#the poetry they write me is literally enough to make me fall to my knees

[passi0np1t]

i am

SOOOO

fucking in love w my partner omg

[lordabovehelpme]

Big Bear- Clyde Logan x Reader

Request: So we all know how the best nickname for Clyde is Bear. But how about the first time reader called him that? It doesn’t have to be a whole fic, it can totally be a headcanon or just a thought! Love you! - anon

A/n: Ahhh I love this!!! And I love you for sending this in!! I hope you enjoy! 

Summary: Everything he does reminds you of a bear, but you’ve never told him. What happens when the little nickname slips one night? 

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As soon as the comparison crosses your mind, it never leaves. It just makes so much sense. The way he get’s all huffy and rumbly in the mornings. Those pillowy lips of his pushed out into a pout and his eyes half closed yet sparkling when they see you. His grumbles will thunder down the halls as he tries to find you. Every morning it makes you think of a bear waking from hibernation a little too early. And every morning you’ll cup his cheek and stand on your tiptoes to press a kiss to that pout. And his pout will slowly turn into a small smile.

It’s the way his giant hand wraps around your own, in fact your whole hand can fit in his palm. When he offers his hand out to you, you have to bite back your giggles at how he seems so similar to a bear offering his paw. And it’s not only his hands, it’s also his feet. Those large feet carrying him all around the world and barely fitting into his shoes. They also remind you of paws.

Then it’s the way he hugs you. Those big arms wrapping around your form and pulling you into a strong chest. If he’s behind you, he will rest his chin on the top of your head. Most often he’ll let an overdue sigh escape and relax around you, content with your touch. And if you could see his face, you would see closed eyes and a lazy smile. But if he’s facing you, then a kiss is pressed to your forehead before you are fully pulled in. Then he’ll tug you impossibly close to him and nearly tuck you away into his embrace. Your arms wrap around his waist and slide under his shirt, your nails lightly scratching at his back. Shivers will run up and down his spine and you’ll be pulled even closer, a purr vibrating from beneath his chest.

It’s also the way he eats. It’s like you never feed the man or like he’s never eaten before. He will shove as much as food as he can into his mouth and eat it so quickly. It’s a miracle he hasn’t choked and died yet. But you don’t mind it as much when he’ll give you a thumbs up, his eyes closed from happiness, and a smile with his cheeks puffed out with your cooking concoctions.

But all that good hearty food leads him to look like a bear. His shoulders are wide and nearly take up an entire doorway, muscle cushioning the bone and making a perfect spot for your head to lean on. His chest is broad and strong, pecs pulled taut and slightly protruding from his favorite (and your favorite) shirts. But when he takes those long deep breaths, he swells with air and grows before your eyes, you can’t deny the heat that rises to your cheeks.

However, your most favorite part (if you can even choose) is his tummy. It’s so soft that you literally cannot wait to run your hands over it every night. He’s fed well and you love that it shows. He used to hate it when you first started dating. You would wake up to find him gone, putting himself through various workouts, trying to burn it off. But over years of you telling him how much you love it and how it’s nothing to be ashamed of, he’s grown to like it. It tells you that he’s healthy and loved. And you both know he can’t refuse your baking, especially when you make those gooey apple pies.

The funniest comparison you’ve found though, is the way he sits. The way his entire body will fill any chair and his shoulders kind of slump. But it’s most apparent when he sits backwards on chairs, large thighs surrounding the back and his arms resting on his knees. One time when the two of you were watching a National Geographic Documentary on bears, they showed a scene of a bear sitting in a field. You happened to have looked over at Clyde during that scene, and had to bite your lips to stop from laughing. He was sitting in the exact same position. Your head went back and forth from the TV screen to your man bear on the couch, giggles hidden behind your hands. You could have put their pictures next to one another and said “Spot the difference.” Although, that wouldn’t have really worked because there was no difference.

But there’s something about how warm and cozy he is that really puts the icing on the cake. Countless nights you have found him on the couch, book in his large paw and cooling mug of tea on the small coffee table. And countless times he’s just lifted his arms as you’ve crawled onto his lap, he’ll set his book down on the armrest and drape a blanket around you, tucking in all the corners. Then, without a word, he’ll go back to his book and his arms will hold you close. Sometimes, if you ask, he’ll read aloud to you, deep voice grumbling out poetry and old english in his little drawl. You can feel it rumbling around in his chest and it draws your eyelids to shut. The scent of woods and faint cigarettes mixed with the warmth of his embrace makes you fall asleep in seconds. You’ll nuzzle further into his hold and his shortened forearm will trail up and down your back, caressing you as you drift off.

In your mind, clyde is a bear and there is no other option.

However, you haven’t told him of this comparison yet. Pet names aren’t uncommon between the two of you, he’s always calling you one, “Sweetpea, suga’ plum, sweet’eart, and his favorite, darlin’.” But something about comparing him to a wild animal is keeping you from telling him. Maybe it's the fear of him not liking it, maybe it’s just embarrassment, whatever it is, you don’t know.

The first time it slipped was a late night at the bar. Clyde made you fancy cocktails that were way too good and he looked even better. Your thoughts started to come out unfiltered and you could tell he was getting a kick out of it.

“Darlin’ I think that’s enough fer ya.” He said with a chuckle making his voice even deeper.

You let your lips push into a pout as you stared up at him with your best version of puppy dog eyes. “But bear, I’m already going home with you, one more won’t hurt.”

He froze, eyes widening but after a second he shook his head and let a small smile take over his face. “No more fer ya darlin’. I’m sorry, but you’ll thank me in the mornin’.”

The two of you never spoke about it.

Well, you didn't speak about it for three days.

He was curled around you that morning, dead to the world as his snores thundered through the house. (Even his snores sound like a bear’s!) You wiggled out of his hold and padded into the kitchen, starting to prepare all the ingredients for omelettes. Mindlessly you hummed a little tune and started to chop some bell peppers.

Suddenly an arm wraps around your waist and pulls you away from the counter, lifting you into the air. You scream and start to kick your legs before loud chuckles come from behind you. Realizing who it is you relax in his hold and frown.

“Clyde, I had a knife.”

“Darlin’ if that's how you fight against a bear, I’ll never be able to take ya campin.”

The amusement is loud and clear in his voice. You know you’ve been caught.

“What do you mean bear? I don’t see any bears.” When worse comes to worst, what do you do?

Play dumb.

It’s also not your fault he sprung this upon you in the early morning. Your brain’s not even awake yet.

He sets you down and you turn around in his hold, eyes wide with faux innocence. His own eyes slightly narrow, but a small smile stays on his lips.

“Hmm.” He stares down at you, silently testing your acting abilities. “Some little birdie told me that ya think I’m a bear.”

“Well obviously the birds around here are terrible at gossip!” You cross your arms and turn back to your peppers.

He lets out a loud hearty laugh. Then he wraps his arms around your waist and sets his chin on top of your head, watching as you try to not fumble and fluster under his gaze.

“I just wanna know why ya said it? And why you’re now denyin’ it.”

You sigh and set the knife down on the counter, looking up and out the small window above the counter. “Promise me you won’t laugh at me?”

“I promise.”

Everything in you screams at you to not tell him. But he said he promised and you know that eventually it would come up again, so why not tell him now?

“Ikindathinkyouactandlooklikeabearsoinmyheadit’sbecomeanicknameforyou.”

He takes a second to think over what you said so quickly. You can practically hear the cogs turning in his head. But with each second that passes, the anxiety bubbles up further in your stomach.

“I like it.”

That is the last thing you expected him to say. “You like it?”

He turns you around so he can look at you. “Yeah, it makes me feel like I can protect ya better. Like a bear.”

Your cheeks hurt from your smile. “Really?”

He swoops down and presses his lips to your own. “Yeah.” His own lips are pulled into a smile. “I’ve got ya darlin’ and now you’ve got yer bear.”

You wrap your arms around his shoulders and press another kiss to his lips. “My big bear.”

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So yeah, I totally was swooning the entire time I was writing this! I hope you enjoyed! 

Please consider reblogging or leaving a comment! It means the world to me and I also love hearing what you all have to say! 

Love forever, Lordy :) 

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Taglist: @jedi-jesi ​@along-the-lines-of-space @madsvano4

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[infinitegalahad]

GENERATION KILL: COMFORTING THERE PARTNER

"This is just me formally submitting a request for that gk boys offering their own forms of comfort fic/ headcanon/ thoughts wtevr. Lol just as a reminder. 😀"@theboardwalkbody

Gif Credit: @ymagor

A/N: You're wish is my command, homes❣️ Here's a little change of pace! @theboardwalkbody inspired this post (and asked it!), so thanks for the Inspo friend! 🤩 I'm doing this for BoB and TP because I'm going through a slight writer's block and instead of thinking about long descriptions, I just wanna so head canons that get a little out of hand. I hope this isn't too ooc😔 Reader has *inserted mental illness* btw, it's up for interpretation! ALSO GN! READER! Enjoy!

Taglist: @theboardwalkbody @contrabandhothead

Masterlist

NATE FICK-

Nate's a calculated person. He can see the patterns in people, things, etc. Like how his father's eyebrows wrinkle when he's excited, or when his mother likes to prep a meal from vegetables to the main course. So when you're happy, sad, whatever-he knows it, and you don't even have to tell him.

He'll come home and see you. He knows that you've heard him calling you're name, but you don't move. He looks all over the house and finds you inside of your tub, just sitting there with no response. The water is running, and your clothes and hair are soaked.

So in an attempt to not disrupt your peace, Nate climbs in and sits next to you. You look over and he's stares at you. Just as your about to speak, he beats you to it.

"I'll get you a towel and some clothes."

And then, he just leaves. You hear the door quietly shut, and you blink for a few seconds. What the hell just happened? It snapped you out of your depressive trance. Now instead of feeling sad-you just were confused.

So you hear the door lightly open again and then close. After a few more minutes of soaking, you get out and see a towel and a set of clothes that are most certainly not yours. It's Nate's Dartmouth Lacrosse sweater and a pair of underwear-he knows you too well.

So you exit the bathroom and you see Nate, putting two cups down of you're favorite tea

And he's got that face. You know the face were he's like ☹️

"Hey, c'mere."

The two of you climb into bed with eachtoher. He throws one of those ugg blankets over you. You rest his head in his chest and he pats your head. There's a silence, until Nate says, "Do you wanna walk about it."

Normally, you'd say no and he'd read you a book you're reading or hold you as you cry, but this time, it's different.

"Yeah, I do. You won't judge, right?"

Nate tilts you chin up, and he's got a tired smile on his face.

"Why would I?"

BRAD COLBERT-

Brad may appear horrible with emotions and reading the room...in which he isn’t

Okay, scratch that. He tries to understand them, it’s just hard for him to give advice and use words to comfort you. He feels like he’s walking on glass, But sometimes, you just need him psychically more then anything.

When you storm out of a room when Chaffin makes a comment on your weight, Brad takes a few minutes to think what he should do.

Normally, he’d just leave you be, but he’s gotta do something. Getting up, he follows you down the hallway. You’re not far, and he’s calling you’re name.

You stop in the hallway, wiping the tears coming down toye face. Brad turns you around with his hands on your shoulder. He’s got a blank face on as he looks at you, seeing your red face and the tears.

While you sob and stutter, he fixes the collar of your shirt, tucks your hair behind your ear, which is normal. He likes to neaten you up to make you feel better.

But he starts to use his thumb, wiping the tears coming down your face. You shocked as he cups your face, making you look into those icy cold eyes. He looks like the Iceman, cold and emotionless, but what he says very Brad.

“You’re beautiful.”

Then he pulls you into a tight grasp. He’s a whole foot taller then you, and you like the way he snakes his hands around his waist and slightly lifts off you your feet. His sheer presence is intimating, but for you; comforting. 

RAY PERSON-

THIS MAN. although a hick with a big mouth, he does know when to shut up and can read you’re emotions like the back of his hand.

He can just see the sadness swelling in your eyes and the way you pick at the foot at your plate and avoid all of needs for cuddles in bed. Heck, it’s making Ray sad.

So he does what he does best-not shutting up, well-about things he likes about you.

“Man! Look at my hot girlfriend/wife! There reading books by the liberal media, total smartie here! Oh! And they have a degree from-“

Ray will also beg for to your attention and follows you around like a puppy. Like you’ll be sitting on the couch and he’ll come rest his head on your lap. You ignore him, but he starts to twist and quote random movies so you finally give in.

Is Ray annoying? Yes. But did he make you smile? Also yes.

Also Ray is a cook, and knows all of your favorite meals. Of course, he sets the table, lights a few Mantown candles (yes there real google them), and comes to serve your meal with two plates.

“The most beautiful man/woman I have ever seen, the love of my life, the apple of my eye, the Avril to my Bizzy D-you’re hot pockets.”

It makes you laugh, which makes Ray happy. He feeds off of that attention. You sit in Ray’s lap, eating hot pockets, and watching The Best Damn Tour. You lean on Ray’s shoulder, and he leans right back.

POKE ESPERA-

Alexa play Whatta Man’ by Salt-N-Peppa BECAUSE! WHAT! A! MAN!

Poke is one tough mofo. He embodies the meme of “Good morning to my beautiful wife/husband and child everybody else get fucked”.

But like every baddie; baddie’s gotta have soft spots for there bitches. He has two; you and his daughter. And oh god he’s love the two of more then anything in the world.

Poke knows you and his daughter well enough. His daughter first notices that your not as enthusiastic and bubbly, and then she tells Poke. But Poke already knows because he’s observant and very in touch with his emotions.

So when he’s a work; he thinks and does a lot of self reflection. He wonders why you’re upset. Did he cause it? What can he do to make it better? He asks all the guys for advice, and even his own daughter.

An idea strikes! Poke’s got a lot of anger, so his therapist told him to express his emotions by journalling. But Poke learns that it helps him get everything out of system, so he’s a secret writer. Heck, he even likes poetry; and would kill anyone if they’d find out.

While off at work, small letters start to appear across you’re house. Some are long, some are short, but there sweet and make you’re day.

“I held the stars in my arms wen I held you”

“I can’t wait to kiss you.”

“Your eyes stole all of my words away”

And the covers of the notes are done by Poke’s daughter, covered in glitter and Lisa Frank stickers.

You confront Poke about this “mysterious pen pal” and Poke is like “I mean, your lips do sound tempting”

You know it’s Poke, and he knows it, but there’s something about the mystery that is very romantic.

WALT HASSER-

Here comes our favourie country pumpkin

Now let me say. This man LOVES you more then anything the world

Doesn’t wanna show you off (but he does)

So when you’re the slightest bit sad, Walt is even sadder then you are

Walt is someone that lives to receive attention, and also he’s someone that likes to give it. Especially to the love of his life!

Walt gives you things you actually need, and nothing that is materialistic. Growing up, his parents had a healthy relationship, and the apple clearly doesn’t fall far from the tree.

Waits on you hand and foot. A back massage? Done. A fuzzy blanket? Right on it! A specific burger from a joint that is thirty minutes away at three in the morning? Walt’s driving like a manic just for you. You have the man’s undivided attention.

“Walt?”

He stops whatever he’s doing and runs over, getting on his knees, “Yeah, what’s up baby?”

“Can you sing the song? Y’know, our song?”

Walt nods his head, now an eager puppy, and gets his gutair to play the song he wrote especially for you. And this is making me realize how painfully single I am oh my

RUDY REYES-

Rudy has an iv of respect woman/men juice. He always understands the assignment-and desires extra credit.

So whenever you’re down in the dumps, Rudy will drop everything and drag you into the car to go walk on his favorite trail. It’s ten miles long, but Rudy is a fitness freak.

First, you hate doing it. But the more you talk these long walks, the more you begin to enjoy it.

Sometimes there silence. Rudy won’t speak force you to talk. Talking is stressful, and Rudy will wait until you’re ready. The two of you holds hands, and Rudy has such a calming presence. It’s really hard to get angry at him.

You finally speak and tell Rudy you’re problems, and he listens and doesn’t interrupt. He’s got a hand on you’re lower back, or on your thigh. He’s basically you’re emotional support teddy bear and will always be a lending ear, or a total cuddle monster.

Rudy has the best advice as well. It’s always some yoga shit, but damn, those breathing  exercises do actually help.

EVAN “Q-TIP” STAFFORD-

Oh Q-Tip. My feral goblin son😭

I love him, but sometimes-things can fly over his head.

But when you start to ignore him and hide away from him, he begins to notice. And he HATES IT.

Like Christianson will ask him if he’s okay and he’ll literally quote a 2pac song and be like,

“I would drop all my girls for you, Walk barefoot 'round the world for you, Fly around like the birds for you, Thats why I wrote these words for you..”

Lilley is like “Brah we gotta help a homie out”

So the three stooges create Lovegate. The mission? to make Q-Tip’s partner happier.

Q-Tip is very artistically inclined. So with Christenson’s editing skills and Lilley’s camera, Q-Tip writes you a song and does a whole music video.

The man rents out a movie theatre venue just to show you. Of course, you’re blown away. It’s horrible and you can taste the autotone, BUT IT’S THE EFFORT THAT COUNTS. and q-tip has that smile on. you know what i’m talking about!

Doc Bryan walks in on the two of you making out and is pissed since all he wanted to do was see the re-screening of Bridemaids but NO, Q-Tip just had to rent out a theatre to show his partner a music video about them and then make out.

He see’s Lilley, who’s recording and asks to interview what Doc’s opinion on the music video, and this is what he’s says.

“I think my ears bled, but thank fuck those two aren’t acting like emo’s.”

DOC BRYAN-

The gif has a purpose. Trust me. SPEAKING OF THE MAN OF THE HOUR

Bryan, like Poke, is a very observant guy. He’s an angry motherfucker, and even a little insensitive, but ever since dating you; he’s tried to change.

He hates the world. People are shitty, and it makes him feel shitty that you’re sad because when you feel shitty, he’s in a shitter mood then he’s usually in

Knowing that his words might sound a little harsh, Byran knows how to distract you. Without words. After all, he didn’t work out for nothing.

Long hugs are you’re thing. The two of you will run into eachother, find a private place, and he’ll just wrap his arms around you. His big arms are protective, and he’s warm, and you just sink into him.

Sometimes, you’ll fall asleep. Byran sometimes will fall asleep with you, other times he’ll gently lay you down and put a blanket with a gentle forehead kiss.

When you cry in his arms, he’ll wipe the tears away. He can feel them against his arm, and he doesn’t know what to do. Crying girls/guys are not his speciality.

But when you squeeze his arm back, to let you know what your there and that you love him, Byran will freeze. He has no idea what to next with words. He’ll put his hand over yours, and turns out; it works well.

After this is all over, he’ll check up on you and ask you simply if you’re okay. You respond with a smile. Byran isn’t one for smiles, but for you, he shows a subtle smile back. Just to let you know.

[pascalpanic]

He is My Home (Din Djarin x f!Reader)

Summary: Din’s going to have a nasty scar from the wound on his side, just like the ones you have, the ones you’re insecure about.

W/C: 2.3k

Warnings: light mentions of blood and injuries. mentions of birth. scars (none are explicitly from SH) are mentioned.

A/N: Fluffy Din can I get a hell yeah?? @binarydanvvers sent me this request and it’s absolutely precious so I’m really happy I got to write it. I hope y’all will love it too!!

Din Djarin’s body is defined by his scars, even if few or no other living beings have seen them.

The very first scar on Din’s body came from his birth. Vha Djarin’s baby came out happy and healthy, but an apprentice midwife with an unsteady hand nicked the child’s skin with her blade as she severed the umbilical cord. That’s where the small white line above his belly button comes from.

The other scars include various missions, combat as a young adult, some nearly mortal wounds. There’s a scar across the bridge of his nose from some mission where he was fighting for your little green son’s life. There’s a long line along his forearm from a slice due to an opponent’s blade, on the underside, where the beskar didn’t protect him.

Everything about Din is beautiful to you. Even his name is so beautiful to say- Din Djarin. It sounds like poetry in his mother tongue’s accent. You’ve married him, become his riduur. You see his face daily, the face he was so scared to show you.

Din had feared you’d find him ugly. That you’d think him unlovable, that his nose was too big and eyes too deep-set, his entire body and even his soul too scarred. It wasn’t until after your wedding, when you removed his helmet and cried in joy, that his fears were cast away. You pressed your forehead to his and cupped his face and genuinely told him that you couldn’t imagine a more beautiful man, a more handsome and wonderful Mandalorian behind that beskar.

That night was spent exploring each other’s bodies now that you had total and complete access to Din’s body. It wasn’t entirely sexual, though much of it was; you just felt his abs and his arms and his warm skin beneath yours, and he did the same to you.

Your life has been perfect for the past few months as Din’s riduur. You get to see his face every day, kiss the scar on the bridge of his beautiful nose. You have the privilege of rolling over in bed and seeing his sleeping face, his brow furrowed even in his sleep. You get to see his little green son squeal in excitement when he gets to see his daddy’s face, the way the three small green fingers of each hand grab at one stubbly cheek.

Din is equally as happy. Being with you allows him to be a human again; it allows him to be Din, not Mando. Your warm arms around him in the middle of the night stall the nightmares of the siege of his hometown and the kills he committed and the way the pile of Mando helmets looked in the corner of the covert.

Of course, practicality dictates Din still must work. As a bounty hunter’s riduur, your options are really either to be a bounty hunter too, or a stay at home buir to your little green son. As you have next to no fighting skills, you stuck with the role that introduced you to your husband in the first place: interplanetary nanny to your bug-eyed baby boy.

You enjoyed the pretend domesticity, but you also appreciated the charm of the fact that home is literally where you make it with the Razor Crest: on any planet, moon, or space station. Your home travels with you, your home is wherever the Crest is tonight.

Even before you found the Crest, Din has been your home. He’s your place and your person, ever since the first time someone threatened you and Din shot them dead where they stood and you stared for a second in utter terror they’d jerk back to life before running into his arms and burying your head in the skin between his helmet and his cape. And that’s when you realized that Din’s arms were your safe place, the one place nothing can hurt you. Not when Din is protecting you.

Tonight more than ever, you miss Din’s arms. He took a honeymoon phase of one or two bounties a month after your riduurok, to spend time with you and the child and your newly formed, legally Mandalorian family. Your aliit, your clan. All good things must come to an end, though, and Din was back into his hunting. It’s been a week without him. Your beskar ring feels cold on your finger tonight as you trace your hand over the etched mudhorn in the wedding band.

Your green baby is cuddled to your chest, snoozing happily with his mama. You press a kiss to his head, thinking about Din. The child’s father. The little creature radiates warmth and relaxation and hypnotically urges you to fall asleep alongside him. Rest, mama. And you do.

-

The next morning, you startle awake at the sound of beskar clanging against the metal of the ship. “Riduur?” You call out, sitting up excitedly.

“Hi,” he says weakly, and the tone sets panic into your body. You jump out of the bed to find Din kneeling next to the carbonite, a freshly sealed and still sublimating creature trapped in it.

Din clutches his side and you sink to your knees frantically. His orange gloves are covered with blood as one reaches to you. “Din,” you panic, unsure what to do for a moment. “I’m going to go get the medkit. You start undressing now, beskar off, clothes off,” you order him and get to your feet. You pull out a cot and pop it open. “Lay here and wait for me.”

You fly into a tizzy around the ship, grabbing the various things you need. Bacta, needles, bandages, the official medkit. Good. You return to his side, where he lies in his boxers and helmet. “Baby,” you coo gently and remove the helmet. “Just me, remember?”

“Yeah,” he chuckles, dazed eyes looking up at you. His dark hair is drenched in his sweat, and there’s a trickle of blood from his lip.

You fly into action. “Bacta’s going in first, love. Going to jab it in, get ready.” He softly nods and makes a whimper as you stab the needle in, pushing down the plunger and emptying the syringe into his body.

He’s numb now. You wipe the wound and grab the cauterizer. “You might feel this, Din. It’s gonna be quick, I promise.” He doesn’t even respond, eyes shut. You use it and he twitches, his face cringing in pain.

“I know, I know. Doing so good, almost- there we go,” you sigh as the wound is finished cauterizing. “You did wonderfully, my warrior. Providing for us no matter the cost,” you tell him and press a soft kiss to his forehead.

You press a large gauze patch and bandage over his wound, to ensure it stays clean. “Okay, okay baby. You can sleep now. Did so good for me, my strong man,” you mumble, cupping his face.

“You did all the work,” he mutters, a soft smile on his face. The medication wipes him out into a deep sleep.

-

Bacta isn’t a miracle drug. It can’t save you from certain death, can’t reverse the growth of diseases that have already infiltrated. The miracle, really, behind Bacta, is how quickly it works. It heals wounds that would take weeks in days, and days in hours.

When Din wakes later, the cauterized wound has shrunken exponentially. He’s still got lots of bruises and nicks, but he’s better. There’s a familiar hum, the soft roar of hyperspace surrounding the Crest.

He sits up with minimal pain and looks around. There’s a soft light coming from the bunk, where you and the baby sleep. The light is for the child. He’s scared of too much dark; you’d learned that especially in the days where the hull would be coated in blackness in order for you and Din to kiss and touch and love. Your face is peaceful as you sleep, and Din looks at you with all of the love in his heart.

He stands, albeit slowly, and walks to the bunk with a jerking and awkward stance. He just wants you, your softness and warmth. It’s common that he’ll sneak into bed with you after a mission or piloting the ship, or simply because you took a nap and he just needed some sweetness in his day. You instinctually nuzzle into him, attracted to his warmth. The child follows suit, nestling between the two of you. His two favorite people in all of the galaxy, his buirs.

The three of you are at peace, in your home: with each other. You roll over as you notice the warm presence and a small smile graces your slowly waking face. “Mm, riduur. You were supposed to be on the cot,” you chuckle softly and press a kiss to the tip of his nose.

“Bacta fixed me up enough.”

“You’re gonna have a nasty scar,” you chuckle softly.

“I’ve got plenty of those already. What’s one more?” He asks, nudging your face with his nose.

It’s unbearably soft and warm. “Scars seem to be our problem,” you nod in agreement.

He pulls away and looks at you, in the soft blue glow of the baby’s nightlight. “Cyare, scars aren’t a problem. They’re reminders, of everything we’ve been through and will prevail through in the future.” He kisses your collarbone softly, setting your child aside.

You frown. “Doesn’t mean I like them. They’re gross.”

Din’s frown matches yours. It’s a warm night in the Crest, leaving you sleeping in just a breastband and a pair of shorts. He can see the scars littering your abdomen, the ones you’re so insecure about. “Tell me about them.”

“Din,” you pout.

“We are one when together, we are one when parted,” he mumbles, scooting down to press a kiss to one scar. Your wedding vows, the ones you took and meant with all of your soul. “Your pain is mine, my love. Tell me about this one,” he says, a featherlight fingertip tracing the line.

You sigh, making your abdomen inflate and deflate deeply beneath him. “I was 11 cycles old when I got that one. My appendix ruptured, they had to remove it.”

He nods and kisses along the scar, big brown eyes looking up at you. “I see. And this one?” He asks.

You chuckle softly. “This is from when I was stupid enough to sleep in just a breastband and shorts, like this, and I rolled over on green bean and his claw stabbed me.”

Din recalls. He chuckles happily at the memory and presses a kiss to the scar, his fingers still tracing the last one. There’s one on your knuckles. He takes your hand and traces it, looking at you. Silently asking.

“Lothcat bite. They’re not as cute and docile as they look,” you nod as Din’s lips ghost over your fingers.

You think about the places you got those childhood scars. All at home. The newer one? From your newer home. Yes, your old home may have scarred you, most certainly physically and maybe mentally or emotionally, but they left their mark on you. Your eyes water as you look down at Din. “Your turn,” you tell him and push him down into the mattress of the bunk.

There’s been one you’ve always meant to ask him about. You straddle his hips and sit between his groin and his navel. “What is this one?” You ask of a little mark above his navel. It’s a stark white, contrasting his skin.

“My birth. A midwife nicked me while severing the umbilical cord. I’ve heard that my mother was ready to take the surgical tools herself and go after her,” he chuckles.

You smile softly. There’s a scar on his cheek and your fingertips slowly draw the outline of it. He nods. “As a teen, obviously. Before the helmets went on. Close call with a spear,” he admits, a soft smile on his face. “Those are the only fun ones. The rest are from bounties,” he admits.

You chuckle softly. “Fun ones?” You tease.

“Interesting, I suppose,” he admits, taking your fingertips from his scar to rest them on his lips, kissing them then just holding your hand. “Do you see, my love?” He asks.

You simply nod, eyes watering again. Din reaches up and wraps you in his arms, lowering you to lie chest to chest on top of him. “You are so beautiful, my love. My riduur,” he mumbles to you. You sigh contentedly and kiss the scar on the bridge of his nose.

“Easy for you to say. You’re a bounty hunter. These all suit you. Besides the fact that you’re already covered head to toe in beskar, it would just work.”

He frowns. “Cyar’ika. Neither I nor anyone else cares about your scars. They’re part of you; how could I?”

You whimper and bury your head in his neck, allowing yourself to cry. “It’s been a hard day, Din. Please let me have this.”

“I will not. I absolutely refuse to let you think like that,” he tells you and cradles your head. “You can cry all you’d like, riduur, but it won’t change the fact that I find the scars absolutely beautiful. They’re so perfectly you. They’ve made you who you are, the woman I love so dearly. How could they be ugly when they’re made of you?”

His words make you cry harder, and you sob into his bare skin. He strokes your back, allowing you to cry it out. He mumbles sweet words in your ear; just letting it happen.

When you’re finished, you lift your head with a sniffle. “I love you so much, Din. You make me feel like I have a home with you.”

He kisses your forehead softly. “This is your home, my love. Right hear, in my arms, wrapped up with me.”

-

taglist:

@remmysbounty @mishasminion360 @softly-sad @blo0dangel @luxurybeskar @binarydanvvers @sleep-tight1 @apascalrascal @randomness501 @spideysimpossiblegirl

[eggrestes]

ladrien fic recs!

there are SO MANY amazing ladrien fics i cant possibly cover them all but here are a few!

(all the ratings used are ao3 ratings)

((this is a very long post!))

FLUFF

Of Ivy and Sunlight by cyanise [ T, 1509 words, 1/1 ]

When Adrien takes to wandering the streets of Paris in ungodly hours, Ladybug has no choice but to keep an eye on him. Still, things are bound to get a little out of hand between two overloaded teenagers with a lot of love and not enough self-control. 

a lovely post-chat blanc fic :’) it has a great flow and is just soft and so sweet and it’s just perfect. gosh i cannot really say more other than read it!!! also almost all of their other stuff is also ladrien so do check it out!

This can't be happening by PlaPla [ T,  6,467 words, 1/2 ]

Ladybug is unsure whether accompanying Adrien to a gala as his not-date is the best or worst thing that has ever happened to her. But when their table mates turn out to be none other than her long time friends Alya and Nino and with Adrien acting weirder and weirder she finds herself with bigger worries than an unrequited crush.

a djwifi/ladrien double date? hit me up! i love identity shenanigans, ball dancing, ladrien, and djwifi and this is a perfect mix for me. i know it’s incomplete but it doesn’t end in a cliff-hanger really, the part 2 is just a promise of more so it doesn’t feel incomplete! PlaPla also has a short oneshot of ladrien going for a motorcycle ride.

Falling again by emsylcatac [ M,  4,506 words, 2 Works ]

They had been dancing around each other for a while now, and while fifteen year old Adrien would have been ecstatic at the idea of dating Ladybug in secret, twenty-two year old Adrien knew better. But Ladybug wasn’t making it easy. It was like… she, too, was falling for him. And that surprisingly enough, she didn’t mind.

* * *

Or Adrien trying (and failing) to keep things professional between him and Ladybug when the two of them partner up for a mission. Older AU

things are a little steamy~ here (don’t worry, it’s only implied it’s very mild and closer to a T rating than the M) but it’s a great mature take on their dynamics! emsy has more ladrien one-shots in her collection of one-shots!

i'd love to go on a date with you by sae_what  [ G,  6,480 words, 1/1 ]

Once it had been falsely announced throughout Paris that Adrien and Ladybug are in a relationship, Ladybug pays him a visit to turn him down gently.

Only, she doesn’t. And instead, she has a formal dinner date. With Adrien. At 8 pm. Tonight.

LADYBUG IN A SUIT!! aaaaaaaaaaaaaa. okay but for real it’s so sweet and also??? they are on a date!!! a rooftop date!! (too man exclamation marks oops)

Always Welcome by  chatonne-rousse [ T, 1,683 words, 1/1 ]

Ladybug knows that Adrien's window is always open for her to swing by and stop in, whether for video games or a chat or, like tonight, for soft kisses and sweet nothings.

He loves these visits. His girlfriend is always welcome. Always. (Especially for kisses.)

Written for Ladrien June, day 8: bluebell eyes.

established relationship, pre-reveal ladrien. there is something very home-y about this fic and it’s all about the comfort and quiet that i adore about it!

Five Times Gabriel Agreste Caught Ladybug in His Son’s Bedroom (and the One Time He Caught Chat Noir) by agrestenoir [ T,  1,923 words, 1/1]

Gabriel Agreste keeps finding Ladybug in his son's bedroom. As a super villain and father, this will not stand.

this crack fic is... honestly so hilarious. it’s all through gabrie-i-am-trying-to-parent-and-failing-a-lot-agreste’s POV so it is so much ridiculous! 

an uncurtain discovery by  Missnoodles [ T, 4,684 words, 1/1 ]

When he returns from school on Wednesday afternoon, Adrien discovers the darkness in his own home. He struggles to come to terms with it. To his utter mortification and delight, Ladybug is nearby to rescue him.

(He does not discover that his father is supervillain. That will happen on a different Wednesday.)

Adrien is being a cat and gets tangled in the curtains on his window and it’s utterly ridiculous. all the bug and the cat tendencies make it funnier and adrien’s inner monologue is just a cherry on top!

secret valentine by a_miiraculer [ T,  12,245 words, 1/1 ]

this is the moment that we will come alive brace yourself for love sweet love, secret love

If Adrien had known that getting himself stuck in a tree would end like this, he would've gotten himself stuck sooner.

A drabble series.

i just,,,, don’t have words for how much i love it! it’s ridiculous, it’s cute, it’s funny, it’s whole-some and just ladrien. the writer also has a M rated multi-chapter ladrien kissing (no the M is very much real here) and a heroic adrien and ladybug one-shot too! 

Those Benevolent Stars by peachcitt [ G,  23,696 words, 3/3 ]

“Will you come back?”

She looked up at the deep blue sky, as if she could somehow find the answer there. “I shouldn’t,” she said, shaking her head and looking back at him. But the stars were still there, caught in her eyes, and Adrien persisted.

“But will you?”

or

adrien meets his soulmate, a thief who calls herself ladybug. he falls for her, but she seems determined to maintain a space between them.

oh my god this au.... just no words!! it’s poetry and it’s tender and it’s about the yearning and just!!! perfect :’). Her current ongoing ladrien june fic is also akin to this (and the fic i linked before it) so do check it out too! (literally check out all of their works it’s so beautiful)

Flowers on the Window Sill by LNC [ G,  2,144 words, 1/1 ]

The first time Ladybug saw him, really saw him, the universe stopped.

this fic feels like poetry and it’s so lovely. LNC is always short and direct but it always hits right in the feels while also being hilarious. Her  other ladrien works are just as good and i highly recommend going through them because it fulfills all of the ladrien needs (along with Reiaji)

whatever a sun will always sing is you by komorebirei [ T,  32,980 words, 37/37 ]

“I didn't think you'd actually... do anything," Adrien admitted, cheeks prickling with warmth. "I-I mean, I never expected... I didn't know you watched my interviews.” That definitely wasn’t how he'd imagined confessing to Ladybug.

“Of course I do!” Ladybug squeaked. “Uhh, that is…” She looked down at her hands, nervously turning her yo-yo over, over and over. “Maybe you’re not the only one with a crush.”

(After an unexpected confession, Ladybug and Adrien start dating in secret. A progressive character- and relationship-study quilted from drabbles, with the intention of digging treasure out of the cove that is Ladrien. Written using kashimalin-fanfiction's kiss writing prompts from Tumblr.)

it does such an excellent job at exploring this dynamic along with the characters. it’s such a sweet fic, each chapter short and fun!

ANGST

whose woods these are (I think I know.) by  Reiaji [ T,  105,000 words, 25/25 ]

Four years after his future turns to cinders, Adrien is a servant in the house he was meant to inherit. Disowned by his father and abused by his stepmother, his days are filled with drudgery until he meets a masked huntress in the forest behind his father's chateau.

As his friendship with Ladybug turns to first love, he dreams of a future spent at her side.

Then, on the eve of the Princess's masquerade, he meets his guardian—and is granted a wish.

[Ladrien Cinderella AU]

Warnings: Child abuse, Graphic depiction of violence

this is absolutely gorgeous. it has so many troupes and so many amazing character arc and great build up and everything just flows so well. it left me in awe for weeks and i just. want to experience reading it for the first time again. look at this gorgeous art inspired by this! {and you have to read  leonard bernstein too because LETTERS and LADRIEN and YEARNING}

i would do it again (oh, a thousand times) by bugabisous [ T, 2,266 words, 1/1 ]

Knowing you can bring someone back doesn’t mean you’re free of the pain of seeing them disappear before your eyes. He can’t imagine he’ll be able to look at her directly without replaying every horrifying moment when he felt her slip away in a puff of smoke.

When it happens once again, he already knows he’ll be trying again. He just can’t give up.

it expands on adrien’s feelings in the episode desperada (my beloved <3) and it is just ouch. such great angst, such great potential. the kind of tragedy that it offers is unusual for ml (it gets only rivaled by chat blanc tbh). to rival this angst bugabisous also has a fluffy one-shot :)

when the world gets too heavy (put it on my back) by Taliax [ T, 4,720 words, 1/1 ]

Chat Noir isn't allowed to cry over his father. But even when he's just Adrien, Ladybug won't abandon him.

Hawkmoth reveal hurt/comfort + Ladrien

the plagg and adrien bond written is just perfect, and oh this hits right in the feels :’) it hurts all in the right way. tali also has so many other ladrien works in all genres too

By Your Side by omniousunflower [ T, 4,361 words, 1/1 ]

(Angry and alone, Adrien waits on top of the Eiffel Tower for his lady.)

“So, how did my kitty get stranded up here?” Ladybug asks.

Groaning, Adrien pulls his knees toward his chest and presses his face against them. “Because he’s stupid and impulsive.”

“Chasing pigeons, then?”

“No.” Shame burns in Adrien’s veins, white-hot now that Ladybug is here to witness his stupidity. “I threw my Miraculous, and Plagg wouldn’t get it for me.”

post-hawkmoth defeat, and adrien is not doing well at all. i am cheating because it is post reveal, pre relationship but it’s still ladrien. this fic is a roller coater of emotions, starting from a slightly crack scenario to a cute, awkward, hopeful ending.  More Than You Know is another of sunny’s angsty ladrien work!

Breaking The Rules (AKA The Ladrien Fistfight) by ThisKwamiNeeds_aNap [ T, 8,714 words, 1/1 ]

Marinette may or may not be dying, but she’s still going to do her best to fix every single problem in the world. She’s not expecting Adrien to be the one who tries to stop her. (Takes place immediately after Kwami Buster)

Warnings: panic attack, broken bones, PTSD. please read the tags!

*slaps this fic* this fic can fit in so much angst. it just?? left me in PAIN oof. it says ‘ladrien fistfight’ on the lid but nooo there is marinette is just having a freak out and it’s all so much??!! and it’s not just marinette there is adrien too and chloe and alya and- wow it’s amazing. love it so much it fills up my angst needs :’)

so that’s it for now! my personal commentary isn’t impressive nor does it do justice to the fic but i still hope you read a few of these!! happy reading!!

[rodeoxqueen]

Stuck Thinking Of You-Vergil/Reader

TheLastCrusader Requested: Dante or Vergil gets immobilized in some embarrassing or inconvenient way during a job and then (Y/N) pays them company until they can be freed. How about they have a crush on (Y/N) and they don't know it is returned until the end?

Dante’s Version:https://rodeoxqueen.tumblr.com/post/638040898096201728/stuck-thinking-about-you-dantereader

Read Both Versions on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28187496

Warnings: Fluff, Romantic Comedy, Taking Care of The Twins, Vulnerability, Breaking the Fourth Wall, Characters Call Out The Writer for Her Lazy Writing

One Way To Dante's Heart Is His Stomach. For His Brother, It Is Not As Simple.

Slicing through groups of demons while twirling in the air, Vergil obliterated his enemies. He landed deftly onto the blood-soaked ground. His brother Dante had shot through another horde himself. 

After minimal time spent fighting, the infamous duo already prepared themselves to go home, a job well done. 

“You should join a circus for how much spinning and jumping you do.” Dante quipped. Vergil raised a brow. 

“With a face as hideous as yours, you would be an excellent freak show exhibit.” The elder twin snarled. 

Dante laughed, hands on his hips. 

“Oh please, I’m the prettier twin. My hairline hasn’t flinched, unlike yours.” Vergil stilled. 

“I’ll have you know-” Dante saw a demon Vergil had sliced into slowly raising its tail. It was spiked with various deadly purple needles swishing about. Disemboweled yet still alive, it hissed and whipped its tail. A whistle rang through the air as foot-long spikes flew through the air. 

“-Look out!” Dante quickly shot the demon, its head caving in like a rotten pumpkin. Vergil dodged the dart-like appendages, a mildly displeased look on his face. 

“You’re getting sloppy, Vergil.” Dante teased, shaking his coat of any poisonous darts. 

“If you weren’t so exhausting to deal with, I’d-” Vergil suddenly tensed and fell to the ground. He landed knees first before his torso and head slid onto the earth. Dante let out a breath, and then he wheezed out a laugh. 

“Oh my god, Vergil!” Vergil attempted to move from his embarrassing position, face down and rear pointed to the sky. 

“What on earth? I cannot move.” He felt numb as if he had lost control of his form. Had he missed a dart? 

Dante came around his brother’s kneeled over position. Right on his posterior, had a stray dart pierced him. 

“Poor Vergil, as if a stick up your ass wasn’t enough.” Vergil’s sounds of struggle were fruitless as his form was dumbly paralyzed. 

“Don’t you dare say it-” 

“jAcKpOt!” Dante wheezed and held onto his sword to prevent him from falling over and crying with laughter. 

“Help me at once, you oaf!” Vergil exclaimed. Dante wiped away tears of joy. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Whatever.” He vanished The Rebellion and gently kicked his brother to the side. Vergil landed on the dirt looking like he was in a fetal position. Dante continued laughing the whole way down the mountain, carrying Vergil over his shoulder. 

“This is incredibly undignified.” Vergil snarled. 

“Wait till (Y/N) finds out you got shot in the ass-” 

“You will do no such thing!” Vergil exclaimed. 

You were on the couch, reading a book when Dante kicked the door down. 

“Guess whaaaat!” He yelled, holding Vergil over his shoulder. He marched his way over to the beat-up sofa, gesturing for you to move over. You scooched to the end, Vergil was tossed onto the cushions. 

“Vergil, are you alright?” You asked, seeing how he refused to make eye contact with you. 

“Big brother here got jabbed by some demon. He’s not dead yet so I doubt it’s that bad.” 

Dante reached into his pocket, steadily taking out the needle that he took out of Vergil’s behind. 

He threw it like a toy dart and it landed on his desk. 

Vergil remained silent, simply biding his time before he could forget about his embarrassing ordeal. 

“Wouldn’t he be more comfortable in his room?” You asked, knowing Vergil always took to his room after a mission. Despite your many attempts to make conversation, he was quick to leave before any talk could be initiated. 

“Nah, I need you to keep an eye on him. I’m going to do whatever I want now that he can’t stop me.” 

“If you are going out and gorging yourself on those unhealthy sundaes again-” 

Dante made an evil laugh as he ran out of the shop. 

Vergil sighed. This was terrible. He watched as you examined the needle, opening your computer and a few books. 

Half an hour passed of pure silence, you flipping through books and seeing what on earth caused Vergil to stiffen up like a corpse. 

“Vergil, are you alright?” You asked again, seeing how still he was. 

“What does it look like?” He snapped. 

You raised an eyebrow at him. He sighed again. 

“My apologies. I am not very comfortable trapped in my own body.” You nodded. 

“Well, it says here that the demon that poisoned you could kill men in a second upon injection.” 

“Joy.” Vergil deadpanned. You chuckled at his expression. Vergil softened at your laughter. 

“Since you’re still alive, I’m guessing your demon side is working really hard to get all that toxic stuff out of you.” 

“The blood of Sparda will not wane to a petty demon.” He said lowly.

It wasn’t for an hour until Vergil felt his form begin to feel sensation. His hands barely twitched despite the sweat he built up from trying to move. 

Your demon side..

Vergil remembered your comment. A spark of genius hit him. If he devil triggered, he might be able to metabolize the toxins faster. He willed it within himself, grunting and trying to trigger. 

He could feel his senses slightly amplify as if his triggering process was truly forcing the poison out. Suddenly, the warm surge of his blood flowing became known to him. Yes! This was working. 

With more heaving and straining, he felt his arms slowly loosen from his sides and his legs straighten out. 

“Uhhh. Vergil?” Distracted, he felt his muscles tense again and as a final resort, his reflexes rolled him off the couch. The back of his head flared out in pain as he hit the floor.  He laid on the ground, a defeated blue devil. It was pathetic, he couldn’t even trigger his scales to come out. Grumbling, he noticed you standing near him, looking down with concern. 

“Do you need help?”

"It appears that I am stuck."

"Do you want some help?"

"I don't want your help, I’m fine."

"All right, then.”

"...."

“Are you sure you don’t want to be moved?” Vergil sighed and closed his eyes. 

"That..would be preferable.” 

You rolled up your sleeves, ready to lift him up. He smirked. 

“You should have just said so, silly!” You grin as you place your hand on his back and the pit of his knees. 

“I’m afraid I am not that light, surely lifting me would-” He stopped as you literally bridal carried him. 

“-be toiling…..” He flushed at close proximity of you. 

“How are you this strong?” He blurted. 

“The writer wanted to have a reverse damsel in distress scene. I will never exhibit this strength in future plot lines.” You said sweetly, looking at him with a smile. 

Vergil stopped, staring at your face. Although he was stone-faced as usual, his eyes drank in your wonderful features. It took him a minute to realize you had said something. 

“What did you just say?” 

“Hmm? Oh, I was asking if you wanted to be sitting up or on your side.” 

“..Sitting upright would be fine.” 

You placed him on the sofa again. 

“Is there anything you want while you’re in this situation?” Vergil tried to shrug. 

“It’s fine. I will abide by my time.” 

“You don’t have to be bored, I can play something if you want.” 

“Such as what?” You pointed to your computer. 

“I have an audiobook subscription. If you like, I can play some William Blake poetry.” Vergil raised a brow. He had never been an avid user of technology. If he were to hear any recited poetry it’d be from his own whispers. 

“You also read Blake’s works?” 

“I know you do.” Oh, you thoughtful little sparrow. 

“That would be alright with me.” You were quick to type away on your computer to find a recording. Soon, a male voice permeated the air, reading off verses robotically. 

It was a bit of an awkward moment, Vergil’s continued stone face and you observed it gravely. The recording ended shortly as you paused it. 

“You don’t seem to like it.” 

“Poetry should be spoken, not read off of like an instructions’ manual.”

“How would you do it then?” Vergil took his chance. You were not keen on working now, focused on him instead. 

“My book. It’s in my room. Retrieve it and I shall demonstrate myself.” He teased, a ghost of a grin upon his face. Damn this paralysis. 

You left, rounding up the stairs. 

You entered his room, making sure not to knock anything over. Not that you really could, the room was pristine. You easily saw the brown leather book on the dresser. The leather was well-worn and soft to the touch, a single page dog-eared. 

“So, you’re Mr. Poetry, huh?” You teased as you went down the stairs. 

“The one and only.” Vergil did not miss the old reference to Griffon, the dear bird you cried over. 

You made your way to the couch, sitting on the arm of the sofa. 

“Now which page?” You asked. Vergil stared at you.

“Just start from the beginning.” You obediently flipped to the first page. 

“So do you want to read it?” 

“How am I supposed to hold it up?” Vergil smirked at your sputters. 

“I keep forgetting!” You made your way over to him, choosing to sit on the floor by him. 

He cleared his throat. 

“I was angry with my friend:

I told my wrath, my wrath did end.

I was angry with my foe:

I told it not, my wrath did grow

And I watered it in fears,

Night and morning with my tears;

And I sunned it with smiles,

And with soft deceitful wiles.

And it grew both day and night,

Till it bore an apple bright.

And my foe beheld it shine.

And he knew that it was mine,

And into my garden stole

When the night had veiled the pole;

In the morning glad I see

My foe outstretched beneath the tree.” 

Vergil’s voice had a timber, soothing lowness to his usually raspy tone. He was in the zone, eyes blank as he had read this millions of times. 

“It’s a nice poem. It’s a bit brutal though.” You commented. 

“It is.” 

This went on for some time, Vergil reciting while you observed and turned the pages for him. You stopped between to grab yourself and Vergil some water, giving him a blue bendy straw. As the clock hands went around, soon one voice grew the soft company of another. The crest and the trough of tones had embraced, two speakers and one poem. Eventually, you met the unique page from before. 

“The Garden of Love

I went to the Garden of Love.

And saw what I never had seen:

A Chapel was built in the midst,

Where I used to play on the green.

And the gates of this Chapel were shut,

And Thou shalt not, writ over the door;

So I turn’d to the Garden of Love,

That so many sweet flowers bore,

And I saw it was filled with graves,

And tomb-stones where flowers should be:

And priests in black gowns, were walking their rounds,

And binding with briars, my joys ; desires.” 

You tried to copy Vergil, reading off of the page, and avoiding stuttering. The observer shakily held the harp of their own vocal cords, the previous strummer lounging and watching the words take flight above his blue-eyed gaze like flittering sparrows. 

By the time you were finished with the last verse, you turned to see that Vergil’s eyes were directed at you. It’s too bad you didn’t know they were upon you for some time. You gently grazed the dog-eared page. 

“Why did you mark this page?” 

“It is a poem that reminds me of another.” You were slightly puzzled but smiled nonetheless. 

“Well, they’re very lucky to be beheld, I guess.” Vergil stared at you, his eyes bewitched to your profile. With the slope of your face, Vergil swore even the most wonderful sculptors could not capture you to your truest attractiveness. 

“I am luckier to have been in their company for the last few hours.” He rasped. You turned your face, a privilege Vergil wished he could have, to prevent from seeing a negative reaction from you. 

“Me?” You softly said. The book was forgotten, landing on Vergil’s chest. 

“I understand I do not speak to you as much as I wish. I am not as socially affable as my brother. But I do share my affections upon you, in words not of my own. In my most vulnerable, I find cherished company with you.” 

You were quiet. 

“If that’s not the case with you, I am in complete understanding. You are a kind person. You would do the same for my brother if he was in the same situation. I do not wish for this to be ill to our cooperation in this business-” 

“Say less.” You giggled, putting your finger on his lips to shush him. Vergil scrunched his nose as his ears turned red, had he said too much? Had he made a fool of himself? 

Instead, he had seen the color of pink, a shade even the finest roses could not bloom to, appear upon the apples of your cheeks. 

“I like you too, Vergil. I didn’t do all that for you to just be nice. I like getting to know you.” Despite his numbness, his heartbeat in his chest felt like the rain of an angry storm against the earth.

His chapped lips found the capacity to move. 

“Perhaps, when this wretched poison leaves my form, we may find time to do this again.” 

“I’d like that too.” Your eyes squinting with a diamond grin, Vergil made a noise of contentment. 

“It is a day I look forward to-“

“I had so much ice cream today!” Dante yelled as he walked into the shop again. 

“Whoops, you guys look like you were having a nice moment.” Dante winked at Vergil, who growled. 

“Oh hey, Dante!” 

Dante waved at you. 

“I got you guys some dinner since I know (Y/N)’s tired of dealing with shithead here. Vergil couldn’t cook for shit even when he was able-bodied.” 

“I can boil an egg.” Vergil bit back. Dante handed you some Asian takeout, still warm. 

“Don’t worry Verg, I’ll blend yours so you can drink it.” 

“It’s fine, I can help him.” You winked at Dante who waggled his eyebrows. 

The evening ended fairly well. You fed Vergil bits of vegetables and noodles while Dante read his questionable magazines. It was much too late to be going back home, so Dante threw you some blankets and pillows to stay the night. 

Although Vergil offered you his room to rest in, you shook your head. 

“Who’s going to keep you company?” Dante wolf-whistled before retreating to his room upstairs. 

“Leave us!” Vergil exclaimed. You laughed again. 

You turned off the lights and dodged random objects lying around in the dark. You found the familiar softness of pillows and your makeshift bed. 

Vergil fell asleep, feeling wanted. It was a warm sensation that spread to even his fingers, soft and supple. 

He didn’t even notice his hand had come loose and drifted to trace your cheek in both your slumbers. 

[cloud9in]

The Half of It

A Mc x Poppy fic inspired by the film 

Summary: Bea, the town’s outcast is recruited by the school jock to win Poppy’s heart. But what happens when she starts falling for her as well?

Author’s Note: So this will be a multiple part series that includes scenes heavily inspired from the movie “The Half of It”. I certainly recommend watching it. My version will have different twists and a different ending, and definitely more angst. It will include mature themes as the story progresses.

Warnings for this chapter: Swearing. This is a good thing for now.

Chapter 1- 

“Love is simply the name for desire and pursuit of the whole.”

                                                   - Plato, The Symposium

It is said that when one half finds its other, there’s an unspoken understanding. A unity. And each would know no greater joy....than this. 

 ...Except this is highschool. And in my opinion, there is no other half. Maybe the other half is a paper on Greek God philosophy due at midnight. But make that four papers, including mine. 

 My name is Bea Hughes and let’s just say...this is not a very happy story. Well maybe some parts are, but you’ll have to read to find out. I come from a small town called Farmsville, and when I mean small, I mean really small. Except the highschool seems fucking huge, with never ending hallways and when you do somehow find the end, there’s usually two inbreds eating each others mouths off. Lucky for me I am the epitome of antisocial, reserved, an introvert, or whatever the inferior beings, aka every other senior, calls me when they think I can’t hear. But I hear everything, including that one time Bradley Denbrough, upcoming hotshot actor, or so he claims, found out about a crush a poor unsuspecting freshman had on him. Everybody knew what Bradley and his goons did to that boy, even the adults, but no charges were pressed. This town is as conservative as it gets, but no one knows of my secret. I carry this school on my back when it comes to having everyone graduate, but that’s all I am to them, a pawn. And that’s all I wanted to be, nothing more and nothing less. I preferred to be in the shadows. 

 ***

 ...Except the mandatory Senior Talent Show forced Bea out of her hibernation hole. The thought haunted her as she sat in the dance studio, the last fucking place she wanted to be. Dance was so not a Bea kinda thing, but the blonde knew exactly why she granted herself the misery of picking the class. Poppy Min Sinclair, the golden girl of Farmsville High, the preacher’s daughter on a more serious note. She is...the most fascinating girl Bea ever laid her eyes on even if her boyfriend was a complete asshole who sermonized his duties as her future husband. Like seriously? Poppy has got to have some screws loose to date such a fake loser who plagiarizes all of his speeches at sunday church, and once literally begged Bea to write an apology letter to his father for him after completely upending their summer cabin. Except the blonde wrote the opposite of an apology, it went something like this…

 Dear beloved donkey, I mean dad,

 I am terribly sorry for inviting 20 hookers to the summer cabin. I have these strange impulses and you should at least be grateful I didn’t invite the big boss as well. His wife came though, in many, many ways. You should get the carpet changed. 

 Sincerely, your STD free son

 It was safe to say that Mr. Denbrough had a near heart attack after reading it, and Bea did kinda feel bad, kinda. He never mentioned the letter to Bradley though, instead silently calling up the owner of Teopoli Catholic Summer Camp and essentially deporting the boy to Canada for the summer. No son of his would end up in hell was what the old man preached everyday from then on. It was the quietest summer Bea had ever experienced. 

 Being the towns outcast, Bea could have her fun when she so chooses to, but that didn’t pay the bills. In fact, the multiple essays that people paid her to write was her way of surviving and taking care of her mother. They weren’t very rich but Bea worked with what she had, helping her mother manage the farm, which included getting on her knees and wrestling the pigs. And that’s how she was gifted the name “pig girl”, stupid Bradley and his fake friends just had to wander too far and catch Bea in the act. She swore a remixed video of her hog calling surfaced the web at one point and that gave the blonde her five minutes of fame. Boy was it an awful time in her life. 

 Bea worked her mother’s previous job as station master or signalman for the trains that passed through, even if it barely paid her shit. The secluded feeling of sitting in that booth and having a moment with her thoughts was enough to give her purpose. Bea was fond of poetry and it usually helped her come up with song lyrics.

 Song lyrics…

 That she would have to sing at the talent show. A huge sigh escaped her lips as she slumped further into the ground, maybe hoping she could bury herself six feet under. It wasn’t that Bea hated singing, no she absolutely loved it. Playing her guitar at night and belting out lyrics that only resulted in her mother banging on the ceiling below in efforts to shut the blonde up. But the mere fact that she’d have to sing in front of the ruthless seniors rubbed her the wrong way. Something would go wrong, it always did. Bea was shaken out of her thoughts when Poppy crossed the center of the room, moving her hips slowly to the sound of Rihanna’s voice. The class chose a slow r&b song to choreograph today and of course all eyes were on Poppy.

 If i’m your girl say my name boy

let me know i'm in control

 Her silky blonde locks swayed as she danced to the beat, hands thrusting sensually along her sides. Bea stared in awe, almost like Poppy was the only one in the room and a spotlight illuminated every movement, every curve. Except she definitely wasn’t the only one picturing Poppy in that way. Carter, the school quarterback leaned against the railing, arms crossed and eyes trailing the rise and fall of her chest. 

 Got me wondering, I’m wondering if i'm on your mind

 Bea sat up straighter but nearly lost her bodily functions when Poppy locked eyes with her before spinning away. It was simple eye contact Bea, don’t let it get to your head. You already have multiple lyrics inspired by Poppy offering the bare minimum in human interaction. She doesn’t actually like you. Poppy is popular and has the perfect life...and boyfriend, even if Bea heavily disagrees. Poppy was a bitch of course, but not a bitch bitch. Unlike the other wannabe mean girls, the blonde didn’t give Bea hell, well that was because the girl paid her zero attention. She seemed distant, off in her own world, or well in her parents world learning the strategies of business. Poppy was expected to follow in her parents footsteps and keep up with her reputation of being the richest in town, and of course a faithful future wife. So fun. But the blonde had other prosperous dreams of travelling and following her passion of music and dance. Highschool was her only outlet and she took advantage of it any chance she’d get. Bea knew this because she would ride her bike every friday night to the school and watch Poppy dance from outside the glass window. Maybe Bea realized it was kinda creepy, but she’s dumb enough to not realize her obvious growing attraction. I mean who pedals miles just to watch someone trip on their feet? 

 ***

 The sound of the bell caught everyone's attention and the teacher slowly lowered the music. Bea watched as Bradley approached Poppy and smothered her with kisses and praises. She rolled her eyes painfully, this kind of PDA definitely wasn’t it, she could have gone her whole life without seeing that. She walked silently through the crowd of kids in the hall, everyone was laughing and talking to their friends. All Bea could allow her mind to focus on was the very intimidating billboard of names a few feet across from her. 

 Winter Talent Show Sign-Ups (Mandatory For Seniors)

 Bea glared at it quietly before signing her name on the sheet, sealing her inevitable fate. Through the hustle of students, Carter watched the blonde with a yearning look from afar. This should be great…

 The next few classes were a blur and Bea eventually found herself getting up to hand Ms. Kingsley her paper. The older woman looked at her with a knowing glance as she took a generous sip of her coffee, which was 75% tequila.

 “6 different interpretations on Plato? Colour me impressed Miss Hughes.” 

 Bea shrugs nonchalant, “yeah well would you rather read their actual essays?”

 “Oh hell no.” Kingsley feigns shock as she looks at the stack of papers with a comical expression. She takes another sip, watching her younger, prodigy of a student carefully. “You know there are places outside of this godforsaken town where you can put your talents to use... Real use. I teach at Belvoire University occasionally.” Ina winks and slides Bea an application, studying her initial reaction. “It’s...in New York.”

“Damn right! The Big Apple.”

 “Kingsley you know I have to stay here. It’ll be easier for me to manage the farm and be close to home”, Bea says confidently even though her body language displays otherwise. She predicted the big sigh filling her ears before it actually happened and it still managed to faze her. “Who ever said you had to do anything? What about what you want to do?” Bea doesn’t make eye contact with Ina, that woman could convince you to do just about anything with a certain look. “No we are not doing this. You can take your reverse psychology and shove it where the sun doesn’t shine. I’m outta here.” The blonde stomps out of the classroom, the sound of Ina’s chuckles still ringing in her ears.

 “Hey! Everyone in this town fears God, but you know what God fears? My ability to hide a bottle of Don Julio in my left boot.” Ina pulls out the newly bought bottle and cradles it. “Come to mama.”

 ***

 Bea rode her bike alongside the dirt road, Kingsley’s words on replay the entire ride. Maybe she did deserve to experience something more than what this town had to offer. But would her mother manage without her? Sacrifices, sacrifices. Bea was used to making those for her mother after her father’s death. What would her dad think of all of this?

 “Hey!”

 He’d surely smack Bea upside the head for the little antics she pulled occasionally. And then he’d buy her vanilla coconut ice cream and ask for every single detail of what happened as they sat and laughed together. That’s the kind of relationship Bea would have had with her father, she liked to assume so. She also liked to assume that she’d get home safely everyday without a scratch, but then there’s Carter.

 “Hey wait up!” 

 The jock seemed to be running ridiculously fast and crashed right into the rear end of Bea’s bicycle, sending her face first into a mount of dirt. The initial impact was enough to boost the blonde straight back up like nothing happened and into a fighting stance, fists out and eyes wild. Very scary Bea. When she realized it was him...well it only pissed her off even more. “What the fuck Carter! You asshole!”

 “I’m sorry Bea! Here let me help-”

 “No! Move away! You- my bike- I…” Bea groans frustratingly, stepping away from the wreck as she tries to catch her breath. Carter watches her sheepishly, rubbing an envelope between his fingers awkwardly. After a few minutes of painfully uneasy silence he speaks up, “Okay...I didn’t want to ask you this way but I was wonder-”

“Oh, so you practically break my ass and now you want me to do you a favour? Real nice way of communication you have there Mr. Quarterback. What is with you and those freakishly large muscles anyways? Maybe it’s my fault I didn’t hear your avalanche built ass coming from behind.”

 “Hey! They are not freakishly large!”

 “I hate to break it to you Jackson but mine are significantly more appealing to look at.” Bea smirks widely, flexing her arm as best as she could. It’s a work in progress… just bare with her.

 It didn’t take much effort for Carter to break out into a smile and look at her fondly. Maybe there was more to this girl than just being a human dictionary. Well that’s what people called her, and he maybe believed it at first.

 Bea noticed the lack of response and shifted awkwardly, clearing her throat. “Listen, its $10 for three pages, $20 for three to ten, I'm not in the over-ten-page biz.”

 “No..no I’m not here to cheat!” Carter blurts out. “But I’ll let you know if I do plan on- anyways. I uh..” He hesitates before handing her the envelope. “What’s this?

 “Well you see it’s a letter..”

 “Yeah but who writes letters these days?”

 “I thought it seemed romantic..”

 “And I thought women writing Jeffrey Dahmer letters in jail seemed romantic”, Bea says sarcastically, her smile dropping instantly after catching a glimpse of Poppy’s name at the top of the paper. It was like the blood stopped flowing through her body for a few seconds as her mouth went dry. This had to be the work of the so-called God everyone praised in this town, or it was one cruel coincidence. Bea wasn’t sure why seeing her name made her heart beat ten times harder, but it also wasn’t a necessarily uncomfortable feeling…

 “I- I can’t help you.”

 “But if you just add a few more words-”

 “I’m not writing a letter to Poppy Min Sincla- to..to some girl for you. Letters are supposed to be authentic, from the heart, your own words, your...feelings.” Bea hurriedly turns to grab her bike, suddenly losing all interest in being social. 

 Carter was afraid this would happen. But he was stubborn. “But I can pay more for authentic!” 

 Too bad Bea was stubborn as well. “Just get a thesaurus...Good luck, Romeo.”

***

 Bea sat in her room, strumming away softly at the strings of her guitar. Some of the keys were off but the old thing still worked, and that was good enough for her. She could hear the tv blasting downstairs, her mother most likely watching the news. There’s something about old people and news, were they secretly ogling the news anchors? Just like Bea ogled Poppy any chance she could. The blonde frowned to herself, her eyebrows crunching together in question. What so hard about writing a letter to Poppy? It’s not like it's coming from her. Well it technically is, but Carter is taking the credit and Bea never had a problem with people taking credit for her words. So why did this very thought prove to be such an inconvenience? Lucky for Bea, her mind drifted elsewhere when she heard a painful snap. Even if it wasn’t physically connected to her body, she felt a horrible ache. Slowly peering down at the guitar in her hand, Bea found that the neck of the guitar had miraculously split almost clean off, a splinter of wood just holding it intact. She wanted to scream but nothing really came out, except air of course. Much to her disapproval, this was definitely a result of her strength. Stupid muscles couldn’t contain themselves at the thought of Carter being with Poppy. Now how could that be? 

 But now she had no guitar. And no guitar means no strings to strum, and no lyrics to sing, and no talent to show at the talent show. Now she was in trouble. Probably because she knew that the only way to get the money to replace the guitar would be through sealing the deal with Carter. Oh fuck it!

 ***

 “One letter. And enough money to buy a new guitar.”

 “Deal!”

 Bea turns away with a sigh, completely ignoring Carter’s high five. Now all she had to do was write this letter, and pray that Poppy wouldn’t completely consume every fiber of her being in the process.

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

End note: So how we feelin’? Carter and Bea Brotp??

Tags: @samanthadalton @somewillwin @clowneryme @baexpoppy @zigxryanz @uselesslesbianfr @aleiramacaii @thedaft1 @alexlabhont @iamsimpforpoppy

[themetaphorgirl]

in which Emily makes a poor choice

HEY Y’ALL I AM BACK!!! WITH A PATRON SAINT DRABBLE!!

Y’all can thank @linguinereid for this one!! Sweet Bee suggested this and I ended up writing part of it while I was in line for rides at Epcot. 

I’m excited to be writing and posting again!! Please tell me what y’all think of this one, and tell me what I’ve missed in the past couple of weeks!!

---------

Emily poked at her ear, trying to twist around to get a better look in the mirror. “Shit,” she mumbled, wincing as she prodded a sore spot. She leaned across the bathroom counter, almost sitting in the sink. “I think I fucked up. Shit.”

“That looks infected.”

She jumped in surprise and fell off the counter, hitting the faucet on her way down and splashing water across her shirt. “What the fuck!” she exclaimed. Spencer stood in the bathroom doorway, head tilted and eyes wide like a very small owl. “You little gremlin, you scared the shit out of me! What are you doing in here?”

“You left the door open,��� Spencer said. “What’s wrong with your ear?”

She fumbled to turn off the faucet and pick up Hotch’s knocked-over toothbrush. “Nothing.”

“It’s red and swollen,” he said. “That’s a sign of infection. What did you do?” His eyes went wide. “Did you get that piercing after Hotch told you it was a bad idea?”

She smoothed her hair down over her ear. “Nope,” she said. “Why would you think that?”

“I heard you guys arguing about it,” he said. “Hotch said it was against dress code, and you said you didn’t give two fucks about dress code, and he said you were shit at cleaning the piercings you already have and you’d fuck up your ears, and you said-”

“Okay, okay, you and your eidetic memory can stop at literally any time,” Emily said, rolling her eyes. “It’s not that big a deal. There was a girl at the party last weekend who said she’d pierced like everybody’s ears at camp last summer, and she’d always wanted to try an industrial, and-” She paused. “Why am I explaining myself to you? You’re ten.”

“Nine.”

“Close enough. Why are you here, anyway?”

Spencer shifted his weight. “I have to pee,” he said.

“All right, I’ll get out,” Emily said. “But not a word to Hotch, understand? Not a single word. He cannot know about this. You know how smug he gets when he right about something.”

“Is he right, though?” Spencer said. “Did you fuck up your ear?”

“Okay, no swearing either, Alex will murder me if you pick up on me swearing,” Emily said. She stepped out of the bathroom and gave Spencer a little push inside. “Seriously, though. Don’t tell Alex either. You know she’ll be pissed at me too. I’ll- I’ll buy you that Star Wars lego set you want as long as you keep your mouth shut.”

Spencer brightened. “The Millennium Falcon?” he said.

“Sure, sure, why not, just keep your mouth shut!”

She closed the bathroom door and went back down the hall to the common room. It was Derek’s week to pick for movie night; he was having a great time with whatever Will Ferrell comedy he’d chosen, but Hotch was focused on his homework and Alex was reading a book. Emily sat down in her usual spot, tucking her legs underneath her. Her ear was still burning, but she brushed her hair over it surreptitiously. She could keep it a secret, as long as Spencer did. It would be fine.

By Tuesday, she realized it was not fine.

Her ear continued to swell and throb, the skin red and stretched tight around the barbell in the cartilage. She’d had to actually style her hair every morning instead of throwing it up in a messy ponytail or bun, or asking JJ or Alex to braid it for her. It wouldn’t take long for Alex to catch if she kept this up- she was famous for rolling out of bed at the last minute, getting up early to do her hair was drastically out of character. But she wasn’t sure who to be more afraid of catching her, Hotch or Alex.

She sat down at their usual table in the dining hall and pulled her hair back behind her ear, hissing when her nails brushed the irritated skin. “Oh, fuck,” she mumbled under her breath. It wasn’t good. It really wasn’t good. 

Spencer climbed up on the chair beside her. “Are you doing okay?” he asked. 

She sighed heavily. “How bad does it look?” she asked. 

Spencer knelt on the chair so he could lean his elbows on the table. “Pretty bad,” he said. “Ew, is it oozing? I think it’s oozing.” He wrinkled his nose. “You should tell somebody.”

“Like hell I will,” she said, pulling her hair back into place. “This is a hill I will die on.” She paused. “This...this won’t kill me, will it? I won’t actually die on this hill?”

“Probably not, but infection was one of the leading causes of death during the Civil War,” he shrugged. “Try rinsing with saltwater, that might help.”

“Really?”

“Couldn’t hurt. I mean, in a manner of speaking. It’ll probably hurt a lot.”

Emily blinked. “That wasn’t reassuring, babe,” she said.

Hotch walked over to them and set his tray down. “What are you two talking about?” he asked as he sat down and cracked the top of his yellow Red Bull.

“Nothing,” Emily said quickly, dropping her fork in an effort to pick it up fast.

Alex set a glass of milk down on Spencer’s tray. “Sit on your butt or you’re going to fall on the floor again,” she said. 

Spencer tilted his head back to look up at her. “I wanted chocolate milk,” he objected. 

“Plain first, darling,” she said, bending to kiss his forehead. “Now sit down before you fall out of your chair.” Spencer obeyed, sliding down from his knees to sit down. 

Emily poked her fork around in her scrambled eggs. They were way too yellow and a little watery around the edges, and her stomach turned. “Emily, are you okay?” Hotch asked. 

“Yeah, fine, why do you ask?”

He gestured towards her tray with his Red Bull can. “I don’t think I’ve seen you eat anything since you came back from the party on Friday night,” he said. “Are you still sulking because I told you not to pierce your ear?”

“I don’t sulk,” Emily scoffed.

“Yes, you do,” Hotch said. “You’re pissed because you know I’m right, and it would be a terrible idea to get an industrial. Especially since you don’t have a guardian over eighteen to sign off on it, so it’d be illegal.”

Emily stabbed her fork into the eggs. “I’m fine and I’m not sulking,” she said. “But you’re wrong. I’ll be fine if I get my ear pierced.”

She met Spencer’s gaze. His hazel eyes were wide, glancing over first at Hotch and then at Alex, but he kept his mouth shut. Her ear throbbed, but she wasn’t going to give anyone the satisfaction of knowing they were right. 

By Friday, she knew they were right, and she hated it, but damn, her ear hurt. 

She huddled in the corner of the library sofa, her history textbook open on her lap but long forgotten. Her ear was an ever-present pain now, too sensitive to touch, and oozing something disgusting. 

The library was quiet and peaceful, rain tapping steadily on the window. James was sorting through his anatomy flashcards while Dave pretended to write a paper while he was really working on the novel he claimed he wasn’t writing. Spencer was lying on his tummy on the floor, absorbed in a book far above his grade level. The rest of the kids were at clubs or practices, and Alex passed by in her own paths as she shelved books and answered questions.

She glanced up to see Spencer watching her poke at her ear; she dropped her hand and glared at him. “Don’t say anything,” she said to him sharply in Russian. “Remember the Millennium Falcon.”

He sighed heavily. “Your ear looks really bad,” he said. His Russian wasn’t as strong as his Italian, and his accent was terrible, but at least James and Dave wouldn’t understand them.

“Not a word!” she said.

Alex plunked down on the opposite side of the couch, jostling Emily and making her scowl. “I’m taking a break,” she sighed. “The sophomores are working on their poetry projects and I don’t want to discuss Ezra Pound anymore.”

Spencer pushed himself up from the floor. “Alex?” he said. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course, dearest,” she said, taking his hands in hers. “What’s up?”

“If I told you I wanted to do something and you said no, and I did it anyway, would you be mad at me?” he asked.

Emily shot him a dirty look, but he ignored her. “Well, I might be a bit disappointed, but I don’t think I’d be mad,” Alex said, squeezing his hands. 

“If I did the thing anyway, and I ended up getting hurt, would you be mad at me?” he asked. 

“No, I wouldn’t,” Alex said, drawing him onto her lap.

“And you wouldn’t tell me you told me so? And you’d help me?” he continued. 

She frowned, clearly concerned over this line of conversation, and hugged him. “Of course I’d help you, baby,” she said. She stroked his hair away from his forehead. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

Spencer leaned around Alex’s shoulder to make direct eye contact with Emily. She sighed heavily. “So...you know how I wanted to get an industrial piercing, and you and Hotch said it would be a bad idea?” she said hesitantly.

Alex’s eyes narrowed. “Yes,” she said. “Why?” Emily tucked her hair slowly behind her ear. “Emily, holy shit!”

“It’s pretty bad, huh?” Emily said glumly.

Alex moved Spencer hastily off her lap and leaned over Emily to take a better look at her ear. “Oh my god,” she said. “James, can you come take a look at this?”

James pulled his headphones off. “Hm?” he said. “Oh shit! Emily, what did you do?”

She submitted reluctantly to his poking and prodding. “So a girl at the party last week offered to pierce my ear,” she said. “And it...kind of went wrong.”

“That looks like it hurts,” Alex said, smoothing her hair. “It looks super infected.”

“Yeah, that’s the medical term for it,” James said. “Holy shit, Prentiss, I can’t believe you pulled a Parent Trap.”

“A Parent Trap?”

“Yeah, when Hallie pierces Annie’s ear with a sewing needle, an apple, and...you know what, never mind.”

Emily winced as the earring shifted. “Can you just...make Hotch promise that he won’t say I told you so?” she said. 

“I think he’ll agree that you’ve suffered enough,” Alex reassured her. 

Spencer hovered at her elbow. “I would have said something sooner, but Emily said she’d buy me the Millennium Falcon set,” he said.

“Please don’t scold me for bribing the baby, either,” Emily said. 

“Okay, I might scold you about that one.”

[dominusfero]

I see you want to do a self-ship challenge and can't choose between David, Daniel, and Jasper. I dare you to do all three.

Okay.

1. 

David: His personality, his long arms perfect for hugging and his gorgeous smile

Daniel: His beautiful eyes, his talent at violin/fiddle, his charisma

Jasper: His humor (no doubt he’s a memer), he’s got the cuddliest bod, his sense of fashion (as horrible as it may be, it’s amazing to me)

2. 

David: My baking skills. I love baking and I’m betting David has a serious sweet-tooth. We always have too many cookies, cakes, brownies in the house.

Daniel: I have magic hands (not NSFW, I took massage classes). I always manage to melt the tension out of his back and neck muscles, and he becomes a puddle when I do his thighs and feet. He’s very tense.

Jasper: (Not revealing my gender but--) Jasper likes my body, but not in a creepy way. He likes every little minor thing about my body, from my own scars to the heart shaped birthmark on my inner thigh. Plus, he says I’m soft.

3.

Since we all live together, it’d be a bunch of different pets. Daniel gets his own pet rat called Snowflake, Jasper and I share a little Dasypeltis named Scramble, and David has a German Shepard that we call Kino.

4. Raised ranch with a pool, big veggie garden and a nice patio. Stuck between bordering on a forest for the animals or set in a giant field so Jasper and I can go ATVing.

5. Do I need to? David and Daniel are both adults, their voices won’t change. Jasper’s, however, is definitely deeper than it was as a child. My best guess is: he sounds exactly like Griffin McElroy.

6. Everyone assumes it’s David, but really, it’s Daniel. He’s only ever known the forced version of love due to the brainwashing, never genuine. The first time I hugged him and he hugged back, I ended up falling asleep because he wouldn’t let me go.

7. Also Daniel. Romantically, I think it’s rooted in potential abandonment issues / possessiveness but it’s never egregious. Any other kind, it’s the same reason why David gets jealous: absurd competitiveness. Can’t ever be the worst at something, otherwise it’s Tantrum Time. Fortunately, kisses make this go away.

8. 

David: Counting Stars by One Republic (country-ish vibe fits with his aesthetic)

Daniel: The whole of “Love Like You” by Rebecca Sugar

Jasper: Blackout by Breathe Carolina (Party vibes man)

9. Yes! Okay, so the guys change all the time but I’m usually in the middle (or close to it). Daniel is a clingy s.o.b. If he isn’t latched onto me, it’s either David or Jasper. I always end up in somebody’s arms, though. It’s really nice. Jasper’s chest hair tickles.

10. 

David: One jab in the ribs and he squirms and squeals like a child

Daniel: Dude has 0 resistance to the tickles. I do not understand.

Jasper: A fucking rock (pun intended). He feels nothing.

Me: Ehh...kinda? I don’t think so.

11.

David

12.

We’re thinking of somewhere either in southern Italy or, if we had to stay domestic, probably New Orleans, Louisiana for the cuisine and culture.

13.

David: Forest cottagecore wedding

Daniel: Believe it or not, he wants a fairytale theme complete with toadstool cupcakes, pastel colored lights and simple grassy vibes. He likes the fantasy aspect of it because it feels so freeing.

Jasper: He’s stuck between Star Wars and an 80s bowling alley theme.

Me: Beach wedding so I don’t have to wear fancy clothes. Just a white swimsuit so I can go swimming right after.

14. Yeah, but the amount changes depending on who you ask. David wants two: one boy, one girl. Daniel, coming from a rather large family, wants no less than four and prefers boys. Jasper says he’s cool with one, has his fingers crossed for a girl but says if we end up with a boy, that’s just as dope.

15.

Daniel is the poet, Jasper is the cheesy love song writer.

16.

I guess my affection comes out in my cooking, but I also just snuggle/cuddle the fuck outta my boys.

David, for sure, is grand gestures. Flowers sent to work, buying candy/snacks when you’ve had a bad day, etc.

Daniel is more subtle, like meticulously folding the laundry or organizing your messy ass desk so you can actually find shit or tuning the guitar.

Jasper shows his love through bad puns and lots of hugs.

17.

To David: On cheek, forehead, lips

From David: My nose because he thinks it’s funny

To Daniel: On the back of his neck because it makes him weak in the knees

From Daniel: Knuckles because he’s a gentleman

To Jasper: His tum is fun because it makes him laugh but his lips are so much better

From Jasper: Wherever he can get to, he does not discriminate

18.

Since there’s four of us, we cuddle in a big pile on our lovely, humongous bed. Or in a pile split between the couch and floor while watching TV or movies.

19.

David: If he’s near somewhere to sit, I grab him from behind and pull him down and force him either into my lap or on top of me. Then I hold him until he feels less crappy. Kisses are involved.

Daniel: I brew him a cup of his favorite tea, give him a kiss and shoulder rub.

Jasper: He’s easy. Sneak up on him and squish a whoopie cushion with a straight face. Or kick open the door to wherever he is after blasting the Monsters Inc. Opening Meme track.

Me: I don’t have too many bad days but I do, being around my boys is enough to fix my mood on its own. But for those days when it isn’t, my boys usually make me some kind of fix-it meal (that usually isn’t very good but I ain’t gonna say anything).

20.

David: Gardening, well, veggie gardening. We love hoe-ing around together.

Daniel: Drawing and writing together. Daniel writes poetry and I design covers and illustrations to go along with it.

Jasper: Video games and meme sharing / making

21.

David: He took me out to this nice little hidden oasis deep in the mountains of the forest and we gazed at the stars. He started talking about something relating to the area we were in, but I fell asleep on him. Literally, we were laying down and I was on his right side and fell asleep with my face in his chest.

Daniel: We binged a bunch of horror movies and spent the night laughing at the stupid ways people died (or let themselves be killed). It was fun!

Jasper: I whooped his ass in Mario Kart and then we played Minecraft. I accidentally (not really) blew up his house.

22.

Camp (I was working for Camp Corp. and was sent to relay marketing information and a potential budget for the coming year, as well as mockup any infrastructure changes that may need doing)

23.

Daniel, though I will cut a bitch if anyone hurts my boys in any way. Daniel will actively murder, though, so we try not to let that happen.

24. 

YES

I miss my boys so much! David cries a lot and it hurts me in every conceivable way.

Ask me a freebie, I’ll answer it!

[softyoongiionly]

La Grande Maison: A Mystery in Three Acts 🎠

The rooftop is your safe haven. It’s your escape from the woes of the world below and, you and your best friends take every opportunity you can to visit this special place. It’s here that time slows down, that all your problems seem to fade away...

But when one of you goes missing, not even the rooftop can save you from the nightmare that has yet to unfold. 

Pairing: Jimin x Reader (but also this one is mainly about good ol fashion friendship)

Genre: Mystery/Thriller

Word Count: 25k 

Warnings (please read me!!!): angst (like seriously chief this one is ROUGH), alcohol use (not excessive), drug use (not excessive), violence, mentions of murder/crime/kidnapping, swearing (excessive), mentions of death, character death (not major), SMUT (18+ only please). 

A/N: hello yes. It is me. This one is ALOT my friends. Like holy freaking heck. I am honestly so incredibly excited for you to read this and, I can’t wait to see what you think of it. It’s my actual baby and, I’m kind of nervous cause, I’ve never written a fic like this before so, I really really really hope you like it. If you do, please let me know, feedback means everything to me. 

Please Note: Bolded text indicates when characters are speaking Korean

Regarding Taehyung’s French scenes (yes our boy is fluent in french in this fic), I did my best. My french isn’t perfect so, if there are mistakes I am super sorry. 

Please please please let me know if you liked it!

I love you all so much, please enjoy.

Act I- Sur La Grande Maison

The rooftop is a place you often end up.  

It’s a little cliché, you think: a bunch of misfits corralled onto a dodgy high-rise building in the middle of the city, cigarette smoke wafting in the air.  

But you and your friends aren’t delinquents.  

The worst any of you has ever done is get a speeding ticket and that only happened because, one of you had dared Hoseok to go over 100 miles an hour on the highway: Hoseok never turns down a dare.  

But no, the rooftop is a quiet place despite the shady motel it rests upon and, it’s a place you and your group of friends cherish for different reasons  

Jin likes it because; he can spot new street food vendors from the massive height of the building. He’s made all of you try some interesting shit but, most of the time, it’s delicious.  

Namjoon has perfect view of the river and, sometimes he separates from the seven of you to write poetry while gazing down at it.  

Yoongi doesn’t always join you but, he finds himself dragging himself out of the house to listen to the underground rappers that perform in the club next door.  

He thinks he can do better.  

He’s probably right.  

The rooftop gives Hoseok the space to dance; he doesn’t have it downstairs in the room he rents and, he can’t afford a practice room. So, he brings out his old speakers and amuses the rest of you while he moves fluidly around the concrete.  

Taehyung loves to paint the skyline and, the roof allows him a view that he can’t get anywhere else. He’s painted it a hundred times but, he hasn’t used every color; not yet at least.  

Jungkook brings his dads old polaroid up every time you guys meet. He takes unflattering pictures of all of you and, you know it’s just for fun but, what you don’t know is that he’s made a collage on his wall of all of them and, he smiles at them each morning as he heads to work.  

And Jimin well…  

Jimin has a lot of reasons why he loves the rooftop:  

His friends of course; he can’t imagine his life without all of the late nights/early mornings he’s spent huddled up with his best friends, laughing so hard he can’t see straight.    

The view is amazing, it makes Jimin feel like he lives in a penthouse despite him working three minimum wage jobs just to keep a shitty roof over his head.  

But all of those things pale in comparison to his favorite thing about the rooftop: you.  

You’ve been friends since high school but eight months ago, he started realizing that the little crush he had is actually full-blown LOVE and, that he should probably tell you soon before he loses his shit.  

Luckily for him, you reciprocated.  

It wasn’t easy at first, Jimin’s a jealous man and, he let his trust issues get in the way but, after a few stupid fights, he decided he needed to grow up and knock it off.  

The rooftop saw it all, the fights, the making up, the making out and, one night when everyone fell asleep, Jimin made you cum three times underneath the blanket the two of you were sharing.  

It’s a little filthy he knows but, he gets kind of primal around you, he wants everyone to know you’re his.  

But he knows when it’s appropriate to do so and, he’d never try to control you.  

Unless you two were in bed together then, there are times when you give him that control.  

He always brings you down nicely though, he always kisses your forehead...  

You think you might fall in love with him a little more each time.  

“Y/N?”  

A voice brings you out of your thoughts and, you look up across the makeshift bonfire to see Hoseok smirking knowingly at you.  

“There’s an old mattress over by the chimney if you and Jimin need to relieve yourselves...”  

There is a small echo of laughter that moves through the group and, you cock your head in confusion, “What are you talking about?  

Jimin throws a cigarette butt at him, wrapping an arm around you, “Fuck off. She doesn’t realize she does it...” You feel him tuck a bit of hair behind your ear, smiling fondly at you, “Don’t worry about him, he’s just mad he doesn’t have a girl looking at him like that.”  

You turn towards the rest of your friends, “Wait what do you mean? What did I do?”  

With chaos in his eyes, Jin takes the cigarette Namjoon passes to him before nodding to you, “You were eye fucking your boyfriend.”  

“Shut uuuup.” You answer immediately, burying your face in Jimin’s neck which prompts a pleased round of laughter to move past his lips.  

You didn’t realize you were doing it but, you don’t protest his observation.  

It’s been nearly a month since you’ve had a night off, meaning you’ve gone without your boyfriend’s touch for way too long.  

He tugs you closer to him and presses a kiss to your head whilst everyone else laughs at your expense.  

As the night breeze rushes in to move between the eight of you, Jimin holds you even tighter, tugging the old knitted blanket around your body.  

“Give her a break, she’s been without dick for a long time...it’s been like a month since we met up.” Taehyung interjects, taking a drag of the cigarette before passing it to Jungkook.  

Cigarettes are nearly $10 a pack, so they share one at a time and, pitch in when the supply runs low.  

You don’t smoke but five of them do and, you’re kind of thankful your boyfriend isn’t one of them.  

“So? Do you guys not meet up in between? Y/N has a studio, plenty of privacy...” Jin waves his hand between the two of you, judgement in his eyes.  

Jimin tenses up beside you, not really enjoying the way the conversation has shifted, “We both work 3 jobs hyung, you know that.”  

“You’re right. Sex is probably quite straining for you...” Jin smirks, enjoying the annoyance in Jimin’s eyes.  

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jimin’s eyes are narrowed and, you are quickly coming up with a plan to distract your boyfriend from Jin’s teasing.  

His not exactly a good candidate for roasting; he’s far too sensitive for that.  

“You know cause it’s...” Jin positions his fingers in such a way that suggests that Jimin has a small dick  

“Jin-” Namjoon groans in warning but, Jungkook and Hoseok have already started snickering.  

You expect your boyfriend to pop off, guns a blazing, eyes alight with offence but, instead he just smirks.  

Letting his hand curve around the ball of your knee, he says something that nullifies Jin’s insult,  

“You don’t have to have a big dick to be good in bed hyung...”  

Jin isn’t phased and he raises his eyebrows as he holds the cigarette to his lips, “That’s something people with small dicks say.”  

Hoseok and Jungkook snicker again, enjoying the drama and Taehyung grins from behind his phone, shaking his head.  

Jimin’s smirk widens as his hand continues to trail up your thigh, “Do you think I’m bad in bed?”  

His question is spoken into your ear and, his breath against your skin causes a shiver to run through you.  

“No.” You giggle, leaning into him and, he’s quick to tighten his grip on you, his lips quickly finding the side of your head.  

“Now, Y/N...every good relationship is built on trust. You two will never last if you continue to lie.” Jin’s laughter escalates to a full-blown windshield wiper volume and, surprisingly enough, it’s Yoongi who shuts him down  

“Your fiancé made you sleep on the couch with me the other night because, you were too drunk to get it up so,” Yoongi tilts his head as if he’s wagering two options, “you're not really in the position to be talking shit.”  

Everyone’s face turns up in surprise as Yoongi, or Mouse, as they like to call him, puts Jin on blast without even looking up from his phone.  

“Mouse just ended your whole life bro.” Hoseok cackles, throwing back a bit of vodka as Jungkook leans into him with the weight of his laughter.  

Jin waves him off like the unbothered king he is and, gestures to the vodka bottle in Hoseok’s hands, “Mouse’s have tiny dicks too so, he’s just jealous.”  

Namjoon literally cringes in his seat, looking at Jin with incredulity, “Mice not mouse’s...”  

Taehyung laughs at that, leaning forward a bit to warm his hands around the fire. He looks exhausted but, then again, so do the rest of you.  

But it speaks volumes doesn’t it?  

That you’re all hear together, on your only days off, soaking up every bit of time you have.  

Roasting aside, anyone can see that there is nothing but love between the eight of you.  

If you had it your way, you’d spend every night up here.  

Jimin reminds you with his lips, just how long it’s been as he places a few kisses against your cheek, “Come play with me.”  

You giggle, turning in his grip to meet his grinning face, “You sound like the twins from The Shining...”  

Jimin’s eyes wrinkle with his laughter but, he’s quick to place a searing kiss to your lips along with another sinful phrase, “Please? I haven’t seen you naked in a month.”  

You shake your head, tucking hand behind his neck to pull him closer to you, “I’ve sent you nudes...”  

Jimin’s quick to kiss you again but, his lips pout further and, you notice the scent of after shave lingering around his face.  

That shouldn’t turn you on but, for whatever reason, it does.  

“Yes you did and, trust me when I say, I put them to good use-” He kisses you again, nudging your nose as he does, “but I want the real thing.”  

“Let’s go then.” You whisper against his lips  

He kisses you once more before, getting Hoseok’s attention, “Yah, I need your key.”  

Hoseok lives on the 8th floor of the motel you’re currently loitering on and, his room is a place you and Jimin often end up during nights like these.  

Most people would be weirded out by it but, for you guys, it’s normal.  

You don’t bat your eyes at the seedier sides of life, you’ve all lived through it in some way.  

Hoseok just smirks, reaching into the pocket of his jeans, “Stay off my bed unless you plan on inviting me this time.”  

Jimin just flips him off, grinning fondly at him before taking your hand and, tugging you towards the door.  

“Don’t be too long, we wanna play poker!” Jungkook calls after the two of you and, although Jimin has a mission in mind, he responds anyway.  

“With what money?”  

“We’re playing for bragging rights obviously, that shit means more to you heathens than actual money.” Namjoon smirks, taking a swig of the vodka before passing it to Yoongi.  

“That doesn’t apply to me; I would sell all of you for an even $500.” Yoongi remarks, taking a big gulp and, bearing his teeth as it burns his throat.  

The rest of you just laugh but, before you can add your two sense, Jimin is tugging you behind the door.  

He has you pressed up against it immediately, his hands finding your waist whilst his plush lips kiss you with everything he’s got.  

You’re quick to reciprocate as your hands slide around the curve of his neck. Delicately, your fingers tangle into the hair at the nape of his neck and, it spurs Jimin on even more as he groans into your mouth.  

“Christ, what are you doing to me?” He laments against your mouth, causing laughter to bubble past your lips, “It’s not funny...” He laments but, he’s grinning as he does, walking you backwards towards the elevator, “I’ve only been kissing you for ten seconds and, I’m already so hard.”  

You tug him through the elevator doors the collar of his t-shirt all while trying to keep your lips connected, “Should I only expect you to last for ten seconds too?”  

Jimin grunts in protest, his brows furrowing cutely as he shakes his head, “Don’t make fun of me, I missed you...” He whines playfully, smirking when you hitch a leg around his waist.  

“I missed you too.” You breath and, you always marvel at young Jimin can make you feel.  

You’re fully grown, sexually active adults and, yet here you grinding into one another like a bunch of hormonal rookies. The denim of his jeans pressing against the soft cotton of your panties hits you right in the pit of your stomach and, you’re honestly a little shocked by how wet you are.  

Jimin slides the key card through Hoseok’s door several times before it finally works.  

This motel is not a featured business on Yelp.  

“Fucking door- ugh Jesus I don’t know how he gets this open when he’s hammered.” Jimin laughs, pulling you close to him as soon as he shoves Hoseok’s door shut.  

“I have found him sleeping in the hallway before.” You point out but, the importance of your reply dies on your tongue when Jimin steps back to pull his shirt off.  

You don’t hide your reaction either, letting your eyes wander over the masterpiece that is Jimin’s body.  

He’s slightly tan from his days working at the pool, his sinewy muscles protruding tastefully against his smooth skin; it’s enough to make you drool.  

But to center yourself, you comment on something tangible before you literally start begging for him,  

“Your tattoo is healing nicely.” You nod your head to the black ink scrawled across Jimin’s ribs  

The word ‘nevermind’ has never looked so good on someone's skin before.  

He just smirks, “Yeah, it’s still a little sore though.”  

“Oh?” With a tilt of your head, you let your eyes scan over it again, “Should I kiss it better?”  

Your question doesn’t get answered because the next thing you know, Jimin has you on the couch, sat astride on his lap with your shirt half way up your torso.  

“I want you naked- I don’t give a fuck if they’re waiting on us...”  

All you can manage is a nod and, Jimin quickly tugs your shirt over your head.  

He connects his lips to the crook of your neck, sighing into your skin as if the taste alone soothes him.  

“You missed me too right?” He mumbles causing you to gently tug on the black tendrils of his hair so he’ll face you.  

“Of course.” You peck his lips once before pushing him back against the arm of the couch, “See?”  

Jimin nearly busts right there when you lean back to pull your skirt up, exposing the dampened material of your panties.  

Your boyfriend has a panty fetish that nearly warrants concern. For months, he would beg you to leave your panties with him after the two of you had sex until finally; you were down to your last 8 pair.  

He bought you more of course but, that didn’t stop him from begging all over again.  

“Fuck these are my favorite...” He winces at the sight, letting out a shaky breath before his darkening irises find yours again, “Leave them on.”  

You smirk, letting your skirt down and, pecking at his lips once again, “I thought you wanted me naked.”  

He bites down on your bottom lip, pulling it for a moment and, letting it snap back in place,  

“I changed my mind. I wanna cum all over these pretty little panties you’re wearing instead...”  

Jimin makes good on his promise.  

Sex with Jimin is something else.  

The pleasure he brings you is so intense it’s almost painful.  

It’s almost painful because, you hardly see each other and, if you had it your way, you’d be in his lap all the time.  

But, life doesn’t work that way.  

So, you take what you can get.  

He makes you cum twice on his dick, with his thumb pressed firmly against your clit.  

He whispers dirty secrets in your ear and, somehow manages to make you feel both filthy and beautiful all at once.  

Prodding another weakness of his, hickies, you help him reach his own release and, within 10 minutes he’s attaining the orgasm he’s been craving so desperately.  

“Fuck, I missed you so much...” He croons into your neck, nuzzling his nose there for a moment as you run your fingers through his hair.  

“I missed you too.” You smile, kissing the shell of his ear  

The two of you stay like that for a moment, kissing on one another, relishing in your reunion.  

When the time is right, the two of you will share a place one day but, for now, you have to continue working hard and saving money for the things your future.  

And speaking of making money...  

Your phone buzzes in the pocket of your skirt and, you sadly drag your attention away from your boyfriend to see a text from your boss at the nursing home  

Xander: Christian called out tonight :/  

Xander: you want to work a double?

Night shifts pay time and a half and, it would be another 8 hours on this next paycheck...  

It’s like a punch to the chest really.  

Because, you have to leave.  

One your one night off in nearly a month.  

You feel like crying but, you know that’s ridiculous.  

Jimin’s face falls as he sees the text on your phone but, he knows that his disappointment will only make you feel guilty and, he really doesn’t want that.  

So instead, he curls a finger underneath your chin and, kisses you with a tenderness that he doesn’t often display.  

Not that he isn’t sweet with you, it’s just that his lips are sinful and, normally they are working you into a frenzy.  

The time you two have together is so limited that everything always feels so rushed but, in this moment, he takes the time to kiss you slowly.  

And as he brushes a thumb across your cheek, he makes a promise to you, “I promise, we’ll get our break someday and, when that day comes, I’ll be kissing this pretty mouth of yours every chance I get...”  

You smile, leaning into his hand, “I’ll make you breakfast every morning…and we can decorate together our place together and-“

Jimin interrupts your fantasy with a kiss, grinning fondly into your lips, “Anything you want.”

You wrap your arms around him once more, tucking your face into his neck, wishing desperately that you can stay here with him all night…

“I love you.” You whisper into his skin  

“I love you too.” He replies, kissing the side of your head

Jimin walks you downstairs to the exit of the motel and, he tries his best to swallow his disappointment.

Your car is in the shop so; you’ll catch the bus right up the street and, try to remind yourself why you’re working so hard.

With a tight and lingering embrace, Jimin says his goodbyes to you, pecking your lips a dozen more times.

“Text me when you get home tonight…” He requests with a soft voice and, you nod, kissing him once more before stepping outside.  

Jimin leans against the stained glass, watching you with love in his eyes as you turn to wave frantically at him.

It brings a giggle to his lips as he waves back, feeling an ache in his heart as you disappear into the crowd of people.

Jimin knows he’s never loved another person the way he loves you.

He knows he wants to spend the rest of his life with you.

But what Jimin didn’t know is that the agony of watching you leave after only a short time with him is nothing compared to the pain he has yet to endure.

Because tonight is no ordinary night.

Tonight, is the night you go missing.

Kosei Police Station, Thursday 6:24am

It’s been 54 hours since your friends heard from you.

Xander called Jimin, your emergency contact, when you didn’t show up for your shift Monday night.

The group promptly blew up your cell phone, trying any means necessary to reach you.

When there was no reply, they showed up to your apartment and much to their horror, the property manager has no recollection of you returning home.  

“How long has she been missing?”

Jimin wants to scream at the uninterested clerk behind the desk.

He wants to scream in general.

The police station should be in full chaos at the news of your absence.

They should be on the phone with every available resource, repeating your name and details over and over.

But it’s not.

It’s eerily calm and, he doesn’t understand why.

“The last time I saw her was on Monday. She was supposed to work that night but, her manager said she never showed up.”  

Jimin doesn’t recognize his own voice.

He feels like he’s outside of his body.

“Mhm…” The man drone behind the glass, casually typing a few things into the computer, “And what was her name again?”

Jimin’s blood boils over and, thank god for Namjoon because, he immediately intervenes.

“Y/N Y/L/N. She’s __ years old, she has __ hair, __ eyes and, she was last seen at the Paybrook Motel, Monday night. This isn’t like her to disappear. What is your protocol for these kinds of things?”  

The man enters the information before shrugging at Namjoon’s question, “Uh we’ll send a squad car out to do some ground work but, uh honestly most cases like these are resolved pretty quickly, I wouldn’t worry too much about it.”

Taehyung arches a brow, leaning in towards the bulletproof glass, “You wouldn’t- you wouldn’t worry too much about it? Our best friend is missing…”

The man nods immediately, as if he’s amending his mistake, “Of course, I just mean- she’ll probably turn up you know, most people do.”

Jimin’s eyes are stinging, he’s trying his best to keep it together but, the fluorescent lights are blinding him, the stale scent of old coffee makes him want to vomit, he feels like he’s losing his mind.

“Y/N isn’t most people…” Jimin spits, his eyes honing in on the man, “She wouldn’t just vanish like this, something must have happened to her, this is an emergency. Why aren’t you sending someone out right now?”  

“Sir, this is the inner city, no offense but, people like her disappear all the time…”

Jimin’s eyes narrow, “People like her? What the fuck does that mean?”

“Jimin.” Yoongi murmurs, wrapping an arm around him and urges him away from the desk before things get out of hand.

Surprisingly, Jimin follows but, not without sending a warning glare towards the clerk.

Long story short; the police are no help.

They don’t understand the gravity of the situation.

They don’t seem to grasp the pain the seven of your friends are feeling.

Even if they did, it doesn’t appear that they would care either way.

But the thing is, your friends are used to this.

They are used to being let down by the people who they’re supposed to trust.

Their hardships cultivated a unique ability within them each of them.

And that ability was to fend for themselves.

So a plan is made to spread out and search for you on their own.  

With heavy hearts and fire running through their veins, Jin, Yoongi, Namjoon, Hoseok, Jimin, Taehyung and, Jungkook leave their responsibilities behind to search for their best friend.

Act II- Sous La Grande Maison

Jimin- Chillzzz Ice Cream Parlor, Black Swan Brewery and Pub, Cozy Acres Retirement Home  

Thursday 7:38pm-10:01pm

Jimin spent most of the day retracing your steps like a mad man. He went back to the motel and, walked along the path you would have taken to the bus stop, he showed your photo to every person who would give him the time of day. He spoke with subway drivers, businessmen in suits, homeless people but, no one spoke up, most of them wouldn’t even look at him…

He cried beneath the awning of the motel, not even noticing the judgmental looks that were thrown his way.

For good measure, he calls you and texts you another 50 times as he tries to swallow the acidic taste of fear crawling up his throat.

Where the fuck were you?

He visits your boss at the ice cream store but, she says she hasn’t seen you since your shift Monday morning.

He makes his way to the dive bar you wait tables at but, they have the same story except they haven’t seen you since Sunday night.

Everyone at both locations says the same thing though…

“It’s so unlike her you know? To just disappear.”

“I really hope nothing happened to her.”

“Whatever you need, just let us know.”

Jimin feels like he wants to pass out.

He feels like he’s been dropped in the dead center of a nightmare.

But, he knows he has to act quickly

The city has a habit of swallowing people whole and, he’ll be damned if his girlfriend falls victim to its clutches.

He makes a final stop at the retirement home you work in to speak with Xander.

Xander shows his concern for you in a big way; it makes Jimin slightly uneasy.

“Oh my god what are we gonna do? The police aren’t on it? How are they not taking this seriously?

“Jimin, we have to find her man, I would be devastated if something happened to her.”

“She’s my best employee, she’s absolutely precious…”

Jimin has half a mind to tell him to ‘shut the fuck up’

This is his girlfriend.

His everything.

Not Xander’s.

But Jimin knows he’s sensitive right now and, Xander’s behavior is a nice change of pace.

At least he gives a shit.

With all of his leads coming up dry, he decides to visit the one person who just might be able to help.

Someone who always assured him that they would be there should he need absolutely anything.

Someone who just might have the means to operate above the incompetence of the police department.

“Come here.” Lady’s voice is tender and, reassuring as she quickly pulls Jimin into her chest.

He collapses into her arms, an abrupt sob leaving his lips as he clutches the satin of her blouse.

Lady is a special person.

Jimin started working as her pool boy just over a year ago and, she quickly welcomed him into her life.  

She was becoming the mother Jimin never had and, in this moment, in the wake of his misery, he needs her more than ever.

“I don’t understand-“ He cries into her neck, her perfume is far too strong for his liking but, he remains close to her anyway, “Where is she? She never does this, she always gets back to us I- fuck…what if something happened to her? What if someone ki- ki…oh my god.” He wants to throw up, he can’t even get the word to pass his lips because, the thought of you being harmed literally sickens him.

“Shhh shhh shh, honey it’s ok, just breathe for me alright? Just breathe…” She coos, rubbing his back gently, her face tight with sadness, “I already have my guys working on it. They got started this morning once the news broke. I’ll put flyers up at the country club as well; everyone I have at my disposal is out there looking for her alright?”

Jimin just nods, he isn’t able to say much through his tears but, her words do calm him slightly.

Lady has resources that Jimin doesn’t have and, for the first time, he is going to accept her help.

She’s offered to assist him many times in a myriad of different ways:

Rent money, tuition assistance, money for textbooks, a new car…

But Jimin’s turned them down all the same; he never wants to feel like he owes someone for something.

He accepts the free food and, the occasional fancy clothes she gifts from her deceased husbands closet and, if anyone thinks of judging him for strutting around in dead guy clothes, Jimin would promptly remind them that he is wearing Gucci and, they are not.

This time though, Jimin doesn’t protest; he will take all the help he can get from anywhere he can get it…

“Let's get you a cup of tea or something, c’mon...”  

Lady ushers Jimin to the rich color of her lignum vitae dining table and, she even ensures she pulls out a chair for him to rest easy on.  

Jimin practically slumps into it, his body helpless.

Lady already had a pot ready for him and, although Jimin tries to act like he doesn’t enjoy it, she knows Lavender is his favorite...

“The police have her vehicle information in their news report, I’ll have my guys searching for her civic in no time.” She murmurs, pouring his tea and, eyeing him carefully.

Jimin winces, watching the steam rise from his cup, trying to hold onto reality, “Her car is still in the shop.”  

“That’s right my goodness,” Lady puts a hand to her chest, shaking her head,  “Do you think the person who cut her cables had something to do with this?”  

His heart sinks but, he hesitates a moment before responding, dread filling his chest once again, “I- I don’t know maybe? It’s not impossible. It’s been in the shop for the last two months though, it wouldn’t make sense for them to wait so long. Oh god, unless they have been watching her? Do you really thinks that’s possible?”  

She brings him into her arms again, the pads of her fingers rubbing gently against his lower back, “There are sick people in this world Jimin. But I promise you honey, we are going to do everything we can to bring her home.”  

Jimin leaves Lady’s house with a slightly better outlook.

Slightly

You are still missing of course but, at least he has someone powerful on his side.

Lady is an incredible person and, without her, Jimin thinks he might lose his mind.

Jin- The Night Market, Friday 8:22pm  

You all like the rooftop for different reasons, Jin likes it for the landscape of the night market: The neon lights illuminating the different food carts, the bustling movement of all of the patrons eager to try the next deep fried delicacy. As he walks along the wet cement, he smiles to himself, remembering all the times he used to drag the seven of you down here. He always saved his tips from the restaurant, and once a month, he would splurge, buying everything in sight. The complaints would soon cease as he shoved fried cheese in your faces, the desire to eat like royalty overcoming the group. And you would, you’d eat until you couldn’t walk anymore and, Jin would feel warmth blooming in his chest as he watched all of his friends, whom were more like family, eating well. He’s the oldest, he would think, it was his job to watch over the people he loves. It’s in this moment, as he’s reminiscing that he feels despair tear through his heart.  

He had failed.  

Because, one of you were gone.  

One of you weren’t safely tucked under his mother-goose gaze.  

Your smile comes through his subconscious then and, it feels like a thousand tiny needles scurrying up his cheeks to prick at his eyes.  

You always laughed at his puns, no matter how stupid they were

You always tried whatever food he put in front of you, no matter how strange or spicy it was, you’d humor him.  

With a heavy hand, he wipes the tears from his eyes before they can spill over.  

He doesn’t have time for pain right now.  

Because, tonight he’s at the market for different reasons.  

Tonight, he was here to investigate.  

The Night Market vendors are an interesting crowd, most of them were older, just trying to make ends meet by selling their creations but, there were a few newcomers that Jin’s noticed over the years.  

They were lured in by the neon, the paper lanterns, the money…  

They didn’t understand the culture of this place and, Jin resented them for it.  

“Yah! You’re the money man yeah? Are you buying me out tonight? Where are your friends?”  

Jin is forced out of his inner thoughts and, he meets the eyes of an older gentleman who owns the Mandu stand; one of his favorites.  

“I’m not here for much tonight, my friends are busy but,” He selfishly scans the selection of dumplings, plump and ripe for the taking. He points to a pork and vegetable one to the right of the case, “I’ll take one of the pork ones for the road. Is it ok if I ask you a few questions?”  

The man wrinkles his brow in confusion, “Me? I guess so, what can I do for you?”  

With a deep sigh, Jin pulls out his phone, with a photo of you as his home screen. He swallows back the bit of misery in his throat as he sees your face, before showing it to the vendor, “This is my friend. She went missing three days ago and, she was last seen up on that rooftop over there, “ He gestures to the motel, “She left alone and, she would have walked right past here on her way home. Did you see her at all?”  

As he pushes his glasses up his nose, the man squints at the photo, trying to make sense of it. After a moment, he shakes his head.  

“Sorry. I haven’t seen her.” His eyes flit over the image again, a bit of darkness lingering in his eyes, “Pretty little thing though…”  

Jin immediately rips his phone from the man’s view, disgusted at his comment but, he doesn’t want to make a scene and risk his line of information being cut off.  

“Thanks. If you remember anything let me know. I’ll be around for a bit.”  

He grunts in response, his interest waning as another customer walks up to his stand.  

Jin feels an immense amount of frustration; why the fuck does this man think its ok to gawk at you despite what he’s just told him?  

Does he have no heart?  

Raking his hand through his hair, Jin takes a deep breath. He doesn’t have time for his emotions right now, he needs to push forward.  

He moves throughout the stands, showing your picture to every familiar face that will give him the time of day.  

The chorus of no’s that echo back at him, slowing chip away at his resolve and, he feels himself growing desperate as he nears the end of the market.  

He hates how suspicious he feels.  

He hates that this place, which is home to so many happy memories, is now shrouded with a kind of darkness that he’s only ever read about in books.  

He feels sick with the thought of coming back without you; he doesn’t think he ever would.  

There is a few stands left, which Jin moves through without success before he finally reaches the Tteokbokki stand.  

It’s his favorite and, normally he’d be shoveling an entire tray of it into his mouth.  

But tonight, the smell of the sauce makes his stomach turn.  

“Excuse me, have you-“ Jin begins wearily but, he’s quickly cut off by the man beneath the umbrella.  

“You’re here about the missing girl right?”  

The man’s brow rises but, it does nothing to smooth out the valleys of wrinkles between his eyes.  

“I am…” Jin crosses his arms, reluctant to continue the conversation as the man smirks salaciously in his direction, “How did you know?”  

His smirk grows when he holds up a yellow walkie-talkie, “Word travels fast. I’m guessing you’re here to ask me if I’ve seen her and, I would tell you that I have but, unless you have something to offer me. I’m afraid that’s all I plan on telling you.”  

Jin’s face immediately flushes red. Anger floats up beneath the surface of his surprise but, he knows that if he reacts in the way he that wants to, the man will shut down.  

“What do you want?” He mutters through the tension in his jaw.  

The man’s gaze travels over Jin’s figure before settling on the pocket of his jeans, “Buy me out for the night and, I’ll tell you what I saw...”  

A quick scan of his cart shows Jin roughly 3 dozen trays of Tteokbokki. Even if he had an appetite, he doesn’t have the stomach or the means to consume that much food, nor does he have a way to get it back to his apartment.  

“How much is your cart worth?”  

The man tilts his head, squinting his eyes in thought, “Well, its 3 for a tray and there’s 47 on the cart…you do the math.”  

Jin finally does send a glare towards the man; enraged that he’s capitalizing off of his grief but, he types in the calculations none the less.  

“$141…” He concludes, showing him the number on his cell phone, “I don’t have that much.”  

With a shrug, the man gives Jin a look of faux disappointment, “That’s a shame, I guess my memory is a little hazy then. Maybe I saw her, maybe I didn’t-  have a good night.”  

“Wait- please I…” Jin takes a deep breath, pulling out a wad of cash from his pocket, “I only have $100 right now but, I can get more. I work at the sushi restaurant up the street, I’ll bring you all of my tips for the next week.”  

The man eyes him suspiciously, mulling over his offer, “The next two weeks…”  

Jin’s never been so angry in his life and, part of him wants to flip over his cart and, leave him to clean up the mess but, he knows he has to bargain with him.  

He has no other choice.  

“Fine.” He throws the money onto the counter with a stern look, “Keep the food, just tell me what you know.”  

The man takes his time, counting the money greedily, smirking with satisfaction as he tucks it into his shirt pocket.  

“I saw your friend leaving that motel you always hang out at. The one across the street-“ He nods to the ratty building, “She left and walked along the road for some time before a man approached her.”  

Jin’s heart picks up, “A man? What man? What did he look like?”  

“I didn’t get a close look. He was tall and dressed in some fancy ass suit. They walked together all the way up the road until I couldn’t see them anymore. She didn’t look uncomfortable; in fact…it kind of looked like she knew him.”  

As the man tells his story, Jin writes all of the details down in his phone but, the last bit confuses him.  

He didn’t know you knew anyone that owned a suit.  

Suits are a luxury that neither he nor any of the other guys can afford.  

So who were you with then?  

“That’s all? Anything else you remember?”  

The man shakes his head, “That’s all I got for you. Thanks for the cash, I look forward to seeing you again with the rest of it.”  

A chorus of snickering comes with his last comment and, Jin finally decides he’s had enough of him.  

With a roll of his eyes, he walks away, leaving the hustle and bustle of the night market to slowly fade behind him as he makes his way up the street.  

He begins typing a message to the group chat, informing everyone of what he found.  

He sees your icon at the top of his screen whilst he does and, it triggers the tears collecting in his eyes to finally spill over.  

Namjoon- The Marquee River, Friday 9:54pm  

Namjoon loves the rooftop for the view of the river. He loves the way the sun and moon expertly change the color of its surface from a crystal blue in the daytime to an inky black in the evening. He loves the way people congregate around it. It’s such a stark contradiction to the city. Everyone always looks so happy and so patient with one another. Families are sprawled out on picnic blankets, friends are laughing and sharing homemade dishes, lovers walk along the river holding hands…  

It’s a magical place.  

Well, at least Namjoon thinks so.  

The boys tease him for it, they call him Namstradamus and, say he concerns himself with hypothetical situations far too often.  

But you get it though.  

You’ve sat with Namjoon on many nights while he smokes a cigarette, watching the interactions with the same fondness he does.  

You laughed as he did little voices for the people he saw and, listened eagerly as he created stories for each of them.  

You told him he should be a writer and Namjoon felt a satisfaction that his imagination could entertain you.  

Deep down, being a writer is something he’s always dreamed of.  

He wishes he was on the rooftop with you now, laughing and bullshitting.  

He wishes he could see your smile when Jimin shouts a raunchy compliment your way and, makes a comment about how Namjoon is trying to steal you from him.  

Its all for fun though.  

Namjoon doesn’t love you like that but, the way he loves you makes tonight’s task so much harder.  

He loves you like a sister and, his sister is gone.  

Vanished.  

And he has to figure out why.  

Namjoon is wearing his father’s coat; it’s the only thing warm enough for this weather he tells himself but, really he wears it because it’s the nicest thing in his home.  

It makes him feel capable, even though he’s never felt more inadequate in his life.  

There isn’t many people left at the river tonight, the cold weather is keeping everyone inside along with the news of your disappearance.  

Namjoon has someone in mind though.  

Someone who is always here: the groundskeeper.  

Namjoon notices him emerge as people begin packing up their things but, he doesn’t approach him just yet.  

He stands back and observes his behavior, carefully planning what he needs to say.  

But, Namjoon doesn’t get much time as the groundskeeper has noticed him too.  

“What is it you seek madam? I can do anything…anything you wish.”  

The voice of the groundskeeper is ominous; it makes the hair on the back of his neck stand at attention but, his words confuse him even more.  

“Uh excuse me, I’m really sorry to bother you but, I was wondering if you’ve seen my friend. She went missing a few nights ago, I have her picture here…” Namjoon goes to pull out his phone but, the man stops him with a laugh.  

It’s not a pleasant sound, it’s crazed and dismissive, it doesn’t mirror the laughter he normally hears from the river.  

It makes his stomach turn.  

“I know what the princess looks like madam, I’ve seen her looking down at me many times.” The moonlight shines upon his face then and, it’s enough for Namjoon to make out his features.  

He looks filthy, skin alight with grease, hair matted with the same substance, his eyes are blue and unfocused. A giant scar interrupts his features and, Namjoon does his best to remain composed despite his appearance.  

“So have you seen her? She would have walked right passed here on her way home.” He flashes the picture towards him anyway but, it only prompts another ridiculous laugh from him and, Namjoon feels himself growing irritated.  

“Yep! That’s the one! The princess marked for slaughter, oh but she runs from her fate doesn’t she? She runs and runs and runs runs…..she runs a lot. It’s no use madam, you’ll always catch her in the end.”  

As he hears the word slaughter, Namjoon feel his blood boil over and, he quickly grabs the snickering man by his shirt, “What the fuck are you talking about?”  

The man falters with a gasp but, his laughter continues, his breath fowl and unkempt, “She is gone forever. Left to destiny…left to rot…”  

Namjoon feels his heart jump in his chest and he tugs at the man’s shirt again, harder this time, “What do you mean gone? Did you do something to her? If you touched her, I swear I’ll fucking kill you, my friends and I will tear you apart!”  

Tears don’t aid in Namjoon’s attempt to look tough but, he can’t help himself.  

His grief is unbearable and, all this man can do is laugh…  

“I have nothing for you madam…what’s done is done.” He seethes, bearing his grimy teeth as he smiles  

“Why do you keep calling me madam? You know who I am, you’ve seen my friends before. What the fuck is wrong with you?”  

The man responds by placing a dirty hand against Namjoon’s cheek, leaning in towards his ear, “You are…a work of art madam, it was a pleasure to serve you…”  

With this, the man shoves away from Namjoon’s hold and rushes back to the trashcan, muttering to himself all the while.  

Namjoon feels unsafe around him, especially as he notices how empty the river has become so, he decides to get out of there.  

He wipes his tears as he moves through the trees back towards the noise of the street.  

There is nothing but utter anguish inside of him now.  

One of his best friends is missing and, his only lead is a raging lunatic.  

He sends his findings to the group chat anyway, praying that someone has more information than he does, praying that this nightmare will come to an end. 

 Yoongi- Ginseng Night Club, Saturday 12:04am,  

Yoongi hates clubs. There’s too many people, they’re too loud, everyone is drunk and stupid. He doesn’t really see the point in them. However, Ginseng has a vibe he can appreciate. It’s a little more laid back, a little less expensive and, it’s major upside is its showcase of underground rappers. Yoongi’s never had the courage to get up on stage but, he likes to listen from the rooftop. He judges the contestants from a far because, let’s face it, most of them are trash but, he enjoys their enthusiasm. Some of them are actually pretty good though and, a lot of times Yoongi has to swallow the avarice he feels when he hears them. He can rap too but, the only people who know about it are his friends.  

They tell him he’s good enough to make it big but, Yoongi never believes them.  

He misses freestyling on the rooftop though and, tonight he’s missing your reactions in particular.  

You were always pushing him to perform and one day, drunkenly, you had managed to convince him to promise you that he’d perform at Ginseng on his 26th birthday.  

That date is steadily approaching and, although he was terrified of keeping that promise, he desperately wishes that were the reason he was pushing through the crowd at Ginseng right now.  

But it isn’t…  

Tonight, he’s here to deal with bleaker matter: your disappearance.  

Ginseng is cheaper for a reason and, that reason happens to be the crowd.  

It’s known for its cast of shady characters: drug dealers, con artists, underground fighters, etc.  

He thinks it’s a little pointless, walking into a room full of potential criminals, hoping one of them has the heart to spill any information regarding his missing friend but, he had to try.  

Yoongi decided on all black for the evening; it makes him feel bigger and, prepares him for the onslaught of human interaction he’s dreading.  

Immediately, his chest is met with the hammering base from the speakers, whilst his nose is met with the stench of cheap liquor and, all eyes are on him.  

He’s an unfamiliar face in a club that profits off of regular attendees but, he swallows his anxiety and, soldiers on, heading straight for the bar at the back of the club.  

“What can I get for you?” A short haired woman barks over the music,  sending a mild glare Yoongi’s way.  

He notices the tattoos adorning her neck and arms and, he feels intimidated by her presence but, he responds none the less.  

“Whiskey neat.” He mutters, sliding a ten her way and, she eagerly strips it from the counter, shoving it into the register.  

“You’ve never been here before.” She notes dryly, grabbing a bottle of Jack from the shelf.  

Yoongi nods, shifting on the barstool, “Yeah, I’m here to see if anyone’s seen my friend. She disappeared on this street the other night…”  

The woman smirks, nodding her head towards the crowd of people, “Do these people look like they’d be up for snitching?”  

He glances back momentarily, “No but, I thought I’d try anyway. I have a picture of her…” He pulls out his phone, flashing the image of you towards the bartender.  

She gives it a once over before shaking her head, “Haven’t seen her. I’d remember her if I had. Girlfriend?”  

“No…” He clicks the side of his phone, shutting the screen off, “Do you know if I could talk to someone who comes here a lot? Like a regular or something? I’m not trying to cause trouble but-“  

“These people aren’t gonna tell you shit unless you speak to Jaebeom first and, I don’t know if he’d be willing to talk to scrawny little thing like you.”  

Yoongi has to swallow back the feelings he gets from her insult, feeling smaller and smaller under her gaze.  

“Who’s Jaebeom?”  

“The owner.” She pushes the drink Yoongi’s way, spilling some of it onto the dirty countertop, “He only does business in Korean…”  

“Call him up then,” Yoongi retorts sternly, growing annoyed with her attitude and the carelessness with his liquor, “, that’s my native language. Or tell me where he is…”  

“He’s a busy man… I don’t know if he’ll have time for you…”                  

“Ask him anyways.”  

There’s a bit of a stare off lingering between the two of them but, Yoongi doesn’t falter, his confidence waxing.  

He’ll be a dick if he has to, he doesn’t care; he has to figure out where you are.  

She rolls her eyes, grabbing the receiver from underneath the bar before muttering something into it. Something causes her to raise her brows in surprise and, she looks a little disappointed as she passes the receiver to Yoongi.  

He takes it, holding it up to his ear,  

“What do you want?”  

Moving the receiver to his lips, he responds clearly, trying to mask his nerves, “My friend is missing and, I want to know if you’ve seen her. Or if you know anything about her disappearance.”  

The man chuckles deeply on the other end of the line, “Am I a suspect?”  

“Everyone is. But I’m not a cop; I’m just here to see if anyone has seen anything.”  

“And the police? Do they know about your little friend?”  

Yoongi grasps the receiver firmer, attempting to amp up his toughness as he responds, “The police are fucking useless. Look, just let me show you here picture, if you haven’t seen her, I’ll leave.”  

There’s only a bit of silence but, it’s enough to get his heart racing before he finally gets a reply, “Second floor, room 632. Don’t make me wait for you.”  

Yoongi obliges, pounding his drink and rushing off to meet the man behind the voice.  

Jaebeom seems to tower over Yoongi despite the mere inches he has on him and, he looks more intimidating than Yoongi ever could.  

Three facial piercings, arms wrapped completely in tattoos, loose tank top adorning his muscular figure; if Yoongi were in a different world, he’d be wishing he was meeting this stranger in his room for different reasons.  

“Let’s see it then…”  

Yoongi shows him the photo of you and much to his surprise, Jaebeom nods, pointing a finger towards it, “I’ve seen her before, not recently though. She came in a few months ago and bought a bottle of Midori from me. She’s your girlfriend?”  

Yoongi shakes his head, “No, she’s with my other friend but, you’ve seen her? Did she come in alone?”  

The room smells of marijuana and as Jaebeom lifts a joint to his lips, Yoongi can see why.  

He nods, blowing out a billow of smoke, careless to where it ends up, “She was alone yes, I didn’t speak to her much. She was polite, left me a tip, batted her eyes a bit and left. She’s cute, it’s a shame she’s taken.” He smirks, lifting the joint to his mouth again, “Both literally and figuratively….”  

Yoongi takes a deep breath through his nose, attempting to calm down, “You haven’t seen her since?”  

“No. Honestly, why are you here? Do you really think my guys are into kidnapping? There are plenty of hot woman downstairs. No one is looking to steal. You’re on the wrong side of town for this shit. “  

“What do you mean?”  

“I mean,” Jaebeom flicks the ash onto the floor, nodding to the window beside him, “You should be asking questions in the Upside. They hunt poor bitches like that for sport.”  

Yoongi’s anger floods his brain before he can process everything he’s said, “Watch your mouth. She has a name and, I suggest you learn it before I-“  

With a puffed out chest, Jaebeom steps toward Yoongi, “Before what huh?”  

Yoongi moves back, shaking his head, “Nothing I-“ He sighs, holding his hands up, “I’m sorry. I’m angry, its been a long week. My friends and I just want her home.”  

Jaebeom deflates a bit, scanning over the smaller man in front of him, “My sister disappeared two years ago. Same street. Like I said,” Jaebum plops down in his arm chair, sadness flashes through his eyes, “You’re in the wrong part of town…”  

He nods, biting his lip at Jaebeom’s admission, “Did they ever find her?”  

“They might have…” He takes a hit of the joint, blowing it out with a scoff, “if they fucking looked.”  

Yoongi’s blood runs cold then, seeing the similarities between the two situations.  

No one cares about the people who disappear from this part of town.  

He leaves Jaebeom’s room, feeling worse than when he had arrived but, he reports his findings to the group chat anyway.  

Maybe Jaebeom was right, maybe him and his friends were looking on the wrong side of town…  

Jungkook and Hoseok- The Paybrook Motel, Saturday 7:07am  

Jungkook and Hoseok are newer to the harshness of the city. They come from sweet families, with good intentions. The lack of financial resources is compensated with a lot of love and encouragement. Their lives were similar: simple and sweet. They didn’t have too many run ins with childhood trauma or absent parental figures; they loved their home life, probably to a fault.  But given their lack of money and their love of their friends, they also found reasons to love the rooftop. Hoseok uses the concrete as an affordable practice space and Jungkook uses the view as the main muse for his photography.  

You’re running through their head as they approach the motel.  

Hoseok feels a pang of sadness in his chest as he remembers all the times you would cheer him on from your lawn chair, calling him the b-boy of the year, smiling from ear to ear even when he fucks up his choreography.  

Jungkook remembers showing you an album he made of the summer the eight of you had. He remembers you growing teary eyed as he neared the end and, telling him what an amazing photographer he was. He swallows back his tears, gripping Hoseok’s hand as they approach the entrance to the motel, taking a deep breath.  

“Maybe we shouldn’t-” Hoseok looks uneasily toward their connected hands, his teeth tugging on his bottom lip. “I just don’t want them to say anything to you.”  

Jungkook looks down, his chestnut irises narrowed in confusion, “But, we’re just friends hyung...”  

Hoseok nods, sending a sweet smile towards his pure friend, “I know Kook but, they don’t know that. I promise I’ll hold it as soon we leave ok?”  

And Jungkook really has to act like this doesn’t further his misery, sniffling once as he finally nods, pulling away from his best friend, naïve to his reasons for ending their platonic affection.  

Hoseok pats his arm before swinging open the stained-glass door to the motel, allowing Jungkook to step in front of him.  

There is a woman sitting behind the counter, staring intently at her computer screen, not even bothering to look up at the two men that have just entered.  

“Good morning.” Hoseok sends a watery smile her way, which she doesn’t reciprocate.  

In fact, she doesn’t even look his way but, instead she shoves a piece of paper across the wooden countertop, “Fill this out, there’s only two rooms available- “ At this point, she does eye the two of them with a judging glance, “single beds only.”  

“We don’t need a room mam we-” Hoseok begins, feeling rather annoyed but, Jungkook cuts him off and, practically shoves his phone over the counter.  

“This is our friend, her name is Y/N and, she went missing four days ago and, the last place we saw her is here. Have you seen her? Do you remember if anything suspicious happened?”  

Jungkook’s voice is reedy, full of desperation to the point that he grows a little out of breath.  

Hoseok had a plan with a little more finesse but, he knows how desperate Jungkook is to find you.  

He feels the same way...  

The woman looks affronted by his sudden outburst but, she glances at his phone anyway. It’s only for a moment before she brings her attention Hoseok’s way, not bothering to address Jungkook.  

“Nope. I’ve never seen her, sorry.”  

The dismissiveness in her tone surprises Hoseok. He was expecting her to keep her responses to a minimum but, her lie takes him back.  

“Wait are you serious? I live on the 8th floor, my friends come in here all the time. There’s no way you’ve never seen her before.”  

He steps closer to the counter and, the way the woman looks up stirs something inside of him.  

It’s unsettling and insidious.  

It’s as if she’s deceiving them and, she wants them to know she’s deceiving them.  

“I’ve seen you here before,” She shrugs, conceding with part of his point, “but I’ve never seen her. Although, I’m surprised she doesn’t rent a room here too, she looks like the type.”  

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Hoseok feels the venom in his tone and, although it’s unlike him to lose his temper, something about this woman enrages him.  

“Hyung please...” Jungkook’s soft plea paired with a hand to his lower back is enough for Hoseok to back down for the moment but, his nerves are still alight with suspicion. “Mam, we’re really sorry, we’re just worried about our friend. She’s been missing for a while and the police aren’t really doing anything. Are you sure that you’ve never seen her?”  

The woman seems to soften a bit momentarily but, as something on her computer seems to move suddenly into her view, she toughens up again, shaking her head.  

“Never. Is there anything else we- I can do for you?”  

Hoseok grits his teeth, restraining his urges to throw her glass of iced tea into her face.  

“No, I guess not.”  

She offers a thin smile, that doesn’t reach her eyes, “Have a nice day then. Thank you for visiting The Paybrook Motel.”  

Before Hoseok can throw an insult her way, Jungkook offers a pleasant goodbye before practically dragging his hyung out of the lobby.  

“Yah! Why were you so easy on her? She’s obviously lying! Did you see the look on her face? She knows something Jungkook, I’m telling you she does...” Hoseok is ablaze with frustration, moving quickly to the end of the awning that decorates the front of the motel.  

He’s waiting for Jungkook to join him but, instead he sees his friend moving aimlessly towards him, tears in his eyes.  

The sight makes Hoseok’s heart ache.  

“Hyung...don’t you get it? No one wants to help us.” His voice is wavering through his sadness, doing it’s best to keep afloat, “Even if she knows something, she doesn’t want to tell us. The police won’t help, the signs we put up are all in the sewer by now- no one gives a shit that she’s gone.”  

At this moment, Jungkook breaks down, his tears finally streaming down his face. He stops in the middle of the walkway, disregarding the confused looks from the patrons heading into the building.  

“Shit Kookie, don’t cry ok?”  

Hoseok rushes over to him in the midst of his hypocrisy, because he’s crying too.  

He hasn’t cried since you disappeared but, seeing his best friend break down and, knowing that life would never again be the same crushes him in a way he can’t handle.  

“Come here...come here. Hyung is here ok? Ok? We gotta pull it together.” He sniffles, pulling Jungkook into his arms, placing a kiss on top of his head.  

Jungkook doesn’t let up and, continues to cry silently into Hoseok’s t-shirt.  

“I just want her to come home hyung...”  

Hoseok nods immediately, tilting his head back to slow his tears. It’s a useless endeavor but, he tries anyway until a man’s voice interrupts their moment.  

“I saw her.”  

Hoseok and Jungkook are quick to pull away, turning their attention towards the voice in question.  

It’s obvious the man is a security guard of some kind but, Hoseok has never seen him before.  

“Excuse me?”  

The man nods to the rooftop, “I saw your friend the night she left here.”  

Hoseok approaches the man, noticing the way he seems to shrink away from his presence, “What did you see? Did you see anyone with her?”  

He nods, “Yeah, that small dude you hang out with, the messy hair...he was wearing a yellow shirt?”  

Jungkook moves to stand behind Hoseok, “That’s her boyfriend. He’s one of our friends too, he walked her out that night. He came right back up though, did you see anyone else?”  

The security guard smirks, “Hm that’s interesting.”  

Hoseok narrows his eyes, “Why?”  

The guard nods to the street parallel to the conversation, “Because she met up with someone else...”  

Jungkook and Hoseok make eye contact then, a bit of shock running through them.  

“Who was it?”  

The guard chuckles, shrugging his shoulders, his indifference insulting the two of them, “Listen, I’m new around here alright?  I don’t know names or shit like that, I just know that after your friend was kissing on one guy, she met up with some dude in a suit, you can do with that what you will but, that’s all I got for you.”  

“Jin hyung said something about a suit too.” Jungkook mutters beside Hoseok prompting a nod from him.  

“Thank you. We appreciate it and, uh listen if you hear or see anything else. I’m on the 8th floor. Room 26.”  

The guard nods, tipping his hat toward the both of them, “Will do. Be safe out there, this city is uh, an interesting place.”  

As the man moves back towards the motel Jungkook turns to Hoseok, bewildered by the information they’ve received.  

“Hyung do you-” Jungkook hesitates, the words not wanting to leave his tongue, “-do you think she left on her own? She wouldn’t do that right?”  

Hoseok keeps an eye on the guard as he disappears behind the stained glass, a sick feeling looming in his stomach.  

“No Jungkook, she wouldn’t.”  

Taehyung- La Petite Galerie, Saturday 12:46pm  

Taehyung's been painting since he was a child. Adopted into a French family, he learned his two favorite crafts from an early age: painting and charisma. He was the star of his elementary school, wooing his classmates with the use of his second language and, wooing his teachers with his painting abilities. Consistently, he placed first in his school’s art fair. He was labeled as a prodigy and, selected for all of the finest performing arts schools in the city. However, prestigious art schools come at a price his family couldn’t afford. So, he had to stay behind with the rest of his classmates, whilst his parents begin saving money. He’s so thankful that he did though because, high school is where he met his second family. The family who he’s met on the rooftop since he was 15 years old, the family who’s helped him through his darkest days, the family who’s recently been torn apart...  

He’s missing you as he walks into the gallery.  

It’s one of his favorite parts about the rooftop along with the view of the city skyline.  

You and Taehyung have sat together many times, admiring the well-dressed people walking into the gallery.  

You would always say that they were simply apart of a different world and, that you never hated them for their riches.  

Taehyung admired that about you because, he wishes he could say the same.  

But, he knows he’d be lying.  

One day, Taehyung had been brave enough to come into the gallery and, he actually made friends with the owner.  

Taehyung makes friends with everyone.  

But this woman, Clementine, had a particular soft spot for his French abilities and, gave Taehyung discounted admission for all of his friends.  

Eventually, Taehyung brought the eight of you in with him and, much to his surprise, you all enjoyed yourselves.  

He remembers that day as he steps under the warm glow of the gallery lights...  

Jin made puns about the paintings  

Namjoon endlessly dissected the potential meanings behind them  

Yoongi had admired them quietly, murmuring observations that no one could hear  

Hoseok laughed way too loud at the statue bestowing a marble penis  

Jungkook kept to Taehyung’s side as he expertly explained the stories behind the artwork  

But the image that hurts Taehyung the most is the way you looked at Jimin as he stared in awe up at the paintings.  

Taehyung had never seen someone so enamored with another person before and, he realized why so many artists use love as their muse.  

He felt happiness in his heart that you and Jimin were so happy, so much so, that he didn’t even bother thinking of his own romantic future.  

He was content.  

His family was here, admiring art in their own way, just as it was intended.  

A bit of panic rushes through him at the thought of never having you all together again.  

But determination comes along with it, reminding him why he’s visiting the gallery today.  

“Excusez-moi, j'ai rendez-vous avec Clémentine aujourd'hui (Excuse me, I have an appointment with Clementine today).”  

The woman behind the ivory desk smiles pleasantly at him, “Ah oui Monsieur Kim, asseyez-vous et je sais qu'elle est arrivée.” (Ah yes, Mr. Kim, have a seat and I’ll let her know you’ve arrived)  

He bows his head slightly, sending a tight-lipped smile her way, “Merci.” (Thank you)  

Taehyung takes a seat on the upholstered chairs near the entrance, thankful that the crowd level is mild today. It’s unexpected for a Saturday but, he doesn’t complain, he doesn’t think he can handle excessive human interaction.  

He waits for roughly 10 minutes before a nimble woman with auburn hair comes bustling out of the back room, arms opening wide as soon as she sees him.  

“Taehyung, ma chérie viens ici, viens à Clémentine...” (Taehyung, my darling come here, come to Clementine)  

Her pink lipstick accentuates the pout in her lips as she ushers Taehyung into a tight hug, her fake breasts providing very little comfort but, he accepts her affection anyway.  

He needs it.  

“Bonjour Clementine, (Hello Clementine)” He pats her hips respectively, smiling warmly as he pulls away, “Merci de me rencontrer... (Thanks for meeting me).”  

She scoffs, waving him off as she eagerly pulls him into her office, “Non-sens, je n'accepterai pas de gratitude de votre part pendant cette période.” (Nonsense, I will not except gratitude from you during this time)  

Taehyung offers her a half smile, adjusting his coat and stepping through the archway.  

Clementine’s office is tasteful, covered in various shades of pink and her most favorite pieces she’s hand-picked from the gallery.  

It’s a little loud for Taehyung but, he agrees that it’s uniquely Clementine and, he feels content enough in her presence to deal with it.  

She rushes around her desk, plopping down on her pearl encrusted office chair, “Asseyez-vous ici mon doux garçon...” (Sit here my sweet boy)  

Her face stays firm with pity as she places her manicured fingers on the marble, “Dis-moi, ont-ils entendu quelque chose?” (Tell me, have they heard anything?)  

Taehyung left posters at the gallery the day after you went missing and, Clementine was all too eager to post them all over the building’s exterior.  

He shakes his head, settling into the crushed velvet beneath him, “Non. La police n'a rien. J'ai peur qu'ils ne la recherchent même pas.” (No. The police have nothing. I’m afraid they aren’t even looking for her.)  

With a tsk of her lips, Clementine shakes her head, “Inutile.” (Useless) She spits the word, leaning back into her chair, “Avez-vous trouvé quelque chose? Je sais que tu as dit que tes amis regardaient.” (Have you found anything? I know you said your friends were looking)  

“Nous avons entendu quelques choses, mais nous n'avons pas encore beaucoup de pistes. On se retrouve demain soir pour faire un plan.” (We’ve heard a few things but, we don’t have many leads. We meet tomorrow evening to make a plan.) He feels the disappointment in his heart, wishing he was giving her a different answer, his predicament leaving him helpless.  

“Desole.” (Sorry) She replies, pouting her lips and tucking her auburn hair behind her ear, “C'est dégoûtant de voir comment cette ville est dirigée.” (It’s disgusting how this city is run.)  

A humorless laugh leaves Taehyung’s lip as he nods, “Oui. Oui ça l’est. C'est pourquoi je suis venu vers toi clémentine.” (Yes. Yes it is. That’s why I came to you Clementine.)  

She looks a little flustered by his comment, scooting closer to the edge of her seat, placing a hand to her chest, “Moi? Qu'est-ce que tu as besoin de moi?” (Me? What do you need from me?)  

Taehyung feels a little dirty at his next move but, he does it without a second thought.  

Smiling, he extends a hand towards Clementine, catching her gaze with his, “Nous venons de mondes différents oui?” (We come from different worlds, yes?)  

Against her better judgement, Clementine places her hand timidly atop Taehyungs, nearly shuddering at his warmth, “Oui, mais ça n'a pas d'importance.” (Yes but, that doesn’t matter)  

Taehyung pretends to be surprised by her answer, “Non? Pouvez-vous voir au-delà de cela?” (No? Can you see beyond that?)  

She leans towards his voice, allured by the way it caramelizes in the air around her, “Je ne vois pas ces choses. L'argent, la couleur, l'âge, ce n'est pas important.” (I don’t see these things. Money, color, age, they aren’t important)  

If he were in a different situation, he would notice the ignorance in her statement. But instead, he begins rubbing his thumb over the back of her knuckles, smiling prettily all the while.  

Clementine is melting beneath his touch, her body subconsciously slouching in her chair.  

“Vous vous souciez de moi malgré ces choses, n'est-ce pas?” (You care for me despite those things, don’t you?)  

Eagerly, she nods, licking her lips before tucking her bottom lip between her teeth, “Oui mon amour.” (Yes my love.)  

Taehyung  leans closer to her, mustering up the best smolder he can manage, “J'ai besoin de savoir ce que vous entendez dans votre monde chéri.” (I need to know what you hear in that world of yours darling.)  

Bless her, Clementine really is doomed.  

“Mon monde? Que voulez-vous dire?” (My world? What do you mean?)  

Taehyung delights in her confusion, taking a moment to seal the deal as he raises her knuckles to his lips, “Vous êtes au country club de Chamomile oui?” (You are in the Chamomile Country Club yes?)  

As he asks his question, he presses a few kisses to her skin, keeping eye contact with her all the while.  

Clementine lets out a shaky breath, placing her free hand to her chest, “Mon dieu...” (My god...) She mutters under her breath, fanning herself before responding to his original question, “Oui, Je suis.” (Yes, I am)  

He grins, still kissing over the expanse of her knuckles, “Dites-moi, entendez-vous quelque chose d'étrange lorsque vous assistez?” (Tell me, do you hear anything strange when you attend?)  

“Étrange?” (Strange?)  

“Oui, etrange. Quelque chose que vous n'êtes pas censé entendre.” (Yes, strange. Something you are not supposed to hear.)  

Clementine’s eyes shoot back and forth across the room, looking unsure of her response, “Mon amour, tu sais que je veux t'aider mais je déteste les potins. C'est désagréable.” (My love, I really want to help you but, I hate to gossip. It’s distasteful)

Taehyung pretends to smile fondly at her, stopping at her middle finger, dragging his lips up the length of it, “Il n'y a rien de désagréable chez toi bébé.” (There is nothing distasteful about baby) As he gets to the base of her hand, he parts both her middle and ring finger before licking right between the two digits suggestively, “En fait, je parie que vous avez un goût incroyable.” (In fact, I bet you taste incredible)

Clementine’s pink lipstick is smudging with the amount of times she’s licked her lips but, she does it again anyway for good measure.

“Vous avez une langue en argent Taehyung, prévoyez-vous de l'utiliser sur moi?” (You have a silver tongue Taehyung, do you plan to use it on me?)

The deep timbre of his chuckle sends goosebumps up Clementine’s spine and, her body is stretched across her marble desk in a rather uncomfortable way but, she doesn’t care.

All she wants is Taehyung.

“Voici ma proposition: vous utilisez votre langue pour parler et quand vous aurez terminé, j'utiliserai la mienne pour goûter.  Comment cette sonne?” (Here is my proposal: you will use your tongue to speak and, when you are done. I will use mine to taste, how does that sound?)

Clementine’s legs part subconsciously beneath her desk, the pink satin of her underwear stained with her arousal.

With her hand still in Taehyung’s grip she clears her throat, tilting her head innocently, “Le Country Club, que tu dis?” (The country club, you say?)

Taehyung smirks, sending a nod her way, “Oui.” (Yes)

“Je me souviens avoir entendu quelque chose de mal le mois dernier.” (I do remember hearing something wrong last month)

He kisses the back of her hand sweetly before returning it to the desk and, allowing her the proper head space to recall information.

Because, who in their right mind would be able to tell a story whilst Taehyung was kissing on them like that?

Clementine seems to deflate a bit, attempting to compose herself as Taehyung gestures for her to continue.

“Quand j'étais dans le salon de thé, je pouvais entendre les costumes parler de quelque chose qui me faisait un peu peur.” (When I was in the tea room, I could hear the suits talking about something that scared me a little)

Taehyung’s brows furrow, “Les costumes?” (The suits?)

She nods, biting her lip in hesitation, “Oui, c'est ce que les membres appellent les propriétaires du country club.” (Yes, this is what the members call the owners of the country club)

He’s watching her intently, nodding as she explains, “Qu'est-ce que tu as entendu?” (What did you hear?)

She seems to crumble under his gaze like a paper swan; torn between her desire to please him and her desire to remain proper.

“Mon amour, c'est vraiment une chose terrible…” (My love, it’s really a terrible thing…)

Taehyung’s quick on his feet, taking her hand yet again, throwing a yearning look in her direction, “Clémentine, s'il vous plaît ... mon cher ami est absent. Vous pourriez être le seul espoir que mes frères et moi ayons pour la ramener à la maison en toute sécurité. Quand elle reviendra, je te couvrirai de mille baisers pour te remercier de ce que tu as fait.” (Clementine, please…my dear friend is absent. You could be the only hope that my brothers and I have for bringing her home safely. When she returns, I’ll cover you with a thousand kisses to thank you for what you have done)

Clementine sighs dreamily, her hand limp in his grip, her legs parting further at the baritone in his voice,

“Un millier?” (A thousand?)

Taehyung gives her a thin smile, “Un millier. Maintenant s'il te plait, ma rose, dis moi ce que tu as entendu.” (A thousand. Now please, my rose, tell me what you heard)

Clementine shrinks again, looking warily around the room before she finally answers, “Je les ai entendus parler de meurtre.” (I heard them talking about murder)

It’s then Taehyung feels the hot fiery sting of fear stabbing its way into his gut, “Meurtre?” (Murder?)

She senses his uneasiness so; she tightens her grip on his hand as she continues, “Ils ont dit qu'ils prenaient le travail d'un homme important qui allait au-delà de ce qu'ils avaient fait auparavant. Ils étaient inquiets de se faire prendre.” (They said they were taking a job from an important man that went above and beyond anything they’ve done before. They were worried about getting caught)

Taehyung shakes his head in disgust, hoping desperately that you aren’t connected to the conversation she heard.

“Quoi d'autre?” (What else?)

Clementine shakes her head, “C'est tout ce que j'ai pu entendre, mon thé est arrivé pendant leur conversation.” (That’s all I could hear, my tea arrived during their conversation)

Taehyung holds back his anger as he’s reminded of the kind of person Clementine really is.

She’s sweet sure but, she’s tragically selfish.

She’s well off and, only cares for matters that concern her; otherwise she is uninterested.

All he can muster is a tight lipped smile as he suddenly stands from the crushed velvet, “Je vois. Merci de votre temps, appelez-moi si vous vous souvenez d'autre chose.” (I see. Thank you for your time, please call me if you remember anything else)

Clementine rises with him, rushing around her desk, “Tu es en train de partir? Je pensais que tu resterais un moment, tu ne devrais pas être seule en ce moment chérie.” (You’re leaving? I thought you would stay a while, you shouldn’t be alone now honey)

Taehyung gives her the fakest smile he can muster, brushing his thumb across her rubbery cheek, “Je reviendrai te voir. Merci pour votre aide, vous êtes un saint.” (I’ll come back and see you. Thank you for your help, you’re a saint)

She rubs her face against his hand like a cat in heat and, whines for him in a similar fashion, “Mon dieu, nous sommes comme Romeo et Juliette…” (My god, we are like Romeo and Juliet…)

He’s disgusted by her lack of awareness but, he plays the part anyway, tucking a finger underneath her chin, “La séparation est une si douce douleur.” (Parting is such sweet sorrow)

With a brush of his lips against hers, he quickly departs, leaving Clementine alone with her desire.

Taehyung rushes through the afternoon crowd of the gallery, feeling grateful for the crisp air that greets him when he pushes the doors open.

His mind is racing; this is the third mention of the suits and, although it isn’t much, it’s the only solid lead the seven of them have.

They need to re-group as soon as possible because, the likelihood that they fill find you alive wanes with each hour that passes.

Taehyung feels horrified at the thought that passes through his brain:

What if they are already too late?

Act III- Tuer La Grande Maison

“Jungkook, pass me a cigarette…”  

Jimin mumbles from across the fire, the light drained from his eyes.  

Jungkook’s first instinct is to question him; Jimin quit smoking two years ago.  

But, he stops himself just as the words crawl up his tongue and, instead he nods silently.  

“Here you go.” He practically whispers, passing the cigarette to Hoseok who then moves it around the circle.  

“Thanks.”  

There is a stale bit of silence that rushes through the group and, everyone seems to look at Jimin to start things off.  

But Jimin doesn’t look up, he just uses his shaky hands to light his cigarette. He takes the first inhale, his eyelids flutter as the nicotine infiltrates his senses.  

Through the smoke, Jimin shoots a dead gaze across the circle, “I have nothing else to report. Lady says she has her best guys on it but, I don’t think it matters…”  

Yoongi interjects, “Aren’t you wondering about the suits? I mean they have to have something to do with this. It’s not a coincidence that three of our sources mentioned them…”  

Jimin lets a humorless laugh leave his lips, “The suits,” He shakes his head, “They sound like a bunch of fucking DC villains.”  

Namjoon and Jin exchange something wordless between them before Jin decides to speak up,  

“Jimin, I know this is hard for you. It’s hard for all of us but, we need to keep at it. We have good information; we just need to keep digging.”  

Jimin feels his eyes burn with the promise of tears but, he just doesn’t have it in him to cry right now.  

He’s too exhausted.  

With another drag of his cigarette, he meets his hyung’s eyes with a hopelessness that shakes Jin to his core, “We don’t any money hyung, that’s all this town cares about. Maybe that’s all she cared about too…”  

Yoongi is known for his tepid disposition.  

He’s known for being the careful one, the collected one; so much so, that in high school Jin and Namjoon used to call him Mouse and, sometimes they still do.  

But right now, Yoongi is angry and, he’s not angry for the same reasons he was yesterday…  

“What are you insinuating?” Yoongi’s tone is clipped and, the intensity of his stare is enough to garner Jimin’s attention.  

He flicks the ash onto the ground, “I’m just saying…maybe I should consider the possibility that she left town on purpose.”  

“You should consider?” Yoongi bites back and, the tension between the two men immediately disperses throughout the group.  

Jimin glances to the side before looking back at Yoongi, “Yes. It’s been almost a week. The police aren’t interested in finding her, no one seems to want to speak more than they have to and, the only lead we have is that she met up with some man in a suit. According to all of your reports, she looked comfortable with him. So, what if she was? What if she was tired of being in this filthy fucking town?” He scoffs, bitterness in his tone, “I wouldn’t blame her honestly, I just wish she would have disappeared before making me fall in love with her. That would have been nice…”  

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”  

Yoongi stands up, another rare occurrence, and glares at Jimin over the fire, “Do you realize how selfish you sound? You aren’t the only one who lost someone Jimin, she’s like a sister to us. She’s not the type of person to just run away from her problems and, you should be ashamed of yourself for suggesting that she’s that much of a coward.”  

Jimin is a respectful man, he honors the age hierarchy amongst his friends but, he disregards formalities in this moment and fights back.  

“She isn’t a coward. It’s a brave move to leave your family behind to pursue a better life, I just wish she would have left a note or something.”  

“Jimin,” Namjoon interjects, trying to keep the peace as he places a hand on his thigh, “Y/N didn’t run away. She wouldn’t do something like that. C’mon you know her right? She loves you, she loves all of us.”  

Jimin crosses his arms defensively, “Did she? I mean…from what I’ve gathered Namjoon, you don’t abandon the people you love. But she left me anyway…”  

Yoongi moves closer to him, throwing is own cigarette into the fire, his brow furrowed with his growing frustration, “Why do you think your relationship with her is more important?”  

Before Jimin has a chance to respond, Yoongi interrupts him.  

“Because you two fuck? Is that why?” He glares at his best friend, with a level of fury that stifles Jimin’s martyrdom, “She taught Jungkook how to drive, she stayed up with Jin and Namjoon for six weeks straight when they were studying for their exit exams, she took Hoseok to work for months while he was saving up for his car. She gave up her studio for Taehyung’s family and, slept in her car while their house was recovering from last year’s flood. She- “ Yoongi starts out with a strong voice but, it slowly begins to falter as he gets to his addition to the list. His black hair moves fluidly with the breeze and, he looks away from Jimin. “She was there the night I- when I was…”  

The sentence is loaded and, thankfully for Yoongi, he doesn’t need to complete it.  

They all know what he’s talking about.  

Jimin feels an enormous amount of guilt wash over him as he sees his calm and collected hyung, fight the tears in his eyes.  

“Just because she’s your girlfriend doesn’t mean you get a bigger stake in grieving over her, she’s important to all of us, not just you.”  

The heaviness is enough to crush the seven men sitting around the fire.  

Yoongi is frozen in his spot, staring down at Jimin with the authority of the second eldest but also, with the desperation of a friend in need.  

Jimin finally lets the sting win and, the tears fall unceremoniously down his cheeks as he tries to meet Yoongi’s gaze.  

“I’m so sorry hyung.” He’s ashamed of his behavior and, he expects Yoongi to scold him further but, instead he kneels down beside him, placing a firm hand on his leg.  

“We are going to find her.”  

It’s all he says but, it prompts to Jimin to pull him into a hug and, the two of them share a moment before Jungkook says something that shifts the course of the evening.  

“Hyung…” He begins, looking up from his phone, “How does your friend know what kind of car Y/N drives?”  

“My friend?” Jimin sniffles, wiping his tears with the back of his hand, “What friend?”  

Hoseok looks uneasy beside Jungkook as well, staring intently at Jimin as he awaits for an answer.  

“Lady. The one you work for, how does she know what kind of car Y/N drives.”  

Jimin just shrugs and, with a nod he requests another cigarette as Yoongi returns to his seat,  

“She said it was in the news report the police published. I thought it was weird too especially since her car’s been in the shop but, the police have access to that kind of information so it makes sense.” He replies with a narrowed gaze, jerking his chin in his direction, “Why?”  

“There’s nothing about her car in the papers.”  

With Jungkook’s response, time almost freezes as a few members of the group seems to realize something dreadful.  

“Wha- How do you know that?” Jimin hasn’t caught on yet but, he knows his friends well and, there is a change in their posture that he notices, “Why does that matter?”  

Jungkook turns his phone in Jimin’s direction as a demonstration and, his voice begins to shake with his realization, “I searched everywhere hyung, it hasn’t appeared in a single article. How would she know something like that? Her car has been in the shop for two months…”  

Jimin’s reaction is immediate denial but, something crawls up his throat; something he doesn’t want to acknowledge.  

“Are you really thinking Lady had something to do with this?” He guffaws, taking another hit from his cigarette, “You know she’s like 70 right?”  

“Have you ever mentioned that she drives a civic before?” Hoseok chimes in, a look of concern on his face.  

Jimin shrugs, annoyed by their inflated reactions, “I don’t know? I wouldn’t remember telling her something like that but, I wouldn’t doubt if it came up especially when her cables were- “ His mouth parts then, cutting off his own sentence, “When her cables were cut…”  

“What are you talking about?” Yoongi pipes up and, everyone seems to lean towards the center of the circle subconsciously, growing closer without even realizing it.  

“When I was…” Jimin’s eyes are lit up with a thousand emotions as he tries to gather his thoughts, “When I was talking to her about Y/N she asked me if I thought it was the same person who cut the cables on her car. But-  I don’t remember telling her why Y/N’s car was in the shop.”  

“Why didn’t you tell us this?” Hoseok rushes out, nearly tripping over his words.  

“I- I didn’t make the connection, I just thought she was trying to help… oh my god.” Jimin brings his watery gaze around the circle, “Oh fuck. Do you think she knows? Do you think she knows what happened to her?”  

“Jimin…” Taehyung finally breaks his silence, “I think she is what happened to her.”  

And he wants to protest, because Lady is like a mother to him. She’s always there, helping him through his difficulties; she even gave him advice on how to confess to Y/N properly…none of this makes sense.  

“Think about it,” Taehyung continues, “She’s the wealthiest person in town, she knows everyone, she’s always checking up on you…don’t you think it’s a little odd that she’s so involved?”  

“I don’t know, I just thought she had connections, that’s why I went to her in the first place.”  

Jimin feels weak at this development and, Jungkook quickly takes his hand to soothe him.  

“What are we waiting for then? Lets go.” Yoongi stands with a firm look of determination but, Namjoon stops him.  

“Wait, we can’t just go busting into an old woman’s house and accuse her of kidnapping our friend. We have to have enough evidence…”  

“We have enough evidence.” Hoseok inserts, wearing a similar expression to Yoongi, “And old woman or not, if that bitch has our friend-“  

Jin comes through, intervening as things get intense, “Namjoon is right. We can’t do that. Look at us, she’d get one look and, call the police and, then we’d be the ones in handcuffs.”  

“Hyung, we literally just established a solid reason to be suspicious of someone.” Jungkook asserts, confusion evident on his features.  

Jin rolls his eyes, “All we’ve established is that Jimin may or may not have told her Y/N’s cables were cut. Lady owns half of the city, she’s more than capable of finding out what happened to Y/N’s car. This isn’t a lead, it’s odd yeah but, it’s not enough to accuse her with. She probably looked into Y/N’s vehicle information as soon as she went missing...”  

With Jin’s reasoning in place, the group seems to deflate a bit and, Jimin feels slightly relieved that he doesn’t have to suspect yet another person he’s supposed to trust.  

“I don’t know.” Jungkook’s small voice asserts, “I still think it’s weird.”  

With pursed lips, Hoseok nods along with his statement, looking longingly at the now empty back of cigarettes, “I agree.”  

“We don’t have to drop it completely, if anyone has any ideas on how to figure out more information, we should do that. Every lead is worth pursuing.” Namjoon murmurs  

“What do you think we should do?” Jungkook’s Bambi disposition is privy to Namjoon’s opinion and, he often turns to him in times of stress.  

“I have an idea.” Yoongi speaks instead, running his hand over the back of his neck, “I think I need to go back to the club. Jaebeom said the police might have found his sister if they had bothered to look for her, it kind of made me think that he had an idea of where she ended up...”  

“I’ll go with you.”  Jimin replies, throwing his cigarette into the fire  

Yoongi shakes his head, “I should go alone. He was kind of an asshole when I went the first time, I don’t even know if he’ll talk to me again.”  

Jimin chews on the inside of his cheek, wanting to protest but, he trusts Yoongi’s judgement.  

Besides, he can’t handle anyone’s attitude right now.  

“Anyone else think they need to revisit their leads?” Yoongi surveys the circle with cat-like precision, already crafting his future conversation with Jaebeom in his mind.  

Namjoon has glanced towards the direction of the Marquee River several times now and Jin, who is so tuned in to his mannerisms, notices.  

“What is it?”  

Namjoon purses his lips, “I think I need to speak with the groundskeeper again…”  

Hoseok wrinkles his nose in disgust, “The crazy guy with the bad breath?”  

He sighs, finally pulling his attention from the direction of the river, “What if his rambling actually meant something? He kept calling me madam…”  

“Namjoon,” Jin begins, placing a hand on his thigh, “he’s obviously sick, he didn’t even know who you were. How are you supposed to get anything meaningful from this guy?”  

“I don’t know. But, I think I should try…”  

“I’ll go with you hyung.” Jungkook vows, his eyes wide with his faith, “If that guys tries anything on you, I’ll kick his ass.”  

Jungkook’s very serious statement elicits something that the rooftop hasn’t heard in a while: laughter.  

They all laugh for a moment, basking in the tiny bit of innocence still left in their complicated world.  

And as the laughter dies down, Taehyung offers a sentiment that they can all agree on,  

“Let’s go find our friend.”  

After a few more cigarettes and a swig from Hoseok’s bottle of vodka, they all part ways.  

Namjoon and Jungkook head to the Marquee River whilst Yoongi prepares himself for a second visit to Ginseng. Jin and Taehyung head back to the night market to see if any of them have more information and, Hoseok finally convinces Jimin to get some rest.  

He’s been up for three days straight but, he hasn’t slept a full night since Tuesday.  

It’s hard but, after a bit more vodka, he finally passes out on Hoseok’s sofa.  

His torn between wanting to dream of you and, praying that he won’t.  

He wants to see your face but, fuck, it hurts so bad to do so.  

Namjoon and Jungkook- The Marquee River, Sunday 5:49pm  

Thankfully, the sun is just on the brink of setting when Namjoon and Jungkook arrive at the river. On Namjoon’s last visit, the moon was out and, very little people were left which left him more vulnerable. Now, not only does he have daylight on his side but, he also has a very vigilant and very protective dongsaeng to keep him company.  

“I’m just gonna stand back and, let you do your thing hyung but, if things get a little heated…I got your back ok? You just say the word and I’ll lay him out.” Jungkook vows, puffing his chest out as they approach the area Namjoon last saw the groundskeeper.  

He chuckles, patting Jungkook on the shoulder, “Thank you. I appreciate you coming with me. We shouldn’t be too long, especially if he starts rambling again.”  

Jungkook just nods, keeping close to his hyung, resisting the urge to hold his hand.  

He really wishes platonic hand-holding was more acceptable.  

Namjoon tenses up as he spots the groundskeeper near one of the trash cans but, he takes a deep breath and jerks his head in his direction, “There he is…”  

Jungkook nods, his expression tightening a bit as he prepares for the worst.  

“Hello?” Namjoon calls out tentatively  

The groundskeeper is dressed in slightly cleaner coat but, Namjoon still tenses up regardless.  

“Good evening gentleman.” The man turns around, smiling brightly, a rake grasped firmly in his hand, “What can I do for you?”  

Namjoon is confused.  

Is this the same man?  

He looks the same but, cleaner?  

And he isn’t laughing...  

What the hell is going on?  

“Uh good evening um...” Namjoon’s eyes flit to Jungkook, “Do you uh- do you remember me?”  

The man cocks his head, narrowing his eyes for a moment before shaking his head,  

“No, I’m so sorry I don’t. Have we met before?”  

Namjoon nods immediately but, for a moment he wonders if the experience he had the other night was some sort of stress induced hallucination.  

“Yeah, I came here the other night. I asked you if you had seen my friend?”  

For good measure, Namjoon holds up his phone, showing your photo and, the man pushes his glasses up his nose and leans in.  

He still has the scar but, his face isn’t greasy.  

His hair is combed to the side and, he doesn’t smell like slow death.  

Namjoon’s heart picks up at the thought of his own sanity slipping from him until the man finally seems to remember something.  

“Oh my-” He pulls back and shoots a wary look Namjoon’s way, “I do remember you. My goodness, I am so incredibly sorry, I probably scared the daylights out of you.”  

Namjoon’s polite nature causes him to chuckle uneasily but, he keeps his distance, not fully trusting this guy’s demeanor.  

“Yeah you uh, you definitely did. So uh...”  

The man cuts him off, placing a hand on his shoulder, “I suffered a head injury two years ago. The damage to my brain causes brief bouts of psychosis and, unfortunately I didn’t have enough money to refill my prescription.” The man extends his hand towards Namjoon and Jungkook, “My name is Nestor, please forgive my behavior. I can imagine it was quite shocking...”  

Namjoon and Jungkook were raised to be polite men so, despite their hesitation; they shake his hand, bowing their heads as they do.  

“I see. I’m sorry to hear about your accident.”  

Nestor chuckles and, something flashes in his eyes that Namjoon can’t quite decipher, “Oh it was no accident son, I was attacked.”  

Jungkook narrows his eyes and, although he claimed he wouldn’t speak, his curiosity gets the best of him, “By who?”  

Nestor looks to the side for a moment before glancing back at them,  

“I can’t remember.”  

“That’s awfully convenient.” Jungkook can’t help but observe with a pouted mouth and, Namjoon lightly smacks his chest.  

“Sorry but, you don’t remember?”  

Namjoon’s intricate brain is searching for ways to connect the dots but, the man is offering him very little information.  

“No, the doctors said I was attacked and, left for dead. I suffered damage to my hippocampus and, this caused a pretty bad episode of amnesia. I couldn’t remember who I was or how old I was, the only thing I could remember is my cat’s name...” He chuckles and, the clouded film over his eyes adds to the pain that flashes through them, “Which is quite funny you see because, my cat’s name is Cognac so, when I kept asking for Cognac, the nurses would try and explain to me over and over that I couldn’t have alcohol in my state.”  

Jungkook and Namjoon offer their condolences in the form of breathless laughter but, their level of empathy quickly absorb Nestor’s sadness.  

“Anyway...” Nestor gestures to Namjoon’s cellphone as a means to change the subject, “I have seen your friend before but, I don’t remember the last time I saw her. I’m terribly sorry...”  

Jungkook pipes up, “It’s ok sir, we understand, your hippo is damaged, that’s not your fault.”  

Namjoon’s mouth opens in disbelief and, he wants to correct Jungkook’s mistake but, he has more important matters to attend to.  

“I hope this isn’t too much for you but, the last time I was here- “ He hesitates, glancing over at Nestor, “-last time I was here, you kept calling me madam. Is there any significance to that?”  

“Oh...” Nestor chuckles, tucking a bit of his gray hair behind his ear, “I’m sure I was talking about my wife. It’s common for me in those episodes to ask for her. She passed away two years ago.”  

This is something Namjoon has been waiting for.  

Two years ago, this man was attacked.  

Two years ago, his wife passed away.  

Two years ago, Jaebeom’s sister went missing.  

There must be some correlation.  

“It was lovely meeting you gentleman. Unfortunately, I have to get back to my duties,” He gestures to the multi-colored leaves littered on the ground, “, these leaves aren’t going to rake themselves.”  

Namjoon understands of course and, they quickly shake hands again but, just before the two men turn to leave, Jungkook’s randomized curiosity strikes again.  

“What happened to your cat?”  

Nestor seems to search his brain and, his features almost crumple with a bit of desperation,  

“I don’t- I don’t remember.”  

Jungkook just nods, offering him a small smile before him and Namjoon move through the trees towards the street.  

Yoongi- Ginseng Night Club, Sunday 8:37pm  

As Yoongi enters the club for the second time, he carries himself much differently. He ignores the looks from the patrons littered on the couches, he ignores the bass vibrating in his bones, he ignores the jabs from the bartender as he asks to speak with Jaebeom.  

His anxiety is replaced with determination.  

When Jaebeom swings open the door a second time, he’s toned body is only covered by a pair of jeans.  

With another joint between his fingers, Jaebeom smirks down at Yoongi, “Are you here for business or pleasure?”  

Yoongi shamelessly allows his eyes to move over Jaebeom’s figure, admiring it but, also noting that his skin is littered with more than just tattoos.  

Nail marks run down the length of his abdomen, purple bruises congregate on the left side of his neck and, his lips are swollen with evidence of kissing.  

“Looks like you’ve had enough pleasure for the evening.” Yoongi notes in Korean, forcing his gaze away from Jaebeom’s body, “I need to ask you a few more questions.”  

Jaebeom’s smirk never falters as he pulls the joint to his lips. With a jerk of his head, he ushers Yoongi inside, shutting the door behind him, “Make it quick, I have company coming…”  

Yoongi wants to make a comment but, he knows it’s not important enough so, he starts with his first question, “I know this might be hard to talk about but when I was here last night, you said something about your sister going missing.”  

A noticeable change runs through Jaebeom’s body as he takes his seat, “Yeah, what about it?”  

“I thought it was odd that they-  my friend and your sister,” He elaborates, “went missing on the same street and the way you spoke about it, it was like you knew something about where she went…”  

Jaebeom tenses up with the subject change but, he sees something in Yoongi that he likes, there is an honesty to him that Jaebeom fucks with, “I have a feeling, yes, but I could never prove it.”  

Yoongi offers silence as a way to encourage him to continue and, Jaebeom obliges despite his hesitation.  

“Her and her boyfriend used to come in to the club every Thursday night for Happy Hour. They had been dating for a while and, things seemed to be going all right. But one night, she came in alone and I asked her where he was and, she told me they were taking a break.” Jaebeom’s expression shifts again and Yoongi, being the empath that he is, senses the onslaught of negative emotion. “She wouldn’t tell me what happened. She just kept begging me to stay out of it and, she made me promise her I wouldn’t confront him. He came in to the club later that night and, some of my guys told me they got into a huge fight-“  

Yoongi interjects, “Did you see anything?”  

He shakes his head and, before he elaborates, he takes another hit of his blunt, “No, I was up here doing a deal but, the next thing I know, my friends are coming up here and, telling me that my sister ran out of the club, crying and shit. I tried to call her, I even went out on the street and, asked everyone if they saw her but…” His voice tightens before he blows smoke from his lips, “…nothing. I blew up her phone for the rest of the night but, she never responded. I went to the police the next day and, surprise surprise, they were fucking useless. They kept saying that ‘girls like her runaway all the time’ and ‘she’ll be back before you know it.’ I was so angry. I couldn’t believe they didn’t care. I did the same thing you and your boys are doing, I started my own investigation and, I didn’t get very far until, I found her cell phone in the club’s dumpster.”  

Yoongi surprise is evident on his face and, it prompts Jaebeom to comment on it,  

“Yeah I know right? You’d think that would have helped but, it only made everything more complicated. I looked through her messages to try to figure out what happened and-“ He blows a heavy breath between is lips, shaking his head, “Her boyfriend was cheating on her but, it was with some old chick, like his boss or some shit…I don’t know.”  

“His boss?”  

He nods, “Yeah, he worked the Upside as a pool boy.”  

Yoongi’s heart drops then, down to the pit of his stomach and, he literally feels the sweat collecting in the wells of his palms.  

“A pool boy?” He has to clarify, just so he’s sure he heard him right  

Jaebeom nods and licks his lips, “Yeah, my sister found out he was fucking her; at least that’s what I got from her texts.”  

“My friend works as a pool boy too. It’s his girlfriend that missing.”  

Jaebeom’s brows rise before shaking his head, “Shit…” He takes another hit, “That’s a hell of a coincidence.”  

“I don’t think it’s a coincidence.”  

Yoongi and Jaebeom regard each other for a moment before Jaebeom’s mouth turns up in a smirk, “I guess you have an old lady to visit then. If you see my sister’s boyfriend, slap him around a little bit for me heh…”  

Jaebeom seems to gulp the pain he feels down his throat before finishing off the blunt and throwing it in the ashtray.  

“Wait, did he disappear too?”  

He nods, “Haven’t seen him since that night. I just assumed he was living the high life, I mean, I don’t blame him…I’d suck on some old lady titties too for that kind of money…” Jaebeom quickly replaces the blunt in his hand with a the bottle of beer he had sitting on his side table. He takes a swig before holding out to Yoongi, “You want some?”  

Yoongi doesn’t understand his attitude towards his sister’s disappearance. If he knew where her boyfriend was, why wouldn’t he go talk to him?  

But he takes the offer, throwing back a bit of stale beer, letting the slight warmth from the alcohol soothe the rawness in his chest.  

“Why didn’t you go up there? If that’s where he is?”  

“I don’t have contacts up there. There was no way they’d let me in, look at me…” He chuckles, gesturing to his rough appearance, “Besides, I don’t know where that bitch lives and, honestly, it’s probably for the best. I don’t know what I’d do to that guy if I found him…”  

A few more words are exchanged before Yoongi decides he needs to leave; he has a lot to report and, he feels as though time is running out.  

As he’s moving to the threshold of the door, Jaebeom get his attention.  

“Hey-“  

As Yoongi turns around, Jaebeom leans forward in his seated position, placing his elbows on his knees, “What’s your name?”  

Yoongi’s lips twitch, “Yoongi.”  

Jaebeom grins, nodding his head in consideration, “Yoongi. Alright then, well if you ever want to take a night off from your detective work and, uh you know,” He nods to the bed, “have some fun, you know where to find me.”  

Desire stirs in Yoongi’s stomach and, he’s flattered honestly, that such a handsome man could take interest in him but, he knows he couldn’t take a night off if he tried.  

He’s got a friend to find.  

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He sends a smile towards Jaebeom, bowing his head slightly, “See you around.”  

“I hope so.”  

The information they have accrued is once again exchanged amongst the group and, there is only one conclusion that everyone continues to arrive at:  

They have to get inside Lady’s house.  

So, putting their heads together they concoct a plan that just might work.  

The plan is simple.  

Jimin, Jungkook and Taehyung will take Lady up on her offer of a home cooked meal.  

Thankfully, Taehyung’s closet is full of clothes that look far more expensive than they actually are; working at a thrift store has its perks.  

Jimin is dressed in a gray and black suit, covered in a gaudy brocade pattern.  

Jungkook choses a floral blazer and black slacks, complete with a simple white button up he borrows from Taehyung’s father.  

Taehyung donns something slightly less subtle; a black and silver blazer with a similar brocade pattern to Jimin’s suit jacket.  

They take time on their hair, doing it up as if it were each of their wedding days.  

When it’s all said and done, the three men walk out of Taehyung’s room looking like they came straight out of Interview with Vampire.  

Yoongi, Hoseok, Namjoon and Jin are dressed in all black.  

They will serve as a distraction during dinner to enable the younger men to explore the property undisturbed by Lady’s security guards.  

It’s not an easy task but, they are more than ready to attempt it.  

An invitation to dinner is of course incomplete without a gift for it’s lovely host.  

Tonight, a bottle of champagne is clutched in Taehyung’s grasp as he strolls up the cobblestone walkway.  

However, this champagne is slightly modified to fit this evening’s itinerary.  

“Doxepin, it's what I take for insomnia. This shit is strong, I only have to take one and, I’m out like a light in 30 minutes...” Yoongi had explained, pushing his prescription bottle towards Taehyung, “Slip that bitch 3 or 4 and, she’ll hit the floor. When she wakes up, just tell her she passed out for a few minutes…”  

And so it was.  

Lady's home is massive.  

It’s the biggest house the men have ever seen.  

Jimin has stood in its immensity before but, Jungkook and Taehyung are almost disgusted by its grandeur.  

The white paint seems to stretch upwards for miles, the greenery of the vines decorating it in such a way that it almost looks serene.  

Nothing could be farther from the truth.  

The lawn is immaculate.  

Carefully trimmed hedges sculpted to perfection line the walkway that leads to the dark oak that encompasses the front door.  

They aren’t here for a lovely dinner inside this massive house.  

The true nature of their visit is simply to gather more information.  

They aren’t sure how but, Lady is connected to your disappearance.  

Tonight, they will gather enough evidence to warrant an investigation.  

Maybe then, the city below them will finally pay attention to their cries for help.  

Lady doesn’t greet them at the door but, another intriguing person does.  

“Noah...” Jimin greets the suited man with a smile that is far too sweet.  

But he delights in the man’s surprise and, Jimin connects another piece of the puzzle.  

Noah is a classmate of theirs.  

He was fortunate enough to land a job in the Upside after graduation.  

He was fortunate in that his family had money and connections that pushed Noah ahead of his fellow alumni.  

Noah knew you well.  

Noah is dressed in a suit.  

Noah works for Lady.  

It seems there is a connection but, instead of pummeling Noah like he wants to, Jimin simply bows his head as he steps through the threshold of Lady’s home.  

“Wh-What are you guys doing here?” Noah stutters, trying desperately to compose himself.  

Taehyung offers the same smile adorning Jimin’s mouth, “We’re here for dinner. What are you doing here?”  

It’s a loaded question and Noah knows it but, he’s helpless to act on this knowledge because, he is required to treat Lady’s guests with respect.  

“I work here.” He mutters, gesturing towards the dining room, “She’s uh...she’s right in there.”  

“Aren’t you going to offer to take our coats?” Jimin feigns innocence, nodding to the coat rack beside the door.  

Noah nods and with shaky hands and, he accepts each of the coats before hanging them up.  

“Enjoy your evening gentleman.”  

The three of them walk away with a sense of satisfaction but, they are also sick with the knowledge of where one of their former friends ended up.  

Money can create the most dastardly of monsters.  

“Oh my goodness you’re here! Come in, come in.”  

Lady appears at the archway, dressed in a red satin gown, her grey hair piled elegantly atop her head.  

Time has been kind to her, Jungkook thinks, she doesn’t look 70.  

But then again, age seems to be less of an issue when you have millions of dollars at your disposal.  

“Lady these are my friends, Jungkook...” He gestures to the man on his right, who bows respectfully offering a boyish smile.  

“Thank you so much for having me Lady Noona, you have an incredible home.”  

Lady is already flustered; she can’t believe Jimin has friends as handsome as he is.  

“And Taehyung...” Jimin continues, smirking at Jungkook’s acting skills.  

Taehyung, takes her hand, keeping eye contact with her and lowering his lips to her knuckles, “Enchanté, votre maison est belle oui mais pas aussi belle que vous.” (Enchanted. Your house is beautiful yes but, not nearly as beautiful as you.)  

Lady’s face rushes red and, she giggles like a demented schoolgirl, fanning herself as Taehyung releases her hand.  

“Oh mon dieu tu l'es aussi. N'hésitez pas à continuer...” (Oh my goodness, you are too much. Please don’t hesitate to continue.)  

“My lord Jimin, you didn’t tell me your friends were so handsome and, that one of them speaks French- “ She eyes Taehyung teasingly and he responds by winking.  

“He was adopted when he was younger by a French family, he actually doesn’t speak English very well.” Jimin lies, strolling into the dining room and, beginning his search for something incriminating.  

She nods, her eyes alight with intrigue, “I see well,” She leans into Taehyung’s frame, lowering her voice slightly, “Ne t'inquiète pas je n'aurai aucun mal à communiquer avec toi.” (Not to worry, I’ll have no trouble communicating with you)  

Taehyung chuckles at that, bringing his lips to her ear, “Bien sûr, vous en avez déjà dit beaucoup.” (Of course, you have already said so much)  

Lady is floored and, enlightened with desire.  

So much so, that she arranges for Taehyung to sit right beside her.  

The dining table, Jimin remembers, is smaller to create a more intimate setting.  

Jimin takes a seat across from Lady who sits at the head of the table whilst Jungkook and Taehyung settle into the two middle chairs between them.  

The first course is a salad topped with fancy ingredients the men barely recognize but, they dive into it anyway as Lady begins the conversation.  

“Any word about Y/N?” She ventures solemnly, giving her best look of concern.  

Jimin smiles, saccharine as ever, “Nothing so far but, I’m sure your men will give me an update soon.”  

Lady nods mid-chew, pouting her lips slightly, “Of course sweetheart, they send me updates whenever they have something.”  

Taehyung interjects, “Ne parlez pas encore d'elle, ça ruine mon humeur. Je t'ai apporté quelque chose. L'homme du magasin a dit que c'était sucré, peut-être que nous pourrions l'avoir avec un dessert?” (Don’t talk about her yet, it ruins my mood. I brought you something. The man at the store said it was sweet, maybe we can have it with dessert?)  

This surprises Lady of course but, as Taehyung hands her the bottle of champagne adorned appropriately with a twist off cap; She smirks salaciously and nods.  

“Tout ce que vous voulez...” (Whatever you want...)  

Taehyung arches a brow, leaning in towards her once more, “Tout ce que je veux?” (Whatever I want?)  

This is part of the plan of course, to disarm her and, Taehyung is doing an incredible job.  

“Oui.”  (Yes.) She practically coos in response, shameless to the presence of the other men.

He chuckles darkly and, beneath the table he places a hand on her thigh, “Et si je te veux pour le dessert?” (What if I want you for dessert?)  

Jimin wants to hurl a little bit because, although he can’t understand what they are saying, he knows something inappropriate is going down.  

“Jimin, your friend is going to make me misbehave.” Lady giggles, licking her lips as she eyes Taehyung hungrily.  

He plays it off though, this is part of the plan.  

“I’m sorry about him. He’s a shameless flirt.” Jimin chuckles lazily, eyeing Jungkook from over his water glass.  

“No apology needed.” She smirks, flushing a further shade of red as Taehyung sends a wink in her direction, “Now, tell me Jungkook, what is that you do?”  

Jungkook smiles brilliantly, looking eagerly at her, “I work as a paralegal for a law firm a few cities over but, on the weekends I work as a personal trainer.”  

The lie is so well executed, Jimin and Taehyung want to cackle but, they hold it together, sticking to their script.  

“Oh that is so impressive. I hear Law careers are increasing by 18% over the next 5 years, it’s an incredible industry to get into.” She compliments, stabbing more of the lettuce onto her fork.  

“I’m glad you think so Noona, I can imagine someone as successful as you has a lot of wisdom for someone like me.” Jungkook’s Bambi eyes are on full display as he stares longingly in Lady’s direction, licking his lips.  

His words have a double meaning and, Lady knows it, she wonders how she got so lucky to have two handsome men flirting with her.  

“I know my way around sure,” She remarks with a smile, “I can introduce you to some of my colleagues, many of them work in your prospective field.”  

“Really?” Jungkook beams, “That would be an honor Noona, thank you so much.”  

Lady nods and places a well-manicured hand over his, “Of course, any friend of Jimin’s is a friend of mine.”  

She turns to Taehyung, who hasn’t taken his eyes off of her, “Et vous, quel est votre métier?” (And you? What is your job?)

Taehyung pouts slightly, eyeing her in a way that suggests embarrassment, “Je suis un artiste. Je vends mes tableaux. C'est un travail très difficile mais, je l'aime tellement, je ne peux pas imaginer faire autre chose.” (I am an artist. I sell my paintings. It’s a very difficult job but, I love it so much, I can’t imagine doing anything else.)

Lady melts at his words, a longing sigh leaving her lips, “Bien sûr. C'est tellement admirable que vous poursuivez ce qui vous passionne.” (Of course. That is so admirable that you pursue what you’re passionate in.)

Taehyung smirks, eyeing her as he takes a sip of his water, “Merci. Je suis curieux maintenant, de quoi êtes-vous passionné?” (Thank you. I’m curious now, what are you passionate about?)

Before she can answer, the second course is served: roasted beef with a béarnaise sauce on a bed of microgreens.

Rich people shit, Jimin thinks but, he smiles graciously none the less.

He isn’t hungry, he hasn’t been hungry for the past week so, he pushes the meat around the plate as he continues to survey her dining area.

There is nothing out of place but, then again, he isn’t sure what he’s looking for.

The only thing he can do is wait for dessert…

Once Lady is out, they will be able to search for what they need.  

“Lady, do you live here all alone?” Jungkook feigns concern, tilting his head.

She smiles sadly and nods, dabbing her lips with a silk napkin, “Yes I do. My husband, Nestor, died two years ago of an aneurysm.  I’ve been alone here ever since, well minus my guards of course. I’m sure you saw them outside but, they don’t live here full time.”

Jungkook has to stifle his shock.

The name Nestor, isn’t a common one.

In fact, he’s only ever heard it once before...

Jungkook kisses his teeth, pouting his lips slightly, “Oh noona, that’s terrible. I’m so sorry.”

She pouts too, mirroring his expression, soaking up all of his sympathy, “That’s alright dear. I manage just fine, I have to admit though, it’s so wonderful having company. It gets lonely up here.”

The youngest smirks, “Oh of course Noona, I can only imagine…” He places a hand on her thigh beneath the table, rubbing gently over her dress, “A woman like you should never be lonely.”

Jimin and Taehyung have to physically repress their reactions to Jungkook’s acting abilities; it’s a side of him they have never seen.

Anger is something Jungkook doesn’t encounter very often.

But as he looks into Lady’s face, he feels rage coursing through him.

Because, he knows she isn’t genuine.  

He knows there is something off about her.  

Jungkook would normally never dream of harming another person but, when his friends are getting hurt, his morals begin to loosen.

“Oh my, you boys make me feel young again.” Lady chuckles before taking a bit of her beef, “You know…I have the resources to assist you, I tell Jimin this all the time but, he’s just so modest.” She winks at him and, Jimin pretends to shy away from her compliment, “I could really help you with your chosen career paths. Taehyungie,” She turns to him, flashing the pearl white of her dentures, “Ma sœur Clemtenine possède une galerie au centre-ville, je suis sûr que je peux lui faire acheter une partie de votre art. Je sais que j'aurais certainement adoré en acheter ...” (My sister Clementine owns a gallery downtown, I’m sure I can get her to purchase some of your art. I know I’d certainly loved to buy some)

Taehyung’s stomach drops at her statement but, he remains composed and arches his brow, “Clementine? C'est un nom tellement intéressant…” (Clementine? That is such an interesting name…)  

Lady giggles once again, “Oui, nos parents étaient des gens excentriques.” (Yes, our parents were eccentric people.)

“Ils étaient probablement beaux aussi…” (They were probably beautiful too…)

Taehyung winks again and, he must admit, he’s getting off on how easy she is to trick.

She fans herself through her uneasy giggle, nudging his knee with her own, “Oh arrête de me flatter, je suis sérieux, je pourrais vraiment t'aider” (Oh stop flattering me, I’m serious, I could really help you.)

Taehyung pretends to be touched as he places a hand to his chest but before he can reply, a loud voice rings in through the intercom above the dining table.

“Mam this is Noah. There is a disturbance down at the main gate, we have to leave to go check it out, are you alright in there?”

Lady rolls her eyes, unbothered, “Of course Noah, I’m with my friends. Go take care of it, update me when you’re done.”

Anxiety swims into the stomachs of the three men; phase one is complete.

The guards are due to be distracted and, all they can hope is that Yoongi, Hoseok, Namjoon and, Jin stay safe in the process.

“Is everything alright?” Jimin tilts his head, glancing towards the speaker.

She smile reassuringly, waving him off, “Of course, this happens all the time. It’s probably just the homeless, poor things, they beg at my gate sometimes. I don’t engage with them though, as much as I want to help, I don’t believe in handouts you know? It teaches them nothing.”  

This both confuses and enrages Jimin all at once.

She has no problem offering her resources to the three of them because, lets face it, it’s obvious she is partial to their good looks.

But he’s disgusted with her way of thinking.

Everyone deserves a fair shot.

He can’t understand how people, especially fortunate people like Lady, could have this outlook.

But then again, without the abuse of the working class, how would people like her make all of their money?  

“I’ll drink to that.” Jimin smiles, raising his glass and, the rest of the table follows suit, sipping from their crystal goblets.

Then, something peculiar happens…

Beneath their feet, against the expensive lacquer on the wood varnish, there is a banging sound.  

Lady tenses up but, deflects immediately, her surprise quickly smoothing out of her features, “Forgive me, I’m having a wine cellar built beneath the dining room, they’ve been measuring all morning so, it looks like they are getting started on the construction.”

Jimin’s expression shifts and, he stares across the table like a snake honing in on his pray, “Oh? That’s so weird, I didn’t notice any construction trucks outside.”

Lady smiles gracefully, “They have been working for quite awhile, part of their team left to gather more supplies. I’m so indecisive, I changed my mind about the interior several times…” She turns to Taehyung, feeling uneasy under Jimin’s gaze, “Que pensez-vous du marbre noir?” (What do you think of black marble?)

Taehyung’s eyes light up, “Ah, marbre noir? Excellent choix, si séduisant.” (Ah, black marble? Excellent choice, so seductive.)

She entangles her fingers with his beneath the table cloth, shooting him a suggestive look that makes Taehyung sick to his stomach, “Oui, vous l'êtes…” (Yes, you are.)

All Taehyung can manage is a smirk and, a thumb over the back of her knuckles.

His patience is running out.

“L'heure du dessert?” (Dessert time?)

He nods to the kitchen and, Lady immediately blooms with excitement.

“Oui, oui…” She smiles, craning her neck towards the kitchen, “We’re ready for dessert now, what’s taking so long?”

Crème Brule is served alongside a scoop of vanilla bean ice cream and, Taehyung whispers something in her ear about her being similar to the French dessert.

With flushed cheeks, Lady giggles (for the millionth time) and, begins eating.

“Chérie, es-tu prêt pour le champagne que j'ai apporté? Il ira bien avec ce dessert…” (Darling, are ready for the champagne I brought? It will go well with this dessert…)

With her approval, Taehyung pours the bubbly liquid into each of the flutes, smirking devilishly at his friends as he does.

Taehyung watches her like a hawk and, picks up her glass, getting dangerously close to her as he lifts it to her lips, “Boisson. Dis-moi ce que tu penses.” (Drink. Tell me what you think.)

Like saucers her eyes widen and, she’s so enthralled with Taehyung, she doesn’t notice another round of banging beneath the floorboards.

But the rest of them do.

Her eyes flutter as she sips some of the bubbly liquid but, Taehyung isn’t satisfied.

“Ah ah…Avale tout pour moi.” ( Ah ah…Swallow it all for me)

She obliges, practically spluttering at his double entendre.

“Bonne fille.” (Good Girl) He chuckles darkly, his heart thumping in his chest, he likes this.  

He has to admit.

There is something so satisfying about fooling an opponent.

He’s turned on by it.

She gulps as she continues to stare at him, completely captivated.

“C’est delicieux.” (It’s delicious) She finally manages, dabbing her lips with the silk once again.

“Tu fais un bon show…” (You put on a good show) He remarks, smirking before pretending to sip some of his own champagne.

There is a bit of silence that moves throughout the table before Jimin takes the reigns once again,

“Lady, I really appreciate you having us tonight. We needed a night off; things have been so difficult lately.”

Lady immediately smiles, forcing her eyes away from Taehyung, “Of course sweetheart. You know I’m always here for you.”

Another sound is forced against the wood below and, for whatever reason, this startles Lady.  

“Goodness, they are loud…” A nervous laugh leaves her lips and she attempts to stand up before faltering a bit, eyeing Taehyung immediately as she seems to stumble.

Taehyung reacts, standing with her and, holding onto her waist, “Qu'est-ce qui ne va pas chérie?” (What’s wrong darling?)

She mumbles something incoherent which prompts a sadistic grin to appear on Taehyung’s mouth, “Vous sentez-vous un peu endormi?” (Do you feel a little sleepy?)

She nods, clinging to him helplessly as he guides her to the settee beneath the window,

“C'est bon chéri, dors pour moi. Je promets que je serai là quand tu te réveilleras.” (It’s ok darling, sleep for me. I promise I’ll be there when you wake up.)

Lady’s eyes are growing heavier when Taehyung lays her down and, as he does, he places a kiss atop her forehead, “Si jamais tu le fais…” (If you ever do…)

Her eyes widen at his threatening tone but, before she can process it fully, she passes out in his arms.  

Taehyung, Jungkook and, Jimin all look at each other for a moment before, they spring into action.

They shove the dining table aside, disregarding the sound of the expensive china as it crashes to the floor.

There is a Persian rug that covers the sound and, that is quickly shoved aside to reveal something that makes their stomach turn.

Because, beneath the dining table, there is a cellar door.

Jimin swallows his fear and with shaky hands, he leans down, “Hello?”

Silence.

He tries again, his chest numb from the force of his beating heart, “Is there- is anyone down there?”

Nothing.

Jimin frantically looks for a way in but, the hatch is sealed with a padlock.

“It’s locked, we need a way to-“ He begins but, a voice interrupts him.

A voice he is longed to hear for what seems like eternity.  

“Jimin?”

The men look at each other with such heightened emotion that it could power the entire city.

Because, that voice belongs to you.

“Y/N? Baby? Oh my god…” He clutches the wood, banging on it without a reason why, “Baby? Is that you?”

Down in the cellar, beneath the big house you were taken to, you begin to cry at the sound of your boyfriends voice.

You must be dreaming you think.

He can’t be real.  

Is it possible?  

Is the nightmare finally over?

“Jimin!” You cry weakly, using all the strength you have.

The woman who forced you down here hasn’t fed you since your arrival.

She’s just left you down there, along with the rest of her secrets.

The room you’re in isn’t very big.

It’s constructed crudely and made of stone.

There are only two things to keep you company:

A pile of bones and, a pile of money.

When the woman laid you beneath her home, she said only one thing to you,  

“You will die down here. You will die beside the life you will never have and, while you do, I’ll make sure he gets everything he could ever want.”

Jimin chokes back a sob as he pounds against door yet again and, he doesn’t notice that Jungkook is already scanning the room for solution.

“I’m right here baby, I’m right here, I’m going to get you out ok? Just hang on…”

You cover your chapped lips with the palm of your hand, sobbing into it.

You couldn’t believe it.

He found you.

He actually found you.

You didn’t know how and, it didn’t matter.

You just want to go home.

“Jungkook and Taehyung are here with me, we’re going to get you out!” He calls and, as if on cue, Jungkook appears beside him with hammer, “Watch out.” He grunts, determination in his eyes, “Y/N! I’m gonna break the door in ok? I need you to move aside so you don’t get hurt!”

You laugh in disbelief at the sound of your friend’s voice, “Use that brute strength of yours Kookie! Show that door who’s boss!”  

He chuckles at that, tears collecting in his eyes, “I got you Noona, just make sure you’re not in the way!”

Taehyung is smiling too, trying not to lose it at the sound of your voice.

He keeps a careful eye on Lady, who is still passed out on the settee.

If he hated her before, he wants to kill her now.

Taehyung knew she was involved yes but, he never suspected she had you locked in her fucking cellar.

Jimin is itching to get you in his arms, he wants to claw through the wood himself but, instead he stands back and, lets Jungkook hack away at the cellar door.  

You can see it.

The expensive wood slowly splintering above, light pouring in through the jagged cracks.

The only light you’ve had down here is a single bulb hanging from the ceiling.

It’s been torture.

But, none of that matters to you right now.

The only thing you can focus on is the sight of your boyfriend’s face as he tears the remaining wood away from the frame.

“Jimin…” You whimper, ignoring the weakness in your body before crawling your way up the stairs, wanting nothing more than to be in his arms.

Jimin breaks down, reaching out for you…

You’re still in the same outfit he last saw you in.

“Baby, come here…come here…” He pulls you into his arms, his body shaking with his cries as he holds you so tight, it’s almost painful, “I got you, I got you. You’re safe now, you’re safe…”

You’re face in his neck, sobbing whilst your fists clutch his blazer.

You don’t fully understand what’s going on, or why they are here dressed like little princes.

But, you’re not in the headspace to ask.

You just want to stay in Jimin’s arms and, never let go.

“We’re so sorry…” Jungkook sniffles, wrapping his arms around you and Jimin.

Taehyung follows suit, letting his tears fall, “We’re going to make sure they pay for what they did to you.”

Time seems to stand still as you relish in the affection of the people closest to you.

“Don’t ever be sorry. Look what you guys did…you found me. You saved me.” You whisper weakly, your face remaining in Jimin’s neck.

“Jimin? Taehyung? What on earth is going on?”

The sound of her voice makes your blood run cold…

Lady is sitting up, disorientated but before she has a chance to process what’s going on, Taehyung grabs the carving knife from the dining room table and holds it up to her neck.

“Funny, we were going to ask you the same question.”

Lady’s mouth parts in shock, her eyes widening in fear, “I- I-“ She glances around the room before she spots you and, her heart stalls, “I can explain…”

Jimin wants to freak out on her, he really does but, he doesn’t want to let go of you.

“Lady…” He spits from the floor, setting his piercing gaze on her, “Why the fuck is my girlfriend in your cellar?”

She hesitates and, Taehyung can tell she’s looking for a way out so, he presses the knife into her skin, “Answer him.” He hisses through his teeth

Jungkook stands as well, prepared to back him up should he need it.

“Jimin please, you must know. I was only looking out for you…women like her, they ruin men like you. I was trying to protect you.”  

“Protect me?!” He barks, shaking his head in disbelief, “By murdering the only woman I’ve ever loved? By putting my friends and I through the worst week of our life?!”

Taehyung holds the knife steady as he jerks his head towards her, “Stand up…”

She obliges, mouth parted in disbelief, her hands up in front of her submissively, “You’re working three jobs to support yourself, I’ve been trying to help you but, I knew you wouldn’t accept it unless you had no other choice. I knew she…” She sends a glare your way, “…would always be in your ear. She was all you ever spoke about, I needed to get her out of the way so, you could start focusing on you.”

“She has a name you crazy bitch…” Jimin lets out a humorless laugh, helping you to your feet, “She has a name and, a life and, people who love her and, you…” He points a finger in her face, “…you tried to take that from her. How many people have ended up in your basement huh?! How many lives have you ruined?!”

Her expression shifts to one of pure malice, a devilish smirk appearing on her lips, “Why don’t you ask your little girlfriend?” She turns her gaze towards you, “Tell him, tell him how many skeletons you found beneath my house.”

This angers you.

Initially, you didn’t understand.

You didn’t understand the significance of running into Noah that night.

You didn’t understand why he offered to call you a Taxi.

You didn’t understand why the driver intentionally missed your turn.

And after you were knocked out, you didn’t understand why you were brought to this place.

The big house.

But now, it makes sense.

This pathetic excuse of a woman, gets off on kidnapping the less fortunate.

She breeds new monsters in the process, taking their loved ones and capitalizing off of their grief.

She takes them in and, turns them to stone.  

“You wanted them to think I was dead…so you could convince them to leave their lives behind.” Your voice isn’t a hundred percent but, your gaze is steady as it pierces into her.

She chuckles despite the knife being pressed to her throat, “Hmm so it does have a brain. I knew I couldn’t convince Jimin to work for me unless I broke his heart first. Men are much easier to manipulate when they feel like they have nothing left.”

Taehyung practically snarls, “Let’s waste this bitch, we can tell the police that-“

Lady’s cackle is abrupt, her eyes crinkling with delight, “The police! Ha! The police work for me, why do you think they never looked for your little friend hm? They knew where she was, I pay them a pretty penny to keep their mouth shut.”

Another almost cartoonish voice interrupts the conversation as it crackles over the intercom, “Mam is everything alright in there? We heard a commotion.”

Shit.

It’s one of the guards.

Jungkook is prepared to fight, he looks around for a weapon and, grabs the hammer from the floor.

“Noah! No everything is not ok! It seems as though my guests have overstayed their welcome…” She seethes before another smile appears on her lips, “Kill them…”

Jimin grabs you immediately, pushing you behind him and, Taehyung’s grip tightens on Lady’s waist, keeping her in place.

“Uhhh yeah I don’t know who the fuck Noah is but, uh-  oh wait! Yah, Hoseok! Isn’t Noah the one you hit with the Range Rover?”  

The voice morphs again and, you actually laugh at the sound of Yoongi’s voice echoing through the speaker.

“Holy shit…” Jungkook chuckles in disbelief

“That scrawny little blonde dude??” Hoseok’s voice literally warms your heart as it reaches your ears, “Yeah he’s out like a light sorry, anyone else you’d like to speak to?”

“Who the fuck are you?” Lady hisses, panic settling into her senses, “I’ll have the police here in minutes, you’ll be thrown in prison for the rest of your lives!”

“Ouch, we were afraid you’d say that. See, but the thing is, we destroyed all of your fancy ass cameras but, we left the audio running so…” Jin’s voice chimes in next, explaining her demise, “the only thing the police will hear is a taped confession, you wrinkly ass bitch. And let me just say my dear, you look like your pussy is covered in dust and, that’s why you’re going down, all because you thought you might get some dick...pity.

Jin’s insult causes laughter to move through the four of you and, you can’t help but, feel moved at how dedicated your friends are.

“You filthy bastards, you better get your grimy hands off of my cars before, I add grand theft auto to your long list of charges.”

They laugh hysterically on the other end of the line before; Namjoon speaks up, “Ok boomer.”

In the next moment, Lady takes advantage of the distraction and, quickly lunges at you, her hands going for your neck but, before she can reach you, she’s knocked out of the way by Jungkook.

It’s an instinctual reaction but, it does the job

Because instead of landing on you, Lady falls down the hole in the floor to the cellar.

The four of you rush over to the entrance to see her body laying still at the bottom of stairs.

There is a bit of silence before you speak up, staying close to Jimin, “What do we do?”

He smirks, wrapping an arm around you, “Leave her. Let her die alone with her all nice shit.”

Yoongi, Hoseok, Namjoon and, Jin rush in finally and as soon as they spot you, they sigh out in relief.

“Oh my god.”

“You’re ok.”

“We knew we’d find you. Fuck, we missed you so much.”

“If you ever get kidnapped again, I will beat your ass.”

You just smile, giggling at their comments, holding them close.

“Thank you for looking for me. I love you guys so much.”

Yoongi nods to the cellar door and, him and Jimin exchange glances, “Here.” Yoongi tosses him a small black hard drive which Jimin catches seamlessly, “Throw that down there too. It’s the audio from tonight…”

The rest of you aren’t sure how they managed to do it.  

But, those questions are reserved for later.

Right now, you just want to get out of there.

Jimin smirks, standing over the edge of the hole in the floor before dropping it in, relishing in the sound it makes as it clatters down the steps.

“Should we call the police?” Hoseok asks, slightly breathless from all the excitement.

“Why would we?” Yoongi grins, shrugging his shoulders, “Girls like her disappear all the time…”

“Good point.” Jin nods returning his grin, and everyone’s eyes are still trained on the hole in the floor.

You aren’t sure if she’s dead but, you’re hoping she isn’t.

She deserves to spend the rest of her life suffering for what she did to you, for what she did to so many others…

“What happened to the guards?” You ask, lacing your fingers with Jimin and, he responds by tightening his grip on your hand.

“We knocked em out. They’re tied up in the garage.” Namjoon remarks coolly

“Let’s get out of here. We need to leave town for few days until the police figure everything out.” Taehyung says, finally dropping the knife to the floor.

“Good thing we have a ride then…” Hoseok holds up the keys to the Range Rover and, the eight of you are giddy with the promise of freedom.

Jungkook stays close to Namjoon and, as rest of you exit the house; he spots movement in the corner of his eyes.

Near the coat rack, sits a long-haired white Persian cat.

Jungkook can’t help himself.

If he isn’t going to kill this terrible woman, he’s at least going to take her cat.

Hit her where it hurts you know?

“Hyung…” He stops Namjoon and, he looks confused for a moment until he spots what Jungkook is pointing out.

Jungkook doesn’t wait to reach out to the furry creature, “ Here kitty kitty.”  

The cat rubs against his hand, tiny purs erupting from it’s mouth and, Jungkook smiles as he takes it into his arms.

Namjoon smirks fondly at the two of them before his eyes light up when he sees the name engraved on the cat’s golden collar.

“Cognac.” He breathes and, he and Jungkook share a moment as they exit the house.

The eight of you pile into the Range Rover, with Jin in the driver’s seat and, immediately, you find yourself beside Jimin.

“I thought I lost you…” He whispers desperately, placing a few kisses to your lips.

“I’m not going anywhere.” You whisper back, smiling into his lips before leaning forward to make an announcement to the rest of the car, “Hey guys uh…I think I have a way we can leave town for a bit.”

“How?” Hoseok furrows his brow, leaning around Jimin to see you.

“With this…” You grin and, from the middle of your bra, you pull out several bundles of money, each of them labeled $20,000.

You left the bones in the cellar for the police to find.

But the money?

The money, you took with you.

The police wouldn’t need it for their investigation right?

The seven of them look at you in shock before Yoongi lets out a sound you’ve never heard him make before; it’s pure unfiltered joy.

“Oh fuck yeah…”

Plage de Maeva, Tahiti- Two Months Later

Justice came in pieces.

It started with Cognac and, the massive fortune Lady left behind; both of which were returned to their rightful owner, the man at the river.

Then came Jaebeom; the eight of you dropped off a few thousand for him at the club, along with your findings.

A different precinct responded to the distress call from Lady’s home.  

She survived the figurative fall yes but, the fall from grace that would soon follow completely destroyed her.

She was brought in on 9 counts of first degree murder, 7 counts of kidnapping, stalking, conspiracy to commit fraud and, a myriad of other charges.  

The suits were brought in as well and, suffered similar fates.

Between them, 293 years of prison was to be served.

The staff at the motel, the patrons of the Chamomile Country Club and, even Clementine herself were all publically humiliated when the news broke of Lady’s true nature.

She had been paying them all for their silence.

No charges were brought against them but, their statuses as pariahs seemed fitting enough.

The news came to all of you quite late because, you were far too busy enjoying your own personal victories…on an island called Tahiti.

520,000 was certainly enough to get you out of town and, by the looks of it, you may never return…

“Every second, every minute, man I swear that she can get it Say if you a bad bitch put your hands up high, hands up high, hands up high Tell 'em dim the lights down right now, put me in the mood I'm talking 'bout dark room, perfume Go, go!”  

Yoongi’s voice echoes loudly with the help of his microphone as he raps the lyrics to a rather befitting song by Kendrick Lamar.

It was karaoke night on the rooftop of your resort and the eight of you, along with your loved ones are enjoying every second of it.

Hoseok rushes on stage with Yoongi, laughing as he does, “I recognize your fragrance (hol' up!) You ain't never gotta say shit (woo!) And I know your taste is A little bit (mmm) high maintenance (ooh) Everybody else basic You live life on an everyday basis with-“ He holds the mic out and, the rest of you scream the lyrics with beaming smiles.

“POETIC JUSTICE, POETIC JUSTICE- IF I TOLD YOU A FLOWER BLOOMED IN A DARK ROOM WOULD YOU TRUST IT?”

Jimin is behind you, with his arms secured around your waist, giggling through the words.

He’s euphoric at the moment, he’s never been so happy in his entire life.  

Namjoon hits the stage next, and the song continues with the help of your friends and the crowd,

“I mean I write poems in these songs dedicated to you When you're in the mood for empathy, there's blood in my pen Better yet where your friends and them? I really wanna know you all I really wanna show you off Fuck that, pour up plenty of champagne Cold nights when you curse this name….”

Jungkook and Taehyung are at the front of the crowd hyping them up whilst Jin sings loudly with his fiancée.  

The next part Jimin croons into your ear, tightening his grip on you as the words have so much meaning:

“And anytime…” He sings, kissing into your neck, “You can get it, you can get it, you can get it, you can get it- And I know just know just know just know just what you want…poetic justice, put it in a song, alright.”  

You turn in his arms then, kissing him deeply, pouring everything you have into it.

“You kept your promise.” You whisper, grinning against his lips.

“My promise?” He giggles, kissing you back, his eyes deep with emotion.

You cup his cheek, biting your lip as you hold back your tears, “The night I disappeared, you promised me, we’d get our break…”

His smile widens and, rather than use his words, he just kisses you again.

Because, he can.

Because, you’re safe.

Because, you’re his.

The rooftop is a place you often end up.  

It’s a little cliché, you think: a bunch of rich kids corralled onto a fancy ass resort building on a tropical island, the waves crashing in the background.  

But you and your friends aren’t ordinary rich kids.  

The worst any of you has ever done is rob an old lady’s house, push her down the stairs, leave her for dead and, then ruin her life but…

To be fair…

That bitch deserved it.

[pathofcomet]

seething, blooming

fandom: ikemen vampire

pairing: theodorus/MC ; modern settings

summary: Theo sighs, turns to look at her. If it was literally anyone else, his current expression would be called pouting, but he never quite loses the frown on his forehead, so it’s not entirely that. But if there is someone who can figure it out, translate his needs through a single gesture, pick up his wants by the tone of his voice – well, it would be her, no? (AO3)

author note: Happiest of birthdays to my beloved and treasured friend @rokutouxei !!!  So grateful I get to call you my friend each and every day - and so grateful to share so much (love, writing, food pics...) with you. Let's meet and hug soon, okay? 

“You’re early,” Theodorus says, huffing when her first instinct is to link their fingers together.

“You’re earlier,” she retorts back, leaning close to press a chaste kiss on his cheek.

Theo sighs, turns to look at her. If it was literally anyone else, his current expression would be called pouting, but he never quite loses the frown on his forehead, so it’s not entirely that. But if there is someone who can figure it out, translate his needs through a single gesture, pick up his wants by the tone of his voice – well, it would be her, no?

And so she leans closer; the perfume she is wearing he can vaguely match it as being his gift for her on Christmas – and he closes his eyes, sighs against her lips as she kisses him properly. She hovers a bit close to him, a bit of her lipstick is smeared around the corner of her mouth, so while she fixes his scarf (her own Christmas gift for him), he raises his hand to press his thumb against the red mark there.

She blushes, and he grins. She tugs at his hand, and together they enter the museum.

It’s just a typical day in his life, walking around wooden floored hallways, staring at paintings-clad walls. But it’s a special date for the two of them; the exhibition curated only by him. Opening night was a couple of days ago, celebratory and lovely; passed by in a flurry of her dress caught at the corner of his eye, and the smell of paint stuck to his brother’s skin. The familiarity of that, in the midst of the newness of success: Theodorus has loved it all.

But the date after is different from opening night; because she’s slow, stopping in front of each painting, her voice even as she tries to guess at the techniques and subjects that convinced him to pick exactly this one piece of art, in this exact place in the exhibit space. He loves her for her care, for her eye – sharper every time.

She always misses a thing or two, though by now Theo suspects she does it on purpose, just so that he can squeeze her hand in his, and add in his explanation. Just so that he leans over her, pointing at a certain brush stroke, his breathing stopped for half a second, as she looks up at him and their eyes catch together.

And Theodorus aches – with the knowledge of being known. And Theodorus loves – because of it, in spite of it, for the relief of it.

She’s been picking some of Vincent’s habits – and it takes Theo a bit to notice, mainly because nothing in his life changes, not immediately. The transformation is smooth: Vincent leaving for his new apprenticeship, her stuff replacing his, a house that was brotherly becoming a lover’s nest, as Arthur likes to call it.

The kitchen still smells like coffee in the morning when he’s out from his shower, and she’s blearily pressing the button of the toaster down, a jar of jam on the counter. She’s wearing his t-shirt, though it looks more like a dress – and his mug is already filled, two spoons of sugar and cinnamon already added to it.

Theo doesn’t really speak, before the first sugar rush hits (he swears it’s not the caffeine), so they sit at the small kitchen table, munching on their breakfast, looking out the window, the sun rising with each passing minute – and what a blessing it is, to have someone who makes silences easy. Then, he takes the plates – drags at the shoulder of her t-shirt, so that it covers enough skin so he doesn’t feel tempted to lose his clothes and burry himself in her welcoming warmth, and she’s the one who kisses his neck as she passes him by for the bedroom. And Theo has good mornings; different, but still making him all a bit grateful to be alive and standing here.

And of course – there’s Vincent’s art all around them, over their walls. But slowly, the shelves that only had textbooks and mainly poetry – and thick, glossy, expensive art volumes, slowly start holding long novels and even more poetry. He used to read out loud to Vincent, as he painted – now, more than ever, is her reciting something, a beloved line, something that translates into her mood, or their discussion, and without missing a beat, Theodorus fills up the missing words, and together they make a poem whole. So much – no, not knowledge, but rather, feeling shared between the two of them. He learns to translate the passage of time in volumes, rather than art pieces.

Then he waits in front of her university building, checking his emails on the phone, shivering a bit in a thin coat. There’s dark already outside, and she’s running a bit late – to the point that when she eventually stops in front of him, beaming at him, her face is flushed and her breathing ragged, with the hurry. She hugs him for a greeting, takes his hand in hers, moves their linked fingers to rest inside her pocket, warming up his frozen digits.

Theo sighs at the sensation.

“Let’s go home, yes?” she asks, a smile still on her lips, and he almost falters in his steps.

It’s not like he ever stopped thinking of that tiny apartment as home, but it’s been different before, an extension of his past, just the feel of his childhood spread to his present: the comfort of a sibling, the consistency of a craft. But now, when the word home comes out of her mouth, something shifts, the present widened into a future that has the shape of her: the certainty of love, the effort in building something together.

Theodorus hums in agreement, picks at the strap of her backpack with his other hand, straightening it.

His fingers knot in the naked skin of her back, oily with the cream he ran to the pharmacy to get, and she moans. He’s straddling her body, each knee on one side of her waist, as she’s resting her head on a pillow, most words muffled in the material. She’s been hunched over her laptop, writing essays and commissions for days now, her shoulders sagging with each hour, position visibly worsening.

When not even Theo’s gentle chiding to take a break worked anymore, he decided to take a more hands-on approach to this issue. It involved a very sharp and high-pitched yelp in his ear, as he looped his arms around her body – one under her arm, the other under her legs, and carried her all the way to their shared bedroom. The tug at her blouse might have initially suggested something else, but the gentle hands, softly moving her body in the position he needed her, hinted at care, and not hunger.

He unclasps her bra, so he can more easily press his palm against the tensioned knots in her muscles. She sighs, murmuring his name – and Theo swears something in Dutch which makes her chuckle even as two of the words go over her head.

She wiggles her butt, trying to squirm under him, chasing the relief in his touch. Her body is turning to mush under his tender ministrations, all while his turns tenser and tenser, having her under him.

She moves again – a hand comes up to push his away, as she rolls around to face him. Theo pulls a face.

“You’re staining the sheets,” he says, observation but not complaint, eyes very ungentlemanly dropping to where one of her breasts are spilling out of her open bra.

She licks her lips.

“Theodorus,” she starts – and waits for him to look her in the eye, properly, before her hand rises to tease at his belt. “Fuck me.”

He chuckles, swatting her fingers away even as he grows inside his pants.

“You’re on a deadline,” he says, leaning over her just to kiss away the pout appearing at his comment.

“But,” she whines, hands resting at his waist so he stays put right there. “I work better if relaxed?”

It sounds like a questions; he frowns at her, his eyes, though, a shade darker.

“And what was my work until now for?” he teases, though his hands are already moving to throw away her bra, cup her breasts in his hold.

She gasps, raising her hips to meet his, making him swear.

“I can do the work then,” she suggests instead, and she’s pushing at his shoulders.

Theo falls on his back on the bed most willingly. She takes a minute to throw away her pants – panties still on, and he chuckles, darkly, at her eagerness, when her next move is to drag his off him.

His dick springs free, hard already – she cocks an eyebrow at him.

“With the way you were moaning…” he throws as an explanation, explanation caught in his throat as she comes to straddle his hips, to kiss him properly.

Her lips against his, all soft and tender, tongue coating his mouth open, a gasp swallowed in love. He’s feeling light-headed and she’s just been… disarmingly herself, disarmingly wanting. His hands come to rest on her knees, as she shuffles her body over his painfully needy length.

She looks up at him, grins really, as a finger comes to drag at the material of her panties – enough to reveal her glistening pussy.

“Hondje,” Theo threatens, when she rocks her hips above him only a couple of times, before slowly taking him in.

“It’s,” she starts and is interrupted by a soft sigh, as she slides down the rest of the way, her knees trembling, his thumb soothingly pressing against the skin there. “fine.”

He rises just enough to kiss her nose, and she blinks up at him.

“Take all the time you need,” he says, and his mouth descends, hungrily, over one of her nipples, his fingers moving to the other.

Her hands hook around his back, nails digging in the material of his shirt. She regrets not taking it off, now; she wishes she could leave some marks. But like this, lavished in touches and kisses and bites and attention, she relaxes – and when he tugs particularly painfully at her nub, her hips surge forward.

Theo grins, wolfishly. She steadies, holding onto his shoulders as, unprompted and unhelped, she starts moving. He loves to see her like this: needy and working for it, hair sticking to the sweat at her forehead, tits bouncing in front of his face, gasps and moans and curses coursing between her lips. He likes to be here for her pleasure and pleasure only.

His hand snakes between their bodies, finger pressing against her clit. Her hips buckle; she sputters broken words, his name somewhere between them – as she comes above him. He swears, bites at her shoulder, but softly enough that it is just a weak attempt at muffling his strangled moan.

She kisses at his eyebrow, rocks her hips so she gets a reaction out of him, smiling all prettily and spent. Fuck, why did he think this was a bad idea in the first place?

She yelps when he switches positions again, her hair sprawled in her pillows, him above her this time around. He doesn’t give her any time to make sense of the new situation, pounding in her with the hunger of the man who has been tantalizingly teased for the past hour. Both their bodies smell like the rubbing cream he’s used, her skin soft all over, her pussy as welcoming as he has ever known it.

He swears every time he has never felt this good, and each time he somehow gets to enjoy it more. She’s sensitive and greedy, so when he finally comes, grunt at her ear, her cunt tightening around him, Theo wants to do it all over again.

His body drapes over her; just seemingly, as he’s holding most of his weight on his elbows, but he’s close enough that she can nibble at his earlobe, and pat his butt, which gets a tired chuckle out of him, as they both regain their breath.

Her body jolts, and she’s shoving him away.

“Fuck, my deadline!”

She throws her underwear in a corner of the room, after she used it to clean the mess between her legs, and bypasses a new one all together as she drags his pair of sweats over her hips, his t-shirt over her head. He throws an arm over his forehead, torn between laughing at her and not wanting her to turn around and throw her bra at him.

And then, she’s out the door, Theo’s shout after her.

“I’ll wash the sheets!”

She sighs; it has been torture enough to wait until her exact birthday to open the present he has sent (per his instructions), on top of having him away at all on the date. But she understands it; things happen and Vincent’s success is, objectively speaking, more important for the greater good and humanity.

As someone who has cried during his last exhibition, she gets it.

Doesn’t make missing Theodorus any easier.

So when the clock passes the 11:59 mark, she drapes a blanket over her shoulder and she makes her way to the corner of the living room where she hid the weirdly wrapped box (Theo’s good with ribbons only in the bedroom). Out of sight, out of mind, she thought – but as all things Theo, the rules don’t necessarily apply.

“Okay, asshole, you better make me cry,” she says in the empty apartment, ripping apart the wrapping paper.

One tiny box awaits her; her hands shake a bit as she holds it, opens it. Resting on a beautifully dark purple satin material, a golden necklace depicting the sun, matches with a pair of star-shaped earrings: a beautiful set altogether. Her fingers gently trace the details. At the bottom of the first box, an envelope.

My stars,

Though maybe that’s not an accurate way to call you. You’ve entered my life so determinedly, so fully – like light hits a new born, like love overwhelms the youth, and while there are thousands – unlimited wonders about you, and while it will take me thousands of light years to even get a hint at all of them, maybe it’s not quite enough anymore.

I’ve been thinking lately, as your birthday approached, as my gratitude for your existence grows with each passing day, at my place in your world, your place in my world. It feels a bit weird to talk about us separately, no? So maybe I was thinking, instead, at the new world we are creating.

You’ve made things more beautiful – and beautiful here means easier, more worthy of love, more bearable. You’ve made it easier to be me, because you’ve encouraged who I was. There are hundreds of poems I now know because it pleases you, and will you call me a cheesy bastard if I tell you that’s the biggest success of my life?

But maybe if that made you smile, that would be the number one instead.

I won’t reiterate what we already but well know: life is hard, but you move through it gracefully. May you continue to do so – and may you know there’s a resting place always available to you and its name is Theodorus’ heart. You might be familiar with that place; I’ve kept inviting you over.

You already know I’m not good at words – but I still try, because you are. Because words mean something more than what they’re saying, because in my handwriting there’s more than just looped letters, because a piece of paper can be the comforting anchor of someone in need. I think you taught me that as well.

So maybe what I am trying to say without having to necessarily say it: I love you. I love you like the moon loves the stars. And I love you like the moon loves the sun. You’ve lightened up my life, you shined your bright gentleness even in my darkest corners – and there’s nothing but love that I can properly give in return, and while I know it’s not enough, I hope you’ll let me try to pay you back for my entire life.

Is that too much? Is that too soon? But I like your name right next to mine, and I like that together we can fill up an entire sky.

Are the metaphors eluding me? Failing me? Is that enough?

You are the sun.

And I your worshipper.

Theodorus Van Gogh

  She presses a phone number that she knows by heart – and waits, heart beating in her throat, for the ringing to stop –

“Happy birthday, my heart.”

“You made me cry, you cheesy bastard.”

And Theodorus chuckles, the hint of relief and tears in his tone as well.

You can reach me over on twitter ; if you enjoyed what you’ve read, consider leaving me a tip over at ko-fi! <3

[lettrespromises]

> LettresPromises informs you : You have one notification.

> Letter object : The cry of the heart.

Zoro Roronoa sent you a letter, would you like to read it?

@me11orine​ sent a letter :  ❝hiii! i hope your currently feeling well and staying safe! may i pls request an angst but a happy ending with zoro? its not really specific so you could do whatever you’d like! pls take your time!❞

author’s letter :  ❝dear reader, i’m so, so, so, so, sorry for being so late regarding this request! i hope you’ll be able to forgive me. i really had a lot of fun writing this request and showing my undying love for zoro love my birthday twin, i missed writing for one piece so thank you for sending me this and thank you for trusting me with your request!! love you and take care.

sealed with a kiss,  nikki.❞

Warnings : Cursing, blood, injury. Genre : Kinda angsty, kinda fluff. Word count : 1.6K.

The weather was hot in Dressrosa, perhaps too ideal for a kingdom ruled by the living and breathing personification of evil, or maybe was it just another trick played upon the Straw Hat crew : how could this kingdom possess the weather of heaven and, paradoxically enough, be ruled by the new face of evil?

Although the sunny weather complimented the thoughts of relaxation, enjoying the sinful pleasures of life and whatnot, the reality drew a sharp contrast with these ideals— it was a hunt led on the scale of an island, a literal hunt, where the horn would only be blown once all of the targets will be taken down. It was a race against time, a permanent sword of Damocles was dangerously hanging over each member of the Straw Hat crew as a reminder that every action taken had a consequence— some reduced drastically the distance between the tip of the sword and their head, and others helped to deliver the last blow to their opponent.

Sword of Damocles or not, Zoro Roronoa could handle any situation with the help of his very own swords, that is… Almost all of them. His expertise regarding the art of fighting his opponents with both his most cherished and lethal weapons seemed like poetry in motion to the common eye— he was the living testimony of empiricism, each of his experience added yet another step-stone on the ramp to become the best swordsman alive.

Nonetheless, the legendary prowesses of his swords could not fix the deep wounds caused by the poisonous mix of emotional numbness and physical pain. His sole valid eye was entirely focused on your small form (or at least, from his point of view, it did seem smaller given the fact you were bending under the echoes of pain) caught in a whirlwind of distress. He should have trusted his guts, after all, trusting his instinct came as a second nature to him, and not let you face one of Doflamingo’s pawns on your own. Yes, the victory was yours, but was squirming in pain really worth having the bragging rights of a success?

Isolated in an alley, away from the preying eye of the Donquixote family, but certainly not isolated from the sounds of agony echoing from certain areas of the kingdom, you were left bruised and out of breath on the ground. Your palm was delicately covering the wound in your arm, while being careful enough to not apply to much unwanted pressure on it, your mouth was set agape, a position needed to allow several unsteady breaths to fall free from your lips in cascade. And although Dressrosa was moving under the rhythm of the cries of pain, the alley you and Zoro was stuck in was eerily silent, a form of silence imposed against your will, but perhaps was it because none of you knew what to say.

The wound was deep and blood was flowing a bit too freely out of the cut— you considered is a medal, Zoro saw it as a mark of inattention. His facial expression reflected almost too perfectly the vivid emotions rushing through his mind : a dash of sadness, a pang of guilt and a generous dose of anger. His brows were furrowed, teeth clenched, his eye never left your figure, he was hoping his stare alone could make you feel his rush of emotions.

« What the hell were you thinking? What’s wrong with you? You could have died if I hadn’t shown up at the right time! » Zoro barked, anger lacing his every word, you winced at the harsh tone of his voice.

« What the fuck was I supposed to do? Let you do all the dirty work and stand back in silence? Hell no! » You responded, with the same amount of volume and acerbity coating your voice.

« You knew damn well you couldn’t have beaten him on your own, why the hell do you have to be so reckless? » It was a rhetorical question coming from him, there was no answer, just the will to sting you where it hurt the most.

« Because I’m sick of you seeing me as some kind of person in distress, because I’m not! I had him right where I wanted and you let your savior complex get the best of you. I could have handled it on my own, I didn’t need you! » Now, now, talk about letting your emotions dictate your speech.

His eye widened in surprise, mostly because he was not expecting that such rage could have ever possibly takeover your wording, but he regained his composure almost immediately. His jaw felt tight as your haunting words kept repeating themselves over and over again in his head like a broken record.

« You don’t need me, hah? Fine by me, next time I’ll let you suffer on your own, and remember that you asked for it. »

Maybe you were right, maybe you didn’t need him. For the first time, he laid his eye elsewhere, he couldn’t muster the strength to look at you, nor stay close to you. And with that, Zoro had already made the decision to leave you in this alley.

Willing to mimic his actions and indirectly compete in this silent war of prides, you tried to get on your feet to go back to the Sunny. Your plan, however, did not match with the reality— as soon as you stood up, a cry of pain left your lips without warning, your knees gave up under the pressure and eventually you found your original position : sat on the floor. Zoro stopped abruptly in his tracks once this sound of torment connected to his eardrums. His pride yelled at him to continue on his way out, to leave you alone because you ‘didn’t need him’, but he was only a mere man to try resisting his pride.

« Don’t move, you can’t help being so damn reckless all the time, can you? » the anger lacing his words had faded away and instead, a hint of comfort replaced the former vivid emotion.

Zoro was back kneeling in front of you, his stare was once more focusing on you and you only, as it always has been. You, on the other one hand, couldn’t seem to gather enough strength to look elsewhere but on your wound, and oddly enough, the more you looked at it, the more it hurt. Why did it hurt? You ignored the real answer to the question, nonetheless, pearls of tears running down your cheeks, a sweet mixture of salt and guilty.

« Oi, oi, oi, what are you crying for? » You knew he didn’t mean to sound this harsh, but ‘Zoro’ and ‘delicate’ were oxymorons.

Your thumb was still brushing invisible forms near your wound, in a desperate attempt to ease the pain and distract yourself from Zoro’s acerbic words which had finally sunk in, it was similar to being caught in a whirlwind of pain without any escape. You couldn’t help these tears from falling free on your face, it was the aftermath of said whirlwind, and the consequences of regretting your poor choice of wording.

Zoro’s calloused fingers came right beneath your chin, forcing you to look elsewhere but on one of the many causes of your suffering, and instead, engage a new discussion. His attempt to earning an answer felt short against the deafening silence on your end, a silence, however, often broke by the sounds of your whimpers.

« I-… I shouldn’t have said that earlier. What I said about not needing you, I didn’t mean any of it. » You released a sigh you ignored you were holding, a manifestation that you felt a burden come off of your shoulders.

« Save your saliva and your breath, I got it. And even if you didn’t want my help, you’re not in a position to refuse my help right now.» A hint of a smirk was plastered upon his face as a sign of a silent victory against you.

Zoro was right, you had no choice but to give in to his help. His arms snaked around your knees and shoulders (while making sure not to enter in contact with your injured arm and let the wound free from any touch) and cradled your head against his chest in a modified version of a bridal carry. Perhaps, just perhaps, you should have accepted his offer to help you earlier on.

« Zoro? » You asked, your breath coming to crash against the skin of his torso.

« Mhm? »

« You’ve always been the person I needed, I was just afraid that you would get injured too. » A confession emanating from your heart, after all, you deemed this moment as the most adequate given the circumstances.

Said confession only comforted Zoro in the nature of the feelings he was holding in your regard, and also demonstrated that the nature of your anger was actually coming from a place of care and attention for him.

« I told you not to mention it. Besides, I’m never letting someone lay a finger on you ever again. » A victorious grin still plastered upon his facial features, this time, it wasn���t because he had won the argument against you, it was because he realized everything he had always wanted, everything he had always needed, was here in his arms.

[peachcitt]

fanfic year in review - 2020

hey laddies i was tagged by both @miabrown007 and @strangerahne to do this, so without further ado here we go!

1) List of fics completed this year in the order they were finished: 

Bone Tea (march) // All These Selfish Feelings (march) // Doomed from the Start (may) // Wouldn’t it be Nice (may) // my favorite set of stairs is the one up to your room (may) // screw the classics, and screw you for believing in them (june) // Friendship Bracelets (june) // Those Benevolent Stars (june) // the dark and the stained glass watchers (july) // Bloodsucker (july) // Messy Advances (july) // Happy Endings, the Sun, and Other Steps to Madness (july) // Guessing Game (august) // Passion Fruit Sunset [zine piece, currently unavailable] (september) // Home Coming [zine piece, currently unavailable] (november) // here (november) // bread and oranges (november) // clarity (november) // burgundy, near black (december) // About Emma Martin (december) // cherries (december) // falling, flying (december) // aloe-infused fuzzy socks (december)

23 fics??? okay well looking at it like this just makes me feel ridiculous

2) Number of words written:

219,184 words (which includes my unfinished fics on ao3 and the wips i haven’t posted)

again looking at it like this just makes me feel ridiculous

3) Your most popular fic:

friendship bracelets - the first in the series of my homoerotic college au zukka fics. honestly? i can’t even say im surprised

4) Your personal fav:

MAN this is hard. okay it’s gotta be a four-way tie between bone tea, those benevolent stars, home coming, and screw the classics and screw you for believing in them but really i could be lying because i wrote so much this year (i guess now last year?) that i was really really proud of 

5) Your fav scene:

okay i have a lot of favorites but for right now i’ll say: the scene in chapter 3 of those benevolent stars when adrien and marinette are sitting on the banks of the seine and they talk about their favorite colors and adrien’s soulmate - it’s such a quiet and gentle moment, and because you know that their favorite colors are based off each other’s eyes but only marinette knows that and because you know adrien is talking about his soulmate to his soulmate and she knows it but he doesn’t. it’s full of such beautiful, tragic dramatic irony that i just love so so much

6) A fic or scene that challenged you:

hm okay the last few chapters of bone tea were definitely challenging not only because of, like, the big fight scenes (which, im not really comfortable writing fight scenes) but also because i had take all of the mess of emotions in bt and wrap it all up into a conclusion that needed to be satisfying. the same could be said about happy endings, the sun, and other steps to madness (minus the fight scene part)

writing impure - my changeling jim au fic - has also been a fun challenge because i basically watch trollhunters episodes as i write, examining each line of dialogue and each character interaction and seeing how that scene or relationship would be changed by the fact that jim is a changeling. it was also a little challenging to keep everything fresh and new - especially at the times when the dialogue from the show stayed the same in the fic, but so far, im really really happy with the way the fic is going

7) A line of writing you’re proud of:

off the top of my head are these two lines, both from screw the classics:

It was the ‘Daisy, Daisy, Daisy’s, over and over. Like her name conveyed some sort of deeper meaning that she expected Daisy to be able to understand. Like if she repeated it enough, it would become a sort of prayer that God would listen to, that He would enact to make Daisy put her fists away for once in her pitiful life. It was just “Daisy, Daisy, Daisy” over and over until her name stopped sounding like a name, like a word, and it was just a sound to fill the silence so that neither of them would have to talk about the way Basira’s touch lingered each time she wiped blood away or the way Daisy would always sit so that her knees touched Basira’s even though they were on the floor and there was more than enough room for them to breathe different air.

and

But sometimes Jon was easier than Basira. He didn’t have any of Basira’s softness - he was all edges and sharp lines. His elbows were basically knives, and his hips were edged with broken glass.

the first paragraph i really love because there’s almost a rhythm to it - like poetry - and i love the sound of it and all that it means in the context of the fic. 

the second little bit i just love because every so often i think about it and i love the imagery and metaphor and the way it fits jon - in canon and in this fic. in this fic, they’re all in high school so jon is gangly and skinny and bony and in general, he’s just abrasive and a little rude. this description of him i just love (and the way i described him from martin’s pov in doomed from the start; “Jonathan Sims looked, even from a distance, as if he was perpetually smelling something awful. His features, just left of handsome, were marred by furrowed eyebrows and a distasteful frown.”)

8) A comment that touched you:

LITERALLY SO MANY????? the comments on the final chapter of bone tea, telling me that the story was something that they loved and found comfort in, the long comments on any of my fics detailing their exact favorite parts, the comments that were just short jokes that made me laugh out loud - literally i can’t pinpoint one. im just so thankful to have written things that people respond to with such kindness and love

9) Something that inspired your writing:

music!!!!!! i found myself making playlists for a few of my fics this year or listening to specific old playlists of mine for the right mood for a fic, and it’s really inspired me to write

also, as always, my own personal experiences. i thought and felt a lot this year, and i think in every single one of the fics i posted this year, you can probably find a central thought or feeling driving it that no doubt comes from my personal life

10) Your proudest accomplishment (that one scene; finally finishing that one fic; posting your first fic; etc):

finishing bone tea and tying the title to the fic!!!!!!!! finishing happy endings and also tying that title to the fic!!!!!! getting accepted into two different zines and working with two different amazing artists and completing those fics!!!!!!!! literally writing anything at all!!!!!!!!!

11) Do you have any writing goals for the next year?

i think mainly i just want to write, you know? i want to stop putting so much pressure on myself, because this past year i put so much pressure on myself that i was constantly feeling like i was underperforming (which was, like, super untrue, but you know how it goes) so when i wasn’t writing i felt like i was wasting time. i mean, don’t get me wrong, i had so much fun writing and creating all of these things that im so so proud of, it’s just the space in between writing sessions that i want to let myself breathe in. i don’t want to dread thinking about writing for fun anymore because that’s not fun

besides that, i think my other goals are to just continue forward with my unfinished projects - impure, the new wave, the bone tea extras - and to officially start the other two long fic ideas i have for mlb that ive been really excited about for a long while. this past year i wrote a lot of one shots (like. so many. oh my god) so maybe this year i might focus on long projects. who knows though definitely not me it’ll be a surprise for all of us

=

anyway that’s all!! thanks mia and strangerahne for tagging me!! ive been needing a lot of reminders lately that i have, in fact, written this year, and having to, like, do math and scroll through my ao3 page and all my google docs has been really enlightening so thanks so much for this

i tag: @lnc2, @chatnoirinette, @deinde-prandium, and @rosekasa! y’all don’t have to do this, but i’d love to see how y’all felt about your works this year and also to see y’all love yourselves very much because you deserve it. also literally anyone can do this you can just say i tagged you i don’t mind it’ll be our secret - i highly encourage it because it’s very sweet and very fun to look back on all you’ve accomplished this year

<3<3<3<3

[frywen-bumbles]

The Way to a Man’s Heart Goes Through His... Cat? Ch5

AO3

Days later Jaskier is still thoroughly embarrassed by accidentally calling Geralt while drunk. He is sure he had picked Essi's number but what is done is done. They haven't talked much after that. The next day Geralt inquired after Roach but since then it's been radio silence and it does not bother Jaskier at all. Geralt must just be busy, that's all. No other reason what so ever.

   <my mom comes to visit today!!!>    <i missed her>    <when i grow up i want to be just like her!>    <i wish you could meet her she's so nice>    <she yelled at daddy for not answering her>    <oh no that was supposed to be a secret>

<i swear i won't tell a soul>

   <that's good. daddy said i shouldn't lie to him any more but he wouldn't like if i told someone mom yelled at him>

<yeah, it's bad to lie to your parents> <but maybe little secrets like this are okay> <no more texting anyone without permission though!>

   <yeah, i'm sorry I lied mrJ>     <hows the trip going now? i hope you don't have to be alone today like yesterday>

   <no, today i got to help uncle A with a new video!>    <uncle A came here yesterday and he and uncle L were being gross>    <they make the best videos>    <but daddy is better than them>    <daddy is the best>    <even grandpa says so but he told me not to tell uncle L because he would get upset>

<that's very sensible off him>

   <i helped making this video too!>

There's a link to a youtube video Jaskier clicks open without much thought. Except when he sees the channel he has to check to make sure he got it right. He knows this channel, he has watched almost every single video, including the one Fiona just sent him.

 Camera zooms into a ginger headed man holding a sword, knee-deep in what looks like a natural pond.

 "Oi, did you see it?" the cameraman asks laughing so hard the camera shakes

 "Of course, not, you bastard! You were holding me down while it swam past!"

 "Do you know what it is?"

 "Fucking drowners I bet." the ginger man grumbles and lets out a yell as a blue-skinned monster leaps out of water. "Oi, fuck you, put that camera down and come help me!"

 "Eh, you're doing fine! Show me that arse!" the cameraman laughs and the camera shakes.

 "Fucking bitch ass cat!"

 "I love you too!"

 The camera moves to reveal a second blue-skinned monster closer, close enough to reach the camera.

 "Oi, cub, catch!"

 The camera flies in the air and for a while nothing but sky and leaves are visible. The camera turns back to show the cameraman killing the monster with a sword, a spray of blood flying in the air.

 "Still struggling there, love?"

 "I killed four while you were a prick killing only one! I'm not cooking for you tonight!"

 "Oh, I'm wounded, how will I survive without the love of my life cooking for me?"

 The ginger man gives the giggling cameraman the finger, a smile tugging at his lips.

Jaskier doesn't even glance at the comment section where the evergoing debate about the videos is going strong. In Jaskier's opinion it's stupid, no real witcher would post videos like this of their work. It's just two guys having too much time and energy in their hands making the videos look as realistic as possible, probably a combination of CGI and practical effects.

He has to admit, he is slightly hooked. Kittencam69 has been making these videos for a couple of years and while this is no way his favourite video, it's clear it was important to Fiona to be a part of making it.

His favourite videos are probably the ones where the ginger man yells from his window at werewolves. Or the one where they fight a wyvern, the effects of that one were truly gorgeous.

Why would someone spend their talent on something like this is beyond him, but who is he to judge? He still can't believe how anyone thinks the monsters in the videos are real though. He's far more interested if the two men are really dating or if that's just their way of talking to each other. He's 95% certain they are dating.

A text from Yen interrupts his thoughts.

   <I found a book for your paper>    <I'll drop it in an hour>

<oh, thank you, that's very kind of you>

   <shut up and accept the book>    <you don't want your paper turning out shite>

This time around, when Yen comes, Jaskier is wearing trousers.

"Here's your book," Yen greets him and tosses an old book on the kitchen table hard enough Jaskier has to leap to grab it before it slides off the table and drops on Roach who is of course right there.

"Hello, nice to see you, why won't you come in and have some tea?" Jaskier says with a mocking voice and bows, pulling a chair out for her.

"I see you haven't set the house on fire," Yen says as she sits down.

"Please, I'm not that terrible of a cook!" Jaskier exclaims as he puts the kettle on.

"Right, you were eating nothing but instant ramen last time I was here."

"That!" Jaskier points at Yen in mock outrage, "was one day! One unfortunate day I was a mess and you think I live like that?!"

"Of course, I'm never wrong." Yen smiles sharp and Jaskier can't help the cold shivers running down his back.

"You're terrible, that's what you are..." he mumbles as he digs out mugs from the cabinet. "So what this book then?" Jaskier takes the book he'd put the cover down on the table and almost drops it. 'Fifty Years of Poetry' stares at him from the cover of the book.

"Oh, just something I had lying around, you know," Yen drawls in what Jaskier is quite certain is mock indifference. He squints his eyes at her in suspicion.

"So you're telling me you had one of the most sought after books in the academic world just 'lying around' and decided to give it to some random uni student?"

"Please, don't think I'm doing this for you." Yen waves him off, "You're an idiot."

"Why, thank you for the compliment, ma'am." Jaskier bows again. "Do you want the pink or the white mug?"

They settle down on the table, cups of tea and some biscuits Jaskier got after last time Yen visited.

"I- ah- had some questions about Geralt." Jaskier admits shyly as he puts the 'Fifty Years of Poetry' safe away from the table. He wouldn't want to ruin a book that valuable by accidentally spilling something on it.

"Hm, what did he do?"

"Oh, no nothing! It's nothing like that. I was just- maybe if you could- you don't have to of course-"

"Just spit it out, Julian," Yen interrupts him, sounding both put-out and bored, a feat Jaskier can only hope to master.

"Maybeyouwouldknowifhe'sseeinganyoneorsomething..." Jaskier manages to mumble out, which makes Yen burst out laughing.

"Oh, gods, I thought this was something serious, you had me for a moment there." Yen falls into a fit of giggles Jaskier is sure is aimed at him. Or perhaps at the thought of Geralt seeing anyone but the way Yen thrills at his discomfort tells him it's the former.

Of course, the hot cat dad is not single, who is he even kidding. He should probably just think about the book he got. And his thesis. And definitely, not the hot cat dad whose bed he's been sleeping in for the past month.

He is doomed.

***

It's high time to do something about the vegetable garden.

Or literally anything to avoid his thesis, if Jaskier is completely honest with himself.

Roach is chasing something in the bushes and Jaskier is happier not knowing what unfortunate small animal will face its maker. He stares at the vegetable garden which at this point seems to be about 50-50 vegetables and weeds. At least the plants are alive.

"I should have done this several times already, right, Roachie?" Jaskier asks the cat who emerges from the bushes covered in leaves and dirt. She gives him a wide berth and digs a hole at the other end of the patch.

"I swear to gods, Roach, if I find cat poop when I'm weeding this thing you will not get out for a week, do you hear me?"

Roach does not listen to him. Of course, she doesn't. She covers the hole she made and runs back into the bushes.

"That's disgusting, Roach. You have a perfectly fine litter box inside why would you do that to me?"

Roach doesn't answer. In fact, Jaskier is quite certain she's not listening to him at all, far more interested in whatever is the bushes.

A large lock on the door of the shed stops his gardening endeavours quite efficiently. He tries in vain to find the key somewhere close by but has to give up after a while.

"Okay, so if I were a key where would I be?" Jaskier rummages through the kitchen and the living room, only finding a stash of cat toys under the sofa.

"Oi, what are you so happy about? I know it was you who hid them there!" Jaskier cries at Roach who jumps in the middle of the pile startling him.

His search leads him into the study, Roach hot on his heels. She jumps on top of the bookshelf and Jaskier finds himself marvelling yet again how effortless Roach makes the almost two and a half metre jump look like.

"Hey, Roachie, came in to check what I'm up to?" Jaskier asks as he tries to open the top drawer of the desk. "Aaah, shite, why I never remember which side is locked..." he mumbles as he moves to the other end of the massive desk and opens the top drawer on that side.

All he finds is stationary in an amazing array of boring and practical to colourful and silly. He suspects the likes of the pink glitter pens with pompoms at the top are the results of Fiona getting to decide what to get.

He moves to the bookshelf next, more out of boredom than any real thought about finding the key. The books all look incredibly boring, ranging from computer science to physics and the sort. Nothing that would catch Jaskier's eye.

He takes one book out in random and opens it to leaf it through if to do nothing else at least he gets to avoid writing his thesis. But what greets him in the pages makes him almost drop the book entirely.

Monsters.

Pages after pages about monsters. Detailed drawings, stories, myths, facts. Anything in between.

Jaskier feels his fingers turn numb from the sheer shock. He looks at the bookshelf again and pulls another book, then another and another.

Monsters. Potions. Magic. Elder races. It's all there. Jaskier can't even comprehend the sheer volume of knowledge that has been at his grasp for over a month without him knowing anything about it and it makes his head spin. He needs... he needs to read everything.

The bling of his phone brings him back from his frantic search for more and more books.

   <mommy said she comes to see you>    <she wants to see my new tutor>

Jaskier stares at his phone, panic rising in his throat. He's... well him? Not some sort of accomplished tutor Fiona's mother is surely expecting.

<When is she coming?>

Just as he presses send he hears the front door open.

"Julian? Are you here?"

Oh shit. Oh. Shit.

He's so screwed.

   <now>

"Yen? I'm upstairs, I'll be right there!" he shouts. He's so screwed. Yen, of all people, is Fiona's mother.

She is going to kill him.

Another surge of panic hits him. He asked Yen if Geralt was single! She's his... wife? ex? An old flame? Whatever she is, that is not someone to ask something like that.

"Julian? What are you doing- oh! You found Geralt's books."

"I'm sorry...!" Jaskier whispers, suddenly terrified of the woman in the doorway. "I didn't mean to snoop, I swear, I was only looking for a key to the shed to find some gardening tools, I never meant-!"

Yen silences him with a dismissive gesture with her hand, "I don't care about the books. If he's stupid enough to leave them for you to find it's not my problem. What I came here for was to talk about Fiona. Care to offer me some tea?"

"Tea? Um, yeah sure... tea coming right away..." he feels like he avoided death.

"Sooo, I'm finally face to face with the famous Mr J." Yen says when she has a steaming mug of tea in front of her.

Jaskier slumps on a chair opposite of her and buries his face in his hands.

"Please, don't murder me, I didn't know you were her mother..." he mumbles from between her fingers, wailing up in his misery almost far enough he doesn't hear Yen snort.

"Please, I wouldn't murder you for that. For something else though..."

"Please, don't murder me for any reason," Jaskier begs, not lifting his face from his hands.

"Don't worry, you're way too unimportant to be murdered." Yen pats his arm.

"Why am I relieved to hear that?" Jaskier moans and finally uncovers his face to look at Yen. "So, you presumably wanted to talk about Fiona before you murder me?"

"True. She has her final tests coming up before summer and she's fallen way more behind than I thought."

"Wait, wait, I thought you didn't want to murder me?" Jaskier squeaks. Yen gives him a terrifying smile.

"Like I was saying. She has fallen behind on her studies. And I need you to tutor her, properly this time, not just helping with her homework. I will pay you of course. And a bonus if I feel she did well enough in her tests."

"Pay me?" Jaskier asks, suddenly way more interested. He could, in theory, save the extra money towards a deposit for a place for his own, which he'll need soon if some other gig doesn't come up during the next few weeks.

"I'll give you double what Geralt is paying you. Tripple if Fiona's grades are good enough."

The biscuit Jaskier was eating drops from his mouth.

"Ah, shite, fuck!" he tries desperately to stop the crumbs from spreading everywhere, failing spectacularly.

"I'm so glad we have an agreement. I'll see you around, Julian." Yen rises from her chair and before Jaskier has the chance to collect a single thought, she's already gone.

[certifiedceraunophile]

7, 15, 17 and 20 :)

SO THIS IS MY FIRST EVER ASK ANSWER,

7. What’s the last thing you read that made you cry?

Honestly it wasn’t a fic or anything, it was actually, this blinding beam of sunshine’s-  ( @carolineforbae ) comment on my fic ‘It’s a Touch Regrettable’

 This queen left a whole rant underneath the fic, unadulterated emotions flowing and spilling,Just the memory of it makes me wanna curl up on a warm bed of grass and weave flower garlands, that comment’s screenshot is actually my phone’s lockscreen picture. I’m not kidding.

 I’m in a healthy happy married relationship with that comment and we were actually wondering about kids just yesterday, so yeah. 

15. Post the last line you wrote without context.

‘But then she catches sight of Klaus’ face and she knows whats displayed across her eyes, it’s awe, it’s wonder, it’s reverence and most of all it’s such incriminating disbelief, and he knows just as much as she, those emotions only come from an undeserving woman. A woman with her head screwed on right enough to pass sound judgement on herself and decisively assign herself unworthy, but that doesn't stop her from greedily taking what she’s been given so freely, that she will take with thanks but would never pay it back, because how could she?

She is unfit for having it in the first place.’

17. Describe a fic that is still in the ‘ideas’ stage.

I’ll do you one better, here’s the aesthetic for a fic that has like “I came, I saw, I conquered” my mind, (pun intended, you’ll understand in a moment).

It’s been burning out my braincells like it’s on fire. I mean the amount of story plot lines and random dialogues that are literally bursting out of my mind like confetti strings honestly it was just all over the place I needed to calm down and compartmentalise so I did this to give the ideas in my head an image, and I got a bit carried away, clearly.

It’s an Ancient Rome-meets-Roman Gladiator-meets-Enemies to Lovers-meets-Mikael you son of a bitch I require your head on this platter, so please do the needful-meets-Caroline giving sponge baths to a dirty bruised yet victorious gladiator!klaus-meets-SMUT.

20. Do you have a favourite fanfic or author? If so, tag them/post a link and share the love!

The list of authors is too long, too too long, but I can bring it down to one person for you,

FIRST AND FOREMOST, 

Like, 

Lend me your ears my fellow plebes, as we stand in the presence of divine erudition, seasoned and soft yet coarse as velvet rubbed the wrong way, A blazing gloriole burst upon her lovely visage, cut her open and you shall find sands from a thousand realms spill forth, every flutter of her eyelash a turn of a page, Kingdoms have not crumbled at the touch of her hands, but the spine of a hundred tomes of sentiment narrated with unfettered reach have, bent with atlas humility as if to say, ‘have me, all of me’ and she devours. 

Honestly I have no idea how to end this, but the ‘her’ I’m talking about is the one and only,

@cbk1000

DO YOU UNDERSTAND THE HONOUR AND PRIVILEGE I FEEL TO EVEN SAY HER NAME,

LIKE BRO, hold me for a second,

This writer is by far the one writer who has captured Caroline, Klaus, Rebekah and Kol, in the most REALEST way.

Like she knows these characters and presents them to us in their most tragically raw state of being, no dilutions, no misplaced underlining, no flower crowns on their head, they are given to you shrivelled, hurt, broken and aged and you bow your head in reverence.

In their most downtrodden days we will cherish them, in their ugliest cruelest days of such evil no love diminishes, in their most deific of moments your knees will buckle and you will submit.

She does not sugarcoat and downplay the most disgusting aspects of their character, presents it to us as they are and tells us,“Hold them, they burn your hands, but hold them still.” and we will do it, like GOD I’M NOT ARTICULATING THIS WELL, hold on, lemme collect my thoughts 

I MEAN SHE HAS KLAUS KILL A BABY, COOK yes, COOK SAID BABY AND THEN FEED THE ROASTED BABY TO ITS FATHER, ALL UNBEKNOWNST TO SAID FATHER AND I THINK ‘FINALLY, KLAUS AS KLAUS AND NOT KLAUS BUT CENSORED BLUR PLACED ON TOP OF EVERYTHING BUT HIS DICK.’

like does that make sense? I really hope that makes sense.

And OK her writing, like her WRITING itself, like remove Klaroline, remove the originals, remove vampires, werewolves, witches, etc etc, and give her a shoelace to right about and she will BLOW YOUR FCKING MIND AWAY. you will worship that piece of literary wonder, it’s poetry, it’s sacred scriptures, it’s imagery, its a fucking PAINTING.

that’s what it is,

IT’S A PAINTING and it’s A MOVING PICTURE.

She doesn’t create a world for you, no she’s nothing so boorish, she merely rules this universe of hers and she’s magnanimous enough to allow you entry, a visit, stay a few days, EXPERIENCE, LIVE, and then you leave a changed human, and this universe she rules will always have a special place in your heart and soul.

THE DEDICATION this writer shows to research, to historic accuracy, to  literally EVERYTHING that is not necessarily the plot itself, GOD, that deserves a separate spiel for itself, the way she makes everything so AUTHENTIC, her describing the fall of the Romonav dynasty as just another byproduct of Klaus’ recreational machinations, JESUS, LIKE THAT transcends storytelling and now is sitting in a place called shared reverie.

I MEAN GO AND READ,

Wherewith to Sate Its Malice

For the Pikes Must be Together

Five Times the Sinner

AND MOST OF ALL,

AU Original series

and come back and read this author review, you’ll agree to everything I’ve said. I promise.

[titconao3]

tagged by @beguilewritesstuff​

i’m going to change the formatting bcs i’m evil like that and must ramble on, feel free to ignore. as usual, i take these things way to literally and i don’t understand the questions, probably.

tagging: whoever’s into this!

indoor plants or gardens: depends on whether we’re talking in my place, or everywhere. If everywhere, both. If my place, none: i can’t be arsed to take proper care. also i’ve tried to have plants in pots and i tried to Do Things Right and it didn’t work out, so... i gave up. know thyself and thy limits etc

cloud-watching or star-gazing  both yes both, as long as i have proper eye-protection from the sun for option 1.

water or fire ...uuuh.... watching a fire in a hearth etc (i mean, not Nero style, obv) is great? but the ocean too? i don’t understand T_T

paperback or hardcover hardcover: too heavy. but i often use an e-reader.

running or hiking: omg neither. running means dying lungs, Extremely Painful Knees, etc very quickly. Hiking is... idk, everything is bad: i get all the branches in my face, all the rocks start moving when i step on them, etc. Put me in a city and i can walk for hours; put me in nature and i #suffer. i have also been somewhat traumatized by people claiming “Oh come one it’s a small easy walk not even a HIKE” and it was in fact climbing up a small mountain with very narrow, gravely, unstable paths hugging the side of the mountain and if you stumbled, ti meant a fall so SOMEHOW i have become Extra Wary of the word “hiking”

sleeping with socks or without socks although with wouldn’t be a problem. i use a hot water bottle in winter.

fruit or vegetables fruit only if i can use them in a salad, or cook them LIKE a veg.

hanging plants or succulents see above re indoor / outdoor plants. succulents also mean repotting etc; they’re not care-free.

dark wood or light wood both yes both. i have both at home, in the same room.

handwritten or typed typed is way easier to read. ofc if we’re talking postcard, personal letter etc, handwritten is more pleasant, personal touch etc. my handwriting is terrible, btw.

instagram or pinterest: neither. who wants to see my face or what i eat? no one, not even me. pinterest: i don’t even really understand what it’s for apart from thing to filter out of my google & co searches.

braids or pigtails: on me, neither. my hair refuses (because length when it’s short, because it’s not thick enough if not, and in any case it just Won’t Stay In Place)

dc or marvel i’m not super familiar with DC, although Batman is my kind of character.

books or movies why would i choose? my attention span has drastically reduced since childhood, but it means it affects both. 

oceans or meadows: meadows > flowers > sneezing.

forests or fields: see meadows above

sweet or salty oh yeah i’m def not one for sugar.

ice cream or chocolate you... you (person who created this) do know there’s chocolate ice-cream, right? but i’ll go with DARK chocolate. DARK only, 70% cocoa minimum. i can accept salt / pepper / coffee / mint if i MUST, in it. D A R K

hoodies or sweaters: tbh both but a hood is def good at times.

piercings or tattoos: i have or want neither. they’re cool on other people, but i don’t really feel a need for myself. If for other people, both, if for myself, neither.

summer or winter well, the cold is easier to deal with than the heat because once you’re naked you can’t take your skin off, but longer sunlight is good? probably??

boots or sneakers WhaT Am i DOinG How Am i SupPoseD tO KnoW

cars or motorcycles: public transportation ;-) but i have a licence for cars only, not motorcycles.

curls or straight hair: i have curls, if that is the question; on other people, idgaf

castles or cottages to visit? to live in? i mean, castles are super expensive to maintain... and what kind of castle? European Middle Ages? even among those, there is a Wide Variety in architecture. if we’re including more geographical & historical areas... 

sunny days or storms: once again, *bafflement* storms are really cool to watch but can be destructive, and sunny days can be too hot or painful if i don’t have sunglasses but are pleasant if mild...

reptiles or birds: as pets neither. i don't want to be responsible for a living thing, and end up not caring for them properly because i’m too tired / not in the mood etc. otherwise, i’m totally cool with both. however... birds are dinosaurs are reptiles (private joke moment!!! @pixelbypixelfanfic​ do you remember that museum). a baby bird pooped on my once, idk if that counts. oh and i got adult bird poop on me too. this hasn’t happened, yet, with reptiles.

disney or nickelodeon: (what about if you’re not the USA) i have never been into what we think of Disney (princesses and THE CONSTANT SINGING), and don’t have nickelodeon here

strawberries or watermelon: well i’m not into fruit or sweet things, as previously established. Watermelon can go into salads, and strawberries one in a while are okay i guess?

essays or posters... i don’t understand. posters go on wall? do you people put essays on walls??? what IS the question *sobs*

phones or laptops or desktop desktop because big screen, big keyboard, separate mouse: more comfortable. if not, laptop. if i’m desperate and far away from both, phone.

glass or stone i drink in glasses, i wear glasses, i have Pretty Decorative Stones. ik, what are we talking about?

dark or light: if it’s a computer screen setting, dark. if we’re in winter and outside, light, otherwise it’s too cold. i need context!!1!1!1!

photos or paintings: uuuuh. i have a few paintings from my grandfather around, but not photos. that's, um. i mean. photos... that’s... old? or are we talking about stuff that stays on your hard drive? i have a bunch, from trips. as long as my face isn’t there, cool; i take them to remember. i’ve found that the action of taking the pic was enough to help me remember, not necessarily looking at them again: because i make the conscious decision of taking the pic, thinking about what i want to preserve,et c, somehow it sets the brain drive into memory mode, at last better than if i didn’t take pics.

circuses or theatres: neither; RL, live shows make me uncomfortable.

reading or writing i do both but i only write fanfic.

dogs or cats i like both, i would have neither.

poetry or novels poetry just leaves me cold. i know, i know, how dare i.

monsters or ghosts why choose?? (shaniac though)

thrift shops or libraries: i like browsing through thrift shops, and i’ve lost my voracious Real Grownup Book reading obsession that i had in my younger years. i like looking at silly mugs and cute objects and sometimes i’ll buy something, and Do Good at the same time when they’re charity shops!

fiction or non-fiction both, although these days fiction is mostly fic.