#so he's just stuck with zero ultra

[chaosxcrushed]

REALLY craving a monster now after this doodle

[cinnamonglrls]

all the pills that you take to keep me at arms length don't work [rr.]

pairing: roman reigns x fem!reader.

warnings: asshole roman. toxic work relationship. injury. angst. sunshine jey.

summary: an accident that occurs backstage seems to be the straw that breaks the camel’s back for Isabel. 

wc: 2.6k.

an: the idea for this story literally made me create this account i kid u not. happy reading & leave some comments if u liked it. ♡🦋💗💞

—————————

MONDAY NIGHT RAW.

It was the reverberation of your shrill cry once your body weight leveled out on your ankle that spared you his once-over.

He’s been a complete dick to you since he’s met you to say the least, and even more so since creative pitched the concept between you two. But this? 

This is absolutely unacceptable.

Just five month ago in Seattle, you were apart of a promo segment where Roman, Cody, and his entourage get into a heated debacle. Roman was supposed to clear the premise and you were supposed to slide out the bottom ring at the first sign of trouble, but instead you remained in the ring— stuck in a corner due to missed timing. Gradually you found yourself in the center with your back facing his and then simultaneously you two turned to faced one another, chests heaving at the adrenaline of destruction and the electrifying energy zapping throughout the arena. 

To the camera, you were a deer caught in headlights. A damsel in distress, the seemingly next prey of wrestling entertainment’s most notorious apex predator. 

In reality, you were a deer caught in headlights. An amateur who’s incident of pure human error just so happened to unfurl on live television and in front of wrestling veterans.

However, to your luck, the twenty-two second clipped segment went ultra-viral and not for the reasons you feared it would. 

It was the smoldering smoke and fire between you two the clip unveiled that sent it globetrotting. A furrowed-brow herculean Roman, wet hair curtaining the frame of his face as he’s stopped dead in his track of demolition because of the presence of a sultry femme fatale a mere handful of inches before him.

Roman — like a seasoned professional — ended up slowly backing away before exiting the ring without removing his eyes from yours with The Wiseman hot on his tail, as if this was the exact way the segment was supposed to conclude. But this would kickstart the beginning of an extremely hostile and deeply uncomfortable work relationship between you and him.

He’d made it no secret that he was no fan of yours.

He was cold in every sense of the word. He’d spend majority of his free time backstage and in the lounges with your co-workers, chatting it up and cracking jokes. It was merely the addition of your presence in any room that would sour his demeanor. At first this was very unsettling for you especially due to your deep unrealistic desire to be liked by every human you cross paths with, but eventually Becky clued you in to the rumors that creative had pitched him an idea about a potential romance between you two after keeping a close eye on the brewing demand and spiked viewership. Apparently, out of respect for his wife, when he was negotiating his contract he’d requested a clause stating that he would be excluded from any future romantic narratives.

Still, stomachs grumbled for the story and viewership was gradually skyrocketing as a result of even crumbs of you two in the same frame. Roman’s wishes be dammed, according to management.

So then it began. Five months of a meticulous slow-burn. Five months of animosity. Five months of him disregarding your entire existence if there wasn’t a cameraman within a ten-foot radius. Five months of zero rehearsals despite your persistent request to prevent another blunder like that night in Seattle. Five months of snide remarks and passive aggressive comments beneath his breath. Throughout it all you made sure to hold all your grievances close to your chest and take it all to the chin, as its simply your nature to do so. Everyone knew you as the roster’s sweetheart, too reserved to really hold your ground. It was the what made those around you want to protect you so adamantly. 

Ultimately you made peace with the state of your turbulent relationship with your coworker.

But there is nothing quite peaceful about the agonizing white-hot sensation shooting up the tendons in your right calf right now.

You messily crumble to your feet, your hands immediately cupping the compromised heel as your shrill cry perks his ear, stopping Roman dead in his tracks. 

Tonight’s segment was supposed to be swift and hurried, you were supposed to be approached by Cody and a couple women backstage. The gist of the idea was Cody would sic the women on you as he’d know Roman was quite fond of you and they’d do some damage. Roman would then soar to your rescue, brawl with Cody and scare them off and it would end with him carrying you away bridal-style as one of the women would have fucked your leg up pretty badly. 

Tossing you off of him the millisecond the camera stopped rolling was never apart of the script.

Your voice is a wail yet still a burning red-hot flame, “what the fuck is wrong with you!” You can tell both by the shocked expression written on his face and the hesitant step forward he just took that he doesn’t exactly know what to do at the moment and that he didn’t intend on causing you any harm, but that doesn’t quell the hell you’re about to raise.

You’ve had it up to your wits end.

He tries to say something that you can’t quite hear because the radiating pain shooting from your ankle is too distracting to do anything but heave and whimper as your hands hover over your ankle as if doing so will prevent any further damage. Roman tries to lower and sit on his haunches, looking immensely out of his element as this is the most concerned he’s ever been about you since meeting you, “hold o-,”

Gathering the courage to apply your body weight on your other foot as you stand, you immediately scurry to your feet, inhaling a tight gust of air and squeezing your eyes shut. Desperate to distance yourself away from the catalyst of this debilitating pain. Your thunderous voice is the flame to curious moths, attracting stray eyes backstage, “get away from me you piece of shit!” your hand clutches onto a black equipment box for dear life to support your frame in staying upright despite the fact that you’re in no condition to do so at the moment.

You can see Naomi and the twins quickly approaching with concerned expressions at the commotion past Roman’s shoulders as he too begins to stand from his lowered stance. But you don’t allow that to deter your fury-driven tunnel vision, “why is it that you think you’re the first married man who’s had a romance angle? are you and your wife that insecure that a fictitious tale for television would shake the foundation of your weak marriage?”

You can hear a few distant gasps as Naomi and Becky rush to your side once they see the state of your hunched stature and how your hand keeps gravitating back towards your sorry ankle, only half-way overlooking the appalling confrontational tone of your voice as it’s the polar opposite of the timid person they’ve always known you to be. They place each of your arms around the necks and grab your hip, “cmon. Cmon. Medical’s right there on the left Beck.”

His face hardens, his jaw still locked. 

“You just sprained my fucking ankle. Answer me!”

“Aye, aye, aye. What’s going on?” Jey stands between you two, placing his palm to Roman’s chest to deescalate the situation. When Becky and Naomi turn you to help you to medic, you mumble something inaudible beneath your breath and wince as everyone who tuned in due to the commotion from wrestlers to venue staff watch you limp away.

Jey turns around to catch the tail end of a brooding Roman flexing his right hand before walking the opposite way.

—————————

Chest heaving and lungs aflame, both of your hands cup your kneecaps when your torso bends forward as you slow down to catch your breath, “shit.”

“You sit on your ass for a couple weeks and lose two decades off your knees? Up.” Becky stalks up to you, kissing her teeth when you breathlessly shake your head and sink your back into the nearest corner of the ring. Since your debut, you can’t count on both hands how many times Becky has consistently either shown up for you and or has taken the fall for you— whether that’s been through showing you the ropes when you were just a new hire or filling the holes during ambiguous social interactions with others backstage. She’s a constant through and through.

You run your tongue over your bottom lip as you glance over your shoulder and scan the empty arena hours before showtime, “you said you’d take it easy on me.”

“I am,” she alters her stance in a fashion that commands your compliance and you sigh out of your nostrils in defeat before pulling yourself out of the corner, bending at your knee and meeting her posture in the middle of the ring. You two roughen each other up for another solid twenty-five minutes before you decide to take another brisk break to take some pressure off your recovering ankle for preventative purposes.

“Izzy motherfuckin’ Osbourne! Say it ain’t so.” 

In typical Jey fashion, you hear him before you see him. He’s halfway down the ramp when you and B turn your heads and his direction makes you believe he came from the side stage. The human manifestation of sunlight, you have no choice but to cheese at him, “there she is. That’s what we like to see.” You slide out of the bottom ring and he meets you at the bottom of the ramp with open arms that you just sink into, your arms wrapped around his back. He rocks you two back and forth so sweetly it’s reminiscent of a warm older brother.

You pluck the end of his cropped top when he releases you from his bear hug, “I thought I told you to stay out of my closet.” 

His eyes widen, his index finger pointing at you as he looks at B past your shoulder, “she got jokes!” His attention gravitates back to you and specifically your heel— his tone less comedic than the second before, “how she doing?” You nod and spend a minute catching him up on your progress and recovery. He crosses his arms and listens attentively when you detail what your doctors told you and he double checks your confidence about your match later tonight. 

—————————

A month and a half.

The fact that it’s been a month and a half since you’ve been overwhelmed by the deafening roar of the crowd is all that you’re mulling about as you walk past the ramp and crossfade backstage after your first match back since your injury, your fingers mindlessly playing with your wristband. 

“Isabel.”

You toss a quick glance over your shoulder at the mention of your name, never once stopping your stroll. 

You almost want to laugh at the audacity once you see Roman using his back to push himself off the wall near the curtains and if you didn’t know any better you might even say he were waiting for you. You turn around and continue walking, “uh oh. What’s next? My wrist?”

“Can we speak?” his tone is so authoritative that even his questions sound like statements.

“We’re speaking.”

The close proximity of his voice clues you in to the fact that he’s definitely following you and as agitated as you are, last month’s confrontation diffused almost everything you were internalizing since that first night in Seattle. You don’t have anything left to say to him. Roman sighs at your stubbornness when you push the door of your locker room open as you finally reach it, “please.” 

Begrudgingly, you enter the dressing room— blind to the way his vigilant eyes swiftly scan the hallway clear of wandering eyes before he follows after you.

He’d never admit it out loud but he’d recently formed a nasty habit of bitting his fingernails raw in an unhealthy attempt to relieve tension he doesn't seem to want to pinpoint the source of. In fact, he’s formed a scroll of destructive habits here recently if the bags beneath his lower lash line are any indication. He hovers near the arm of your black velveteen sofa when you gravitate to your vanity and push your hair behind your ears, briskly removing the backs of your earrings. 

“You got a haircut.”

Your fleeting eyes meet his in the reflection of your vanity mirror like a lock and key, your hands busy at your ears. Silent at his observation.

“You didn’t answer my message.”

You hum in acknowledgement. You didn’t. Why would you? You didn’t have anything left to say to him and everything you had bottled up prior, you unloaded like a sniper the second you landed on your ankle wrong due to his negligence. You’ve never been a fan of apologies anyway. What’s the point when the damage is already done? 

“I know.”

“Why?”

You don’t answer.

“I didn’t mean to do that. You know that.”

“Do I?”

“Isabel.”

His tone is different; nearly pleading. You don’t answer.

He sighs out from his nose and you watch him lower himself to sit on the couch, his dark fitted-cargos enveloped burly thighs spread and his elbows settled on his knees. He’s spent longer than he would ever like imagining how this conversation was going to pan out when you’d return. The depth of his regret is far greater than his ability to ever express it, “I’m trying here.”

Your stomach contracts at the intensity of his gaze that you can just feel so you keep your lips sealed. Your don’t know if its because you don’t know what to do with yourself or because you want to see him suffer a little longer. Or both. 

“Why’d you cut your hair,” he tries again, his voice softer.

“Why’s it matter?”

He shrugs, “I liked it.”

“Then thank god I cut it.”

Roman chuckles, his index finger and thumb glides across his chiseled beard.

He can see you struggle to stifle a smile at your corny joke in the reflection of the mirror as you roll your wristband off your forearm.

“… Twins won’t shut up about you.”

This compels you to turn around, your arms crossed on your chest. The less-than-impressed look on your face makes him shrug obliviously, “I don’t know how to act. My bad. This is weird. I’m sorry. Man. I mean it. Even if it wasn’t my intention, you didn’t deserve that shit. That made me feel like shit for a long time. Tried to reach you after but you weren’t receptive and I get it but… you gotta know. As coworkers in an organization this hazardous, our trust and faith in one another is critical. That’s the bottom line and I fucked that up. I did.” He looks at his phone when it rings it and mindlessly silences it.

You take a deep breath at his vocalized stream of consciousness, a little startled at his honorable regard as the only regard he’s ever reserved for you before the incident were short sentences and cold withdrawn interactions. Your stomach tightens at his first genuine acknowledgement and accountability for his transgressions. You look at the floor as your fingertips flex against your arms, too intimidated to meet his eyes again for reasons unbeknownst to you.

“Thank you.”

—————————

pt 1 <3. ♡

[kcalsforhim]

˖⋆࿐໋ sunday 8th of december

⋆˙⟡

today i woke up nice and comfortable in my bed,, i had been tossing and turning all night long kinda sleeping weirdly... so when i woke up this morning i decided to go downstairs and have breakfast.. psst.. i didnt have the best food day, but my weekends are always my worst food days so im not even going to hate myself anymore atp

breakfast : 4 chevape, a dot of mustard, a small babybowl of pumpkin soup, and 1 lotus cookie.

cals : 177

this time i had my breakfast actually warm.. the soup was nice and rich and creamy, it had just the right flavours and i like this way more than i did the soup out of the pack i had last month during soup diet week (which failed LMFAO). happy with my accomplishment of one lotus.. then my 4 chevape was good, there were only 4 left which meant i really couldnt overfill my plate either way

then i went back upstairs after i had this, it was good and it actually left me feeling ok. when i got myself ready to go to work i brought the lunch my mom packed with me.

lunch : a serving of pumpkin soup , chicken in one container, and in the other container some chicken and pasta. both of these portions were also satisfyingly small

cals : 321

the soup was lovely as i had described earlier, the chicken in the container came out of a pot of like.. chorba my parents were having today that i will not eat even if my life depended on it lmfaoooo. the chicken was okay, it was the only thing that was warm hahaha

then the pasta and chicken in the second container were better, i liked that it was slightly spicy ? i didnt have those.. green circle vegetables.. i dont like the texture of that thing so i threw it away

drinks : monster zero sugar ultra rosa, hot chocolate, but i only let the machine dispense 20% of the milk

cals : 52

mark gave me that monster, i chose the hot chocolate of my own accord... i watched as the milk from our coffee machine pooled down near the drain... i actually gave mark a hot chocolate but with the milk since he doesnt care, and there was a very visible difference.. what i drank was essentially water and chocolate powder, with basically a splash of milk.

work was going fine until one person just... idk threw me off and ruined my entire day ? basically i was ready to crash out at annnny second. the more the minutes ticked by, the more stressed and overwhelmed i was getting. i was actually reflecting how ive been thinking of quitting my job for a whiiile now, but since ill be going to a 40hrs a week internship, i need my weekend rest before i explode. so after my shift ended i wrote my manager a note and stuck it on the POS screen

"sorry i forgot to count the flowers... also, ill be dropping by tommorow, ill only have 5 minutes of your time" ... and well yeah tommorow im putting in my 2 weeks notice. or however.. whatvever. im quitting my job lol. went home after this crying LMFAO im so stressed

dinner : 1 tortilla thing, its very thin, a small layer of cream cheese, ketchup, 2 salami slices, that in a tosti toaster thing. then 1 apple, and some honey... idk what the chunks are probably some kind of nuts...

cals : 334

the original plan was to come home and eat 6 packs of kinder bueno making 12 kinder bueno's in total.. however i decided to ask my mom to make me something instead. she was very considerate of how i eat and my portioning, and we came up with something healthy and nourishing that would make me feel better rather than me being an idiot and binging on lots and lots of chocolate.. i did infact feel better and i know this was not needed, i couldve gone to bed, but this happens all the time after work and i just need to accept that my job like, actually stresses me out after close to the point where it makes me cry and makes me want to binge. the portion is kind of big but.. it couldve been worse. idk. tommorow im omad'ing

total steps : 6.3 k total cals : 884

i found this song while posting on my insta about my oc's and i needed a song to go with it... this is so cute !!! and so catchy, i love it ~

⋆˙⟡

[cowboybrunch]

I have been combing through your archive for any botrd content, so I beg you: Please, please please gimme a infodump on botrd🥺🥺

Your favourite snippets, anything you deleted but still liked, fun facts, anything really 🙏🙏 I will be grateful for any crumbs you provide

leah hi!!! waking up to ur notifications made me happy dance <3 <3 :-)

*rubs hands together* oh you have NO IDEA what you just unlocked

let's start with some fun facts:

when I first started writing BOTRD, it was entirely in Rosalie's pov and it was intended to be a straightforward romance (i refer to this as draft zero). i got about 80% of the way in and then realized 1) it's not really romantic at all and girlie needs to get out of this situation and 2) there was another story hidden in Theodore's pov that i wanted to explore

the first completed draft is sitting at 95,267 words and is organized into acts and scenes, not chapters. here are the names of the first scenes from each act (only used for outlining purposes):

act 1: "sunrise" act 2A: "old flame" act 2B: "ten seconds" act 3: "mouse thunder storm"

after finishing the first draft, i jumped straight into writing the prequel, Judas Wept. and im so glad i did! it really influenced how i'm approaching future drafts (and it gave us Elias! i love Elias!)

my favorite character to write dialogue for is Emily. my favorite character to write period is Marcella

some rapid fire lore!

at the beginning of botrd, Theodore has consumed 2 souls: the soul of the person that killed him, and Andrew's. at the end, he's got around 6,000 (most from Mortae voluntarily sacrificing themselves to make him OP)

Marcella only targets men due to her past trauma and a desire to protect young women. she thinks it's funny when they beg. she has no qualms with murder or lawlessness. if she had Theodore's abilities, we wouldn't have a story. she would've dealt with this mess a century ago

Rosalie is very subdued and passive in act 1. she thinks more than she speaks or acts in her first few POV chapters. stuck with one foot in the past kinda thing. once she starts processing her grief, she becomes more of an active participant (which is not necessarily a good thing! but! she's healing!)

Azmaveth has a whole secret backstory (Uriel, too! i dont know if we ever unlock that one on page) but basically: he lost a child, so now he's ultra protective of his wards (Theodore and Marcella) BUT he has to balance that with his loyalty towards Morrigan so she doesn't come by and just slaughter all of them

i affectionately refer to Rosalie's friends as "the humans" and they're a bunch of goobs. Mike is a golden retriever. James is a chihuahua. Henry is a dachshund. Emily isn't a dog, she's a mountain lion

and now, a favorite snippet:

(context: Theodore is at dinner with Rosalie's friends. they're having a potluck!)

I start silently amending my statements without her having to ask. I lived in California for a few years and recently moved back. Truth. I work at my foster father’s restaurant. Lie. I don’t follow any sports, but baseball is my favorite. Truth. She coughs to hide her chuckle, but I don’t think anyone is fooled. Baseball? It’s the great American pastime, is it not? Aren’t you French? Her eyes dance with laughter. I’ll give her all of my secrets if she just keeps looking at me like that.

something i deleted!

"little life" (Rosalie POV):

I work. I eat. I sleep. I go to family dinners once a week and participate in conversations and drinking games and try my best to quell the worry in their eyes. It’s easy, or it should be. I don’t tell them about Theodore, and they don’t ask. Not directly anyway, but I see the questions in Emily’s eyes when she catches me twisting my wrist in the lamplight, studying smaller scars that linger above the others, the promise I’d made, the debt owed. I try not to think about it and succeed, mostly.

and i'll wrap up with a picrew dump!

Rosalie / Emily / Andrew

Theodore / Marcella / Azmaveth

Gemma / Elias

this story has been my brain worm for two years and will probably pester me for two thousand more so thank you so much for asking about it!! <3

[harveybwabbit92]

[Fuma, Titas, Shio, Nieves Z and Geed are hanging out together when they find Akari’s Slugger axe wedged in a stone pillar, thinking she’s forgotten it Fuma decides to return it to her.]

Fuma: I’m sure Akari is freaking out about her...missing.... (pulls the handle.) Axe! rgh...*Keeps pulling* It’s stuck!

Geed: let me try! *Geed pulls at the axe and fails miserably*

Shio: Two’s better than one, right?

Nieve: Right.

*Shio and Nieve tried together...nothing....*

Titas and Beta Smash Z: Let’s go!

{They managed to move the axe a little bit, even their combined effort failed, then Fuma got the idea that they all do it together, they all grabbed the Axe’s handle and pulled... And for brief second it seemed like it was working, until they realized the axe wasn’t moving they were all slipping! the teens all fell back into a pile as Taiga arrives and looks down at his friends oddly.]

Taiga: What are you guys doing?

Titas, pointing at the rock: We found your cousin’s axe wedged into that pillar there!

Fuma: And we were trying to get it out...

Shio: But it’s either wedged in there good, or weighs a bejillion tons!

{Taiga sees Akari’s axe wedge into the stone pillar like they said, Taiga examines it for a moment before he reluctantly grabs the handle and gives it small tug, the axe comes loose with barely any effort, Taiga looks at them all baffled.]

Nieve: What?

Geed: How did you do that?

Taiga: Whaddya mean? I just picked it up!

Fuma: But when we tried to pick it up it -Woah!-

*Fuma went to take the Axe from Taiga and was suddenly was pulled to the ground by the shear weight of it.*

Shio: Taiga pick up the Slugger Axe...

Taiga, again picks the axe up like it weighs nothing: Seriously is this a prank? cos it’s not funny.

Shio:...Huh, neat.

Z: What is?

Shio: I think I figured out why Taiga can lift the axe, but we can’t. but just to be sure...*looks around and spots someone* Hey, master Regulos? Taro? can you help us?

Regulos, coming up to them: Yes?

Taro: what is it?

Shio: Master Regulos, can you hold my friend’s axe for a moment?

Regulos, as Taiga hands him the axe: I don’t see why no-Ack! *gets pulled down by the sudden weight* What the??? *Tries to lift the axe but fails* 

Shio: Okay...Master Taro?

[Taro reluctantly grabs the axe and picks it up with no effort at all]

Regulos, stares in disbelief: What?

Taro, twirls the axe around: *Hums*

Shio: thought so...

Geed: C’mon tell us!

Shio: I think only people who are biologically related to Akari can lift the axe...

Taiga: Like how the AI in Reiya’s lab back on earth would only activate with your blood sample?

Shio: Right.

Titas: So, Besides Taiga and Taro both Zero and Ultraseven can lift it too?

Shio: Well yeah, They’re Akari’s brother and father all. 

(Taiga notices the mischievous glint in his father’s eye)

Taiga : Dad? Are you going to use Akari’s axe to play a prank?

Taro: What??? No!.....

Taiga:....

Taro, shifty eyes:  I’m just going to return this to Seven’s daughter now...*Flies away*

Taiga: He’s totally going to use the axe to “test the strength” on the other ultra-brothers...

{The others nod in agreement.)

[collectorcookie]

I finished reading the graduation event tl the other day and i'm just. I don't know...sad?

Like, trickstar feels like they got zero developement as a unit. Which i feel like it's the point. Mao is still the guy who's runing all sorts of errands, makoto is still the dude in the background viewing things from a distant perspective, hokuto and subaru are still constantly at each others throats, hokuto is still the ultra-stubborn revolutionary, and subaru is still the same sparkly boy who wants to shine and make people happy.

And i honestly deeply love all of them for all of this but it's clear that they're stuck in the past. That what they're doing is no longer working at ES. Maybe it's what they want because they're not really that ambitious in the first place, they didn't want to be like the big three, they crushed their own chances at rising to the top simply because they don't want to. They want to remain being the friendly approachable unit. Which also, they have every right to do that and i love them for it.

But they haven't really been involved in anything that much since winning the SS? Subaru also complains to hokuto about this. I'm pretty sure this was what started his whole fight with hokuto at graduation. About how hokuto promised him to fulfill his dreams and stand on the stage with him but hokke is doing none of it. Hokke is too stubborn because he cannot accept ES being all too powerful and commanding. It's like with eichi in the past but 10 times worse and he cannot stand it. But hokuto's defiance is putting the already pretty inactive trickstar in danger during ES' rise and subaru cannot stand to see his beloved trickstar get crushed like this.

I don't know...compare that to ddd where hokke was the one who betrayed trickstar to got to fine and subaru was the last standing official trickstar member, and it feels like they switched lmao. But it's so depressing to see them bowing down to ES, even if it's the best choice.

[lizhly-writes]

i felt like writing more stuff with siblings. so we're here with this again.

Moving out at sixteen with like, zero money meant getting the tiniest, shittiest apartment that they could afford. It was ultra shitty. Chen Lihua could only count herself lucky that they didn’t have to share beds with strangers, like she might have if she wasn’t splitting costs with her brother. Still, there really was only one bed, and barely any more floorspace than that, so there was bed-sharing involved either way.

Chen Liwei didn’t snore or move around in his sleep, so it could have been worse. But ‘could have been worse’ didn’t mean good. It was cramped, overly-warm, incredibly easy to accidentally wake the other person up with only the slightest movement.

Chen Lihua had been thrilled when they’d finally upgraded to an apartment big enough for two beds.

She’d made it cute. Nice pillowcase, soft bedspread patterned with pretty pink plum blossoms. There was room enough for her to spread out all her limbs and not accidentally kick another human in the face. What a luxury.

Somehow, she still found herself here, at her brother’s bed, watching him sleep. He didn’t seem to be having problems. He was fine. He was enjoying his brand new bed and everything was peaceful and everything anyone could ever want from a good night’s rest.

“Move over,” Chen Lihua said, and shoved him to the side.

Chen Liwei made a noise like a dying balloon. This didn’t stop Chen Lihua from getting in under the covers.

“Why,” he wheezed.

“We still haven’t gotten the heating system working, and A-Wei is so warm,” she simpered. To emphasize the point, she stuck her foot (ice-cold!) against the back of his calf. The resulting yelp was music to her ears.

“Why would you do this.”

“I’m cold.”

“Yeah, I can tell.” Chen Liwei propped himself up on his elbow, squinting at her blearily through the darkness. “What’s wrong with your bed? Not enough blankets?”

“Sure,” Chen Lihua said.

“Fucking hell,” Chen Liwei said, and rolled over. “Told you you got a shitty blanket. Don’t buy something just because it looks pretty, make sure it actually works. We’ll--” he yawned. “We’ll… get you more in the morning…”

And he was out again.

Truthfully, there was nothing actually wrong with her bed. The mattress was soft, the pillow was fluffy, the blankets were warm. By all rights, it should have been perfectly comfortable.

Here was the real problem: Chen Lihua was no longer used to sleeping alone.

[pleuvoire]

ok since i can't draw my ultra/host ocs i will just talk about them. they don't have names because i am lousy at coming up with oc names like that is the least important part of the process to me. also i'm a bit self-conscious about how i accidentally just made "zero and leito but they both suck like 50% more" however i hope it is still original enough for you to enjoy

host guy is a deadbeat dad in his 40s in the middle of ongoing divorce proceedings at the time of the story. he works at the defense team organization but he's not actually on the defense team, he just has a desk job doing like administrative or resource management stuff. he's kind of shitty and cringe but not like a terrible guy. there's not much else to say about him

ultra is a haughty and arrogant young (but not that young) warrior with a predominantly blue design involving gracefully curving lines. he's like a warrior-poet type of guy who thinks that fighting is just one of the many ways to achieve the heights of elegance and perfection of form and the fierce rush of being alive. he's very cultured but only about alien culture, he thinks humans are insects beneath his notice and he fights kaiju out of warrior's pride instead of heroic instinct. but of course, he has a character development arc about this and eventually ends up as the "good guy hero but tsundere about it" archetype. *listening to beethoven* "hmph... maybe humans are good for something." he's like a giant shitty cat in many ways. main weapon is a fancy spear.

the two of them became bonded when host guy was in the area of a monster fight chasing after the defense team trying to warn them they were out of ammo because a delivery of it was late, or something, and had the misfortune to get hit by a meteor. except it wasn't a meteor! it was our ultra guy, wounded and crashing to earth, and they are now bonded accidentally! ultra guy is very mad about this but he doesn't have the strength to regain his own body outside of 3-minute kaiju fights so he's stuck like this. host guy is none too pleased about being stuck with a giant shitty space cat in his brain either. as part of their bond ultra guy can sort of astral project and walk around his host's surroundings in an incorporeal form that only his host can see and hear and touch. this astral projection can vary from human size to sit-outside-your-host's-apartment-building-using-the-roof-as-an-armrest size (it's okay because people just walk right through him). in this astral projection form he also has no sense of personal space and is constantly touching and sitting on and leaning on his host which drives his host insane because if he tries to shove him off he will look weird shoving at nothing. however despite all this touching they are not actually gay for each other and they are basically just a guy and his shitty cat from space.

their relationship goes from constant bickering to a kind of grudgingly heartwarming bond. ultra guy's fierce love for the beauty of heart-pounding fighting and his disdain for host guy's sad narrow joyless life eventually inspires host guy to enjoy the world around him and broaden his horizons a little more, and of course being bonded with host guy inspires ultra guy to have the classic antihero arc as i mentioned before. they grow to care about each other but they will never ever admit it. it's cute

the actual defense team are all supporting characters but i don't feel like thinking too hard about them right now. when they find out host guy is ultraman (about a third of the way through the show) they invite him to join them but he doesn't because he's lazy and undisciplined. but he still keeps working with them as ultraman so it's an odd sort of relationship

[inky2556]

Magix Ultra

Chapter 17

"Chiara?"

"Yes?" Said fairy answered, quickly covering up that her mind wandered off for a moment.

Contrary to the injuries she sustained, Chiara was thankfully able to recover at a faster rate after receiving treatment. While she was fine physically, she couldn't help the bad feeling that stuck with her. Which grew worse after finding out that Zero had been kidnapped by the darkclopses.

The new generation along with the UFZ took off to find him. Chiara wanted to come with but needed to stay in order to help figure out the current problem they were facing. And that was the stone statue ultras.The ultras that got turned to stone remained in the section of the city where Nera attacked.

The fairy easily determined that magic was at play. She could feel the evil magic in the area the statues were residing in from a mile way. Nera's dark and evil magic. Then, she discovered that a spell had been casted on them. It was a parasitic spell that drained a beings life force and spread to whoever came in contact with the infected.

At the very least, it doesn't completely drain the victims life force which would allow some room for healing. If they can figure out a way to get them back normal first. But it begs the question, why would Nera need so much ultra life force?

However, that could be answered later because now the main focus was to turn the statues back to ultras.

"If magic is involved then what would be the best course of action?" Hikari asked Chiara. Science and magic didn't really mix and all of Silver Cross and Science Bureau efforts had proven to be futile. Now the attention was on Chiara, as she was the only one to possess the literal magic power on their planet.

After wracking her brain, thinking back to all she's learnt and the challenges she faced with the winx, Chiara finally got an idea on how to break the spell. Without wasting anymore time, she stood before statues, at a safe distance, and yelled,

"Magic winx! Enchantix!"

In an instant, she was engulfed in light. Not a second later the light faded and revealed Chiara in her enchantix form. Which consists of a purple halter dress that reached just beneath her knees and dark blue transparent stockings with barefoot sandals that spiralled up her legs.

Her silver hair grew longer and was done in a braided half ponytail with long strands framing her face. The wings on her back were shimmering and had jewels hanging on the edges. Around her neck was a simple white silk choker necklace with a miniature bottle dangling in the middle.

Immediately, Chiara spread her wings and began flying above the statues. She then took off the miniature bottle from her chocker.

Chiara flew high above and spread her fairy dust on the statues. For a very small bottle,the glittering dust it held seemed to he endless.

"It's working." Said Mebius.

And truly, using her fairy dust gave positive results. The statues slowly but surely transformed back into ultras. Not only can the fairy dust break dark spell, it also has healing properties. Which helped replenish their life force all in one go.

After landing and dropping her transformation, Chiara looked over the sea of ultras who were previously stone statues. She was relieved to see that her fairy dust was successful.

"If you don't mind, can I have some of that dust for research?" The Chief Scientist asked her. Magic and science may not go well together but that didn't stop him from studying it.

"Sure. After we bring Zero home." Chiara answered as she once again transformed and said a quick good bye before taking to the skies to find and join the rest of her friends in the search for the missing ultra. ________________________________________

As she was on her way to the last coordinates Geed, Chiara ran into some unexpected trouble. About a dozen darkclopses standing between her and the planet where Geed said they were.

"Looks like I'm at the right place."

Both sides charged at each other at the same time. One fairy of light versus a bunch of darkclopses. All the robots came at her from all directions while she fired spells and swung her saber.

It came to a point where they had her completely surrounded. Knowing what was about to happen,she quickly encased herself in a crystal barrier. A moment later she would've been fried as the darkclopses realised full fire on her.

They continued firing at her while Chiara was trying to think of a way out of it. She closed her eyes to think. But everything suddenly became black...

•~•

Chiara found herself standing in a dark void resembling the dark killer zone. Suddenly, the sound of a familiar beeping noise rang in her ears. She followed the sound and saw Zero not too far away from her.

Straight away she ran over to him. The ultra was on his knees with his head down. There was no light in his erium lamp and eyes. His color lamp beeped rapidly before coming to a stop.

"No..." she muttered when she saw the bodies of her friends around him.Then his color lamped beeped rapidly before finally coming to a stop. And it wasn't lighting up anymore.

"Zero!" The fairy cried with tears in her eyes as the ultra and everyone else started to slowly fade away into golden dust. Chiara fell to her knees and sobbed. Everyone... they can't be...

Though her sadness was short lived when fear all of a sudden filled her heart. Slowly, she lifted her head and in the place where Zero vanished, was Zero. A darker and more frightful version of him than the ones they encountered before.

•~•

Chiara's eyes snapped opened and she was in her barrier again while the darkclopses still attacking her from the outside. There were tears in her eyes as the thing she saw and felt lingered.

Her friends...were they....?

No! Not on her watch!

She willed herself to collect her magic as fast as she could. Then the barrier came down and she let out a burst of power that took out all the darkclopses around her.

Without wasting anymore time, Chiara made a mad dash towards the planet, hoping that what she saw didn't come true.

'Please be safe' _______________________________________

"You need to snap outta it!" Geed yelled only to get struck with a flying black slugger.

"Oi Zero boy! Yer really gonna let another bad guy possess ya like that? Get a hold of yourself!"

"You once lost your heart to darkness yet you were still able to fight back and save all of us. We know you can do it again...we believe in you, Ultraman Zero!"

Unfortunately, their words didn't get through to him as the dark Zero continued on with his onslaught. They all combined their strengths to fight him but it wasn't enough. It was like he was toying with them.

All of a sudden, the dark ultra blasted them with a wave of dark energy. But before it struck them, a ball of light shot down from above and deflected it.

"Chiara!"

They were all surprised and relieved to see their fairy friend. She however, was shocked to see the dark ultra. He looked like the one she saw in her vision. And what she saw now or rather what she didn't see, made her more distressed than she already was.

Zero...he couldn't be...

The dark Zero suddenly began laughing. It started low and escalated to a howl.

"She was right. It really is you! I'd recognise that wretched light anywhere." Said the dark Zero. Seeing how guarded and confused she looked, he continued,

"After all these eons, don't tell you've forgotten me. I'm...Armadus."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Can also be found on: Wattpad & AO3

[1310miles]

Forty Three

As I’ve written about before, the scheduling of these remaining marathons is getting trickier. I think back to the early days where I had so many to choose from and now, I’ve got to really think about timing to make sure I hit every state. If it were so to happen that my last six states only had marathons in the same month or week, I’d really have an issue! Thankfully, I think I’ve got my plans sorted out well. However, I have less of a preference of where I travel to. The locations within the states are really based on timing rather than where I’d like to go. For instance, in South Dakota, I would have preferred to do a race in the western part of the state and made a trip with the kids to the Badlands and Mount Rushmore. Instead, I needed to check it off the list, so I made my reservations for Sioux Falls. 

It was a snap decision, and I wasn’t through a full training cycle, but if I didn’t run it, I didn’t see any way to get a race in to couple with my planned marathon in Oregon in October. I considered the Sioux Falls race to be a training run for Oregon and went in with the mentality that I shouldn’t (and didn’t need to) push too hard. I pursued this marathon so late that registration was full, and I had to register for their “ultra,” which was the marathon plus a 5k afterward. I contacted race management to confirm that I didn’t have to do both races to be considered a finisher. They said I would be fine just doing the marathon, but it did sit in the back of my head as a concern. 

I was in Sioux Falls a day early to explore, run and relax. I had trouble doing the latter though because my hotel wasn’t making things easy. First, their cable system was out, so my plans to rot in bed all day and watch crime tv were foiled. Second, I couldn’t seem to beg my way into getting a late check out; no matter who I asked, they held the line that there was zero chance.

I needed to be out of the room at 10am on Sunday, and since the race started at 7am, there was simply no way I could get showered. I thought about how I would be on the plane as a disgusting post 26.2-mile mess. I thought about trying to find another hotel and sneak in their fitness facility (this hotel didn’t have one). I thought about all the angles. And then I put two and two together. 

I put on my most pathetic voice and approached the front desk again. I was here to relax in a new city, and not only had housekeeping not cleaned my room on Saturday, the tv was not working. I was feeling so very unwelcome in town, and especially by the Hilton organization. I wanted the clerk to pass on how dissatisfied I was to management. Oh, what’s that? Can you do anything to make my stay any better considering these issues? Sigh. I guess not. Oh wait…maybe there is something. Thus, I got a late check out at noon. 

The morning came and I could see the starting line from my hotel window. I was right across the street so I didn’t have to contend with parking and the finish was at the same spot so getting back would be easy too. I befriended a woman in the lobby, and we walked there together. She’s also doing 50 states but was only around 20 races in. She was also planning on doing the 5k after the marathon, so I started thinking maybe I could as well. It was just an idea. 

At the start were all the standard songs runners are familiar with at races. “Born to Run,” “Back in Black,” “Run this Town,” “Eye of the Tiger,” and the Macklemore classic “Ceiling Can’t Hold Us.” That last one is a real ear worm, and I got it stuck in my head. The field was small, 250 runners. We headed out to tackle the Sioux Falls region. 

The scenery was pleasant. We basically followed the river which loops south and then north around the city. The tourism bureau photo op location is the “Falls” which we arrived at around mile 5. This is a rocky park that the river cascades down. Lots of spectators there, and what’s that? A familiar song…”Ceiling Can’t Hold Us.” Just as I had gotten it out of my head. 

For ten days before the race, Chicago (and Sioux Falls) experienced a heat wave. We were hitting almost 100 for a few days and I was nervous about the conditions for the race. I hydrated better than I ever had prior to a race, and I was practically floating by the time the day arrived. Miraculously, the heat stopped just for us and the temps were in the high 50s. Really tolerable, but I still stopped and walked through the aid stations. Like I mentioned, I planned to run the race easy, and I didn’t want to over stress. 

Since I wasn’t speeding or stressing, the idea of doing that 5k at the end started taking shape. I thought a lot about how amazed everyone would be when I told them that I had done an Ultra! It felt like an interesting way to experience the race and hit another accomplishment. I knew it started at 10:45 and I though perhaps I’d make it to the starting line just in time. 

There were not a lot of spectators in this race, and frankly not a lot of runners. At one point I was so alone for so long that I stopped a family in a park to confirm that I was still on the race route. The spectators I did see were leap frogging the course and they became familiar sights. One man told me as I crested a hill “it’s all downhill from here.” He and I both knew it was a lie, and I told him I was holding him to it. The next time I saw him, he acted afraid of my wrath, and I told him he was a big fat liar, all in good fun. 

Along the way, I heard that damn Macklemore song 2.5 more times!!! I say .5 because I couldn’t tell if I had just absorbed the rhythm of the music into my psyche that all songs sounded like it or that I really had heard it that one additional time. I feel like someone needs to write a new “running inspiration” song ASAP. 

As is my new strategy, I was working on getting in the top three in my age group. It’s a good way to keep occupied and keep going when I feel like dogging it in a race. Pursuing women along the course kept me really engaged. I would pass a woman and then just take notice of the next one up ahead and make a plan to overtake her (if this was being written by a man, it would sound nefarious). Along the way I passed 9 women, and I observed something interesting. I could spot a female runner from far away because only women were wearing colors in the race. Almost all the men were wearing black shorts and black shirts. Most women were wearing bright fun colors. I felt like the black clothes were the wrong choice in the heat. 

Coming up on the end of the race I began reconsidering the next 5k. I felt alright, but I was going to miss the start of the race and I felt sure I would need to walk a good part of it. I was also feeling less confident in my late check out and hoping that the hotel manager wasn’t planning on kicking me out early or taking back the clerk’s promise to me. I decided to just plan on finishing, but if I felt awesome, jump into the 5k late.

The finish line was one of the most frustrating I’ve experience. Although we came upon what looked like the end, we were sent around a stadium, and ran the finish on the track inside the stadium. My watch was already reading 26.2 so each step felt like too much extra effort. Additionally, I had started to sprint to stay ahead of one final woman who looked like she could be in my age group, and the extended finish was really stressing my speed. When I finally crossed the line, my watch read 26.57, and I did beat her soundly. 

I was dead though. Just couldn’t even fathom running 3.1 more miles. I gave up on the ultra and tried to make my way to the hotel. In a sign that I had enough, I tried to step over a barrier and my entire hamstring cramped up. I screamed and then laughed. No way. I was done. 

Back at the hotel, I showered and didn’t overstay my welcome. I did in fact get 3rd in my age group and the “medal” would be mailed to me. On the way out of the lobby, my friend from the morning was walking in. She had just finished the 5k after running the marathon and getting 4th place overall! 

[mars-ipan]

LAST MINUTE STANNARRATOR PROPAGANDA BECAUSE PLEASE I AM DESPERATE (spoilers below):

hiiii i did propaganda for these two once (insult compilation) and i’m doing more because i am Not Normal about these two.

i’m gonna start this off with a little scenario i’d like you to imagine yourself in. you are trapped in a cramped place with someone. you want to do things your way, they want to do things their way. you are almost never able to compromise, and never for long. it feels like things rarely ever go the way you want. regardless, they’re insufferable. when you’re in control of what happens, they pout and act like a schoolchild. when they’re in control, they lord it over you. sometimes they do things seemingly just to hurt you, like they get some sick joy out of making you upset. of course, you strike back your own fair share of times- it’s only fair to take an eye for an eye, right? you never talk about hurting each other, but you know. regardless, you’re stuck together. so you try to get along, at least somewhat.

you hate them. you want nothing more than to be rid of them.

you need them. without them you’d be completely alone in here, and you both know there’s nothing more terrifying than being truly alone. you might die without them- worse, you might not.

you love them, maybe.

this is how stanley and the narrator each feel about each other. this isn’t much of an exaggeration, either- yes, the game is a comedy, yes one is just a voice and the other is just a vessel, but if you look close at both the narrator’s voice lines and the patterns in which people play the game you can find this dynamic pretty easily.

the entire game is a power struggle between you and the narrator, and whether or not you get along varies incredibly wildly. sometimes the narrator speaks to you like an old friend, sometimes he curses the day you were born. he’s always very petty and snarky, and players are too.

oh, and just for the record: the narrator kills you a total of 5 times, not including bucket ending variants (if i’m remembering properly). you die to spite him once and also maybe accidentally kill him once? it’s vague

some of my fav divorced bits (from memory) include:

all of the narrator’s previously mentioned insults (some of the most divorced being “i was in the middle of something- do you have zero consideration for others”, “you’re a child”, “it must be so simple to be you”, and “who’d want to dedicate their life to you?”)

the broom closet that you can enter and spend time in JUST to piss off the narrator there is literally nothing else for you there it’s the best

the narrator giving you a bucket and then immediately regretting that decision as he quickly becomes incredibly jealous of the tight-knit relationship between you and the bucket (which is, i cannot stress enough, literally just a metal bucket that he gave you as a comfort item). he then blames you for being friends with the bucket and tries to destroy it (he fails <3)

the line “i’ve had time to think about you, and about me, and about us” in the skip button ending and the similar “plenty of time to talk about you, and about us” in the countdown ending

the INCREDIBLY tiny easter eggs of the narrator having a tab with a search for “stanley kissing” open in a trailer for the ultra deluxe version of the game and “nude stanley” on an in-game piece of paper showing a list of ideas for the stanley parable 2. these make me laugh every time i remember them

the ending where the narrator gives you a wife and then immediately shows you she’s fake and he made her up to prank you because he knew it’d make you mad

if you go against every direction he gives you the narrator just says “fine fuck it we’ll play some other game then if you hate this one so much.” in the original you play minecraft (he builds a shitty little dirt hut <3) and then portal and in the remaster you play firewatch and then rocket league (you do not have a car)

in the museum ending the female narrator (referred to in fanon as the curator) gives the INCREDIBLE line of “how they wish to control one another. how they wish to destroy one another. how they both wish to be free”

while in the new content segment of the game the narrator will create a vent to a place and say he wants to show you something. if you ignore it to go to a different ending he calls you a dork in a bitter “whatever i didn’t even care way.” if you then return he goes “oh! i guess you’re not a dork”

while the narrator is taking you through the Memory Zone (nostalgia lair for the 2013 game) he speaks to you like an old friend and a french song starts playing. the song is about the memory zone, calls stanley and the narrator “the two ghosts”, and regularly addresses a “my love.” this asshole wrote a love song IN FRENCH and it’s all wistful and “how i miss the way things were” MOTHERFUCKER. here’s the lyrics if you wanna read them yourself

as has been mentioned on every poll of theirs so far the lead writer of tsp has described the narrator as “the platonic ideal of divorce” and he’s 100% correct. so

tweets from the crowsx3 twitter account and also kevan brighting (the narrator’s va). kevan’s tweets in particular horrify me a little bit but they’re good

IN CONCLUSION: please

Quarter Finals: Quodo (DSN) vs Stanarrator (TSP)

[jeiceys-dead-poets-hcs]

.

Love Songs You’d Catch Them Singing

i’m in a very musical mood today so don’t mind me-

also kind of an x reader- feast children

Neil Perry:

Honey, Honey by ABBA. What do we expect from a musical theatre nerd? Mama Mia! gives him all the dopamine.

Butterfly’s Repose by Zabawa. A little more of an emotional one, but I think it would just enclose how much you really mean to his big ol’ heart.

Always Forever by Cults. You’re all he needs, and he listens to anything to remind both of you about that fact.

He’d probably commonly have Big Black Car by Gregory Alan Isokov stuck in his head, too. Reminds him of how lucky he is to have you.

Todd Anderson:

I Hear a Symphony by Cody Fry. You can’t tell me this man doesn’t have pipes when he thinks he’s alone.

Love Like You by Rebecca Sugar. He always wants to learn to be like his partner, somebody he looks up to the most.

Home by Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros. Come on, he would even write the words “home is whenever I’m with you” in his letters to you.

He could also probably recite the whole talking interlude for you if you really convinced him.

Charlie Dalton:

A little more cliché, but, it’s Charlie we’re talking about. He absolutely adores listening to Your Song while fantasizing about having a dance with you.

come into my arms by November Ultra. Something tells me he loves slow, almost jazzy songs. What can we expect from a sax player?

Speaking of jazzy, how could we forget Dream a Little Dream of Me by Doris Day? That song always makes him want to envelop you in his arms and just sway around the room.

Steven Meeks:

Heart Like Yours by Williamette Stone. I feel like he wouldn’t be used to having a partner, but he reassures that he’s ready for anything with you. Hence the lyrics.

Mystery by Matt Maltese. Honestly, some of the lyrics don’t make sense to him, either. He just likes the phrase “I would pick you 10 out of 9 times.”

The Most Beautiful Thing by Bruno Major. He loves reminiscing about how he met you, when he met you, and any other possibilities of how how you guys could’ve ran into each other. He remembers the day vividly.

Gerard Pitts:

Melody Noir by Patrick Watson. He loves the mysterious undertone. It reminds him of trying to figure you out before you guys started dating. He loved the adventure.

A classic Disney song, So This Is Love. He dreams of doing it as a duet with you just in the middle of the night with you.

Like Real People Do by Hozier. With a low voice like his singing such a nice song like that? It could most likely put anybody to sleep.

Like- he could probably be a bass if he really tried.

Knox Overstreet:

Marry You by Bruno Mars. Simple man, simple, but effective song for a relationship.

So Will I by Ben Platt. He’s always there to reassure you that no matter what you experience, what hardships you retain within your life, he will go with you.

Two by Sleeping At Last. Knox always makes sure you’re well taken care of, happy, and healthy.

Richard Cameron:

Satellite by Ben Abraham. I feel like he would be rather sweet to you. Reassuring you that he will be your rock, even if he doesn’t understand. He’ll be your satellite to watch over you.

To be a little silly, and a little cliché, I feel like he would willingly sing A Teenager In Love by Dion & The Belmonts. Just a cute little song to sing and dance with you to and let loose.

He would definitely enjoy Head Over Heels by Tears For Fears. Just a song that reminds him of when you guys first met, and how desperate he was to actually talk to you.

[caiuscassiuss]

oppa! | ot7 (I)

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

Arc 1: Stepbrother Introductions

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

Chapter 1: Enter the Oldest Type, Jin!

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hello?” you asked in to the intercom.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh! Uh, yeah, please come on up.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re Y/N, right?”

Speechless, you nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh.

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

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

“I am so sorry—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’d be lovely.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter 2: Enter the Mature Type, Namjoon!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Candide, Crime and Punishment, The Metamorphosis…

“I’m sorry, but who are you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His fierce eyes turned to you and they blazed. 

“Made.”

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

“Y/N? Sister-dearest? I got you— oh!”

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

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

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

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

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

“So what were you chatting about then?”

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

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

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

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

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

Just like you always had.

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

Chapter 3: Enter the Rough Type, Jungkook!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jungkook? Are you good?” you prodded.

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

“I’m cooking, you dolt!”

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

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

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

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

“No.”

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

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

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

“Jungkook—“

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

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

“Well…”

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

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

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

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

—————

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

———- 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Complete radio silence. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter 5: Enter the Bright Type, Hoseok!

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

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

Hyerim fixed you a look.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The train slowed to a stop and you got up.

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

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

————— 

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

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

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

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

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

“Building 10, yes?” he asked boredly.

“Yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Kookie-ah?” you asked curiously.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter 7: Enter the Moody Type, Taehyung!

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

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

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

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

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

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

Turning the corner, your heart stopped.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

———- 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sounds good to me!”

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

————

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter 7: Enter the Cool Type, Yoongi!

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

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

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

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

“Call me oppa,” Hoseok whined.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

We’re in trouble.

———-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—————

“Y/N-ah. Y/N-ah, wake up!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

————

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How old are you, Yoongi-ssi?” 

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

“21, but turning 22 soon.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter 8: Enter the Cheeky Type, Jimin!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

——— 

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

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

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

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

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

“Relax, Y/N. It’s just one test.”

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

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

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

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

“Gotcha.”

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

“—gry, Y/N?”

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

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

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

“... Jungkook?”

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

“Yeah, that’s fine.”

————— 

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

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

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

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

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

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

—————

“Oh? Who are you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“H-Hyung?”

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

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

“Aw, Jungkookie, I missed you,” the familiar yet still unknown man cooed as he clung to Jungkook’s broad shoulders. “It’s been so long,” he whined, lips pursed in a pout.

Still breathless from lavender boy’s attentions, you sat up on the couch and saw stars as the blood rushed to your head. Blinking to clear it away, you reached up to your neck to touch the spots where lavender boy had touched.

“Jungkook-ah?” you whispered, voice rough from lack of use. “Who’s this?”

Your classmate still stared at you in shock as lavender boy clung to him like a leech, cooing at Jungkook.

“Aw, is this your girlfriend, Jungkookie?” Angel boy said fretfully after a moment of silence. “I’m so sorry, I thought she was a fan! Forgive me!”

You cleared your throat nervously, righting your disheveled clothes and messy hair. “Look, I have no idea who the hell you are, but I am not Jungkook’s girlfriend nor your fan and either way, you should not be— be assaulting unsuspecting girls who just wanted to nap!”

“Who the hell am I?” Lavender boy retorted rudely, no longer seductive or cutesy as his eyes narrowed at you. “I live here, wench!”

“Well I’m about to, fool!” you sneered, crossing your arms.

“Jungkook-ie, call security as I deal with this clearly crazy lady!” The still unknown boy huffed, advancing towards you.

Jungkook finally got out of his trance and grabbed Jimin by the shoulder. “Jimin-Hyung, stop! Haven’t we talked about her in the groupchat a lot? She’s our new sister!”

Jimin froze and his eyebrows lifted minutely, whirling around to look at Jungkook. “Wait, what? We have a sister now?”

He looked at you differently, eyes scanning your figure disinterestedly. “Did Seoyeon—” he spat out the name like it was stale gum in his mouth, “—find another baby we didn’t know about? Another poor bastard like me?”

You got whiplash with how much he changed moods and started to inch away. Well, it seemed like your step brother was nothing like how he portrayed himself in the videos you had seen online about him. A frown pushed at your lips.

Jungkook pinched the bridge of his nose. “No, hyung, mom got married again to Y/N’s father. She’s our new step sister now.”

Jimin stayed silent before he turned to you again, his eyes mocking. A shit-eating smirk crawled up his lips. “Well, sister dearest, welcome to the family!”

Arc: Character Introductions Ended. Press [ X ] to continue?

A/N: If you’ve watched BroCon and you’re curious to who each person is based on, here’s the guide:

Jin (Doctor) = A mixture of Uyko and Masaomi

Namjoon (Businessman) = Natsume

Jungkook (Gamer/ Uni Student) = Yusuke

Hoseok (Dancer) = Himself lol he was supposed to be Subaru but i didn’t want to make him super angsty. Don’t worry, in this story he’ll be more than just his stage persona :)))

Taehyung (Magazine editor) = Louis

Yoongi (Producer) = mixture of Yuusuke’s tsundere-ness and Iori’s calmness

Jimin (Idol) = Fuuto with a bit of Tsubaki’s personality

Anyways, if you enjoyed it, please comment and reblog!!! I appreciate any feedback you may have, whether it be a sentence or a whole dang paragraph— I love it all :))) Please, if you’re doing okay, please help me pay for school through my Ko-Fi (link in my profile).

Arc II: Decisions and Settling In will be released in a month!! Comment if you’d like to be tagged :))

[stillness-in-green]

Say, concerning Skeptic, think he's staying behind at the Villain cave or wherever? I wanna believe he's with whatever remains of the PLF Intelligence Regiment Advisors, just keeping tabs on everyone.

I think it certainly makes sense that he’d stay at the Villain cave, certainly preferentially to him being with AFO’s army.  In Deika, he didn’t go out into the streets to confront anyone (like Curious and Geten) or run support (like Trumpet), but sensibly stayed in the tower right up until his own plan/competency was brought into question.  And it was, of course, very easy to leave the tower and then get to wherever in town he needed to be when he got his dander up; much harder for him to get anywhere of note from the Cave of Villainy, and far fewer people to poke at the sore spot that is his pride.

Assuming the internet is stable, he really doesn’t have much reason to leave.  As I’ve said in the past, Skeptic's quirk is solid enough, but his real strength is in his digital connections, not his combat capabilities.  Assuming he still has the ability to bug his own puppets, that combined with AFO’s warp means there’s no reason he couldn’t put those puppets anywhere the villains want them to be, including with the PLF remnants, be it as mobile servants or combat back-up.

On the other hand, that all begs the question of whether he wants to stay in the Villain cave.  We have gotten exactly zero insight into his thoughts on being stuck with AFO, but you have to imagine that he is at best Coping with it as a situation he’s making the best of despite wanting nothing so much as to get back his actual friends and comrades.

In that regard, it bears asking whether he’d take the opportunity to either bail when AFO and company left or try to steer the planning phase such that he could get put with the PLF remnants before the operation started.  The former feels unlikely; who wants All For One chasing after you because you left before he wanted you to?  The latter, though, I could definitely see.

On a similar note, it’s worth considering where AFO would want him to be for the operation; if he had any opinions on it, surely those would have carried the day.  He certainly didn’t take Skeptic into the main assault, but he might well have sent him off with Spinner, who’s presumably with aforementioned PLF remnants.  It’d lend some legitimacy to the idea that the Liberation Front is definitely still functioning and in pursuit of all its previous goals, and definitely not being ground under the authoritarian heel of an ultra-villain who cares not at all about the Great Cause.

Lastly, there’s the question of where Horikoshi needs him to be.  Assuming the heroes eventually carry the day here, we’ll need to see them dealing with all the enemy forces, which means finding that one guy who can project whatever he damn well wants onto TVs across the country.  The heroes still don’t know where the Cave of Villainy is, though, and without a computer genius of their own,* they don’t have a way to find it without someone who was in it telling them.

Shinsou might be able to get that answer now that he can make people talk, though I’m unclear on whether he can order people to say indefinite things like “the truth” or “what AFO expects to hear,” or can only make them say specific things.  Alternately, if one of the remaining League members turns after being defeated by their respective student (Dabi, Toga) or just to get Shigaraki some help (Spinner), that information could come from them.

That information doesn’t need to come out, however, if Skeptic is just conveniently not at the Villain cave when things start winding down, which would point to him being on Team Remnants if only so he can be arrested with them.  That's probably where the smart money is if Horikoshi is looking to wrap all this up neatly, quickly, and conclusively.

If he isn’t, though?  The most interesting possibility to me is that Skeptic did stay at the cave and its location is just never revealed; we never see Skeptic being collected by heroes.  That’d give us an ending that intentionally leaves some plot threads dangling, and man, if the MLA survivors could leave this story as a conscious loose end, that’d be fantastic.  Better than I’d been expecting, for sure, and better by far than that weak-ass, “The other sympathizers were also rounded up,” handwave after Jakku.  Fingers crossed, and thanks for the ask as always, @shockersalvage!

---

*  Mei being a mechanic by preference, La Brava is the closest thing the series has to a good-aligned “computer person,” and I don’t see her doing hero work without things like “a full pardon for Gentle” being on the table.  That would in turn require a lot more willingness to negotiate with villains than the hero side has shown thus far.

[scarlett-green-rose]

Why are we stopping w/ Meta Knight's revenge + Planet Robobot?

I'm pretty sure the generally accepted timeline is the release of the games right? So the usual order of main games would be:

Dream Land - Dedede steals everyone's food

Adventure - Dedede breaks Star Rod to keep everyone safe from Nightmare

Dream Land 2 - Kirby vs. Dark Matter

Superstar (Ultra) - Milky Way Wishes (Marx steals Kirby's wish), Revenge of Meta Knight (Meta Knight tries to take over Dream Land), Meta Knightmare (Meta Knight goes on a training montage and fights Galacta)

Dream Land 3 - Kirby vs. Zero

Crystal Shards - Kirby vs. Zero2

Amazing Mirror - Kirby vs. Dark Mind

Squeak Squad - Kirby vs. Dark Nebula

Return to Dream Land - Introducing Magolor!

Triple Deluxe - The Fall of Sectonia's Reign

Planet Robobot - Operation Popstar Mechanisation (Meta Knight gets mechanised)

Star Allies - Dream Team Simulator

Forgotten Land - Oh My God, Lore

If we place Planet Robobot near or at the start and then Meta Knight's Revenge immediately afterwards we can establish his distance from the rest of Dream Land immediately. And then, from then on while the Halberd's being rebuilt he goes on sabbatical to fight Galacta. While he's gone, Kirby picks up his slack and protects Dream Land from: King Dedede's thievery, Dark Matter, Zero, Zero2 and Sectonia, (MK isn't present in any of these games) w/ some side games like Epic Yarn(? I don't know much about the non-main games, I haven't explored them yet and I've stuck to the main games to learn about Kirby)

By the time he gets back, Kirby is used to fighting Dedede back to his senses and keeping Dream Land safe. Dedede still trusts Meta Knight (at least tentatively) enough to give him a piece of the Star Rod but not all of them, meanwhile Kirby sees the broken fountain, King Dedede who broke it and him giving a piece to a known traitor who disappeared for a while and left Dream Land defenseless to many threats and goes "Yeah, that's not good," and undoes what Kirby perceives to be an evil deed. Meanwhile, Marx finds out about what Meta Knight did during his sabbatical and how he did it and thinks, "I want to make a wish too."

Squeak Squad and Amazing Mirror (+ other side games? I really don't know much about them) happens where Meta Knight is trying to get back into his role of Dream Land's defender w/ Kirby going against him because he doesn't trust him. (Kirby is very quick in both games to just fight MK whenever he's on screen). Forgotten Land happens next, and both Meta Knight and Kirby have a tentative allyship where Kirby goes out and rescues Dream Landers while Meta Knight keeps them safe in Waddle Dee Town.

RTDL happens and there's a friendship between Kirby and Meta Knight given that they've both established themselves as DL's protectors. This grows as they fight against Magolor's betrayal. It's actually from his relationship with Meta Knight where Kirby learns to forgive Magolor's betrayal in the first place and give him a second chance. (It helps that Magolor was clearly possessed)

Finally, Star Allies happens. Kirby forgives Marx, and Susie (and maybe Taranza, it depends on what happens after Triple Deluxe) or is at the very least willing to give him a second chance. Because while some Dream Landers might not trust MK much anymore, Kirby didn't either but he gave him a chance and they're best friends now!

So now, the Game order is:

Planet Robobot - Meta Knight gets mechanised

Meta Knight's Revenge - Meta Knight's coup after the perceived betrayal of Dream Land against him

Meta Knightmare - After his defeat against Kirby, Meta Knight goes on a sabbatical and fights Galacta Knight to get stronger

Triple Deluxe - Sectonia kidnaps King DDD Popstar's greatest warrior/defender while Meta Knight's gone (this is earliest because Kirby isn't recognised as the greatest warrior) in preparation to take over Dream Land (I don't remember her game motivations so...)

Dream Land - King DDD steals everyone's food (in preparation for another attack from Floralia)

Dream Land 2 - Kirby vs. Dark Matter (King DDD possessed)

Dream Land 3 - Kirby vs. Zero

Crystal Shards - Kirby vs. Zero2

Adventure - King DDD breaks Star Rod to protect Dream Land and gives a piece to Meta Knight

Milky Way Wishes - Marx finds out what Meta Knight was doing and wants to make a wish too

Squeak Squad - Meta Knight fights Kirby to keep him from releasing Dark Nebula

Amazing Mirror - Meta Knight fails to save the Mirror World from Dark Mind and relies on Kirby's help to save himself, the Mirror World and Dream Land

Forgotten Land - Kirby and Meta Knight form a tentative allyship to both rescue and keep Dream Landers safe in this forgotten realm

Return to Dream Land - Kirby and Co. get back to Dream Land from the Forgotten Land and come across a mysterious traveller in need of help

Star Allies - Kirby has learned from his relationship with Meta Knight the power of friendship and second chances, but could the combined might of his friends and enemies-turned-new-friends be enough to defeat this new threat?

This new timeline has:

Meta Knight's conflict with his duty, he now has to fight to prove his place as Dream Land's Knight against not just Kirby but also its people and himself.

Kirby's journey from distrustful self-made defender of Dream Land to his more canon/fanon trusting defender.

King Dedede as a great ruler this whole time who, despite his laziness, is really just doing his best with the bad hand he's been dealt.

Return to Dream Land's title now makes sense.

It’s been said in a few interviews that the Kirby games have no definitive timeline, and while that is ignored and a generally accepted order of events is what fans go with, I do think there is missed potential in not exploring alternate orders of events.

Like, for example, if Revenge of Meta Knight took place after the events of Planet Robobot, imagine how different the motivation of “changing Dreamland’s lazy ways” would feel with the context that a few months prior, Meta was the only one reacted to the initial invasion. Do you guys see my vision.

[nn1895]

AU August Fic 3

Country Side

“Prowl, this is what people do in the countryside,” Carrier explained.  “We visit our neighbors and exchange gossip.  That’s it.  So, unless you want to sit in this house and -”

“Yes, thank you.”  Prowl spun around and retreated back to the guest room.

“Ugh!” He saw Carrier throwing up his servos behind him, in the reflection of one of the many, many chrome decorations.

Prowl had been living with his Carrier for six months and he was already going mad.  If he had to recharge to the sound of scurrying turbofoxes and buzzing diodeflies for one more night, he’d bash his own helm in.

He’d been persuaded -threatened - to give up his small apartment in the city, right above the armory Enforcers’ armory after they had put him on indefinite leave.

He had heard of disgraced nobility being banished to the country for crimes that average bots would go to prison for.  As a child, every time they visited their country estate there was at least one “they’re staying with us while they sort all that mess out in Vos/Iacon/Polyhex” at every party.  His creators always made sure he was never left alone with them.

It had made watching those holiday specials where an overworked city bot learned all about the joys of simply country living awkward.  Strongarm and Ultra Magnus had devoured those quietly during every Lost Sparks Day season.

He had not expected to be sent to the country for protesting a training.

The “Frame Protection Act” was functionalist propaganda that would lead to more crime, more murders, and more suicides.  Prowl had run his tactical computer at its highest setting (and given himself a three day migraine) in order to get the most accurate predictions.

He has presented them at the beginning of the week and by the end he had been pseudo-fired and his carrier was sending for him.

He missed the clink of the armory guard cleaning the rail guns and the explosion when he accidentally shot a hole in the wall.

0-0-0

“There will be crystals - you like crystals!”

There will be people. I hate people.”

“One, that’s a lie, two, there will be far more crystals than people.  You don’t have to talk to them, just get a cube and wander the gardens.  You can pretend to be all mysterious-“

“I don’t- “

“- brood a bit and then we can go home.”

Prowl opened his mouth to argue and then the kitchen timer dinged.

“The jellies!”  Carrier tripped over the ornately carved floor - very old-credit country home chic - and raced towards the kitchen.

Prowl walked over and slumped onto the entryway couch.  He stared down at the floor.  Following the old style of interlocking squares, it was deeply and intricately carved.  The deeper the carving, the deeper the expensive flooring would have to be.  It was a tripping risk and very difficult and time consuming to clean.

It would be horrible for any bot who used wheels or had stilt legs instead of pedes.  Smaller bots - mini-bots, symbiotes, the microbots that lived in the Archives of Iacon - would need to be carried across most of it or their pedes would be stuck.

In the country, even the slagging floor was functionalist.

0-0-0

There was a knock on the door.  Prowl stood up.  Maybe it was a criminal come to murder him to get him out of the garden party.  That would be helpful.

Carrier was still packing up the jellies and their best high-grade into baskets because apparently just carrying them was a faux-pas.

He swung the door open.

“So sorry, but we’re about to leave - “

“I know.  I’m ya ride, sweetspark.”

The mech in front of him looked so out of place Prowl’s processor skirted the edge of a crash for a brief moment.

His paint was flat and stark.  There were no contrasting or complimenting flecks or glitter.  The black and white were generic.  He ran the blue and red as well and both came back as triple zero series paints - the basic colors every shop had for mixing custom colors.  Instead of making him look cheap, he looked clean and fresh.  His curves glinted in the fading afternoon light.  His curves -  He looked like poetry.  He sounded like poetry.  His visor was tinted blue - just blue.  It matched his optics.  His very pretty optics.

Prowl had been standing in the doorway for five kilks, just staring.  

“Hello,” he choked out, servo gripping the door tightly.  “Who are you?”

The mech put a servo on his hip and grinned.

“Me?  I’m Jazz, love.  Ya must be Prowl, down from Praxus for the season.”

“I - yes, I am Prowl.”  He fumbled for something cool or interesting to say - anything!  Bots this beautiful didn’t turn up on his doorstep very often - or ever - he needed to do something impressive.

His processor was blank.

“Heard - a little cyberhawk tol’ me - that ya opposed the Frame Protection Act.  Tha’ true?”

Prowl nodded.

“I - “

“Prowl!  Hurry and take this basket!  Our ride should be - oh, hello!”  Carrier was shoving a large silver woven basket into his arms, squeezing around him.  “You must be the singer everyone’s been talking about!  You’re staying at the Rubidium Cottage, yes?  I’m looking forward to your performance tomorrow night at Flashfire’s ball!”  He held out his servo and Jazz took it with a smile.

“That’ll be me,” Jazz said.  The grin he’d given Prowl was gone.  This smile looked…professional, false.  “I’m here to escort ya both to the party and carry anything ya need me ta.”

“Oh that’s perfect!  Prowl, you can go with Jazz and he can carry the Vosian Ale -” Carrier was shoving a similar sized basket into Jazz’s arms, “ - and I’ll stay here and put in another tray of baked jellies to replace the ones that burned!  I’ll see you both there!”

Then Carrier was gone and he was left standing across from a gorgeous mech holding a picnic basket.

“We’ll talk ‘n drive,” Jazz said, nodding his helm toward the path back to the main road.  “I wanna hear more about ya, Officer Prowl.”

0-0-0

“- and even if the statistics didn’t indicate it would be putting such a high number of sparklings and youngling at risk, the law is unethical.  It is dangerous.  It increases the pressure on non-standard frame types and prevents bots with standard frames from fully understanding the situation.  Without a solid grounding, bots will be more easily misled by outdated functionalist ideals and propaganda.”

Jazz had politely asked about Prowl’s thoughts on the new Act.  Prowl was halfway through his rant, complete with references.

They had only been driving for five minutes.

“Ah, but what about all the bots that the Act protects?” Jazz asked, his amusement coming through the comms clearly.  “We don’t want standard frame sparklings feeling guilty or having uncomfortable questions -”

“They didn’t!  They never have!  At no point has the Senate or any of the governors been able to produce ANY statistics on that nor were they able to prove that it was harmful.  The statistics - which educators have been collecting for four generations with double-blind studies and longitudinal studies - indicate that mixed frame type classrooms have lower instances of bullying, lower instances of depression, AND HIGHER SCORES!  They score HIGHER on the tests!  All of them!”

“Careful, sweetspark, ya wanna slow down on these country roads,” Jazz said, driving closer to push him away from a pothole in the middle. 

 Prowl slowed down.  

“I usually go to the Station racetrack when I’m angry,” he confessed.  “But there is nowhere out here to safely race.”  Well, maybe it was more than anger making his frame heat.

“Oh, there’s a couple a’ places.”

Prowl revved his engine.  “I said safe places.  I know all about those back country roads with their twists and hazards and mud.”

Jazz laughed.  Prowl would really like to keep making him laugh.  Possibly forever.

“And you?  What is your opinion on the Act?”  Prowl had a guess, but he was curious to hear what Jazz said.

He was silent for a moment as they drove.  Prowl took the time to admire the patterns the light cast on Jazz’s altmode as it cascaded through the aluminum trees’ branches.

“I look standard,” he said at last.  “I can pass.  But it ain’t right.  Don’ wan’ the non-standard bitlets ta be scared.  I wouldn’t trade my friends - the ones tha’ can’t pass - for the world.  Don’ wan’ some other bitlet missing out jus’ ‘cause the grown ups won’ teach ‘em right.”

They let the silence fall between them as they drove.

0-0-0

The party was just as horrible as Prowl had predicted.  Many bots who had questions about living in “the city” as if it was on the other side of the planet instead of two days drive.

Two other bots asked him about the Act - news traveled fast in the country where every day brought a new teatime visit and new gossip - but both regretted it.  They’d clearly been under the impression that Prowl was a poor youngling, misguided by the big city.  Neither of them lasted past the first three bullet points of his rant, quickly making excuses and hurrying away.

Prowl counted it as a win.  His Carrier at his side pretended not to hear any of it.

In such a small community, grievances cut more deeply.  Once he left, they would all politely pretend that he hadn’t verbally ripped those bots apart.  They would ask Carrier about him and pretend to be overjoyed at whatever news he gave.

Reason number 438 why he hated the country.

The only part he was enjoying - besides the crystal which were stunning - was watching Jazz move through the crowds.

They were all clustered on the tin grass lawn in front of the house.  To his left was the entrance to the formal gardens, but there were small sprays of crystal lining the walkway and the along the edges of the house.

Jazz fluttered from group to group, changing his manners with each one.  With the elderly group of bots sitting by the buffet table he was charming and gentile.  Every movement was grace.  He moved over to what his Carrier called “idiots with guns” and he stood straighter, laughed louder and more obnoxiously.  He touched the other bots more - slapped a squat femme on the shoulder and laughed at her joke - and stood closer.

With the sparklings he became a sparkling and it got Prowl right in the center of his spark.

Prowl stuffed more baked jellies into his mouth and pretended to be studying the large Malachite by the garden entrance so on one would try talking to him.

A little while later, Jazz sidled over, one servo cradling a cube, the other swinging freely instead of behind, held stiffly behind his back, as was proper.  He smiled at Prowl as he got closer.

“Hello, Jazz.”  Jazz stood next to him and surveyed the party.  He took a sip of the cube.

“Hey, so, ya wanna sneak off and make out in the gardens?”

It was said so casually that it took Prowl an extra .023 kliks to process it.

“Oh, Primus, yes,” he growled.  Jazz stifled a laugh, but his optics danced and flickered behind his visor.

“Awesome.  I’ll go ‘n make our excuses ta the host - can’t wait ta see how the peridot has grown, oh the rose quartz is so pretty, blah blah.  Be righ’ back.”  He handed Prowl his cube and made his way over to the largest gossiping group as quickly as he could without drawing attention.

Prowl lifted the cube to his mouth automatically and then stopped.  It wasn’t his.  But….

He took a sip anyway.  It felt more intimate than half the interfacing he’d done in the past ten vorns.  He caught Jazz looking back at him as he spoke, servos fluttering through the air as he explained their leaving to the host.

Jazz smirked.

Prowl’s chest heated as his spark spun faster.