#since ive had his design down for a while... i guess i was too busy making refs for my other ocs at the time

[lizardbrainlabs]

*slides this across the table* ....my card

[antiloreolympus]

12 Anti LO Asks

1. its victim blaming of hades to tell minthe its HER fault she "couldnt get over him". like? you lied to her! youre the one who blurred the lines to date her! you were just as toxic to her if not more so by controlling where she lives and her job, all while never defending her to your cruel family! you had all the power over her while she had nothing! you dumped her for a 19 year old and dont care she crippled minthe! i wont excuse minthe's actions, but hades is ultimately the worse of the two IMO

2. you know why fans claimed "Minthe should've reacted better"? since the first episode Rachel has been drilling into their heads Minthe is an irredeemable monster, and her not bending over backwards to H/P means she deserves the absolute worst. Minthe reacting how anyone logically would doesn't matter when LO is designed to coddle H/P, and anyone against them must suffer for it, even if the victim to H/P's actions. they never wanted her to be "redeemed", they want her head on a silver platter.

3. i know this is not what she intended bc the only characterization rachel has of hxp is "the best over everything" but uh, does she know having hades control all the petroleum and gasses and whatever else is actively destroying the planet, right? like hes helping the very thing persephone draws her power from and what she's connected to be destroyed to appease hes need for wealth and power. its kinda gross hes being romanticized while he commits horrible acts like this for his bank account.

4. its not impossible to go opposite in their original myth personalities and still have it work. like in hades game, sisyphus is one of the most likable characters, achilles is gentle and kind, ares is calm and rational, etc, but it makes sense within the context of the story. LO in comparison goes "all these loving mothers are evil because i said so! this beloved god is now evil because i said so! minthe is evil because i said so!" and that's about it in terms of logic to these wild changes.

5. I can kinda get behind anon's theory about the flower nymphs looking like P to help her be undetected, the problem is there are also unrelated women in comic who are bright pink and look just like her, with hades even confusing them for her! if i had to bet the only reason they look like that is because rachel just wanted daphne to look like her to hammer home apollo is "obsessed" with P and to fake them as her "real family" over demeter. also just laziness in designing characters in general.

6. its weird hades and persephone are well aware what they're doing is bad even openly admitting it and yet the narrative is so hellbent on excusing their bad actions?? like hades being the major toxic factor in his relationship to minthe, persephone killing people, or hades wanting to bone an eternal 19 year old? like rachel you know thats not how character growth works, right? you cant show they have horrible flaws and leave them to never grow and learn from it, that's not good writing at all.

7. what i also dont get is the hierarchy makes no sense? like zeus is framed as the top god, but that would mean hades cant be the most important man ever so rachel also made him equal rank with zeus (and i guess poseidon too) so?? how does zeus have all that power over them then if theyre all equal? is it because zeus swallowed metis?  also how are the fertility goddess so powerful and rare yet so easily taken down? how are they overpowered and super weak at the same time? i just dont get it.

8. Re reading chapter 144 and other anon is right we do see the pomegranate pin on Hades outfit (so Hades gifts it to her)

But also some things to note

During the makeout session persy begins to disappear in butterfly form and hades is like "no don't leave!" And he grabs her, preventing her from leaving. Which is..kinda Ick considering they were on their way to having (public) sex and he doesn't want her to leave which seems like he's not really respecting her boundaries? (because if she does he'll "be lonely")

The pomegranate pin is Hades' to begin with so technically one of Persephones symbols is not hers (yes I know in the original myth she ate it in the underworld / was forced to eat it but still its supposed to be her symbol)

Hades notes that he "doesn't want to overstep his boundaries as host" because Persephone is a guest (too late for that)

Persephones main concern (after what a week or 2?) after being raped is when Hades wants to stop her reaction is "dont you want me anymore?"

Girl you aren't even dating ...??

Persy's literal one and only concern is that she thinks if she doesnt sleep with Hades right then or when/if he wants to that "she wont be able to give him what hes used to" ... Which is reinforcing that she went to therapy to get "over being blocked" in regards to having sex

Although Hades does mention that she shouldn't feel like she needs to please him and that a kiss can just be a kiss which would be nice

(And yet his thinking of marrying her amd he's known her for 2, 3 weeks? ... And he says "the beginning of a new relationship is exciting and scary" so hes basically indicating thay their dating at this point, I think?)

And later the nymphs in the store are like "do you wanna be the dominatrix of the bedroom?? Buy this lingerie!" And persy does. So??

Meanwhile Demeter is very worried for her daughter who is busy sitting in Hades lap in a pool. 

9. Can we talk about how anons are making fucking flow charts for the LO Timeline cause it's so ridiculously jumbled?

10. im not even against rushed relationships, ive known actual couples who met and were married all within the same year and it worked out great, the difference though is these were people who had their own lives and previous relationships. the issue with LO is RS designed it so Persephone can NEVER have relationships or a life outside of Hades, and if they did get married offscreen, it's framing their marriage in a toxic and unbalanced light. That's not a romance, it's a disaster waiting to happen.

11. i feel like there's a difference between drawing an interesting hooked/aquiline nose versus whatever the hell RS puts on Hades' face. It honestly looks like he's in between morphing into a bird half the time since it just looks like a beak over an actual facial feature.

12. are there shareholders or a board of advisors or something at underworld corp? because if there is id say they have more than enough reason to kick hades out and strip him of his titles/shares because of all the shit he's caused by being guided by his broken pp over thinking with his head. liking dating TWO employees? and getting one of them phsyically crippled by the other bc he can't be honest with either of them and she's a walking time bomb? he's a walking HR nightmare.

[anotherimaginethatblog]

Family Gatherings

Meet the parents.

Pairing: Kenny x reader

Warnings: small mention of something cheeky ... maybe more in part 2

Summary: you finally make the trip to meet Kenny’s family.

so i finally found the time to sit and write a little and this ended up being a lil longer than expected bit ive enjoyed writing this one, probably be a part two (possibly 3) so let me know what you think x 

hope you like it 

You were nervous, you had been since the day Kenny booked your airline ticket to Winnipeg so you could finally meet his family. You had heard all the stories about them, and they sounded lovely, but you were still, naturally nervous. Constant thoughts had flown through your head since the day you packed, what if they didn’t like you? Didn’t approve of you? you took another sip of your drink hoping the soothing flavour would relax you.

An hour later the pilot informed the plane full of weary passengers that the flight would be making its late arrival at the airport shortly, you began to gather your things up and pack them back into your designer backpack Kenny had bought you as a gift but couldn’t help thinking you’d made a mistake by bringing it, what if they thought you were showing off? Too gaudy? “breathe” you told yourself “it’ll be fine, they’ll love you” you said trying to boost your self-confidence.

“sorry mam, but would you mind stowing your bag? Were going to land soon that’s all” asked the kind stewardess who had given you that extra miniature off the drinks trolly earlier, probably due to the anxiety she saw on your face after striking up a conversation about why you’d be visiting Winnipeg in November.

“sure, sorry” you smiled back.

 Finally, After the stress of the queue at passport control, your bag coming off the plane last and trying to find your way out of the baggage hall altogether you were here. You grabbed your phone out of your bag to see a text from Kenny already, “waiting in the arrivals hall, ring me when your out” it read. You dialled his number and he picked up immediately, so quick he must have been waiting for you thought. “finally, you here yet?” he laughed.

“yeah, just got through, been a nightmare” you replied, “where you at?” you asked him.

“just at the coffee shop with my dad, well wait here for you. You’ll see it if you walk to the end”.

“okay babes see you in a sec” you replied before hanging up, instantly feeling nervous. His dad. You were going to meet his dad for the first time in an airport after hours of travel. Fantastic.

You saw Kenny straight away, those two-tone curls where recognisable anywhere. He looked relaxed and rested whilst he sat chatting to his dad unbeknown to you about how nervous he was for you to see his home and family. “what if she thinks I’m a huge loser once she’s seen I’m just a weird kid from Canada?” he asked his dad. His anxiety spiking in anticipation.

“she won’t, she sounds a great girl and clearly likes you so stop worrying.” His dad replied smiling at his son.

So deep in conversation they hadn’t seen you approach, “hey ken” you said, smiling from ear to ear at finally being reunited.

“babe, you look amazing, I missed you so much” said Kenny, words spilling out with a huge smile in his face as he looked you up and down, clearly appreciating the effort you had made. “this is my dad, (y/n)” he said stepping to the side to introduce the older gentleman who looked very much like his son.

“hi, I’m (y/n), I’m so happy to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much about you Kenny always talks about you” you replied any nerves melting away at how normal and nice he seemed, internally laughing at why you were so nervous in the first place.

“nice to meet you too, we’ve heard everything about you I’m so glad you managed to make it out. Big freeze on the way” he said. “let’s get home, before it’s too dark and your mother kills us for being late.” He laughed.

Kenny grabbed your bags and you both followed to the car as soon as you left the terminal you regretted your choice of coat. The leather jacket though warm was not enough to keep your heat against the cold Canadian weather “I told you to get a good coat (y/n)” said Kenny shaking his head at you.

“okay, I just thought you where exaggerating” you replied shivering.

“your so cute, its not far to walk” he said.

After realising Kenny’s definition of short walk was not the same as yours you reached the car and were incredibly grateful when his dad opened it for you so you could jump straight in. “thankyou” you told him while he cranked the heat up for you.

“no problem, its not a far drive either so well have you home and warm in a little while” he told you smiling at your lack of appreciation for the Canada winters.

 After a 40-minute drive you were at Kenny’s childhood home, it was just what you had imagined after hearing all of the stories from him about living in the suburbs as a kid. It was your classic suburban home with a lawn out front and a porch to sit on. It was actually really cute, you where excited to see inside. Kenny’s dad got out and left you two to make your way in, all of a sudden you where back to the nervous girl on the plane with the millions of questions about whether you where enough flooding your brain. All of a sudden Kenny planted his lips on yours and you snapped out of whatever you where thinking of immediately “they’re gonna love you, because I love you” he said. It was like he could read your mind and you kissed him back, you’d missed him so much in the time you’d been apart and if it wasn’t for being in his dads car outside his parents house you’d have climbed over and had him right there in the car. The moment was perfect for it … but the location was severely lacking. “we better get in the house before my mom sends my dad back out to get us” he smirked pulling away, clearly thinking the same thoughts you had been a few minutes prior.

“okay” you smiled back “lets go”.

 Once inside the house you felt relaxed all of a sudden, it felt like a home and all the stress you had had about the visit faded away. You took your coat and shoes off and followed Kenny into the kitchen where a beautiful blonde lady stood at the counter. “Tyson, and this must be (y/n). your so pretty” she said patting her son on the shoulder in an approving manor.

“thanks mom, I’m glas you two finally get to spend some time together. It’ll be nice to have the family all under one roof again.” He replied, with his mum giving you the once over.

“I’m so glad you’ve finally brought us a girl home, I thought you’d never setlle down to be honest” she said teasing her only son.

“mom” he said laughing back “I’m gonna take our stuff up, my room yeah?” he asked

“mhmm, and (y/n) across the hall” she said trying to gauge her sons reaction.

“your joking, I’m a grown man mom” said Kenny laughing trying to cover for the fact he’d been wanting to get you into bed since he’d seen you in the airport in those skin tight pants he loved so much.

“Its fine” you interjected not wanting to upset Kenny’s mum and to stop a fight over a room before you’d even settled in. “its fine, I totally respect that. We respect that don’t we ken” you said looking at him with pleading eyes to drop it.

“fine, its fine” he said turning to walk upstairs leaving His mum feeling guilty, though she would never admit it. Honestly she had no problem with the two of you sharing a room but who wants to hear the inevitable through thin walls on the first weekend of meeting your sons possible future wife.

“thankyou” she mouthed quietly to you smiling at how gracious and kind you had been at trying to avoid an awkward situation on your first meeting. You smiled back and followed Kenny upstairs to your room for the next few days. It was a gorgeous guest room, you dropped your bags off and crossed the hall to see Kenny in his childhood room. It was painted blue and like you expected there where wrestling and hockey pictures and posters all over the walls. “cute,” you said smiling at him

“its changed a little but not much” he said smiling back “my mom painted but put all my pictures back up” he laughed.

“that’s sweet, she probably wanted it to be the same for when you got back” you said.

“not that I ever got the chance much” Kenny sadly replied.

“she understood why though” you mentioned reassuringly with your arm on his back.

“you know, I never thought id get a hot girl in my room” he said laughing

“you still wont” you said getting up to go downstairs “come on lets go hang out” you laughed Kenny following reluctantly.

 you spent the rest of the evening chilling out in the kitchen, drinking wine with his mum while him and his dad watched sports on tv. “I’m glad I got to meet you” his mum said to you smiling

“me too, I’m so glad to finally meet everyone and happy for Kenny to spend some family time at home, he’s always on the road I’ve told him he needs to make more of an effort” his mum appreciating your words.

“yeah but he’s busy doing what he loves, I would never tear him away from that” she said laughing at him and his dad.

A few hours later it was time to head to bed, his mum and dad had called it a night a few hours earlier but you and Kenny had stayed up to chill and watch a little tv together. “I’m heading up babe” you said pecking him on the cheek

“okay babe me too then” he said getting up to turn everything off  before following you upstairs

You waited for him at the top of the stairs, pulling him into a hug “guess ill see you in the morning” you teased

“unless you wanna sneak over in a little bit” he teased

“Kenny … no, I don’t want to disrespect your mom” you said back shrugging.

“okay okay, can I at least get a hand job in the bathroom” he laughed  

“goodnight Kenny” you said turning to walk away.

After completing your evening routine you settled down for the night, it was hard to drift off knowing your man was just over the hall, who you had been dying to touch since before the last time you had said goodbye all those weeks ago. Eventually your eyes began to feel heavy and just as you where settling in for the night your phone began to buzz, straight away you knew who it was. – im lonely- it read, you rolled your eyes, it was gonna be along night.

[biletdoux]

waiting: physical therapy | d.sc

Rating: G (in this part)

Genre + Tropes: non-idol!au, romance (angst, slice of life)

Warnings: mentions of a car accident

Length: 1.2k+

Summary: Sicheng is a creature of habit.

Note: it’s a little late, but i’m back!! i swear i’m working on my other works as well, i’ve just been a little caught up with school and work ;; this one is for @odentist​ and @adamfoolcry​ bc ilysm!! i know i’ve been absent, but you guys are in my thoughts always. thank you for putting up with me!!! it means a lot and i’ll work on being better at keeping in contact<3 also, i know not many people read my works, but i’m always super grateful toward the people who do <333

Masterlist // [Previous | Next]

part iv: physical therapy

Sicheng has physical therapy every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday morning from 09:00 to 11:00. He arrives at each session exactly 15 minutes early every time and although the receptionist who registers him varies depending on the day, Minho is always there to greet him with a bright smile. Sicheng would then set his stuff aside in a designated locker for the day and he’d start off the morning with some light stretches before the actual session started. This has been his routine for the past few months now.

Today is no different. 

“Sicheng,” Minho grins with a tap of his electronic watch. “Eight forty-five on the dot as usual.”

Sicheng shoots a small smile with an acknowledging nod of the head in reply as he rolls his wrists and starts loosening his ankles. His joints ache and creak in ways that bother him more than it should and his stiff muscles hiss in protest. Sicheng understands he should be grateful that he could at least walk and stretch on his own, but he can’t help but become bitter when he remembers his old lithe self. Minho is oblivious to Sicheng’s inner machinations as he mirrors him and does his own set of stretches. 

Sicheng is a dancer. Was. Is. Sicheng will be a dancer again. One day. Yes, one day. Definitely. Hopefully.

While at heart, Sicheng will always be a dancer, his body is broken and won’t move in ways that it once did. Minho helps build him back up two hours at a time, three days a week, but Sicheng knows his body will never go back to the way it used to be prior to the accident. 

Sicheng remembers waking up with a hazy mind and heavy limbs. The bleak whiteness of his room and bed sheets blinded him as he struggled to register his surroundings. The plastic nasal cannula delivered heated high flow oxygen through his body and the wires attached to his body alerted the nearby nurses of his rousing. They came in and took a set of vitals before talking to him sweetly, as to not alarm him too much, but his head ached and Sicheng still can’t recall much of what happened the first few days he came to. 

The doctors said a lot of things, but Sicheng extracted that he was lucky. 

Among other things, the impact left him with two broken ribs and a punctured lung. They told him he was transported to a nearby hospital just in time before his left lung completely collapsed, but his spleen had ruptured, requiring emergency surgery to prevent further internal bleeding. There was moderate trauma to his head, resulting in cerebral contusions and swelling, but they determined his central nervous system came out unscathed. Sicheng’s mind and recollection was still foggy and tattered, but they assured him that it would return. Perhaps in pieces, but one by one it should come back.

Sicheng was bedridden for over a month and required an additional month of intensive in-patient hospital rehabilitation from his injuries and deconditioning before he was even cleared for discharge and out-patient rehabilitation. The doctors were surprised by his progress and had a positive outlook on his prospect, but Sicheng knows. 

Things will never be the same.

Sicheng enrolled in the best out-patient rehabilitation his insurance provided for him and that was how he met Minho, a ray of sunshine and the epitome of positivity. Minho’s relentless encouragement lapped at Sicheng’s bitterness and eventually wore him down. Now Sicheng finds himself looking forward to their sessions together, despite having to face he’s no longer who he was.

“Are you ready?” Minho asks. “We’re going to work on strengthening today.” 

During his first session with Minho, Sicheng still wobbled on his feet. The hospital sent him home with a walker and pair of crutches, but Sicheng found it insulting when pirouettes and grand jetés used to come as second nature. Minho introduced himself with a fervor that had Sicheng wincing. He didn’t want to be here, especially when it meant entrusting his recovery with some happy-go-lucky sap. 

Sicheng gave Minho the cold shoulder the entire session and completely ignored any suggestions or advice. This went on for a few more times until Sicheng almost collapsed one day from pushing himself too hard despite Minho’s warnings. His legs were cramping and his lungs felt like they were going to burst. Sicheng nearly toppled over had it not been for Minho there ready to steady him at a moment's notice. Minho said nothing as Sicheng heaved in long and heavy breaths as his skin glistened with a light sheen of sweat. 

Minho was quiet and didn’t say much. Sicheng appreciated him for not rubbing too much salt in his wounds.

During the last twenty minutes of that session where Minho was helping Sicheng with stretches, he broke their strained silence.

“Sicheng, you have to be kind to yourself and allow yourself time and patience. I know it’s tough, but things will come back. The mind may forget, but the body always remembers.”

Sicheng didn’t say anything back, but he couldn’t find it in himself to scoff back like he would at any other tacky saying and ever since then, he grew to have a quiet respect and even tentative friendship with his physical therapist. 

Sicheng looks forward to Friday sessions the most. Usually they do strengthening most of the time and today is no different. It’s harder on his body than other sessions, but he enjoys the steady ache of his muscles afterward. He views it as a sign of progress and Sicheng takes in greedy gulps. 

Sicheng finishes today’s sessions on autopilot, barely noticing the minutes that flew by until it was time to stretch. Minho helps push and hold positions when Sicheng can’t and he’s grateful.

“Hey what’s up with you today?”

“Hm?” Sicheng is flat on his back and Minho is supporting his right knee to Sicheng’s chest. “What are you talking about?”

“Dunno,” Minho hums thoughtfully as he switches to stretch Sicheng’s left leg. “You just seem tired.”

“Oh. I’ve been having trouble sleeping I guess.”

“Will talking about it help?”

Sicheng ponders his offer for a minute before a soft grunt escapes his lips. His left leg is always stiffer than his right and Minho is pushing it today. “No, I don’t think so, but I’ll be fine. Thanks.”

“Okay, I’ll take your word for it. Try to get good rest though, it’s crucial for recovery.”

Minho understands Sicheng enough to know exactly when and where to push, physically and personally. A comfortable quiet settles between them until the session is over. 

Sicheng cools down in the locker room before heading out and waving goodbye to Minho and the receptionist of the day. 

By 11:20, the sun is out and the streets are busy. Sicheng has to block out rays of light from his eyes as he looks up to see the buildings to decide what the next move for the day will be. Maybe some lunch? 

He ponders quietly to himself before noticing a tap on his shoulder and turns to see a girl.

“Sicheng, is that you?”

Note: oooof, this one isn’t as whimsical and fluffy as the other cause it has lots of exposition, but finally mores stuff is revealed about sicheng!! 

[starlit-dreaming]

[wip tidbit 3] in the back of my mind

Fandom: WMMAP Rating: T (updated rating) Note: the Twin Sibling AU that i tried so hard not to write, but i DID, so naturally i have to call myself out for writing it. will be cross-posted on ao3 and wattpad under the same title

Arc 1: Beginning of the End 0 | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8

Arc 2: Of Princes and Villainesses 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20

Side Story: maybe, i’m afraid (verena/athanasios) 1 | 2

SO. wip tidbits. trying to bring these back again so that way people can still learn more about the au

with the holiday season coming around (wow guys its basically been a year by now since i started using this tumblr for wmmap at least) ive been super busy with work and havent had a lot of time to write

HOWEVER

i recently looked at my doc for itbomm and there’s at least 86 pages worth of unposted wip tidbits precisely because its for future events and im trying to piece everything together like a jigsaw puzzle

side note: there’s a total of 204 pages, in which 118 is solely the chapters that have already been posted on wattpad and ao3

so for those who are unfamiliar with my writing process -- i write a bunch of scenes mainly on a whim that i refer to as “tidbits”. one day i could write consecutive scenes and bam i’ll have a new chapter out asap. another day i could write a bunch of different scenes and end up with only one that gets thrown into the current wip chapter while some scenes get scrapped

basically, its the rough draft, things might get heavily edited or be kept the same in the fic, or be used for later down the storyline. i dont care much for spoilers, but i know that there are people who do care

this post is for the people who want the breadcrumbs of spoilers whether big or small!

——————————

(It starts like this:

A figure, standing high on a ledge, staring up to the skies.

There is a firm resolve, one that cannot be persuaded.

Breathing out — a wish, perhaps — and an action.

“Maybe next time,” he says, and…

He takes the plunge.

——————————

“You can’t just pick when and who to fall in love with, Athanase.”

——————————

Everything before and after is a blur, but he remembers everything in between.

The room is quiet, almost uncomfortably so. She breathes, abrupt and almost angry at first, only to exhale softly with a tune of fatigue. He shifts in his seat on an elegantly designed sofa that was old and worn from age. Something is different — unsettling, almost, but he can’t tell what it is.

“So you’re going through with this, after all,” his guest states, her voice barely shaking — he didn’t expect any less of her composure. Even in the face of something like that, she still retains her calmness, and a familiar sense of fondness washes over him. “Do you truly love him, so much that you would run away?”

“I am, I do,” he states, and there’s an apology waiting to slip out, but he bites his tongue.

——————————

They both agree that it wasn’t a good idea to talk about the matter more than what they’ve already established. He wasn’t too thrilled, either, to hear about how he died. Perhaps it was more of just morbid curiosity in wanting to know the details of his death.

After all, if he and the original Athanasios died in the same way, one that didn’t require poison of any kind, then maybe there was some more to the mystery behind Athanasios’ death that not even Autumn would know. She may have written Toska from his sister’s perspective, but that doesn’t mean Athanasia would actually know the full truth, especially if Claude decided not to divulge details in the original story.

——————————

“Maybe next time,” she bitterly laughed, “I could be happy with just this.”

——————————

“You said that you saw glimpses of your past life long before you found me in the forest, right?”

“What about it?” Autumn frowned.

“Do you remember any of it?”

“Too much of it. Why do you ask?” Even though she asked, he could tell that she had her own guess. And he could tell that she was most likely correct in her conclusion.

“I remember bits and pieces, but nothing major.”

“That’s a good thing, isn’t it? You’re making progress.”

“I’m not sure,” he grimaced. “The issue is that it’s too slow for the sake of progress.”

There’s a moment of tense silence, his shoulders stiff as he looks at his reflection in his tea, and he hears the tiny clink of a teacup placed into its little plate.

He could feel her stare.

“…I don’t think you should try to force the issue, if you can’t remember much.”

——————————

“You don’t know how to braid hair?” she frowns, looking at him. “That’s such a shame, you have really pretty long hair…”

She was definitely staring at his hair with an unspoken question.

“If you want, you’re free to braid it,” he dryly states. “Besides, I’m only growing it out this long because it looks nice.”

“No take backs,” his best friend grins, shifting closer and brushing her fingers through his long black hair. “Also, I recently just read this manhua called Grandmaster of the Demonic Sect, and it’s about this dude who transmigrated back to the world 13 years after he died, and the protagonist’s name is Wei Wuqian, aka, Wei Yin, and he—”

“Wait, did you write fanfiction for the short story assignment?”

“Huh?”

“You literally named the main character Yi Wei, and his husband as Zhan Lan. Isn’t this that one fandom that blew up on Twitter? We literally used the short essays for our workshop session and I literally read your story. You turned in a fanfic for a class assignment.”

She avoids eye contact with him, “Not that I’m saying I did — which you can’t prove anything — there’s nothing wrong with submitting a fanfic for a class.”

It’s the first time he outright laughs around her.

——————————

“It’s fine, I guess,” she seemed very put off, clearly torn between wanting to ramble spoilers while simultaneously wanting to keep her story a surprise. “It’s not a major spoiler, at least…”

“Well?”

“No, Verena was never in love with Ijekiel.”

Well, fuck. That actually felt like a spoiler. A very major spoiler.

He wasn’t sure how to feel about that. In fact, it was really unexpected — Verena was obsessed with Ijekiel, even after the engagement between Verena and the Prince was broken off.

“What?”

——————————

So here he is now — sitting in a drawing room of the Emerald Palace, with his sister and Lucas quietly bickering to the point that he was tuning them out as nothing more than white noise.

‘They act like a stereotypical old married couple,’ Athanase absentmindedly thought.

Upon that thought, the magician boy whirled their head around and glared at him. He blinked, staring back at the red-eyed magician.

‘Did he hear my thoughts?’

——————————

“You’ve got a lot of nerve to attack me, I’ll give you that,” Athan coldly stated, staring down at the perpetrators. “Perhaps I’m more of my father’s child after all,” he mused, jewel blue eyes sharp and glinting ominously. “Because my father would have you executed for even making an attempt. Granted, if you had aimed your killing intent towards me, you’d have been torn asunder already.”

——————————

“He thought you were the princess!” Verena laughed.

“We’re twins,” Athanase flatly stated. “It’s not that strange.”

“She’s taller than you.”

“Because she hit puberty first, thanks to biology.”

“Even though your hair isn’t as wavy as hers.”

“I braid my hair when I sleep to make it wavy — you know this!”

——————————

“Should I die, too?”

She looks at him, surprised.

“If you’re scared, then we could die together.”

“…are you serious?”

“When it comes to you? Always.”

——————————

“In my second life, when I was Michelle, I thought I had an overactive imagination, y’know?”

She stared at him for a long while, “I thought you hated that name.”

“I did.”

He really did — he hated the person he used to be, he liked growing out his hair and wearing pretty clothes, but he hated being mistaken for a girl. There were a lot of things that he hated about being Michelle, but now that he was living another life, it was different. Maybe it was because he was born as the boy he had always hoped he could be, or maybe it was just because he never really hated the name, but rather the fact that it was his.

It was kind of funny, really. Now that he was Athanase, he cherishes his past life as Michelle, when he absolutely hated his life when he was still Michelle.

——————————

“You sound like you’re in love.”

He doesn’t say it, but they both know what he’s implying.

You sound like you’re in love with me.

“Maybe I am,” she looks away.

Maybe I am in love with you.

——————————

“You’re the daughter of Madame Pompidou, right?” Athy cheerfully asks, holding Athanase’s hand. ‘I don’t know how this girl did it, but I’m not gonna let her sink her claws in my baby brother!’

Upon hearing his sister’s voice, he was taken aback.

That was his sister’s thoughts.

He could hear his sister’s thoughts again.

——————————

“As you already know,” she weakly says, “Athanasios died. In my rewrite, I tried to figure out a way to keep him alive, I wanted to give the twins a happy ending.”

That was surprising — she never told him that.

“No matter what I tried to write, I couldn’t imagine him being alive at the end of Toska. Somehow, or some way, he was going to end up dying. It was the main reason why I stopped posting updates in the first place. I wanted to finish it, though, at least for you, when I found out that you read my story. I wanted to finish rewriting Toska for you, but then you…”

But then he died.

She had no reason to finish her story, if the one she rewrote it for wouldn’t even be there to read it.

“And it was… it was the same. For Athanasios. He…” she refused to look up from her teacup, but he could already see where she was going with this.

“Athanasios died in your rewrite.”

Just like he did.

——————————

It ends like this:

His heart slams wildly in his chest as his eyes snap open.)

[sanchoyo]

danny phantom, season 3, episodes 1-2 thoughts! I had to split up my season 3 watch awkwardly because the second part of it was too picture heavy and tumblr only wants you to have 10 pictures per post, per the No Fun Allowed Rule. :/ I was planning on just doing 1-6 then 7-13, but, it'll probably be split into 3 posts now... (along with a follow up thoughts post after I finish and think on it for a lil while...)

see prev episode thoughts in this tag <3

-vlad got a new mansion. and the guys in white IMMEDIATELY BREAKS IN AND STARTS SMASHING THE SHIT OUT OF EVERYTHING, DESTROYING HIS NEW MANSION KAJDFHSSKADJKJN. NEVER LAUGHED SO HARD IN MY LIFE. 'the greatest practical joke ever' TUCKER YOU ARE SOOO RIGHT.

-'DAnnY FenTon MadE mE ThE LaugHINg StOCk oF WisCONsIn' if you dont shut up. you made yourself a laughing stock. love the cute pink hotel room. also, Vlad's Naked on The News. VLAD BUYING THE NASTY BURGER TO TEAR IT DOWN. the way they keep escalating these..pranks? IS TEARING DOWN A BUISSNESS A PRANK?? (the metric by which I decide if its a prank is if its funny to me or not. vlads house being torn down? funny prank. local burger place being torn down? maybe not. MAYBE the naked on the news prank was pushing it because he WAS in a hotel just, minding his own business, but like, he stays bothering danny for no reason when danny is just minding his own business, too! its not right but there IS a sense of vindication here. yknow?

-...'at least now he's channeling his sociopathic lonely bachelor energy into something positive!' this is unironically an insult to actual sociopathic people. 'but he doesnt care about other people!' 'and thats why he'll make a great politician!' BRUTAL. but not untrue? I mean, this is not at ALL surprising. hes a billionaire via cheating and lying, and already a huge Slimeball. So yeah, politician is 100% right.

-but did vlad move to amity park? I might be wrong about this, or illinois laws might be different, but I kinda assumed if you're running for election for mayor in a town, that you had to live within the voting jurisdiction and be registered to vote there. I mean, he's temporarily in a hotel and technically displaced rn (...I thought for sure he'd have more vacation homes...) so I guess there's probably a grace period to find a permanent home in amity park?

-ME, CHEERING DANNY ON EVERY SINGLE TIME HE BEATS VLAD UP, BEING SO PROUD OF MY SON:

-'hes overshadowing the voters!' why...are you surprised, danny???? election fraud is Nothing. did you forget he stole BILLIONS OF DOLLARS.

-ok the school uniforms are kinda cute tho lol.

-NO TEENAGERS ALLOWED IN THE NEW RESTURAUNT?? WHAT KIND OF BUISSNESS IS THAT,, SO PETTY. tucker straight up tearing off the security camera. king of property destruction

-vlad trying to make life hell. For a 14 year old. who is trying to genuinely apologize and offer a truce (despite all the creepy and fucked up things vlad has done to him and his family). what the fuck can I even say about this. I think i've said several times while watching 'what the fuck is wrong with you', i need a stronger statement.

-Teens Against McMasters! Fries Not Lies! I want to see vlad get mauled by teens. I want them to start Throwing Rocks.

-vlad saying 'dudes' is the worst thing I've ever heard.

-danny overshadowing the clone was GENIUS AND MAKING HIMSELF LOOK INJURED. SO PROUD OF YOUUUU. USE HIS OWN TACTICS AGAINST HIM. GET HIS ASS.

-frostbite's design is really interesting. ghost...bones... incased in ice?? anyway im so glad danny is getting more hugs :)

-oh, they basically worship(?) or put danny on a pedestal because he defeated pariah?? well IM happy for him having more ghosts that are friendly to him :) also, sam and tucker's lil snow jackets...super cute.

-more ghost lore!!! THE BERMUDA TRIANGLE IS A GHOST PORTAL. OF COURSE.

-VLAD ACTUALLY DID GET A CAT AWWW KITTY I WUV U KITTY. who he plays chess with...okay, you know what, thats so valid. and actually, pets are usually actually good for mental health, you have a lil guy to care for and they can give u a reason to try ur best so u can provide for them, and they are always good for comfort...good job, vlad!! next go to therapy. 'if anyone asks, you're my sister's cat!' so does he actually HAVE a sister? can she come beat him up

-sam is Right. they shouldve immediately taken the map back to frostbite! but I get it, exploring Can Be Fun

-'carnivorous canyon' in the ghost zone is just mystery flesh pit

-vlad is going to burn a 14 year old girl at the stake. you know, I half expected clockwork to come up and stop this, because they're fucking with time, BUT. nope. this is nbd, I guess.

-well, blood blossoms are terrifying. I know 'ive never eaten a vegetable in my life!' was tucker being hyperbolic, but this kid is going to get so many digestive problems if he doesnt Start Eating Healthier.

-...vlad wanted to go to rome and be a god?? I want to know where he self-inserted himself in their already established pantheon. what did he say he was the god of??

-VLAD SET THE ENTIRETY OF ROME ON FIRE. SO THEY PROBABLY ASSUME GOD OF DESTRUCTION. GOD OF ASSHOLERY.

-how embarrassing, to swordfight a 14 year old and struggle to win. lmfao they keep running vlad off every place he tries to take over

-'if i can destroy the first airplane, man will never fly and I will rule the air!' VLAD. DO YOU THINK. DO YOU THINK THE WRIGHT BROTHERS WERE THE ONLY PEOPLE TO THINK OF AND CONCEPTULIZE FLIGHT???! oh my god he is so dumb. people have always been trying to fly even before that, and even if you destroyed (1) plane its not like no one else could make one??? as if people hadn't already been making hot air balloons since the 1700s??? or coming up with concepts, and studying on how to make them work? starting to think vlad shouldve paid attention in college and not been so fixated on maddie. or, I dunno, read a book in his huge library...(I mean, I dunno what he majored in or studied in college, but it obviously wasnt history...)

-vlad getting his ass kicked by snow dogs and getting shidded on by a pigeon :)

-'hes got more in common with us than he realizes!' DANNY IS A YETI??? CONFIRMED (no,, but I hope that means we'll see more of the far frozen! I like them :)

-what in the world was this episode tho. like..okay?? vlads plans did not make ANY sense to me, like, was I missing something , or. WHY is he so fixated on Ruling all of the sudden...sure he might be power-hungry, feeling powerless can do that and I'm sure the accident/being abandoned made him feel that way, but its always felt like his real end goal was just to steal jack's family out of jealousy and spite, not to like. um,, rule rome I guess. ?? theres No Maddie In Rome, Vlad.

[libermachinae]

Fault Lines Under the Living Room

Part IV: Touch - Chapter 11: Ripple

Also on AO3 Summary: They’ve only just arrived at their destination when things start to go wrong. Word Count: 2193

---

“Picking up some light readings,” Drift reported. “Limited tech, similar to Vitrious. You getting anything?”

“Just a massive, concentrated energy spike a few degrees northeast,” Rodimus said. “Recent exposure, Cybertronian markers.”

“When’s the last time you took that rig in for a tune-up?”

Ratchet hated having to repeat himself, but either Drift was incapable of recognizing the severity of his ship’s disrepair (unlikely) or he was being even more obstinate than normal. Exchanging their vessels’ specs had revealed the truly horrific condition the ship was in: fuel efficiency half of what it should have been, unreliable pressure seals, thrusters that should not have made it into the air, let alone off a planet. That he had survived transit was a—not a miracle, an insult to probability and reasonable calculation of—

Rodimus put a hand on his shoulder and tried to think calm thoughts. Drift had survived. It didn’t make sense, and maybe the luck would run out now that it had been acknowledged, but—

Ratchet halfheartedly swatted at his hand, more like a firm pat.

No wonder you liked him so much. Morale officer doesn’t suit you. He failed to dislodge Rodimus’ hand and didn’t bother trying again.

“Haven’t had the time.” The sound of flipping switches was followed by a hard smack from Drift’s end, rounded out by imprecise grumbling. Drift’s report had lacked any details on the state of his ship’s user interface, but the variety of language he had spoken to it with, impressive even by Ratchet’s standards, gave the sense that it was functioning at about the same level as everything else: barely.

“Still think it’s an outpost?” Rodimus asked.

“Lot of things it could be,” Drift said, voice accompanied by a few more mechanical noises. “We’d need more info to say for sure. Or a visual.”

Rodimus considered the readouts in front of him. There were more he hadn’t read out, but only because he didn’t know how. Ratchet translated what he could, but they were trying to keep his focus on piloting which meant Rodimus couldn’t spend too long wondering about the more mystifying aspects of his screen. Was that box in the top corner a map, or a graph? He didn’t know, and he had to look away before it overtook their other priorities.

“There are also stockpiles, energon plants, and decoys out there,” Drift went on. “Traps, if you’re really unlucky. Whole lot of empty shacks; lot of boltholes won’t have anyone living in them most of the time.”

“On the move a lot?” Rodimus asked.

“Sure. Only one in a dozen stellar systems will have a planet good for energon harvesting, and then there’s having to be vigilant about competition and enforcers. Sometimes needs will change or new opportunities will open up, and a crew will split up to deal with it.” He sounded annoyed at that, briefly breaking from his researcher-describing-mysterious-outgroup tone.

“Couple Decepticons on holiday accidentally give you the slip?” Rodimus asked, just to keep him there.

“More like an entire platoon,” Drift said, rising to it so quickly that they could only assume he’d been waiting for someone to complain about this to. “I tracked them to their covert thermal operation on a smelter of a planet, got all the way in, only to discover the one mech they’d left behind was their communications specialist—it was a mess. But, that’s the past now.” And just as quickly, the wall was back up. “If our intel’s good and Grit’s got a byte of sense, there should be someone here. Just no idea how many.”

“Sounds like there’s a good chance we’ll get this thing cleaned up quick,” Ratchet said. “So long as we stick together.”

Drift’s Hm’d agreement was more than either had expected. Maybe they were making progress.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Good to go,” Rodimus said, adjusting the items on his screen to focus on the ship’s status. “Defense and surveillance up, and we’re at about descent altitude. Just give us a head’s up when you start improvising, so we can get out of your way.”

He was not supposed to say that. He shot over a grin in response to Ratchet’s disapproval; what point was there in denying the inevitable?

Practicing being a good friend, remember? That means saying no to stupid ideas.

It also means being there to catch him instead of holding him back.

It was the kind of argument that couldn’t be solved with a few pointed thoughts or memories, the kind that they did not have time for now, as the visual feed showed Drift’s ship starting its descent. They set it aside in their own ways: Ratchet simply stopped thinking about it, while Rodimus let himself run through the myriad arguments he would have made simultaneously before reconnecting himself to the present. A moment later and they were ready, Ratchet punching in the commands to follow Drift down.

The planet’s cloudless atmosphere gave them a clear view of the terrain below, its massive, dramatic rock formations contoured by deep shadows. North of them, the average surface elevation increased and smoothed out into tall hills, but where they were going the difference between peaks and valleys created a network of shelves and tunnels that would be perfect to hide a secret base in. And stealth did seem to be one goal of whoever had set up shop down there: besides the sloppy energy output, there were no obvious signs of cyberforming on the planet’s surface. Rodimus was about to suggest that only those who came looking for Cybertronians would ever notice they were here, when a glint in one of the visual feeds caught his attention. He brought the feed to his station and zoomed in. Metal?

The word hit his vocoder as Ratchet shoved them into a dive.

“Turret!”

The energy beam was hot enough to ripple the air around it. Even though Ratchet got them turned away fast enough, the whole shuttle shuddered from the near-miss. Crates and containers rattled in their restraints, and Rodimus was too busy keeping up with Ratchet to think about the sounds of crashing down in the hold. They should have been at a safe distance to avoid detection; how had they been pinpointed so quickly?

“Pull up! Get out of here!” Drift shouted.

No time to wonder about it right now.

“Can’t,” Rodimus said while Ratchet wrestled with the controls. “I’ve got visual; they’re charging up for the next shot. Reversing momentum would have us hovering like an auto-skeet.” If the console would stop bombarding him with warnings, he might have been able to make better estimates about their next move, but a ship this size wasn’t designed to be flown by just two bots with half a processor each. Ratchet was demanding so much of their attention that even reading the words on the screen demanded resources they didn’t have, so he scrubbed the whole thing until all that was left was the visual feed, the twinkle that shone just before the storm. “Diving. Keep on our tail.”

“No, that’s—fine. Aim for cover.”

Ratchet switched off the reverse thrusters and the ship plummeted out of its gentle descent. The entire world rocked nauseatingly as the discordant visual feeds broadcast the tilting horizon and rising ground, and they startled as the second blast singed the air behind them, the crackle of Drift’s failing comms suite not enough to prevent their sparks from clenching down in panic. The rear cameras recovered from the overexposure, and there was the speeder, intact and keeping pace.

“What now?” Drift demanded.

“Evasive maneuvers,” Rodimus said, following the ticker tape of Ratchet’s intentions. “Triple Thunderclash!”

Ratchet twisted hard on the controls and sent the ship spiraling. Rodimus would have been flung across the bridge had they not been secured, but even then struggled to maintain focus as they were thrashed around, over and over. He couldn’t see Drift anymore, or the distant turret: everything was swirls of color, broken up for only a split second as the third blast went wide and passed them by.

Ratchet drew back and pulled them out of the spiral, then hastily steered them aside as the recovered visual feeds revealed an oncoming peak. Landing thrusters were engaged; slightly dazed, Rodimus picked out a promising valley for Ratchet to maneuver them into. Drift reappeared in the rear feed, keeping his distance in case they had to dart again. Not that there would be much room for it, as the canyon walls rose up and enveloped them.

Ratchet brought the shuttle to rest on a wide shelf and sat back, optics dim. The constant, pounding beat of his focus dispersed, and he sunk into pillowy relief, buoyed by Rodimus’ burst of Wow we made its and What kind of gun was thats and I’m alive Ratchet’s alive Drift’s alives. It had been hard, keeping that iron grip on himself while Ratchet put in the work of keeping them alive, but—

“Wouldn’t have seen that shot coming without you,” Ratchet said. Rodimus looked away as he flushed, warm with appreciation and embarrassment; sincerity was an intimacy he was never quite prepared for. He was grateful when Drift’s speeder landed alongside them.

“Everybody intact in there?” Ratchet asked. He thought Rodimus’ embarrassment was amusing, frag him, but was willing to set it aside out of concern for their friend. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t find a way to exploit it later, but for now, Rodimus was safe.

“We made it,” Drift said. “That was more more like a Double Thunderclash.”

“Ratchet was between Thunderclashes and I had to make a best guess.” Rodimus tried to mime the path of the two ships with his hands, twisting his arms as far as his joints would allow. “It’s a Triple Thunderclash because it’s three times cooler than a thing Clash did in some fight,” he explained, since he felt Ratchet wondering.

“Battle of Ambustus Major?” Ratchet asked. Rodimus shrugged and tried not to pout when Ratchet immediately brought up an old vid file of the maneuver.

“Is the ship stable here?” Drift asked, reminding them they were here with a purpose. In the aftermath of such a close call, it was natural to want to ease back for a moment, but Rodimus couldn’t fault Drift for wanting to stay on track. The stakes weren’t any lower just because they’d made it to the surface intact.

“Should be,” Ratchet said, leaning over so he didn’t have to keep relying on Rodimus to funnel through the ship’s readings. “Holding steady for now. We’d probably need to conduct a physical survey to be sure, but I’m not seeing anything troubling from here.” Ratchet wasn’t sure of the composition of this planet, but the lack of dust in the atmosphere suggested it was made of a lot of hard, compact stone, hopefully strong enough to support a spacefaring vessel. They just had to hope that whatever geologic event had formed this shelf hadn’t terribly weakened the wall it was anchored to.

“Good,” Drift said. “The good news from all this is that the turret gives us an idea of where they have their main base; it’d be a waste of fuel to have to drive back and forth a long way. Once I’ve scouted it out and located Grit, you can come in.”

“Okay, and one more time with a plan we’ll actually follow?” Ratchet’s edge emboldened Rodimus. If it had been just him out here, he might have let Drift make all the decisions out of guilt, but the strong presence beside his mind pulsed with gentle encouragement.

Drift sighed.

“Right. Give me a minute.”

Ratchet gave Rodimus a thumbs up. Progress.

Rodimus got up from the captain’s seat and walked to the bow of the bridge, where the narrow viewshield gave him a closer peek onto the planet. The impression he got: rocks. Though the surface was painted mainly by dull shades of brown, down here they started taking on more color, hints of red and green only noticeable against the stark homogeny of everything else.

Why had the Decepticons chosen this planet? Were there fuel reservoirs buried too far below the surface to show up on orbital scanners? How would they have known to come looking for them? If not, if this was just a backwater hideaway, why the powerful defense system? Who was hiding here? And for how long? He itched to pop the hatch open and start exploring, but Ratchet’s presence kept him in place. This world, with its unknown Cybertronian population, confronted them with a new variety of complexity and danger. Though they could be rash in their decision to help Drift, they couldn’t risk being stupid about it.

Ratchet gently nudged him away from that kind of thinking. No one here was stupid. Everyone was trying to do the right thing for the people of Vitrious, the universe at large, and each other.

Rodimus cast a small, grateful smile over his shoulder.

“Okay.” The comms came back to life with Drift’s voice. “I still think this is a bad idea. But I’ve got something.”

[snowydaffodils]

Exhilarating

1741 words | 3rd Person POV

Another short fluff - this time with Seventeen's Josh!

Synopsis: Everything was dull and boring, but when she entered the room, she was like a breath of fresh air.

---

Despite the well designed interior and the fancy vases that decorated the room, it didn't push away the feeling of unfamiliarity and solitude that Joshua had felt since he arrived - or at the very least became aware of his surroundings. He didn't feel the isolation as much when he first came, because his vision (and memory) was blurry. He remembered people talking around him, and he remembered being taken from one place to another, but he didn't remember what they were saying exactly, or where they brought him to. When he came to, they told him he collapsed on pre-recording, and they had to immediately bring him to the hospital.

Joshua sighed. While the room was probably one of the most luxurious ones he'd been in, there was an odd unsettling feeling that disturbed him as he lay there, alone. It didn't help that he was wearing hospital clothes instead of his own and also that he was stuck to an IV drip. Just in between the door and floor, he saw shadows that stood tensely beyond his room, and he could guess them as the assigned security for him - just in case one of those sasaengs reached him somehow.

With the window shutters being closed down, it further elongated his feeling of being boxed in, as Vernon would've phrased it. His members were off to another schedule that he later would have to make up for, so nobody would be on the group chat. He would've called his mom to push away the loneliness, but it would have been barely dawn in Los Angeles.

The ceiling, once a comfortable target to place his sights on, slowly grew dull and boring, so he moved to lay sideways instead, facing the door. It was then when he heard noises and steps coming towards his direction, and the shadows under the door moved around for the first time.

His eyes perked up to see who was coming, hoping it would be his manager, or one of the members who finished their schedules early and came to see him. Instead of them, a white coat caught his eyes, the person in it fiddling with the notes she was holding as she entered the room.

"Mr. Hong, right?" she smiled, pulling up her glasses as she approached him. "Hong Jisoo."

The way she called him was cheerful and perky, and it brought a different light to enter the room. It suddenly didn't seem so sullen, and for that, Joshua was happy she entered, whoever she may be.

"Yes?" he managed, as he pulled himself up to sit straight and look at her properly.

"Good morning," she cheered, and he noticed that she was looking directly into his eyes. While he was used to direct eye-contact in America, Koreans tend to deem that action impolite, so he didn't really expected it. Even so, he had always thought of eye contact as an important element in communicating - it shows just how much attention you were getting from the other person. Her eyes seemed bright as he returned the contact, and the mere fact that they were looking into each other's eyes played a huge part in lightening up the room.

"Morning," Joshua replied, trying to smile back as politely as he could, despite the heaviness of his head while keeping his body upright.

"Oh, you shouldn't move too much!" she said upon seeing him. "You were running a high fever, on top of that you were dehydrated and overworked, too. Your temperature went down slightly, but you're still in a feverish range," she said quickly, adjusting the small tube that was connected to his arm.

"I feel better, though," Joshua reasoned, giving the girl a small smile to support his subjective argument. She puffed and blew the little bangs annoying her eyes away and placed her hands on her hips.

"Better doesn't equal good enough," she said, the look in her eyes clearly opposing his attempts to be let go. "Besides, take this opportunity to actually rest, okay? Its a big fancy room with fancy lighting, a TV and good speakers, and we'll get you food in a moment. You can't argue that this is not heaven," she rambled, pointing at his surroundings.

Joshua laughed, he had never met a doctor like this one. "You have a point," he said. "But, do you think you can move me to another room? Preferably with people?"

She blinked. "You want to switch rooms?"

Joshua looked around, there was a nurse standing right behind this doctor girl, and his security guard had stepped inside since the girl entered. They all looked at him weird and obviously against the idea, so he just nodded timidly and sighed.

"Its just that," the girl waited for his response patiently, her hands back on her the edge of his bed and the other on her notes. Joshua continued, unsure of himself as well. "It gets too quiet, and uh, silence gets pretty uncomfortable for me."

She gave him one look and spared a few seconds for her thoughts before she returned him with a reply. "Well, your manager told me its best you're not even seen by anyone at all, for your safety."

Of course he did. Joshua didn't doubt that, and he understood those orders completely, so he just nodded, accepting defeat. Worth a try though.

But she wasn't quite finished. She pulled her phone out of her coat pocket, checked her screen for a while before coming back to him. "I can stay with you and chat if it helps," she grinned. "People call me a chatterbox, so why not put it to good use, right?"

"Are you not busy?" Joshua asked, pretty set aback by her suggestion, but was not against it.

She shook her head, swaying her bangs left and right before giving him a reassuring smile. "Not if nobody's calling for me. You're actually free to go after this drip," she points at the hanging liquid with the notes on her hand, "All you have to do is wait for your manager to pick you up. After all, your fever did go down, and we'll give you acetaminophens to take. What you really need is food and rest."

While the rest of the people in the room looked at her weirdly at her offer to be a chatterbox, she paid no mind to it and grabbed herself a chair to sit on by Joshua's bed. Joshua, on the other hand, just nodded numbly, unsure of what kind of reaction he should give, or what words to say. He had no reason to refuse, though, so he said nothing.

"You guys can go," she dismissed the nurses who followed immediately, and the security guard simply eyed her for a few seconds before returning to his post. She was the assigned doctor, after all, he couldn't (and shouldn't) restrict her from her patient.

Once they all left, Joshua blurted the question that had been sitting on the tip of his tongue. "So, do you stay to chat with all the patients you meet?"

She settled in her seat and gave him an ambiguous smile - one Joshua understood to not be completely genuine, but wasn't fake either. "Just the ones that seem particularly lonely."

"And," Joshua paused, picking his words carefully. "You don't have other lonely patients?"

She chuckled. Pressing her fist on her cheeks, she rephrased his question for him, "You mean why aren't I busy treating other patients?" The question stunned him for a while. He didn't expect her to be that direct, especially to her patient; but to be honest, he didn't mind it one bit.

Usually, when this kind of situation happened - where a conversation turned too straightforward for him to handle, Joshua would've chuckled awkwardly and politely, and just nodded or something to move on from the discomfort. But this time, he didn't know if it was because his head was still revolving, or if it was because he'd spent too much time with Jeonghan, but he didn't take the polite route and just directly returned her question with another one. He simply nodded. "Yeah, sure, if you care to tell?"

The response wasn't one she was used to receiving, so she was a bit flustered at the blunt exchange for a few seconds. "Huh," she huffed, but smiled. "I guess I'm assigned to do the extra stuff. Nobody wants to talk to patients and their guardians if its nothing medical related. Doctors are awkward that way. They prefer to research, write papers, and explore surgeries. And so they pushed me here," she gestured to the room around her. "To the VIP wards."

Before Joshua could take offense into her words, she disclaimed, "Not that you're 'extra stuff', but you must understand that some VIP patients can be," she gave him an awry grin, one that was indicating something negative, as she searched for the right word. She didn't seem to find one, but eventually settled with the description: "Exhilarating," which she worded with a shoulder shrug, indicating that it wasn't the correct word at all.

Joshua just laughed at her antics, wondering if the medical dramas about VIP patients actually happen in real life that she would describe them that way. "Would you say I'm - well - exhilarating, then?"

At this point, her smile was no longer ambiguous. Looking like she was in deep thought, she answered, "You're a different kind of exhilarating." Her dimples further accentuated the honesty in her smile. "I mean, obviously, you're well aware that you have got the looks," she reasoned, not at all embarrassed to compliment him, which was different for a change - but a good different.

"That I do," Joshua grinned. He was an idol, after all, he should be confident in his visuals.

"And you're young - not many VIPs are as young," she continued, still thinking of more answers. "And most people would've reprimanded me for speaking so casually and bluntly to a patient about her work. They'd say I was rude."

Joshua snickered. "Should I, then? Reprimand you, I mean?"

Her eyes rounded at his statement, and then she suddenly clasped her hands together and bowed her head. "I would reaaally, reaaaally appreciate it if you don't."

He laughed. This girl is really something.

"What was your name, again? Can I call you by name?" Joshua asked, visibly more comfortable.

And she returned him with another ambiguous smile.

---

[samwritesforyou]

We’re gonna be okay

Diego x reader

Summary: You and Diego worked out a system for a situation if he ever comes to your place while being in the highest form of distress and needs your help. He assured you it won’t happen often. Until one night, it finally did.

A/N: i feel like i’ve read the whole tumblr dot com worth of diego x reader fanfics and yet i still wanted more, so the desperate need to finally write something myself has been fulfilled. i would actually love to take requests, so if you want, dont hesitate to message/ask me! im ready to write fics and headcanons :) (my blog might seem new but ive been on tumblr for years and years and i finally dedicated a new blog to mostly reader inserts, either my own or reblogging others)

Warnings: Mentions of a panic attack, gender neutral reader

Wordcount: 3,350

There was a knock on the door.

It was pretty late, but not too late for it to be Diego yet.

Or so you thought.

You got up kinda lazily from a comfortable chair you had situated in the corner of a room, at first designed mainly for reading or napping, but ending up doing absolutely whatever you could on the spot. Eating pizza, watching netflix, browsing through the internet after long working hours that you put in into your tiny art selling business.

You slightly opened the door and already plastered a semi-fake smile for a possible neighbor, but in front of you stood Diego.

Your dear friend, who was at the moment soaked from the rain outside, with big eyes, fast breathing and bloody hands.

Bloody hands?!

“Hello to you too, friend!” you said quite worried, quickly patting him down for signs of any physical pain. For the first time in a while he seemed fine, unscarred.

Your eyes finally went up, literally scanning his face but it was completely unreadable.

His eyes were wide and he looked as if he couldn’t comprehend what was going on around him.

You looked down again and took his fists into your hands. His own palms unclenched and you could see that they were heavily bloodied.

“Diego.. whose blood is it?”

No answer.

You rushed him inside and closed the door behind the two of you, facing the damn vigilante again.

“Diego, I need to know who’s blood is on your hands,” your voice grew steadier as you knitted your brows together in worry and confusion.

Only then the guy decided to move his arms and you noticed how shaky he is. He connected his two index fingers in the form of a cross, pressing it to his chest.

Your own eyes went wide now as you stumbled back a few steps and your mind went blank.

.

.

.

You instantly remembered a night that happened a few years back. He has come in crumbling through your window and was obviously in some new form of distress, that you couldn’t quite understand yet.

“Diego?” it seemed like your voice didn’t reach his ears, so you tried calling out his name again, getting up from the couch and patting him lightly on the body, to determine any sign of an injury.

It looked like there was none, so you tried to reach his gaze that was somewhat absentminded, all over the place, scanning everything but not meeting your eyes.

He was a tough guy, and you knew it. You knew that if you want to get answers, you need to either get them yourself or make yourself heard, until he cannot ignore you any longer.

“Diego Hargreeves, what is going on?” your voice was soft yet determined.

His dark orbs finally stopped on your face and he just shook his head, his breathing oddly fast for a man who was just simply standing.

You continued to push. You didn’t have the best day either, and to be interrupted at 1am by his visit was nothing new, but you couldn’t let him have this behaviour. Even though you’re friends, that didn’t automatically mean that he could do whatever he wanted.

Throughout the whole night he didn’t say a thing, but when you started adding volume to your voice, he.. he just broke down.

That night, you’ve witnessed Diego experience a panic attack. Caused by yourself.

You couldn’t fall asleep that night, even after you eventually calmed him down and the only thing that was left to do for you was to watch him sleep and slowly rubbing circles on his exposed arm out of the blanket.

It felt like neons before you noticed a first ray of sunshine drawing from the half-closed curtains, making you spring to your feet and drag your ass to the kitchen, trying to think of what to do for breakfast.

When you figured the recipe out and finished cooking, Diego was already up and joined you near the kitchen counter, next to which you had two stools.

He settled on one of them, looking at you.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” you couldn’t muster anything better, so you just put a plate in front of him and then sat next to his side, simply digging into your portion of scrambled eggs.

“About last night, y/n..” he drifted off, probably at first deciding that it’s better to fill his stomach a little bit.

In the meantime you didn’t dare to speak up and just waited for him to say something, anything.

When he finished his meal, he finally turned to you with a sigh.

“You know that one guy I told you ‘bout? That we.. we do some vigilante shit together from time to time?”

You just nodded, not meeting his eyes.

“Well. I guess I could count him as a close friend. You know.. and,” this was followed by a slight pause and clearing of the throat.

“He died yesterday. I couldn’t save him.”

Your eyes immediately shot up to Diego and all that vulnerability and hurt that you’ve clearly seen yesterday just overtaking him were completely gone. Now present only a strong facade that he mastered whenever he needed to hide from showing emotions. You hated it.

“Shit, Diego..” you spoke quietly and softly, all the words seemed to have left you in all the things unsaid in your throat. But you tried to continue.

“I’m sorry. And I’m also sorry for pushing you over the edge. I.. I didn’t know what happened so I just acted how we would normally do,” he smirked at that, merely for a second, but you still caught it.

“Look, I.. I know, “ he simply said and then it felt as if he was weighting pros and cons of telling you something else that was clearly on his chest.

“You always help me out. Every single night I come to you.. Why do you do it, y/n?” Diego’s eyes were steadily turned your way.

At the sudden question you raised an eyebrow, “well, I.. I care about you.”

He lightly bit his lower lip and turned his gaze away, clearly thinking about something really hard.

“Okay,” he finally said, “y/n, do you think I could ask you for a favour then?”

At that your eyes met and you felt nervous, for some reason.

You really liked him. Not just like a friend. But you understood that there probably won’t be a chance for you two to ever become a couple (mostly considering that you didn’t believe that he could feel about you this way), so you settled for friendship anyways, since you two really got along well.

And having this handsome tough guy as a friend? Damn, just that is already some kind of luck swinging your way.

But your feelings of course meant that.. you’d do more for him than what you’d do just for a friend. You would get out of your comfort zone just to help him with injuries or hear him talk about his girlfriend (at the time, now they were broken up) and how they argued so much that he ended up on the streets and didn’t really want to go to his lonely place at the gym.

And you took him in. You always did. And since the day you became friends you always care for him.

And you’d care now once again.

“What is it?” in your tone danced a question, troubled with what he might ask for.

“Well, yesterday-“ he cut himself from finishing and cleared his throat, starting over.

“I imagine we’re gonna be friends for a long time, right?”

You just pushed your brows up with a small nod in affirmation.

“I never had.. anyone, really, to help me with the states I often got into,” you immediately thought of Eudora, wasn’t his ex-girlfriend supposed to be his support pillar? Or is he just making you feel sorry for him-

“Or I didn’t ever trust anyone that much, you know,” oh, okay, that kind of explains that then.

“And I guess.. I trust you enough? To share this?” he talked quietly and mumbled a lot so you realised soon you won’t be able to hear him at all.

You grabbed his hands with yours and caught his attention this way.

You were never really touchy together, but occasional hugs and even holding hands was kind of a standard for you from time to time.

His eyes met yours again and you cursed yourself for your heartbeat getting faster. This is not an appropriate moment to get butterflies in your stomach, dammit.

“I’m listening, Diego,” you confirmed, nodding again.

“Okay. It’s- it’s just really h-hard to talk about this,” he stuttered a bit, but with the next breath continued again, “When there’s some situation that’s just completely fucked up, like losing someone close to me, or- or somethin’ else, I don’t know.. I finish what I need at the scene where it happened but when I come home I just,” he breathed some air in and you felt his hands squeeze yours a bit tighter, “I just break down, you know? Sometimes it’s just all too much for me and I don’t know how to deal with it and I would just wanna.. someone to hold me, I guess? Otherwise when someone’s trying to talk at me or somethin’ I just get even more worked up and it’s even worse.”

It all started to come together in your mind. Even though it sounded really strange to hear Diego talk about things like.. wanting to be held and shit. But you always guessed there’s a far bigger sweetheart and a soft boy underneath all those harness and knives.

You tried to pick your words carefully.

“So when I started to ask you shit.. You just flipped. Basically because I was talking at you a lot and you couldn’t take it anymore, right?”

He sighed and looked somewhere up, nodding bit by bit.

“Yeah, yep. That was it.”

You clapped at his hands lightly, to bring his focus back again and he looked at you and mustered a sad, faint smile.

You did the same. In the world you lived in, unforeseen and unfortunate events were happening left and right and thinking about his childhood and everything.. no wonders he developed such a huge reaction and coping mechanism to something catastrophic happening.

“That’s okay, Diego. I’m here for you, I mean it. Let’s just talk about some things what I should and shouldn’t do when you come here in that state, alright? I just want you to feel comfortable.”

“Alright. Thank you, y/n,” he was looking down now, the whole morning kinda failing to meet your gaze and just rubbed his thumb across your hand, which send you heart into a race again.

You slowly let go of him, making an excuse to go wash the dishes.

After a while you looked behind you where he sat and said, “We also need some sort of a sign that you can easily show me, since you’re not really talkative when you get like this.”

Apparently he already used said “sign” somewhere, because he had it on the ready.

It was his hands clutching in fists, index fingers crossing each other in a form of a cross, pressed to his chest.

“Something like this. But don’t worry, I don’t think it’ll happen often. That would be really sad,” he laughed a little and then looked at you somewhat longingly and you averted your eyes back to the sink, nodding.

.

.

You almost forgot about that and now it all come flooding back.

Something terrible must’ve happened. You were panicking, but you had to stay strong, for him.

He was still standing in your hallway, with a crossed index fingers pressed to his chest.

“Okay, okay..” you mumbled more to yourself than to him, taking his hands into yours and looking him up and down.

He really seemed.. disconnected. It was kind of scary and you tried so hard not to think about what happened. Or about who died.

“Here, come with me, Diego,” you led him by the hand towards your couch as he was holding onto you, but his usual grip was gone.

You both ended up on a sofa and you really didn’t know how to act around him now, because.. he didn’t talk, didn’t look at you but when he did, his eyes were wide and big and he just seemed suddenly like a small boy to you.

Hopefully he won’t remember this tomorrow, you thought and tried to smile a little bit at him.

“Okay. Can you get your hands up for me, baby boy?” You’ve decided to approach this situation as if you were just babysitting an overgrown child.

Because nothing bad happens to children normally, right? And if you kept thinking about him as usual grown man Diego, you’d lose your mind in the process, wanting to scream and shake him by the shoulders until he spills you what happened.

Being Diego’s friend pushed you to new limits each day, truly.

He didn’t bat an eyelid at your tone change and word choosing, just obliging and putting his hands up.

You helped him to get his knives down and put his black turtleneck over his head, so now he sat shirtless right next to you, hands still smeared with blood.

Goddamit the blood!

You took him by the elbows and lead Diego to the bathroom, where you helped to get the red out of his hands. At the sight of blood dripping down into the sink you deciphered a whimper from him, even through the sound of running water and looked up.

Diego couldn’t stop looking down at his hands and tears were running down his cheeks.

You quickly took his face into your wet hands from the water and forced him to look away and lock his gaze with yours.

“Hey, don’t look at it, okay? It’ll only make you stressed. Until I’m done you can just close you eyes, okay?”

“Oh-okay,” he said and just closed his eyes here and there.

You sighed and tried to finish washing his hands as fast as possible, cursing under your breath pretty often.

“I’m sorry..” you heard him mumble and when you looked up, his eyes were still shut.

“Nothin’ to be sorry about.. We’ll talk about this tomorrow, right? Don’t worry. You’re safe now,” you smiled as you were already wrapping his hands in a towel and his eyelashes fluttered, eyes opening.

You stayed looking at each other for a second longer than necessary, but then you already lead him away to the bedroom area, where you actually tucked him in, wrapping in a soft blanket and then rushed to the kitchen, grabbing a few cookies and then leaving it on a plate next to him on the night table. 

 You almost made yourself comfortable on the couch, when he suddenly called out your name from the bed.

You sprung to your feet, thinking he’s actually hurt but you didn’t notice or that- “Can you... stay with me? P-please?” he asked, disrupting your train of thought. You did expect this, but still felt really shy about that.

Diego is vulnerable right now and does need your help and presence though.

And there wouldn’t be anything you wouldn’t do for him.

“Sure,” and after this simple answer you carefully climbed in next to him covering you both with a blanket and he curled up closer to you, almost immediately falling asleep.

From one point of view it felt like you wouldn’t sleep at all tonight, but from the other one.. you actually fell asleep just as fast as he did.

.

.

To nobody’s surprise you woke up first and actually flinched at the sight of sleeping Diego inches from your own face.

Your mind went running with ideas what happened and what’s going on until you realised the real deal and your brain caught up to yesterday’s shenanigans.

It was a wild ride and you were thankful that now it’s - most probably - over.

Your eyes were subconsciously scanning his face, until you realised what you’re doing, but you didn’t stop even then.

You’ve never been this close to his face yet and now you could admire and explore every part of it.

Having feelings for a friend that’s laying in the same bed with you at the moment is really not the healthiest thing that could’ve happened to you, huh..

You actually froze and your heart started racing billion times faster when you realised that you have a weight of his arm around your waist, pulling you closer from his sleep.

He grunted and his nose was now in your hair, shuffling a little to get more comfortable.

You had no idea how to change positions, especially when being held by such a strong arm as his and you got a feeling like Diego might actually wake up just about now, so the best solution that came into your mind was to forcefully close your eyes shut and pretend that you’re still sleeping.

He did, indeed, wake up. You were suddenly pushed to the other side of the bed, arm disappearing from your waist and a waterfall of curses fell from his lips quietly.

You used up all your acting stamina to make a believable scene of you gaining your conscious from the deep slumber that you were obviously in, stretched your arms for a good effect and finally opened your eyes.

You immediately signed up for a staring contest as soon as you looked at him and smiled a little. His face remained unreadable but perhaps a little bit flustered?.. But you may be reading too much into it.

“Hi,” you said with a higher tone than intended and Diego just nodded at that.

You tried your luck by addressing the elephant in the room right away, you never liked ignoring the problems that were always looming over you, “care to tell me what happened yesterday?”

He drew a big sigh and rested his head back on the pillow, looking up at the ceiling.

You couldn’t stop looking at him. At first because you really wanted to know the mystery, but the longer you looked at him, the more you realised that you’re just admiring the beauty that he holds, until his words fell like a dead weight right onto your shoulders.

“I found Eudora’s body yesterday. I couldn’t get to the place in time and someone killed her.”

What?

It felt like what he said was simply a trick of your imagination. You liked Eudora yourself, she was a very intelligent and an interesting person, you two often hung out and that feeling didn’t cease even after you found out that she and Diego started dating.

And even when they broke up some months after, you still found your way to spend time with her. So did Diego.

You wanted to cry, but thought that it might be insensitive towards him, because he was much closer to her than you were, so you tried to swallow your forming tears down.

“I’m.. I’m so sorry, Diego..”

“It’s your loss too, I know it, y/n,” he looked at you with much softer look this time.

“Come here,” he said a little bit hesitantly and opened up one arm towards you.

This was unusual, but maybe last night’s events tore down some walls?.. Who knows.

You almost threw yourself into his embrace and once your forehead rested on his chest, you started crying.

From everything, honestly. There’s been problems at work, your seemingly unrequited feelings for Diego didn’t help much either and now you learned that you lost one of your friends.

He started rubbing circles on your back, just letting you get those emotions out, while you two were hugging each other on the bed in your apartment.

And as you slowly started to calm down, he said a gentle, “it’s gonna be okay. We’re gonna be okay”

[got-to-love-a-badboy]

DADDYS GIRL

pairing - Dacre Montgomery x Reader

————-

You woke up to your father calling you, "Y/N!! Get your butt up, I need to leave in 15 minutes!", groaning you rolled yourself out of the bed and stumbled over to the suitcase that held your things in, as you hadn't got around to hanging them up when you arrived lastnight.

You worked in LA at an interior design firm, life in LA was everything you dreamed it would be, but you did miss your father, it was always just you and him since your mom passed away when you was 11, 14 years later you still needed your father more than you would ever let him know.

He didn't like the idea of you moving from New York to LA on your own, but two years after you moved away, your father got a job in Atlanta, he had been cast as chief Jim Hopper on the tv show Stranger Things.

You couldn't be any more proud of your father, he hadn't done much acting since you left and you felt kind of guilty, but when he told you the news of the role you couldn't believe it, This is what he needed. The two of you FaceTimed everyday and he always told you the gossip on set, but FaceTime wasn't enough, so this week you took the week off of work and spent the week at your fathers apartment with him.

Today he was taking you on set with him, you was excited to see what the new set would be like and to see the cast from last season, especially Nat and Joe, the three of you became really close friends during season 1.

You had persuaded your father to let you bring your designs to set with you so you could carry on working on them while he was busy.

You eventually came downstairs wearing a little pleated skirt, knee boots and a jumper. "Finally! What have you been... oh I see what's taken you so long, you look beautiful honey, but we need to leave, it's set not the met gala", you laughed at your father trying to be funny. Your father was on a call most of the car ride so you took the opportunity to text Nat.

Hey! Guess who's on her way to set.... meeee!

No way! Today has totally moved up to being the best day ever! I can not wait for you to arrive! Iv just told Everyone and they are super excited! Gosh I missed you Y/N!

You laughed at her acting like it was you who was the celebrity and not her!. The car ride wasn't long at all, when you arrived on set the first thing you saw was Nat stood in the parking lot, with her full Nancy Wheeler costume going on!,

"Y/N!", she shouted as she ran towards the car, "Nat!", the two of you hugged for what felt like forever, "god I missed you girl! ...David she needs to move back here permanent!", she said to your father as she held onto your face, you laughed before looking at your father, who put his hand on Nat's shoulder before winking at you, "working on it kiddo".

You loved your father so much, but he never understood why you had to go and pursue your own career so far away from him, you loved your job, design and architecture had always been fascinating to you.

You, Nat and your father made your way through the set, everyone was greeting you and telling you they were glad to see you etc, as you made your way closer to the live set you had to keep quiet as they were shooting a scene. You could see from the distance that it was Joe who was filming, quietly you stood and watched the scene, his character was playing basket ball with a group of guys, but one in particular was all up in Joes face, 'he must be Steve's enemy" you thought.

As you kept watching the guy turned around and when you saw his face, his bright blue eyes and his insanely toned chest you could feel the butterflies in your stomach come alive, "that's Dacre, he's new, I can introduce you?" Nat said nudging you're side, you just covered your face and shook your head, she was always trying to hook you up with someone new, you were, as Nat put it, "too pretty to be alone".

After a few moments your father took you over near the cast trailers and food trailer, "I need to go see Matt, il be back soon grab a coffee and do your designs or what ever, I won't be long sweetie", with that he walked off.

You didn't need telling twice, so you sat down at the table and pulled out your laptop and design pad, put your earphones in and began touching up some of your designs, you must have been at it for at least 30 minutes when you felt a tap on your shoulder.

You take your earphones out and turn around to see Dacre, the guy who was shooting with Joe, you jumped a little in shock, "I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to scare you!" He said politely, causing you to let out a nervous laugh, "oh no it's ok, I was totally in my own world", you pointed to the work you had been doing.

Looking at him you could feel the butterflies were back, you noticed he was looking behind you, you turned to see it was your laptop he was looking at, you turned back to him, he saw you looking and instantly stopped, "oh I'm so sorry I didn't mean to be nosey, it's just .... that is amazing .... I'm a real design freak", he began laughing, feeling embarrassed.

You couldn't believe it, you didn't often meet people your age that obsessed over design like you did, "what really! Finally someone to talk to!... come here let me show you something, tell me what you think", Dacre instantly sat next to you looking at the laptop.

Natalia and Joe walked into the food trailer talking to each-other, but when they saw the two of you talking they backed out.

As they were walking back to set they saw your father, "hey guys you seen Y/N around?", Nat looked at Joe, yet they both remained silent, "what?! Just tell me what's she doing?", he asked, Nat spoke up realising Joe wasn't going to!, "ok David don't freak ok, she's hanging out with Dacre in the food trailer, they are just looking at Y/N's work", he pinched the bridge of his nose with his finger tips, "it's a good job I like Dacre, this girl is going to kill me". The three of them laughed as your father walked off towards the trailer.

"This is amazing Y/N!, how you use the textures to make the colours pop is just mind blowing, it's so strange, this is the first time iv spoken to you but I feel like iv known you for years", Dacre said, still looking at the designs as he spoke, but turned to face you when he finished, "god your eyes are beautiful", you told him making him laugh, his hand finding yours on the table, his fingers began softly tracing over yours, "well if were doing complements where do I even begin with you, you're prefect", you smiled at him and began to blush, the two of you were interrupted by a voice in the background, "she gets it from her old man!", Dacres eyes shot behind him as he removed his hand from yours, you just shook your head at your father taking on the big bad dad role, "relax Dacre, I like you, plus it wouldn't stop Y/N even if I didn't, she never listens, hence why she's living in LA, right honey?".

You rolled your eyes at your father, "yeah, independent woman and all that dad", you looked back at Dacre smiling, "he forgets I'm 25 now, ...so, how about you take me out tonight Dacre? Who knows there may be more than one reason for me to stay in Atlanta a little while longer",  Dacre flashed you his signature smile, "you took the words out of my mouth beautiful", the pair of you were staring at each other, eyes full of lust and attraction, "3 years, I tried to convince her to stay! 3 years!, I give in, enjoy your night guys!".

The pair of you laughed as your father walked out, Dacres hand instantly finding yours again.

———————————-

I hope you enjoy it guys I had the idea about Y/N being David's daughter but  then I got so stuck on the meeting and chatting with Dacre part!

Please vote and comment!

Love my readers 🥰

[abrakophile]

I was looking through a bunch of junk and found some letters from my dad when he was in the army. I’m afraid I'll accidently toss them, so maybe I’ll put them here?

OPs Name JUNE 02 03

I LOVE YOU

THIS IS MY NAME IN KURDISH

*my dad wrote his first and last name, and under it, in Kurdish*

ILL TRY AND FIND OUT HOW TO WRITE YOUR NAME AND MOMS TOO.

ITS STILL HOT. I WORK AND READ BOOKS TO PASS THE TIME AWAY.

HOW ARE YOU DOING? GOOD I HOPE. WHAT DO YOU DO FOR FUN? DO YOU EVER HANG OUT WITH YOUR FRIENDS? TELL THEM I SAID “WASSUP?” NAH, DONT TELL THEM. TELL ME WHAT YOUR THINKING. I’M TRYING TO SEND YOU SOME MORE OF MY DRAWINGS. WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO DRAW YOU? DID YOU LIKE THE DRAWING I SENT YOU OF YOU NAME? ITS ALRIGHT IF YOU DIDNY. JUST TELL ME WHAT YOU DO WANT ME TO DRAW YOU.

(Flip Page)

THIS IS WEIRD! (The page does not have lines on the left side of it) i WONDER WHAT HAPPENED TO THIS PIECE OF PAPER. HaHa

I MISS YOU ALOT. PLEASE SOND ME SOME MORE OF YOUR DRAWINGS, YOU CAN DRAW ME ANYTHING YOU WANT TO.

ARE YOU BEING GOOD FOR YOUR MOM? ITS NICE IF YOU HELP HER OUT WHILE I’M AWAY.

HAVE YOU BEEN ANYPLACE NEW? HOW IS SCHOOL GOING FOR YOU? IS MOMMY GOING TO SCHOOL? I KNOW I WANT TO GO TO SCHOOL WHEN I GET BACK. HOPEFULLY I GET THE CHANCE TO LEARN EVERYTHING THAT THERE IS TO KNOW. THAT WOULD BE GREAT.

ALSO, ID LIKE TO DO SOME FISHING? HOW ABOUT YOU? I GUESS ILL END HERE. BE GOOD AND STAY IN SCHOOL. AND JUST SAY NO TO DRUGS.

THEYRE BAD.

I LIVE YOU OP

*hearts and x’s* DADDY

---

(I don’t know if all these pages are in order or if it’s missing any, but this was the letter in the same stack as the last but this one was for my mom. In some places his indents indicate passage of time.)

I HAVENT HAD ANY TIME TO WRITE SINCE WEVE BEEN ON THE ROAD, NOT TO MENTION THAT WE CAN’T SEND MAIL WHEN WE’RE MOVING ALL THE TIME.

WEVE BEEN ON THE ROAD FOR ABOUT FIVE OR SIX DAYS, I HAVENT REALLY BEEN COUNTING. I KNOW I TOLD YOU THAT WE’D BE IN KUWAIT FOR A WHILE, BUT THAT WAS SO YOU WOULDNT BE WORRIED. I’M GOING TO KEEP THIS LETTER THOUGH, TILL I GET HOME.

ABOUT TWO NIGHTS AGO, WE DROVE THROUGH BAGDHAD, SOMEBODY SAID THAT THERE WERE PILED BODIES, I DONT KNOW IF IT WAS TRUE.

AND I GUESS YESTERDAY, A COUPLE OF PEOPLE SAID THEY SAW A MISSILE OR SOEMTHING SHOT AT US. I WAS TRYING TO FIX A TRUCK SO I DIDNT SEE IT.

ITS NOT AS DUSTY HERE IN IRAQ. IT REMINDS ME OF THE CONVOYS IN KOREA.

MOST OF THE PEOPLE WILL WAVE “HI”. SOME OTHERS DONT.

I SAW A KID OPEN HIS HAND ONCE WHILE MOVING, AND IT SAID “BUSH” THAT WAS KIND OF COOL.

OH YEAH. HERES A STORY. WHILE OUT DOING A MISSION, ONE OF OUR “BRADLEY” TANKS FIRED ON AN ENEMY AMMO TRUCK AND CLIPPED A KID. THE ROUNDS BLEW ONE OF HIS LEGS OFF AND SOME OF THE OTHER, FROM THE KNEE DOWN. SO THE MEDICS PICKED HIM UP AND BROUGHT HIM TO OUR RECONCOLIDATING POINT FOR MEDICAL TREATMENT. I GUESS HE EVENTUALLY DIED FROM LOSS OF BLOOD THE NEXT NIGHT AND YESTERDAY THEY TOOK HIM OUT AND BURIED HIM.

ALSO WE PICKED UP ABOUT 25-30 P.O.W.s AND SENT THEM SOUTH.

IT GETS PRETTY COLD AT NIGHT. AND THE DAY’S ARE VERY HOT.

SINCE WE LEFT KUWAIT ITS BEEN ME AND MENDOZA IN THE FIVE TON WRECKER AND I HAVE TO ADMIT THAT ITS BEEN EXCITING. WE KEPT GETTING SEPERATED FROM THE CONVOY AND BREAKING DOWN. BUT I THINK THAT WERE BETTER NOW. HOPEFULLY.

IM STILL WAITING TO BE AMBUSHED TO MAKE ALL THIS SEEM REAL TO ME. A PART OF ME WANTS IT AND ANOTHER DOESNT.

AND IT SEEMS LIKE ONLY OUR UNIT HAS TO STAY IN UNIFORM, EVERYONE ELSE WEARS T-SHIRTS AND BANDENA’S AND RAGS ON THEIR HEAD

WERE STILL GOING NORTH. NOBODY KNOWS HOW LONG WE’LL STAY. ITS NOT THAT BAD HERE. MEANING, IT COULD BE WORSE. 

I USED A “SHIT-CHAIR”. ITS JUST A METAL CHAIR WITH A HOLE CUT IN THE MIDDLE AND THE SEAT FROM A TOILET BOLTED TO IT, GROSS.

HELICOPTERS CAN BE HEARD ALL DAY AND NIGHT. I GOT TO SEE THEM DROP BOMBS ALL DAY ABOUT 3 DAYS AGO, FROM A DISTANCE OF COURSE.

ILL BE DRIVING AGAIN, IN A MINUTE. PROBABLY RE-FUEL AND BACK ON THE ROAD AGAIN. IM ENJOYING IT.

I HAVE 8 MAGAZINES FULL OF ROUNDS. NO GRENADES, BUT I LIKE IT LIKE THAT.

SOMETIMES IT SMELLS LIKE SHIT.

I GUESS ILL END IT HERE FOR NOW

I LOVE YOU AND MISS YOU TWO TWICE IF NOT THRICE AS MUCH AS YOU MIGHT MISS ME TOO.

HELLO AGAIN. WERE SOMEWHERE NEAR TIKRI + MOSUL. YESTERDAY, ME + MENDOZA WENT LOOKING FOR MOMENTO’S. WE BROKE A LOCK TO A NEAR BY BUNKER AND FOUND 6 A.K.47s! BUT ON OUR WAY BACK TO TURN THEM IN, MAJOR TATU GOT THEM FROM US. I WAS SO PISSED. BUT I GOT A GAS MASK w/ FILTER, A FULL MAGAZINE CLIP FROM ONE OF THE A.K.s AND A BERET WITH IRAQ 1 RANK ON IT.

I MADE A STENCIL FOR THE TRUCK WERE RIDING IN. ITS CALLED THE “GAMBLER.” YESTERDAY MENDOZA DROVE, SO TODAY ILL BE DRIVING.

IM NOT POSITIVE, BUT, I THINK WERE GOING TO TURKEY. NIETO SAYS THAT HE OVERHEARD SOMEBODY FROM S1 (or SI, I’m not sure) SAYING WE MIGHT GET PAID EXTRA FOR GOING THROUGH BAGHDAD.

I THINK NIETO’S MAD AT ME. CANT EXPLAIN WHY. MAYBE ITS BECAUSE IM RIDING WITH MENDOZA AND HE DOESNT LIKE MENDOZA TOO MUCH. OH WELL, WHATEVER REASON, HOPE THINGS GET NORMAL AGAIN. HAVE TO GO,

*hearts and xs*

TODAY IS THE 25th OF APRIL, I RECEIVED FIVE OR SIX (OR SEVEN) LETTERS YESTERDAY. THE LATEST WAS DATED 07 OF APRIL. THAT TELLS ME THAT ITS GOING TO TAKE A WHILE TO COMMUNICATE.

WE HAVENT RECEIVED MAIL BECAUSE WEVE BEEN MOVING NEVER STAYING IN ONE PLACE MORE THAN A DAY, OR TWO, UNTIL NOW. WE’VE BEEN IN THIS SPOT GOING ON FOUR DAYS TOMORROW?!

GIVE ME A MINUTE...

FOR THE LAST COUPLE OF DAYS IVE BEEN HELPING MENDOZA PULL THE ENGINE OUT OF A 5 TON TRUCK AND SWITCH IT w/ ANOTHER ONE. IT WOULD HAVE BEEN EASY BUT THE FLY WHEEL SEIZED UP INSIDE THE BELL HOUSING. ITS FINISHED NOW AND THE RUMOR IS WE’RE LEAVING  (OR MOVING) AGAIN TOMORROW.

ITS 10:33 THURSDAY MORNING. YOUR TIME IS 12:32 JUST TURNING THURSDAY.

I ALMOST CRYED WHEN I SAW ELIS PICTURE. I REALLY MISS BOTH OF YOU. LET ME BACK TO BEFORE I GOT DISTRACTED. I HAVENT BEEN ABLE TO SEND MAIL BECAUSE WE’VE BEEN MOVING. BUT I GUESS THAT WHATEVER THREAT THERE WAS (IF ANY), ISNT SO THREATFUL ANYMORE, WE CAN START RECEIVING AND SENDING MAIL. NO PHONE TO CALL FROM, AND NO INTERNET TO E-MAIL FROM.

THE WHOLE UNIT IS SCATTERED, SO EVEN IF I GET WHAT YOU NEED IT’LL TAKE FOREVER TO GET IT TO YOU. LET ME PULL THOSE LETTERS BACK OUT. OH WAIT. I DID LAUNDRY AND SOME UNDERWEAR THATS DRY, FELT HARD, OH WELL, WAIT A SECOND, K

I HAD TO FOLD SOME T-SHIRTS. ALL MY SOCKS ARE STILL DAMP. 

YOU CAN USE MY CONTRACT TO SHOW THAT I ENLISTED IN TEXAS AND HOWS THIS

*On a separate sheet my dad wrote a detailed note for my mom to give to someone to confirm that he did want to buy a house. He writes “I AM ALIVE AND WELL.” and “PLEASE ACCEPT THIS PAPER”, then he signed it with his scribble signature, and underneath it wrote his name in print and added “1st SQUADRON 10th CAVALRY HEADQUARTERS TROOP (I have no clue what this means)*

HOW’S THAT? HOPE I SPELLED EVERYTHING CORRECTLY. IM ALMOST READY WITH A DESIGN TO COVER THE OTHER TATTOOS ON MY LEFT FOREARM.

I JUST FINISHED LOOKING OVER ALL THOSE LETTERS YOU SENT FOR ME

IM BACK! I GOT SLEEPY SO I TRYED TO LAY DOWN FOR A LITTLE BIT. NO SLEEP. I DONT THINK. I DIDNT HAVE ENOUGH WATER TO WASH MY DCV’S AND A PAIR OF BDV’S. BESIDES FOR DRINKING WATER, BUT WE HAVE TO CONSERVE IT.

LET ME TELL YOU ABOUT THE RUMORS. TOMORROW WE’LL BE LEAVING FOR THE IRAN/IRAQ BORDER TO DO “PEACE KEEPING” FOR 3 TO 6 mths. OTHERS SAY THAT THE 4ID (i think is what this says) GENERAL WANTS TO KEEP US HERE TILL NOV., THATS WHEN 1 CAV WILL COME TO REPLACE US. WHILE OTHERS SAY WE MIGHT LEAVE BY JUNE. NOTHINGS FOR SURE.

SMALLER RUMORS FLOATING AROUND THE SITE ARE; RAMSEY AND SFC BACON ARE SLEEPING TOGETHER. SGT SIREK HAS PLANS TO TAKE NIETO AS HIS APPRENTICE AND PADIWAN LEARNER OF THE DARK SIDE. LITTLE BLACK ARNOLD IS MILITARY INTELLIGENCE FOR SPECIAL FORCES OPERATING UNDER COVER A SURVEILLENCE AS PART OF

*the rest of the page is blank*

IM BACK. TODAY IS THE 27th. I GOT BACK TO THE LITTLE CAMP AREA ABOUT AN HOUR AND A HALF AGO. I LEFT YESTERDAY MORNING TO, WELL, AS PART OF DE-CON (DE-CONTAMINATION) MISSION. HERES THE INFORMATION THAT I GATHERED.

A SITE HAD BEEN FOUND THAT WAS THOUGHT TO HAVE CHEMICAL WEAPONS AND 1-10 WAS APPOINTED TO GO TO THE SITE AND DE-CON THE CIVILIANS THAT WERE GOING TO OPEN THEM. AS IT TURNS OUT THE CIVILIANS HAVE BEEN DE-LAYED AND WOULD BE SET BACK 1 DAY.

THE NBC TEAM THAT I WAS WITH WERENT PREPARED TO STAY OVER NIGHT AND AS FORCASTED BY SSG MINOR WE MIGHT HAVE HAD TO STAY 3 TO 4 DAYS. EVERYBODY WAS PISSED.

LATELY ITS BEEN GETTING REALLY COLD AT NIGHT AND WE JUST HAPPENED TO BE NEAR A RUNNING RIVER. SO THE, ITS ABOUT 9 O’CLOCK AND IM BEAT, NO SLEEPING BAG OR ANYTHING TO COVER UP WITH AND I DECIDE TO TRY AND SLEEP. I GET AS COMFORTABLE AS POSSIBLE AND I GET ATTACKED BY MOSQUITOS. NOW IM PISSED SO I DECIDED TO JUST TO STAY UP ALL NIGHT. ABOUT 10PM ONE OF THE HEMTT (this might just say “hemi”, I don’t know) FUELERS SHOWS UP AND SGT TORRES SAYS HE HAS EVERYBODYS SLEEPING BAG! THE SITES ABOUT 45 MINS AWAY AND THEY LEFT SOMETIME MID AFTERNOON TO GET OUR SHIT, I HATE THESE PEOPLE.

RIGHT NOW ITS 9:01 PM AND ITS 11:02 AM YOUR TIME. I MISS YOU.

RIGHT NOW IM GOING TO ADDRESS AN ENVELOPE AND HAVE IT READY TO SEND TOMMOROW THE 28th. IM SORRY IF IT SEEMS THAT IM NOT WRITING VERY OFTEN. FOR A WHILE WE COULDN’T. AND NOW THAT IT SEEMS WE MIGHT BE HERE A LITTLE WHILE, THEYVE KEPT ME REALLY BUSY. LET ME ADDRESS THE ENVELOPES (he drew a star here)

ALL DONE. I THOUGHT ABOUT THE HOUSE A LOT TODAY AND YESTERDAY. IM SURE BY THE TIME THIS LETTER REACHES YOU, YOU’LL HAVE EITHER GOTTEN IT OR GAVE IT UP. IM O.K. WITH EITHER DECISION YOUVE MADE.

YOUVE KEPT THIS FAMILY TOGETHER, AND THAT MAKES ME PROUD. YOUR SMART, ATTRACTIVE AND FUNNY. AND YOU DONT TAKE ANY SHIT FROM ANYBODY. I LOVE YOU.

I HOPE THAT OUR DAUGHTER TURNS OUT TO BE LIKE YOU.

I GUESS ILL MAIL THIS TOMORROW, FIRST THING, SO

EVER YOURS

EVER MINE

*my dad signed it with his scribble, and wrote his name under it. under that are hearts and x’s with my mom’s name and then my name under hers.*

[veiledpeaches]

chance encounters | part i: what secrets we keep

Summary: Between pages of meddling friends and societal expectations, all she actually wants is to find a happily ever after with Doyoung, even if it feels like that is no longer possible. 

part i x part ii x part iii x part iv x part v x part vi

word count: 3k

thank you @seasonblues, you’re an inspiration to me.

She has just clocked into the office when she spots Doyoung at his desk, typing away furiously at his screen. This morning he has the blinds around his office up, such that anyone entering the office can see the faint glow of the computer screen reflected on Doyoung’s countenance. She guesses that he would be leaving the office earlier today, since he’s dressed a bit more casually, electing for his fringe to fall loosely onto the tip of his eyebrows instead of its usual comma hairstyle, his pressed white button-down free of its tie. His lips are moving, presumably mouthing the words presented on his screen while his eyebrows are slightly furrowed in thought.

As she gets to her desk, she lets her leather satchel, plump with files, fall onto her chair before walking towards the Managing Editor’s office.

“Haewon!” Doyoung’s face lights up as he meets her gaze, a childish and toothy grin forming on his face as he takes the cup of coffee from her. “I have excellent news for you.”

“Morning boss,” she laughs, “aren’t you leaving tomorrow? I thought you were on leave today.”

Doyoung hums dismissively, taking a sip of his coffee. “They like it, the Evergreen winner. They liked his work.”

The Evergreen Writers’ Competition was a local youth creative writing competition that was also a popular event that publishers looked into to discover aspiring and potential young writers. Haewon had been promoting the recent winner’s work to Doyoung relentlessly for the past few weeks. Even though Doyoung had been generally unconvinced of the commercial potential of the novel, he had submitted her proposal of it to Headquarters for their consideration under Haewon’s ceaseless endorsement.

“They’re publishing it?” Haewon presses her hands together with glee, “They liked it?”

“They liked it so much they want me to bring both the original and revised manuscript when I leave tomorrow. Oh, I’ll need the cover artwork too. They’re planning on translating and pushing it out to the American audience.” Doyoung smiles knowingly.

“I told you it was good!”

There is a hint of a smile at Doyoung’s lips, “I have to admit I couldn’t put it down the whole time, and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. But-” he pauses, “you need to admit the writing isn’t spectacular. The emotions are too raw, and his diction is unrefined-”

“These are things we can change with copyediting boss,” Haewon emphasizes, “with proofreading. We can make it better. But the world building is immaculate. It’s an incredible piece of work for a seventeen-year-old.”

Doyoung narrows his eyes, a smirk peeking from his lips. “Are you sure this has nothing to do with the way he looks?”

“Boss!” Haewon is scandalized, “he’s seventeen!”

“When I googled about him, I knew at once why Marketing said he would be good for press,” he laughs. “He looks more like he should be scoring on a game or scoring dates than scoring at a budding writers’ competition.”

While Doyoung has maintained a more professional relationship with her through the three years she has worked as his assistant, there are moments like these where Doyoung’s cheeky side slips through the cracks, reminding her of why she was so drawn to him from the very start. How effortless his humor is, how playful he actually is. The small crinkles that form at the corner of his eyes when his face breaks into a laugh. How wide his eyes get and how dramatic his gestures become when he’s talking about things he loves outside of work, like a drama he’d just started on, or the current political climate. The way he bends over her desk to explain to her about target readership in different export markets. And more than that. How much he loves reading, and his job, even on days he can’t agree with the directors. How he throws a disdainful expression at her when he overhears colleagues making sexist comments. How he tells her he’s trying to become a better listener, whether people need that or not. How convinced he is of his rightness and proud he is of his work, but not in the least satisfied with it. How attentive he is to every detail, whether it’s about Accounting’s expenditure records or about how her eyes remain a bit watery for the rest of the day after she receives a call from her mother.

Haewon rolls her eyes, but her smile is unwavering. “I’ll go prepare the documents you need now, boss.”

He nods and turns to his phone in his hand, and she’s about to turn and exit his office, when he speaks again, this time gentler, “oh by the way, Inhee told me you haven’t RSVP’d yet.”

He looks up from his phone, and then back at it again, his smile uneasy – a classic Doyoung gesture when he needed to ask about something he didn’t really want to. As if he needed to check his guest list again. “Would you be busy that day? I don’t recall you telling me you had to be out of town.”

She’s about to speak, when a breathless Lee Donghyuck appears out of the blue, rushing to Doyoung and sighing emphatically about this month’s sales numbers. She smiles and nods, exiting his office with a promise of talking later.

It’s just after lunch and well into Haewon’s food coma when her desk phone rings, startling her from a well-deserved but secret post-lunch doze.

“Dam-il Publishing, this is Haewon speaking.”

“Haewon!” The excited whisper is characteristic only of Nakamoto Yuta, whose wide-eyed gaze Haewon meets as she averts her eyes towards the Designers side of the office. “It’s me, it’s me!”

“Oh Yuta, that reminds me, I’ll need the proposed artwork for Cho Young Jun’s novel.”

“Cho Young Jun? The bald guy?”

“No! The prodigy! The Evergreen winner! I need it by today, Doyoung’s flying to New York tomorrow-”

“Oh, I’ve completed that weeks ago, I’ll email it over later whatever – listen, I heard what Doyoung asked you about just now. About the wedding.”

Haewon flinches, then realizes what Yuta would probably be thinking, and a small sigh of relief leaves her. “You mean Donghyuck told you.”

“I heard, Donghyuck told me – what does it matter… Is it because of the program? Did you get in?”

General nosiness aside, Yuta’s actually one of the few colleagues (other than Doyoung) whose company Haewon really enjoys. Which is why Haewon had told him about an application she made months ago, to pursue a master’s program in Literary Arts at Brown University. Needless to say, she had earned Yuta’s immediate and fervent support, knowing that studying English Literature instead of Creative Writing for her bachelor’s had been a cop-out on Haewon’s part and a regret she had drunkenly let slip to him at an informal company gathering.

She’d always wanted to study Creative Writing, and while she didn’t exactly need that master’s degree to become a writer per se, she really hopes to further her studies in fiction writing.

“No Yuta, I haven’t received news yet.”

“Shouldn’t you know by now?” Yuta has always been straightforward, “besides, why’re you keeping it a secret? You should just tell Doyoung; you’re so close, he’ll be happy for you. You shouldn’t have to feel guilty about taking your shot.”

The reality is, the situation is a lot more complicated than Yuta’s understanding. There’s the thing with leaving the company in the midst of this busy period when Doyoung needs his assistant, but there’s also the other thing, the bigger issue at stake. That Haewon is in love with Doyoung and might not necessarily want to see him walk down the aisle with a woman who isn’t her.

“It’s not that simple – besides, he’s been swamped ever since the acquisition.”

Dam-il Publishing Co. was a small local publishing company with a focus in Korean language fiction novels, until its recent acquisition by the large multinational New York-based Bertsman Publishing House. Despite the acquisition, Bertsman had allowed Dam-il to retain its name, knowing that it is an emerging trusted brand among aspiring and established writers, and a known publishing company in many Korean households. However, the acquisition had also brought Bertsman employees into the office, and the number of people were far too many for Doyoung to handle at the start.

Doyoung is also, generally, a less trusting person when it comes to work ethics. While he greatly appreciates his Dam-il subordinates and their efficiency, he has less to say about their Bertsman counterparts – in Yuta’s words, Doyoung finds them “fucking lazy”. Haewon has always been his key go-to person to check on their progress in their projects, and he relies on her effortlessly and wholeheartedly.

Doyoung is… something else. According to their mutual friend Johnny, Doyoung had majored in Finance in college, done inexplicably well and had received an offer from one of the big four financial consulting companies even before graduation. However, as Doyoung had told him upon graduation, that wasn’t the life he was after. He loved books and wanted to make a career out of it, so he started working for Dam-il as an Acquisitions Editor’s assistant right after graduation against the heed of his professors and university friends. He was, to say the least, smart and a fast learner, quickly making his way up the company ladder and was handed the highest rank of Managing Editor in just nine years (a fact that somehow only made Doyoung more attractive to Haewon).

Thanks to his work ethic and Dam-il’s excellent sales numbers, he’s now the Bertsman CEO Fulworth’s most trusted Managing Editor – something Johnny loves teasing him about.  

Yuta sighs into the phone, lifting her from her stupor against the quiet backdrop of a whirring air-conditioner and a bubbling coffee machine.

“Well nevertheless, you need to tell him soon, Haewon – especially if you can’t go to his wedding.”

Johnny is sitting in front of their living room window by the time Haewon reaches home. She’s completely exhausted, her cranberry lipstick visible only on the outer reaches of her mouth and her eyeliner leaving small charcoal patches beneath her lower lashes. It’s ten in the evening on a Friday night, but surprisingly Johnny is at home sipping red wine, his eyes relaxed and shut. His other hand gestures wildly and somewhat pretentiously like an overexcited conductor to what Haewon recognizes as the last line of Frank Sinatra’s I’ve Got The World On A String.

“You’re home early,” Haewon comments.

Johnny swings around in his chair. “Haewonnie, I feel like I’ve gotten old,” he pouts dramatically, even though, Haewon thinks, his bright, enthusiastic puppy-like expression definitely begs to differ.

“Mark asked me after work if I wanted to hit a bar downtown with the kids tonight – but I actually feel drained. I had to say no.” The slightly annoying and yet endearing pout hasn’t left his face.

Just as Doyoung is Fulworth’s golden boy, Mark Lee is Johnny’s – constantly trailing after him at his company. Despite being almost thirty-two years old and the head of his department, Johnny loves hanging out with the young employees and interns, determined to keep his youthfulness in check.

Haewon grew up in the same neighborhood as Johnny back in Chicago, where Johnny was popular among the Asian kids as the kind older brother to them, fending off bullies on their behalf and bringing them to bookstores and ice-skating rings and bowling alleys. When he turned fifteen, Johnny moved back to South Korea to attend high school – a decision that surprised everyone in the neighborhood. But Johnny has always done what Johnny wants and exceled in every situation, so his parents agreed. While Haewon did not consider herself particularly close to Johnny when they were younger, Johnny has always been generous with his concern for others. When he found out from his mother that she was planning a move to Korea three years ago, he reached out to her and offered to share his apartment with her.

(“The rent is too expensive anyway,” Johnny had insisted, but Haewon knew even then that he could definitely afford it given his salary.)

Johnny is… pretty much Haewon’s lifesaver. Even before she came to Korea, Johnny had everything arranged for her. Understanding that she had majored in English Literature and loved books, he hooked her up with a publishing job at Dam-il under Doyoung, a deed Haewon has always been insanely grateful for. And while she had been shy and quiet upon her arrival to Korea, his cheerful demeanor, along with his puppy-like enthusiasm and child-like laughter had been more than enough to draw Haewon out of her shell. Even though she had been depressed and lost in life, Johnny had been by her side, cheering her up and restoring her usual happy glow.

Unsurprisingly, Johnny is the director of the product design department for a leading technology conglomerate. Unlike Doyoung, Johnny actually enjoys the ‘hustler’ lifestyle of ‘work hard, play hard’.

They met in college where they were both in the Business faculty. Despite being inherently different, the two became close quickly, bonding over a shared distaste for unnecessary societal expectations and parochial attitudes stereotypical of elitists in their country. While growing up abroad made Johnny more open-minded and gentler with the people he met, Doyoung’s open-mindedness is the culmination of years of observing people and their idiosyncrasies. The tough experiences of witnessing school bullying and students’ imploding from academic stress fueled a quiet and righteous, vaguely Robin Hood-like, anger towards societal insularity, that is now characteristic of Kim Doyoung.

“You’re not old – besides, who wants to go to a bar when you can drink in the comfort of your own home?”

“I want to! Haewon-ah, you’re acting too old for your age-”

Her phone rings, interrupting Johnny’s nagging monologue. She glances at the caller ID before picking up quickly.

“Hey boss, what’s up?” In the background, she can hear Johnny making a chant out of the words ‘is it Doyoung?’, leaning out of his seat to peer over eagerly. She nods, and a huge grin spreads over his face.

“So sorry to disturb you this late, but it’s kind of an emergency- is that Johnny?”

It takes a moment for Haewon to realize, but Johnny has since progressed from his ‘is it Doyoung’ song to a strange jingle that sounds like ‘my friend Kim Doyoung, my brother Kim Doyoung, my love Kim Doyoung’ to the tune of a lullaby. “Yeah it is, he’s lying spread-eagled on the ground now and crying out your name in despair-”

Doyoung laughs, breathlessly and colorfully, sounding like a musical instrument of his own and making Haewon smile as she walks into her room and away from Johnny’s antics.

“Say hi to him for me. Okay so,” his voice turns serious, “do you have Cho Young Jun’s file?”

“Yeah I have it with me right now, it’s in my bag.”

“Oh thank God,” Doyoung heaves a sigh of relief, “sorry, I might need you to bring it to the airport tomorrow. I need his personal particulars and the signed hard copy of his indemnity form.”

“No apologies needed boss – but, so urgently?”

“Yeah,” Doyoung sounds frustrated, and Haewon can almost picture him running his fingers through his hair, a gesture not in the least unattractive to her. “Well he’s still considered a minor, so royalties will probably go directly to his guardian for safekeeping. And… They want him to do press.”

“Okay, so I’ll reach out to our usual media and PR agencies – what does that have to do with-”

“No…” Doyoung sighs, “American press; talk shows, interviews – things like that.”

“He’s seventeen.” Haewon raises an eyebrow, “he’s totally unprepared for that kind of thing. Plus, his English isn’t fluent, last time I checked.”

Johnny has since entered her room and conjured the most dramatically shocked expression Haewon has ever seen, as if Doyoung had informed her that Cho Young Jun would be going into prostitution instead of doing press. She glares at him as she listens to Doyoung’s instructions, ending the call with a, “okay sure, I’ll bring them for you tomorrow. Good night boss.”

Johnny smirks as she finishes the call, “ooh boss. Kinky. Me likey.”

Johnny is the only person privy to Haewon’s admittedly rather long term ‘crush’ on Doyoung, catching on rather quickly since they met and letting her down gently with “he’s attached, Haewonnie”. In fact, it’s been three years since Johnny has shared that piece of information with her, but Haewon is unfortunately still hopelessly in love with Doyoung.

Ever the best friend, while Johnny has told her that he’s worried about her pertaining to this, he manages to make the situation more light-hearted effortlessly. In fact, he sometimes cracks jokes at her expense to her privately and not unkindly, while knowing when to offer her a shoulder to cry on.

“You’ve heard me call him boss a thousand times,” she rolls her eyes, pushing him out of her room to rest for the night, “also, you’re driving me to the airport tomorrow.”

Johnny drums his fingers against the steering wheel, his cheeks puffing up as he waits for Haewon’s text to get to his car at the pick-up point. They had left the house at eight in the morning to catch Doyoung at the airport just in time before his flight, and Johnny really needs to catch up on sleep once they get home. He is absentmindedly humming to Alicia Keys’ If I Ain’t Got You on the radio, when Haewon clumsily gets into his car.

“Johnny-” At once, he realizes she’s ashen pale, her lips quivering.

“What’s wrong, Haewon? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”

“John, I just… I just saw…”

“What?” He starts the car and begins the route home when Haewon’s next words make him pull up at the side of the road in shock.

“Inhee’s cheating on Doyoung…”

xx

w/n: this fic will be updated regularly until its resolution, look out for an update every Thursday at 9pm KST. 

talk to me!! here 

[cryptocism]

So since pretty much everyone agrees that Tim needs a name change, and I think most people dislike the first two RR costumes (I dislike the pretty much Robin one too, because it seems like he hasn’t accept losing Robin, when I feel a lot of his comics right after Bruce W died was about that?) which leads me to: What do you think Tim’s costume would look like if he got a good outfit, and what name?

o yeah i was not a fan of the cowl. and the n52 design is just… so busy and excessively accessorised (excessorised???) - i drew it a couple times for this project im workin on and the whole process was me squinting at reference panels and whispering softly but passionately “what the fuck” - and i agree on the rebirth RR design, it looks more derivative of dick and jasons retconned robin costumes than inspired by tims og 80s design (however. the unternet costume - its simple and appealing and clearly nightwing-inspired and i am a fan, also the giant scythe/halberd/mace thing was so ridiculous i loved it)

which is why i thank pat gleason for my life bc tims new outfit is such a good modernisation of his original robin design. so i mean to answer ur question i think tim has a p good design right now (although not for long i guess since they announced hed get a new look/codename soon) BUT if i were in charge of debuting a new design and name… hm……….

whatever his new name is, it’d preferably have something to do with wherever his personal storyline is headed, which i dont know, and for all my complaining abt how red robin is a shit name i dont actually have great alternatives lol. i did see somewhere the suggestion for the name “Cardinal” which i dont hate, so ill use that as a placeholder for now (although “Halcyon” is an interesting option)

tangentially, my personal preference for his robin graduation would be a miniseries featuring tim and damian both as robin, begrudgingly having to work together to fight some greater enemy and becoming true brothers along the way. ending with tim giving damian his blessing to be robin (a post-mantle blessing but still) with the first amicable passing on of the robin title literally ever

as for Look: his new design should a) accurately reflect his character b) mesh well with whatever tone his personal storyline is going for c) be a natural progression of gleasons newest iteration while still d) able to stand as its own iconic look

i always thought tim would do really well in a more grounded noir-style detective story, both using and especially subverting the tropes of the genre (for instance tim befriends every femme fatale and romances absolutely zero of them. theyre pals and have weekly movie nights or smthn) obvs using some of the mystery elements to springboard into classic comic wild times etc etc. theres also a great opportunity to include some more cyberpunk aesthetics to the look and feel ofthe story

i.e. tim is part of the waynetech r&d teams, working with them to develop new technologies, and proceeding to test out some of the prototypes while doing vigilante work (bc terry had to get his rocket boots from somewhere ok). gotham is still gotham, but its starting to see some of that neo-futuristic/blade runner flavour from batman beyond.

so. cyberpunk detective story starring cha boy tim drake. im not gonna draw it rn but lemme just gather some ref elements here in case i ever do

first off - motorcycle, obviously. redbird is back babey and this time its a two-wheeler. all his gear would be modded the hell out of, but the motorcycle itself would be an approximate balance of 70% ducati and 30% tron lightcycle situation. a speedy bike with ample room for the edgy overkill batfam aesthetic, with maybe a little akira in there who knows

same goes for helmet; 70/30 on this modern/cyberpunk situation. heres a quickly photoshopped “cardinal” helmet lol 

although theres totally room for some daft-punk leds in there. serving as a heads up display AND a fun neon aesthetic. I really want to play into that John Wick neo-noir situation.

besides that… ive got a preference for street style over the superhero spandex, so… detective jacket. every detective has a good jacket. norm breyfogle made a comment on his early tim robin designs that itd be pretty either/or on jacket vs cape, merging the two looked a little silly. for robin they probably decided on cape to keep things classic, but for cardinal i can do what i want

and i want to bring back some of this popped collar.

which i basically did for that other tim design i drew, which i still like, so this one would probably be at least a lil borrowed from that. 

attempting to merge cape/jacket might end up smthn like these:

which admittedly i like. 

admittedly… i do also like the concept of wings introduced in tims n52 design, i just think they couldve been hidden/incorporated better

greig rapson had a sweet robin design that had a sort of flight-suit (which dove into the actual mechanics??? i love) and since id want to dive into tim testing out waynetech prototypes, its a pretty good natural progression from him to terrys glider thing

the whole ensemble would be fairly understated however - enough to semi blend in with any crowd, hero or civilian. after all the story focus would be just as much about solving the mystery as it is punching the bad guy

the various interchangeable gadgets would be both prototypes of terrys eventual batsuit, and also all the failed prototypes that never managed to get off the ground. just to add an element of tension/plot devices wherein tims gear could break or malfunction pretty much anytime.

im fixated on this rocket boot situation though so itd be a paired down version of terrys eventual seamless/invisible design. still noticable and clunky, but working with the sleek modernish style outlined by gleason

smthn almost similar to the prowler actually from spiderverse - as in: Clearly Rocketboots, and clearly diy’d the shit out of, but still working with that Aesthetic

(most of the screencaps of prowler are dark af so im taking this from jesus alonso iglesias concept art) 

im debating on the addition of more overtly birdlike/cyberpunk elements, so ill add this here cause its dope as fuck (from ahmet atil akar). 

and a lot of batclan capes tend to end with that concave spiked look, which works great for bats but not really for birds. a tailcoat might emulate the bird tail, but it also might evoke Penguin a lil too much idk.

also in the interest of keeping everything within the same sort of design language, i would Love to see some new villains emulating deconstructionist/architectural kawakubo fashion:

like could you imagine the supervillain potential

so uhhh yeah. budding cyberpunk detective story with a little noir and a little technological advancement progressing in fits and starts. taking from the gleason foundation with heavy black featuring brighter coloured accents and modern sleekness, made a little dorky via prototype technology, with some extra neon blade runner shit thrown in there.

depending on how much i love or hate the new codename/design reveal i might draw this via inspired motivation or spiteful motivation lol

[dragonrajafanfiction]

Dragon Dancer IV: The Shrine

From the front seat of the sports car, Lu Mingfei tucked his hands behind his head. “They’re not even following us. They must really think I’m going to kill you. You’re that valuable huh?”

I stared silently out the window, heartache roiling in my chest. Ru’Yi lay against me, eyes closed, drooling into my shirt.

Crow had painted me as a valuable hostage used as a bargaining chip to prompt the surrender of Lu Mingfei into the hands of Hydra to be turned over to Cassell College as traitors to the cause of dragonslaying.

When we came out of the internet café where he and Nono had been hanging out, Crow looked badly beaten, I was limp in the arms of a third unknown person, and Nono was waving a submachine gun around while carrying my baby.

Crow decided to add even more drama, desperately calling out for his snipers to open fire on him to keep from being taken captive, but the bewildered and concerned Hydra Crane group were reluctant to do so. A bold and stupid move on his part, but it showed how much he knew his people.

Once I was in the car, Lu Mingfei shocked me again. He stood up straight and ordered all the people in the street into a windowless room of the Internet Cafe where Nono trapped them all inside.

When he came back, I was staring at him in open-mouthed shock. Who was this Mingfei? Since when did he have this much of a take charge attitude? I knew he had training for a year in South Korea, but this was nothing like the Mingfei I recalled returning from there.

What had happened to make him like this?

Crow answered Mingfei’s question with proud gusto. “Yes, I’m no longer the simple lackey Crow. Look at my clothes! They’re designed by one of the best clothiers in Tokyo! Look at this car! Do you think a low-level has stuff like this? don’t call me Crow any more. I’m Saeki Ryuuji!”

I turned to where Johann Chu was sitting. He was leaning against the window, deeply asleep. The Johann Chu I knew wouldn’t be sleeping right now or if he was, I imagined him sitting up, one eye open and ready for anything.

I turned to Nono who was staring at me. “You really are in love with him. You know for a while, I thought Lu Mingfei was schizophrenic myself I hadn’t seen too much evidence of Johann Chu. Not even my profiling ability led anywhere.”

“Where have you guys been?” I asked.

“Johann and I grew up together in the same hometown and went to the same school. We figured that was the best place to find any remaining clues about his disappearance. Instead, when I went to my school, I found out that there was never any Johann there and that I was the top student at Shilan High. I was even the captain of the basketball team.”

I laughed. “But that’s impossible.”

“Girls were falling all over him.” Nono smirked, waggling her eyebrows.. 

I looked between Mingfei and Nono in disbelief. “But that’s... that can’t be right...”

Mingfei lifted his eyes to the rearview mirror. “What do you mean?”

"How does Johann disappearing make you suddenly great at basketball? That is not how things work! If Nono disappears does that mean I get to marry Caesar? Or that I’d even want to?”

Nono poked me sharply, making me yelp. “Or that he would want to marry you?” She shot back. She folded her arms over her chest, rolling her eyes to the ceiling. “I could actually see that happening, given your S-rank. But I see your point. You’d still have to agree with it. My not being there wouldn’t play a factor.”

Mingfei became quiet and pensive. “Let’s talk about this later, Carli.”

We arrived in the mountains outside Tokyo. Drizzle shrouded the dark ancient buildings, but I knew where I was. This was the shrine where Chisei had given away his rights as patriarch and where he had hidden Chime and Erii before they were sent to South Korea.

A young man in priestly robes led us from the car through the wooden corridors of the complex with Crow hanging back behind us. I glanced at him. “Hey, where are Chime and Erii right now?” I asked quietly.

He looked down at me. “I can’t tell you that. I can only assure you that they are alright.”

I nodded twice and faced forward.

Moss covered the stone ground. A large lamp lit up an ancient buddha statue that was worn and blackened by age. The priest stopped, lit a match and put the flame to a kerosene lamp on the wall before opening a hidden door there. Behind the door was an open walled in courtyard that hid a small Japanese style cottage. 

“You guys can stay here.” Crow took the key from the priest and tossed to Mingfei.

“What is this place?”

“White Feather Shrine. It’s the Hydra Cemetery.”

The priest left us while we entered. Furniture was limited to a table and three chairs but Crow went to a closet to pull out a few mattresses.

“You’ll be safe here. The Family business doesn’t extend to the cemetery. This is not a place we keep monitored. We don’t even direct the priests. It’s a sacred space. Plus, they liked Chisei here.” Crow glanced at me. “No place is one hundred percent secure, but this is far better than Tokyo.”

“There’s no cell signal here. When Chisei was around, he would come here to hide from his responsibilities. Not even Tachibana could locate him here.”

Mingfei chuckled at that.

Nono mumbled, looking around, no doubt using her profiling skill to verify his claims. “Are you telling me that you prepared a safe house just for us?”

He chuckled. “You’re always doubting me! Anyway, Carli, I’ll have the priests bring the rest of your supplies here.” 

He walked over to me, leaning over the sleeping Ru’Yi. “I just want a picture of her! But right now its too risky!” He sighed wistfully.

“Well, hopefully when all this is over...” 

He gave me a smile and a thumbs up before turning and walking out of the building. As soon as he got outside, he pulled a cigarette from his pocket and lit it, taking a long draw. I watched him go, unaware that he smoked.

Without a doubt, he held back from smoking around me and the baby.

Nono finished patrolling all the rooms. She still looked dissatisfied, pursing her lips. “I guess it’s safe, we should rest for now.”

“Alright, you and Carli get the left bedroom. Zihang and I will stay in the right.” Mingfei reached over for Chu Zihang, whose eyes widened as he backed away.

“Chu Zihang stays with me.” Nono said.

“I don’t think so!” My hackles immediately rose on the back of my neck.

“Yeah... he’s a ... he’s a man...” Mingfei trailed off, not wanting to so openly state the obvious.

“First of all, not in his mind he’s not and second of all, he doesn’t remember marrying you, Carli.” She crossed her arms and smirked. “So please don’t get jealous.”

My jaw dropped. “Excuse me! That doesn’t me you c-”

“Thirdly, his mental state is unstable and I don’t want you two freaking him out with your memories of the other Chu Zihang!” She snapped at me.

I watched, heartbroken, as Zihang quickly moved to stand behind Nono. He looked at me, eyes wide and shook his head.

I thought I had endured pain up until now. However, this simple, silent rejection cut deeper than a sword. I turned my back and walked away, face frozen, breathing shallow. 

The cottage had a wrap around porch. I sat on the steps facing the back garden, staring out into the dark, shivering in the chilly damp air.

Footsteps came behind me and stopped. I was aware of Lu Mingfei standing at the corner of the porch. Was he surprised I wasn’t crying? It hurt to much to cry.

Ru’Yi stirred in my arms, seeking comfort from the chill. Mingfei approached and wrapped a blanket over my shoulders, settling next to me.

“I’m sorry. I was going to get this figured out before you two met each other again. I didn’t want you to see him like this.” He said quietly.

The house was old and the soundproofing wasn’t very good. I could hear Nono instructing Johann. “The shampoo and the shower gel and in this wooden bucket. I put your clothes next to the door.”

Ru’Yi was pulling at my shirt. I sighed deeply. “I have to feed her.” I said.

Lu Mingfei looked away when I lifted my shirt and pulled my bra down. Ru’Yi latched on immediately and I covered her with a blanket.

“Did Johann ever tell you about Odin?” He asked.

[jungxk]

just one (v)

notes: the only guy on campus who’s track record trumped that of your best friend’s - park jimin - was jeon jungkook. not that that was a problem…until he set his sights on you.

warnings: smut (nothing too crazy yet just missionary and mentions of cum, protected sex, grinding), bad habits (mentions of drinking, smoking etc)

genre: humour, drama, romance, college!au

wordcount: 6.5k

part i // part ii // part iii // part iv // part v // part vi // part vii // part viii // part ix // part x 

you are not a morning person. never have been, probably never will be. you could probably count on three fingers the people you'd willingly wake up before seven for, and unfortunately jimin happened to be one of them. something was up, he didn't say anything but you could feel it like a spider-sense; jimin was off recently. his replies to your texts too slow, his tone too vague. didn't sigh your name over the phone when you called to talk to him about the dream you just had at stupid o clock. it was such a tiny change but to you it felt like a planetary shift because you know him. in a world of uncertainties, jimin was the only constant, the only thing you could depend on. so you were going to figure out what was wrong.

which is why you let yourself into his place, taking up your designated seat behind the kitchen counter while you wait for him to wake up. you'd barge into his room yourself but prior experience taught you that you should refrain from doing so in case he had any...guests over. so you wait as patiently as a frothy cup of coffee can allow, almost throwing yourself out of the stool in delight when you finally hear taehyung pad down the hallway.

"tae!" you shout the second the boy walks in, making him jump back against the door frame in shock.

"fuck!" he stutters, laying a palm over his chest to ease his pulse. his hair is sticking up cutely in all directions, and from the look of the dried drool on his chin and lack of pants, you can only guess tae came downstairs for a glass of water and a quick piss before heading back to bed. "are you trying to kill me or what?!"

"sorry," you wince, appeasing him by pouring a cup of coffee; extra strong with lots of milk, just how tae likes it. he takes the mug thankfully, downing a few good gulps while you wait with wriggling hips. "sometimes i forget i don't live here anymore."

"you're telling me," he mutters from behind the rim. his eyes are still half closed with sleep, tee all rumpled when he slides a hand under it to scratch his belly. "you know we still keep tampons in the bathroom? the number of times one of my lays has taken it to mean we're something serious, ugh."

"really? that's so sweet!" you pinch his cheeks, totally ignoring the disdain in his voice, but taehyung is too tired to pry your hands away from his face anyway. "but listen, the reason why i barged in at this time is because-"

"jimin's not here," taehyung cuts off between his smushed cheeks. "he left for the gym at like, the ass crack of dawn or something."

you visibly deflate. "since when does he ever go to the gym this early?"

"since now i guess," he shrugs, feeling a wave of sympathy for you when you sigh in disappointment, arms falling limply by your sides. jimin had clearly been avoiding you. the fact that you came all this way just to see him only to be let down again made taehyung want to wrap you up in his arms upon instinct, tucking away the residual anger he had towards his flatmate for later. "hey, don't make that face. last night he said he's staying late at the library today, hopefully you can catch him there?"

"hopefully," you grumble into his chest. you're so tired and tae's t-shirt is so soft, his body so warm you almost drift off while standing up if the whole jimin situation wasn't sounding like an alarm in the back of your head. "i haven't seen him in like, a week tae. that's the same as a century for us! i wonder what's got him so hung up...did one of his dates go badly or something?"

"don't think so," taehyung yawns. "sounded awful busy with some chick last night. if he's upset over a girl he's definitely started moving on already," he says, the look of defeat returning on your face again. "he's just busy," he assures, not even managing to sound like he believes it himself but at this point taehyung would do anything to get rid of those puppy eyes of yours. "you know what it's like at the end of the semester. i bet you'll catch him in the library tonight and everything will be fine."

"yeah, okay," you pout, smushing your head into taehyung's chest.

x

x

x

"was he there?" seulgi calls before you even have both feet through the front door. she gets her answer soon enough when you drag yourself to the sitting room, flopping into the empty space next to her on the couch in defeat. she runs her fingers through your tangled hair with an apologetic pout. "i'm sure he's just busy, babe."

"he went to the gym," you say, voice muffled into the cushions but she can still hear your annoyance. "i woke up at dawn for that prick. if i don't grab him in the library later i'm gonna camp out on his fucking couch, watch me. he can't run forever!"

"i mean this is jimin we're talking about," jisoo calls from the kitchen island, already half way done making hot drinks for the three of you. "boys like him would run to the ends of the earth before facing up to their bullshit."

seulgi shakes her head in disgust while she keeps petting you. "men."

"how have you two never had a fight before anyway?" jisoo asks when she comes over to join you, handing you your drink. you sit up to cup it gratefully, closing your eyes while you inhale the sweetness of the steam. god you were so fucking tired. "you've known each other for like, years. and you're telling me he's never hit you with one of his hissy fits before?"

you think about it for a second. "no, actually. if we ever do disagree we just say it up front like an old married couple with too many kids. remember that time i bought that cute faux-fur parka and jimin told me i looked like a game of thrones character?"

"i mean he wasn't wrong but you don't say that," seulgi says.

jisoo peers upwards thoughtfully. "which one though? if it's ned then fine but sansa's cute-"

"i'm saying jimin doesn't do this," you stress, drawing back the girls' attention. "we don't keep shit from each other. he's usually the one telling me why he's avoiding someone else!" you drum your fingers on the mug nervously. "which means that something is seriously wrong. like, not-only-is-he-avoiding-me-but-he's-avoiding-his-feelings wrong."

seulgi snorts. "when has jimin ever processed his feelings like a normal person? there's a reason why he's fucked his way through campus."

"exactly. whatever it is, i'm sure it has nothing to do with you," jisoo sips her drink. "maybe he got crabs again and he's embarrassed to tell you."

you shoot her a flat look. "are you kidding? did you forget who went to the sex clinic with him?"

jisoo can't help spluttering a laugh. "oh yeah!"

"speaking of crabs," seulgi paws your thigh excitedly. "are you going to jungkook's today?"

in an instant you feel your cheeks heat up but you just shrug casually. "i mean, i have a late class and some time to kill before jimin hunting, so...probably, yeah."

"of course she is," jisoo wiggles her eyebrows so you squirm beside her. "she's been to his place every night this week!"

seulgi claps her hands to her cheeks, her smile so wide it splits her face. "i still can't believe you're fucking jeon jungkook!"

you try to laugh it off but you can't stop the pounding of your heart in your chest. even the mention of jungkook's name has your hands a little clammy, your belly tightening in anticipation. you were waiting for yourself to get tired of seeing him every night, but the opposite was happening - it became the highlight of your day, the reason for the extra glow in your smile. jungkook held up to the rumours; you couldn't help but admit he left little to be desired in the bedroom if anything at all.

"look, you're blushing again!" jisoo squeals, pinching your cheeks.

"of course she is! i would be too if i was jungkook's latest squeeze!"

"latest," you remind them both, but you're unable to force the smile from your face. "definitely not his last."

"like that matters!" jisoo grins back at you. "just enjoy the ride, babe. literally."

"you're awful."

x

x

x

"___ was here this morning," taehyung says when jimin finally arrives home. "she was looking for you."

"oh?" he turns to taehyung, who's got his arms crossed. he doesn't look happy at all, and jimin all but rolls his eyes at him. tae could get so serious sometimes and it was usually for nothing. "i'll call her after class."

"she wants to see you," taehyung says, his tone gentle but firm. jimin doesn't answer. "come on, jimin-ah. it's not fair on ___. you can't avoid her forever."

jimin busies himself with emptying his gym bag, throwing dirty sweatshirts around the room. "i'm not avoiding her."

now taehyung is the one rolling his eyes. "seriously?"

"what?"

"i've seen you trek to that girl's house when you had a raging fever and a report due the next day!" he closes the door behind him when he finally enters jimin's room so he can't ignore him, setting down on the end of his bed that's still covered in clothes. "the only reason i can think of that you wouldn't go to ___ for a problem is if the problem is her."

"stop pussy footing around tae," jimin sighs. "just tell me what you wanna say already, i don't have time for this."

taehyung braces himself a moment, turning his head to the side with his tongue in his cheek. when he finally meets jimin's eyes his gaze is steady. "if avoiding ___ is your way of punishing her for getting with jungkook, you really are an asshole."

jimin's face screws up in disgust. "the fuck? what are you-"

"you haven't seen her since the party," tae leans back, flattening his palms behind him. "aka, since she started seeing jungkook. you really want me to believe that's a coincidence? it's pretty obvious you've got your knickers in a twist over it even if you don't see it yourself. it's how you deal with stuff, jimin: you don't. fucking more girls than usual, working out early, studying late. not giving yourself time to think about what's actually bothering you."

"since when did this become a fucking intervention about my life? full offence, but you're the last one to be pointing fingers, taehyung," jimin retorts, but the boy's stare doesn't relent. jimin huffs in exasperation, going back to sorting his bag. "i'm busy. the semester's almost up, i have shit to do. why are you acting like i haven't seen ___ in a month when its literally been like, a couple days at most-"

"it's been a week! you don't even go this long without talking to your mum!"

"and what's it to you? what's the sudden interest for?" jimin finally bursts, dark eyes alight with frustration. his ashy hair falls into his eyes slightly before he flicks it away again, not liking the what the pressure taehyung was putting on him was doing to his composure. he hated appearing frazzled, taken off guard. jimin was always ready for anything even a conversation that didn't serve a purpose other than offending him a little.

"interest? jimin, you're my friend," he shakes his head. it was the reason why he and jimin usually got on so well but also why communication was an issue sometimes; they were so different from each other. even though taehyung was coming from a place of concern, jimin's gut reaction was to get defensive and that wasn't going to undo itself overnight. "i care about you. i don't like seeing you like this."

"like what?" he narrows his eyes. "what do you mean?"

"the reason why this whole thing bothers you so much. jungkook and ___," taehyung eyes jimin carefully, waits for him to catch on but he doesn't. "it's because he's you. he's just like you. and if she can fall for him and make it work in even the slightest way, it's a slap in the face to all the things you've always been too scared to pursue with her."

jimin scoffs, shaking his head in disbelief. out of all the things he was expecting to come out of taehyung's mouth, he wasn't expecting that. something so absurd, so juvenile. was it really so hard to believe that he could be close to a girl without wanting to fuck her? he doesn't know whether to feel offended or disappointed when he turns to look back at taehyung after a long minute of silence. "first of all, this is jungkook we're talking about. it's not gonna work. give it a couple weeks she's gonna be crying on that pillow behind you in no time," he pauses from turning back to his closet. "oh, and you're fucking delusional."

"am i?" taehyung presses, but jimin has already ended the conversation, his back turned to him while he kicks about more dirty laundry across the carpet. tae licks his lips, irritated. if he wanted to be difficult, two could play. "fine. we'll talk about something else."

jimin huffs. "great."

"you ever gonna tell her about hoseok?"

he freezes. it's like time has stopped for a short moment, taehyung's question bouncing around in his skull like one of those nineties windows screensavers. he doesn't know why the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck stand up, but jimin's face remains poised if only a little alarmed. "how do you even...?"

tae shrugs. "because i know you, jimin. you acted fishy every time ___ mentioned hobi, especially their breakup. i asked hyung, he told me."

upon examining taehyung's disapproving expression, fury bubbles up in his chest again. the fuck was he to go prying in places he shouldn't, trying to dictate what was right and wrong when he wasn't as close to you as jimin was? he can't keep the anger out of his voice or face this time, fists clenched while he grips a vest just give himself something to do. "you ever gonna mind your own business taehyung? like literally, ever?"

"you're being a dick and you know it." it's not sharp or with the intent of riling him up anymore. the statement is quiet. a fact.

it's the exact reason why jimin leaves without another word.

x

x

x

to put it bluntly, jungkook was waiting to get sick of you.

it should be any time now since his flings don't last long, but then he gets a taste of your pussy again, watches you undress for him, rocks his erection through your slickness and instead wonders how he ever lived these twenty-two years without you. jungkook fucks you today like he has been all week; firmly, passionately. you've gotten so used to the banging of his broken headboard drowning your moans out you don't think to quieten them anymore, hands clawing at jungkook's back and ass in an attempt to push him ever deeper.

he groans into your neck at how eagerly you receive him, the way you split your thighs wider and clench around his cock desperately. he never would have thought you the type to love a good pounding - it really was always the quiet ones. there's something about the way you writhe under him, your eyes rolling back into your head with a flutter, mouth hanging open in ecstasy. he could never get enough of you. and it scared him a little.

"jungkook," you beg when he starts to slow down on purpose, your fingers threading into the nape of his neck to tug at his hair painfully. but he doesn't relent. he knows you're about to cum and he just loves to draw it out, loves to make it last as long as possible. it was a little intimidating how well he knew your body already, because if he was fucking you this good within the first week then what the hell was waiting for you in the future? you squirm when jungkook angles himself to drag over your clit, rolling into it with enough force to get you whining but not enough to push you over the edge. "please, just! just let me...jungkook!"

you suddenly feel his teeth flat against your neck: he's laughing at you. it makes your face heat even further even though you didn't think it was possible once he hoisted one of your thighs over his elbow. he starts to thrust harder but keeps his measured pace, shoving you up the bed steadily. you were practically in tears under him when he gives one of your nipples a gentle suck, beautifully contrasting the burning stretch of his cock inside you. god, you wanted to cum so bad. "jungkook, i'm begging you..."

"what's the rush?" he whispers under your ear. you shiver. he lowers your leg down, hands slipping further to now angle your ass so he can drive into you with force but halt all friction against your clit in the process. the sudden off-on stimulation was making you sweat and grow delirious, your face burying into jungkook's neck as he fucks you with renewed vigour. he likes watching your tits shake whenever he speeds up, how your face scrunches more at the wet, slapping sounds of sex getting louder. even when he's balls deep, jungkook is always on the hunt for new ways to fluster you.

"baby," you whisper suddenly, feather light over his bottom lip. you say it so delicately he almost misses it. he watches with hooded eyes and a sweaty brow when you place a gentle, chaste kiss over the mole under his mouth. the action is so overwhelmingly intimate that jungkook's heart practically lurches out from his chest. you're so pretty with your bitten lips and sparkling eyes underneath him that his brain short circuits for a second, causing him to pause mid-thrust before something clicks: he wants you to cum. now.

it's funny how it's the simplest action that gets jungkook to ram you into orgasm. one little peck and suddenly he's wild with the need to bury his cock into the very back of your cunt, feel you pulse around him. for him. and you do; it only takes a couple minutes of rough thrusting for jungkook to have you moaning into his skin helplessly, your body jolting with the force of your release so that you rut up to meet his hips in a frenzy. he revels in it, licking up your neck while he finishes with a grunt and listens to you whine at the never ending aftershocks. you're both gasping and exhausted by the time he finally slows to a stop, head dipping into your shoulder before he collapses into you. the feel of your fingers running through his sweaty hair, cradling him against your body while you lie there together almost makes him forget to pull out, knot up and bin the condom.

it's difficult not to rush back into your arms again once he returns to the bed. he didn't think he'd like being held so much; jungkook has had a lot of sex with a lot of girls but it was never this...comforting. easy.

"so are you ever gonna tell me about this one?" you ask as you crawl into his damp chest. you like to trace over the sweat around his nipples after sex, watch him squirm and whine, but this time you venture upwards to the tattoo across his chest. it rests perfectly in the dip between his collar bones, a line of roman numerals you had been wandering about ever since you caught a peek through his v neck that day. jungkook doesn't reply, too busy catching his breath. you wrap the sheet around your breasts before cinching your brows in concentration. "i know it's a date. it has to be, with the way the numbers are separated. the day you lost your virginity?"

jungkook rolls his eyes. "do i look like a fifteen year old girl?"

you pinch one of his nipples, earning a short squeak from him. "don't insult fifteen year old girls. the day you got crabs for the first time?"

"no."

"chlamydia?"

"no!"

"herpes?"

"what is it with you and associating me with venereal disease?" he huffs, reaching over to drink some water from a bottle beside the bed. still, it's cute the way your lips set into a determined line while you concentrated. you fit in perfectly with his messy little studio, wrapped in his sheets and covered in his lovebites. jungkook isn't usually one for pillow talk simply because he doesn't have a lot to say after he's got his fill, but there's something extremely satisfying about keeping you in his bed if only to indulge in the fact he's the only man who gets to see you like this, naked and soft after sex. it made him feel smug. special. not many men got to enjoy this so enjoy you he would.

you trace around his nipple again while you think, and he shivers at the contact. he can feel your smooth calf rub up his leg absent-mindedly, causing his still-sore dick to stir in the beginnings of new arousal. it didn't help that you held the sheet up under your breasts while you sat beside him, pushing them together as if purely for his viewing pleasure. not that you had any idea, flipping some hair over your shoulder before locking eyes with him again seriously. they're somehow alluring and mischievous and adorable all that the same time when you say, "is it the day you watched the episode of naruto where jiraiya died?"

his suddenly looks visibly upset. "we don't talk about that episode in this house."

you giggle when he turns his head away from you. "are you crying, jungkook?"

"he was his sensei!" he complains, still refusing to look at you even when you wind your arms around his neck with a light laugh. you kiss his jaw softly, placating him enough to show you his scowl before you're kissing that too. his face is still slightly bruised from the fight, so you're careful to pepper over the little nicks. jungkook can't help but relax into you, mouth falling slack and letting you apologise with little pecks. he traces your chin gently with his fingers when he wants more, about to part your mouth and rub his semi into your thigh when-

"is it the day you ate six ramen cups in one sitting?"

he pauses. "actually, you're right i should get that tattooed it was a really proud day for me. they were fire noodles too so you wouldn't believe the ring sting wh-" he cocks his head, a crinkle forming on his nose bridge when he squints in confusion. "wait, how do you even know that?"

"yoongi told me," you grin, pulling away to wiggle your hips playfully against his side, reminding jungkook of his growing erection. "he gave me his number so we can gossip about you."

jungkook takes the opportunity to grab your thigh, using his hips to suddenly roll you underneath him again. you gasp, feeling jungkook part your legs around his body to accommodate his weight on you. the skin of his lower abdomen lines up with your still sensitive wetness, making you yelp at the warm contact all of a sudden. pulling the sheet away from you with a wicked smile, jungkook relishes in your embarrassed gulp when your breasts press flush into his bare chest.

"so you and hyung talk now?" he murmurs, reaching to tease your nipple this time. you crush your teeth into your lower lip, jungkook's attentive stare and grabby hands making your heart beat a mile a minute all over again. his hair is pushed back to reveal his strong brows, the slant of his smirk as boyish as ever, dimples showing. god he was so pretty. "first hobi hyung, then me, now yoongi...you're really working your way through the group, aren't you noona?"

"don't tell me you're jealous, romeo," you huff, but your voice isn't as steady as you'd like. he hums a laugh into your collar bones, your eyes fluttering shut when you feel the wetness of his tongue trace your skin. it's so warm and hypnotic, turning you into a pliant doll underneath him while he sucks more hickeys over your skin. jungkook knew how to shut a girl up, that much was apparent by the whimpers that slipped from your mouth. and it almost worked. "the day you got your first xbox?"

he sighs, dropping his head into your chest before rolling off you in defeat. you clearly pushed all chances of a round three off the table so he just lies back and throws an arm over his eyes lazily. "no. you're never gonna guess it, trust me."

you scoot closer, taking up the challenge. "first camera?"

"no."

"first overwatch win?"

"no."

"the day you got that ugly truck?"

"take that back, she's not ugly!"

"first threesome? first pair of timberlands? first linkin park album?"

jungkook groans. jesus, was he that transparent? he peeks through one eye to quickly scan his messy room, looking for any sign of rock or heavy metal memorabilia because he sure as hell didn't tell anyone about his embarrassing emo phase. sure enough he spots the old posters rolled up and tossed into the bottom of his open wardrobe, the linkin park and evanescence ones sticking out enough for someone observant enough to spot it from across the room. another reminder why jungkook doesn't like bringing girls back to his place. and the downside to hooking up with smart chicks. "alright inspector gadget, that's enough-"

"i've got it!" you shout, clapping your hands excitedly. "i bet it's that time when you first touched a girls tit! weren't you like, fourteen? it was behind the changing rooms at your old dance school, remember?"

jungkook's covers his face in mortification. he was really going to kill yoongi with his bare hands the next time he saw him. "okay look, first of all she was a c cup which was a big deal back then! and second, if i tell you will you promise to stop talking to hyung about my embarrassing back stories?"

"yes!" you lie, eyes lighting up as you bounce cutely. "tell me, tell me!"

jungkook chews the inside of his cheek bloody, cheeks flushing bright pink all the way up to his ears. he looks so cute, so young and vulnerable while he fidgets about and twiddles his thumbs, adam's apple bobbing when he gulps. it didn't help that you were watching him expectantly like a hawk.

"well?" you press, tilting your head to meet his eyes from where he avoids looking at you.

jungkook's cheeks are now practically tomato red, doe eyes meeting yours hesitantly when he mumbles, "it's my mum's birthday."

the warmth that floods your chest is unexpected, and you feel it ripple throughout your body in waves. jungkook rubs the tip of his nose, feigning coolness even though his palms are definitely sweating. especially considering the residual history with your own mother - would it make you sad? angry? was he stupid for telling you the truth and not letting you believe it was one of your ridiculous guesses if only to spare you the short anguish? just when he thinks he could die of embarrassment, wishing that the earth would split and swallow him up whole so he wouldn't have to endure your gawking, you sit yourself on his lap. jungkook looks at you in surprise, hands fidgeting even more around your hips when he watches you smile at him like that. out of nowhere you lean into him, swerving down to press a sweet kiss over the numbers inked across his chest. he all but swoons.

"so," you say finally, voice velvet soft without even a hint of derision despite your next words. "you're a mama's boy."

"shut up," he grumbles, but jungkook can't help but take delight in the way you cup his cheeks and turn him back to kiss you, pulling you closer and letting you grind into his forgotten hard-on. you were already tugging the sheet away from his waist, humming contently at the warmth of his skin under your hands. he must have been a saint in his last life to pull a girl this eager. "hun, wait. lemme prep you, shh-"

"don't care," you gasp, tugging his lower lip between your teeth to make him groan. "want your dick in me."

jungkook can't help but grin arrogantly into the kiss. "so is that your play? the sensitive, small-town-boy thing is what does it for you?" you don't reply because yes is the answer and you both know it, instead opting to lick your way up jungkook's throat while you hastily position the head of his cock against you. "didn't know you were such a textbook romcom protagonist, noona."

"just shut up and fuck me before i-" you freeze instantly when you see the time on flash on your phone on the floor when seulgi's text appears. your eyes nearly pop out of your head, jumping off jungkook's dick faster than he can blink. "shit, i'm late!"

he pouts childishly, neglected cock sitting there while you tug on your underwear and race around the room in search of your clothes. "what happened to wanting my dick in you?"

"later," you pant, bending to look under the bed. "if i don't catch jimin now then that idiot is gonna build a fort in that fucking gym this weekend, i know it," you finally find your shirt thrown into a pile of jungkook's laundry, holding it up to put it on before you gasp at it in shock. "oh my god! jungkook!"

"what?" he yawns, already settling back into the pillows.

you flip the shirt to show him the front of it angrily, the large cum stain streaking its way from one corner to the other. "look what you did earlier! i can't wear this!"

he snorts when you hurl the t shirt at him, holding it up to get a good look at it and trying not to feel too proud of himself. "oh my god, it's all the way up to the collar, look! you ever wonder how fast cum travels, like damn how many miles an hour is this? i'm impressed with myself!"

even you can't help but laugh at his stupid comment. "god, why are boys so dumb..."

"hey!" he squawks when you tug one of his huge white tees, stuffing the ends into your jeans as you shimmy them on hurriedly. "that's mine!"

"and that top was mine before you got your jizz all over it!" you shove your shoes on throwing your phone into your jacket pocket. "we'll trade back after you wash it. that was my favourite black crew neck you know!"

"are you just using that as an excuse to see me again?" he wiggles his eyebrows, scooting to sit on the end of the bed so he can reach over and tug your hips to him while you quickly tie up your hair.

you eye him. "if you don't want me to come back, that's fine."

he pinches your ass. "tomorrow. after lunch."

you smirk. "thought so."

x

x

x

the cocktail of emotions that jimin experiences when he sees you waving at him from the other end of the library is too much for his brain. relief, because he missed you. panic, because why did he feel like he had something to be defensive about? and then distaste because, was that one of jungkook's ratty shirts?

"hey," he smiles when you finally reach him, as if you'd just come back from the bathroom.

"don't hey me!" you shrug your coat off hurriedly, sweating from having to jog all this way. jimin watches you brace your hands on your hips, eyes trained onto him like he's at a police line up or something. "go on. start."

"start what?"

"giving me your bullshit excuses," you sit on the table he's working at, kicking your feet up on a chair while you regard him. you rest your chin in your palm while you wait, waving your hand dismissively. "about how you've busy with finals and the gym and fending off the plethora of girls who are constantly after you. the sooner you finish we can talk about the real problem."

"and what's the real problem then?" jimin challenges, spreading his legs while he leans back in his chair to stare back at you. he cocks his jaw, not exactly in the best of moods after his argument with taehyung. the last thing he was ready for was someone else giving him shit in the same day.

jimin isn't prepared for the way your eyes soften, the way you inch closer to him and twirl your finger over the back of his hand in a peace offering. you weren't like him or taehyung; you didn't yell. didn't raise your voice or spit swears or guilt trip. maybe it was your messy past, your mild mannered personality or simply your ability to read him so easily. you knew exactly how to break down his wall of defence, knew exactly what to do and what to say and how to say it. which is why you let out a short sigh before starting. "i know this is about jungkook."

jimin's tongue pokes in his cheek. firstly because he realised how stupid he and taehyung were for assuming you didn't have shit figured out before they did, and secondly because why did the exact same topic of conversation evoke such a different response when it came from you instead of taehyung? because now all jimin can do is grind his teeth nervously, eyes flicking about the room while he jiggles his legs. there was no hiding from you. "what are you talking about? that's..."

"come on jiminie," you tug at his pinky finger. you always made fun of that one for being the chubbiest. jimin doesn't know why but his heart melts. "you haven't exactly been subtle. you warned me about jungkook and i didn't listen and i get how that must feel for you. for someone who's done as much for me as you have."

jimin shrugs nonchalantly but his chest is tight, throat dry. "it's your life, ___. i'm fine with it, seriously."

this time you're the one to keep quiet for a second. you wish you could transfer your emotions into him so he'd understand the feeling you get whenever you look at him, wish you were articulate enough to describe the way you felt about jimin but you doubted that was even possible. all you can do is gnaw your lip, your pretty face staring at him with the light of a thousand stars in your eyes. jimin could get lost like this, in you. "you know no one could ever replace you, right? hoseok, jungkook, even taehyung...no guy could ever be what you are to me."

you're being a dick and you know it, tae’s words echo in his head, which is what causes jimin’s resolve to finally crack. he could never stay mad at you. maybe if it was some other girl, some other friend of his - but not you. never you.

which is why he gives in and grabs you by the legs, tugging you onto his knees to make you squeak. jimin's crooked front tooth revels itself when he smiles at you, eyes curving into the sweet crescents that you know and love. you'd be lying if you weren't a little giddy at his open affection like this in public, the way he holds the back of your hips so you don't slip off his legs. "that's good to know, because my mum is still convinced we're gonna get married some day. like a harry met sally situation."

you relax against him, glad to have your jimin back. "but we never hated each other!"

"i dunno, i feel pretty strongly about this shirt you're wearing," jimin sneers, picking at it with the end of his fingers in disgust. "what happened? jungkook get ramen juice on your top and gave you this bed sheet instead?"

"i wish it was ramen juice," you hang your head. "you have no idea how much i wish it was ramen juice."

[district7]

A Mockingjay Joniss AU - pt. 1: i’ve made up my mind (i’m never going back)

11.11.19 

A Mockingjay Joniss AU - pt. 1: i’ve made up my mind (i’m never going back) 

A Mockingjay AU WIP where Katniss reevaluates whether her best future is a path she had never considered. After Johanna fails the Block, it occurs to Katniss that her future is not pre-destined, that she’s done enough, and that she doesn’t owe any one, or any cause, a suicide mission. 

A/N: There are no promises of quality assurance. Also, I make no promises about updates. (If I add that sort of pressure on myself about it, I’ll end up loathe to work on it.) This will likely hold a lot of things in common with other Mockingjay Joniss AUs, namely a return to District 7 instead of District 12, and an emphasis on the pair helping each other recover set against a backdrop of quasi-homesteading. I make zero assertions POV and tense will stay consistent across updates. This is an adventure in pantsting with a general goal in mind, rather than something I’m pre-plotting.

Feel free to send me constructive witticisms, requests, asks, comments, trolling, whatever.

_______________________

District 13 - Medical

Johanna’s limbs twitched, body emitting a mix of grunts and whimpers. Katniss guessed she was fighting in her sleep.

Or maybe running. The morphling line in her IV was a rifle with vicious recoil. Awake, it tricked you into believing pain was farther away and anxiety quieter than they actually were. Helpful. Maybe. Asleep, it made it harder to wake from the nightmares.

“Jo...” 

Katniss nudged her shoulder with a knuckle, leaning forward out of her visitor’s chair only far enough to breach the edge of Johanna’s medical bed. Best to keep out of the way of swinging arms, if Johanna woke up fighting. “Johanna, wake up.”

In response, Johanna’s grunts and twitches ratcheted in intensity. 

Katniss guessed at what she was dreaming. Maybe fighting mutts while they tried to pull her under water. What kind of mutts might the Capitol design for that? Giant fish with fiery eyes, men’s arms, and children’s hands?  Eels with multiple tails which encapsulate you while the monsters drag you deeper into the pressing blackness, down until you finally have no choice but to gasp in water and drown yourself?

The Capitol and its mutts. 

Katniss tried again to wake Johanna, but she only rolled in her hospital bed, tangling herself and her IV line in her bleached, too-white sheets while letting out a sleep-garbled plea.

Maybe not Capitol mutts, Katniss thought. This happened in The Block, the Rebellion’s own customizable mini-Arena. So, Rebellion mutts. Coin and her well-oiled machine could squeeze and fracture a person every bit as well as Snow and the Games could a Tribute. Less horrific and premeditated, definitely. Better justified, absolutely. Without the evil intent, hopefully.  But they could still do it, all the same.

What was it Peeta had said in that interview? 

Once you’re in the arena, the rest of the world becomes very distant. All the people and things you loved or cared about almost cease to exist. As bad as it makes you feel, you’re going to have to do some killing, because in the arena, you only get one wish. And it’s very costly. It costs a lot more than your life. To murder innocent people? It costs everything you are. So you hold on to your wish.

His wish had been for Katniss to live. Katniss’ had been for him to. And here they were. Everyone, except for Cinna, who she’d gone into the Quarter Quell caring about was somehow, miraculously, still alive. Prim. Her mother. Gale. Haymitch. Effie. Peeta might still be mentally disordered, but at least with her staying away, he was progressing well enough to decorate a wedding cake. 

A wedding cake. That image made Katniss grunt. Finnick and Annie.

It wasn’t just those she cared about before the Quarter Quell who were still alive, it was also those she newly cared about. Those two. Beetee.

Johanna.

Johanna, for whom Katniss had experienced the impulse to volunteer as roommate. The one she’d sidled up to as a training partner. The one whose nightmares and traumas she’d been ready-fit acquaintances with. And also the one whose crass, doesn’t-give-a-fuck facade had gone from infuriating Katniss, when they’d first met, to actually making her laugh.

She sat on the edge of the bed and made one last, forceful attempt to stir Johanna, managing to cajole her onto her back and into wakefulness enough that she blinked with hazy recognition.

“Shit. Can’t a girl sleep without being molested?” Johanna was mumbling, voice rough.

“You were having a nightmare.”

“I can see your face, so clearly I must still be having it.”

“Funny.”

Johanna’s lids drifted shut.

“Have to be good for at least something, brainless, or else these wonderful District Thirteen people might decide it’s not worth the cost-benefit to feed me.”

“You’re good at lot of things,” Katniss joked. “Or at least that’s what you’re always going on to everyone about.”

Still with eyes closed, Johanna’s face pulled a smirk. “And wouldn’t you be lucky to experience every last one of those things, Everdeen.”

Katniss snorted and rolled her eyes. “You’re incredible.”

“Most wait ‘till after to tell me that.”

“You know what I meant,” Katniss corrected, refusing to fall prey to the attempt at embarrassing her. She started untangling the sheet from around the IV as something else to focus on.

Johanna peeked open one eye to watch, then wiggled the rest of her arm free from the bedding as soon as Katniss was done, purposefully floundering it through the air until she thwacked her palm against Katniss’ cheek. She pushed her face away with token force, punctuated by a complaining groan.

“Go a-way. Your sickening goodness makes my ass itch. How’s a mentally disordered person supposed to sleep?"

Katniss managed to huff like she was offended, but when Johanna’s hand didn’t move away from her face, she pulled it down to her lap and held onto it, frowning.

“They’re re-classifying you as that again?”

Johanna’s hand twitched in Katniss’.

“What? No. It’s nothing.”

“Johanna...”

“I’m fine, leave it.”  She yanked her hand free. “Aren’t you supposed to be prepping for an assassination mission right now anyway? Why are you here?”

Katniss frowned again at the abruptly acerbic tone, but she’d built up some resistance to it over time, and was tired herself, so she chose not walk into the trap. She was about to lay her own, anyway, after a fashion.

“You mean the suicide mission?” Her voice was a whisper, and she said it only after looking away from Johanna and picking her cuticles for a few long moments.

“What?” Johanna shimmied up into a sitting position, eyes wide and body instantly tense. “What are you talking about?”

Boggs’ words from a group meeting with Coin weeks before had been revolving through Katniss’ mind for the previous twenty-four hours.

Even if we’re careful, we can’t guarantee her safety. She’ll be a target for every-

He hadn’t gotten to finish, because Katniss herself had interrupted him. But she could definitely fill in the blank herself.

“Think about, Johanna. Because since the Block, I’ve certainly been thinking about it. At best, it’s a mission doomed to fail. At worst, it’s a death sentence. I think I’ve slept less than you in the last forty-eight hours.”

“You promised.” Johanna and pulled her arms tightly around her shoulders to make herself smaller. Triggered into a minor episode, she shook her head non-stop, as if doing so could change the reality of what Katniss had said. “You promised you’d kill him for me. I need him to be dead!”

Katniss sighed loudly and stared up at ceiling, fighting her own frustration as well as Johanna’s. Fighting to keep her voice calm.

“I know. I know I did, Johanna. And he will.“ She put a hand on Johanna’s knee to calm her, only to have Johanna swipe it away. But she went on. “We’ve breached the Capitol. We have forces there. Everyone wants Snow’s head. The Rebellion has come too far to stop, and Coin is going to make sure he ends up dead one way or another. But think about it. I’m not a trained assassin, I’m barely a solider. I don’t have an anonymous face. What chance do I really have? I’m a girl with a rifle and a bow. In the middle of a city decked out with Gamemakers’ traps, thousands of peacekeeper who know my face, and tens of thousands of Capitol citizens ready to raise an alert.” She gave Johanna a grim smile. “Those odds are way higher against than we faced in all of our games combined. And my target? One man on the far side of a war zone, almost certainly sealed away in a well-guarded bomb shelter.”

Katniss gave a weak shrug. “Boggs is right. He didn’t call it a suicide mission out loud, but he knows it is. I’ve been seeing it in his eyes, the hoping that I'd see it for myself.”

“Fuck,” Johanna hissed. “I’m so fucking tired of all this SHIT!”

The sudden screaming brought in the medical staff. Johanna shouted wild curses at them, alarming them all the more, but Katniss eventually talked them into leaving. It took long minutes, but Johanna’s shaking slowly evolved to despondent rocking. And then her chin sank to her chest, followed a moment later by a sniff, and then her dragging an arm across her face to wipe at it. Finally, she gripped her skull and let herself fall back flat onto the bed.

“Jo, I don’t know what kind of a life you want to have when this is over, but I’ve made up my mind. I’m not going back. I’ve done enough. We’ve both done enough. We don’t owe anyone. It’s not selfish: We’ve reached the point where we’re no longer necessary. Coin and the other District Leaders can duke it out; it doesn’t need to be Mockingay business. The only thing I want is to live a quiet life where I know Prim is safe and I can shrink out from under the spotlight. That’s what started this for me. That’s the promise I need to keep. The one I made to her on Reaping Day. That I’d live and come back to her.” She added, “You can’t tell me that at least part of you isn’t interested.”

There was more sniffling, and more face wiping. And a few ragged breaths before there was an exhausted response.

“Do you really believe that’s possible?”

“I think Coin will give it to us. She needs popular Victors around after the Capitol falls like a bear needs bees stinging at its nose when it wants honey. At this stage, my quiet exit might be as tempting for her as it is for me. And face it, from her perspective- If I’m right- if I do go, at best my death makes a good propo, except that it comes at the cost of the Capitol claiming credit for killing me. But if I actually succeeded, she risks me having an even bigger voice in Panem’s future. Considering how we’ve butted heads already, that’s not something she’s likely to want. And that puts not just me, but everyone I care about right back in danger.” Katniss had risked sneaking that train of thought into a whispered conversation with Boggs over that morning’s breakfast.

The look he’d given her had been answer enough.

“For once, I’d like the chance to choose my own fate instead of being manipulated into one.”

Johanna continued to stare up at the ceiling.

“You’re serious about this.”

“I have the bone-chilling feeling I need to be.”

“And so what,” Johanna struggled for the energy to push herself up on her elbows, glaring, “this is you asking my blessing to beg Coin to send you, your family, and lover boy back to Twelve so you can have a guilt-free happily ever after?”

Katniss gave herself time to cycle through a slow breath. Being about to say it aloud made it feel more like killing someone than letting them go. But Johanna was impatient.

“I’m sick of this visit, Katniss. Just say whatever it is and get it over with.”

“Fine.” Katniss sucked in a breath. “Peeta’s a long way from being able to go anywhere without a counselor. Maybe things could be different. In the future, after time passes and he’s better and I don’t feel constantly conflicted over what I should be feeling and how much of that is me over what people keep telling me I feel. And-”

“There goes your self-righteous we-really-love-each-other act, princess.”

“Shut up, Johanna! It’s complicated and you know it. And like I said, maybe things could be different. None of us knows that, though. But what I do know is that neither he or I need that sort of pressure right now, and right now is when I need to make a decision for the people who are still within my reach.”

Johanna relented, begrudgingly.

“If you go back to Twelve, you realize he’ll just end up back there at some point. If you go home, he follows. He won’t be able to help it.”

Katniss hesitated, but then nodded sadly. “I know.”

“Is that what you want?”

Katniss didn’t respond. Instead, after some quiet, she reached over to the nightstand for Johanna’s pine bundle, laying it on the bed. Her fingers lingered on it briefly before withdrawing.

“This was on the floor when I came in. Decided you didn’t like it after all?”

“Probably fell out while I was sleeping.” Johanna picked it up and took a sniff, then kept it at her nose to breathe the scent.

“Had you wanted to go back to Seven when this was all done?”

“I...” Johanna’s shoulders slowly sagged. “I don’t know,” she said simply, expression carefully neutral. “I don’t have anything there. Haven’t for a long time. And I haven’t even been able to picture a world that’s that normal enough to even try thinking about it.”

“Well, do. At this point, the three us of would rather go to Seven with you than back to Twelve.” Johanna narrowed her eyes, surprised. Perhaps suspicious. It didn’t phase Katniss. “Haymitch and Finnick have both agreed to help me make the argument to Coin for us.” And when Johanna only continued to study Katniss, without voicing an objection, Katniss hazarded some levity, "And anyway, you’re practically required to say yes: Prim insists she wants to adopt you into the family.”

“I’m not a fucking pet,” Johanna responded, eventually, but without real heat.

“Whatever you say, lumber-woman.” Katniss chuckled at the dirty face Johanna made at that, before standing to leave. “I think we both know Prim's pretty good at getting what she wants.”

“It should be illegal to be that fucking adorable.”

“Yeah,” Katniss agreed, to be polite. “Okay, well, I’m going to go talk to Haymitch. You aren’t laying a string of profanity down on me, so I’m going to run with it.”

Johanna pulled her knees to her chest, making herself small again.

“What is it?”

Johanna shook her head.

“Come on, Johanna.”

“I... don’t want to get dragged there and then dumped, if you guys don’t like it.” A tear raced down her cheek, then another, which Johanna cursed even as she wiped them away. “I... Fuck, I can’t believe I’m saying this. If you tell anyone, especially that stupid head doctor, that I'm saying this, I’ll rip your spine out.”  The tears were still coming. “But I don’t think I can handle having people and then losing them again.”

Again. The weight of that word settled on Katniss’ shoulders.

She struggled with how to respond, in the end climbing onto the bed and letting Johanna curl into her side.