as he entered, but his face softened as he realized you were watching him happily.

           You blushed, remembering what had occurred before you fell asleep for two days. Patting the small space beside you in the bed, you gestured for Yoongi to come closer, which he obliged without hesitation.

           "How are you feeling?" he asked.

           "Mmm, I've experienced worse." You grinned cheekily.

           He looked you up and down, "Yeah, true. You've looked worse."

           You pushed him and winced at the slight pain you felt at the rushed movement. Immediately, you were pulled into his body. Smiling, you rested your head into his shoulder, leaning into him.

           "You're stupid for getting stabbed instead of me." he mumbled.

           "You're welcome." You snorted.

           "I could've taken it." he sighed.

           "Well, I wouldn't have." You clutched his shirt. "Who knows where he was planning on stabbing you?"

           "What am I going to do with you?" Yoongi exhaled.

           "Well, I don't think you've ever had a problem figuring that out." You teased.

           He snorted and separated from you so you could talk face-to-face. His face turned serious and he grabbed your hands nervously, fiddling with them as he pondered on how to say what he wanted to.

           "Listen." he began. "I'm sorry."

           "For?"

           "Everything. For what I said about you that ended things in high school. For what I didn't do. For what I didn't realize was happening to you. For being so oblivious and stupid. For not even being worthy enough for the fight that you put up to be with me." he gripped your hands tightly.

           "Are you breaking up with me already?" You questioned.

           "No...I don't know. I just...what if I mess things up again?" he worried.

           "First, most of the time, bullying isn't as outlandish as they portray it in books and movies. It's underhanded, and inconspicuous. You shouldn't blame yourself for not noticing; the bullies didn't want you to. Don't let it haunt you." You cupped his cheek. "And second, relationships are a two way street. Even if you instigated the break up, I ended things. We both stopped trying because we were too proud."

           "I would break up with me too if I heard me saying what I did." he muttered.

           "But I should've known that sometimes your words hold deeper meanings behind them. You had a reason, didn't you?"

           Yoongi averted his gaze. "It wasn't worth losing you like that."

           The edge of your lips playfully lifted. "Well then, Min Yoongi. I will most probably often ignore you for books. I still don't really like meeting new people, but I think I have to slowly work on it. I have social anxiety and some sort of trauma from bullying. I used to have a weird obsession with becoming popular because I thought it would solve my issues and make my life ten times better. I also have a pretty bad temper. And I may break up with you too quickly out of anger if I hear you badmouth me again."

           Yoongi chuckled.

           "But..." you intertwined your fingers with his. "I still want to give us another chance, because I love you... faults and all."

           He studied the way your hands looked in his, and his heart somersaulted. Tightening his hold, he exhaled. "I'm not good at expressing myself at times, but I do get easily jealous and somewhat possessive. I'm still embarrassed saying cheesy, romantic things so you probably might get insults instead, even though I'm constantly trying to tell you I love you or that I think you're absolutely beautiful. But I want to try. I want to love you properly, how I should've from the beginning."

           "You think I'm beautiful?" You fluttered your eyes playfully.

           "Shut up." he rolled his eyes, turning slightly red from embarrassment.

           You laughed and kissed his cheek. "What happened to the 'big banner, flowers and all' you promised me?"

           "Well flowers are here." he pointed to the vase.

           "Those are 'get well' flowers, not 'I love you' flowers!" You chuckled. "Should I stab myself again?"

           "Well, when you get better I'll do it, okay?" he huffed, averting his eyes with a pout.

           "Forget all that and just get me a really good meal." You patted your stomach. "I'm starving."

           Yoongi laughed. "I'll go pick up some steaks then."

           "Make that two." You added.

           "For me?" Yoongi smiled.

           "No." You raised an eyebrow. "Both are for me. Come on, Yoongs."

           He shook his head, amused, then made his way to the door. "I'll take care of it. Just get some rest."

           You nodded. "Pay them extra if they can make them quick!"

           "Will do, boss." he saluted.

           You grinned.

           Once your door slid closed, your smile faded as you slipped the letter Namjoon had given to you, out from underneath your blankets.

           About a week later, you were finally cleared to leave the hospital and so, the entire team found themselves back at the school, standing in front of the entire student body.

           "Umm..." You spoke into a microphone awkwardly, making a pleading face towards Namjoon.

           "If we could just have everyone's attention, please." Namjoon called out in a commanding tone, causing the entire auditorium to become hushed in anticipation.

           You could feel the eyes on you, confused as to why you were standing up in regular clothes with the two "investigators" who helped take the bodies, the school nurse, and yours and Yoonji's "dates". You glanced around anxiously, wondering why Yoongi was taking so long.

           "So we've gathered you all here today to provide an explanation, because I think you all deserve one in light of everything you have been through this year." Namjoon continued. "First, yes, it is true. The culprits have been caught, and all students who had become accomplices were subjected to actual counseling and probation. All those that have victimized them are also under scrupilous investigation and monitoring for the next few months. If found irreparable, they too will be sent to counseling and rehabilitation. And yes, the Science Teacher is alive and making a full recovery. He will return to the school after taking a year off to recuperate and spend time with his wife.

           Next, I'm sure you're all wondering why I have gathered a lot of seemingly random people up here. As far as all of you know, Inspector V and I were directly involved in this investigation. But today, standing before you, is the rest of my team who were part of the undercover efforts."

           Everyone began murmuring, extremely surprised. Some were enthusiastic, others looked uncomfortable. You averted your eyes away from the crowd, awkwardly. The entire team knew you had to cover up the very nature of your positions, and so Namjoon settled on a realistic, and not-so-far-off story--being undercover private investigators. You were secret agents after all. An entire school couldn't know your true identities. You exhaled, always finding this part slightly awkward, but Namjoon was fantastic at making everything believable.

           Then, you grinned widely as you spotted someone walking on stage non-chalantly, soon taking his place beside you. By now, the entire auditorium was buzzing.

           "Took you long enough." You nudged Yoongi.

           "My brother took forever giving me my check up results." he rolled his eyes. "He was being an ass."

           "He loves you, is all." You chuckled.

           "I want to give special recognition to two undercover private investigators, who went above and beyond, and put themselves in imminent danger in order to save you all and stop these killings. You know them as your female classmates, Y/N and Yoonji, but..." Namjoon paused.

           "I'm an actual female." You interjected.

           "And I'm not." Yoongi snorted.

           "WHAT?" There was a collective uproar at the realization. Many of the male students who had vied for Yoonji's attention were staring blankly forward, while other males were still fairly enthusiastic. The females were all squealing excitedly at the reveal.

           "Thanks to these two, we were able to solve the mystery and apprehend the culprits. But what I really would like to stress today, is that these murders stemmed from vegeance and from an odd sense of heroic justice. As the future generation, I don't want you to remain ignorant about what really happened." Namjoon stood tall in the podium. "These killers felt justified killing students and teachers because they committed various crimes that went under the eye of the judicial system. They took it upon themselves to act as the hand of a higher power and bring judgment on these people, because they experienced the similar harsh treatment of bullying and harrassment, of isolation, of loneliness, and eventually, a slow descent into madness. We do not want that for your future. We do not want your school to not learn from these terrifying times, to just sweep these issues under the rug with money like you have all seen countless of times. As with history, we want you to take the mistakes and work to make them right. That was no act of justice. That was manslaughter. If you find something wrong with the judicial system, with the school system, you study hard, you work hard, and you make that difference yourself. Not just for the temporary present but for all of the incoming future."

           You placed a gentle hand on Namjoon's shoulder, knowing he could go on and on about how deeply he felt for this topic. He smiled shyly and stepped back, letting you take the microphone.

           "Hi, everyone. I um...I know it's a lot to take in. But in short, he wants everyone to make a fresh start. He wants you all to come together and rebuild the school into something beautiful, something genuine, a safe haven, unlike it was before when we first transferred. And I know I can't prevent gossip or any of the sort." You frowned. "But I really want you to know that from first-hand experience, your words in a fleeting moment can be an everlasting scar for someone else, and a simple series of actions and happenings at this significant point in your lives can determine what kind of person you can or will become." You smiled sadly. "And staying silent makes you just as guilty. Seeking help doesn't mean you're being a coward; it doesn't make you weak. It's one of the bravest things you can do...standing up for yourself. And offering to help doesn't make you uncool...it makes you strong, standing up for others. Sometimes all someone needs is just one helping hand to pull them out of the darkness."

           Yoongi reached over and intertwined your fingers proudly. You glanced at him warmly then at the rest of your team. Tae and Jimin grinned at you in return.

           "And being popular or acting like someone else is never as satisfying as being yourself, being accepted and embraced for being exactly who you are."

           You blushed as you noticed that everyone began pointing at yours and Yoongi's joined hands. You had gotten slightly carried away. "So um...if anyone has questions...we'll take a few minutes to answer them."

           "There's a hand back there." Namjoon called out. "Yes, sir?"

           The person stood up and grinned. You blinked. It was Jin.

           "So I know it's been a few months, but like...what's up with dating Y/N? Are you serious about her?" he called out.

           You glanced at Yoongi, surprised and confused at Jin's straightforward question.

           But your boyfriend was simply smiling widely as well, mirroring Jin's expression.

           "Yo. So like ever since Y/N started dating Yoongi...haven't you noticed she was actually kind of hott?"

           Yoongi halted in front of the lockeroom as he overheard your name come up in conversation.

           "Like wow...Yoongi's never showed interest in a girl before, but Y/N got to him. What do you think happened?"

           "You know what they say about quiet ones, bro."

           "I'd like to try her on myself, if you know what I mean."

           There was collective laughter as Yoongi stood horrified at what he was hearing. His teammates, his supposed friends?

           "Yeah, I mean, how cool do you think I'd get if I slept with Min Yoongi's girlfriend? Wouldn't that mean I triumphed over him? Would that make me more popular and more handsome if I win over someone who won him over? Right?"

           "Is that how it works?"

           "But dude, I feel like she wouldn't even look at any of us though. She's always staring at a book or something."

           "Oh I'll make her see something she won't keep her eyes off of."

           "Oh please, like she can find that small dick of yours."

           Laughter roared once again. Yoongi gritted his teeth and rattled the doorknob, giving them time to get themselves together before he entered the room.

           "Hey yo! Yoongi, our captain! You lookin' good today! Must be because you got yourself a girlfriend to walk out of the school before practice." They jumped on him, and began ruffling his hair lovingly. As usual, he put on his best face and let them do what they wanted for the time being.

             He had later said those lies about you and your relationship, thinking it was the only way to protect you from his "friends" making a game out of you to one-up him. He didn't want you to go through that, didn't want to even think about what they were willing to do behind his back. If he portrayed you as clingy and needy, you wouldn't seem so much as a prize, but rather someone to pity. They would leave you alone.

           But never in a million years did he think you would overhear him, and he didn't think you would react the way you did. He was furious. You had believed his words so easily and dumped him right there and then, and he was apalled that your relationship had only meant that much to you, to be so easily broken by lies.

           He didn't want to come clean first. He wanted you to believe in him, because you, out of everyone, truly knew him. But it hurt when you didn't. When you didn't reach out, when you never realized. He wondered if that was how lowly you thought of him, that he was that kind of guy all this time. He had hoped that you would at least demand an explanation, which he was ready to give. But it never happened. And you drifted. Days became weeks, then months. He saw you less and less then suddenly, he never saw you at all.

           But this time, he knew that he wouldn't let you go for something menial, not without a fight. He squeezed your hand tightly, causing you to gaze at him questioningly.

           Jin's question was significant to the two of them. It was his redemption, and Jin's peace. So with a smile on his face, he replied wholeheartedly.

           "Abso-fuckin'-lutely serious."

           Jin beamed.

           You laughed as the student body chanted for you two to kiss, but Yoongi shook his head and flailed his arms, embarrassed. Instead, Tae, Jimin, and Hoseok captured him and playfully attempted to kiss his cheek while he thrashed around violently to prevent them.

           And it truly hit you in that moment that you were all finally going to go home.

           The mission was complete.

           But you still had one thing left to solve.

           You found yourself back, perusing the library until you found the book that matched with the rest of the numbers that the VP had left behind. Curiously, you pulled it out of the shelf and gasped as you found a button hidden on the other side. You reached out to press it, and flinched as a secret passageway opened up. You gasped, realizing it was how the culprits were able to get in and out the building so easily. And you recalled the way the unidentified figure - Twin- had disappeared without anyone leaving the library during the lock-in.

           You made a mental note to tell Namjoon, and you intently began examining the book you held in your hands. The Little Mermaid. There were two numbers left in the VP's hint so you flipped to that very page, to find an envelope taped to it. With shaky hands, you opened it, and as you read the contents, you couldn't help but sob.

           "Y/N?" Prez found you sitting in your usual place in the library with a sad smile on your face.

           "Hi." You gestured for him to sit in front of you.

           "Hi..." He obliged warily.

           "I found something that belongs to you." You handed him the letter. "But, can I ask you something first?"

           "Of course." he chuckled.

           "If you had the choice, would you still want to be a Special Agent?" You asked.

           He smiled fondly and nodded. "Yes. I really do. But I'm sure I'll find another career that will give me a similar sense of fulfillment. Everything happens for a reason after all."

           You nodded and stood up. "VP left that letter for you. I found the book matching the numbers of the hint she left you. She had attached it to a specific page."

           Prez's eyes widened in surprised, "She did?"

           Your lips curled up sadly, "Yes...sorry I read through it first. I wanted to just in case it was switched by the Counselor for a boobytrap or something...but anyways, thank you for everything, Prez."

           "Just call me Bogum." he insisted.

           You chuckled, "Thank you for everything... Bogum."

           "Thank you...for this...” he waved the letter. "And for making sure her efforts didn't go to waste."

           With another nod, you left him alone, knowing that he needed it.

           His heart raced and his hands trembled as he took out the letter from the envelope. His heart panged at the familiar neat handwriting that painted the paper as he began reading.

 "Dearest Bogum,

           If you're reading this...then I guess my plan didn't succeed to meet the culprits head on. But I hope that if you have the leisure of reading this, it means that the case has been solved, and that you are safe. If that's what happened, which I'm praying is the outcome, then you must have a lot of questions for me. Why did I do that? Why didn't I tell you? How could you have prevented it? Well, I can tell you for the latter, that nothing could have prevented the situation I'm in. You had always warned me to keep you and the team updated, but I always went off researching, searching on my own. You had always warned me to not go too deep on my own, and what you had forewarned came to pass.

           I accidentally caught sight of the Counselor and his twin using this secret passageway hidden in the library, to which this book is in front of. But alternatively, they caught me as well. They tried to recruit me, saying that I had not committed any sin to warrant death yet. They asked why I had been snooping, and who else I told my conjectures to. Obviously, I lied and said I was just looking for a book, and after buying myself enough time, I refused to join in their sick game. If I had stayed alive...if they knew how close we were, if they dug up my background, if somehow some way they found out about you and my mother, I wouldn't be able to live with myself. We would've all been in danger because of me.

           As for my mother... I wanted to thank her for giving birth to me in the end; that even though she attempted to kill me, she didn't. By giving me up, she gave me the best chance at staying alive; she gave me the opportunity to live wealthily and be raised by a family filled with love and devotion. Her choice led me to you, to the agency. I only wish that I could tell her myself to not let the guilt eat away at her. That she shouldn't freeze her life, because I have lived mine to the fullest unlike what she fears happened. But maybe the knowledge of my existence, and if you're reading this now, my eventually demise, would tear her up even more. So I'd like to remain a shadow in her past. So in my place, tell her to live and to love with all her heart as I've seen her do with us two and with the other students. She is a beautiful soul, and I'm so proud to have her blood running through my veins. The time I spent with her these few years...I have cherished them. I'm so glad the universe led me to her.

           I know they're going to try to kill me tonight, but I'm going to try my best to survive and end this mission, so we can go home and finally dance and sing to 'Bombastic' with the team in celebration. So, I hope you never have to read this letter.

           But if I failed and you are...know that I love you very much Bogum.

           Thank you for all the adventures. Thank you for giving me a place to belong, and someone I could call my own. Don't live with the weight of my death on your shoulders like my mother did. It was my choice alone. Just imagine instead that I'm beside you, protecting you, encouraging you, and wishing you all the happiness you have given me, because that's what partners do. Live vivaciously and passionately as you always have. Make people laugh as only you can. Make the world a better place with the genuine kindness only you possess.

Stay safe always.

 With love and until we meet again,

Irene"

             Prez wailed uncontrollably as he finished reading the last of her words.

           She had saved him.

           "Wow. It's good to be back in Headquarters." Jimin stretched.

           "I know. I can't wait to see how proud they are we completed the mission beyond what we were supposed to do." Tae spun around in the chair.

           You glanced over at Prez, who was sitting silently beside you, knowing it was almost time for his removal from the system.

           "So..." Namjoon came into the room.

           Anticipation filled the air as your entire team, Yoongi included, stared at him expectantly. The seven of you had stormed relentlessy into Headquarters the past few days to rally for the reinstatement of Bogum as a Special Agent. You all argued that without his help, you wouldn't have been able to complete the mission. Namjoon was later sent to the Director's office to discuss matters calmly while everyone waited in the conference room for the verdict, unbeknownst to Bogum of course.

           "The Director personally came down to see everyone." Namjoon scratched his head.

           Everyone scrambled up, shocked. The Director hardly ever came out of his office. Not many people have seen him or spoken to him in person, unless you were the Brain of your team. But even then, it seemed that he had other people liason for him and the Brains. He kept a very secretive, low-profile. So everyone stood up respectfully, and the room was filled with tension. Why had he decided to show himself to you? It was unheard of for a new SA team.

           Two figures walked into the room, which caused all your jaws to drop.

           "Mr. BANG???" You, Tae, and Jimin bellowed.

           You glanced at the person beside him. "Mine and Yoongi's Junior year homeroom teacher??!"

           "Wait -- who's Mr. Bang?" Yoongi blinked. "Isn't that the homeroom teacher's boyfriend? We've seen them together a few times."

           "He recruited us." You revealed.

           "She recruited me." Yoongi pointed at your old Junior year homeroom teacher. "And agreed to let Hoseok in too."

           She smiled fondly at you and Yoongi. "It's good to see you've found everything you were looking for, Yoongi. And I'm glad you've really become a beautiful, amazing woman, Y/N."

           You walked over and embraced her. She had been your savior in high school, so it was a breath of nostalgia and gratefulness being in her presence once again.

           "Come here too, Mr. Bang!" You widened your arms towards him, but Namjoon stepped forward, stopping you.

           "Um...Y/N..." he whispered. "He's the Director."

           "WHAT?!"

           "And she's his Secretary." Namjoon glanced at your old homeroom teacher.

           "Yes, yes. Please sit down." Mr. Bang chuckled nonchalantly. "I have to get back to my class in a bit."

           "So this is where you disappeared to all the time." Tae mumbled.

           "So first, I'd like to congratulate you on returning safely. Welcome home." Then his smile faded. "But I do have to say that all of you have broken many of the Agency rules by participating in a mission that was not assigned to you. Bogum, you were ordered to return, but you continued to remain undercover. Namjoon, your team, was only supposed to gather INTEL, not get involved and apprehend the culprits."

           Everyone awkwardly averted their eyes.

           "AND you all come in here with these transgressions and caused a ruckus about how it's unfair and how Bogum should still be a Special Agent, and whatnot."

           Bogum glanced at your team in surprise as everyone smiled sheepishly.

           "But..." Mr. Bang smiled. "It's that kind of cleverness, proactiveness, strength of will, justice, and camraderie that made me come here today."

           Everyone visibly relaxed.

           "I had to make a few decisions." he folded his hands. "Bogum, these seven kids fought hard and demanded you remain a Special Agent. Is that something you would like?"

           Bogum sat up confidently, and nodded. "More than anything."

           "I figured." Mr. Bang chuckled. "So this once, I'm going to make an exception. You will remain a lone Special Agent, and take unique cases from me directly. Someone with your skill set will be upsetting to lose this early."

           Bogum beamed and bowed deeply. "I won't let you down! Thank you!"

           "And one other person requires an exception..." Mr. Bang nodded to your Junior Year Homeroom Teacher, who opened the door of the conference room.

           "You can come in." she called.

           "Whoa...what is this place?" Jin waltzed in, wide-eyed and in awe. "Oh hi! You're all here too!"

           You blinked as he sat down next to Bogum. "What's going on?"

           "Mr. Kim Seokjin was directly involved in this mission and the nature of your identities has been revealed to him, so at first we were going to erase his memories."

           There was a collective gasp, the loudest coming from Jin, who was horrified.

           "That's actually a thing??" he bellowed.

           "Buuttt..." Mr. Bang continued. "...it seems that there's no need because he's been related to this Agency since the beginning."

           Everyone looked around confused, including Jin.

           "You don't know?" You questioned.

           Jin scoffed, "I think I'd know if I was involved in a Secret Agent Secret Agency."

           "Send him in." Mr. Bang gestured.

           A few seconds later, an older handsome man waltzed into the room. Jin immediately sprung up from his seat.

           "DAD??"

           His dad laughed heartily. "I didn't believe it when you told me, Bang, but my son really got suckered into this one, huh?"

           You giggled lightly. It was like listening to an older Jin making jokes.

           "What're you doing here?" Jin scolded.

           "Well son, the family 'business' that you didn't want anything to do with was partnering with this Agency." Jin's father grinned.

           "But I thought you were just buying and selling random metals and stuff!" Jin argued.

           "Well yes, to buy parts for weapons." Jin's dad shook his head.

           "Oh my gosh..." Jin exhaled and sat down.

           "So in lieu of his family being one of our long-time generous partners, we have given Jin special permission into the agency as well. We won't have to erase his memories." Mr. Bang concluded.

           "Oh thank goodness." Jin breathed. "Sounds good to me."

           You laughed. Jin always took things so passively, even when he was whisked away into a high-tech agency by random people, was told he might have to get his memories erased, and was told that his dad's company actually gives secret agents the parts to create unique weapons.

           "The offer's still open son." Jin's dad shrugged. "You're welcome to join in on the fun when you're done with being a teacher."

           Jin smiled, and glanced at you. "We'll see where the wind blows me."

           You grinned.

           "Anyway," Mr. Bang clapped. "I would like to say that I have some vacation time for you guys, but unfortunately, there's another urgent matter I need you all to attend to."

           Everyone groaned.

           "As long as I stay a male this time, I'm in." Yoongi drawled.

           Mr. Bang smirked and leaned forward against the table.

           "So team...are ready for your next mission?"

.

.

.

.

BONUS: THE LETTER 

[robininthelabyrinth]

Norse Myth LOT Fic 2: Victory in Anticipation (Coldwave)

Fic: Victory in Anticipation (Ao3 Link) - Chapter 1/3 Fandom: Flash, Legends of Tomorrow, Norse Mythology Pairing: Mick Rory/Leonard Snart Sequel to Victory in Waiting - read first

Summary: Leonard Snart is dead and his soul has gone to Valhalla, the home of heroes, and that's the end of the story.

Well.

Not quite.

A/N: I highly recommend reading the first fic in this series first.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Every morning, after he’s awake but before he opens his eyes, he thinks – perhaps today.

Perhaps today he’ll wake up and see a dirty off-white ceiling with a bootprint smack in the middle, like the house on Lennox Street that was always secretly his favorite, or the vast height of a warehouse roof, or even the dull unrelieved slate grey that could stand for either Iron Heights or the Waverider.

Perhaps.

And then he opens his eyes and is blinded by the glint of golden shields, layered over each other like roof-tiles.

Nope.

Looks like it’s just going to be another day in fucking Valhalla.

Len sighs and rolls out of bed.

He does not like his bed, despite its fine carvings, because it was made by people who have a shit understanding of the finer arts of mattress-making – there’s a goddamn midpoint between sleeping on a lumpy set of rocks and drowning in a pile of fluff and fur – but he’s willing to admit that part of it might be his overall disappointment in the fact that he’s still here.

He wanders down to breakfast.

“Well met, Snare,” Ivar says, raising his – you know what, Len is going to call it a cup, despite its very obvious horn shape. He was never into Viking lore; insofar as he ever learned anything about mythology (religion?), it was about his own Judaism, a bit of Christianity (for Lisa, in case she cared – she didn’t), and maybe some Greek mythology because Xena.

He’s aware that that’s not a good basis for dealing mythology anything, but if he’d have realized it was going to be relevant to his life – or death, as it happens – he’d have read up about it first.

“It’s Snart,” Len says, not for the first (or, he suspects, the last) time. “Don’t suppose anyone’s done anything about my request for cheese, have they?”

“As we’ve explained several times,” Haukr, the man sitting next to Ivar – not as broad, but twice as smart – says, rolling his eyes, “the goat Heiðrún’s udders give mead, not milk.”

“Has anyone asked?”

“No.”

“I’m going to do it myself,” Len says.

“When you inevitably get yourself killed, I’ll laugh at you tomorrow,” Haukr says practically.

“Maybe this time I’ll wake up in the right place,” Len says. He doubts it, but a guy can hope, right?

“Snare here is Jewish,” Ivar tells another person, coming over from the sleeping area yawning. “Didn’t even know you could have Jewish einherjar before him.”

“What’s Jewish?” the other man grunts.

“The ones that don’t work on the seventh day,” Len sighs. He’s had this discussion before.

“Oh, them,” the man says. “Liked them. Can’t they not eat pig or something?”

This part of the discussion, too, is repetitive. It doesn’t make it less annoying.

“Not unless it’s necessary,” Len informs him.

“Is Sæhrímnir –”

“No, the giant boar roasting over the fire – though I see it’s gotten itself back off the fire and has pranced back into the forest on its dainty little hooves to let you bloodthirsty assholes hunt it down for today’s dinner again – before being plopped into the cook-pot is definitely not kosher. But since it’s the only thing to eat in this place, it’s fine.”

“Huh,” new guy says, scratching himself. He obviously doesn’t care, and he moves on without another word.

Again, not unsurprising. Len has had this conversation before. Verbatim.

“Is there an eight-letter word in Norse for ‘boring’?” Len asks Haukr. “Because right now I’m feeling it being ‘Valhalla’.”

“You shouldn’t blaspheme,” Ivar says, but by this point he’s gotten pretty used to Len and the admonishment isn’t quite as strong as it had been in the beginning.

“Where’s Leifr, anyway?” Len asks. He and Haukr tend to hang out a lot. “Not like he could go anywhere.”

“Tried to peep at the valkyries again,” Haukr says.

“So, dead?”

“Yeah. Already.”

“Fucking idiot.” It’s not like the valkyries don’t come by every night to serve everybody beer (mead, if you feel like being pedantic); Leifr’s just dumb. Dumber even than Ivar, and that takes some doing.

Haukr grunts in agreement. “You coming out with us?” he asks, jerking his head towards the armory, which is primarily armed with spears and knives and other such things.

Len makes a face. He appreciates a good knife as much as the next guy, but he doesn’t actually like fighting for the sake of fighting. That’s more Mick’s game.

He misses Mick.

Len crushes that thought before it’s even formed, because he doesn’t actually want Mick to be dead anytime soon, even though his presence might be the sole thing that makes this place tolerable. Mick would probably enjoy crushing them all.

“No,” he says instead. “Going to work on my ‘fruit and vegetable’ petition. I’ve never appreciated a salad more.”

Haukr laughs and shakes his head. “You’re as crazy as old Håkon, and he’s Úlfheðinn,” he says, amused.

Len smiles the smile of someone who has no idea what the fuck that means and is increasingly tired of having to ask people to translate for him. He thinks it might mean something like berserker, but with wolves or something.

Haukr doesn’t bother explaining, opting instead to get up from the table and head out to the fighting fields, Ivar close behind him.

Len waits until they’re gone before slinking out of the main part of the great hall. It’s a big place – possibly infinite – but he’s found a few places which aren’t so crowded that he can relax and think about what to do about his currently untenable situation.

Thinking he was going to die is one thing. Waking up and being informed that you’ve been recruited to fight in the army of your adopted father (what even), who is apparently the big tall scary guy with the one eye sitting on the throne in the middle of the room with the two ravens (what even), and then basically being ditched by said adopted father (at least that’s familiar?) to practice until you’re called upon for service of some unspecified sort - that's a whole different kettle of fish. This is not Len’s idea of a good afterlife, no thank you.

Not least because Len doesn’t actually like being of service to anyone. Ever.

He doesn’t go anywhere near said big tall and scary, who’s preoccupied with other things anyway – other gods come to talk to him, sometimes, usually Tiny Hammer Guy (Thor? Thrum? something?), Mr. One-hand, or Shiny Farm Guy, and sometimes he goes out with them, but either way, Len started his time here in Valhalla by observing, and he may not know much about the god everyone calls the All Father, but he knows everything he needs to about the guy.

Including the wisdom of not even thinking his name.

Len never liked bullies, and that applies to gods, too. The guy rubbed him the wrong way by claiming to be Len’s new father (what even, part forty two) and nothing Len’s heard about since has improved his opinion even a little. Slaughter, war, manipulation, treachery – seems like this guy’s stock in trade makes him well suited to be one of Len’s criminal companions, but not necessarily one that Len would ever work with and certainly never for.

Reminds him a bit of his real father, actually, if Lewis wasn’t a dumb fuck. Luckily for Len’s mood, he-who-shall-not-be-named-but-isn’t-nearly-as-cool-as-Voldemort-yes-even-book-seven-Voldemort is absent today.

There’s a croaking sound as one of the ravens settles down on the table next to Len.

“You are not wrong, who deem/That my days have been a dream,” Len tells him.

“That’s ‘A Dream Within A Dream’,” the raven croaks back, annoyed. “Wrong one, again.”

“Guess I don’t know my Poe,” Len says.

“Just make the goddamn Nevermore joke already and get it out of your system,” it says.

Clearly Muninn. Huginn actually thinks Len is pretty funny, even if he’ll never admit it – at least, he does after Len treated him to a ten minute lecture on the concept of intrusive thoughts after that one time when he’d decided to come visit while Len was taking a bath and perched on the edge of the bathtub.

Len had also accused him of being a pervert, but Huginn had responded by pointedly commenting on Greek mythology, which, fair. Not relevant, since Len’s a Jew, but fair.

“I’m not plagiarizing Neil Gaiman,” Len informs Muninn primly. “You ever read American Gods?”

“I’m a raven.”

“And that’s an excuse for illiteracy?”

“I can read!”

“So you’re just lazy about keeping up with good literature, that it?”

Muninn rolls his eyes – not a thing Len knew ravens could do before he came here – and flies away out the window, presumably to go about his information collecting rounds, the nasty little snitch.

The Big Guy might have a mild inclination to keep an eye – the one he’s got left, anyway – on Len, but Len’s learned the skill of being just the right mix of incredibly well-behaved and incredibly annoying that drives jailors out of their skulls in Iron Heights, and the gods have nothing on them.

(At this point, the ravens showing up isn’t a demonstration of the Chief’s interest so much as it is their own morbid curiosity.)

Len heads towards the currently empty throne area, only to nearly get tackled by a giant husky with bad breath that’s bigger than Len is.

“Geri, damnit,” Len says, trying not to laugh. “Geri. Geri, we’ve talked about this. We do not jump on people to say hello.”

Geri licks Len’s face, entirely undeterred.

“Oh god, no, you eat corpses, Geri! I can smell it! No! Stop! Desist!”

Eventually Len manages to untangle himself, mostly by virtue of spending a good ten minutes scritching Geri behind the ears until the gigantic beast rolls over onto his belly.

Then he spends another ten minutes giving Geri a belly rub, because Len is weak if you walk on four legs and are adorably fluffy. At least, he is if no one's looking.

“Good Geri,” he praises him. “Who’s a good boy? You’re a good boy, yes you are, Geri, good Geri! Such a good doggie. You’re the best doggie, yes you are, my little corpse-eater, you. Oh, ugh, I’m going to have to give you another toothbrushing later, aren’t I?” Len makes a face as Geri’s breath rolls out in a miasma that stinks of eau de dead thing. “Yes, yes, I am, aren’t I? Still, not your fault your master’s a dumbass, yes he is. But it’s not your fault, is it, because you’re a good boy.”

Geri yips happily, tail wagging like a madman. Someone told Len that Geri’s actually a wolf, which is clearly just ridiculous. Sure, he’s big, pony-sized big, but he totally looks like a slightly larger version of a husky Len saw once. Maybe a husky-Newfoundland mix or something. And have you seen the size of the goat on the roof? Now that’s big.

Admittedly, Len’s never actually seen a wolf – Central City was more coyote territory, if anything - but seriously, Geri’s way too cute. His brother Freki, too.

“Where’s your brother, huh?” Len asks, not expecting an answer.

“Afghanistan,” Huginn says, flapping by lazily in Muninn’s wake. Huginn’s the faster of the two ravens, but sometimes, for no reason, he takes a meandering path.

Len can sympathize. His thoughts do that sometimes, too.

Doesn’t mean he has any patience for Huginn’s shit.

“Three words, birdie-boy,” he says. “Cognitive behavioral therapy. I’ll thought the shit right out of you.”

Huginn barks a laugh and wheels out the window as well.

“I’m threatening him with Prozac next time,” Len mutters, getting up off his knees. Geri yips happily and jumps up as well, tail wagging happily. His head easily comes up to Len’s torso, even bowed.

He is a very big doggie.

Len absently puts his hand on Geri’s ears as he walks through the entranceway that the gods usually use. Sure, the other einherjar avoid it like the plague, but no one’s ever actually said that humans weren’t supposed to go through that way.

Also, there are apples.

Len nearly broke down and cried the first time he saw the tree with the golden apples. Sweet, sweet Vitamin C. If he ever sees Mick again, he’s apologizing for all the stupid things he ever said about vegetables being optional and/or best served in ketchup form.

But he’s not going apple-picking today – not least because Ms. Goldilocks Iðunn nearly caught him again last time, and he’s not sure giving her big wide eyes and a quivering lip is going to work yet another time.

(“You don’t understand,” he told her. “I’m craving salad. Salad!”

She covered her mouth. “That’s not an excuse,” she replied, but she’s about three seconds away from cracking.

“I’m dreaming of beets. Beets. And turnips. That’s a fate worse than death.”

She made a slightly strangled sound, struggling to keep her face from smiling.

He decided to switch tracks. “Is it true that they call you Þjazi's booty?” he asks, having heard that story just the day before by the fire.

“Yes, it’s true,” she replied, slightly puzzled.

“Well, now I know I’m doomed,” he sighs dramatically.

“…why do you say so?”

“In the words of my mother’s people, the booty don’t lie.”

Her howls of laugher had followed him all the way out of the orchard, apples safely in hand.)

No, today he’s going to continue his explorations of the other parts of not-Midgard-that’s-Earth-it’s-the-other-one-fuck-Norse-naming-conventions. Aesirgard? Asgard? Whatever. Sure, he could limit himself to Valhalla, but he’s already figured out the pattern of the place: sleeping quarters, eating hall, bathing area, armory, repeat ad nauseum. It’s like someone built the whole place based on the copy-paste function.

At least there’s some variety out here.

Today, he’s going for the big barn-like building. Going by the smell, he’s going to guess that it’s the stables. Luckily, he still has one of Iðunn’s apples left; he figures he’ll be all right.

He doubts there’s anything valuable there – he’s already gotten bored picking leaves off of Glasir, because what’s even the point of stealing golden leaves that no one else wants? – but he believes in being thorough.

Since he apparently has forever.

Or until Ragnarök, anyway. Whatever that is. People don’t like to talk about it for some reason.

Len cracks open the door and slips in, Geri padding along silently behind him.

“Well,” Len says, squinting around as his eyes adjust to the relative dark. “It’s…definitely a stable.”

He walks over to the first pen, then stop and stares.

“Goats,” he says flatly. “More giant goats.”

The goats ignore him, as goats have a tendency to do.

“Do you eat sweaters?” Len asks them. “Mi– my partner, he once said that goats ate everything, but that they liked his sweaters best.”

They don’t answer.

He steps back and studies them at a slight distance. “Any relation to old Heiðrún?” he asks. “You’re a lot smaller than she is, but you’re also, uh, more male.” He pauses and wrinkles his nose. “Oh, man, now I really hope that all that she-goat mead isn’t a milk substitute, because ew. This is why food should come out of prepackaged plastic wrap.”

The goats continue to ignore him.

Len wonders if they have names.

Geri abruptly yips joyfully and darts ahead, into the dark of the stable. Len frowns and trots after him, only to find him happily chasing a circle around a long-suffering looking cat, which is having exactly none of it.

A very, very fluffy, very, very, very large cat.

“Holy cat,” Len says, because – wow. “Look at you. If you ain’t the most gorgeous kitty I’ve ever seen, I don't know what is,” he says sincerely, because the fluff. It’s so – fluffy. It’s massive. It’s a dire version of a Norwegian forest cat, or a Maine Coon, Len’s not sure, but he’s leaning towards Norway because, well, context. But still. The cat is as big as a small bear, and the fluff has got to be a whole another bear just by itself. “You must hate rainstorms.”

“You have no idea,” a voice says from behind him.

Len manages to keep himself from jumping in surprise, and turns.

“Okay, no. No. This is a step too far. Explain this to me - why does Viking heaven have Mr. Ed?” Len asks accusingly.

The horse, giant like the rest of them, well above a normal horse’s size and Len has seen horses before so he knows, brays a laugh. “I like that,” it – he? Okay, yep, definitely a he, this is 100% a stallion and not a gelding and also why does Len do this to himself – says. “Mr. Ed. A talking horse, I assume?”

“Old television program,” Len says resentfully. “No one here even knows what television is.”

“There aren’t really a lot of new einherjar these days,” the horse says, shrugging. Given how huge it is, there’s a lot of shrugging going on there. Whole muscle groups are involved.

“How many hands are you?” Len asks, studying him. “I don’t actually know how big a ‘hand’ is, but I could probably math it backwards.”

The horse brays again. “I don’t think anyone’s ever counted, honestly,” he says when he’s done snickering. “I like you.”

“Thanks, Ed.”

“Ed?”

“Well, you haven’t given me any other name to call you by,” Len points out. “Not like there are any nameplates either.”

“Good point,” the horse says. “But no, I like Ed. Keep going with that.”

“Gee, thanks. And what should I call Goats 1 and 2? They’re one short for the Billy Goats Gruff.”

Ed snickers. “Tanngrisnir and Tanngnjóstr,” he says. “Teeth-barer and teeth-grinder, respectively."

“Really?” Len says. He doesn’t mean to be doubtful, but they’re, well…kind of placid. “That’s like naming your Pekingese ‘Bruiser’. Unless they’ve been turned into a vampire, because in that case, name away. Still pissed they never gave him a name in the movie…”

“I don’t even want to understand what twists your minds just took,” Ed says, but he’s definitely amused. “You know, I haven’t said that about anyone for years; you should be complimented.”

“I successfully piss off Huginn and Munnin on a regular basis,” Len informs Ed. “I am complimented.”

Ed snickers.

“So, does the cat have a name?”

“Cats, plural,” Ed corrects.

Len immediately scans the area for a second giant cat.

“Rafters.”

Len looks up.

“That’s a lot of fluff to balance on one rafter,” he says admirably.

“They don’t have names, I’m afraid,” Ed says. “Freyja just never bothered.”

“Actually, that makes sense,” Len says thoughtfully. “They are cats. Cats are above such petty things as names; they are merely kind enough to sometimes answer to descriptive terms barely worthy of their worship.”

He’s joking, of course, but he swears the cat that Geri is trying (unsuccessfully) to convince to play with him gives him an approving look.

“Right,” Ed says, shaking his mane. “You’re going to give them an ego.”

“They’re cats, they already know they’re superior to us,” Len says dismissively. “I’m going to be stereotypical and call you Rumpleteazer, okay?” he asks the one ignoring Geri. “Likes to create chaos with her partner, Mungojerrie, who can be Mr. Rafters up there.”

She considers this for a long minute and purrs approvingly.

“I think that’s the furthest any man has gotten with Freyja’s cats since I’ve met them,” Ed observes. “Well done. What will be your next trick? Hoop-jumping? Fire-breathing?”

“I like you,” Len tells Ed. “You’re kind of a dick. I appreciate that in people.” He pauses. “And horses, apparently.”

Ed shuffles his legs in mock-embarrassment, which makes Len have to rub his eyes because he would have sworn –

“Yes, there are eight,” Ed says.

“Thought I was seeing double,” Len says gratefully.

“You should probably get back,” Ed says with a sigh. “They’ll eventually notice you’re missing, and time in the Hall works differently from out here. It’ll be almost evening for them.”

“I’ll be back tomorrow,” Len offers. “And here, something to remember me by till then.”

He pulls the apple out of his pocket and offers it to Ed.

Ed stares at it for a long moment.

“What?” Len asks, a little uncomfortable. “I thought horses liked apples.”

“We do,” Ed says. “It’s just – that’s a – you know what, never mind.” He leans forward and lips at the apples, picking it up delicately with his teeth before crunching into it with all sounds of evident delight. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” Len says. “Should I bring some Sæhrímnir-meat for the Hammerhead Hannigans tomorrow?”

“…they’d probably like some bones,” Ed allows. “I see that you’re very frustrated by no one getting your references.”

“I’m bunking with people who think similes are the height of humor,” Len says sulkily. “They even like puns! It’s not as much fun if someone’s not groaning.”

“I knew someone once who’d like you very much,” Ed remarks. “Now go.”

“Yeah, yeah. Geri, heel,” Len calls, whistling sharply.

Geri bounds over and Len rewards him with scritches.

“…just so you know, you disturb me greatly,” Ed says.

Len snickers and heads back to the hall, ducking back in just in time for Huginn to fly through the window like a bat out of hell.

Len wonders what the news is, but opts to go help himself to some Sæhrímnir, because it has in fact been a while since he’s eaten. Oh, look, they’re having it ‘boiled in the cook-pot’ style. Again.

“Have you considered alternate forms of preparation?” he asks Andhrímnir.

“Don’t start with that again,” the god-cook replies. “You don’t even know what a fricassee is.”

[ecotone99]

[RF] How Tinder made me realise that I’m a bad person (I am female).

\All names have been changed for the sake of anonymity.*

PART ONE:

NO ANSWER

One of the most frustrating thing about being a bad person, is knowing you’re a bad person but not being able — or not wanting — to stop it.

I joined Tinder back in 2014. I was 22, and attractive enough to get hit on once a day (which isn’t boasting — most girls my age receivethe same kind of attention). While out to dinner one night, my entire circle of female friends joined at the same moment, agreeing that we’d enjoy the novelty of selecting men based on their photo and seeing if those men returned the favour. I can’t speak for all of them, but I assumed that the idea of actually conversing with any of these men — let alone meeting up with one — never entered any of our minds.

For the first week or so, I was very selective on who I “swiped right”, and I “matched” with every single one of them either instantly or within a day of the swipe. Most of the men would open with some asinine question or ho-hum one-liner. I was never even remotely interested in replying.

What was interesting is that most, if not all of these men would take my lack of response as a failure to make a good first impression. So they’d try again, and again, and again, each message using a different tactic to try and get me to reply.

The order of events almost always went as follows: they’d start out with wit, then self-deprecation, then earnestness. Then they’d throw out a compliment, then downplay that compliment, then say something “jokingly” mean, then something casually judgemental. Then they’d get apologetic, then attempt to explain away their multiple messages as the opposite of desperate. Then would come the passive aggression, then the slight suggestion of actual aggression, then actual aggression, and then finally they’d explode into outright, chauvinistic, insult-ridden rage.

My girlfriends — at least, the ones who hadn’t started actually interacting with their matches — were experiencing almost identical patterns of behaviour when met with radio silence. While we’d have have a chuckle about it, most of the girls would express guilt and admit that what they were doing was mean. Just as we all pledged to download the app, we made a pact to delete it.

I was part of that pact, but curiously, had no intention of honouring it. My dirty little secret was that unlike them, I felt no guilt, found it genuinely hilarious, and almost enjoyed the experience of witnessing someone grow increasingly insane as they have a one-way conversation with a series of pictures.

At the time, I rationalised this enjoyment and lack of guilt as harmless. If anything, I was proving that most men are entitled and that directly beneath any man’s kind exterior lied an aggressive, woman-hating asshole. My 22-year-old self would even go as far as to think that my actions were reasonable, or even honourable — a feministic method of unveiling man’s true colours.

So, I started swiping right on a less-discerning selection of men. Those that I didn’t find aesthetically appealing, even those whose profiles were blatantly ignorant or bigoted, would get a swipe to the east.

And boy, the cross-section of insanity demonstrated by this larger sample size was gobsmacking. These reactions to my radio silence were more entertaining that any book, than any film or TV show. I became addicted to guessing the path each individual would take towards a meltdown, and it even got to the point that upon receiving a particular message, I could predict exactly what would come next,almost down to the letter.

Deep down, I knew this wasn’t acceptable behaviour, so I only told one friend about it — the one who had issues with men in general. We’d both have a laugh about it, but I’d downplay how much I was getting off on it. She was one of the girls who had been on the receiving end of similar meltdown’s, but now just used Tinder as a means of validation — propped up by the fact that all these guys thought she was hot, but “nice” enough to instantly delete them after the ego fix. Even then, she expressed guilt over the behaviour and said she was a few days away from deleting the app.

Most of my other girlfriends had grown to use Tinder alongside their real-life dating world, and one had even entered a relationship with someone she met on it. Very quickly, the world was starting to embrace this kind of technology- and it was no longer deemed as desperate or sad to use the net to meet people. So, I could no longer be as open about how I still thought it was all so pathetic.

I thought I’d grow tired of this eventually, and that the intentional provocation would soon be a thing of the past. I was right about the first part.

PART II

ANSWER

Mark was a sports journalist. He liked Rugby Union and Game of Thrones. He enjoyed socialising but also a quiet night in with a boutique beer. He was looking for anything from fun to something more.

He had light grey eyes, one hell of a beach body, and a tiny moustache that looked like a splayed-out dead spider. And he was the first match to which I actually replied.

Mark’s one-way conversation was carried out over a period of weeks. He was one of the rare guys who only messaged every once in a while, and whose meltdown wasn’t as extreme as the others. In fact, I’d say he didn’t melt all the way down. Or very far down at all. He would just say random things that popped into his head, but none of them seemed like tactics. Almost like he was using our chatbox as a notepad.

Then one evening, when I was on an actual date with a guy who would end up being my boyfriend, he wrote a long message that really hit a nerve. He called me on thoughts I hadn’t shared with anyone, as if he knew I had this bizarre, voyeuristic bent. But he wasn’t aggressive about it, he was matter of fact, maybe even a little understanding. If I wasn’t four prosecco’s down, then I probably wouldn’t have replied.

But I did. I told him that what he said was ridiculously insulting and that I’d been super busy and not looking at the app. I told him thathe was a judgemental asshole and that just because he was a man he wasn’t owed a reply.

The label of entitled chauvinist didn’t sit well with Mark, and his reply was apologetic and remorseful. When I didn’t respond, he made aneven deeper apology. He then tried to explain his intentions, then admitted that something in his past had made him not trust women, buthe was working on it. Before long, just like all the others, he landed on Agression Island; retracting his apology and reinforcing his

judgements of me. The last few messages were filled with some of the most vile, disturbing insults I’d ever read.

And I loved every minute of it. The insults had no effect on me, as I knew the intention behind them — to make me feel as bad as they did.

Mark helped me. realise that through my replies, I could make menmeltdown in more interesting ways. Without saying much at all, I could essentially control the way they felt about themselves. No longer was I an innocent bystander watching a train-wreck. I was laying objects on the track that would cause it. It was so much more thrilling, and equally satisfying.

Unlike during the period of intentional radio silence, after Mark, I did feel a fleeting pang of guilt. Or to be more honest, guilt over the fact that I should feel more guilty. In my real, face-to-face world, I would never, ever think to treat a man in this way. This was almost like a game. A first-person adventure game where the aim was to prove every man was, deep down, a horrible animal.

By now, I was in a semi-serious relationship, but I wasn’t willing to give up my secret pastime. Afraid my online world would intersect withthe real one, I deleted my existing Tinder account, then created a new one under a different name, a different age, and linked to a different

Facebook account (this was back when you had to use Facebook in order to use Tinder). I put up photos that looked the least like I did in real life, or ones that featured my body and only offered a suggestion of my face. As far as I was concerned, I could have been anyone.

I’m not sure how long this post-radio silence stage lasted. But if you’re interested, here are some of the messages I received during thereply period:

Example 1.

“I am the last person who would ever call a girl the c-word, but I am so close to using it for the first time right now. I’m not going to let you provoke me into saying it. I’m not going to let you win. I’m unmatching you”

Then, 20 mins later, from the same guy:

“You are a cunt”.

Then, the following morning:

“I can’t believe I called someone a cunt. I’m actually crying here. I can’t believe you made me do something I never thought I’d ever do. Ididn’t mean it. You definitely deserved to be called something, but not that. You might have not been very nice to me, but I went further than you and I deserve any insult you can think of.”

Then, not long after.

“God, you really are a cunt, aren’t you? Turns out there are actual girls out there that deserve the word. Learn something new every day.”

User 2

“You’re exactly like every other attention-seeking whore on here. You probably have like 8 sugar daddies and fuck anyone with their own boat. I look forward to when your looks fade and you’re sitting in the corner of a bar, staring at your prune hands and wondering where it all went wrong. Luckily, I have a good heart. Have a nice life.”

Then, a bit later from the same guy.

“I hope you get raped by a homeless man”

Yet, no matter the severity, I still didn’t take any of their insults to heart. The more severe the message; the more it’s intention was to hurt me — the wider my grin. I know it’s warped, but all it meant that I had won by a larger margain.

What did insult me, though, was the rare case of a guy not taking the bait and unmatching me without a reply. I’d experience a never-before-felt inner anger, and be in a horrible mood for the rest of the day. One time, I even tried to find one such guy on Facebookbased on his first name, but quickly realised the desperation of such an endeavour.

So, I guess, with all the above in mind, and a bit of hindsight, when I matched with a guy who not only didn’t take the bait, but both revelled in my attempts to rattle him, but also gave back in a way that I couldn’t put down to chauvinism or privilege, it’s understandable that I, for the first time and on an impulse, agreed to do something I’d never do.

PART III

MEETING.

I agreed to meet Maurice in roughly an hour after our online exchange. If it had been any longer, I would have cancelled. As the hour progressed, the exhilaration of our text confrontation was interrupted by thoughts of my actual life and “real” character out in the real world.

By the time it reached ten minutes before our scheduled meeting, I was back in societally polite mode, wondering what the heck I was doing. Not only did I have a boyfriend for whom I genuinely cared, but I was taking something that wasn’t quite real — something I framed as a twisted online game — into real life. So I quickly made a decision.

As soon as we’d meet, I’d admit that I only agreed to it in order to apologise. I’d say that I was just fucking with him and that I was actually a nice person. I’d reveal that I had a boyfriend but suggest we still have a friendly drink and chat so as not to come across as atotal asshole. Then I’d head on home.

Even though he was about a half-block away, waiting at a pedestrian light, I instantly recognised Maurice. He was an overweight, balding man in his 40s, who was even more overweight and hairless than in hisphotos. But as the light turned green and he started towards me — I was taken aback. He had the swagger of a man who knew he had it going on but didn’t have to show it off. Think the air of Ryan Gosling trapped in the owner of an old mom and pop burger joint.

We shook hands, and I was polite and light. As was he, but as we walked to the closest pub, he retained this knowing, almost devilish grin.

After a single drink, it seemed that Maurice wasn’t intimidated by my looks, nor my youth. It didn’t seem as if he had any interest in trying to impress me. At first, I thought this was his act — the only way a man like him could reach out of his league (I know that sounds mean, but we really were apples and oranges when it came to level of hotness), but then he began to compliment me on my online attempts to get him riled up — quoting some of my best messages. He was genuinely impressed by that behaviour — as if the worse my text provocation, the more interesting it made me.

This threw me for a loop. My polite-mode switch was trembling, eager to edge towards the off position. The hunger with which lead me to cut online men down to size, began to rumble in my belly.

So, I began picking away at anything he told me about his life. Not like I would have online — more akin to light-hearted teasing. Every time I thought of a genuinely meanspirited provocation, it just wouldn’t leave my mouth. When he argued that looks are subjective and that personality can turn roadkilled pizza into the Statue of David, I made an obviously light-hearted comment about the size of the latters’ nether-organ.

Instead of faux-self-deprecation or puffing out his chest out of insecurity, he stared me right in the eye and told me the exact size of his penis and how it was below average. He then said that from experience, he knew for sure that the “it’s not the size, but what you do with it” argument was only a half-truth, and that over the years, due to his size often not satisfying a woman, he’d become an expert at using his mouth.

It’s as if he knew that it was going to be something that I found out anyway, so he’d may as well be honest. In other words, he was certain I was going to see it, and see it that night. The thing is, it didn’t read as arrogance, and while it came across as confident, it wasn’t confidence. It was just…as if, it was a given — a fact spoken in the same fashion as if replying to “what’s the time?”

The drinks kept flowing, and the more I tried to rattle him with mean-spirited banter, the more he seemed to enjoy it. When my teasing turned to outright bitchiness, he only seemed to enjoy it more. The rage inside me was a whistling like a kettle. I wanted to wield the same sharp harshness that I could online. I wanted to crack open his personality and watch the insecure devil ooze out onto the already sticky pub floor. Most of all, I wanted to win.

But I just couldn’t seem to get there.

I can try to blame drinking for the decision I ended up making, but truth be told, it wasn’t the booze — it was desperation. I escaped to the bathroom, rushed into a stall, where I was able to fully access the Tinder part of my personality. I almost instantly figured out what I could lay on the tracks to cause this elusive train-wreck.

My plan was to go home with him, sleep with him, and, as I was never a huge fan of cunnilingus anyway, use his inability to satisfy me through that method as a way to crack him open. Funnily enough, though I found him aesthetically repulsive, the idea of sleeping with him wasn’t actually grossing me out. I think a tiny part of me was attracted to him.

When he ended up going down on me, it may have felt a bit better than it ever had in the past, but not enough for him to notice. I feigned boredom and lay like a frozen fish until he eventually gave up. When I said it wasn’t happening for me, he was convinced I was faking it just to rattle him, and initially seemed unfazed. He even asked if I wanted to have one last drink before I left.

As we sipped on some cheap red, I noticed a slight shift in his demeanour. I continued to taunt him for his delusions about being some master of cunnilingus, and the more I taunted, the more his magnetic persona seemed destabilised. Finally, when I said that I pitied him, the meltdown began.

Eventually, he was sobbing. Turns out that he despised himself, that the only way he ever attracted a woman was through well-honed, fake bravado, and that the only thing he thought he ever had going for him was his ability to pleasure a woman through cunnilingus. I’d reduced him to nothing, and he could tell that I was revelling in it.

Just as I’d hoped — he turned into every other man — hurling vile insults at me and kicking me out the door. As I neatened my outfit in the elevator mirror, I couldn’t help but beam. It was the beam of someone who’d just won Olympic gold.

As my journey home progressed, I was exhilarated, yet increasingly sick at the fact that I was exhilarated. I thought my online exploits were a game — but now that I’d got off on it in real life, and still felt no guilt — what did that mean? Was I genuinely evil? I couldn’t be a sociopath because I love and care for others, am always considering my family’s feelings, and the idea of hurting them even a hair upsets me to no end.

Where did this desire to hurt men come from? Was I repressing something from my youth? Some horrible treatment at the hands of a man? No matter how much I looked inwards or filed through my memories, I couldn’t think of a reason. I’d never been hurt by a man. I’d never even been dumped by one. My father was decent, loving, and dedicated to my mother. There was no explanation. I felt like the devil.

PART IV

CATCHING

I did, however, feel guilty for cheating on my boyfriend. Over the weeks that followed, I began monitoring his behaviour for any signs of infidelity. When we went out, I would accuse him of looking at other women. If he talked about a female work colleague, I’d ask suspicious questions. Eventually, I found a. way to access his emails and Facebook account to see if he was doing anything remotely dishonest.

He wasn’t.

The longer this went on, the more he seemed to be shutting down. He’d always doted on me, worshipped my body, showered me in romance. He usually couldn’t get enough of me. But now, it was as if he knew that something was up, and was waiting for me to confess.

Turns out, he knew more than “something was up”, but it wasn’t the sleeping with Maurice. It was the fact that my online behaviour had gotten back to him. A new client from work had seen my picture on his phone screen, and said it looked a little like a girl he’d met on Tinder. Once they became chummy enough to converse over a couple of beers, they came to the conclusion that I was that girl. That not only was I on multiple dating apps, but I had taunted him on his looks, on his job, on anything about his life that he shared.

When my boyfriend called me on it — I said that yes, I’d been using dating apps, but only as a lark, to prove that most men were actually. horrible underneath. I said that while it wasn’t admirable behaviour, that I’d only done it to a handful of men, and that they deserved to be proven for what they were. To justify my actions, I invented the story of a fake ex-boyfriend who had hurt me deeply — so deeply that I’d never before mentioned him.

My boyfriend bought it, but said that this was a side of me that he didn’t know existed, and that he needed some time to digest it. He wasn’t breaking up with me. He was just trying to figure out how he felt about it. He was perhaps the most avid male supporter of women’s rights I’d ever met, and that fact, coupled with his own past issues with bullying at the hands and mouths of boys, meant that he shared the belief that most men were assholes.

He decided that in theory, he understood why I did what I did, but that I should probably talk to someone professional, just for my own inner peace. I agreed, and also agreed to delete the apps.

I never went to a shrink, and keep telling my boy that I will, eventually. I now have a second phone, and dating app profiles that show my body, but obscure my face. I even used photoshop to mask anything identifying. I match with just as many men, and take them down just as hard. When I occasionally match with a Maurice-type, I meet them in person. and do what I can to force a meltdown. I can’t stop. I know it’s going to catch up with me soon, but it doesn’t make a difference. This is my addiction. I enjoy it and hate that I enjoy it more than anything on earth.I know now, that part of me is genuinely bad. And as I said, the hardest part about being a bad person is in knowing you’re a bad person. There’s only one man that I haven’t steered towards a meltdown — one that I’m fighting so hard not to do it to. But I fantasise aboutit all the time, and it’s only a matter of time before I get to him too.

He’s currently lying next to me.

submitted by /u/humansofindoors [link] [comments] via Blogger https://ift.tt/2uIusoi

[courtreadsmostlyfiction]

My Best Books of 2018

I thought last year was a hard year, and I think 2018 heard that and said “challenge accepted!” I spend a lot of time this year anxious and depressed, and luckily one of my coping mechanisms is reading (also luckily I have health insurance and found a treatment program to learn more coping skills). My goal was 100 books (same as 2017, and I met that goal on December 31, 2017), but I hit that in August, so I upped the goal to 160. As of this writing, I have read 173 books (holy forking shirtballs!), and here are the best ones: 

Best book regardless of category: There There by Tommy Orange

If I’ve talked to you about books this year, then you’ve heard about this book and about how much I love it (when I thought it was left off the Washington Post 50 best fiction books of 2018, I was going to cancel my subscription; then I turned the page and saw that it was on their 10 best books so all was well). It’s a debut (which is amazing) and expertly grapples with identity and trauma and violence. It’s one of those books where I felt like the author was writing sentences straight from my brain and feelings straight from my heart. I’ve wondered if I love it so much because of my Native identity, and I wonder if I should have a disclaimer that I’m biased, and as I write this, I also don’t care. I’m biased toward fucking awesome books. It’s amazing, it’s on the top lists for a reason, and read it already!

Best fiction:

An American Marriage - first of all, this is $6.28 on kindle today, so buy it if you haven’t read it already. If you made a venn diagram of race, racism, marriage, the American criminal justice system, and injustice, this book would be at the center. The characters are human and there are no easy answers. 

Pachinko - this is an epic novel, about a Korean family living in Japan in the 20th century, that illustrates what immigrants must do to survive. Unfortunately timely. (Also, you should read it even if this weren’t the case, but I don’t often think that epic sagas are page turners, but this was).

Swimming Lessons - If my best fiction list were one of those “one of these things is not like the other” this would be the other. The thing all 4 of these books have in common is incredible writing, but this one feels lighter. I’m not sure if that’s an apt description because the material is heavy, but it feels limited to one family versus entire peoples. It’s smart, tightly plotted, and full of surprises. (The only thing I didn’t L-O-V-E was the ending, but I still gave it a 5 star review because of the other 97% of the book). Anyway, read it, too. (In case you need at least a sentence about the book to consider it: a wife writes letters to her husband and hides them in books, then disappears and twelve years later, her daughters come home when he is ill and thinks he has seen his wife.)

Best mystery/thriller:

The Banker’s Wife - I couldn’t put this down, and I recommended it to Grant before we went to the beach for the week. He told me he had already made his beach reading list, and that I was giving him beach-reading-anxiety. I dared him to read one page, and this book made it to the list. (In the first chapter - a plane containing a banker goes down on its way to Geneva, and in the rest of the book, his widow tries to figure out what happened.)

The Bone Readers - I found this book because it won the 2017 Jhalak prize (for British writers of color) and it deserves much more attention and acclaim. It’s a crime story in the Caribbean with the unforgettable Miss Stanislaus, and I JUST FOUND OUT THAT IT IS THE FIRST BOOK IN A TRILOGY. All best books should be, right? (And it is $3.99 on kindle today!)

Bruno series - If you like Three Pines (of Louise Penny’s making), I think you’d like the Bruno books. Bruno is a rule breaker but moral follower, the books take place in rural France, and there’s a mystery and fabulous descriptions of food. What else do you need?

Best young adult/youth:

Leah on the Offbeat - Did you see the movie Love, Simon? It was based off a book by this same author. Leah is Simon’s bi friend, and I don’t know if I can express how much it meant to read an awesome book with a bi character. I can only imagine what it would have been like if I had read this in middle or high school, and maybe I would have come out to my family before the age of 37.

Children of Blood and Bone - I saw this described as Hunger Games in Africa (which is honestly why I picked it up), but it’s so much more / better than that description. It’s a fantasy about trying to get magic back, and it is a magical book. Read it.

Penderwicks series - I got the first book (The Penderwicks) to read to Ox, but he didn’t love it. I fell head over heels with the girls and wish this series would have been around when I was growing up. See if you can resist Rosalind, Sky, Jane and Batty.

The Vanderbeekers of 141st Street - The kids in this biracial family are determined to not lose their family brownstone in Harlem. So good!

Best romance:

I don’t usually read romance, so I’m not sure if these would be categorized here in a bookstore, but also don’t let this categorization turn you away. If you enjoy rom-com movies, you’d like these.

The Wedding Date - Roxane Gay recommended this book, and it’s so fun and steamy and real. What happens when you get stuck on an elevator with a hot guy? Read it and find out.

Cafe by the Sea - I found Jenny Colgan books this year, and they make me want to run away to Scotland (a place I’ve never really wanted to visit), and open a bookstore or cafe. If you need to escape with a light read (that doesn’t have horrible writing) where it’s pretty likely two people end up together, pick this up. After I read this, I kept reading her books and am now rationing them for myself so I have one when I need a light read or need to kick start my reading mojo.

Best nonfiction:

This blog is CourtReadsMostlyFICTION for a reason, and I rarely pick up non-fiction. So you know the books below have to be phenomenal to make it on my list.

Heavy - I just finished this heartbreaking and searing memoir about trauma, abuse, survival, family, writing, success, black bodies, and weight, and I will be thinking about it for a long time. Kiese, thank you for your courage and words. (I’m also a fan of his novel Long Division.)

Heart Berries - I read this when I was in my partial hospitalization treatment program (and in the memoir, Terese also gets mental health treatment), and while I think it might not have been the best time to read such an honest account, it’s probably a good time for you to read what we do to Native women.

Calypso - I am thankful I live in a time when I get to read new David Sedaris words pretty frequently. I have high expectations for his work, and this sailed over it. It’s still funny, but really thoughtful about suicide and loss and Trump and partners. Also, I read the essay Still Standing (about his episode with a stomach virus) when my whole family was vomiting and shitting and nothing else made us laugh.

Becoming - This is going to come out wrong, but I didn’t think I’d enjoy this book, much less love it. But it’s so real and so readable, and not a typical political memoir. I have loved the Obamas for a long time, but now I might have a new favorite one. It’s number one on the Amazon charts right now, so you’ve probably read it, too, so let’s just talk about how wonderful and human she is, okay?

Best poetry:

There Are More Beautiful Things Than Beyoncè - I saw Morgan Parker read with Roxane Gay, and one of the lines from her poems stuck with me (I just want to understand my savings account. What is happening to my five dollar one cent.) I never read poetry, but read two of her volumes back to back because I loved them so much (and will go back to them, something else I rarely do). Read it.

Best short stories:

You Think It, I’ll Say It - I love Curtis Sittenfeld (I have since Prep, and I’ve read everything she’s written since) but I was d-o-u-b-t-f-u-l of this book since in general I really fucking hate short stories. But I really loved this (beware, I’ve recommended it to two people and one person loved it and one person didn’t), in part because it is frankly post-Trump and because it is painfully and funnily real.

Florida - Let’s read EVERYTHING by Lauren Groff because she is this amazing as a person, and she writes short stories that I love (see paragraph above) and wonderful books. (Disclaimer - the person above who loved YTIISI did not love Florida, because it is dark and accurately portrays Florida.)

Single, Carefree, Mellow - Katharine if you are reading this, can we be friends already? From the author of Standard Deviation (top pick of 2017), this collection of short stories was un-put-down-able. ($5.49 on kindle right now!)

More List(s)!

My fave book recommenders have their top lists here: Matt Compton (if he recommends a book to me, or tweets about it, there’s a 99% chance I will love it); I’ll put a link to Roxane Gay’s list as soon as she publishes it (because it’s ROXANE GAY); the list for the 2019 Tournament of Books.