#yes this is an au fic. no i will probably never pursue this au beyond this one offshoot fic.

[pyrriax]

hi tumblr im a normal individual that writes extremely normal fics. [through tears.]

[nefastum]

Have you ever thought about writing a genderbend fanfiction about Guts as a woman & Griffith? What would a female Guts look like for you? Do you think Griffith would act the same if Guts was a lady? I think he would most likely pursue her but Guts would be too scared because of horrible experiences in her past and reject him and Femto...well he would do the same he did in the manga. I think this is great material for a darkfic. What do you think?

Hello there, love~ I hadn't considered writing a fic, per se, but I have seen a few fem!Guts interpretations and have been tempted to try designing my own. Perhaps I shall get around to that, so keep an eye out for my take on her.

As for if Griffith would be interested in her, I would have to say yes. I don't think it was Guts exclusively being a man that drew Griffith to him, but more so, Guts' demeanor and attitude. There was something about him that instantly intrigued Griffith to an eventual point of infatuation beyond what even Griffith could put a name to at the time. I think that same spark would be lit regardless of Guts' gender. Perhaps Guts being a woman warrior would be yet another fascinating layer to the enigma of a young mercenary.

If Guts still had that persona that fascinated Griffith, he'd absolutely still find Guts distracting. I think a key difference would be that pursuing Guts openly would not be a dangerous/scandalous affair if they were m/f. I imagine Griffith would feel less internal conflict about the intensity of his interest in Guts. Perhaps that would lead him to admiting it was love/infatuation sooner. If he did, I can imagine his approach to overt affection might be different from their m/m canon. Of course, there is still his dream to consider, so pursuing Guts as a permanent romantic partner would butt up against his need to marry into royalty still. Ahh, it is really hard to say how he would handle his feelings towards Guts if openly courting Guts was an option that wouldn't compromise his reputation in the eyes of Midland and its connection to the Holy See, even if that meant abandoning his dream for her.

If Guts still wanted to leave the band, though, and the same downfall of Griffith occurred, I agree the Eclipse would still likely be unavoidable. Griffith’s mental state was a wreck. He wasn't in the mindset to be able to handle a second abandonment. Assuming Casca and Guts still spoke of Guts leaving the band again, Griffith would probably crack the same way as canon. As for the exact events of the Eclipse... it's really hard to say. Griffith used sex before to bury his anger and pain. Accosting Charlotte after Guts left and trying to force himself on Casca in his weakened state post torture. I think the assault by Femto only follows form. He was feeling immense amounts of mental and physical pain and anger. The only question I'm not sure of in this reality is if it would be Casca or Guts herself Femto assaults? In a darkfic setting, I could easily see it going either way. On one hand, Guts would have been violated as a young girl, and being forced to watch Casca experience the same trauma would be triggering (not unlike canon tbh). On the other hand, (and I've come across this in m/m griffguts art/darkfic as well) you could make it Guts herself that Femto abuses. Almost as if to say, "You may have rejected me, but you can never deny me. You are mine. You belong to me." Dark stuff, my friend.

Quite the interesting thought exercise! Typically, I only view griffguts in a m/m light (and occasionally a w/w AU), but m/f could be really interesting as well to delve into. Tbh, gender doesn't make a huge world of difference in my interest in character relationships, aside from the in-world implications that can add strife or spice hehe. It's one of the reasons my main ships are all over the place ^ ^;; I think m/f have just as much potential for dark, angsty, heartachingly interesting storytelling as any other ♡ I'm up for anything-- especially in a darkfic mwhaha~ m/m, w/w, m/f, give me all of it.

Thank you for the ask, dear Anon ♡ You've given me much to think about~

Please, have a happy new year, as well 💕

[feather-dancer]

Tales of Arcadia Fanfic Recommendations - Part 6

I do admittedly have things left to read in my tabs I’d normally prefer to clear out before posting one of these but when you sail past the 30 mark I think it’s about time to get it out my drafts, yeah? Most importantly means this will be out before Rise of the Titans comes and emotionally destroys us all.

Needless to say soon as this is posted I give it 24 hours before 7 starts, we’ve got some amazing writers in this fandom and there’s a couple I juuust want one more chapter before I feel I can recommend it. Hope you find something you enjoy :)

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5

If at all interested in my own writing you can find it here!

General Trollhunters

Romeo, Question Mark - Jim is figuring himself out and has a question for Toby though nervous of how he might react. Honestly the support Aromantic’s need when they’re either questioning or coming out, Toby is a gem.

By The Book - After his dad left changing his world Jim had moments in his life where he needed to wrangle things in a way he could understand them with some moral support along the way that wasn’t there to do it for him, just give a light nudge the right direction. Comes with light Jilaire fluff.

That I Could Fear a Door - Jim was pulled from the Darklands whole but you cannot escape the trauma of your experiences quite so easily. It will take a little time, a lot of patience and perhaps the right ear to listen but with it can come hope.

Lest Back the Awful Door Should Spring - Sequel to the above, Jim’s capture to be sentenced by the tribunal echoes his experiences in the Darklands a little too closely sending all his careful progress hurtling back in one fell swoop. Is it any wonder he chose a false freedom that Unkar offered?

Façade - The confirmation that Mr. Strickler is not the man you thought he was probably was not going to be an easy one, Jim’s thoughts sit ill after that dinner.

Fashion - All changelings take root somewhere in a human life before their changeling one succeeds it and Nomura is no different. She felt love she could not understand and the ache of loss will follow for as she meanders through this world by the Whisper Man’s orders and her own volition of needing to belong somewhere. She will try her hand with the humans and the trolls, paint the road with blood as much as indulging herself with the arts and even risking her heart until everything leads her to Arcadia’s doorstep.

In Deep Trouble - What happened in the Deep during Season 2?

Aftermath - Just after the finale of Season 2 the Market trolls are forced to run leaving their homes behind and follow the Trollhunter they had dismissed so many times into the great unknown before them.

Don’t think - Jim weighs up his options and attempts to settle his thoughts before making the final decision whether or not to go through with using Merlin’s potion.

Nocturne for a Trollhunter - Jim learns a new hobby that gives him another way to relax that doesn’t involve cooking, one that follows him beyond Arcadia.

The Asteroid - A rare 3Below fic for my lists if centered on a certain hedge witch and Wizard. The end of the world is coming but not by Morgana’s hand and Merlin certainly never warned Douxie about it so if this truly is the end then it’s the best time to bring your loved ones close so you won’t be going out alone. Yes it’s Zouxie.

A bright future so it seemed (but that light grew a little less bright) - Claire’s parents (Or more specifically Ophelia) set her on the perfectionist’s path early, even a little slip can feel like the end of the world

Rest, Master Jim - You might be able to escape the Darklands but you cannot escape the consequences of being trapped there for so long as easily.

General Wizards

Not Found - So why did neither Douxie or Archie find the two remaining changelings in Arcadia or bring back the sole Akiridion when Merlin asked?

Place of Power - A lovely bit of shameless Zouxie fluff in that brief period the gang was at Hex Tech before the plot came to get them.

Bitter Water - Only two of the old team remain in Arcadia and those were Jim and Krel, the rest having left to pursue educational pursuits and in one particular case kept away for Nari’s safety. For the Akiridion he is still here with reminders of his heritage and what it took to have this life on earth chasing him all the way. It’s always good to have friends with a listening ear and hot chocolate.

Together, Dearest - The very act of resting is a potential invitation for nightmares and Nari is no different but when once more in the waking world you will find you’re not alone, there are hugs available.

The Night Belongs To Us - Lovingly described Skraelroc fluff during their long hunt for Merlin and the strangeness that can be observed on clearer nights.

Nineteen Plus Nine Hundred, Give Or Take - 900 years is a long time by anyone’s standards but perhaps during that Douxie can figure out how to truly live.

Twelfth Century Wizard, Twenty-First Century Witch - The follow up to the above, when you’ve lived a long and interesting life things can still pop up in odd ways... Even if you haven’t quite mastered the sacred art of texting yet.

ERAS TÚ (It was you). | Tales of Arcadia One-Shot - Would you want to live forever if it meant leaving everyone behind? Jilaire.

the only way for us to go - From his rescue from the streets of Camelot to the eventual guardian of this realm, Douxie has come a very, very long way. Through the frustrations of trying to learn magic, the belittling of others, the faith of Morgana and the power of music his experiences throughout 900 years truly make him what he is.

lay down your head - Even the mightiest can be plagued with the not so humble migraine. Skraelroc fluff.

Stricklake

Merry Christmas, Doctor Lake - Some Christmas gifts are worth going all out for and getting your friends and family to help out to make it extra special.

Grocery Run - After the incident where Merlin dismissed Strickler for being a changeling it is time for an excuse to get out the house for a bit and have a frank discussion about their relationship, the future beyond the incoming battle and lingering insecurities of two worlds colliding.

Alternate Universe

Fashionista, How Do You Look? - An AU that very much takes the term very literally here where everyone is human, Skrael, Bellroc and Nari are fashion designers plus many other ToA characters we know and love are either in the industry in some way themselves or on the fringes because of their jobs/who they know. Sometimes you work with catty bitches and want to kick back and watch the fireworks you know? Contains friends to almost to enemies to friends to maybe we’ll get our shit together this time but the odds aren’t great Skraelroc. There’s also a Zouxie oneshot in this collection that was a gift for meee because of the corner I dug in the AU.

Atlas, Fallen - When a star falls from the sky it is a punishment so when Atlas suddenly finds himself amongst the humans he had observed from above for countless ages in a flesh body like theirs he fears his Mother is punishing him and unable understand what he did wrong. While trying to find his way back home he gets a crash course in what it’s like to be human making friends along the way. Slow burn Jilaire.

she once was a true love of mine - I put this under the AU section even though it wavers between that and not, a mixture of classical Arthurian mythos and the glimpses of the Camelot in Tales of Arcadia where one kingdom collapses from war another strengthens by taking their princess as queen. While Arthur might have turned her head once it is the sibling that seems to be catching Gwen’s eye of late as much as her thoughts. Morgwen but in the department of pining.

Pulled From The Ocean - AU doesn’t quite fit this one but it feels a bit more fitting than general. A little oneshot snapshot of Jim living with deafness and the contrast of one world that falls easily into supporting that whereas the other tries their best but it makes the slip ups sting even more.

you are a stranger here, why have you come? - Fate is a funny old thing, something happens a little bit differently such as a father not leaving alone and everything can change so drastically. Nari’s fondness for children strikes again and this time it involves a 5-year old Jim Lake Jr. ending in the Order’s care and their foray into found family. Somehow Jim is even more of a disaster and as likely surmised from the fact I write this trope myself I am very weak for it.

go into your local forest and you will find a friend and a boy - Toby was unlucky in the friend department and by the time he is ten he still feels miserable and lonely having to endure Steve’s increasing bullying all the while. This is of course until he finds a blue half-troll hiding out the daylight hours munching cans in the local woods...

[id-rather-be-an-outsider]

Pick Your Poison

Pieck Finger x Porco Galliard,

Pieck Finger x Zeke Yeager

word count: 1531

summary: Pieck is the receptionist for the science department at Marley U, Zeke is a professor in the same department. Porco is an intern who’s finishing up his degree to get on the faculty there as well. That is all. No story here, not at all.

a/n: I like college AUs, die mad. nothing horny here, just... aftermath. And just for clarity the behavior Pieck and Zeke exhibit as mentioned in this fic are NOT BEHAVIORS I CONDONE so if u do this I will berate you for it like a very disappointed mother

masterlist

“Fuck you.” I say as I put my clothes back on.

“You just did.” Porco says to me, “And don’t act like you didn’t like it.” He smiles like we’re in high school again and not newly hired university staff.

“I told you not to come over. Zeke’s gonna be here any minute.”

He scowls. “Oh, right, I forgot you’re only with him so your parents think you’re dating someone they like.”

I scoff. “Zeke is responsible! And mature, and thoughtful, and-“

“-Don’t forget using you for his own personal gain, purposely hiding your relationship from the general public so he can cheat on you-“

“Shut up.” I snap as he starts listing shit off on his fingers. “He’s only supposed to look the part, I never told him he had to act it.”

We rush to put clothes on in silence until he says, “Are you just expecting to date him until your parents die or something?”

I throw my hands up in the air. “Porco I don’t know! Are you expecting me to date you?”

“I’m just saying,” He deflects, “You know they won’t be satisfied with you and Zeke breaking up eventually. And considering you’re making attempts to hide us from him, you must know that Zeke feels the same way. And you’re catering to his feelings.”

“I am not.”

“Are too,” He insists, “And if I’m being honest, you need to figure it out. You know how I feel.”

I say, “And I told you, if you find someone you like better or are just interested in, you don’t need my permission to pursue them. Just don’t fuck me after that.”

“I know.” He says. “But maybe there is no one else who can pique my interest quite as much as you do.”

“You only like me because I’m unavailable to you, so it’s naughty and scandalous.” I roll my eyes.

“Maybe that was the case at first, but things change.” He admits, pulling on his shoes.

“What do you mean?” I ask, brows furrowed.

“What do you think I mean?” He counters. “We’ve been doing this, hanging out and stuff, for a long time. Don’t tell me you can’t think of one redeeming quality about yourself beyond just the sex that I’ve stuck around for.”

I can feel the heat coming to my face at his remark. “Well, not to be humble or anything, but I don’t really think about myself in that way all that much. So you’d have to tell me.”

“Oh, so you like it when I say nice things about you?” He says, standing up and walking over to corner me. “Didn’t know that.”

“That’s not what I said!” I argue.

He lowers his voice. “But don’t act like you don’t secretly like it. I know you too well for you to play me like that, Pieck.”

A knock comes from the door. My eyes widen. Zeke’s here. “Gimme a minute!” I call, then whisper to Porco, “You have to leave!”

“Off the back porch? But your neighbors will see me.”

“How else? And like they’d care, they have threesomes over there.” I punch Porco’s arm when he gets a look in his eye. “No. I don’t like sharing.”

“And I like it even less than you do.” He states, wrapping me in a quick hug and kissing my forehead. “See you later. Have fun with your Professor.” And climbs down the balcony as I run to the door.

“Zeke!” I exclaim, “I’m so happy to see you.” My warm smile falters when I see his face. He knows. I usher him in as I stare at the ground and close the door.

“I know that was Porco.” He says simply. Flatly.

“Y... yes....” I say, not sure exactly what to say.

“How long are you going to keep this charade up? Presenting me to your parents like we’re madly in love, meanwhile having him in your bed almost every night. Hm?” He asks me, not in an aggressive way, but definitely not gently.

I protest, “I could ask you the same, with all the panties I’ve found in your apartment.”

He sighs, rubbing his hand against his face. “Pieck, I only strayed when I suspected you and Porco. Not saying it’s an excuse,” He quickly defends, “But I think we both can agree the blood’s on both of our hands.”

“I didn’t start fucking him until I found the evidence against you anyways!” I scoff, knowing he’s full of shit. “And what about hiding our relationship from everyone and their mother?”

He looks surprised. “Well. Then I misjudged your relationship with him... partially. Anyways, why wouldn’t I? Everyone on staff thought you and Porco were together even before we started dating.”

“Zeke, you know all the rumors are just Connie wanting to feel included. He’s a temp worker for a reason.” I remind him.

“Well. What’s done is done, then. But... I have something for you.” He gets down on one knee, producing a small box from his pocket. He doesn’t open it, but I can tell what it is.

“Zeke, what is this...?” I ask, extremely confused as to why he would propose after confirming Porco and I were having sex behind his back.

“I won’t ask you that question, because it isn’t fair of me. But.” He pauses, intentionally making eye contact. “I can’t be alone forever. You know my... condition, makes me a ticking time bomb. If I were to propose to you, it would be under the assumption that we would end our scandalous behaviors and be committed solely to each other. I love you, Pieck. I know you feel something for me. But I also know you care for Porco. If you come to my apartment tomorrow and tell me you’ve cut that attachment off, then I’ll propose to you. If you tell me you couldn’t do it, then I want to part ways. I want to find myself a stable marriage. A loving marriage. One where I can raise my children with my wife, with the picket fence, with the house that looks like a cottage, and maybe a few dogs padding around. When I die, I want to feel like a piece of me is left in this world, not that the woman I married is going to forget me and run to the footloose rebel her parents never wanted her to hang around as a kid.”

I smile sadly and gently push his hand down. “I understand.”

He nods, putting the ring box away. “Thank you, Pieck.”

Zeke’s always been very precise with his words. That’s why he makes such a great professor. That speech is probably the longest spiel he’s been on outside of the classroom. As the science department’s receptionist, I’m better at listening than talking, myself.

I mull this over as I walk to Porco’s apartment, only knocking once before he opens the door. It’s almost like he has a Pieck satellite.

“That was a short visit. What happened?” Porco asks.

“He uh... well, he didn’t propose, but he posed the option.” I say awkwardly.

“And...?” He pushes.

“I turned him down. I told him about this hot intern who caught my eye, and that the university wants to hire them permanently after they get their doctorate.” I laugh.

He smirks, “Well, I sure am glad I managed to catch the eye of the cute receptionist in the science department. What do you think the faculty are gonna say about an inter-department relationship?”

“Oh, they’ve been shipping Piecko forever. I’m more worried about what my parents will say.” I half-joke.

He actually looks worried for a second. “What will they say?”

“Probably something along the line of, ‘You’re an idiot for giving up money like that!’ But I don’t mind being an idiot if it means I’m happy and in love.” I smile and hug him. “You know, Zeke’s vision of our life together was very cookie cutter.”

“Told you he wasn’t right for you. You, Pieck, are no cookie cutter kind of gal. But for curiosity’s sake, what kind of life would that be?” Porco raises a brow, patting the seat next to him as he sits down on his sofa.

“He wanted...” I pause to gather my thoughts. “Dogs, kids, a picket fence - the whole package.”

“Oh, dogs would never do for my Pieck,” Porco says dramatically. “Everyone knows you’d want an African Grey and a Komodo Dragon!”

“Don’t forget a Pixie Frog!” I add, now grinning from ear to ear.

“That too. And your fence would have to be scary, like fake heads on pikes and barbed wire to ward off your enemies.” He suggests.

“Exactly. Why have a protective barrier if it isn’t cryptic enough to keep intruders out?” I say in a tone implying that should be obvious.

“If only the science department knew they had such a weirdo running their front desk.” He jokes, “They’d hunt you down with Tiki Torches.”

“If they did, I’d curse Connie’s mom to be a giant monster, then turn into one myself.”

Porco leans in to softly kiss my cheek. “The faculty wouldn’t stand a chance against you.”

[plasticnightmaredoll]

(art commission by the lovely and talented @curious-menace)

It is a time where I would like to see what my followers think about various concepts I have in mind pertaining to alternate versions of one my fics. It may take some time to write out any alternate versions since I've been busy and stressed out so much lately, but I am very curious as to what others would find intriguing to read.

But first, some backstory so be patient. We'll get to the voting at the end of this post.

I've been having a lot of bad days lately, and my mood has plummeted to a major low. This includes my self-esteem, which has always been in the dumps but is now basically a dumpster fire.

However, I don't want to be entirely cruel to myself. I deserve some sort of happiness, some sort of reprieve, and writing can be a good coping mechanism. I put a lot of my own thoughts, emotions, struggles, opinions, etc. into my works, as they serve as a way for me to get things off my chest. Sometimes, it's just cute and funny stuff, other times angsty but eventually fluffy stuff, and other times it's quite depressing and dark.

One fic, in particular, stands out, and that is the Mortal Kombat/Batman Arkhamverse crossover, "Volunteer," (trigger warnings: mentions psychological torture and suicide...more about this fic in a bit for those who would rather not read it because of those triggers) which features Arkham Knight Edward Nigma and Jonathan Crane, as well as a lady friend for Edward named Sara. It also features Erron Black and Cassie Cage from Mortal Kombat (Cassie is only mentioned in the story a few times).

If you read the blog intro/self-introduction post pinned at the top of my Tumblr, you know very well how I feel about Cassie Cage (particularly in MK11) and the Erron Black x Cassie Cage (BlackCage) pairing. Those negative feelings are mostly due to a very bad experience with a pushy BlackCage fan who just wouldn't relent one bit on their stance and it was emotionally and mentally draining to try and talk to them, including providing counter-arguments.

I've come up with alternate versions for "Volunteer" recently due to the spike in stress, depression, anxiety, and insecurities I've been dealing with as of late. This is where my followers come in!

I would like people to vote on which alternate take on "Volunteer" they would be interested in reading. Now, I can't guarantee when I'd get to it because, as I mentioned already, I've got a lot going on. However, I really want to try and write at least one alternate version of that fic, just to get some insecurities and negative thoughts off my chest.

Now, for those who are wary of reading "Volunteer" because of the trigger warnings, here's my advice: Just read the first chapter, if you want to. Chapter 2 deals directly with the sensitive subject matter, although, you can probably guess what happens anyway just by reading Chapter 1 and if you know anything about Jonathan Crane/Scarecrow...well, he likes to mess with people...mentally. To put it very mildly.

Now it's time for the voting. I have three different scenarios I've come up with that are variations/alternate versions of the current "Volunteer" fic's concept/storyline. I'd like followers to select 1 (one) alternate telling of the fic. I will open anonymous asks again, so if you are shy or just want your vote to remain a secret for some other reason, then that's fine by me. Otherwise, you can reply to this post with your choice.

Edit: if you are turned off by the idea of a Mortal Kombat/Batman Arkhamverse crossover, I get it. I don't read crossover fics myself, and that's usually because the crossovers either make no sense or do make sense but the ideas are poorly executed.

This crossover I'm talking about, though, isn't a full-on crossover of MK and Batman. There's no world-building, no larger plot, and no other characters in MK even appear or are mentioned except Erron Black and Cassie Cage.

If anything, it's more of a Batman Arkhamverse standard AU with Riddler and a female oc, and Erron and Cassie are the only concrete elements of MK brought in. I mean, yes, the other MK characters exist, I guess, but they have no purpose in this crossover I've written, and won't make any appearances.

So, if you had any concerns about the crossover aspect, I hope this clears things up

Choices below the cut!

A) "Don't You Wish"

This version is inspired by a song from Pink, called, "There You Go." In this alternate telling, Erron manages to survive Scarecrow's fear toxin, and escape (most likely because Erron is out of his mind and panicking, thus not a threat, and he has no one to help him, so Scarecrow doesn't give a damn what happens to the dude). The first thing Erron does is go to Sara's place, having already broken up with Cassie after realizing dating her was a mistake, and Sara means more to him than he thought.

Well, it's been several months since Sara basically pushed Erron out of her life for his poor choice in women, and (Arkham Knight) Edward Nigma has proven to be a much better (and, wiser and more sensible -- yes, I know, but he's not a skirt chaser, Guys) friend to Sara. While Erron ran off with a blonde selfie princess, Edward offered genuine comfort and companionship, and now Sara has been in the process of moving on from Erron even further.

Sara humors Erron and lets him tell her -- while sounding terrified, confused, and conflicted beyond belief thanks to the fear toxin -- what happened to him. Now, Sara doesn't know Edward asked Scarecrow to take care of Erron as a means of getting revenge for her. Doesn't matter anyway. She's unsympathetic towards Erron's plight, feeling as if he didn't even give her a chance to confess her feelings towards him, nor did he even seem to notice how she felt; it was like he was too busy with thinking with his privates to realize he had someone in front of him who would have treated him better.

Sara tells Erron -- in a flat, disinterested tone -- that his situation is tragic and all but wtf is she supposed to do? Why not go to his dumb blonde gf? Oh, they broke up? Well, how predictable. And Crane is also a (sort of) friend to Sara, which shocks Erron and leaves him feeling worse than before.

Sara sends Erron on his way, and he wanders off in a daze, unsure of what to do with his life now.

Sara and Edward meet the next day, and they have a pleasant time, obviously moving towards becoming a couple. She chooses not to mention Erron as she is completely severing the cowboy from her life.

B) "I Don't Even Miss You"

This alternate telling is similar to the previous one, but this time it's inspired by a Miley Cyrus song, "WTF Do I Know" (Hey, her Plastic Hearts album is actually fantastic!), and Edward is with Sara when Erron arrives at her place in a distressed state. At first, Sara deals with Erron in the hall of her apartment building, unsympathetic to his plight and basically telling him, "I told you so," and "too bad." Erron is getting more and more upset, even angry at Sara's callous tone, and starts to raise his voice, demanding to know why she is being so cold at a time like this?

Edward overhears Erron raising his voice to Sara, giving her a difficult time, and he gets pissed. Edward steps out into the hall and not only mocks Erron in various ways, but demands that he leave immediately, or what Scarecrow did will seem like a trip to Disney Land. Erron has caused Sara -- who is currently moving on and growing closer to Edward -- enough problems and heartache.

Edward reveals he set up Erron, and while Sara is stunned to find this out, she handles it better than expected. Edward said it was his way of getting revenge for her, and he'd do it again if need be. Erron is sent away feeling so much worse, feeling lost, hopeless, and betrayed.

Sara and Edward talk and she admits she's upset that he did something like this without speaking about it to her first. However, he explains that he genuinely did it for her and he doesn't want her to feel pain at the hands of some "idiotic cowman," who doesn't consider the feelings of others and who behaves like a greedy, violent Neanderthal. (And yes, Edward does care for Sara, and he didn't send Scarecrow after Erron out of jealousy -- maybe a little jealousy but it was mostly rage over Erron causing Sara so much emotional pain)

Sara means more to Edward than he can express, and he may not be the best when it comes to emotions, but he does care about her and wants her to be safe.

Sara forgives Edward, understanding that, through his heartfelt but very nervous and shy confession that he is sincere about his feelings for her, and they make amends. She of course tells him to never do something so extreme without consulting her first, though, because what happened to Erron -- while she doesn't care what happens to him in the slightest -- was a bit too much.

C) "Listen When the Devil's Calling"

Another title inspired by a Miley Cyrus song, "Night Crawling," and this alternate telling involves Telltale Riddler and no Scarecrow. Almost a year has passed since Erron went with Cassie and Sara, out of bitterness and heartache, refused to speak or see him. This didn't sit well with him as she was his only friend, and his relationship with Cassie dies within a few months.

He goes looking for Sara, realizing she has moved out of her apartment. It doesn't take him long to find out where she is, and she's with The Riddler, a notorious criminal genius and one of Gotham's elite villains. Erron is worried for Sara and seeks her out.

Turns out, Sara's just fine. This isn't one of those scenarios where the girl is with a guy who just using her and taking advantage of her vulnerability. No, Edward does actually love her and takes good care of her. He finds people like reckless, selfish, and ignorant people like Erron to be a disgrace but also amusing because of how pathetically primitive they are.

Edward also doesn't appreciate how Erron pushed aside a good thing in Sara to pursue a girl who is a social media brat and has more selfies on her phone than brain cells in her, well, brain. It defies all logic to Edward, but he's also not surprised because of how much of a disappointment Erron is as a human being (hey, this is Riddler we're talking about, and he's not one to be sweet and gentle to those he can't stand). Edward doesn't say these things out loud, though, as it's a bit too vulnerable and personal for him to do such a thing with someone he doesn't know or trust.

Sara is upset that Erron has resurfaced and she remembers how heartbroken she was when he went after Cassie Cage. She wants Erron to leave her alone like she asked, so she can move on. She can't trust him anymore, because he's just a skirt chaser in her eyes.

Erron tries to plead his case, tries to apologize to Sara, and expresses how he really feels, but this just distresses her further. Edward steps in and tells Erron he's done enough to Sara, she clearly doesn't want to see him, and he needs to take his leave.

This isn't a request.

Edward pulls Erron aside, telling the cowboy that the only reason he's going to walk away from this alive is that Sara hasn't asked for him to be killed. Should she tell Edward to take care of Erron, well, you all know what Telltale Riddler is like.

And those are the three variations on "Volunteer."

If you could be so kind as to:

leave a comment with your choice or

send an ask (even an anon ask) with your choice or

suggest your take on this story.

I'd appreciate it immensely!

Thank you all so much for supporting me and my writing and being patient with my sluggish publishing schedule!

[coldtomyflash]

I feel like the most obvious path to Coldwestallen has been to have Barry and Iris get together first, although I've seen a couple fics where Len and Iris do, but I don't think I've ever seen a Coldflash turn into Coldwestallen. Do you think there's a scenario where that could happen ?

 Oh that’s true isn’t it. Probably because it’s easiest, since westallen is established, or since Iris/Len is a bit easier to add Barry to in a natural way. I’ll be honest and say that all the coldwestallen story conceits I have are either westallen that adds cold, or coldwest that adds barry, or westallen and coldwest that gets messy (there’s a double amnesia AU I may still one day write).

That being said - of course there’s a scenario where it could happen.

There’s always a scenario where something could happen :D

I guess you’d have to start with - how did Barry and Len get together and why weren’t Barry and Iris together to start?

I’d honestly say it works best if you go with mid to late S2 for establishing coldflash. That was you don’t have established WA in canon yet to write your way around, and you can ignore Legends and Len leaving town in S2. Just branch from 2x09 where Len warns Barry about the Trickster and Weather Wizard and go from there.

Starting from that - I would say it makes sense to establish coldflash in whatever manner makes sense to you, whether it starts as a frenemies with benefits, blowing off steam kind of thing (my preference), or whether it is them working a case and getting closer until sparks fly (also fun) or something else. But establish coldflash and their dynamic - but don’t yet make it into a super serious and super committed thing.

Len isn’t foolish and he is perceptive - he knows Barry is and always has been holding a candle for Iris. This doesn’t bother him because he doesn’t expect this thing with Barry to get ‘real’. It is what it is, it’s fun, there’s mutual respect and everyone is having a good time, with a bit of spice and danger. If he finds himself a little over-invested, well, that’s on him, and he’ll deal with it when it needs dealing with.

Enter Iris, tentatively opening herself to Barry, finally - feeling ready for something with him (post Eddie’s death, sometime in S2, much like canon). Barry, then, is inexplicably torn - surprising himself, Len, and Iris. This is Unforeseen. Barry’s been in love with Iris for half his life, he’s not supposed to experience any conflict about finally having the opportunity to be with her now that she’s in a place where she’s emotionally open to that.

But, well, he is. Conflicted, that is. Because yeah, he feels for Iris, that hasn’t gone away. But now he’s guilty because, he’s kind of with Len? And really, to his own surprise a bit, really likes being with Len. He’s funny and charming and strong and sometimes mean and okay Barry actually kind of likes that mean-streak if he’s being fully honest, it’s refreshing and makes him feel more safe to be himself, more humble and down to earth, not like he has to constantly be the perfect golden boy on a pedestal but is allowed to be human.

Being with Len is good for him, and Barry doesn’t want to give that up. Which is a startling revelation to him when Iris kisses him and he kisses her back then immediately goes into a weird spiral because - are he and Len even exclusive? They never talked about it. What is he even doing? He can’t build a life with Len - can he? Holy crap he wants to build a life with Len. But Iris - what about Iris? He still wants to build a life with her. He and Len have never talked about Iris, not really, except skirting the topic, and Barry knows he’s never been subtle about his feelings for her but -

Iris is. Confused. Barry never fully confided what’s going on with Len to her. He hinted at some scandalous liasons, maybe, but she had no clue Barry was in any sort of situation that she might be interrupting. Barry is terrible at divulging his secrets or telling his friends and family anything, we know this. 

Barry is an idiot (love him to death) and decides that Len is somehow the right person to confide in with his struggles. Len is. Shaking his head. Barry wtf. Go be with Iris. You love her, I’m not an idiot, I knew this would end. Barry like - screw you, aren’t you supposed to be a greedy thief and demand to keep me? Len like - wait you want me to... steal you? Like a brick of gold? Barry throwing his arms in the air like I don’t know I just don’t want to lose you!

Len suddenly confronted by the fact that Barry has real, grown-up feelings for him and not just a bit of puppy love, that he’s actually considering staying with Len and losing out on his chance to be with Iris. Which is a bit arresting because - that’s a lot of love and depth, and it’s suddenly there on display with all the despair etched into Barry’s face at the prospect of giving up Len and since when did Barry fall in love with him holy shit holy shit holy shit -

And like - Len is a greedy thief, okay. And he’s mean. He wants to keep Barry. He gets to keep Barry? He’s going to keep Barry. He doesn’t expect it to last because it’s Barry and Barry is Good and Right and Deserves to Be with Iris. But Len is Mean and Greedy and Fights Dirty. (len’s perception, obvy). So he tells Barry he won’t make him choose, but also gets all sexy-possessive (it’s one of my favourite things, okay, just allow it) and makes sure to remind Barry of all the enjoyment he gets from being with Len.

But being the instigating little shit that he is, he also encourages Barry to talk to Iris, to even take her on a date, to see if he can get from her what he gets from him. why? why play with fire? because len plays to win and he’s not going to be satisfied if barry regrets his choice and leaves him in a year over iris. he wants all of barry now that he’s got the option, dammit.

So a very conflicted Barry takes Iris out. Kisses her. Gets all heart-beating confused and delighted and everything. Things get a bit hot and heavy and then he stops and has to talk because this is great but he feels guilty as hell and part of that guilt is because yes okay Len said this is fine but is it really and what does Barry want and okay Iris totally has a right to know where his head is at.

So Barry opens up to Iris about the situation and she’s like “relationship? huh? but - he’s a thief, I don’t - you’re the flash - how does - huh?” quite understandably I would say, because last time she met Len, he was threatening to blow her up in her own livingroom. It wasn’t a great first impression. sure barry hinted at some ~liasons~ with someone and maybe she suspected it was cold but this is so much beyond that.

So she takes it on herself to at least make sure this guy has good intentions for Barry because whatever the situation, she still loves and cares for Barry and if he’s in over his head with this antagonist and is being taken advantage of, it’s her duty as his friend to help make sure he’s okay. (And also - Barry wants to be with her. he said as much. he isn’t shy about being in love with her. so why the hell is he still hung up on this guy?)

And Len is... weird. Okay. He’s weird. She goes to talk to him and he’s speaking in riddles and double-speak and innuendo. So much innuendo. Why? Puns all the way up, all the way down. And they argue and it’s... electric. Like shockingly electric. It gets to like them standing chest to chest breathing heavy and hissing invective at one another before they realize - oh. Oh this is tension, this is chemistry. This is dangerous.

Nothing happens. They back off as one. Recalibrate. Try to sort their heads around ‘what the hell was that’. Len tells Barry that Iris visited him. Barry confronts Iris. Iris tells him she was legit worried, and Barry decides they all need to sit down together so he can more legitimately smooth over Iris’s actually-quite-reasonable fears and maybe like... sort out what he wants.

but obviously what he wants is to have his cake and eat it too. because he’s always been in love with her but now he’s also in love with him, and either way he wins and he loses and that is a very painful and difficult situation to be in and maybe len never should have encouraged him to pursue this because what a goddamn mess his heart is now.

and from there, naturally the next thing to do is to conclude the narrative in a satisfying way and get the three of them together. both len and iris comforting a distraught barry on instinct, looking at each other and pausing, then continuing because “this is my job” “no it’s mine”. like a game of chicken comforting him and challenging each other, raised eyebrows and “your move” looks until they’re kind of very tenderly seducing barry and it’s delightfully overwhelming to him. it’s soft (softer than how i’d usually write smut tbh) because the focus is on these very intense and overpowering emotions and this deep (healthy!) possessiveness born out of love from all three of them. 

and because i’m a sucker for it there’s got to be this pivotal moment where len and iris kiss. like len and iris are peppering barry with kisses, stealing his lips, taking turns doing that as they undress him (they work so well in tandem, gee what a surprise), and then he leans back a bit as they move to trade his mouth off again and his eyes are half-lidded but the desire is plain as day so iris and len have a moment of silent negotiation and then they kiss and -

oh. oh, that is more than just electric. it’s something special. deep, powerful, undeniable.

so of course really fantastic sex is had by all, because this is fanfiction and sex is never awkward and no one accidentally falls off the bed (except that would be super funny and i’d probably write it that way just because). and barry is delighted and blissed out af. and iris and len’s fingers intertwine over barry’s stomach as they lay on either side of him, and it’s beautiful and offers a promise of what’s to come.

i’d keep that end short rather than do the whole relationship negotiation but honestly knowing me, i’d actually end up incidentally dragging it out more and adding in more of that relationship negotiation dynamic before they got to the end because i can’t help it.

But uhm. To answer your question: Yes. Yes I do think the scenario is possible.

[ggukcangetit]

Dreamcatchers 6

Pairing: jungkook x oc

Summary: DI Jeon didn’t need a new partner. Unfortunately, his superiors felt otherwise; especially considering the extremely high-profile murder that had just taken place in the port city. Recent transfer, DI Choi Yuri finds herself confronted with a new cityscape, unfamiliar people, a hostile partner, and a homicide that is certain to bring back unpleasant memories.  

Genre/AU: fluff/action/mystery | detective! au | police!jungkook, police!oc

Word Count: 5.2k

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: mentions of violence, alcohol, blood, drugs, death. basically stuff you’d associate with a murder mystery/crime drama.

Chapters 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 

A/N:  it’s been a while since i posted and even longer since i updated this fic but its still here and so am i! lol. updates are not gonna be very frequent but i have a list of works in progress that i plan to finish so there will be something or the other being posted at the most random moments.

also, reminding everyone that this story features a named oc because i’m still very unfamiliar with writing second person reader inserts. i’m not aiming for strict accuracy in this story, and all criminal investigation/forensics knowledge i have has been gathered by watching crime drama/procedural dramas! my knowledge of geography is also not totally accurate so apologies for that. once again, one thing right by @hobios​ prompted me to write a police inspector! jungkook story. would highly recommend reading that because it’s probably one of my most favorite pieces of writing!

21st December

"Is this how you conduct a sample analysis?! Where did you even train? I've half a mind to report you and get you kicked out!!"

Yuri stopped at her desk, surprised to hear Seulgi's yelling so loudly that she could be heard all the way from the floor above. She was usually extremely calm and even-tempered, but the past couple of days had seen her irritable, snappy, and downright furious.

"Dr. Ahn sounds really angry," whispered Jisoo, clutching a file close to her chest. "I've never heard her yell at anybody before. I hope she's okay."

"I'm sure everything's fine," said Jeon, walking over to his desk and dropping a bunch of files on it. "Can I talk to you for a second?"

Yuri raised an eyebrow at him, but complied nonetheless. They walked outside, standing near a clump of trees outside of earshot of anyone in the station.

"Guess who I've just brought in on suspicion of murder for the 2nd Nov case?" he asked, lowering his voice.

"No!" gasped Yuri. "Minhyuk?"

"Yep. He's been in the country for a while now. Fancy giving me a hand with the interview?"

"Me? I mean," she bit her lip. "I wasn't part of the original investigation."

"I know, but in light of what you've found out and the fact that you're now my partner, Goh thinks it's okay."

"You told Goh?!"

"I had to. I can't restart the investigation without his permission."

Jeon stared at her for a few moments, trying to gauge her reaction. "So, what do you say?"

"Alright. Let's nail this bastard."

Ahreum was late. She had a meeting with one of her professors to decide on which medical stream she'd specialize in. Despite using forensics as an excuse to distract Seulgi, she was seriously considering it now. Deciding to pursue medicine had been a drastic career switch for Ahreum, and a lot of people had questioned her decision relentlessly. But if there was something she had learnt in the years following her parents' divorce, it was patience and the ability to block out irrelevant conversations. Namjoon had always been immersed in his studies, barely affected by the bitterness existing between their parents. Ahreum, barely in high school, felt lost and helpless during those times. After the divorce, things had become less tumultuous and she was able to see her parents as individual entities. That was when she realized that her father was never going to like any of her decisions, no matter how hard she tried to please him, and her mother preferred to stay aloof at the best of times. Ahreum learnt pretty early in life, that she needed to be there for herself. She loved her brother and parents, though the latter a lot less than the former. Her decision to study English Literature and Creative Writing had been a spur of the moment one - dictated more by the fact that her high school boyfriend was going to study at a major Arts university. She didn't really regret any of her decisions. Her degree had led her to finding a hobby she adored - photography. And having a freelance job meant that she could stay with Namjoon - who earned a significantly larger amount than her - and move whenever he needed to move as well. This was also how she had met Taehyung 3 years ago - a happy coincidence of events when she had been taking pictures outside the museum at Seoul. They had started talking about art and photography, eventually realizing that they lived in the same part of the city. In addition to Yuri, she also considered Taehyung to be her best friend. She had seen him during one of his lowest moments when Seokjin had left home; and then some time later when he had found Seokjin living in the town Ahreum and Namjoon had recently shifted to, she had stayed by him as he grappled with his anger and frustration towards his older brother until an eventual reconciliation.

But at this moment, she was beginning to lose patience with him. Five minutes before she was about to leave for her meeting, she received a bunch of frantic texts from him.

8.25 am

T: ahreum?? are u up??

T: jimins still in custody

T: im so worried

8.26 am

T: u there?

T: i want to visit him...

T: will u come with me?

8.27 am

T: hey

T: ???

T: i didnt sleep much so i dont wanna drive there

8.28 am

T: are u sleeping?

T: ???

He knew she had a meeting today. He knew how important the meeting was for her. She had spoken about it many times. Not for the first time, Ahreum wondered whether Taehyung cared about her beyond what directly concerned him. If it wasn't somehow relevant to him, he never seemed to remember much. It was a careless apathy that had hurt her during the beginning of their friendship, but she had accepted it as a part of him.

Her meeting was at 9 am and she usually needed 20 minutes to get there on her bike. She closed her eyes and mentally rehearsed the points she was going to bring up during her meeting. Her phone pinged once more, breaking her concentration.

8.30 am

T: hey

T: can u pick me up?

She frowned and shot a quick text before pocketing her phone and strapping on her helmet.

A: sorry have a meeting... talk later

As Ahreum sped through the narrow lanes, she was convinced that there was no way she was going to talk to Taehyung today. He would have to manage on his own for once.

Yuri and Jeon sat across from a very nervous Park Minhyuk, his bloodshot eyes indicating that he had been brought in after a rough night.

"Good morning." Jeon began the interview, his notes stacked neatly in front of him. "You were very hard to get a hold of, Mr. Park. Specifically because your company categorically states that you've been out of the country for business."

"I-" His face was white as a sheet.

"When we called your office, we were told that you are often out of the country on business trips. Short trips," Jeon flipped through his notes. "A fortnight, 20 days at max. Your secretary was very obliging - he told us that you traveled on October 12th and returned on October 27th. Then left the country again on November 1st and returned on November 16th. Another trip between November 22nd and December 6th. And finally, one more on December 10th from which you still haven't returned."

"Your phone records are very interesting, Mr. Park," said Yuri, joining in. "I'm DI Choi, by the way, and I will be assisting DI Jeon as his partner on the case. Now -" she opened the file in front of her and took out a particular page - "is this your cell phone number?"

"Yes, but-"

"Our Telecomms division looked over recent activity over the last 3-4 months. While your office confirms that you have been on multiple trips out of the country from October onwards, your phone has been operating in Korea for almost two months. Can you tell us why?"

Minhyuk remained silent, his hands clenched on the table.

"Do you recognize this?" Yuri placed a plastic bag on the table and moved it towards him.

The remaining color drained from Minhyuk's face as he stared at the ring inside the plastic bag.

"Let me help you out, Mr. Park," she continued. "This is an heirloom from your mother's side of the family. There was three such rings - one buried with your mother, one on your brother's finger, and one found at the scene of Son Eunbi's murder. Can you tell us how your ring found its way to a murder scene?"

"I didn't kill her!" Minhyuk looked like he was going to pass out. Jeon poured some water into a glass and passed it to him.

"She was dead when I got there!" he said after gulping down the water. His hands were shaking by this point.

"If she was dead when you got there, why didn't you call the police?"

"I..."

Faced with a possible murder charge, Minhyuk looked frightened but not nearly as forthcoming with an alibi as one would have hoped.

"Mr. Park," Yuri spoke after a period of silence. "Did you know that Ms. Son had a three year old daughter named Gina?"

Minhyuk gulped, his eyes breaking contact with hers. He removed his hands from where they had been clenched on the table, choosing to hide them in his lap.

"Are you Gina's father?" she continued. Minhyuk head shot up at her question.

"H-how did-"

"When did you find out?" she asked.

Minhyuk sighed and rubbed his eyes tiredly. "I guess there's no point in denying it since you know everything." He reached out and finished the remaining water in the glass. "In October, after I came back from a trip, I happened to meet her by chance and Gina was with her. It was odd, the way that she tried to avoid talking to me. And the fact that Gina also had clear grey eyes."

For the first time since the interview started, Yuri realised the resemblance between the Park brothers was limited but striking. Their eyes were the exact same shade of grey - while Jimin looked cold and unwelcoming, Minhyuk's glasses did well to give him a warmer appearance.

"I asked her why she hadn't contacted me when she got pregnant. Or in the three years since Gina was born."

"What did she say?" asked Yuri, softly.

"She was scared that I wouldn't believe her." Tears had started to roll down his cheeks. "I loved her... so much. And then she just disappeared one day. I tried so hard to find her but..."

Jeon poured another glass of water for him.

"I told her how happy I was to hear about Gina. That I wanted us to be a proper family. I was willing to do whatever was necessary if that's what she wanted as well. I think she was beginning to warm up to the idea. I even told my father to postpone my next trip so that I could spend a little more time with both of them. But-"

"But?"

Minhyuk stared at his hands, looking tired and dejected. "He - uh, he wasn't happy when he heard about Gina. My father has very particular expectations."

"What did he say to you? Did he threaten you, Mr. Park?"

Minhyuk let out a soft chuckle. "My father doesn't threaten. He suggests."

"And what did he suggest you do about Gina and Eunbi?" asked Jeon.

"That I stay away from them. For the sake of my inheritance."

"And did you?"

"I was planning to... I-I was meant to travel the next day and I thought I would go and see her once more before I left. But when I got there..."

Minhyuk covered his face with his hands, taking deep breaths to try and calm himself.

"What happened when you got there, Mr. Park?"

"She was lying there... in a pool of blood. Gina was asleep in the back. I-I didn't kill her. You have to believe me."

Yuri and Jeon exchanged a quick look as Minhyuk protested his innocence. They were aware that the homeless man had killed Son Eunbi. The DNA found at the crime scene confirmed the fact that he had stabbed her. But they needed Minhyuk to give them as much information as possible.

"I'm afraid we do not conduct our investigations based on belief, Mr. Park," continued Yuri, shuffling her notes meaningfully. "You still haven't provided us with an alibi for that night. Strange thing - the Park family seem to have a particular aversion towards providing alibis. Your brother was also extremely resistant when we spoke to him."

"You spoke to Jimin? What for?" Minhyuk's expression had changed completely. He looked strangely alert.

"I guess you aren't aware that Jimin was arrested for the murder of Kang Eunwoo on December 15th." Jeon spoke deliberately, hoping to elicit a reaction. And he was successful.

"What?! That's impossible! There's no way he could've done that!"

"Why are you so certain of that?"

"Because he was with me on December 15th!"

"I'm sorry but we can't take you at your word. You can't even provide a proper alibi for yourself on the night of Son Eunbi's murder. How can we be sure that the two of you aren't just covering up for each other?"

It was then that Minhyuk realised that he would need to come clean. There was no way to save Jimin without telling them the entire story.

"Fine," he sighed. "I'll tell you everything."

"Everything?"

"Yes. If it can help Jimin, I'm willing to risk my father finding out."

Yuri glanced at Jeon who gave her an almost imperceptible nod.

"Go on."

"After I saw Eunbi... lying there, I couldn't leave Gina. No matter what my father had said, I couldn't leave my daughter in such a situation. So I... took her away with me."

"Where is Gina now, Mr. Park?" Yuri asked, frowning.

"She's safe."

"Where is she?" asked Jeon, sharply.

"In Busan. I have an apartment there and she's been with me since that day."

"Why didn't you tell the police that you had her? Why does your company believe that you are abroad on a business trip?"

Minhyuk rubbed his eyes tiredly and drank some more water. "I couldn't let my father find out. Jimin and I have an apartment in Busan that we bought under a different name. It was a place our father couldn't find us. Gina's been staying there with me since 2nd November."

"Are you sure your father thinks you're abroad? It doesn't seem like something easy to cover up."

"Jimin helped with that," said Minhyuk, leaning back into the cold metal chair. "He told father that I had run away because he hadn't been understanding of my situation with Gina and Eunbi. Jimin's good at convincing people - it's a talent he's barely ever put to good use."

"So Jimin knew that you were hiding in a secret apartment with your recently discovered daughter?"

"Yes, he did. I have an alibi for 2nd November. I was in a meeting till 9 pm and then stopped for drinks at a nearby fried chicken place till 11 pm. I was a bit tipsy after that, which is why I decided to visit Eunbi and Gina. After taking Gina away from there, I went to Jimin's place, got the keys to the apartment and drove straight there. I think I reached around 2 am."

Yuri jotted down all this information, making a note to check on every new detail that had been mentioned.

"What about December 15th? You said Jimin was with you. Why?" asked Jeon, folding his arms across his chest.

"We meet once a week to make sure everything is going okay," said Minhyuk, pinching the bridge of his nose tiredly. "Sundays are usually the best days for that."

"Where did you meet?"

"At the local ice-cream shop," Minhyuk frowned, trying to remember something. "You know the one near the end of town?"

"The Dairy Berry? Yes, I know which one you're talking about." Jeon gave Yuri a brief nod to confirm that this was a legitimate spot and not something Minhyuk was making up on the spot.

"Gina loves sweet things and I thought it would be easier to take her with me the same day I met Jimin. I think we were there till 10 pm. After that, I dropped Jimin at a bar and drove back home."

"Which bar was this?" asked Yuri.

"Sunset."

"And you drove straight home after that?"

"You can check the dash cam on my car and the security tapes at my apartment building, if you want."

"We definitely will, Mr. Park," said Jeon, surveying him carefully. "In the meantime, you will be in custody until we have verified each and every single thing you just told us. So I suggest you keep yourself hydrated."

Yuri could feel a pair of eyes on her as she spoke to Jisoo and Suho.

"We need to verify everything that Park Minhyuk told us. But there's a lot of ground to cover and we've lost quite a bit of time since the murder of Son Eunbi. So I suggest you recruit some uniformed officers as well." Jisoo jotted down the locations and the times they needed to verify, and nodded to Suho to indicate she had forwarded the details to him. "We need to get the information as soon as possible."

"Will do," said Suho, giving her a reassuring nod.

Yuri waited for them to leave before walking over to the person who had been watching her for a while.

"Did you want to talk about something?" she asked Seulgi.

"I-" Seulgi tugged at her sleek, high ponytail, looking oddly hesitant. She seemed in a better mood than earlier in the morning when she had almost scared one of the interns into leaving the country. "Do you have a minute?"

"Yeah- " Yuri checked the clock on her phone - "just a minute though. I'm waiting for Jeon to get a warrant from Goh."

"Did he-? I mean, Jimin, uh... have you...? You know-" It was strange to see her grappling for words. "Are you certain he's done it?"

Yuri stared at her for a second. This wasn't what she had been expecting Seulgi to talk about. The doctor's relationship with Jimin was even more puzzling than she had originally perceived it.

"We're looking into it right now." She paused, trying to gauge Seulgi's reaction. "But you already know about the blood sample match - that, in itself, is pretty damaging."

"Y-yeah, I know."

Before Yuri could say anything more, Jeon came out of the Chief Inspector's office. "We've got a warrant to search Minhyuk's apartment. Let's go."

Glancing one more time at Seulgi's ashen face, Yuri put on her coat and scarf and followed Jeon out the exit.

Once inside Jeon's car, Yuri debated whether or not she should attempt to engage him in conversation. Her decision was made for her when he drove onto the main road, and lowered the volume of the police scanner.

"What was Seulgi saying?" he asked, his eyes focused on the road.

"Just where we were in the investigation."

"I see."

Yuri fiddled with the button on her coat, itching to say more.

"What's the deal with her and Jimin?" she finally asked.

"I- what do you mean?" Jeon raised his eyebrow and gave her the most puzzled expression he could muster while trying to stay focused on the crazy traffic.

"Their relationship is... weird. He keeps flirting with her, and she is on the verge of ripping his guts out at every given moment. But just now, she seemed almost worried about him."

"I don't really know... they've never really seen eye-to-eye on much." Jeon checked the rear view mirror to make sure he was clear before deftly changing lanes. "Jimin has always been the person who tries his utmost to push everyone's buttons. And Seulgi... well, she has a lot of buttons."

Yuri snorted loudly. "That tells me nothing and everything at the same time. You really have a way with words, Jeon."

He smirked at this, his eyes never leaving the road. "So does that mean you trust me now?"

"No." She looked at him and caught the way his face fell slightly at her response. "But who knows what the future holds..."

The smirk was back.

Ahreum had a terrible headache. She usually didn't get many headaches. So on the rare occasion that she did, it put her in a really terrible mood. The only person who knew how to handle this situation properly was Namjoon. He knew that she needed silence, dim lighting, green tea, fresh bread, and absolutely no unexpected company.

So when Ahreum got home after her grueling 3 hour long meeting, hoping to relax and recuperate, she wasn't too pleased to find Taehyung sitting in her living room, playing a very loud game on his tablet.

"You're back!" he yelled, once she slammed the door to make her presence felt. "I've been waiting for hours. How was your meeting?"

"'S okay," she replied, shortly. Taking off her coat, she opened the middle cabinet in the kitchen and searched for the green tea.

"Great! So do you wanna go and visit Jimin now?"

"No."

"What? Why not? You don't have anything else to do right now. Just come with me. Please!" He had walked into the kitchen and was standing in front of her with a pout on his lips.

As endearing as she always found his antics, Ahreum was at breaking point. She placed the cup on the counter with a loud clink, and turned to face him.

"Because I don't have time to follow you on your every whim, Taehyung. Because I have a life of my own. Because I am studying medicine, which, if you aren't aware, is a very taxing occupation." She paused for a breath, as his mouth fell open in shock. "Because I am not your babysitter. Or your handler. Or your caretaker. And I'm tired of being responsible for you. You're a grown ass adult and it's about time you acted like one."

"Ahreum, I'm-" His eyes were wide and worried, and she felt a tiny sliver of remorse. "I don't think you're my babysitter or handler or whatever. You're my best friend."

"I thought so too. In fact," she said, looking away from him. "I thought we were, or we could be, more."

"W-what? Ahreum?" Taehyung sounded so lost and confused that she was tempted to console him.

She walked to the front door and held it open for him. "I think you should leave now. I'm tired, I have a headache, and I don't want to be around anyone right now."

"Wait! What did you mean by that?" he asked, hesitantly standing at the entrance.

"I'm tired, Taehyung. I don't have the energy to explain everything to you. Now, please," she began closing the door slowly. "I want to rest."

"It's clear!" The uniformed officer confirmed to them, before opening the door further.

"Okay, let's see whether little Gina is here," instructed Jeon, his face drawn into a frown.

Yuri nodded and walked into the room on the left of the large living area. It was a study of sorts, with a large wooden desk, a swiveling chair, and shelves upon shelves of books. She quickly checked to see if there was anyone in the room before shouting "clear!". There was another door connecting to a smaller room, it's walls bathed in bright sunlight and smelling of soft lavender. This was clearly some sort of guest room, judging by the inconsistent decor theme. The furniture looked sleek and modern, but the sheets on the bed were soft and pastel colored. A bunch of soft toys stood leaning against the flat screen tv, and Yuri realised that this was probably the room that had been hastily fixed up for a small child's unexpected stay. And sure enough, soft strands of brown hair peaked through the large covers on the bed.

She walked over to the bed slowly, not wanting to startle the child. Yuri barely managed to stifle a gasp as she looked into the child's clear grey eyes - the same color as both Park Minhyuk and Park Jimin.

"Hello," she said, softly. "Are you Gina?"

The little girl nodded, bringing the covers closer towards her.

"I'm a police officer. I help catch bad people." She didn't respond, staring at her with wide eyes.

"Do you want to go to your dad, Gina?" She nodded vigorously, sitting up at the mention of her father. "Okay, we will. But first, tell me, are you okay? Do you feel pain anywhere?"

The little girl shook her head.

"Are you sleepy?"

Again, she shook her head.

"Are you hungry?"

Slowly, she nodded her head.

"Okay, we'll go and see your dad, and also get you something to eat. Is that okay with you?"

"Yes."

"Wonderful."

It was just after 2 pm and Yuri felt completely drained. After they had found Gina, she had insisted on returning to the station to ask Jimin about his alibi for the night of Kang Eunwoo's murder. From what she had understood, he had refused to provide an alibi to protect his brother and keep him out of the police's radar until the situation with Gina worked out. Even though she still couldn't get herself to consider him a pleasant person, his desire to protect his brother had humanized him a great deal in her eyes.

Sure enough, once he was made aware that Minhyuk had come forward and spoken about his daughter and the events of the past month and a half, Jimin looked much less hostile than before.

"I was at Sunset from around 10.30 pm to closing time - which is 2 am," he said, sighing tiredly and rubbing his face with his hands. "You can confirm with them."

While Minhyuk and Jimin's alibis were verified, Yuri received a text from Namjoon, asking her and Jeon to meet him at Seokjin's bakery. It was barely a 2 minute drive there, so Jeon suggested they get lunch over there and make it before Goh finished compiling the list of paperwork for them to finish.

The smell of freshly baked milk bread wafted out of the kitchen, adding another layer of warmth to Seokjin's cozy shop. The man in question picked up the large tray filled with various different confections, and brought it over to the table by the window.

"Peach danish and americano for Namjoon, chocolate fudge brownie and vanilla bean ice cream for Jeongguk, and a snow croissant and hot chocolate for Yuri." He placed everything on the table, before grabbing his lukewarm cup of tea and sitting down with them.

"So you finally find the child, then?" asked Seokjin, sipping the tea. He made a face at the odd taste that tea acquires when it's between comfortingly steamy and soothingly chilled.

"Yeah we did," Yuri replied, when her partner remained silent. "Goh is dealing with Minhyuk and the custody charges. It's no longer in our jurisdiction."

"Namjoon, how's grad school treating you?" Seokjin diverted the conversation, realising that his friend wasn't ready to talk about the case at that moment. "How much longer do you have?"

"A few more months and I should be done." Namjoon wiped the pastry flakes from the corner of his mouth and nearly tipped over his americano in the process. Yuri chuckled at this, suddenly remembering those random moments in high school where Namjoon was a lot thinner and less confident, but still had a propensity for knocking things over.

"Remind me why you're putting yourself through this?" Seokjin broke off a piece of the peach danish and popped it into his mouth.

"The last time I tried to explain that, you spaced out and created a new pastry recipe for your menu. As much as I like helping your business flourish, I'm gonna preserve my energy and only talk about things when necessary."

Seokjin chuckled and picked up a spoon from the dispenser. "Jeongguk, can I get a bit of ice cream from you?" There was no response, and looking at him for confirmation Seokjin's eyebrows shot up in alarm.

"Okay okay, I won't eat any of your ice cream. You don't have to tear up about it!"

Yuri and Namjoon turned towards him as well, not sure what to do when they saw tears slowly sliding down Jeongguk's cheeks.

"Are you okay? What's wrong?" asked Namjoon, patting his shoulder softly.

They sat in silence, as Jeongguk sobbed softly and wiped his face with his coat sleeve. He turned towards Yuri, his eyes glazed with tears but holding a soft radiance unlike what she was used to.

"Thank you."

Yuri felt her face heat up suddenly. This wasn't what she had been expecting. The soft sincerity in his voice startled her. It was nothing like the person she had met only a week ago. She looked away abruptly and nodded her head.

"There's nothing to thank me for. This is our job."

Jeongguk smiled and resumed eating the disgustingly sweet dessert combination in front of him. He nudged Seokjin to take some ice cream like he had originally intended. There was silence once more, but this time, it was very different.

Back at the station, Yuri finished the paperwork for the day. There was a lot to complete, and since they had stopped at Seokjin's for a break, they had lost some time as well. Goh had been very clear about completing all the paperwork for social services to take over the case from them now that Gina had been found.

It was barely even 5 pm but Yuri felt a large yawn coming on for the third time in the past few minutes. She wasn't sure how long she would be able to carry on without getting proper sleep at night. At this rate, she would eventually burn out. There was only so much coffee could do for her.

A light tap brought her attention to another person standing in her cubicle. She looked up to see Jeon holding two steaming cups of ramen, tilting his head slightly to confirm whether it was okay for him to sit down.

"Did you need anything?" she asked, after moving her slightly. He placed the ramen on her desk and pulled up his own chair and sat down.

"I've got a peace offering," he gestured to the ramen. "I wanted to apologize properly for being an absolute dickhead to you. I-" He hesitated, looking down at his hands that lay clenched on his lap - "I don't really have an excuse for my behavior but I had a lot on my mind. Particularly about finding the little girl. And, well... you really don't know what solving this case means to me."

Once again, Yuri wasn't sure how to react. She felt embarrassed that he was thanking her for doing her job - something that he did as well. While she appreciated his apology, his entire being remained confusing to her.

"Don't worry about it," she said, waving her hand dismissively. "And thanks for the ramen; food is always appreciated."

Thankfully, her computer ping-ed with a new email before the atmosphere could get any more awkward.

"Okay, we've confirmed Minhyuk's alibi's for 2nd November and 15th December. He wasn't involved in either murder. Jimin was with Minhyuk till 10.15 pm on 15th December - his car's dash cam confirms that he dropped Jimin off at Sunset bar around that time."

"Fantastic! And what about the CCTV footage at Sunset? Does it confirm Jimin's story? He said he was there till 2 am."

"Hang on, I'm opening the report. Th-" she stopped abruptly, frowning at the screen.

"What?" asked Jeon, looking over her shoulder to read the email.

"CCTV footage does not place Jimin at Sunset from 10.15 pm till closing time at 2 in the morning. He doesn't have an alibi for Eunwoo's murder."

She turned to look at him, an odd sense of foreboding hitting her as she realized that they would have to charge Jimin for murder by the next evening. He held her gaze, his dark eyes reflecting a similar shadow of doubt.

please reblog and leave a comment if you liked this part! thank you! 😊 

[volkswagonblues]

I wish you would write a fic about piandao and jeong jeong, like just anything about them but i'd read the SHIT out of the modern au you told me about where they bicker about politics

SO. This is the WORST time to be writing 1.5k of fiction about a modern (well, 90′s) AU starring two dudes who have never even spoken to each other in canon, but uh, the world is awful and I consider creating rarepair content a form of self-care, so here we go.

The context for this is of course, JJ is second-generation Korean-American from LA, Piandao is a foreign student from Taiwan pursuing a doctorate in the US. The year is 1993 and ideas about race, activism, the term “Asian-American” are all up in the air. We are one year post the ‘92 L.A. race riots and four years away from antiretroviral therapy becoming the new treatment standard for HIV. The AIDS crisis is in full swing, as it has been since the 80′s. Welcome to America.

--

“Jujube”

The week after his appendectomy, Piandao is up and moving around by the end of the third day, a full four days ahead of schedule. His shoulder aches, the scar on his stomach hurts, but still, he is up and moving, even though Jeong Jeong rolls his eyes when he catches him walking up and down the length of his bedroom, working the muscles that are suffering more from being bed-bound than from surgery. 

Jeong Jeong, underneath the surly exterior, is a surprisingly maternal caretaker. Piandao has no appetite for anything flavourful in the first few days, which the nurses said was normal. So for every meal since he’s back from the hospital, Jeong Jeong cooks him a bowl of porridge and does it with a degree of care that Piandao honestly did not know he possessed. Piandao wouldn’t have minded just plain white rice and water, but Jeong Jeong, in his typical Jeong Jeong-fashion, disagreed. He spends a long time in Piandao’s kitchen every morning, making what he claims is the superior (ie, Korean) juk that his mother makes, but is really exactly similar to the zhou Piandao is used to back home, only it’s made by an angry Korean man swearing at the morning cable news, taking only occasional breaks to bemoan the sad state of Asian grocery stores in Midwest college towns.

“I’m feeling well enough to cook,” Piandao says on the morning of his fourth day home. “JJ, relax. You don’t have to do everything around here.”

Jeong Jeong looks up from his work: crushing sesame seeds in a plastic bag with the back of a soup spoon. “Shut the fuck up,” he says easily.

“I can at least wash the dishes—“

“I’m not talking to you, I’m talking to Bill Ritter.”

Piandao looks at the television in the corner. A news show was on, some Sunday morning thing he doesn’t remember seeing before. Currently, it was showing them three glossy-looking American hosts sitting on glossy-looking American couches. A man in a beige suit was saying something very earnest about the President and Haiti and also taxes. Piandao guesses that he’s Bill Ritter.

“Fucking Clinton already retracting on his fucking word,” Jeong Jeong mutters, then smashes the spoon down with ferocious force; in their plastic bag, the sesame seeds die and ascend to paste in an instant.

Piandao bites back a smile. He switches the channel: ads now, more glossy Americans driving glossy American cars, big and square. The ad changes: a family of four arriving at a motel, everything even bigger and squarer than the previous one. The mother in a big square jacket; the father smile with big square teeth. The kids chatter in excited tones: We’re so happy to be at Holiday Inn Express! Then Piandao hits the off button, and the American family disappears; the screen puckers up into dark silence again.

He slowly feels his way into the kitchen instead. He rather watch Jeong Jeong cook.

On the stove, the porridge bubbles. Jeong Jeong adds the pounded sesame and gives it a stir, then adds more sugar, then milk. He ladles it into two bowls and brings it over to the kitchen table, which is also the living room table, which is also Piandao’s desk where he grades students’ lab reports and corrects exams. There were a few back issues of various astrophysics journals still stacked there; Jeong Jeong puts them to use as coasters. Volume 10, issue 4 of Space Science Review goes to Piandao’s bowl; the special Winter 1992 edition of Annual Review of Astronomy and Astrophysics to Jeong Jeong. Piandao, trailing behind him, brings the spoons. They sit down, knees almost touching.

“How is it?” asks Jeong Jeong.

Piandao blows on his spoon and takes in a mouthful. “Not bad,” he says. “Although it’ll be better with some – I don’t know the word – but those little red fruits.”

“Jujubes,” says Jeong Jeong, and then: “Fuck off, be grateful for what you’ve got. You know how long it took me to even locate some sesame seeds in a Salt Lake City grocery store?”

Sunday morning slants in from between the slats of the crooked window blinds. In the sharp angle of the light, his features look different: the sun picks out the bronze-ish tint in his dark hair, makes the shell of his ear glow pink and red. In front of him, the steam from the porridge unfurls in delicate, thin grey spirals.

Piandao put his spoon down. “I’m glad you’re here,” he says. “You really didn’t have to. The plane ticket from Los Angeles must have been expensive.”

A shrug. “Couldn’t let you die alone in Utah, of all places.”

“It was just an appendectomy. How much did you pay for the flight? I can…I can pay you back, the university gives me a stipend, I can afford it.”

Jeong Jeong sets his spoon down too, picks up the bowls and takes them over to rinse in the sink.

“When I got the call from the secretary,” he says, not looking up from the dish sponge. “She didn’t say what happened. She just said, please can you be informed that Mr. Liu has been taken to the hospital for a medical emergency, she had just gone down the list of his emergency contact numbers and you happened to be the first one who picked up, and then she hung up. I barely got the name of the hospital out of her before she did. Nothing more. I called back and got a busy line. And then I thought – I started thinking – I didn’t know what I was thinking. I got scared. I just came back from SF that day – I went to see Johnny and Gene at the General, and when I got back in and the phone rang and the woman said you were sick too…I don’t know.”

The bowls, scrubbed to death, are getting beyond clean. Jeong Jeong throws the sponge down, where it lands with a wet smack.

“I know you’re not like me,“ he adds wretchedly. “I mean, I know you’re not a homosexual. And besides: fucking Utah? Of all places? I knew it was probably nothing.”

“It’s not nothing,” Piandao says.

Jeong Jeong stabs a finger in his direction. “But don’t you dare pay me back though. Don’t you even try that shit on me. I will actually punch you if you try.”

Piandao says nothing. He pictures the cramped kitchenette of Jeong Jeong’s apartment off Hoover Street, with its ugly green plastic phone duct-taped to the wall, opposite to the grimy stove and the eternal stacks of takeout containers and the Proud Berkley Grad of ’87 fridge magnet that Piandao had bought him as a joke, when Jeong Jeong finally carried through on his threats and really dropped out, for good this time. He pictures Jeong Jeong stumbling back in fron the hospital, exhausted, and then accepting a long-distance call from Utah anyways.

Jeong Jeong had taken the call and flew out the very next morning. He had came in such a hurry that he brought nothing with him other than the clothes he was wearing and a backpack full of California oranges, because he had some idea that vitamin C was vital to every patient’s recovery, no matter the ailment. He had come to Piandao.

Times like this, Piandao wishes his English is better. Even now, after five years in this country, he has no way to express how he feels, right now, standing in the doorway of his kitchen while Jeong Jeong slams dishes and utensils back into their drawers, shoulders hunched over. Something hot and formless is coursing through his chest, but Piandao can’t shape it. He can’t forge the thing into words.

Perhaps there’s no words at all for this in English. Not in Chinese, either, and not in Korean. There are no words for this in any language in the world.

So Piandao reaches out instead. He touches a hand to the curve of Jeong Jeong’s back, and when Jeong Jeong looks over, questioning, he clears his throat and says:

“I liked it. The zhou.”

“You mean juk,” Jeong Jeong corrects him, as contrary as ever.

“Alright, the juk. It was very good.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“You’re not shitting me?”

“No. I should call your mother, tell her what a good chef her son is becoming.”

“Fuck off,” Jeong Jeong says, but he smiles anyways.

Piandao smiles back. His hand is still where he put it, resting on Jeong Jeong’s back, and he does not move it away. This, also – this is an unspoken message, but not for forever. Already Piandao can see the shape of it in his future. Something was unfurling between them, as delicate as steam, as marvellous as light.

[zuzuslastbraincell]

fun world-building facts about the eyeliner incident:

so the main canon divergence is that roku killed sozin, instead of just chilling in his cottage for ~50 years. he ended up leading a coalition force against him, in prep for civil war, although was able to bait him out to an erupting volcano and kill him at the age of 40 or 50 or so. roku then lived for another 100 years (hardly out of character for an avatar to do so).

roku went further, though, and after killing sozin, declared there would be no more fire lords in the avatar state. this split the fire nation into monarchists and anti-monarchists, essentially, and there was still a fair bit of civil unrest/war after sozin’s death because not everyone agreed.

a lot of monarchists ran off to the colonies after sozin was killed, to protect their assets, to protect their lives, as a place to hide out until the storm blew over (it did not blow over) and to regroup for a next assault (which did not succeed).

this was fine, until a second phase: roku wanted to give the radicals in his coalition a leading voice in the next government to be. a lot of people disagreed. in the colonies (many of which had officially been handed back to the earth kingdom), there were riots, lots of dissent, etc. amongst fire nationals.

when the north western earth kingdom became the site of resistance against radicals in the fire nation (as roku’s opposition to sozin was based on a coalition of liberal nobles and bureaucrats & emerging radical workers syndicates), a lot of monarchists & ultranationalists ended up emigrating with the initial wave of noble émigrés, and eventually, some of the more liberal nobles supporting roku turned against them as well. (this is also how roku’s youngest daughter, rina, who was married off to a sozin loyalist in a hostage situation organised by sozin, ends up in the earth kingdom - she and her husband defect, and initially support roku, but seeing the radicals that he is genuinely helping and supporting, they move to the earth kingdom). the reputation of this second wave depends on province - ex-soldiers are always hated, and the north west & regions in close proximity despise the fire nation, but the east & ba sing se has always been quite hospitable, & many have dual bases in ba sing se and the northwest. the ba sing se nobility, over time, mingle more and more with high profile fire nation émigrés who have property.

fire nationals in the earth kingdom are thus culturally different, usually, to fire nation citizens in the modern fire nation. more likely to be monarchists, more likely to hold sympathetic sentiment to azulon etc. (though most agree - publically - that sozin went too far, even if they think azulon should have his crown in private), and a lot of their styles of fashion, music, art, dance etc. is based on a lot of “antiquated” “old fashioned” fire nation traditions with some earth kingdom ideas mixed in. to fire nation residents, they just look at least 80 years out of date.

fire nation descendants in the earth kingdom are more likely to be involved with particular organised crime syndicates (the triads, as opposed to ones with other names). this is because after the war ended abruptly with sozin’s death, a lot ex-mercenaries and ex-soldiers stationed in the colonies/northwest began to find work/business through protection racketeering (in absence of organised govt. in the north-western earth kingdom). even in the modern day, the north west has problems with corruption, control, and is economically quite deprived despite having massive resources and that’s an after-effect of colonialism and attempts by the national government to ‘penalise’ the officials in that region for colluding with fire nation nationals/ex-colonists (very exasperating for genuine earth kingdom officials, and earth kingdom locals). roku did try and help the region but he’s generally disliked for lots of reasons & was trying to stop the fire nation from collapsing after supporting the radicals (a controversial decision!) and facing counter-revolutionary violence. i think roku felt like he neglected the fire nation for the earth kingdom in his youth and that’s why sozin was able to get as far as he did, so i think he made the very difficult decision to prioritise trying to sort out the fire nation. hence why yu dao is in a bit of a state. i imagine yu dao (republic city) is a big buzzing city but has those same problems with organised crime we see in lok.

the sozin dynasty, as azulon & his descendants are called, aren’t an exception to this involvement in organised crime. a lot of people were actually quite sympathetic to a young azulon after his father was killed at around the age of fifty or so, including fire nationals in the earth kingdom, but also the nobility in the earth kingdom, themselves staunch monarchists, who saw sozin as the problem and not the system of monarchy itself. all of this allowed azulon & his family to flee the caldera & manage to transfer a number of their assets with relative ease; they were never penniless, despite the sob story you might here.

azulon set up links with local businesses who were run by sympathisers, as well as organised crime syndicates, and through wise purchases, good advisors, & some savvy of his own, shifted from aristocracy to bourgeoisie with relative ease, & bought/negotiated their place at the negotiating table, to eventually come to be considered the lead stakeholder in those crime syndicates (with enough distance, though, as not to be suspicious). very much saved his name from being a laughing stock through his own ability there, but if you’d hear the story told, people who say that folks were deferential to him in part because of his lineage (sometimes, but not always true - the revolution had caused people to doubt).

regarding his sons, iroh had far more involved in organised crime and illegitimate business than ozai, who essentially looked after the more boring legitimate side of things (but took that role seriously and expanded it beyond being a simple front). iroh actually had a worse reputation up until azulon died, and was just considered a very competent but cut-throat political/business leader/general player with a lot of very very shady links that couldn’t quite be proven, but also like, was famously quite charming and well-liked in the high society ba sing se network. like, i want to be honest to show iroh here - he was bad! in the show, he was a war criminal! i mentioned he was a war profiteer (largely because ‘war criminal’ doesn’t make as much sense imo), and that was almost definitely regarding civil wars/coups that have been attempted in the fire nation & earth kingdom. this stopped when lu ten ended up being shot in the crossfire during a turf war and rather than pursuing a violent vendetta, iroh stepped out of the spotlight and let ozai take over the reigns more.

anyway, after zuko was burned for attempting to stand up to ozai, iroh basically faked his own death and completely ditched anything left of what he’d spent his life building in order to whisk zuko away and invent new identities for themselves in the fire nation (ironically) where they worked as tea shop workers (yes. li and mushi, still canon). i don’t think they live in the caldera, since cameras/photos mean it’s easier to be tracked, and zuko probably lives somewhere quiet-ish like ember island. zuko has a decent adolescence, considering, after he’s estranged. no “find the avatar” in this universe, for fairly obvious reasons.

i’m not an expert in organised crime by any means but hopefully this all makes sense. a lot of what azulon/iroh/ozai is doing, through the purchase of land, the control of business, the use of organised crime as an illicit form of govt. essentially is a form of colonisation, where the region is deprived due to fire nation business interests and in earth kingdom control in name only. corruption and close ties between ba sing se and fire nation émigrés mean that centralised govt is underfunding & turning a blind eye to it (which, in canon, ba sing se does, ‘no war in ba sing se’ etc.). most of the colonisation efforts are centred in the north-west, but azula is brought up in ba sing se given it’s far more reputable/prestigious, though she’s undoubtedly been to both places.

as for what’s happening in the fire nation, i feel like aesthetically it’s a little different - ba sing se is ancient buildings with sky trains, lots of urban sprawl & a very wide and endless city, whereas i imagine the caldera is a very tall city due to limited space available, more skyscrapers in the fire nation due to limits in islands. also, the fire nation has sea trains and submarine trains/tunnels, because. politically? haven’t quite decided but they’re some flavour of anarchist-communist (was reluctant to use that word in the fic itself because people have all kinds of interpretations of it, often very negative knee-jerk responses to it, but essentially: community-owned services and businesses and spaces instead of privately-owned ones, with egalitarian principles enshrined into the culture & identity now) over there if i’m honest, with lots of democratic councils. obviously i don’t think it’ll be perfect and i imagine ‘the national question’ is something that comes up a lot, with some difficulties between national & regional identity (imo the fire nation is very diverse, we see the sun warriors and then the sages who help korra in s2 are from different groups/cultures than the militaristic one that rose to prominence in the 100 year war and i hc a lot of that regional diversity was steamrolled for sozin’s imperialist project).

ANYWAY

there’s a reason i made this post on my main last week:

this is getting very long but hopefully this is some insight into what i’ve been thinking about when i made this AU

[heungtanbts]

Quarter Life Crisis

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre/warning: slow burn friends to lovers!au, friend zoning, being dense AF, swearing & sarcastic bantering, a smidge of angst, explicit implications of smut

word count: 25k 

A/N: guys. i’ve never written something this long and in depth before and i honestly don’t know how to feel about it. but i do know i have a newfound respect for fic writers. i poured so much time and effort into this, and can only imagine what other writers go through so please remember to show your fave writers love for all their hard work! 

In the movies, the recently graduated, mid-twenties protagonist sets off on the journey of life and seems to immediately land a fantastic job, find a stellar unit in an even more luxurious apartment complex, gets a fancy car with a name that’s impossible to pronounce, is in a long term relationship from college and is going to receive a proposal within the next few months (but doesn’t know it yet), and basically, has life all figured out. If movies are going to portray young adult life like that, then that’s ideally what your twenties should be like, right? Being young, educated, ready to take on the world, further discovering yourself and finding true love.

This, however, is not what you imagined your mid-twenties to be like.

Sitting in a comfy pair of capri leggings and an oversized college t-shirt, you sink into your sofa and suck in a labored breath. You really shouldn’t have finished that last bit of Shanghai fried noodles. T’was a mistake, a horrible mistake. Rolling down the waistband of your leggings, your belly pops out, set free, and you finally feel like you can breathe again.

“Wow, you’re really packin’ heat there, huh Pillsbury?” A low voice calls mockingly from across the room.

“Shut up, I’m proud of my life achievements okay.” You immediately retaliate, not even bothering to look at the other potato potato-ing at the opposite end of the sofa.

You hear him snort incredulously. “Ah yes, because ‘he who achieves the pudge, achieves in life.’ Definitely heard Yoda say that one somewhere.”

Letting your head lull to the side, you can’t stop yourself from snickering at the sight of Jungkook sitting criss-cross-apple-sauce, hands held up in OK signs, eyes shut and head bobbing from side to side ridiculously in what you deem to be an extremely inaccurate impersonation of Yoda. Why you continue to hang out with this dweeb and allow him to put his nasty feet up on your coffee table right after hitting the gym for two hours is beyond you. Must be because it’s Friday night, affectionately known as Fat Friday, and he’s always the one who brings take out, like it’s a peace offering of some sort. That’s why.

At this age you would’ve never imagined that life would consist of a weekly Fat Friday “take out and a movie” routine with your best friend from college. As a young adult, you know you’re fortunate to have a stable 8-5 job that you don’t hate, a clean and cozy apartment unit in the city (with in unit laundry machines, bless up) and a small group of friends that stand by you through thick and thin. But after spending so many days and years like this, you can’t help but question it all.

According to those damn rom-coms, you should be out going on adventures, mingling with new people, sipping on over-priced drinks, showing up to the club with your posse and, maybe if you’re lucky, waltzing out with a newly acquired friend for the night. But here you are instead, having a chopsticks war with Jungkook over the last crab rangoon Kung-fu Panda style, even though you’re so full, the delicious fried appetizer might just have to sit in your throat for a while until your digestive system can make room for it. Living in your twenties is wild, just absolutely wild.

“God, please don’t tell me you do this when you go on dates.” Jungkook looks at you in both disgust and awe as you pop the last crab rangoon in your mouth, chewing noisily on purpose to rub it in his face while simultaneously enjoying the crunch.

“What, eat?” A speck of crab escapes and lands on your chin. Now Jungkook definitely looks more grossed out than amazed as he reaches out to thumb at your chin, removing the bit of artificial seafood and making a face as he wipes it on a nearby napkin.

“No, this isn’t eating. This is straight up a clip from the Discovery Channel about predators swallowing their prey.” He deadpans. “It’s like you’re training to be a food fighter, or something.”

You suddenly look up, eyes beaming with enlightenment, “That’s it, a food fighter, of course! That’s what I should be pursuing in life! Jeon, for once, you and your one brain cell have managed to come up with a brilliant idea.”

Jungkook doesn’t even seem phased by your insult and just moves to make himself comfortable, kicking his feet up on the coffee table as per usual. “You know, I actually think you could do it. With the way you eat- no, inhale food, you could show the world your one and only talent – gluttony.” He grins victoriously only to have to whip his neck from side to side in order to avoid the used chopsticks you spear at him, the wooden sticks clattering onto the linoleum floor. You scowl openly from having missed, settling back onto the sofa with your arms crossed over your chest.

“I could start my own muk-bang stream.” You think aloud, seriously considering the occupation for a moment. “Look cute, eat ten packets of ramen, answer questions about my life from the millions of die-hard fans watching – I could totally live that life.”

Jungkook chuckles at the mental imagery he gets, “Yeah, and then majestically throw up for your two whole precious fans to witness. Real cute.” His lip quirks upwards, “Those two poor fans, scarred for life, never able to heal from the trauma.”

You glare at him. “Just wait until my boyfriend hears of this, he won’t stand for this kind of abuse you give me. Is this even friendship? Where’s the love? The support?” You clutch at your chest dramatically, “Where’s the camaraderie, best friend? Where’s the-” You’re so rudely cut off by a pillow to the face, thrown by none other than your so-called best friend.

“Puh-lease, Park SeoJoon is way out of your league. I said it. Sniff sniff, cry cry, get over it, babe.”

You frown, shaking a closed fist at him. “One day, Jeon, you’ll see. One day.” With a defeated sigh, you flop onto your back and throw your feet up onto Jungkook’s lap, ignoring the “ugh your feet smell” comment he makes and instead, focusing on the dreary white ceiling of your unit.

The both of you know it’s just harmless joking when you refer to Park SeoJoon as your boyfriend and whenever Jungkook makes fun of your eating habits and pudgy food babies. To strangers, the way you two interact may seem a bit harsh and pretty immature, but for the two of you, the playful insults and level of savagery are just right. It’s a relief that you can bicker and banter with him and know there are no hard feelings, that you two know each other well enough to know where the lines that should not be crossed are. But it hasn’t always been this way.

When you first met Jungkook freshman year of college, he was ridiculously shy, probably one of the most soft spoken and just plain awkward people you’d ever met. So much so that, being the decent, civilized human being you were, you felt completely obligated to be nice back, mostly because you were afraid he might cry if you accidentally looked him in the eye or something. He seemed so delicate, perpetually wide eyed and fearful, and for that reason, you felt a little more distant from him and closer with the other guys. You were able to freely throw around insults and make all the snarky jabs you wanted around them. Jungkook was just too quiet, and thus you were too nice to him. That is, until one day, your mutual friend Taehyung proposed the idea of having a Mario Kart tournament out of boredom, and somehow it ended up being just you and Jungkook in the final race. Spoiler alert – you beat Jungkook. Blue shelled him right at the finish line and cackled like a disney villain as you cut right in front and took first place. You’ll never forget that moment – it was the first time he ever swore at you. Actually, that was the first time you ever heard Jungkook swear period – ears red at the tips, cheating accusations and demands for a rematch flying around chaotically. But ever since then, that weird wall between you two came crashing down, and that is how your beautiful meme of a friendship came to be.

In the comfortable silence, some random Marvel movie on in the background, you glance over at your best friend, lips involuntarily curling up into a smile. You’re more than glad that those walls came down that day, that you were able to spend majority of your college days attached at the hip, that now, as annoying as he may be, Jungkook is still by your side to this day, eating greasy take-out with you and spending what should be a lively night out, at home instead, vegging out and pigging out. A very nice Friday evening in, with a blubbery food baby. And Park SeoJoon as your imaginary boyfriend. You suddenly groan at the thought and shove your face into the pillow Jungkook just threw at you. It’s been approximately three years since your last relationship, but for some reason it feels like it’s been so much longer than that. That relationship with your then college boyfriend ended shortly after graduation and you can’t believe that was truly the last time you dated someone. You remember spending two weeks ruining Jungkook’s shirts one by one with your snot and tears while hugging tubs of melting ice cream to your chest. Three. Whole. Years. Ago.

You let out another groan and it’s louder this time, even with the pillow muffling your mouth. You’re unable to control your train of thought as it travels to a more stressful place, ruining your once zen state of mind on this lovely Fat Friday evening. What are you even doing with your life? Or to put more accurately, what are you doing wrong with your life? Are you doing something wrong? It just feels like at this point, you should you be doing something more, chasing after your goals and dreams, or at least have some more adult characteristics to your life. While it’s very true that you already have so much to be thankful for, for some reason it just feels like you’re doing something wrong – or something’s just missing. Everyone else seems to have it all together, so why do you still feel like you’re ten steps behind?

You must’ve groaned a couple times more without even realizing it because moments later, the pillow is abruptly snatched away from your face, revealing a very puzzled Jungkook.

“What are you moaning and groaning about?” He asks, raising a brow before giving you a look of utter disbelief. “Is it because of what I said about Park SeoJoon? Woman, for the last time, you just gotta accept the fact that it’s not gonna happen and move on with your li-”

“Jungkook,” You interject, voice quieter than normal. “Am- am I just doing this all wrong?”  

Jungkook abruptly comes to a halt, his mouth still hanging open silently from when you cut him off. A slew of jokes and insults remains lodged in his throat as his chocolate eyes closely study your face. You can tell he’s internally debating on how seriously he should be taking your words. Like is this a “reply with another joke” kind of situation, or a “sit down, tell me what’s wrong” kind of conversation that’s about to happen? It feels like this is always how conversations are between the two of you, they can switch from childish insults to pondering the meaning of life in the blink of an eye. Luckily, Jungkook’s used to it by now – having sudden and unexpectedly deep conversations with you doesn’t terrify him anymore like it used to in the past.  

“What do you mean by that?” Jungkook inquires, deciding it’d be best to tread carefully. He uncrosses his legs and places his feet on the floor, elbows resting on his knees in a much more serious posture.

Over time, he’s gotten so good at feeling you out and directing the conversation as needed, even though he used to have internal melt downs every time you would open up to him. He’s gotten so much better at having conversations period – he handles them like champ now.

“What are we doing Jeon?” The words come out as a deflated sigh, an accurate description of how you feel at the moment. “It’s Friday night and while people our age are spending way too much money getting drunk and having fun taking over the city, we’re upholding a Friday tradition that consists of eating pure oil and poking at our food babies.” Jungkook immediately glances down at his own stomach before meeting your eyes again.

“Uh, I don’t have a food baby so you’re kind of alone on that one.” Jungkook corrects you, rubbing his hand up and down against his flat stomach. You shoot him the deadliest glare you can conjure up. It’s not your fault your body was made to cling to blubber in order to have babies and produce life in this world.

“What, you wanna just go out then?” Jungkook suggests, ignoring the daggers you send his way. “We always have the option to go out and get drunk, you know. If that’s what you wanna do, let’s just call some people up and go then.” Giving the glare a rest, you shake your head, arms and legs splayed out like a starfish as you stare up at nothing, another sigh heavy on your chest.

“That’s not it, Jeon. I just- ugh, I don’t know.” You twist around and smack your fists and feet against the sofa cushion, like a child throwing a mini tantrum. “All I know is that I’m young, I’m single, with all the time in the world and yet here I am, living life like a retired grandma.”

“Hey, what’s wrong with being a retired grandma? That’s like the ultimate goal in life.” Jungkook tuts, leaning forward to grab his bazillionth fried egg roll of the night. That boy is an intergalactic blackhole when it comes to food, yet he never has a food baby, damn damn damn.

“When I was 18, I remember wanting to hurry up and grow up and be in my twenties already.” You reminisce, still focusing on the popcorn pattern decorating the ceiling, “I figured by the time I was 26, I’d have discovered my true passions while exploring my twenties, that I’d be married, settled down after having fully lived out my younger years, maybe on the way with a little one or two, I don’t know.” You bemoan. “I guess adulthood just isn’t what I expected it to be.”

“So what you’re saying is you want to get pregnant.” Jungkook’s smiles mischievously as he leans towards you, flashing you a wink, “That can be easily arranged.”

“Pervert,” You jokingly shove him away, and he just chuckles. “You know that’s not what I meant. Plus I’m not ready to have kids, could you even imagine it?” Your eyes widen comically in horror, “I can barely take care of myself – God knows if I’d be able to keep a tiny, fragile human being alive.” 

“True, those succulents you got for your birthday last year barely lasted two weeks,” Jungkook raises his cup to his lips, coughing under his breath before taking a sip, “even though they’re like the easiest plants to raise.”

“Please, rub more salt on my wound Jeon, I insist!”

Jungkook gives you a satisfied smirk before his demeanor morphs into something more serious, fingers rubbing at his chin thoughtfully. “I mean, I don’t think you’re doing anything wrong,” He muses, eyes flicking upwards to meet yours as he gives you one of his gentle, heartwarming smiles – the rare kind that comes out when he’s done joking and ready to comfort you.

“Think about it, you’ve pretty much met majority of the societal standards there are for being a young adult in this day and age. You’re educated, you have a job with a steady pay, got your own place, and you lead a pretty stable lifestyle.” He absentmindedly plays with the cup in his hands. “But I don’t think there’s anything wrong with still not knowing exactly what it is you want to do, or what next steps you want to take. Like so what if you’re single, lots of people are.” Jungkook shrugs. “Who even says that has to be the next step you take? I think it’s still okay that you are,” he looks down at his hands, expression soft, “that we are, still trying to figure things out, one day at a time, you know?”

You hum in agreement, Jungkook’s words bringing immediate comfort to your restless mind. He’s right. It’s not like you’ve made any grave mistakes or have some monumental life-or death issue to face. It’s not a sin to just do your own thing and not follow the “standard” steps of life people usually take. It’s just that the concept of it all, the topic itself, makes you feel like a baby – a very lost, disappointed, overgrown cry-baby because you don’t really feel put together or like you know what you’re doing. But like Jungkook said, that’s okay. It’s alright that you’re still trying to figure it all out, at your own pace – you’re slowly creating your own path.

“Since when did you get so wise, huh Jeon?” You smile, spirits lifted and already feeling a lot better than just a few minutes ago. Jungkook just always seems to know what to say to make you feel better.

He just shrugs with a jokingly cocky pout of his lips, “I’m the quarter life crisis guru, come to me with all your first world problems and you shall find enlightenment.” His words automatically make you punch him in the arm lightly and all you can afford is a weak insult muttered under your breath with a small smile on your lips.

If you were to have this conversation with anyone else besides Jungkook, you would probably die before admitting such embarrassingly trivial, quarter-life-crisis complaints. It hurts your pride, being an adult and having to admit you don’t really know what you’re doing with life. But because this is Jungkook, the insecurities of your heart come out so easily. No matter how much you joke around or annoy each other, he’s your closest and most trusted confidant. He’s actually a great listener – so honest yet gentle with his words (when he’s being serious, of course), and with him, figuring out life’s problems isn’t as daunting of a task. With him, conversations flow, anxiety is immediately blanketed over with a comforting peace, solutions are developed more smoothly, plans get put into action more proactively. He may still be salty every time he sees a blue shell and still gives you hell for it to this day, but if he was really that annoyed by you, he wouldn’t be sitting on your couch, listening to you complain and trying to help you figure out your life. That’s Jungkook for you – good old reliable Jungkook.

“Did someone say quarter life crisis?” You both whip your heads toward the door at the familiar voice that suddenly calls out of nowhere. “If it’s ___ we’re talking about, then she just needs to get laid. Problem solved.” That same voice lets out a yelp when a bunny slipper comes flying at his head.

“We have intruders.” You mutter as you look down at your one bare foot, the moment completely ruined. “I knew I shouldn’t have given you guys a spare key.”

“But you did, and it comes in handy in times like these.” Another voice, lighter and higher pitched than the first, pipes up. You allow your eyes to close, as if trying to take in the last bits of comfort from your conversation with Jungkook as jackets and bags are rustled around, the sound of footsteps growing louder and closer to you.

“How long have you guys been standing there?” Jungkook questions the newly arrived guests.

“Long enough to know that ___ needs to get some.” The first voice replies teasingly. Eyes still closed, the couch quickly sinks down next you, and an arm is thrown around your shoulders, “So, the well’s a bit dry this season, huh?”

“Oh my god shut up, Tae.”

“It’s drought season and the crops are in need of a good ol’ watering, ayy?”

“I’m seriously going to punch your face in.”

“Moses parted the Red Sea and then just left it parted, huh? Tsk tsk, the cruel man.”

Back in college, once those barriers between you and Jungkook came down, they seemed to come down with everyone else as well. As you and the others really started to get to know Jungkook, you quickly learned that he was the complete opposite of how he initially presented himself. He wasn’t shy at all, or timid in the least – the boy loved to joke around and once he was comfortable, would shoot playful insults left and right and make all the sassy comments just as much as you did, if not more. Because of that, he could be a real pain, since he seemed to thrive off of messing with you and seeing your reactions. But if you thought Jungkook was a pain in the ass, then Taehyung proved himself to be a real thirty-six-foot flagpole up your ass. No one ever guessed that timid little Jungkook would click so well with Taehyung and that together as a team of evil, they would cause you so much misery. It was to the point that everyone knew better than to leave the three of you alone together for longer than five minutes – for the sake of world peace. Though after growing up a little and leaving college, Taehyung stopped mucking around as much, and he seemed to calm down even more once he and Hari got together. But the little shit-head spirit still lives on inside of him to this day – it’s a light that no one can snuff out. Bless Hari’s heart for continuing to keep tight reins on him and love his sorry ass.

Before you can show him the fullness of your wrath, Taehyung gives you a shit-eating grin and quickly bounces over to the other section of the couch where his girlfriend, aka your closest gal pal and college roommate Hari has taken a seat, pulling his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around her shoulders.

“She’s being awfully scary today, what’d you do Kook?”

Jungkook lets out an offended huff, and he’s right back to his normal, sarcastic self. “The hell did I do, I brought her highness take out on my way back from the gym and we’re watching her favorite Iron Man again for the umpteenth time.” He crosses his arms over his chest, “I’ve done nothing wrong.” 

“You love Iron Man as much as I do, bitch. Don’t even try me with that shit.”

“See? Major case of the grumps.”

Hari peels Taehyung’s arms off and gives him a scolding look when he whines before making her way to your side. She places a comforting hand on your back, peering down at your distraught face. “You alright, ­___? What’s up?”

“Ugh, it’s nothing, really.” You hide your face in your hands, “It’s literally not a big deal, I’m just a little irked, I guess.” Though it hurts your pride, you decide to be a little more honest, since they’ve already heard bits of your conversation with Jungkook. “Just debating whether I’m living my 26-year-old life right or not, that’s all.”

Hari raises her eyebrows, as if she can’t believe what her ears are hearing. “You’ve got a grown ass man who brings you take out all the time and willingly gives you free reign over his Netflix account. Looks to me you’re living the life, bub.”

“I think that was supposed to make me feel appreciated, but it just made me sound whipped as hell.”

Hari waves a hand dismissively at Jungkook, who scowls and starts reconsidering his life choices. “So what, you wanna go out and do something then? Something to make you feel better? Or in general, how can we,” She gestures to the three of them in a circular motion, “help convince you that you’re doing life just fine?”

“I’m telling ya, she just needs to get boned.” Taehyung mumbles while happily chewing on a fortune cookie. “See, even my fortune cookie agrees with me – thou must get the D in order to succeed.” You abruptly stand to your feet, turning to him with poisonous daggers shooting from your eyes.

“That’s it, get your punk ass over here, you little-“

“A boyfriend!” Hari suddenly clasps her hands together, an imaginary light bulb flickering over her head, “___ needs more than just a one-night stand, babe – we need to get her a mans.” You halt in your forward lunge towards Taehyung, who’s curled up in fetal position with his hands covering his head, and turn to her, your eyebrows knitting together in disbelief.

“You really think getting a boyfriend’s going to make me feel better?”

She nods eagerly, looking utterly convinced. “Let’s consider the facts for a moment, shall we? You’ve been out of school and working for a couple of years now, you’ve got this pad in the city all to yourself and nothing to do but eat junk and re-watch old superhero movies,” Your mouth falls open to protest, but Hari puts a finger to your lips, shushing you effectively. “And you’re having all these quarter-life-crisis symptoms. Maybe the issue is that it’s time for you to move on to the next chapter of your life, which in this case could be—”

“—finding a bae.” Taehyung finishes for her, his eyes wide as saucers as he uncurls from his fetal position to sit up on the couch. “Makes sense to me! HyukJae was what, three years ago? And you’ve been single ever since. Now that you’re an established, independent woman, there’s nothing holding you back from finding someone to do life with.” He wiggles his eyebrows at you.  

There’s a beat of silence, but you wonder if the others can hear the gears turning in your head as you contemplate this proposal. It literally goes against everything Jungkook just said, finding a boyfriend just because it’s the proper “next step” you should be taking. Plus it’s not like you need a man to make your life complete – you’re already happily successful in sustaining yourself and your relationships with what you’ve got right now. But, you have to admit, a special someone could help spice things up a little, make life a little more fun and a little less drab. Maybe this person could help push you out of your comfort zone to go explore the city, find some new hobbies, get out of the apartment and try something new period. Maybe this significant other could help pave this new path for you and your life, because if lazy people were an army, then you would be the head chief in command, so God knows you need the help. So maybe, maybe you just need a little outside push to get you going.

The more you think about it, the more convinced you are that it’s at least worth a shot, and the determination slowly begins to grow inside of you. You know what Jungkook said but you figure taking this step is better than doing nothing at all. You suddenly stand up and pump your fist in the air like it’s a declaration of war, and you end up startling the others with your abrupt actions.

“Okay, let’s do it.” You announce, finding a new sense of motivation within you. “Let’s go and find me a mans! HUZZAH!”

Hari jumps up and squeals, immediately grabbing your phone off the coffee table and gushing about helping you make a dating profile and about which apps would be best for you to use. In the midst of all the commotion, Jungkook remains silent, his eyes trained on the floor, expression hard to read. But the excitement is too dizzying for you to notice. You just can’t help but have a good feeling about this next step in your life.

- - - - - 

“Okay, bread, check. Rice… check. Veggies, strawberries, bananas, check check check.”

“Don’t forget my Lucky Charms.”

Looking up from your phone, you cock your head at the man with the messy wavy hair casually leaning on the shopping cart rail, a look of disbelief painted on your face. “I still don’t get why I have to include your favorite cereal on my grocery list, Jeon.” Jungkook makes a funny face at you, one that makes him look dramatically offended, the cart coming to an abrupt stop.

“Um, first of all, Lucky Charms should be everyone’s favorite cereal, including yours. And second, I need to keep a box at your place for when we do delivery ‘cause I need something to eat right after working out or else I feel like I’m gonna die – literally.”

You roll your eyes and ignore the way Jungkook shoots a grin your way as he continues to push the cart. “You’re a grown ass man who makes his own money, get your own sugary cereal.”

“Do you want your best friend to starve to death? Is that the kind of love we’ve got here?”

“And you call me dramatic.”

Pausing at the cereal section, you internally groan after seeing that some jerk just had to put all the boxes of Lucky Charms up on the top shelf. You need to have a word with the grocery store manager about discriminating so openly against short people like this.

“So speaking of bananas, how’s the dating app thing going?” Jungkook asks casually, whistling along to the song they’re playing at the store. This time you groan externally, lowering your head down to rest it on the other available half of the shopping cart handle.

“You did not just use bananas as a segway into this conversation.”

Jungkook hums in indifference, pushing the cart along and smiling to himself when you continue to walk with him, still face down and leaning on the shopping cart. He suddenly comes to a stop which results in you hitting your head against the metal bars where infants are supposed to sit, and you mutter a curse at him, rubbing the sore spot as you meet his eyes with a glare. He just arches a brow innocently and points up at the shelf, looking all too smug for your liking. “Found the Lucky Charms.”

You let out a huff before nudging Jungkook out of the way. “I mean, it’s only been three days, but it’s going alright, I guess.” You inform him, making your way towards the shelves. “I’ve only talked to like two guys so far, but honestly it’s just, kinda weird? I don’t know, it just doesn’t feel natural at all, so that’s been rough.”

It’s only been a few days since your little eureka moment about seizing the day and giving your adult life a re-vamping. It’s been strange, having small talk conversation with potential dates with only having a few pictures and some witty captions and quotes on their “About Me” pages to go off of. Technology has certainly reinvented the way people date nowadays, but you can’t help but miss meeting people naturally through mutual friends or at a social event or something. Nevertheless, Hari’s been harping on you every day about any new matches you’ve made and keeping close tabs on your conversations with your matches, but it surprises you that Jungkook’s suddenly taking interest in this whole spiel. He’s seemed so uninterested in this from the start, which was a bit disappointing if you’re being honest. You had hoped you’d be able to talk to him more about it and get his opinions on your matches and who seemed good and who seemed like a left-swipe, only to get less than enthusiastic input from him. So for him to suddenly bring it up on his own volition is certainly an unexpected surprise.

“Mmm, I see.” You don’t even notice the way Jungkook’s voice dumbs down a notch from behind, too busy staring up at the colorful rainbow box above your head as determination settles in your stomach. If you just believe in yourself, you can do it – you will reach that goddamn box of cereal for your goddamned best friend and his childish taste palate, even if it kills you. This isn’t for Jungkook – this is for all the other shorties in the world.

You make your first attempt to reach the cereal. You’re up on your toes and then come straight back down, your fingers not even coming close to reaching the stupid box when Jungkook finally speaks up again. “What- what do you even look for in a guy, anyways?”

You pause for a moment, stopping yourself from jumping up for your second attempt to turn and face Jungkook. Even though the two of you are best friends, you realize you don’t really talk about this kind of stuff with him. Hari is always your go-to friend for these types of conversations, and it dawns on you that not only does Jungkook not know what your ideal type is, but you also have no idea what his is either. You’re surprised to discover something you don’t know about your best friend.

“Well, for starters, I’d appreciate it if he wasn’t a serial killer.” You muse, tapping your index finger on your chin thoughtfully. “I also feel like I like guys who are tall, have nice hair, who keep themselves fit and know how to dress well. You know, a guy who knows how to be a basic human being.”

“Oh, so basically me.” Jungkook quips, “I’m flattered, babe, really. Didn’t know you were so into this.” He sticks his tongue out when you smack his arm in response.

“Someone who wears anything besides hoodies and basketball shorts.” You emphasize jokingly, sticking your tongue out right back at him.

Jungkook raises his brows. “So wearing nothing? I could dig the nudist life, sounds chill.”

You snort, “Please, Jeon, spare us all.” Turning back to the shelves, you continue to think aloud. “I don’t know, I just want someone who’s easy to talk to, like a friend, someone who likes to joke around, but can be serious when needed. Someone who’s passionate about his ambitions in life and is a real go-getter, unlike myself. Someone who will be romantic and loyal – not like all the cheese you see in the movies, but in his own special way. You know,” you shrug, coming up onto your toes as you take another unsuccessful swipe at the box of cereal, your fingertips grazing the edge of it, “someone who will just love me right, I guess.” With a little hop, you accidentally push the cereal box an inch backwards and it pulls a frustrated noise out of you. But you are determined to stay here all night if it means you’ll be able to get this cereal box down yourself. Fucking Jungkook and his cereal needs. 

“What about you, Jeon?” You grunt out, this time reaching up with your other arm, as if it’ll make a difference. “What’s your type?” A rush of excitement comes over you when you manage to sneak the box back to its original spot, and now you can almost get two fingers around it.

“I…don’t really know.” You hear Jungkook say softly behind you, but you’re too zoned in on those damn Lucky Charms to notice the change in his demeanor. “I agree with a lot of the traits you named off, I guess.”

“What, you want someone tall, athletic, and well-dressed too?” You can most definitely hear Jungkook roll his eyes at that comment, and it makes you smile, even as you continue to struggle to make contact with the flimsy cardboard box, muttering incoherent complaints under your breath.

“I mean if he isn’t Park SeoJoon, then I’m not interested.”

Still facing the shelves, you can’t help but laugh at his mocking tone, even though you know he’s mimicking you. “Okay seriously though, I just realized I don’t know really this stuff about you. And come to think of it, I haven’t seen you date someone in like years.”

There’s a short pause in the conversation when suddenly you feel something warm press up against your back, and it startles you. You crane your neck upwards at a diagonal to see what it is and nearly let out a yelp. Jungkook’s face is merely inches away from yours, his eyes fixed on the box of Lucky Charms above. The scent of light soap and clean laundry detergent mixed with something slightly musky overwhelms your senses as he leans forward and presses himself against your back even more, the sensation causing a breath to become lodged in your throat. Without even having to rise onto his toes, he easily grabs the dumb box of Lucky Charms, finally ending your misery in more ways than just one, and before your body can even experience a full-on proper reaction, he’s already moving, a sudden chill replacing the warmth on your back as he moves to toss the cereal into the cart.

“Yeah, last time I dated was Ji Soo my sophomore year. Damn, that was a long time ago.” Jungkook recalls, leaning on the cart and continuing to push it down the aisle, not having any clue what he just did. He has no clue that your heart is suddenly thumping wildly in your chest, and that a heat is starting to spread across your cheeks, and you have to physically pinch yourself to snap out of it before Jungkook can notice something’s off.

Whenever Jungkook is physical with you, it’s almost always tied in with a joke or is just a part of the platonic comfort you two share with one another. Ruffling your hair, having his head or feet in your lap, pinching his cheeks – none of that is out of the ordinary. But feeling his back against you, his body so close and radiating heat onto your skin, breath puffing over your cheeks – this is all uncharted territory for you. And as his best friend, you’re not quite sure how to process the physiological effects you’re experiencing from it. You’re still in a bit of a daze, and you end up trailing a few steps behind him, close enough to keep up with the conversation but far enough to allow your body calm down. It’s sad how worked up you got just from your male best friend pressing himself up against you so suddenly. Maybe Taehyung is right and you’re just in desperate need for some physical intimacy or something.

“Ground ginger’s next on the list.” You mumble timidly, following Jungkook as he rounds the corner and into the next aisle. “B-but yeah, Ji Soo – feels like that whole month-long shebang happened eons ago.” You almost curse out loud when you see rows on rows of all kinds of spices littering the bottom shelves, and the one spice you need up on the damn top shelf once again. Starting next week, you will wear heels to the grocery store. Or stilts – whatever it takes.

“Yeah,” Jungkook chuckles to himself, “I still can’t believe she liked me so much that I just decided to go with it. Young dumb Jungkook definitely learned early on that that’s not how relationships work.”

“Cocky bastard.” You scoff, shaking your head. But he just shrugs, as if to say “it is what it is.”

“So how come you haven’t dated anyone since then?” You inquire, hoping Jungkook hasn’t noticed where the ground ginger is located because this time, you are hell bent on just snatching it up and calling it good already. You’ve had enough strange, foreign bodily reactions for the day.

“I…I don’t know.” Jungkook admits as you sneakily side step towards the shelf, standing up on your tiptoes while he’s busy staring off into the distance. His expression is reflective, and almost a little solemn as well. He really seems to be contemplating and taking this whole conversation quite seriously, even though it wasn’t intended to be that way. Maybe he still misses Ji Soo or something, the poor boy.

“I guess… I’ve just been waiting for the right person to come along.” Jungkook finally states after another few moments of silence, which you unceremoniously break after landing on your feet too loudly in a sad attempt to quietly jump and grab the bottle of ginger, which obviously didn’t happen quietly or at all, period.

A long list of all the expletives you know in multiple languages runs through your mind as you feel the warm plane of Jungkook’s chest press against your shoulder blades again. This time his fingers brush against yours along the way, and it almost feels like he lingers there for a second, but it’s probably just your imagination because before you know it, he’s already backing away and tossing the ground ginger into the cart, just like before. You really must be on something today – your raging hormones and galloping heart need to get their shit together and calm down already.

“I-I’m sure you’ll find her soon, one day.” You manage to stutter out, an awkward smile on your lips, “Someone who will accept you, even though you have the taste buds of a five-year-old.” You joke in hopes of lightening the mood that has somehow changed drastically in the last few minutes. Whether it’s because of how pensive Jungkook’s suddenly become or because of your inability to control your bodily functions at the moment, the air definitely feels different compared to five minutes ago, and it’s not very comfortable – at all. Fortunately, the joke seems to do the trick because a smile slowly spreads across Jungkook’s face, and all the seriousness and weird angst seems to vanish almost immediately.  

“Least I don’t still dip my oreos in my milk when I eat them. Heck, I don’t even eat oreos anymore.” Jungkook scoffs teasingly, eyeing the blue package of cookies in the cart, “Seriously what are you, a child?”

“See? You’ve got such shit taste buds, Jeon.” You shake your head pitifully at him. “Just watch, you’re gonna end up dating a huge foodie or a professional food blogger who will properly roast you for having such awful taste, and I’d pay just to watch it all go down.” The imagery itself makes you laugh, and you take advantage of the newly livened mood to snag the cart from Jungkook and head towards the cash registers. “Let me know if you’re ever interested and I’ll help you hunt one down, yeah?”

You pause to flash a cheeky grin towards Jungkook, and the way he chuckles in disbelief is satisfying enough of a reaction for you to turn back around and make your way towards the self-check out area. But you miss the way Jungkook’s laughter quickly dwindles, transitioning into a soft sigh as he watches your figure walk farther and farther away.

“Yeah, I’ll definitely let you know, someday.”

- - - - - 

“Welp, that’s number six in the books. Check. Done-zo. Fin. Es todo. Hip hop’s dead, y’all – it’s dead!”

“Uh, I take it the date went well?” Jungkook peeks his head out from the kitchen, a spoon hanging from his mouth and a jar of peanut butter in his hand (the super smooth, liquidy kind, like the weirdo he is. Who eats anything but chunky?) as you trudge your way inside his shared apartment with Yoongi and Namjoon, your old college friends who are also part of the same producer team as Jungkook, and throw yourself onto the sofa face first. You grumble something inaudibly into the cushion, but Jungkook doesn’t need to ask to know you’re probably saying some not so positive words under your breath. He holds his snack to his chest and walks over to lift your feet up, placing them on his lap and making himself comfortable.

“So, what went wrong this time?”

“He wath jmmf brrrurng.”

“Sorry, I don’t speak cave man.”

You lift your head up from the sofa and crane your neck back to glare at Jungkook, long messy curls covering half of your face and killing your intimidating factor. “I said, he was just boring.”

Jungkook makes a noise of understanding, unscrewing the lid and digging his spoon into the jar. He brings the rich cream to his mouth, smacking his lips with an obnoxious pop. “I mean, at least he wasn’t a creepy 58-year-old who lied about everything in his dating profile. Compared to that, ‘boring’ doesn’t sound half as bad.”

Giving up, you re-smush your face back into the couch cushion, mumbling some more incoherent words and phrases your parents would be shocked to hear you say.

It’s been about a month since you embarked on this journey of exploring the world of dating apps. Hari said so herself that she personally knew of four happy couples that met through dating apps and insisted that it’d be a breeze for you to find someone. So maybe it’s just you, maybe you have rotten luck, or maybe you’re just not a dating app kind of person, because Date #1 could not stop talking about himself – the only question he asked was if you were going to finish the rest of your dinner or not. Date #2 ended up being a sugar daddy type of deal, and although the figures were tempting, it just wasn’t what you were looking for. You nearly filed a restraining order against Date #3 for being way too inappropriately touchy and creepy throughout the entire date. You even had to text Jungkook to come rescue you from that whole mess and he nearly knocked that creep’s lights out for being such a sleaze bag. Date #4 was the 58-year-old who lied about his dating profile and said he was 28 when in reality, he had a daughter your age. YOUR. AGE. Date #5 was such a turn off with how rudely he treated the waiters and pretty much all the other restaurant staff – an automatic swipe left. And now Date #6.

You roll over onto your back, curls fanning out around your head. You probably look like Medusa’s ugly sister right now. “He just didn’t... talk. He was the total opposite of Date #1 who couldn’t shut up long enough to let me excuse myself to the restroom. This guy barely said anything and honestly, I don’t know what’s worse.” You mutter a quick apology to Jungkook who squeaks after you accidentally dig your heel into his thigh while ranting, hitting a spot that’s a wee bit too close to a very sensitive area for him. “I kept asking questions to try to get to know the guy, only to get one-word answers from him every time.” You indignantly point at the clock on the wall. “That’s why I’m back so early, it took like forty-five minutes tops for me to run out of patience and questions to ask.”

“Mmm, sucks.” Jungkook mumbles half-heartedly, seemingly more interested in licking the spoon completely clean. “So you basically ate tacos and talked to a wall for forty-five minutes.”

“Exactly! And the tacos weren’t even that good!” You sit up, waving around exaggerated gestures before falling back onto the couch, draping an arm over your face. “You know what, that’s it. It’s obvious these are all signs that I’m supposed to be a nun. This must be my fate, my inevitable future, and I see now that I can no longer avoid the path that has been so clearly paved for me.”

“My god woman, you are dramatic. Has anyone ever told you that?” Jungkook pokes you in the stomach with the heel of his spoon, and you to flinch from the ticklish sensation.

You peek out from under your arm, “Should’ve gone into acting, huh? Seriously, damn all my life choices, damn them all!”

Jungkook chuckles, clearly amused by your theatrics. “Maybe you should take a break from the dating apps, give the potential dating pool some time to refresh and replenish a bit or something. Or, you could actually take my advice for once and stop putting so much pressure on yourself to find a boyfriend and just roll with the punches as they come.” The look he gives you is jokingly stern, though there’s some seriousness in his tone, and it makes you sigh. Maybe Jungkook’s actually onto something, as proven by your current not-so-hot track record. The past month has been more draining than fun, and so far it’s all been for nothing. Maybe you just need to give it all a break, and give yourself a break, really. Or seriously start considering entering the convent – either one, really.

As you continue to contemplate your life choices, you watch as Jungkook brings another spoonful of PB to his lips, only to dribble a straight line of it down his precious white t-shirt. He mutters an expletive under his breath and sets the jar and spoon down on the coffee table, rubbing away at the stain with his fingers. His efforts prove to be futile when the ugly brown smudge remains and without warning, he stands up and pulls the shirt off over his head, revealing the perfectly chiseled muscles of his back and shoulders. You involuntarily gulp at the sight of his sunkissed skin and the way his muscles ripple as he moves to throw the shirt into the laundry bin.

“Yeah, maybe...you’re right…” Your breath comes out in a quiet whoosh.

It’s not like you haven’t seen Jungkook shirtless before. There was that one time you went hot tubbing on the ski trip you and your friends took in college, or the few times you had to barge into his dorm room and drag his half-naked ass out of bed so he wouldn’t be late to lecture. But Jungkook’s always been a lot more conservative than not, and he didn’t exactly have the greatest confidence back then either. He used to be absolutely mortified in those moments and would hurriedly grab at anything nearby to cover up his body. Even though so many people agreed he was one of the most handsome and sought after guys on campus, he was still so self-conscious of himself. But as he went through college, he started to become interested in exercising and eventually made the commitment to hit the gym to change not only his body, but his confidence and perception of himself as well. The Jungkook now, with his sculpted physique, lean muscles, and much larger, more dominating stature, is totally different from the skinny, insecure boy you knew back in college. With the way he built himself up over the last few years physically, mentally, and emotionally, he just oozes confidence with now, which is great, but also not so great – for you, at least.

You chastise yourself every single time, but you can’t help but ogle openly during these rare moments his sweet glory is revealed to you. It’s so wrong to look at your best friend like this, you know it is – he’s just very comfortable around you and knows it’s no big deal to walk around like the half-naked god he is because it’s just you. But it’s kind of impossible to not gawk, not when his body is practically screaming to be worshipped (and is 100% worthy of it). It’s times like these that you’re reminded he is not just the jokester and bunny boy you call your best friend – he’s a fully grown man, and just so happens to be a very physically attractive one. And with the way the sight of his mouth-watering build makes your lower stomach feel, you realize once again that you’re a grown ass woman as well – a woman who has needs.

“Hey, eyes up here, perv.” He says with his back still turned to you as he grabs a hoodie hanging on one of the kitchen chairs. “And you might wanna wipe off the drool while you’re at it.” That snaps you out of your reverie as you quickly avert your eyes and sit up clumsily on the couch, making sure to scoff loud enough for him to hear.

“For your information, the world doesn’t revolve around you and your penchant for indecency, you cocky bastard. And jokes on you, there isn’t anything worth looking at, son!” Out of the corner of your eye you see him pull on the hoodie and turn back towards you, a knowing smirk tugging on his lips.

“That’s pretty much what you say every time I catch you staring. But hey, I don’t mind having an audience.” He squeezes himself next to you, draping an arm over the back of the couch and his eyes are twinkling. “But you should either fess up that you think I’m hot or come up with some new excuses, ‘cause yours are starting to get real old, babe.”

You wrinkle your nose, ignoring the way the pet name weirdly makes your heart stutter for a second. “Don’t call me babe, you baby.”

“Baby?” He leans in, his nose just a couple of dangerous inches away from yours. “I’m only like eight months younger than you, babe.”

“Whatever, you’re still a baby to me.” You grunt, folding your arms in an attempt to maintain the very little space left between your bodies. His gaze is dark and challenging, and it alone makes the heat pooling in your lower abdomen grow. “Don’t make me bring out pictures from college, Jeon. Sit down, be humble.”

“But I’m already sitting, babe.” Jungkook remarks, his tone sarcastic.

“You know, I bet Soobin wouldn’t be happy to hear her boyfriend calls other women a name that should be reserved solely for her.” You click your tongue in disapproval, secretly relieved with being able to change the subject as you quickly brush away the lustful thoughts in your head. “How are you guys even doing, by the way? Will I ever get to meet this mystery woman? Like, she’s really not just some imaginary girlfriend you made up?”

Something flashes across Jungkook’s eyes, but it’s gone before you can determine what is, and you forget all about it when he makes a face and pushes your forehead back with his index finger, “No, I’m not you, Miss ‘I’m Park SeoJoon’s wife.’ And it’s only been like less than a month, okay, chill. I just want to make sure she fully prepared to meet the freak-shows I call my friends.”

Jungkook must’ve been inspired by your new mission to find a boyfriend or something because once you started going on dates, the man apparently decided to make his own dating profile as well, surprising pretty much everyone by his sudden jump into the game. No one even knew he was interested, and he didn’t tell anyone, not even you, that he was on the apps. But that’s how he found Soobin, this mystery girl he’s apparently been seeing for the past few weeks. She’s actually a total mystery though because he hasn’t said a peep about her and how it’s been going. He’s oddly secretive about it all, which is strange because normally he tells you everything. But not this time, even though you pry and pry and pry. For some reason he just won’t budge.

“Jeon, if she can’t handle us right now, she won’t be able to handle us period, so you might as well introduce her already.” You shrug nonchalantly. “We gotta deem her worthy or weed her out.” As his best friend, you feel the need to meet this girl and see what she’s like for yourself to make sure she’s good enough for Jungkook. It’s not your fault that you want to meet her so bad – you’re just looking out for your best friend’s well-being.  

There’s a brief moment of silence as you catch Jungkook chewing on his lower lip – a habit of his when he’s feeling nervous or unsure about something – and you immediately begin to feel concerned. Maybe you pushed too much. Seeing him like that makes you feel a little guilty for prying so much without even considering that maybe something is up.

“Hang on, is something the matter?” Worry laces your voice, a hand coming to rest on his knee, “Is there a reason why you’re not saying anything?” You search his eyes for answers, but he just shakes his head vigorously, lips tightly pursed together. “Then why won’t you tell me?”

“Yeah seriously, none of us even know what this chick looks like. Why’re you keeping her such a secret from all of us?”

You hang your head backwards over the back of the couch and see Namjoon padding into the living, carrying what you assume to be an empty coffee mug in his hand. Namjoon’s always been someone Jungkook has greatly admired. He was the one who really encouraged the younger to pursue music and follow his dreams, rather than go into business like his parents wanted him to. If there’s anyone he’ll listen to, it’s Namjoon, though you continuously pray Jungkook won’t ever adopt the older man’s horrible sleeping habits. The dark shadows under his eyes and hoarseness of his voice indicate just how tired and in need of caffeine he is from most likely another all-nighter in the studio. But then again, the big producer man always looks like he runs on nothing but caffeine and no sleep. What a life.

Still hanging upside down, you give him a small wave and a “hi-yo” to which he copies your greeting adorably, his droopy eyes lighting up slightly.

“Hyung, not you too.” Jungkook whines defeatedly, running a hand down his face, “Look, she’s no secret, okay. I just, I don’t know, I just—”

“—don’t want to scare her off, yeah I get it.” Namjoon calls over his shoulder as he scuffs his slipper-clad heels towards the coffee machine in the kitchen. “It’s a new relationship, you’re still testing the waters, and we can be a lot to handle, so I get it. And by we, I really mean ___.”

“Hey!” You protest as Namjoon starts the machine before he comes out of the kitchen and strolls towards you, affectionately ruffling your already mussed hair.

“I say that with all the love in my heart, you Tasmanian devil.”

You scowl at him. “I hope your coffee is just as bitter as I am right now.”

“Anyways,” He turns to Jungkook, ignoring your griping. “Yoongi and I just got word that Slow Rabbit’s throwing some sort of PR event this weekend. He told us to invite the whole gang and any other friends, help boost our publicity a little.” Namjoon gives the younger man a pointed look. “Basically, it’s the perfect opportunity to introduce bae, if you want to, that is.”

“Oh, this is perfect!” You jump up and clasp your hands together excitedly. “We’ll finally expose Jeon for making up some fake ass imaginary girlfriend, and maybe I’ll finally be able to mingle with some normal guys for once.” You pause, turning to Namjoon, “Your producer friends are decent guys, right?”

Namjoon gives you a wary look and a half-hearted shrug, “Uhh, sure, I guess?”

“Awesome!” You chirp, “I trust you Joonie, it’s always been you and only y-” You let out a yelp when a pair of arms grabs your waist and spins you around so that you’re falling face first onto the sofa. The hands holding you hostage begin to mercilessly poke into your sides, forcing what sounds like a combination of choked laughter and cries for help out of you.

“Fake ass imaginary girlfriend, huh?” Jungkook growls, digging his fingers deeper into your love-handles, and you immediately howl in surrender. “I’m gonna make you throw up your tacos, you wench.”

From the sideline, Namjoon just sighs at the noisy commotion playing out in front of him, shaking his head as he watches Jungkook flip you onto your back and dive for your stomach, lips curling upwards mischievously. The wide grin on your face and ringing laughter in between yelps for mercy prevent Namjoon from feeling like he actually needs to intervene and save you. He does, however, feel disappointed (but not surprised) that you both can’t even see what’s happening here. He decides to just leave you two to duke it out, quietly sighing and shuffling into the kitchen to grab his coffee.

Maybe one day.

- - - - -   

It’s the following Friday night and guess where you are?

Not at home in your pajamas watching Black Panther while eating Thai take-out that Jungkook brought, that’s for sure. The thought alone makes you so incredibly sad. Because instead, in cruel reality, you’re sitting at a table inside a very dimly lit club called the Sound Bar, which is surprisingly clean and roomy, waiting for this PR event to start already. You know this is how all the hip young adults live out their lives in the movies, but now you’re seriously beginning to regret all that complaining about wanting to go out.

A few people have arrived, and you recognize them as some of Yoongi’s friends that you don’t know too well yourself. They linger around the bar in a huddled group, sipping on beers and chatting away with the man himself, who also looks like he doesn’t particularly want to be here either. That’s because you and Yoongi know what’s up – comfort is king and living under a rock is the only way to go. The thought pulls a sigh from your lungs as you turn to scan the venue. Besides them, it looks like you and your closer group of friends make up majority of the crowd currently, but people are really starting to file in now, steadily filling up the spacious area with body heat, boisterous conversation, and a lot of different smells. It makes your nose twitch.

Strangely enough, you don’t see Jungkook and Soobin yet, and you keep craning your neck to watch the door like a hawk for their entrance. While you were getting ready with Hari hours prior, you made Jungkook double pinky swear to not bail and to actually bring Soobin so you could meet her and confirm that she’s real. (“If you don’t come, I’m actually going to spread the rumor that you have an imaginary girlfriend.” “You’re the actual spawn of Satan, I swear.”) You know he’ll come regardless – he wouldn’t just leave you hanging like this. It’s finally time to figure out why he’s keeping this girl on the hush hush, and what exactly is going on with him.

“Whoa.” A baritone voice brings you out of your thoughts. Swiveling around, you see Taehyung gaping openly at you, a hand covering his mouth. “Seriously, like whoaaa.”

You scrunch your nose. “Tae, don’t even start – you’re literally so embarrassing.”

“Hey, if Hari is your number one hype woman, then I’m your number one hype man, okay, just let me be!” He stretches his arms out towards you as if he’s showing off an award, holding up jazz hands and everything. “Just look at you, queen! My baby Hari did such a great job, you look like a total hoochie mama!”

Your cheeks burn a scarlet red. “Oh good, because it was totally my goal to look like a hoochie mama. Thanks Tae.” Now you also regret letting Hari squeeze you into this skimpy black two-piece set. It was a bad idea from the start, but Taehyung’s reaction just confirms it. The short noodle strap crop top tightly hugs your bust and shows off more of your midriff than you would ever prefer. You keep wanting to cover it up with your arms out of reflex. But luckily the shorts are comfortable, though a bit short for your liking. Your hair flows down in beachy waves and a deep burgundy tints your lips, and the silver dollar-coin sized hoops hanging off your ear lobes are over the top in your opinion, but Hari threatened you to wear them out, insisting the outfit wouldn’t be complete without them. If anything, it’s Hari’s fault you apparently look like a hoochie mama.

“No problem!” Taehyung grins, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. He catches whiff of your unhappy demeanor and nudges you playfully, his expression softening. “Aw, c’mon ­­­__, lighten up a little! You look hot, seriously.” He pulls away to examine the state you’re in. “Do you need a drink? Actually yeah, you definitely do. I’m going to get you one.” Taehyung spins around on the stool to head to the bar, only for a hand to clamp down on his shoulder, stopping him mid-spin. Your eyes drift to the side and you’re surprised to see Jungkook giving his friend a silent but very clear warning, tilting his head intimidatingly. “No, I’ll go get ­it. God knows how many types of alcohol you’ll ask Hoseok hyung to mix into her drink. Then you’ll be responsible for dealing with the mess afterwards.”

Glaring at Taehyung’s sheepish smile, Jungkook’s slate eyes land on you and immediately widen, his jaw going slack when he sees the little (emphasis on little) black number you’re wearing. It’s probably because he’s so used to you wearing only leggings and oversized shirts and hoodies all the time that seeing you like this is a shock. That’s certainly how you felt looking at your reflection in the mirror at home. But you can’t help but shift uncomfortably in your seat, suddenly feeling the need to cross a leg over the other and place your purse strategically over your midriff from his gaze alone. Seconds, minutes, hours could be passing by but his glare doesn’t falter one bit. It’s almost seems like he’s angry or something but it’s also not quite that – you can’t seem to put your finger on it. Fortunately, the lights are dimmed low, and you just hope it’s dark enough to hide the blush that’s suddenly crawling up your neck from the way Jungkook keeps staring. At this rate he’s going to end up burning a hole straight through you.

“Doesn’t she look smoking?” Taehyung whistles low, giving his friend a nudge to the ribs. He barely moves and just continues keep his eyes glued on you.

“Hari did this?” Jungkook ignores him, finally speaking up after a few tense moments. His voice sounds much deeper than normal.

“Yeah,” You squeak awkwardly, looking away from his heavy gaze. What’s his deal? “So uh, where’s Soobin?” You try to change the subject, clearing your throat slightly and pretending to look around for this girl you don’t even know. You think it works, but then Jungkook catches you off guard by suddenly shrugging off his jean jacket and reaching around to drape it over your shoulders, the denim fabric engulfing your figure. It automatically feels a lot stuffier and ten degrees warmer, but you’re not sure if it’s because of the jacket or because of Jungkook’s unrelenting glower. You suddenly feel jittery.

“Dude, I could use this later when I’m drunk and cold and waiting for an Uber, not when it’s like a bajillion degrees inside.” You joke as you jump down from the stool and move to take the jacket off, only for his hands to keep it firmly in place on your shoulders. You look up at the man towering over you and have to consciously keep yourself from physically cowering away. Jungkook looks pissed. But for what reason, you have no clue. He just looks annoyed beyond reason, and not like when you normally mess with him and call him a fatty or something. It’s different, and it’s intimidating enough to make you swallow your pride and obey his next words.

“Keep it on.”

He lingers for a moment longer before dropping his arms and stalking off, disappearing among the crowd that has grown significantly in the last ten minutes, probably to go find Soobin. What’s disturbing is how your chest rises and falls rapidly, your heart hammering against your rib cage like a trapped bird that wants to be let out. You have no idea what the hell just happened here. It’s not like Jungkook to ever despise your outfits, let alone even care about what you wear in general. Maybe he fought with Soobin on the way here and is in a bad mood? Or worse, maybe you did something to upset him without realizing it. You shake your head as if to brush aside all the conflicting thoughts, and pinch the bridge of your nose. Yeah, you do need a drink, pronto.

At the bar you order a vodka-cran and send a weak smile to the bartender Hoseok, who’s a friend of Namjoon’s and an acquaintance of yours, requesting for him to make the drink a bit stronger than normal. He smiles back and doesn’t question your request, immediately whisking away to make your order. You would hug the man if you could, God knows how much you need a nice strong drink right now.

“___!” You hear Hari giggle and she plops down on the stool next to yours, looking very giddy and flushed in the face – a tell-tale sign that she’s had a few drinks already. At least someone’s having a good time. “Where’d you get the jacket? I kind of like the addition, it’s a bit grungy but in like a sexy, hipster way, you know?”

Remembering what happened with Jungkook, the jacket suddenly feels twenty pounds heavier as you shift it around awkwardly on your shoulders. “Uhh yeah, Jungkook gave it to me ‘cause, uh, I was cold.” Yeah, that’s why he acted the way he did. He was just angry because you might be cold…because that totally makes sense. You sigh inwardly.

“I don’t know about cold, it feels like a hundred degrees in here.” A voice chimes in, making you and Hari turn your heads simultaneously to the right. Dressed casually in a white button-down shirt that’s rolled up loosely at the elbows, a man sits on the bar stool to your right, sporting short jet-black hair, thick but neatly groomed eyebrows, a small, polite smile, and these beautiful obsidian eyes that are currently locked in on yours. Even though he’s sitting, you can tell he’s literally the definition of tall, dark and handsome, enough so to make you wonder why the hell he’s talking to you.

“Oh yeah, it’s like a god-awful sauna in here. In fact, let me go tell Joon, maybe he can get someone to crank up the AC or something.” Hari hurriedly blurts out, jumping from her stool with a knowing twinkle in her eye. She gives your arm a quick squeeze, a silent “good luck!” before taking off, making sure to look back at you every other step of the way. Very subtle.

Just before an awkward silence can ensue, Hoseok comes by to deliver your drink, which you immediately grab and begin to chug hastily, all the while silently praying this guy won’t end up being dud #7. Even if he does, you’re still going to need all the alcohol you can get to survive the rest of the night, what with Jungkook acting all weird, not having even met Soobin yet, or not having mingled with other people yet. The glass still at your lips, the thought causes you to wave your hand in a haphazard signal to Hoseok for another vodka-cran.

“Bit thirsty, aren’t we now?” Damn. Tipping back the last bits, you set the glass down and take in a deep breath, alcohol steadily dissolving in your blood as you ready yourself for whatever is to come. “Ha-ha, yeah,” You croak awkwardly, fidgeting with the glass, “just needed to cool down, ‘cause you know, it’s so hot.”

“Didn’t you just say you were cold?”

You glance down at the light acid wash jacket and momentarily shut your eyes in regret. If it was humanly possibly, you’d kick yourself in the shin for sounding so stupid right off the bat.

“This,” You open your eyes after re-composing yourself and put on a one-hundred-watt smile, “is merely a fashion statement. I was going for the grungy, sexy, hipster look, that’s all.”

“Ah, right, like your friend just said.”

You bite your lip. Okay, it’s official – you fucked up. You should just get up and walk away right now. Save some face and talk to someone else before this gets any more humiliating than it already is. You decide that this can’t go for much longer or else you’ll literally die and wither away from embarrassment. A goodbye is already on your lips and your legs itch to make a run for it when the guy suddenly starts to laugh, his shoulders shaking, while wearing a grin that undoubtedly looks really good on him.

“Wow, alright then.” Looking positively amused, he stretches a hand out to you. “Hi, I’m YoungHo.”

“And you think I’m totally bizarre.” You mumble back, wanting nothing more than to crawl under a rock and die. But YoungHo shakes his head, letting go of his drink to wave his hands at you as well.

“No I don’t, really.”

You raise an eyebrow at him, causing him to cock his head to the side, a lopsided smile on his face.

“I just think you’re kinda… quirky?”

“Oh God, you might as well tell me to go join the Ripley’s Believe It or Not crew.” You groan, propping your elbows on the bar and burying your face into your hands. He’s just being nice and trying to make light conversation and here you are looking like a total buffoon with half a brain cell left. There’s just no way he doesn’t think you’re at least a little insane. Your cheeks feel like burning pieces of coal, the heat effectively setting the rest of your face ablaze along with them.

He laughs again, the sound so deep and rich and honestly quite pleasant to listen to. But sensing your mortification, he quickly begins to cough, clearing his throat to rid of the laughter.

“You know,” He continues, seemingly more composed now, but a smile still twinkles in his eyes, “I used to not be able to understand why people would go see shows like that. They just didn’t seem all that appealing to me. But then I watched The Greatest Showman and man, it totally changed my views. Now I’m dying to go see a show.”

Your ears perk up after hearing the name of one of your favorite movies and you lift your head from your hands, the embarrassment slowly starting to fade away. “Isn’t that movie just amazing? And I totally get what you mean, I wasn’t a huge fan of stuff like that before but now I’m just waiting for something like Ripley’s to come to town so I can snag tickets and reminisce.”

He hums in agreement, “It also hands down has the best soundtrack out there. I think it’s definitely up there with the Lion King and Hamilton.”

You rest your chin on the palm of your hand, your muscles starting to relax a little bit now. “Hamilton tickets are seriously impossible to get. You’ll never guess how many email accounts I made just to try and win lottery tickets.”

“How many?”

“Eleven.”

“Get out of here.”

“No, seriously!”

Before you know it, more drinks are being poured and the conversation is taking off with its new set of wings, all embarrassment now left in the dust of the past. You two continue to chat about movies, which leads to talking about hobbies, favorite places in the city, the best pizza parlor in town (it might just be the alcohol or you’re just really that passionate about your pizza opinions because you two even end up getting into a very heated debate about thin crust versus deep dish). You’re honestly surprised by how natural it feels. Time flies through bouts of laughter and light conversation, and it all ends up being so much easier than you originally thought it’d be. And, this guy has yet to prove himself to be a dud yet. He’s actually very nice – attentive, funny, finds you funny. No joke, the man seems to really enjoy laughing at you. But he assures you that he’s not laughing at you – he’s just laughing at your antics, the peculiar things you say, the never-ending sass tank you’ve got fully loaded and on hand at all times.

At one point when you slam your fist down and insist that deep dish pizza is the only way to go, he tells you to prove it, smoothly asking you out on a pizza date so you two can compare thin crust and deep dish. You almost can’t believe it when he hands your phone back to you, “YoungHo :)” and a phone number illuminating on the bright screen. Things actually seem to be working out for once – you might’ve actually found a normal match!

Two hours of drinks and conversation breezes by before YoungHo tells you he needs to run to the restroom. “Watch my drink?” He smiles, a hand gently resting on the small of your upper back. You nod more furiously than you anticipated, but he doesn’t seem to notice and thanks you, turning to squeeze his way through the crowd.

It feels great to know that things seem to finally be looking up, you would cry if it wasn’t for the fear of ruining Hari’s wonderfully done make up. You do figuratively pat yourself on the back, though. You really did your drunk, 26-year-old self some good by putting yourself out there like this.

YoungHo seems like a decent guy, really. But in the short time you spent getting to know him, you still made sure Hoseok just kept the drinks coming, because no matter how nice of a conversation it was, you were still a little nervous the entire time. With your luck and current track record, things could go wrong at any time, so you needed the help of your good friend alcohol to get you to loosen you up a bit. But it’s only now that you’ve let your guard down a little that the effects of the drinks seem to really be kicking in full force. Only now is the room is starting to spin, your head feeling a lot fuller and fuzzier than before. You swirl Youngho’s whisky glass absentmindedly, sleepily observing the ice spin round and round at the bottom, the motion soothing, almost hypnotizing. If you keep doing this you might actually be able to put yourself to slee-

“You hanging in there alright?”

You startle from your drowsy haze, eyes uncoordinatedly searching for a bit before finally landing on a familiar figure to your right. It’s not YoungHo – this time, it’s a much more familiar person.

“Jeon-bun!” You excitedly coo, cupping your chin with your hands and leaning forward on your elbows to get closer to your best friend, who plops down on the seat next to you. You blink lethargically several times, a dopey grin hanging on your lips. “Why isn’t it my favorite boy, my baby, my love child, my little tulip.”

Jungkook whips his head toward you, the once stoic look on his face now morphed into one of bewilderment. “Tulip? Love child? What the actual- how many drinks have you had?”

“Psh,” You wave a hand carelessly at him, “Like, Monday.”

“Shit, this is bad.” Jungkook groans, carding a hand through his hair. “Monday’s not a number, stupid.”

“Oh, I meant seven, seeeevvveeeen, hehehehehe.”

You’d argue you can handle your alcohol pretty well, with six or seven drinks being your limit. But then again, it’s not like you remember much after having that many drinks, so you can’t really say for sure. According to Jungkook who’s witnessed and endured majority of your drunk episodes with you, that is definitely not the case, but what does he know?

You watch as he squeezes his eyes shut, as if pained about something, and the sight makes you frown. You don’t like seeing your Jungkookie sad, mad, upset or frustrated about anything. Not on your watch.

“HEY!” You shout, startling some people nearby as you press your index fingers onto the corners of his lips, pushing them up until they form a constipated looking smile. “No frowning allowed, nuh uh. My love child is not allowed to be sad. You’re ugly when you’re sad.”

“Oh gee thanks, real confidence booster.”

You let go and pinch his cheeks before letting your arms drop, swaying your head as you hum along to the music that’s playing. You recognize it to be one of Namjoon’s original songs from one of his mixtapes, and it also happens to be one of your favorites, the tune upbeat and catchy. It just serves to lift your drunk spirits even higher. 

“YoungHo’s great, did I tell you that?” You suddenly announce. Eyes closed, you continue to hum as you wait for Jungkook to respond. It feels like it takes longer than usual for him to respond to you, but that could just be you and your impaired sense of time. But he eventually answers, his voice low and even.

“The guy you’ve been talking to all night, his name’s YoungHo, huh.” 

You bob your head up and down, “Yeah, he likes pizza. And I think he likes me. Actually I don’t know yet, we’re gonna go get pizza next week so I’ll find out then.” You giggle, turning from side to side on the bar stool. Sighing happily, you suddenly swivel around to face Jungkook, knees bumping up against his. He flinches at the sudden contact.

“Jungkook-ah.”

“What.”

“I’m so happy.” You sigh again, staring off into space with a dreamy look on your face, not noticing the way Jungkook tenses up, gripping the beer bottle in his hand.

“That so? How come?” He says calmly, though his body reacts in the complete opposite manner. He nervously taps his fingers along the glass of the bottle and bites down on his lower lip, worrying the flesh between his teeth. But you don’t pay attention to it, his actions cloaked by the drunken spell that’s been casted over you.

“Because,” You tilt your head to the side, giving him an even more wistful smile, “pizza exists, Fat Fridays are the best, I finally met a guy who isn’t 58 or a total creep, I have the most amazing friends, and an even more incredible best friend and I love you, Jungkook.” A hiccup mixed with a chuckle escapes you. “I love you, best friend. You know I wouldn’t be able to do life with you, right?”

On a regular night out, drunk you includes the following: increases in smiling frequency, steadily rising volume of laughter, increasing amounts of shouting and passionate declarations, ensuing of blabbering nonsense, and finally, sleepy sappiness to end the night. Basically alcohol brings out your normal personality and amplifies it a few thousand times. Normally, Jungkook’s used to experiencing all your drunk symptoms and isn’t even phased by all the cheesy sap or ridiculousness that tends to spew from your lips. But this time your words hit differently – they strike his bones from an angle he wasn’t prepared to take a blow from. It causes him to swallow past a lump in his throat, and he quickly takes a swig of his beer to help force it down.

“Thought you said you were tired of Fat Fridays, said they made you feel like a retired grandma.” He manages to get out, eyes flitting around nervously.

You place a hand to your chest in feigned offense, “Who, me? I would never say such a thing, Fat Fridays are a blessing from above.” Reaching over, you give Jungkook’s hand a friendly squeeze, his eyes focused on where your hand lies. “I’m just saying that things are perfect the way they are right now, okay. YoungHo and I are getting married, you and I will keep the Fat Friday tradition alive, and everything will be happy and wonderful for the rest of our lives.”

“Married?!” Jungkook nearly spits out the sip of beer he had just taken and chokes back on a cough. “I think you need to take like eighty-six steps back and stop jumping to conclusions for a second, ___.” He scoffs in disbelief, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “You barely even know the guy.”

“I know enough about him, trust me.” You drunkenly wave his judgment away. “Anyways, where’s Soobin? You did bring her, right? I want to meet her already, you asshole!”

Jungkook sighs and fights the urge to roll his eyes, even as you give his arm a spiteful pinch. “Calm down, she’s using the restroom. I’ll introduce her once she gets ba-”

“I’m here, babe.”

At the sound of the unfamiliar voice, your eyes shoot open. You immediately spin around and hop off the bar stool, steadying yourself on the seat cushion once your feet hit the ground because apparently alcohol has the power to turn your legs into jelly. You squint a little in an attempt to get your vision to focus. Through the drunken fog, you’re able to make out a set of cat-like eyes, pink thinly pursed lips, a cascade of perfect ringlets of caramel curls, and a tight blue body-con dress hugging a slim, petite figure. This must be her, this must be-

“Soobin!” You squeal elatedly, taking the girl’s hands into yours, proceeding to shake them up and down furiously. “It’s soooo nice to finally meet you.” You let go of one hand to jerk a thumb at Jungkook. “This asshat’s been keeping us in the dark for so long when it comes to you, so I’m so happy to finally be able to meet you!”

You look back and forth between Jungkook and Soobin like an overly excited puppy that needs to pee. But you can’t help it, you’re finally meeting the girl that Jungkook has deemed worthy of his affections, so of course it’s a huge moment for you, for all of you. Best friend meets girlfriend, girlfriend meets best friend. It does makes you feel a little weird though, seeing the person who is apparently his girlfriend stand by his side. Whatever this feeling is, it’s definitely…foreign. But you’re too caught up in the excitement to really care – you just hope it’s a moment you won’t forget because of your frenemy Mr. Vodka-Cran. Screw him.

“Um, hi, it’s nice to meet you too.” The girl says uneasily, leaning a bit closer to Jungkook. “You must be ___.”

Your jaw drops open unattractively as you jab a finger at your own chest. “You know who I am?!”

“Jungkook talks about you a lot.” Soobin states matter-of-factly, her demeanor cool and calm – almost too cool and calm. You feel the need to introduce her to Mr. Vodka-Cran.

“Aw, does he really now?” You affectionately pat Jungkook on the cheek, who rolls his eyes when you coo at him. “I’m his best friend – actually, the best friend he could ever ask for – so I’m not surprised. But still happy to hear it.” You focus your attention back on Soobin, your eyes sparkling. “So, tell me about yourself! How did you and Jungkook meet? Oh wait, silly me, I already know you met on Tinder, duh! What I meant to say is, how’s it going? Are you guys happy together?” You suddenly gasp, “Are you guys going to get married?! Oh my gosh, congratulations! I can’t wait to tell the others-”

The rest of your words come out as a muffled, unintelligible mess from behind Jungkook’s hand. He knows better than to let the “blabbing nonsense” stage get any worse. It takes you an extra long second to register what’s happening but when you finally do, you give him a repulsed look before licking his palm in revenge, causing him to draw his hand back reflexively.

“O-kay, I think that’s enough ‘getting to know each other’ time.” He cringes, wiping the spit off on his dark denim jeans. “Uh, so yeah, ___ this is Soobin, Soobin this is ___.” He turns to Soobin, looking apologetic, “Sorry you have to meet ___ when she’s butt-drunk like this. Normally she’s a little off her rocker but I swear she’s not this crazy all the time.”

“Ah, I see.”

“Well that’s kind of a bummer to hear.”

Cheeks flushed, you whirl around and are greeted by another one of YoungHo’s amused smiles and he leisurely strides over to where you guys are standing. It feels like he’s been gone for forever; you nearly forgot about him for a second there. You wonder if he was really in the bathroom for that long or if alcohol just slows time down that much.

“YoungHo,” You beam, raising a hand up in salutation, before directing it towards the couple beside you, “this is my best friend and pet bunny, Jungkook. And this,” you gesture towards Soobin, “is his girlfriend Soobin! Aren’t they just precious?”

YoungHo bites his lips to hold back a bout of laughter, obviously having not expected your level of inebriety to increase this much in the few minutes he was gone. But he lets his manners go ahead of him, extending a hand out to Jungkook. “Pleasure’s mine, I’m YoungHo, a… new friend of ___’s.”

Jungkook stares at the man’s hand like it’s his first time seeing a hand and he doesn’t quite know what to do with it. He stills, the booming music and surrounding chattering conversations blurring together messily in the background. You may be far from sober, but even you can feel the palpable awkwardness, and you frantically wonder why he’s just letting this stretch of silence pass on by without saying anything. It’s so awkward, YoungHo’s expression starts to shift into an uncomfortable one, his outstretched hand wavering slightly. Your eyes quickly flicker to Soobin, who looks just as puzzled as you feel, and out of anxious discomfort you inwardly start to chant you shake it, you dimwit, shake it!

After a few more excruciating moments of tension, the man seems to finally figure out how to operate his own hand and takes YoungHo’s into his, the handshake looking really firm – almost painfully firm. But at least he finally shook his damn hand and put all of you out of your collective awkward misery.

From beneath slightly narrowed eyes, Jungkook makes silent eye contact with YoungHo before he mutters a greeting and briskly lets go, shoving his hand into his pocket. You remind yourself to give Jungkook a lesson on basic manners after this night is finally over with.

“Allllllrighty then!” You chirp, clapping your hands together to break up the strange atmosphere. “Friends, girlfriends, tulips – everyone’s been introduced. This calls for celebration! And more alcohol!” In your trek back towards the bar, you somehow manage to trip over your own foot, gravity pulling your body forward in a sudden jerk that has you falling towards the gleaming wood surface. But luckily a hand, no, two hands grab your arms and quickly hoist you up, your eyes rolling around dizzily in your head from all the movement. Blinking in a daze, you turn to your left and right and see Jungkook and YoungHo holding onto you, wearing similarly concerned expressions on their faces.

“Well thank god I have the two of you to save me from banging up my face, haha!” A hiccup leaves your lips, but soon turns into a giddy giggle, followed by more hiccups. At this point, you don’t have enough sober left in you to even think about feeling embarrassed. You just grin stupidly, happy as can be.  

“Okay, no more drinks for you. I think it’s time to go home.” Jungkook enforces sternly, pulling you away from the bar and consequently out of YoungHo’s grip as well. The event must really be taking off now because it’s much more difficult to hear his voice over the pulsating bass and rowdy cheering than before. In the distance you see a circle of people cheering on a group of break dancers who are spinning around on the floor and showing off their fancy, intricate dance moves. More and more people are squeezed onto the dance floor now, swaying their bodies to the music in one massive clump of body heat and sweat, the beat and blanket of intoxication fully taking control of the atmosphere. There’s just no way you’re can leave now, not when the party’s just getting started.

“No.” Jungkook says scoldingly, reading your mind before you can even think of protesting. “I already know what you’re thinking. Trust me, you’re gonna thank me tomorrow when you get a full night’s sleep and your hangover is ten times better than it would’ve been.”

“But Jeonnie,” You whine unapologetically, giving him an annoyed pout. “Just because you want to go home doesn’t mean I want to go home yet. Some of us just want to live our lives, you party pooper!” You swing your hand at his chest but completely miss, stumbling forward when you hit nothing but air. This time YoungHo is quicker to react and his hands are on your waist before you even realize you’re falling, his grip steadying you on your feet.

“Actually, I think that might be a good idea, ___.” YoungHo agrees gently, trying hard not to smile at your sulky frown that just grows larger and cuter by the second. “Might be a good time to call it a night, gotta keep you from breaking an arm or something. Come on, I’ll give you a ride home.” In your drunk stupor, you still get startled when Jungkook suddenly steps forward, wearing an expression you don’t think you’ve ever seen on him before.

“No it’s all good, I’ll take her home.” Though he stands tall, his words come out in a nervous rush. The nervousness in his voice sounds so unlike him, so uncharacteristic of him. He must realize how hasty he sounded because he’s suddenly scratching the back of his neck, eyes flitting around awkwardly. “I mean, I’ve taken care of her drunk self plenty of times in the past, so I’m used to it. She can just be a real beast to deal with once the alcohol fully hits.”

Your face twists in offense, “Uh, excuse you Mr. Jeon-balaya-”

“No really, it’s fine,” YoungHo cuts in, stepping forward as well to match Jungkook’s stance. “I don’t mind at all. I’m completely sobered up and my car’s parked right up front. Besides,” he eyes Soobin who’s been standing there all along, quiet as a mouse, before shifting back to Jungkook, “you should take care of your girlfriend, no?”

Maybe it’s just your eyes playing tricks on you, but you swear you see Jungkook’s hands ball up into fists at his side. He looks ticked, again, just like earlier when he first saw your outfit. But at the same time, your best friend, whom you can usually read like a book, faces the other man completely stone-faced, blank of any real emotion, and truthfully it comes across as a bit scary. This night just gets stranger and stranger by the minute. 

You think the unbearable awkward tension is back, but this time you can’t really tell for sure. They continue to stare at each other like there’s some sort of show down to be had, and it soon becomes too much for your inebriated brain to comprehend. All you know for sure is that just as Jungkook predicted, the alcohol is really starting to hit you now. You know you’re standing still but it feels like the world is tipping sideways on its axis just to throw you off balance. The strong bass hammers in your ear and shakes you from the inside out in a way that makes your stomach churn uneasily, like Mr. Vodka-Cran is about to take his revenge on you. For the first time that night, you agree with the both of them – maybe it is time to go home.

“Jungkook,” Soobin suddenly speaks up after not having said a single word in the last ten minutes, “just let the man take her home. You were planning on staying at my place tonight anyway, no?” You bring a hand to your head as if it’ll help alleviate the headache that’s starting to pound away at your skull. Why does Soobin sound upset too? Did you do something wrong? What the hell is going on? Where are your goddamn pajamas ‘cause you really need to pass the fuck out ASAP.

Sensing your growing discomfort, YoungHo reaches for your purse on the bar stool and slings it over your shoulder, looking down at you worriedly. “_­__­ really doesn’t look too good, I think we should head out. I’ll let her friend know we’re leaving, and I’ll be sure to get her home safe. It was nice meeting you both.” With a hand on the small of your back, he leads you away from a shell-shocked Jungkook and an equally upset-looking Soobin, moving forward through the hordes of people, not letting you turn back to look even once. You just hope all of this, whatever this was, will be cleared up by morning.  

- - - - -   

Things aren’t the same after that night at the Sound Bar.

Thankfully, you wake up the next day alone and in your own bed, the other half of it empty and fortunately unoccupied. You end up nursing a nasty hangover for the next two days after that night, your recovery weekend filled with lots of pedialyte, tylenol, and soup to keep your poor stomach at bay. It’s frustrating because no matter how hard you try to remember, that night is just one big drunken blur in your memory. Luckily Hari, who had been nearby at the time and witnessed it all go down, helps fill you in on everything that happened. You immediately spam Jungkook’s phone afterwards with apology texts, asking him to deliver your sincerest apologies to Soobin as well for being so rude and insane that night (you swear to never talk to Mr. Vodka-Cran ever again, that bastard). But strangely, there’s no reply. You vaguely remember him saying he was going to spend the night at Soobin’s place, so you figure he’s just busy spending his weekend with her. It’s no big deal, he’ll get back to you in a few days and things will soon be all settled and forgiven.

He eventually texts back to tell you it’s fine, but that he’s got a busy week ahead of him. The deadline for his demos are coming up, and apparently he’s super far behind and has a ton of shit to catch up on. You were hoping he’d be free so you���d be able to at least apologize to him one more time, in person. But you don’t get to see him, and Fat Friday doesn’t happen that week. Again, not the end of the world. He’s an adult, he’s got adult responsibilities to take care of, and it’s totally normal to not see your friend’s face for a week. Well, not normal for you, but you figure it’s normal in general.

The following week, Jungkook says he’s still swamped with work. You tell him you’ll go to his place to keep him some company in his misery, promising not to distract him too much and even offering to bring take-out, which happens maybe once in a blue moon. But he declines your offer (he says no to take-out!) and insists he really needs to be alone and concentrate. Though his rejection leaves a slight sting, his reasons are understandable – the producer life isn’t an easy one and knowing how much of a perfectionist Jungkook is, that life is probably just that much more difficult for him. It’s a very reasonable excuse.

Before you know it, two weeks go by, and it’s onto week three. His text replies are becoming sparse and each successive one sounds less and less like him. His apologies are half-hearted at best and he repeatedly blames it on the stress he was dealing with. But he says the demos are finally in, and that he’s free for the next few weeks before he starts up on another project. You ignore the fact that he’s been acting off, your desire to see your best friend trumping his unusual behavior, and text him to get his “fat ass ready for wings and some Thor action, cuz it’s Fat Friday baby!” hoping deep down inside that he won’t turn you down again this week. But to your utter shock, he does, this time with the excuse of needing to tend to his very neglected girlfriend. Another slap of rejection. But it makes sense that if he didn’t have any time for his own girlfriend, then he definitely didn’t have time for you. Of course he’d want to spend quality time with her to make up for the time he was gone. Of course.

So in those three rather empty weeks, you fill your time in other ways. The day after meeting at the Sound Bar, YoungHo texts you to set up your pizza date. Instead of lounging around at home like you normally do with some superhero movie on Netflix and Jungkook hogging up majority of the sofa with his body, you spend the evening going to two different pizza places with YoungHo. It ends up being a nice first date, one which concludes with you reluctantly admitting that thin crust is actually pretty bomb too (but you still pledge your loyalty to deep dish forever). The conversation still flows nicely with him as you both continue to get to know more about one another. Turns out, YoungHo’s a friend of a friend of Namjoon’s and works as some fancy business manager for some even fancier big-shot business company in the city. Strangely enough, this new tidbit of information makes you instantly think of Jungkook, who in his college days, once passionately declared he’d rather die than be stuck at a boring office job for the rest of his life. He sure is a man of his word, seeing how he kept to it and now is doing what he truly loves to do – producing and making music.

The second week, YoungHo surprises you by taking you to see Hamilton, the musical. Apparently, his company offers discount prices on certain events like musicals, and he managed to get seats in the orchestra pit for dirt cheap. He was worried it’d be too fancy and serious for the third date, but you’re just thrilled that you finally get to see the musical in real life, rather than just listening to the soundtrack on Spotify on repeat and creating an imaginary musical inside your head. The show ends up being even more amazing than you could ever describe with words. The songs, the dialogue, the characters – it’s a night that will be forever embedded in your memories. You know you just have to take Jungkook to see it the next time the Hamilton crew is back in town – you know he would love it just as much as you did.

The third week you offer to make YoungHo dinner at your apartment for date five, to change things up a little. He’s been so generous and proactive with planning all the previous dates, you feel like it’s the least you can do to show some effort on your part. So you invite him over and prepare a fancy steak and roasted vegetable dinner that you copped off a Tasty recipe. After dinner, you turn on the Hamilton soundtrack as YoungHo pours out two glasses of wine and continues the conversation about favorite childhood memories. He sits up properly on the sofa, one leg crossed over the other as he animatedly reminisces about the time he accidentally called the fire department thinking he was calling his mom. You smile and nod at his story and make sure to laugh at the right times, but for some reason, you can’t help but think about how he’s sitting. It’s an odd thought to have, but it bothers you throughout the night – it just looks too proper, too upright. If Jungkook were here, you think, he’d be sprawled out all over your couch, legs and arms hanging over the edges and you’d have to shove him off or prop his feet up on your lap just so you could sit. Then you’d make a comment about his feet smelling like a dead animal and he’d pounce on you and tickle you until you’re breathless and admitting surrender. But that’s if Jungkook were here. He hasn’t been here in weeks.

The days, hours, and minutes, crawl by at a snail pace until it’s finally week four since you’ve seen Jungkook. Now, there’s just – nothing. No legit or even half-assed excuses to explain for his prolonged absence. It seems like he’s even given up replying to your texts, seeing as though you were left on read three days ago.

You start to think that maybe this is just what it feels like to grow up. That adult friendships are just starkly different from younger ones, where you have all the care-free time in the world to hang out and talk and do nothing together. Maybe this is how adult friends end up becoming more distant from each other. Life starts to demand too much, significant others are put at the higher end of the priority list, and something has to suffer for the new change in the hierarchy. If that’s the case and that’s what this is, then you conclude that being an adult sucks, and you want no part of it anymore.

You don’t even realize you’re lost in your own thoughts until YoungHo says your name, snapping you out of it and back to reality. He was in the middle of explaining what was going on in the baseball game you two were watching at his place when you started to space out, traveling down the sad, dark rabbit hole you hate to admit you’ve kind of been living in for the past month. Now that your head is out of the clouds, you wince at the sight of the baseball game on the TV. Jungkook loves baseball. You wonder if he’s out there somewhere watching this game too.

The TV suddenly goes black. Youngho’s hand lowers the remote control onto the coffee table before he turns to you, one leg crossed over the only, polite and proper as usual. You can already tell by the look on his face that he has a question on his lips, ready to fire away.

“What’s been going on with you lately, ___?”

You blink a couple of times, not liking where this conversation is going. “What do you mean? Nothing’s up.” Even you don’t think your words sound convincing to your own ears.

YoungHo sighs. “These past few dates, I’ve caught you staring off into space multiple times, looking so sad and out of it.” He furrows his brows in concern. “Do you not even realize it yourself?”

You bite your lower lip. You know you’ve been feeling a bit gloomy and really out of it these last few weeks, you just didn’t realize you were blanking out that often – especially in front of YoungHo. And even if you were, you thought you were at least hiding it well. Guess not.

“Alright,” He shifts to sit closer to you, folding his hands in his lap, “Tell me what’s really going on.”

You almost laugh at that because frankly, you don’t know what’s going on yourself. Work’s been the same, you’ve been sleeping alright – not as soundly as normal but getting enough to function – and maybe your diet has been a little cleaner now that you haven’t had any greasy take-out food for the last month, but honestly that’s the biggest recent change you can think of – Jungkook’s absence. Just the thought of him makes your heart twinge. You miss Jungkook’s stupid face so much, the thought of him and his stupid voice and his stupid comments and his stupid presence have had you tossing and turning at night for the past few weeks. Every time your phone rings, every time you crave take-out or come home from work and just want to pass out on the sofa with a movie, you automatically think of him and wonder how he’s doing, if he’s doing okay, if he got enough sleep while pulling his hair out over deadlines – you wonder if he even remembers you exist anymore.

You shake your head, squeezing your eyes shut momentarily to block out the pain. “I- I really don’t know, honest.” You admit the half of the truth, because you really aren’ts sure what to make of these thoughts and feelings you have for your best friend yourself. But it’s like YoungHo can read your mind, or maybe, you’re just that easy to read.

“It’s Jungkook, isn’t it?”

Shocked, you look up at him, lips parted to match your expression. “W-what?”

“___, you can’t fool me.” YoungHo sighs again, looking obviously frustrated, but he somehow manages to maintain a level tone, and his eyes look gentle as ever. “Ever since our first date, you haven’t been able to stop talking about him. Jungkook this, Jungkook that – it was never ending. I know you two are best friends and all, but honestly I was shocked when all you would do is talk about your male best friend ninety-five percent of the time even while on a date with another man.” He pauses for a moment, his gaze softening. “Not to mention you just look so down nowadays, I figured it must have something to do with him.”

Your eyes are still saucer-wide as YoungHo searches them carefully, his expression sullen. The way he does it is scarily similar to how Jungkook does it. Maybe this whole time you were wrong and Jungkook was actually the one who could always read you like a book, and not the other way around. But like your best friend, YoungHo seems to find whatever answer he needs as he inhales, the sound a bit shaky, as if to compose himself for what he’s about to say next.

“You love him, don’t you?”

It’s more of a statement than it is a question. In fact, the way he says it makes it sound like it’s so obvious, like hey the sky is blue, dogs are cute, you love Jungkook. It rolls off the tip of his tongue like a cold, hard fact rather than just a mere hypothesis that needs further testing. It shakes you at your core and makes your head spin, and the confusion is simply overwhelming.

It is an obvious fact that you love Jungkook – he’s your best friend, the one who’s been by your side for so many years now and knows you better than anyone else, even more than Hari or your own parents. He knows what makes you tick, and then he knows what really makes you tick and goes the extra length to make sure no one ever gets to that point with you, including himself. He always knows just the words to say to comfort you, or just the joke to crack to lighten up the mood and make you smile. Without fail he’s like your giant Care Bear, just maybe less fuzzy wuzzy up front. He’s dealt with drunk you, post-break-up-crying-over-ice-cream-you, low self confidence you, lost in life you, all the parts of you that you didn’t even want to bother with – Jungkook embraced them all. He’s been the most stable constant in your life. Yet in the past, you never really considered him in a romantic way, mostly due to the awkward start you two had and how long it took to get over that hill. And even after you did, then you started dating your college boyfriend. There was no time to even think about looking at him in that way – so you never did.

But YoungHo’s words ring unmistakably loud and clear in your ears, and suddenly there’s so much pulling and pushing of your emotions happening all at once. It’s like the boulder of sorrow weighing on your heart lightens up only to hang down even heavier now after hearing his words, like a fog has lifted to unveil your true feelings while your heart still runs around in circles, frantically lost, so confused and caught off guard. His words are a real sucker punch to the gut that you didn’t see coming, one that leaves you breathless, because never did you imagine that this would be the issue you would have with Jungkook. Arguing over what to get for take-out? Of course. Bickering over who the better looking person is? All the time. Cussing one another out in Mario Kart? A regular occurrence. But falling in love with your best friend? Never in your dreams.

You clench your hands into fists on top of your thighs. It almost feels like you’re going to cry for some reason, maybe from just feeling overwhelmed by it all. But whether they’d be tears of joy or frustration, you have no clue. It just doesn’t make sense. You can’t just wake up one morning and suddenly love your best friend in a completely different way, it doesn’t work like that. But the more you think about it, the more you realize it didn’t happen overnight – none of this did. No, all those times he let you cry on his shoulder, whether it was because of your college boyfriend or because of a bad grade, all those moments he paused his video games just to talk with you about life, about nothing, til the wee hours of the morning, all those times he fought with you for the last crab rangoon like his life depended on it, only to give in and let you have it in the end – it’s in all these little moments that you didn’t realize you were slowly falling for the boy with the doe eyes, the smart mouth, and a heart of pure gold.

YoungHo is right – you are completely and undeniably in love with Jungkook.

These last four weeks have been hell, missing Jungkook so much more than you ever thought you would. The feeling is ten times worse than that one time junior year, when he went to a music camp for two weeks in the mountains with no phone service or wifi signal. You koala-ed him for nearly a week after he came back and demanded he never lose contact with you for that long ever again. This time is definitely much worse. This time, his absence had been constantly gnawing at you – a bitter, lonely, slow spreading infection eating away at your insides bit by bit, eventually leaving a gaping hole that wouldn’t be easy to patch up. It’s strange because the more time passed without his presence and the more you saw YoungHo’s face instead, the more often Jungkook’s would pop up in your head, as if to torture you even more in your misery. But now it all makes sense why that was happening.

Even in this very moment, you still miss those big, brown, doe eyes of his with all your heart, and the way his nose wrinkles adorably when he laughs or smiles, along with that brilliant smile itself– seriously, when was the last time you even saw the light? You miss the sight of his big hoodie clad figure splayed out on your couch and being able to banter with him and make him snort with the ridiculousness that spews from your mouth, you miss calling him names and immediately getting insulted back. You miss having his head or even his feet on your lap with Hulk playing in the background. You miss him so much, it hurts.

So much that you finally decide that enough is enough.  

“YoungHo,” You begin after who knows how long, your voice sounding more stable now. “I think I- I need to go.” Too busy filtering through the complicated web of thoughts and emotions, you didn’t even notice the way YoungHo’s expression completely changed since the start of the night until now. His expression is soft but there’s a sense of solemn acknowledgment in his eyes, and you can just feel his disappointment, the weight of reality sinking down on his shoulders. But his lips pull up into a somber smile as he stands up from the sofa and watches you follow his motion, your head hung low in shame.

“I’m so sorry, I’m a horrible person,” You blubber, feeling genuinely guilty, “I’m sorry I’ve wasted so much of your time and efforts and that I’m dumb as fuck and didn’t realize this sooner to avoid all this unnecessary misery. But I just want you to know that I had an amazing time hanging out with you. You’re an awesome guy, YoungHo, and I mean no bullshit when I say that I hope we can stay friends.” You find the courage to look up and directly into his eyes, eyes glistening with remorse. “I really mean that with all of my heart.”

He offers you a smile and it’s small, but to your relief, it’s genuine, and that helps to ease the guilt a little. “Whenever you’re craving thin crust, I’m always just a call away.” He cocks his head towards the door, “Now get out of here and stop being miserable already. Go, before I change my mind.”

You stand on your tiptoes to leave a light peck to his cheek, giving his arm a squeeze before you’re out the door, rushing towards the elevators while fumbling around with your phone to call an uber.

Jungkook may be busy and have more important people and things to tend to, but that doesn’t change the fact that that bastard neglected you and your friendship for an entire month now, that just the thought of him still makes your stomach churn with something miserable and painfully empty, though it feels different in the light of these new feelings you’ve discovered. But at this point, your feelings don’t even matter. And screw all of this “normal progression of adult friendships” crap. All you know is that no matter how you feel, no matter how he feels about you, in the end, you just want your best friend back – you need Jungkook back in your life.

- - - - -   

[7:34PM] You: joon

[7:34PM] You: where the hell has jeon been lately?

[7:35PM] You: bugger won’t reply to my texts and i rly need to talk to him

[7:36PM] Joonie: uhh, lately?

[7:36PM] Joonie: at home

[7:37PM] Joonie: playing overwatch

[7:39PM] You: ……

[7:40PM] You: what

[7:40PM] You: the actual

[7:40PM] You: fuck

[7:42PM] Joonie: what?

[7:44PM] You: for the last 4 weeks

[7:44PM] You: i thought he was busy dying over his demos and hanging out w/ soobin

[7:44PM] You: but he’s been ditching me for OVERWATCH?

[7:46PM] Joonie: well he was dying

[7:47PM] Joonie: he just turned in his demos not too long ago

[7:48PM] You: i’m gonna kick his sorry ass

[7:50PM] Joonie: wait

[7:52PM] You: what

[7:53PM] Joonie: you mean you don’t know?

[7:54PM] Joonie: jungkook didn’t tell you?

[7:55PM] You: ugh what now

[7:56PM] Joonie: dude

[7:58PM] Joonie: jungkook and soobin broke up like a month ago

- - - - -   

“Jungkook!” A breathless shout leaves your lips as you barge through your best friend’s bedroom door, flailing it open and simultaneously scaring the living daylights out of the owner of said bedroom. His hunched figure at the desk jumps up and whirls around at the sound of your voice as his headphones slide off one ear haphazardly.

“Holy Widowmaker, yes hi, hello, shit you scared me.” He exhales all in one breath, eyes still enlarged and mouth hanging slightly ajar. Judging by the look of surprise bordering sheer terror on his face, he definitely wasn’t expecting you. But then again, he doesn’t look like he was expecting anyone, really. He’s wearing a black hoodie that’s one size too big for him and matching colored basketball shorts, the oversized hood pulled up over mussed chestnut hair, and it honestly looks like he hasn’t moved to shower, change, or just move at all. But he still somehow looks so good like that, bits of his wavy hair falling into those warm hazelnut eyes, plump lips parted slightly – so unfairly and effortlessly handsome. It’s a mystery how you faced this man for so many years and somehow remained immune to his gorgeous looks alone (well, as long as he was fully clothed).  

“Wow,” You manage to get out between rapid breaths from quite literally running straight to Jungkook’s apartment from YoungHo’s place. You glance at his computer monitor before focusing back on him. “You really are playing Overwatch.”

He tilts his head in confusion. “Uh, why yes, I am?”

The urge to smack him for giving such a lame and frustratingly obvious answer is strong, but since he doesn’t understand the context from which you state this, you decide to spare him from your wrath for the time being, putting away the fists of fury for now as you march over to where he’s sitting in his fancy black and red, almost half cocoon-shaped gaming chair.

“How are you Jungkook? How’ve you been lately?” The questions roll off your tongue icily, eyes narrowing into slits that are meant to be intimidating, but it doesn’t look like it does all that much to Jungkook. From the way his eyes are still bulging out comically, it seems he still hasn’t fully gotten over the shock from your grand entrance as he mumbles a dazed “uh alright, how ‘bout you?” under his breath.

“Oh good, I’m glad, just so glad.” Sarcasm drips from your voice, and it’s hard to keep it from shaking. “And me? Oh well I’m just peachy – feeling fan-fucking-tastic.”

“You sure ‘bout that?” He queries, crinkling his nose in disagreement and looking too cute for his own good, “‘cause you sure as hell don’t sound or look like it.”

“Oh no, really, I’m just dandy!” Hands on your hips, you raise a brow at him and click your tongue once, “I’m just thrilled to see my best friend again after he avoided me for four weeks straight without any solid explanation as to why. It’s nice to see you’re still alive and kicking virtual ass, that’s all.” Slowly slipping his headphones off and setting them besides his mouse on the desk, Jungkook hesitantly rises to his feet, looking guilty, apologetic, but also slightly frustrated as he approaches you. He chooses to stand a few feet away, hands slipping into his pockets as he shifts his gaze to the floor. You can just feel this new barrier separating the two of you, and that realization hurts, especially since you still have no idea why he’s been acting so damn weird around you lately.

His lower lip is caught between his teeth, his eyes flitting around nervously as he contemplates what to say, how to explain the mess that was the last four weeks in order for it to make sense to you. But you’ll wait as long as it takes to hear him out and to resolve this issue. You’ve already waited four weeks, what’s another couple of seconds, minutes, or hours more? What else do you have left to lose?

You decide to help him out, though. You’re not sure it’s the best move to make, but you know it’ll get the job done and get the ball rolling for sure. So you bite the bullet and go for it, your voice much quieter and timid than before.

“How- how have you and Soobin been doing?”

It goes completely silent in the room safe for the almost inaudible sound of breathing and your heart beat pounding against your ear drums; besides that, it’s so quiet you would probably be able to hear a pin drop if one did. A thick tension begins to cloud the air that lies between you two as you wait for him to answer, for him to finally admit that he’s been lying, for him to stop with the bullshit and tell you what’s really going on with him. And after a few more excruciating moments, you begin to see him come around. It starts with how he squeezes his eyes shut and bites down on his lower lip even harder, staying like that for a few moments, the regret so evident in his expression. He knows he’s been caught red handed – that there’s no more escaping this conversation.

“Who told you?” Jungkook finally grits out, a low murmur under his breath as he trains his sights on the floor boards.

“Well, not you, that’s for sure.” You answer, the soft tone of your voice contrasting the sting that accompanies that comment. “Since you weren’t replying to my texts, I asked Namjoon about where the hell you’ve been lately, and he just suddenly dropped the bomb on me.” When all he does is continue to stare at the floor some more, you sigh, trying to cover up the way your lip quivers. You hate this weird awkwardness between you, and you want nothing more than for things to be okay again between you two – it’s driving you absolutely insane.

“What’s been going on these past few weeks, Jungkook?” You push on, silently begging for him to just give in already.

“___, I,” Jungkook stutters, raking a hand through his hair, the movement pushing his hoodie off his head to fully reveal his face. When the dim light from the lamp hits his face, only then do you realize just how haggard he looks. It’s almost like he hasn’t been getting very good sleep, much like yourself this past month. “I’ve just been… really busy.”

“Wrong answer, try again.” You refuse to lose to his stubbornness, not when you’ve come this far, not when things have escalated this much, not when your friendship feels like its dangling on its last fraying thread. He’s stubborn, but you’re a Taurus, and you are hell-bent on getting answers out of him, even if it means just standing there staring at him all night. You need to break down this new all he’s built up against you – it’s all you can think to do to get your best friend back.

Jungkook must sense your unwillingness to back down because he suddenly runs a hand down his face, a heavy sigh resonating from his chest. He knows this is all unavoidable – that now’s the time to lay it all out on the table. So he does, and nothing can prepare you for what he’s about to say.

“I was scared.”

Not expecting that answer at all, your brows furrow together in concern, and you feel your hands itching to just reach out and hold Jungkook, who can’t seem to lift his head and for once just looks so small. “Scared? Of what?”

“I, I thought I had more time,” He peeks out from under his eyelashes, lips forming a grim line, “more time left with you.”

Confusion fills your expression. “You make it sound like I’m dying and only have a few days left to live or something. What do you mean you thought you had more time?”

Jungkook clenches his jaw. It’s obvious that bringing all of his thoughts and feelings to the surface is proving to be a lot harder than it may seem. His hands keep curling into fists and unfurling over and over, the movement full of anxiety and tension. But then to your relief he finally speaks, breaking the silence with his quiet confession.

“For so many years, it’s just been me and you, and honestly, I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He starts off, voice soft and hesitant. “Even after college, we still somehow made it a routine to see each other at least what, twice a week? And then somehow Fat Fridays became a thing, our thing, and just having you by my side became enough for me. That’s all I ever needed.” His expression twists into one of distress, his brows knitting together, “Then all of a sudden, Hari and Tae convince you to start searching for a boyfriend to help with your quarter life crisis, and before I can even blink, you’re off on your first blind date who ends up being some dude that doesn’t know how to shut up to save his life.” You cringe inwardly at the thought of Date #1, doing your best to not let it show on your face for fear of interrupting Jungkook’s flow. Luckily he doesn’t seem to notice it and continues on, taking a cautious step towards you 

“So what choice did I have left? I didn’t know what to do with myself, so I somehow ended up downloading a couple of those dating apps you were using and made my own profile. And as you know, that’s how I met Soobin.” Jungkook smiles sadly, scoffing quietly to himself. “I – I had to fill the void somehow. And she seemed cool, liked anime, and she was pretty so I figured, why not give it a shot? If you were out there giving all those losers a chance, I might as well do the same.”

“Wait,” You interrupt him, pinching the bridge of your nose in confusion, “so you only dated Soobin because I was dating other guys?” He nods solemnly, shame filling his expression. “But why? Just because you thought I wouldn’t have time for you anymore?” Heart clenching inside your chest, you reach out to take a hold of his hand, “Jeon, you should’ve talked to me about this instead of avoiding me like the plague. You need to know that no matter what, I will always have time for you. You’re my best friend, and there’s no one else I can do Fat Fridays with – there is always time for you in my life.”

“No, that’s not it.” Jungkook interjects quietly, shoulders sagging like the energy is being sapped out of him. The sadness etched in his eyes make your heart sink even further – it makes you afraid to hear the rest of what he has to say.

He inhales deeply, involuntarily tightening his grip on your hand. “I was always afraid it’d happen one day, losing you to another guy. But honestly, I thought I still had time. When your first few online dates flopped, I was so relieved because it still meant I had time left with you. But then,” He exhales, his expression hardening slightly, “this YoungHo guy comes out of nowhere and sweeps you off your feet, makes you laugh and looks at you like he’s hit the jackpot and it just made me feel sick to the stomach. Then he offers to take you home,” Jungkook lets out a short laugh, the sound incredulous and wounded at the edges, “and that was the cherry on top. In that moment, I didn’t care if Soobin was there, I didn’t even care that she was my girlfriend at the time, as horrible as that may sound – all I knew was that some other guy was taking you home, and I just couldn’t take it anymore.”

“It felt like all of my worst nightmares were coming true. You looked like you were so into him, and he looked just as smitten with you, and when he left with you that night, I thought ‘wow, this is it.’” Jungkook closes his eyes briefly in anguish, as if just saying the words themselves is painful for him. “I thought ‘this is how I lose her – this is how I officially run out of time with the one girl I need in my life. I’m such a coward for not saying something sooner, for not taking the risk and just going for it. This – this is it.’”

Jungkook slowly looks up to meet your eyes, watching as tears gather at the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill over at any second. All this time, your best friend was fighting in a silent battle against his fears and insecurities, and the worst part is that those fears and insecurities involved you. You were so dumb and blind and really had no idea this is what was happening to him this whole time. But it’s all starting to make sense now. Why he was so upset that night at the Sound Bar. Why he was making up excuses to avoid you. Why he’s been hiding for the last month – it was to avoid having this very conversation. He thinks this is the last night he’ll ever have with you.

“That night, I went back to Soobin’s place and man, she let me have it.” Jungkook chuckles, the sound not happy in the least bit. “She was pissed, and rightly so. She told me she didn’t get why I was even dating her in the first place when it was obvious that all I cared about was you.” Giving your hand a gentle squeeze, Jungkook steps closer so that now, finally, his toes line up with yours, his body towering over you and dark eyes searching yours intently, as you take in his scent that smells like home, and it helps to ease the sharp sting in your heart a little. His other hand finds yours so that he’s holding them both, so gently within his palms, thumbs tracing your knuckles gently, affectionately.

“If you don’t get it by now, even after all I’ve said, then you’re a real idiot.” Jungkook jokes lightly, but his muscles are tense and shoulders hang heavily in stark contrast to his words. “But you’re also a moron for not realizing that I’ve been in love with you ever since you kicked my ass in Mario Kart freshman year of college.”

It took you all these years, a quarter-life-crisis, several horrible blind dates, and even a potential boyfriend to get your eyes to finally open and truly see what Jungkook has just confirmed for you. It’s just that when someone is by your side that often, that regularly, it becomes natural to have them there, to have their presence nearby almost at all times and it’s so nice not having to question it. It’s so easy to get comfortable and not consider any other ideas or feelings because why do that when what you’ve got is already so good? Why venture into dangerous territory when life is great in the safe zone? But that’s exactly what Jungkook did. He embraced those very ideas and feelings and kept them bottled up and neatly tucked away all these years, knowing what you two had was so good, knowing it wasn’t worth risking the friendship you two had built up and nurtured over time. He never pushed his feelings onto you, or held you back from anything just because he felt a certain way about you. All he did was stay by your side the entire time, protecting you, silently loving you and figuring out life with you every step of the way. It’s always been Jungkook – it’s always been him.

“You know, you’re gonna need to thank YoungHo after this.” You mutter after a brief and tense silence, a tear escaping to trickle down your cheek.

Jungkook, who still has worry and stress scribbled all over his face, visibly recoils at the sound of the name of the man who was once after your heart as well. “And why would I ever need to do that?”

Not letting another moment go to waste, you suddenly perch up onto the tips of your toes, letting go of Jungkook’s hands to cup his cheeks and press your lips against his. Hands snaking through soft, wavy locks, you press yourself further into his plush petal lips, moving your mouth gently against his as he remains frozen in place. It takes him a few seconds to react, and in those few moments you can imagine what he must look like – shell-shocked doe eyes, eyebrows raised in astonishment because is his best friend really kissing him right now? But then slowly he begins to melt into your touch, brushing against your flesh hesitantly, as if he can’t believe this is all happening, his hands finding the small of your back to pull you flush against his chest. You capture his top lip between the two of yours and gently suckle on it for a moment as if to reassure him that this is real and that it’s all okay now. He seems to take the hint because then he’s suddenly sliding a hand up your sides to cradle your head, lips fervently chasing after yours, tongue swiping at your bottom lip, begging to be let in. With a small moan, you allow him to lick into your mouth, the wet muscle hurriedly fighting for dominance with yours in a way that makes heat pool in your lower abdomen.

You never knew it would feel so right to kiss Jungkook like this, to feel him moan against your skin and graze his warm hands all along the curves of your body. The more accustomed you become to his touch, the more you want him – the more you crave him. But before it can get any more heated, he slows his movements before pulling away, slightly breathless, more strands of hair scattered messily on his forehead to frame his gorgeous face, the stupid stupid face you’ve missed with your entire being.

“Please say it.” Jungkook breathes out, chest rising and falling as he tries to catch his breath, his eyes dark and dripping with want. “Before we move on, before anything else happens I just- I need to hear you say it.” Feeling his hot breaths fan against your skin, onyx eyes fixated on yours, it’s in this moment that you realize you would do anything for this man. That even though he gazes at you like you’ve got galaxies in your eyes, he’s the one who owns every inch of your stubborn and stupidly blind heart. You don’t blame him for wanting, no, needing, solid affirmation after everything he’s been through, after everything the both of you have endured. And you yourself don’t want to hold back any longer either. But despite how overwhelmed you are with emotion, a playful grin twitches at the corners of your lips. Because this is still Jungkook you’re dealing with here – and you plan on dealing with him the way you would any other day.

“I…” You stutter, watching Jungkook’s eyes widen with anticipation as you utter the words he’s been waiting for years to hear.

“I love Park SeoJoon.”

You make the declaration playfully, unable to contain the wide smile that fully spreads across your face. There’s just no other way you could ever imagine this moment playing out. And to your delight, Jungkook growls at this and presses your body tightly against him, causing a laugh to slip past your lips. It feels so euphoric to finally be able to actually laugh and joke like this after spending these past few dismal weeks without your best friend – without the love of your life.

“Don’t make me make you say it.” His threat is empty, and it shows in the way he leans his forehead against yours, eyes crinkled at the corners and twinkling brightly even in the dimly lit room. And the way he looks at you has the words falling from your lips before you can even think to say them.

“I love you, Jeon Jungkook, more than just a friend. I love you so much more than just that.” Your cheeks feel like they’re going to split from how much you’re smiling. “And I’m sorry it took me a whole ninety-eight light years to realize it. I’m the village idiot.”

Jungkook turns his head to snort and you expect him to say something sassy back like he usually does, but instead he just beams with a radiant glow you don’t think you’ve ever seen on him before, or on anyone else, for that matter. He gazes at you like a man who, after endlessly searching far and wide for miles and years on end, has finally met the end of his sufferings and is being rewarded for his hardship – like a man who has finally returned to his home.

Completely satisfied with your answer, Jungkook pulls you back into his embrace, the shape of his lips immediately molding to fit yours. He tastes sweet with a hint of bitter saltiness from the one or two tears that escape as you close your eyes to meet his kiss with your own, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. These are tears of relief and joy – a sign that everything is going to be okay from now on.

Suddenly you jump up and hook your legs around his waist, and he lets out a small grunt from your unexpected attack, but he reacts quickly and catches you with no effort required, his hands immediately finding and supporting your bottom as he leans back in to kiss you, caressing your lips with his own like he just can’t get enough of you.

“Are- are you okay with this?” Jungkook murmurs between kisses, giving your ass a tentative squeeze, to which you just sigh into his lips, giving him a small nod before you reclaim his mouth. With a kiss to match every step he takes, Jungkook carries you to his bed before gingerly laying you back, his lips still attached to yours, only parting to trail kisses along your jaw and up the column of your neck until he finds a sweet spot right behind your ear. The feeling of his lips gently nipping at the sensitive area there has you arching up into his chest, your fingers finding their way under his shirt to stroke up and down the skin of his back in a light, feathery motion.

“You really, really have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” Jungkook whispers against your skin, catching your earlobe between his teeth, “How long I’ve wanted you.”

“Jungkook,” His name comes out in an airy breath, your eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of his hands exploring your body, gently skimming down your sides and eventually lifting the hem of your shirt.

“Mmm, babe.” His hands slip beneath the fabric to caress the skin of your torso just beneath the swell of your breasts, head lifting from the crook of your neck to meet your eyes, a teasing lilt in his voice. “I am allowed to call you that now without getting beaten up, right?”

“Jeon, if you don’t hurry up and strip and get the show on the road already, I’m gonna do more than just beat you up, baby.” You snap jokingly, but it’s impossible to ignore the need and impatience clearly embedded in your voice, your dark pupils blown out and full of lust. You hold back a giggle at how Jungkook’s eyes go saucer wide, a visible confirmation for how he interpreted your words as a flush quickly creeps up his cheeks as well, making him look so cute, it’s almost unbearable. But he immediately shuts down all those thoughts as he rises up to his knees to pull off his hoodie, tight abdominal and pectoral muscles greeting you as he stares down at you, his gaze potent and heavy.

“Holy cheezits.” You exhale, eyes hungrily raking over the honey-glazed skin and the intricate lines that make up the map of his toned body. This time, you have no shame in openly gawking at all the hard work and dedication that has obviously paid off for him as you admire the lean muscles of his shoulders and arms and the way two particular crevices at his hip bones create a sharply defined “V” shape, the lines narrowing and then disappearing beneath the waistband of his shorts. He seems to notice your lack of shame too and chuckles darkly at the sight of your wide eyes drinking him in.

“What, are you hungry or something?” He laughs, and the sound is like music to your ears after not having heard the beautiful sound for so long. “Like, do you really have to bring up food right before I’m about to make you forget everything but my name?”

You suck in a breath and just hold it there at his bold words, words you never thought you’d ever hear him say, especially to you. “Is that a threat or a promise?”

He smiles before bending forward to leave a gentle kiss on your lips. “It’s whatever you want it to be, baby.”

That night, it felt like all hell broke loose, and the truth was finally brought to light. That life changing, very over-delayed night, Jungkook made sure to take his time with you. After several weeks apart and countless years of stuffing his emotions down his own throat, instead of rushing and letting it all end up as one big blur in his memory, he made sure to etch every kiss, every fluttering touch against your warm skin, every breathy moan and call of his name deep into his memory, to fully indulge in your warmth and the weight of your body against his. He teased you slowly with his touch, his mouth, the press of his body, while embedding the feeling of your smooth skin into his finger tips to remember forever, even though he knew he’d have many more opportunities to do so. He let himself come unraveled in front of you as you teased him right back, drawing your name from his lips in sweet low moans as you pleasured him and made his deepest, darkest fantasies come to life. You brought each other to your highs over and over again, kissing, caressing and exploring every single inch of skin available. Countless I love yous were pulled from your lips as he rocked into you, slowing down and then speeding up his pace, bringing you to the edge of your high only to bring you back down,  whispering even sweeter confessions and promises against your skin as you came for him, satiated him, and loved him with your entire existence.

At the wee hours of the morning, the two of you finally spent and tangled up in one another’s arms, breaths and heart beats matching and slowing to a sleepier pace, you pressed light kisses to his bare chest as he tucked your head under his chin, pulling you even closer against him, the feeling so indescribably perfect, like that’s where you have belonged the entire time. And in the few moments of consciousness before sleep took you captive for the night, Jungkook lightly stroking his fingers against your naked back, it dawned on you in that moment that what you’ve been missing the entire time was never an exciting, wild nightlife or having new hobbies to try out all the time. It wasn’t even going on dates or just having any old boyfriend and living life as the other young adults do. You realized that Jungkook’s always been the so called “missing piece” you felt you needed, even though he was always right there in front of your eyes all this time. He was just a piece of your puzzle of life that’s been sitting in the wrong spot – until now. It was him that you needed, and not just his friendship, not just his company, but his everything, Jungkook’s entire being – you just needed Jungkook.

With this in mind, sleep finally claimed you prisoner as you felt one more I love you whispered against your skin, a smile left on your lips as you slowly faded away into unconsciousness.

Being an adult wasn’t turning out to be so bad, not when you have everything you could ever need in your arms – not when you have Jungkook, your everything.

- - - - - 

[Loser’s club group chat]

Hari: ___ where are you?

Hari: why you won’t pick up

Hari: your apartments empty

Hari: AND WE’RE LATE FOR BRUNCHHH

Hari: srsly anyone know where she at?

Tae: let her be bruh, maybe she just got laid or something

Hari: why are you texting me i’m standing right next to you

Hari: and omg wait, could it be?

Yoongs: i can’t believe i had to sleep in the studio last night because of them

Joon: yall know i normally sleep like the dead but not last night holy shit

Tae: omg IT FINALLY HAPPENED

Tae: THE RED SEAAA

Hari: um excuse me

Hari: WHOS THEM???

Joon: PSA – jeon’s a very verbal lover

Joon: and a moaner

Joon: like a LOUD moaner

Hari: JEON??

Hari: LIKE ___ AND JEON??!!?

Hari: OR IS THAT JUST YOUNGHO’S NEW NICKNAME OR SOMETHING??

Hari: IT FINALLY HAPPENED??? WHAT THE FUCK????

Yoongs: seriously took em long enough

Yoongs: been eye fuckin each other for years now

Tae: HALLELUJAH FELIZ NAVIDAD YALL

Joon: so all it took was ___ going on a couple of blind dates huh

Joon: should’ve done this ages ago then

You: uhh

You: good morning everyone

You: i honestly

You: don’t even know what to say

JK: what can i say folks

JK: i tend to leave em speechless ;)

Hari: JOON

Hari: YOONGS

Hari: TAE AND I ARE COMING OVER LEAVE THE DOOR UNLOCKED

Hari: YOU HAVE A SHITTON OF EXPLAINING TO DO MISSY

Tae: don’t worry guys ill stall her

Tae: so you can get dressed and shit

Tae: or don’t. your choice ;)

JK: its all good

JK: ___ still has a lot of explaining to do for me as well

JK: we’re all waiting babe

Hari: BABE?!?!?!

Hari: omg i could cry i never thought i’d live to see this day come

You: ………

You: it’s gonna be a long day

[t100ficrecsblog]

an interview with @changingthefairy-tale​

What are you working on right now? Right now, I’m focused on BellarkeFic-for-BLM (I just got an amazing canon prompt I’m really excited to finish). I’ve also been participating in this round of the Chopped Challenge, which has been fun and challenging. In between prompts, I’ve got two WIPs that I’m slowly cranking through. Shoutout to every single reader who’s been incredibly patient while I’ve been so slow on those updates — though, reminder that you can donate to a BLM organization (even a $3 donation works) and request an update to get those higher on my prio list while I’m focused on that initiative.

What’s something you’d like to write one day? My absolute dream job and the ultimate goal is to become a showrunner for a prime time TV show. I love TV shows — I love the way actors and directors and crew take a script and breath life into it, I love how you take a general idea for a story and mold it into something amazing as you go, I love how a series gives a story more time to be fleshed out and explored, I love the concept of a writers room and collaborating on a story. It’s a different ballgame from fic writing (which I do for fun) and travel writing (which I do for a living), but I’m determined to make it happen. JRoth, I’m coming for your job, babe. 😉

What is the fanwork you’re most proud of? I’m still really new to fic writing, especially compared to some of the powerhouse writers in this fandom. And I’m sure one of my WIPs (when finished) will probably supersede this. BUT, my one-shot about Madi calling Bellamy on The Ring (She called you for 2,199 days) is something I’m really proud of. I’m a long-winded writer, so one-shots have never come naturally to me. This one just…clicked. It’s got some good lines in there that I’m proud of, and based on the feedback I’ve gotten, it really made readers feel something and connect to the story. It’s not my longest story or my most thought-out. But it shows my growth as a writer these past few months, and I’m proud of that.

Why did you first start writing fic? I started writing fic as a creative outlet for my writing. My day job is writing about travel and credit cards. And while I enjoy that, it’s just not as creative. My dream is to write for a TV show though, and I was craving a way to flex my creative writing muscles in a low-stress way. I started watching The 100 when it first came out, but I didn’t really get into the fandom until I came back to the show during the S5/6 hiatus. That’s when I started reading fics and reblogging stuff about the show on Tumblr. During the S6/7 hiatus, I had this idea for a Greys Anatomy AU, and my sister (who is also a major fan of the show) was like, “You literally write things for a living. If you want to write a Grey’s AU for t100, there is absolutely nothing stopping you.” I published my first chapter on that The Choices We Make in Dec. 2019, and the rest is history.

What frustrates you most about fic writing? For me, I think that the most frustrating thing isn’t even about fic writing itself; it’s the fact that it’s a side-hobby and not something I can dedicate my full attention to. When you write all day for your day job, then do some for your freelance gig, and then turn around and try to write for a few hours every night for fic… that gets hard sometimes — especially since starting quarantine where I’m not traveling, going out with friends, getting a break from it, etc. Fic writing is a creative release for me, and I absolutely love crafting and writing these stories that involve some of my favorite fictional characters. And I love interacting with other writers and fic readers, I love talking about ideas and exchanging headcanons and fangirling over my favorite writers’ works. But (because there’s always a but), sometimes I just don’t have the mental energy or capacity to write at the end of the day when I’ve turned in 3 deadlines for work. I’ve got all these ideas floating in my head, but only so much time and mental energy I can dedicate to it.

What are your top five songs right now? Oh boy. So I live alone, which means I’ve got either music or Netflix on in the background 24/7 because ya girl doesn’t like silence. I have a different playlist for different moods. I’ll share my fav song from each of those playlists. Lol Fvck Somebody by The Wrecks (On my “Summer state of mind” playlist for when I wanna dance it out in my kitchen like an idiot)

Don Quixote by Drapht (On @talistheintrovert​’s “My Good Bitch Murphy” playlist for when I’m feeling *edgy*)

that way by Tate McRae (On my “Pandemic Jams” playlist bc I like angsty music and this song is a Bellarke MOOD)

Washington on Your Side from Hamilton (On my “Feeding my Broadway Obsession” playlist for when I wanna sing show tunes and plot overthrowing the government)

Tea by Noah Davis (Shameless plug for Noah bc it’s a bop and I literally dated Noah’s older brother in junior high — so proud of this kid for making his dreams a reality)

What are your inspirations (books, songs, other fic, really good cake)? All of the above, except I like pie more than cake. lol But really, I kind of use everything around me for inspiration. “The Choices We Make” is inspired by my love of Grey’s Anatomy. “Intertwining your soul (with somebody else)” is inspired my the first draft of my YA novel (though the setting was adapted to a grounder canonverse AU). “The Day He Shut That Rocket Door” and “She called you for 2,199 days” were inspired by @historyofbellarke‘s headcanons that were brought up in S7 speccing conversations (shoutout to her for enabling my angsty ass). My most recent WIP “There are some things written in the stars” that I started as part of Chopped (but will continue because I’m obsessed with the idea) is inspired by my love of Timeless. And I have an entire Notion database filled with fic ideas — some one-shots and some multi-chapter fics — that are inspired by quotes, songs, conversations with friends, books I love, shows I adore, random HCs that pop into my head while I watch, my own life experiences, etc. I take inspiration in any form it decides to come in. 💕

What first attracted you to Bellarke? What attracts you now? I’m a ho for enemies to lovers — the idea that you can put your worst foot forward and show someone all the ugly parts of you… and that they’ll see that and somehow look past it to see the good stuff too, falling in love with your whole self instead of just the pretty parts. Yeah, it’s my favorite romance trope. And that tension is what originally drew me to Bellarke. Now, it’s a combination of things. I love each of these characters in their own right. I relate to Clarke in a lot of ways, and I aspire to be her level of badass. I straight adore Bellamy Blake (flaws, stupid decisions, and all) and would marry him in a heartbeat if he were real — I’m not even kidding. lol But I also love their dynamic. They are partners, best friends, perfect compliments to the other. They see each other in a way no one else does, and they are the one person the other constantly risks everything for. They are both so driven by their responsibilities to their people, yet that all typically goes out the window the moment the other is at risk. I don’t believe in soulmates in real life, but it’s nice to get to believe in this fictional world that they are just made for each other.

BESIDES Bellarke, what character or pairing do you like best on t100? My favorite character besides Bellarke is John Murphy. His arc has been BY FAR the best on this show, going from that little shit in S1 to this “asshole we love” in the middle to now a true hero in this final season. And through it all Richard Harmon has been amazing to watch on screen.

My favorite pairing besides Bellarke is Linctavia. Yes, that ship is problematic in a lot of ways, but I still loved their dynamic. Lincoln helped Octavia navigate this new world that she was so desperate to be apart of while being mindful of her safety. And I thought they were a good match — he helped tame her fire without putting it out, and she helped challenge the way he was raised. Given time, I think they could have become one of the most stable and loving relationships on t100. Of course, that couldn’t happen because Jason needed Bell’s actions in 3A to have heartbreaking consequences, O to spiral for her own character journey, and whatever mess happened off-screen between Ricky and him. But they still remain my favorite ship aside from Bellarke.

Why did you decide to start writing for bellarkefic-for-blm? The second I saw that Sam was planning on doing this, I reached out to ask how I could help/write/be involved. The BLM movement is so important, and this is an amazing way for me to contribute while pursuing my passions. It’s a way for the fandom to get involved and do something good. And ultimately, this helps organizations that need donations. Shameless plug for everyone to please go check out the Bellarke Fic for BLM page — check out the many amazing writers and artists we have participating, and send in prompts. Most of us are allowing WIP chapter update requests, and there are a number of us (myself included) who are matching donations made! No donation is too small, and you’ll be supporting a movement that is a necessity in the U.S. and beyond.

What’s your writing process like? My mind is literal chaos, so I plan and outline like hell in order to make sense of everything. When I get an idea for a fic, it goes on my Notion database. Within Notion, I write down my inspiration for the idea, and a pretty in-depth summary of where I want the fic to go — dialogue ideas, any feelings/emotions I want to invoke, literally just a brain dump of all my ideas. From there, I’ll arrange that brain dumb into an outline. If it’s a one-shot, I’ll generally write the whole thing in the Notion doc. But multi-chapter fics will get a checklist within Notion for me to keep track of progress, and I’ll actually write the fic in Google Docs. I generally start writing from the beginning of a story, but if I get stuck or have an idea for a later scene, the fact that I’ve outlined heavily allows me to jump around as ideas come to me. I’ll read each one-shot or chapter after I’m done to make sure it flows before publishing. I post chapters for my WIPs as I write them, which I should really stop doing. lol For my readers’ sakes, I should work ahead and publish on a schedule rather than making them wait for my slow ass to finish chapter to chapter. But right now, that’s my process!

What are some things you’d like to recommend? Oh goodness, too many fics to possibly name. Instead, I’ll link to my AO3 rec bookmarks (which isn’t all-inclusive of the amazing fics I’ve read in this fandom, but it’s got some good favs in there) and shout out all of our awesome Bellarke Fic for BLM writers. Y’all should check out their work (and send in prompts)!

Where’s the best place to find you (twitter? tumblr?) I’m @changingthefairy-tale on Tumblr and @changingthefairy_tale on AO3! My ask box is always open for anyone who wants to scream about the show, ask about specs, talk about my fics, etc. Come say hey!

[alexannah]

Just Keep Digging PART THREE

Chapter One | Chapter Two | FFnet | AO3

Summary: Lila makes a big mistake when showing off one day to the class. But her mistake may turn out to be not such a bad thing for Marinette and Adrien. From a prompt by @countingdowndays

Author Notes: Okay since this is no longer a one-shot, I discovered (thanks, Keyseeker) that I need to clarify where this fic stands canonically. Most of my fics I actually ignore season three, but obviously I can’t do that entirely here since we’re post-Chameleon.

So … This fic takes place shortly after Chameleon, and obviously we’re now AU because of the reveal, but it takes into account season three up until and including Startrain. (Whether I’ll get as far as events in those episodes actually occurring, I have no idea.) However Kwami Buster onwards is NOT taken into account. So no worries about our heroes having to give up their Miraculouses, or future Hawk Moth, or any Cat Blanc stuff. None of that exists here!

And for the record, I’m a fan of Gabriel and Nathalie and a supporter of the redemption arc. Whether this fic will go there or not, I don’t know. Still improvising here!

Just Keep Digging

By Alexannah

Chapter Three: Just Keep Intimidating

“Do you have any idea how lonely Adrien gets, Mr Agreste?” Marinette blurted out.

Gabriel Agreste blinked at the abrupt change of subject. “I’m sorry?”

“You’d better be. He spends most of his time shut up in this house, not allowed to leave except for school and classes. I get that you want to protect him, but all too often you cross the line between keeping him safe and keeping him a prisoner. He hardly ever complains because he’s used to it, it’s his norm; but that doesn’t mean it’s right or best for him. People need social interaction, sir. He hates being so isolated; you may not mean to, but you hurt him so much by doing that to him.”

“He told you this?”

“He doesn’t have to. We can all see it a mile off. Which makes me wonder why you can’t.” Marinette paused. “No, actually I know why you can’t. Because while you keep him physically close, you keep him emotionally distant. You don’t give him any quality time, or make him feel like he can approach you. I understand that you’re a busy man, but surely you can spare some time to spend with him, instead of always palming him off on your staff. It would make him feel so much better to at least know you’re trying. Instead there’s this massive wall between you and it’s growing bigger every day. And wrapping him in cotton wool isn’t the answer. You know what happens to people when they’re wrapped in too much cotton wool, Mr Agreste? They suffocate.”

There was a long, long silence once she finally stopped talking, wondering if she had completely blown it. Mr Agreste was still staring at her, no recognisable reaction on his face except extreme surprise.

Finally he broke eye contact, removing his glasses and polishing them. “I see you care deeply for my son,” he finally said, quite quietly.

“Yes, I do.”

“Hmm. Most of his fans desire him because he’s handsome and famous.” He replaced his glasses and looked back at Marinette. “But not you.”

“I’d love him just as much if no-one had heard of him and he had a face like a gorilla’s butt.”

Mr Agreste’s mouth twitched. “So I assume your intentions towards him are of the … more long-term variety.”

“The forever kind of long-term,” she agreed. “The ‘till death do us part’ kind of long-term.” For a moment she thought something weird flickered in Mr Agreste’s eyes at the ‘death do us part’ bit, but a second later she was sure she had imagined it. “The ‘married with three kids and a hamster’ kind of long term.”

“I see. And what do you imagine Adrien would be doing, other than helping you look after three kids and a hamster?”

“Whatever makes him happy. Whether that’s modelling, or his music, or tap dancing in the street.” Marinette tried not to giggle as she remembered him actually doing that as Cat Noir. “I’m sure you have your own grand ideas about what Adrien should do with his life, sir, but he’s his own person who deserves to make his own decisions. Even if you think they’re the wrong ones. Maybe I don’t meet your high standards; maybe none of his friends do. But we all love Adrien and want what’s best for him.”

Silence fell for a long moment as he gazed at her thoughtfully. “Tell me, does Adrien share your very specific vision of your future?”

“Well, I don’t know if he wants the same number of kids and a hamster, but I know he wants to spent the future with me. We should probably work out the details after we’ve been a couple for more than a few hours.”

Again, Mr Agreste’s mouth twitched, and Marinette dared wonder if he was actually amused by her words. Whether or not that was a good thing, however, remained to be seen.

“I will allow your relationship with Adrien,” he said finally. “But I have conditions.”

“So do I,” Marinette said before she knew what she was saying.

His eyes widened. “I beg your pardon?”

“I already told you, Mr Agreste, that there are areas of your relationship with Adrien—well, the whole thing, really—that you need to work on.” Marinette folded her arms decisively. “So if you really want him to be happy, then I expect you to be willing to do so.”

She received a speechless gape in return.

“I expect you to choose presents for Adrien yourself and put thought and care into them. I expect you to make it up to him whenever your work gets in the way of spending time with him. I expect you to find time to actually tell him you love him, because to my knowledge he’s never heard that from you. I expect you to consider Adrien’s feelings and consult with him when making decisions for his protection or whatever, and if necessary reach a compromise you’re both happy with. I expect you to be more open to suggestions from other people who care about him on what’s best for him and what he needs to be emotionally healthy. I expect you to try, Mr Agreste. I expect you to want to be a better parent and be willing to learn.”

It was impossible to work out what he was thinking, but for some reason she couldn’t explain, she thought her words might actually be getting through to him.

“And this isn’t just about Adrien,” Marinette continued boldly. “Assuming that our future progresses as we both hope it does, then one day I guess I’ll be your daughter-in-law.” The expression on his face was suddenly beyond laughable. “And I may as well make this clear now so there are no surprises in the future, so you can’t possibly have any reason to withdraw your approval of us later on.”

“I’m listening.”

“I expect you to learn not to be such a control freak, so that when he’s an adult, you don’t make him feel like he has to do everything you want him to rather than what he wants, in order to keep you happy; because that’s not healthy—it’s not healthy now—and you can’t regulate his life decisions forever. I expect by the time he and I are married for you to have let go and let him have his own life. Assuming you take on board everything I’ve said, I’m hopeful the two of you will have a much better relationship by then than you have now; and if, as I think, you really do love him, then I can’t see any reason why you wouldn’t want that.”

“I do love him,” Mr Agreste said quietly.

“Good. So we’re in agreement.”

He still looked a bit stunned, but didn’t disagree.

“I haven’t finished,” Marinette continued. “Our future children.” He raised his eyebrows. “I don’t expect you to be perfect, but I expect you to make an effort. I expect you to actually have a relationship with them, not be this distant figure they hardly ever see and barely know. You will respect that Adrien and I are their parents, and therefore our decisions are the ones that go; and while we’ll be open to advice, at the end of the day we’ll be the ones making the decisions we feel are best for them. You will do your very best to be present at every single special occasion; and I won’t accept any excuses, only the most valid, out-of-your-control reasons. Every Christmas and birthday, every school play and concert, every fencing meet or whatever interests they end up pursuing, regardless of whether they meet your approval or not. You have been absent from the important things in Adrien’s life for way too long and I won’t stand for you treating your grandchildren the same way. I want them to have a grandfather they can actually have a good relationship with, someone they will love and look forward to spending time with. And I know Adrien would want that too.”

Once again, the room was dead silent once she had finished.

“So what were your conditions, Mr Agreste?” Marinette asked, almost sweetly.

He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Er …”

~*~

In the next room, Adrien was trying desperately to resist the temptation to listen at the door. His father and Marinette’s voices were muffled, so he couldn’t work out what they were saying, but they sounded quite heated.

If he were alone, he probably would have listened, but Nathalie was there. While he wasn’t entirely sure she would stop him, he didn’t want her to mention to Gabriel later that he had overheard whatever was going on in there.

“Thanks for letting me tell him myself,” he said finally to break the awkward silence.

Nathalie nodded. “Do you love her, Adrien?”

“Completely and utterly,” he said with no hesitation. He thought about adding “I’d die for her,” but stopped himself just in time, thinking that might not have the right effect.

Her expression softened. “I very much hope she can win your father over.”

“So do I. She’s so wonderful; and if anyone can, she can; but … Father’s so stubborn.”

“He is,” Nathalie agreed. “And overprotective. But he does have a heart, Adrien.”

“He has a funny way of showing it sometimes,” Adrien muttered.

Nathalie sighed. “I know.”

There was an awkward pause.

“So … how did the two of you …?”

Adrien hesitated, quickly sorting through the memories and censoring the superhero identity stuff in favour of a simpler version of the story. Marinette coming to comfort him after what Lila had said, and him realising she felt the same way about him than he did her … yes, that would do.

“Well, it started with us all talking about our favourite movies …”

~*~

Marinette opened the door, and saw Adrien sitting talking with Nathalie, who looked quite angry for some reason. She quickly schooled her expression to be more neutral as she saw her, and stood up. “How did it go?”

“Er … well, he’s happy for us to date.”

Adrien beamed. “He is? Yes! I knew you could win him over, Marinette!”

“You sound quite relieved nevertheless,” she teased, drawing up to him.

“Well … maybe I was a bit worried,” Adrien admitted. “That’s not a reflection on you at all, though.”

“I know. Anyway, it’s all okay. Though he has set some conditions.”

Adrien frowned. “Conditions?”

“Nothing bad. Just, you know, sticking to curfew, bodyguard, stuff like that.”

“That was an awfully long conversation for just going over ground rules,” Nathalie said, in a tone which made Marinette sure she suspected a lot more had been discussed.

“Other subjects may have come up,” she said vaguely.

“Oh? Like what?” Adrien asked.

“Well … er … your dad’s lousy parenting …”

“What?” he gasped, and Nathalie choked.

“You’re the one who told me to be honest!” Marinette said to her.

“Sheesh, Marinette, what did you say to him?”

“Basically, everything I and the rest of your friends have wanted to say to him for the last few months.”

Adrien groaned. “I can hardly believe you’re still breathing! Let alone that he actually approved us dating?”

“Apparently I proved to him that I’m not after you because you’re a famous model.” She kissed his cheek, and he blushed. Aw, she would never get used to that. “And on a completely unrelated note, he’s made a resolution to have dinner with you at least four times a week, let you attend at least one social thing a week (three in the holidays), and he’s coming to see you in the school talent show next Friday.”

And when you turn fifteen, you’re getting a surprise birthday party, she silently added.

Nathalie raised her eyebrows. “Goodness,” she said, sounding very impressed.

“Wow,” Adrien said, sounding just as much so. “Marinette, you do realise that apart from my mom, you and Nathalie are the only two people who have ever been able to get my father to change his mind about something like that?”

“Um … no, I didn’t.” Marinette looked at Nathalie. “Thanks for the tip.”

“You’re welcome. Oh, Adrien, here’s your phone back.” She handed him his phone, then looked between them. “Is Marinette staying for a while, or do you two have other plans?”

“Er, I think it might be a good idea to give Mr Agreste some space from me for the rest of the day.”

“And we do have other plans,” Adrien agreed, taking her hand. “I promised her ice cream at Andre’s.”

“Ice cream?” Nathalie glanced out of the window. “Are you sure? It looks like it’s going to start storming again soon.”

“Oh,” Adrien said, sounding disappointed.

“We could go to my house instead,” Marinette suggested. “Only fair you get to meet my parents now.”

“They’re not going to interrogate me, are they?”

“Not like that. My dad is a very different kind of intimidating.”

Adrien raised his eyebrows. “Er, what kind of intimidating?”

“You’ll see.”

Someone cleared their throat in the doorway, and they all looked over to see Mr Agreste had appeared. “Nathalie, could I have a word?”

Marinette gulped, wondering if this was about Adrien’s birthday present.

“I wonder what that’s about,” Adrien said, frowning slightly after Nathalie had followed her boss from the room.

“Er …” She cast her mind around quickly for a change of subject. “Yeah, um … there’s someone else we need to talk to. Master Fu,” she said in a low voice.

Adrien paused. “Oh. Right. We know our secret identities now … Do you think he’ll be upset?”

“I don’t know, but whatever his reaction, we shouldn’t put it off.” Marinette took out her phone and selected the turtle icon in her contacts.

~*~

“I hear congratulations are in order,” Nathalie said after closing the door behind her.

“They’re dating, not engaged,” Gabriel said quickly, though he couldn’t help silently adding yet. He shook himself and remembered what he had actually intended to talk to her about.

“I think you made the right decision, sir. Marinette seems a sweet girl. And Adrien is clearly absolutely smitten with her.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear it goes both ways. She was very …” Gabriel paused, searching for the right word. “… specific about her feelings for him.”

“Really?”

He knew from her tone that it was not actually a surprise, and wondered what she had said to Marinette before the meeting. “Yes. Very bluntly honest.”

That was putting it mildly. Marinette Dupain-Cheng had let him have it with both barrels. Gabriel thought the last time he had been that intimidated by a teenager, he had been the same age himself. Fortunately he didn’t think he had let it show.

“I see. Good for her.”

“Yes.” He paused. “The thing is, she did bring up something which I should ask you about.”

“Oh?”

“I understand that the present she intended to give to Adrien for his birthday, was somehow mistaken for being from me.” He arched an eyebrow at Nathalie, whose eyes widened.

“Oh. Er … d-did she tell Adrien?”

“No. And she stated she has no plans to do so. Apparently he was delighted to think it was from me, and she doesn’t want to disappoint him.” Gabriel fixed his assistant with a sharp frown. “I don’t suppose you could shed any light on how this misunderstanding occurred, Nathalie?”

She sighed. “On Adrien’s birthday, Marinette dropped off a gift for him, shortly before you … asked if I had got him a present from you. I … didn’t remember you having asked me to before, and … I panicked.”

“You told Adrien that Marinette’s scarf was from me.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Why did you not simply go out and get him something?”

Nathalie fixed Gabriel with a surprisingly hard look. “Because that would have required leaving Adrien to eat lunch alone on his birthday, Mr Agreste. Which I didn’t want to do. Nor did I want to have to tell him that his father had either not got him a present, or asked me to and that I had forgotten. I knew any of the above would hurt him.” Her eyes narrowed slightly. “And as it happened, because of the Bubbler, he had lunch alone on his birthday anyway.”

The accusation was impossible to miss, and a long, very tense silence fell between them.

“I … will not akumatize anyone on Adrien’s birthday again,” Gabriel finally relented.

“Especially not friends of his who only wanted to do something kind for him,” Nathalie added.

“Er … yes. I mean … no, I won’t.”

Her expression softened slightly. “Marinette really got through to you, didn’t she?”

“You put her up to that, didn’t you?”

“All I did was advise her to be honest. The rest was all her.”

“Well, it worked,” Gabriel admitted. “There are some … changes I need to make.”

Nathalie nodded slowly, frowning again. “Talking of honesty … did you by any chance sense any negative emotions from Lila Rossi earlier today?”

Gabriel blinked, completely taken aback. “Yes, actually. She’s been very emotional for most of the day, but you know I’ve been tied up with work I couldn’t delegate. It’s been quite frustrating having to wait; I was planning to seize the opportunity once Marinette had left. How did you know?”

“Adrien told me about something that happened this morning between the two of them. And … well, you’re not going to like it …”

~*~

Lila checked her text again.

We need to talk.

She didn’t know why she had come to the meeting place Adrien had specified. What more did he want to say? Adrien was the forgiving type, but she was certain this was beyond even him.

One little miscalculation, and everything had been ruined. Usually Lila planned her stories with care, but from time to time had simply grabbed an opportunity. And now she’d had the horrible misfortune of picking the wrong person to lie about.

How the hell was I supposed to know she was his mom???

If she transferred to a new school (Lila was already formulating an argument to present to her mother why it was necessary), then she would be more careful. At the very least do an internet search before opening her mouth.

She turned as she heard the car pull up behind her. The back window rolled down, and her eyes widened in surprise as it revealed not Adrien, but his father.

“Get in, Miss Rossi,” Gabriel Agreste said shortly.

She did, hesitating as she realised he was alone in the back. “Where’s Adrien?”

“He did not send you that text. You are not the only one with the ability to deceive.”

A cold chill went down her spine as the car pulled off, and Lila was suddenly very aware of the fact that no-one knew where she was.

“S-sir? What do you want?”

He didn’t look at her, face set in grim determination as he stared straight ahead. “Adrien told Nathalie what you said about his mother.”

Lila had guessed he’d found out, but still felt the blood drain from her face. “Sir, I swear, I never meant—I had no idea he was talking about his mom!”

“That is not the point. Your story could have severely hurt him, and the only reason it didn’t was because he believes something tragic happened to her.” He suddenly fixed Lila with a glare so fierce, she wished he was still looking straight ahead. “I wanted to tell you personally that if you ever do or say anything that could hurt Adrien again, regardless of whether or not you meant it to, you will severely regret it.”

Lila waited for the car to stop, but it didn’t. She glanced at the driver. It wasn’t Adrien’s bodyguard as usual; it was the aforementioned secretary. For some reason this felt foreboding.

“Um … wh-where are we going?”

He did not answer her question. “Miss Rossi, your relationship, in any sense, with my son is over. You are not to go near him again. You are not to talk about him or to him, and the same goes for his friends, because when they are hurt so is he. You are toxic and I will not have your poison harming my family.”

“I understand, Mr Agreste.”

“I’m not sure you do. You have been akumatized … how many times?”

“Er …” Lila said, taken aback at the question.

“Four, as I understand it. And you have a deep hatred of Ladybug which has made you valuable to Hawk Moth.”

“I’m not sure I understand—Wait, how do you know?”

“I am very well informed, Miss Rossi. Especially about the people around my son. I want to make one thing absolutely clear. Should you be akumatized again, no matter what Hawk Moth wants of you, Adrien and his friends are off limits. You cannot use that as an excuse with me.” His eyes sent icy daggers of fear through her. “You will find I can be a much more dangerous enemy than Hawk Moth.”

Before she could register the movement, his hand had crept around her throat and started to squeeze.

Lila choked, struggling to draw breath, and grasped weakly at his strong fingers, trying to pull them off. They were immovable. He wasn’t blocking her airways, but it hurt. She saw Nathalie glance in the mirror but merely look away, showing no sign of mercy.

Mr Agreste finally let go. “Is that absolutely clear?”

“Y-yes, s-sir,” Lila gasped, massaging her throat.

“Now you are going to get out, and you are going to tell your parents about every single lie you have told. If I find you have missed any out, I will tell them myself.”

They stopped, and Lila saw they were outside her home. She had never been so relieved to be able to get out of a car. She would take being grounded for the rest of her life over spending one more second in that man’s company.

“This is your only warning,” Gabriel Agreste said darkly, before closing the door again. The car pulled away.

Lila braced herself, and approached her front door.

~*~

“Don’t dawdle on the way home,” Gabriel said to Nathalie, settling back in his seat, satisfied and in anticipation. “I will not miss this opportunity.”

“Of course, Mr Agreste.”

He could already feel Lila’s anger and frustration, but once her parents found out everything, it was bound to increase. Her next akumatization would be her most powerful form yet.

“Do you think she’s afraid enough to leave Adrien alone?” Nathalie asked, breaking him out of his thoughts. “She might have thought you were bluffing.”

“She didn’t. I can tell.” Gabriel looked back at his assistant. “Do you think it was too big a risk?”

“As long as you left no visible mark on her—”

“I didn’t.” He had been very careful not to.

“—and she’s convinced that you really would hurt her if she hurt Adrien again—”

“Which I will. And she is.”

“—then no. Even if she tries to tell someone you attacked her, no-one is going to believe her now.”

Gabriel nodded. That had been the plan. His Miraculous glowed as Lila’s emotions suddenly spiked. “Faster, Nathalie. I mean … Catalyst.”

To Be Continued …

Author’s Note: Thanks to phantombullets240 for your idea; it’s what turned this into a multi-chapter fic.

I initially drafted the penultimate scene with Gabriel ending his deal with Lila, then remembered it hadn’t happened yet in canon. Which is a shame because it would have been so much more tense. But I’m happy with the rewrite.

Part of the scene between Marinette and Gabriel was inspired by a conversation from Monster In Law, but it’s been years since I’ve seen the film so I’m not sure how close it is to the original.

I have a plan for the next chapter, but action isn’t my strong point, so it might take a little longer than the others to write!

[hpwipfest-blog]

Masterpost HP WIP Fest, part 1

Hello dear fest participants and exited readers. I hereby give you the first masterpost of the HP WIP Fest, announcing all WIP’s that have entered so far. As it is a long list, I have put it under a cut, with the WIP’s that are already on ao3 first in case you want to start reading already. 

If you signed up for the fest but do not see your WIP in this list, this is probably because I do not yet have a title for your work. In that case, please email me the title so I can include you in the next masterpost.

I hope all the participants find lots of inspiration to finish in the upcoming weeks, and to our early readers, enjoy these wonderful WIP’s!

#1

Skin Deep by @loganaa-fic

Pairing: Drarry

When Harry accepts a job at Dean's tattoo parlor, he never expected that Draco Malfoy would show up, looking for a tattoo. But then again, since when did Malfoy do what was expected?

#2

The Boy Who Killed God by @sirius-black-killed-god

Pairing: Wolfstar

Sirius Black has a secret. Well, no, that's not true. Sirius Black has many secrets. His wand is dying, his parents more or less want to kill him, and there's the small matter of the cursed TOUJOURS PUR tattoo right above his heart, that he's had since he turned eight years old. Sirius Black is no stranger to secrets.

Then, Remus Lupin walks into his life.

Thus, begins a whole new history - one of darkness, of magic, of bravery, of family - as four boys set out to unwind the endings so many others have written for them.

This is the story of the Marauders at Hogwarts and afterwards, and all the love that lies between.

This is Year One.

#3

Apparently by justanotherloser

Pairing: Drarry

Father says apparently I feel too much.

Mother says apparently my mask needs to hide more of my emotions.

The Dark Lord says apparently I'm too weak.

Blaise says apparently I hate too often, and Pansy says I apparently need to let go.

I never get to make choices with them. Not with my family, not with my life, not with my house.

Apparently I can only choose who I hate, and I can't even get that right.

Apparently I love Harry Potter.

#4

Are You Here To Finish Me Off, Sweetheart? by @geekmom13

Pairing: Antonin Dolohov/Hermione Granger

Antonin gets held by the order for the secret he keeps and Hermione is put in charge of him. They end up relying on each other more than anyone had expected.

#5

Children of war by @the-purple-black

Pairing: Bellatrix Lestrange/Rodolphus Lestrange

A promise made by Bellatrix to the Dark Lord seemed unimportant at the time, though years later it seems her loyalty must be put to the test.

#6

Fixed Point by @frumpologist

Pairing: Dramione

Draco and Hermione are Time Unspeakables who travel through time to stop anachronists from using illegal time travel to change the course of history.

Their adventures lead them through the whole of history and the unwritten expanse of the future. Hermione learns about the History of Magic and Draco learns about science, Muggles, and falling in love.

However, there are fixed points in time, events so important that they cannot be altered. Hermione Granger’s tragic life as an Unspeakable is one of those points, and nothing Draco can do will change the path they’re forced to follow.

#7

Not In Love (Letters) by @drarryangels

Pairing: Drarry

It's eighth year at Hogwarts, and Harry is unsurprisingly beyond miserable. Ron isn't coming back for his last year of school, Hermione is suddenly best friends with Pansy Parkinson, and Draco Malfoy won't stop ignoring him. Even all the House unity is going too splendidly to be exciting. Truthfully, Harry wishes he had never come back at all. That is, until he starts receiving letters from an anonymous sender.

#8

Sequel to Palo Alto by @nachodiablo

Pairing: Wolfstar

Modern AU set in Northern California. It's been four years since Sirius and Remus got their shit together. James and Lily aren't doing too shabby, either. Things are going great. Sure, James still hasn't gotten any of his business ideas off the ground quite yet. And yeah, Lily's still not ready to move in with James, even though she spends every night at his place. And okay, Remus might be starting to freak a little about whether his PhD is going to land him in some no-name wasteland town for a job. And fine, Sirius has stalled out a bit since he left work to pursue his dreams of... well, to find a dream to pursue. Regardless. Things are great. Very chill. That is, until a family tragedy brings an adorable bundle of responsibility into their lives.

#9

The End Is Just The Beginning by @the-fifth-marauder

Pairing: Drarry

When Draco decided to join the Auror forces, he knew life would be made hell for him by just about everyone in the Ministry. Yet never did Draco think he would be condemned to a fate like this.

Or

The one where Draco gets the second chance he never knew he wanted. Before he realized that 'Happy Endings' just aren't for his destiny. Or were they?

#10

New Beginnings by @kaarina-riddle

Pairing: Dramione

Hermione comes home to find her husband in a compromising position on the kitchen table and wants to get away from everything, the perfect job opportunity as a professor of Charms at Hogwarts is offered and she takes it. Only to find that there's a surprise Draco Malfoy old school nemesis is the new DADA professor what will happen?

#11

A Girl Worth Fighting For by @saintdionysus

Pairing: Hermione Draco, Hermione/Theo

Due to the events of War, The Ministry of Magic has ordered students to repeat their final year, despite being legal wizarding age and completion of OWLs. Hermione Granger and Blaise Zabini form a friendship as head boy and head girl and find a way to use their authority to challenge the Ministry. Along the way, she finds herself caught between two unexpected love interests, while Blaise plays referee between his two friends.

#12

The Promise by @tofadeawayagain

Pairing: Drastoria, Dramione

When Astoria Malfoy learns she is dying, she asks Hermione Granger to take care of her husband Draco. It's not until the following New Year's Eve that he starts to let her. A tale about the seasons of grief, friendship and love, and moving on after a devastating loss.

#13

All the Stupid Things in Between: A Gryffindor and Slytherin Love Story by ForeverEvan

Pairing: Fred Weasley/OFC

Evangeline "Evan" Carter, the illegitimate daughter of Lucius Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange, is moved from Ilvermorny to Hogwarts at the beginning of the 4th Year. She is facing the task of hiding her true identity while falling for a boy from the wrong family. Evan must rely on her brother and her teacher to navigate the dangerous world of being the daughter of a Death Eater and a killer.

#14

Prowler by @goldie-writes-things

Pairing: Harry/Hermione

Harry and Hermione thought winning the war was the hard part. They had no idea how difficult surviving it would be. Newly engaged Lord Potter and Lady Black must navigate the murky waters of parenthood while rebuilding their lives. But when their world starts crashing down around them they are faced with a startling question: What wouldn’t you do for your child?

#15

Stressed Teen to Yes Queen by @drarryandharry

Pairing: Drarry

The fab five sort out post war Harry. That’s it. That’s the summary.

#16

Shockwave by maraudersaffair

Pairing: Drarry

When Harry fled Britain he had no idea murder and Draco fucking Malfoy would follow. Now in Las Vegas, he’s faced with a vampire mystery and a Malfoy who refuses to tell him the truth.

Veelas and vampires! Yay!

#17

Destiny Intertwined by @vinoamore

Pairing: Hermione/Dolohov

In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the DFFandCabalChristmasFest collection.

Prompt: A marriage law is passed just before the Christmas holidays. Hermione is matched with a former Death Eater, Antonin Dolohov...and Hermione is furious. "Why is this happening?!" she demanded. "He tried to kill me!"

#18

The Seven Year Witch by @thelastlynx

Pairing: Dramione

A boy and a girl have been meeting, coincidentally, for seven summers. While they pretty much hate each other most of the year, for those little moments in July or August they manage to see one another in a different light. But will that be quite enough to bring them together?

#19

Distant Stars by @of-stars-and-moon

Pairing: Wolfstar, Jily

(The story of Sirius Black, a Slytherin student as he finds friendship and love from someone he never expected)

'The memory was still so new and clear, feeling like it was yesterday but an eternity away at the same time.

In first year, Sirius would have never ever imagined that on his last day at Hogwarts, he would be lying on a roof, holding hands with Remus and listening to James and Peter.'

#20

A Home For Christmas by @motherbookerao3

Pairing: Drarry

High on a barely legal pain potion, Harry accidentally ends up adopting a child with Draco Malfoy.

#21

The Noble and Most Ancient Guide to Vice and Virtues by grimyoufuck

Pairing: Wolfstar

Toujours Pur; the words had been branded into Sirius' subconscious from a young age. It was a motto he'd never been able to live up to, even when he had tried. But now? Now, he was going to escape his mother's scathing words and his father's ambivalent silence to travel the continent with his best friend, and nothing was going to stop him. His mother was determined to keep the bloodline pure, and uphold the name of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, Sirius was determined to do the opposite.

When Sirius Black journeys to France to begin the first leg of his European tour with best friend James Potter, he'd expected a holiday of booze and boys. What he hadn't expected, much less wanted, was an educational trip, including nights out at the opera. But when a particular cast member catches Sirius' eye, he wonders if some good old fashioned fun could be obtained after all.

#22

Serendipity by @mrsren96

Pairing: Harry/Hermione

Like any girl, Hermione has dreamed of her future nuptials, at least once or twice. So far it's not going so well. There's a marriage law, and well, Harry Potter to deal with.

#23

Avignon by bittercape

Pairing: Gen

Voldemort is dead, and Wizarding Britain is controlled by the totalitarian Umbridge Ministry. The resistance, mainly centered around our heroes from the books (with some additions and some changes), is working against overpowering odds to overthrow the government. Think a reversed French revolution meets Cold War-era Berlin. With magic.

#24

A Bond Beyond The Vast Wave by @mangopassionfruity

Pairing: Sirius/Lucius, James/Lily, Lily/Severus

Sirius was a many things, rebellious, lazy, a prankster, troublemaker, lady's man, irresponsible, carefree. Or that is what he likes to appear as. And why break that image he's crafted for himself? Even if it'd make his life easier, especially with his hidden relationship with a certain Malfoy heir.

But things backfire and it leads to making decisions that change his way of life.

#25

Though My Mind Could Think (I Still Was a Mad Man) by Cassiara

Pairing: Drarry

After the war is over Harry thinks it's finally his turn to rest after years of pretending he's fine, and just waiting for the day he isn't needed anymore. He tries to kill himself, but of all people, Malfoy saves him. Harry realises that if he has the courage to die, he should also have the courage to live.

Ultimately this is a story about recovery, but it's also about all the things you sometimes have to go through to get there.

This is a rewrite of my fic "Favourite Scar".

#26

Explosions in the heart by @hp-rbiim

Pairing: Drarry

It's back to Hogwarts and Malfoy is annoying as ever.

Unpublished WIP’s

#27

Time is gone (thought i'd have something more to say) by Thestias

Pairing: Fremione

After the battle of hogwarts, the dead number in the hundreds; the loss of the brightest witch of their age hits hard, and for one wizard, his desperation to fix what had been broken sends him travelling back in time in a frantic attempt to save her. angst, fluff and angst, time travel, alternate universe - canon divergence, slow burn

#28

Encounters by @pottercrew

Pairing: Drarry

Harry is finding it difficult to keep his relationship with Draco apart from his relationships with Malfoy. What if he no longer wants to? Kink negotiation, anal sex, blow jobs, hard sex, bondage, voyeurism, sex club.

#29

The Side Of The Angels by @hiddenhibernian

“Focus,” Hermione told herself, forcing her breathing to slow down. “What's the worst that can happen?”

 Bad question. Her heart was hammering so hard it drowned out the buzz from the bar on the other side of the door to the cleaning cupboard she unceremoniously had been bundled into. The bar was the Hag's Head, and it was usually a friendly place for the Order of the Phoenix. They were still fighting, five years after the fall of Harry Potter, but Aberforth had turned against them... It didn't bear thinking about. 

Then the door opened.

#30

Not Gryffindor…? by Dracomalfoyy_youlittleshit

Harry gets sorted into Slytherin, finding an unlikely friendship in Draco Malfoy. Basically a retell of Harry Potter but with Harry in Slytherin.

#31

A Lotus In The Mud by @kaokumasparkle

Pairing: Drarry

Harry always had problems with common sense, everyone knows this. And now that he's sick with Hanahaki over a certain slytherin blonde, it looks like he may never get the chance to learn. Possible tags: mutual pining, angst with a happy ending, parseltongue Harry, Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini, Hogwarts 8th year, Hermione just wants ONE year where Harry doesn't almost die, jealous Draco, protective Harry, Forbidden Forest adventures, minor mentions of blood

#32

It’s A Kind Of Magic by ive_beenfound

Pairing: Drarry

It's 8th year and the war has been hard on everyone. And having a future to think about and look forward to is terrifying Warnings/Tags: 10 year time jump, difficult conversations about lgbtq and war, harry being oblivious, draco being a shite, potentially triggering conversations about family.

#33

Flirting With Chaos by @alexandrao

Pairing: Dramionarry (Draco x Hermione x Harry) 

The Ministry of Magic passes a marriage law, forcing all those above the age of 17 to be married. Hermione, furious with the law, is paired not to one wizard, but two! Determined to change the law, she flirts with the line that could send her relationship into complete and total chaos.

#34

Friendship, Football, and Fireworks by @LegendaryWrighter

Pairing: Deamus

One lazy Sunday morning, Seamus finds Dean going through some old sketchbooks and joins him in reminiscing on several memories. 

#35

The Winder Of My Life by @nuclearnik

Pairing: Dramione

Hermione's special bond with her Snippets of Hermione's life as she grows up raised by a single mother. When Hermione is an adult, their bond grows to include Draco, who accepts him as long as he loves and cares for her daughter. As her mother's health declines, Hermione has hard truths to face and a supportive husband who is smitten by her mother. 

[notarelationship]

In A Minute - Ch 2

Klaine Fic - In A Minute

Summary: AU. Kurt’s a bit clumsy, and Blaine needs a boyfriend in a hurry. What more do you want? Words: ~2700 Chapters: 2/? Warnings: none

AO3: Ch 1, Ch 2

Thanks to @honeysucklepink for the beta! I claim all errors as my own.

-

Blaine didn’t question whether or not this was a good idea until he was on his way to meet Kurt. But now that he was about to pass off a virtual stranger as his boyfriend of over six months, he was starting to have doubts.

He could have just told his parents that his boyfriend wasn’t available. He could have told them they’d broken up. He could have asked someone he knows to do it instead - he has plenty of friends who would have helped him out in this situation, friends that knew him well and had never met his parents. His parents wouldn’t have suspected anything. They aren’t really that involved in his life.

On the other hand, they had been pushing him to meet this guy - Sebastian - for months. They even tried to arrange an accidental meeting at their club when Blaine was home between semesters. That’s when he had made up the boyfriend thing in the first place.  

Not to mention that Blaine’s having a boyfriend hadn’t stopped his mother from continuing to talk about Sebastian whenever they spoke on the phone. “Sebastian is so handsome” “Sebastian is so worldly - did you know he went to Europe for a whole summer before college?” “Did I tell you Sebastian’s parents bought him an apartment in Boston so he doesn’t have to live in the dorms? Boston isn’t that far away, is it Blainey?” Blaine was beyond tired of hearing about the guy.

As he walked toward their meeting spot around the corner from the restaurant, Blaine went over everything he’d learned about Kurt during their conversation: he was in the theater program at Tisch; he grew up in Ohio - just like Blaine had (and wasn’t that a weird coincidence?); his dad owned his own garage, where Kurt had worked in high school; and his mom had died when Kurt was young. Blaine didn’t know if that was something he should ask more about, but Kurt seemed to breeze over the information so Blaine didn’t pursue it. It wasn’t really his business - Kurt wasn’t really his boyfriend.  

Kurt had also sung in his high school Glee club - again, just like Blaine. He was really into Broadway, and could hold his own when they started discussing pop music, but that knowledge probably wouldn’t come up at dinner with his parents.  He knew he shouldn’t expect to be embarrassed by his parents behavior, they’d been nothing but supportive to him - with only mild indifference to his coming out, but still, he’d never introduced a guy to them. If it went too poorly the only real damage would be that he’d have to find a new diner, and while he really didn’t want that, it could be worse.

Kurt did seem nice enough, and he seemed game to do it. He even seemed to think it would be fun, which Blane didn’t understand at all, but he supposed it wasn’t Kurt’s parents they were trying to fool.

Blaine arrived at the agreed upon meeting spot five minutes early, and Kurt was already there waiting for him. Blaine almost didn’t notice him - Kurt definitely looked different outside of his diner uniform. His hair sat in a perfect quiff just over his forehead, and his clothes would definitely impress Blaine’s parents - Kurt was wearing expensive designer pieces.  His shirt was definitely Marc Jacobs, and Blaine could swear the velvet vest and matching pattern trousers Kurt was wearing were genuine vintage Alexander McQueen - if he wasn’t just as sure that there was no way Kurt could afford them on tips from the diner...he wasn’t that good of a waiter. Blaine swallowed. Kurt looked like he’d been sewn into his outfit, and was somehow at least five inches taller than he had seemed at the restaurant.

“I hope I haven’t kept you waiting long?” he finally managed to get out. He wasn’t sure if the situation was appropriate for an air kiss - Blaine never could quite get that right, but when Kurt leaned forward, he just went for it. It was only mildly awkward. “You look great,” Blaine told him. “Amazing, actually. Is that real McQueen?”

“Why yes it is - well spotted, and thank you,” Kurt answered, obviously pleased at the complement.  Blaine stored that away in case things went sideways; maybe he could flatter Kurt into forgiving him and not lose access to his favorite diner. “And you are right on time. My subway skipped a few stops on my way here, so I was a little early. I didn’t want to be late to meet the parents,” he said, joking.

Blaine tried to laugh, but he was getting more nervous by the minute. Kurt didn’t seem to be nervous at all.

“Look, if you don’t want to do this - it all seems like a crazy idea now that I’ve had a couple days to think about it. I can just tell them we broke up, or something.” Blaine ended that sentence weaker than he wanted to. He wished he could just stand up to his parents about this.

“Oh come on! It’ll be fine.” Kurt narrowed his eyes, as if he were studying Blaine. “And I’m already all dressed up.” Kurt said, slipping his arm through Blaine’s as they headed toward the restaurant. “I hate to waste it.”

Blaine looked down at where Kurt’s hand was gripping Blaine’s elbow. They hadn’t discussed PDA. “If you’re sure?” He hoped Kurt hadn’t heard his voice crack.

“I am,” Kurt assured him. “I’ve been eating nothing but diner food since I started that job, and I was promised an expensive meal with someone’s rich, if not entirely well meaning, parents.”

Blaine let himself laugh at that. Kurt seemed fun, maybe this would be fine, and then his parents would leave him alone for a while.

They arrived at the restaurant before Blaine’s parents, and since Blaine was still too young to drink they both ordered iced teas at the bar, and waited.

“Remember, the only thing we have to make up is the details about our relationship,” Blaine reiterated. They had discussed on the phone that they would tell the truth about as much as they could, so they wouldn’t have to keep track of too many lies. “And If my parents get nosy about you just answer truthfully.”

Kurt nodded. “I remember the plan.”

“Oh, I forgot to say - they aren’t going to expect any PDA, if you’re worried about us not looking like a ‘couple’.” Blaine threw up air quotes around the word couple, then frowned. “I’m sorry, I’m really not an air quote guy.”

Kurt smiled at him, a little wickedly, Blaine thought. “Do you always worry this much when you bring a fake date to meet the parents?” Kurt teased.

Blaine tapped his fingers on the bar, but he couldn’t help giving Kurt a side eye. “I’ll let you know if I ever do it again.” Kurt visibly suppressed a laugh. “But thanks, in advance, for doing this. I really don’t know what I was thinking.”

Kurt looked like he was about to respond, no doubt with something witty, when Blaine spied his mother and father coming into the restaurant. He waved them over.

“Kurt, these are my parents, Pam and Stewart Anderson.”

“It’s really great to finally meet you. Blaine has told me so much about you, I feel like I know you already.” Kurt shook both of their hands confidently.

“That definitely puts you at an advantage,” Blaine’s dad said. “Blaine has told us almost nothing about you.”

“Oh, well,” Kurt was acting surprised, but Blaine knew it was an act. “We can fix that tonight.”

The maitre’d seated them at a table on the restaurant’s upper level. They could see the entire restaurant from where they were and Blaine wondered if his mother had made the request in advance.

“I read about this place in the Times,” Pam said, once they were seated. “It’s a converted church, and the food is Italian-Japanese fusion.” Blaine could see his dad make a face out of his mother’s line of sight.

“I read that piece too,” Kurt said. “There is a six month wait for reservations here. How did you score than on such short notice?”

Blaine watched his mother’s eyes light up as she went into a long explanation about how a woman from her book club knew a guy whose cousin once dated the sous-chef. She loved to talk about her connections. Kurt kept her busy chatting until the waiter came to take their orders.

“So Kurt, are you originally from New York?” Stewart asked, once the waiter had left.

Kurt shook his head. “No, I”m from Ohio, just like Blaine.” When Blaine looks over Kurt is smiling at him like they actually share history. Maybe they do.

“Oh really? Blaine never mentioned that.” Blaine’s dad raised an eyebrow in Blaine’s direction.

“It never really came up,” Blaine mumbled.

“Where in Ohio are you from?” Stewart asked.

“Lima,” Kurt answered. “My dad owns his own garage.”

“Do you park a lot of cars in it?” Pam asked. When Kurt looked confused, she added, “In your garage.”

“No mom,” Blaine corrected her. “Not a garage for parking, a garage for repairing cars.”

“He’s a mechanic,” Kurt adds. “I used to work there during summers, until I decided it wasn’t good for my hair.” Kurt feigned a touch up to his upsweep, and Pam laughed.

“Running a small business is hard work,” Stewart said. “Does it do well?”

Kurt nodded. “Oh yeah, pretty well. Everyone needs their cars to work, and he’s been going at it over twenty years now.”

“That’s impressive,” Stewart said, and Blaine could tell that he meant it. Blaine had been concerned that his parents would be rude about Kurt’s family being more working class than the Andersons, but he could tell that his dad was impressed with Kurt.

“Well, his customers are pretty loyal.”

Stewart nodded, and Blaine felt his chest unravel in relief. He had almost made it through dinner, and his parents seemed to like Kurt - so hopefully they’d stop trying to fix him up. He’d have to remember to send Kurt flowers or something after this was all over.

By the time they ordered dessert Blaine was almost ready to stop worrying. It was almost over, Kurt had not only been great but had also thoroughly impressed Blaine’s parents. Maybe he’d get through this without some kind of disaster.

“You are coming with Blaine to the wedding, I hope?” Blaine’s mother asked as dessert was set in front of them.

“Wedding?” Blaine started to worry again. “What wedding?”

“Your cousin, Michelle. Her wedding is in two weeks Blaine!”

“I never got an invitation to Michelle’s wedding. I didn’t even know she was engaged.” Blaine worked hard not to roll his eyes at his mother.

“Oh of course you’re invited dear, I RSVP’d for all of us. I even let them know you’d be bringing your boyfriend. Six months is certainly long enough to warrant an invite,” she answered breezily, as if Blaine had no other reasonable choice or expectation in the matter.

“Mom,” Blaine sputtered. “You never told me any of this. I have school! And obligations. And Kurt has a job, he can’t just take off at random. These things need planning.”

“He does have a point Pamela,” Blaine’s dad said. “Kids these days have a lot going on.”

Blaine’s mom huffed, and looked back and forth between the boys before pulling herself together. “I was sure I’d mentioned it honey.”

“Well you didn’t.” Blaine startled when he felt a hand on his knee. Kurt squeezed once in a gesture Blaine took as solidarity. Against parents and expectations, against whatever else there was.

“Thank you very much for the invitation, Mrs. Anderson,” Kurt said. “I’ll have to check my schedule and see whether I can make it or not.”

“Of course dear,” Pam answered, but Blaine could tell she was still a little annoyed. “Sebastian Smythe will be there, of course,” she said to Blaine. “I’m sure he can keep you entertained if Kurt can’t make it.”

“Mother!” That was really too much. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Kurt squeezed Blaine’s knee again, and Blaine took a calming breath. “And why on earth would he be at Michelle’s wedding?”

Blaine’s mother looked at him as if he’d asked her why the sun rises in the east. “Do you not pay attention to anything I say? Michele’s fiance is Sebastian’s cousin. Of course he’ll be there.”

Blaine blinked rapidly at his mother. He couldn’t believe his mother was trying to set him up with another guy right in front of his boyfriend. Fine, his totally-not-real boyfriend that he’d only met two days earlier, but she didn’t know that.

“Blaine, sweetheart,” Kurt spoke and drew Blaine’s attention away from his mother, lacing his fingers with Blaine’s under the table and resting them on top of Blaine’s thigh. “It’s fine, I’ll see if I can switch a couple of shifts.” Blaine stared at Kurt. Was he really considering coming to this wedding? That really seemed like it was taking the whole thing a little too far. “We can talk about it later, okay?”

Right. “Okay,” Blaine said. Of course. They couldn’t discuss this in front of Blaine’s parents. At least Kurt was thinking clearly.

Once outside the restaurant they said their goodbyes to Blaine’s parents - Kurt’s fingers still laced together with Blaine’s, in a gesture that should have been uncomfortable given the fact that they barely knew each other. But instead, Blaine found it surprisingly grounding. Without realizing it he had leaned into Kurt’s side, waving at his parents’ taxi as it drove away.

“Oh my god, Kurt, thank you for handling that all so smoothly. I cannot believe how well you dealt with my mother.”

Kurt laughed, shrugging one shoulder. “I’ve seen worse Blaine. They weren’t even in the top ten.”

“Still, thank you. I owe you one.”

“No way,” Kurt objected. “I spilled ice cold water all over your lap, consider us even. Even though I definitely got the better end of this deal. That restaurant was amazing.”

They stood there together awkwardly for a minute, while the rest of New York City rolled past them in a dozen different directions. Blaine wasn’t sure what he should do now. Should he take Kurt home? Offer to pay for a cab? They weren’t really hanging out, so he probably didn’t want Blaine to buy him a drink. No, putting Kurt in a cab home was the correct move.

“Can I ask you a question?” Kurt asked, before Blaine could offer.

“I am totally going to get you a cab home, you don’t have to worry about that.”

“Huh?” Kurt looked puzzled for a second. “Oh no! That’s not what I was going to ask - though I live out in Bushwick and they’re doing track work tonight, so a cab actually sounds great. I wanted to ask though, I hope I’m not overstepping, what are you going to tell them about the wedding?”

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m not going to impose on you any more that I already have.” Blaine shrugged. “This was a crazy idea and I’m just relieved it’s over. I can just tell them you couldn’t get off work, or actually, I’ll tell them we broke up.”

“And this Sebastian guy you’re mom’s so hot on?”

“I’ll figure something out. I don’t want to drag you further into my familial dysfunction and insecurities. You are officially relieved of your fake boyfriend duties.” Blaine gave Kurt a courtly bow. “Thanks for even doing this.”  He paused, then went on, more to himself than to Kurt. “Maybe he’ll just take no for an answer.”

“Who knows? Maybe you’ll wind up liking him?”

“Unlikely.” Blaine smiled and stepped to the curb, successfully hailing a cab without too much of a wait.  “Thanks again,” Blaine said, as he opened the door for Kurt.

Before getting in, Kurt turned to Blaine, his face twisted as if he were considering something very seriously, but then thought better of it.

“It was my pleasure Blaine,” he said, before leaning in and kissing Blaine on the cheek. “See you around.”

[teamhawkeye]

Cross Road Blues

Fandom: FC5/FC3

Characters: Anna Bishop, Hoyt Volker, Sam Becker, Buck Hughes, Willis Huntley, Dennis Rogers, Citra Talugmai, Vaas Montenegro (mentioned only)

Pairing: None

Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, Canon-typical violence (can’t stress these two enough, it’s a Far Cry game fic), minor character death

Word Count: 9,530

Summary: Alone and on the brink, would you accept the hand extended to you when it belonged to sin incarnate? (A FC3 AU starring Anna L. Bishop)

________________________________________________________________

“‘Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?'

'That depends a good deal on where you want to get to,' said the Cat.

'I don't much care where -' said Alice.

'Then it doesn't matter which way you go,' said the Cat.

'- so long as I get SOMEWHERE,' Alice added as an explanation.

'Oh, you're sure to do that,' said the Cat, 'if you only walk long enough.’”

- Lewis Carroll, “Alice In Wonderland”

________________________________________________________________

The bottle in her hand was slammed down unceremoniously on the counter.

“Another.”

The barkeep barely even looked at her as he slid a fresh beer her way. Anna wasn’t all that drunk and she wasn’t bothering anyone, even with as unnecessarily loud and brusque as she was being. Badtown had far worse come through this dive daily – she was actually surprised she hadn’t seen the usual suspects come slinking in yet at noontime. Perhaps they all sensed her foul mood and kept some distance…a wise decision, she guessed, given how agitated she was and willing to look for any excuse to release some of her frustration.

She hadn’t made many friends since leaving the States, even less since arriving unceremoniously on the Rook Islands. So feeling essentially dumped by the two separate anchors she’d come to rely on – both in the span of a single month - had reduced her to day drinking as she did now, sitting sullenly and contemplating her future…or lack thereof.

Maybe that Vaas character was right…she’d hit the ground and no longer had a chance. She should have never jumped from that plane…

____________________________________________________

Anna’d been thinking for some time that she shouldn’t have left the United States. Her whole life, she’d never even seen the West or East Coast – there was so much territory left uncovered she could have explored.

But then Louis Draven had been paroled and common sense had gone out the window.

All her neighbors and family friends in Jackson County had beseeched her to go on vacation, to get away – however far away it may be - and find something else to occupy her mind. They’d all had the good sense to predict that if she remained, some other terrible thing might befall her…or she herself would go seeking trouble.

…they weren’t wrong to worry.

She’d sat for a few days in Chief Deputy Shaw’s living room, surrounded by relics of her past – of photos of her mother and father in their prime smiling down at her – and contemplated her future. Nothing seemed more alluring than seeking out Draven and confronting him; if there was ever a chance at closure for the deaths of her parents, it lay with him.

…but then again, he was the monster in her closet. The nightmare that had plagued her for years, that had completely upended and destroyed her life. A chance at seeing him face-to-face again left her trembling so violently she could scarcely even remember to breathe.

So she’d booked a last minute trip out of Bozeman to California and turned tail and fled.

And after a few days on the coast – finally getting to the see the ocean she’d spent her whole life dreaming about – she’d booked another trip to Thailand at the behest of the hotel concierge. And from Bangkok, she’d been talked into joining some new barcrawling acquaintances in a group skydiving venture over some secluded islands, far from prying eyes.

Every single bad decision – both past and present – led back to Draven. If he had just stayed rotting behind bars like he was supposed to, she would have never been besieged by pirates on that beach and dragged off to be thrown into a cage, readied for auction to the highest bidder. She would have never met Vaas, that psychopath who treaded a dangerous line between absolute insanity and startling clarity. She would have never had to have broken herself free and taken off into the jungle alone, pursued by armed guards, snarling dogs, and even a Black Hawk helicopter.

She might never have taken her first life as she had been forced to during that desperate escape to freedom.

“What do they say in America? ‘There is a first time for everything.’”

Dennis Rogers had told her that at their initial meeting in Amanaki Village. He’d been her first real ally, outside of the scatterbrained Dr. Earnhardt.

And the first person she’d mistakenly put her trust in.

The Rakyat seemed noble enough: they were a people fighting to preserve their home, their islands besieged by chaos and violence. They fought to survive…something she could relate to. And so she’d readily agreed to help them where she could, taking on Vaas’ pirates head on and fighting to reclaim some of their territory for them.

Dennis had promised her an eventual meeting with the Rakyat’s enigmatic leader Citra - the real power and figurehead on the northern islands. Anna wasn’t particularly convinced of the woman, just based on what she’d heard whispered about her; the Rakyat saw her as some sort of warrior goddess and Anna had long since run out of patience with stories of the divine…Still, if anyone would be able to help her return to the mainland and figure a way back home, she was the person who could.

There had been an eventual arranged introduction, after Anna had been escorted to Citra’s mysterious temple in the middle of the jungle; she’d been received with initial warmth in regards to her exploits in the name of the Rakyat, causing hope to blossom in her chest for the first time in weeks. However, the pleasantries had ended there when Citra had quickly made clear she didn’t see their working relationship panning out much further and summarily dismissed her.

“You possess great strength and courage – the makings of a true warrior…but you lack conviction.”

She might as well have just slapped her in the face: it would have left the same mark, the same brand. We appreciate what you have done for us but you will never be one of us, nor will we expend any effort to help you in your quest.

In spite of all the services she did in their name – all the lives she took, civilians she saved, outposts reclaimed – it wasn’t enough. Nothing would ever be enough, she quickly ascertained, even as Dennis tried to assure her otherwise.

“Citra sees the fire in you – but you must embrace it, not run from it.”

She’d seen him only two or three times more after that before being largely relegated to radio calls; now she couldn’t even remember the last time she’d even heard his voice. Those rejections smarted but she’d tried her best not to let it deter her. Especially not after several different sources in Amanaki whispered to her of people in Badtown who might be more willing to help an outsider such as herself. So she’d headed east and sought out the only other major center the northern islands housed…and almost immediately regretted her decision.

Filth lined the streets, with sick and drunken people either ambling about or sprawled out right in the open. Prostitutes were working every corner and there were probably more certifiably insane residents than there were sane ones. Her first minute in Badtown had Anna wondering if she wasn’t the victim of an incredibly malicious and unfunny joke: who on earth could be here that could possibly help her?

It wasn’t until the next day that she spotted him – the man in the white suit. Beyond his incredibly conspicuous choice of attire, he was one of the very few other Caucasians on the islands…picking him out of a crowd wouldn’t have been difficult.  

She had the distinct feeling he knew she was coming into town and let himself be seen; he implied as much without outright saying it when they were alone together in his underground base. He was Willis Huntley, CIA. He was on an important op for the United States government, tracking the activities of one Hoyt Volker and the massive criminal enterprise he’d built on the islands over the years. Did she want to be a true patriot and serve her country, here and now?

Anna would have agreed to just about anything in that moment if it meant scoring a guaranteed ticket home; she’d practically tripped over herself to say yes as it was.

And so she had become an agent of Langley…or an accessory to an agent, as Willis had been quick to inform her. She was by no means truly CIA and her involvement would remain as a footnote in a file that would eventually be buried in the stacks of some warehouse in the future. Fortune and glory had never been what she’d aspired for so it hadn’t hurt her ego in the least – she’d merely taken to her missions with gusto, eager to press forward.

A few burned drug fields, rescue missions for transport manifests, and a few covert spying ops later, she was feeling more secure in her chances of heading home within the next month or so. The Rakyat were managing to hold the ground she had secured for them and were finally giving the pirates enough trouble that they were forced to seek assistance from their mysterious boss, leaving them in a precarious situation. There was only so much left to do on the islands, as far as Anna could tell, before the big guns would sweep in to finally put pressure on the man in charge and force his empire to crumble.

Only fitting, then, that she’d returned to Willis’ shack for further orders and been blindsided her with the news that he was leaving her behind. His operation in the Pacific was over and he was shipping off to Russia to start a new assignment, putting the Rook Islands behind him…never to return.

“What about me?” she’d demanded when she’d regained her tongue. “When do I get to go home?”

“Whenever you can find your own way off this rock,” had been his blunt response.

He’d turned and stared at her while she visibly tried – and failed - to process what she was hearing.

“Your country thanks you for your service…but there’s bigger fish to fry out in Moscow. Hope you have enough money saved to charter a boat, since that’s your best bet of getting back to the mainland.”

That had been all he’d had to say on the matter. He was too busy with packing up his gear to even put much note into how long she lingered, hoping he was joking or that he’d at least give her something more to work with. She’d finally had the sense to drag herself back up the stairs and out into the stagnant Badtown evening air, tail between her legs, when it was clear he was an even bigger asshole that she’d pegged him for at their very first meeting.

Anna’s feet had taken her straight to the bar on the other side of town to drown her misery and ponder her disastrous luck once more…

__________________________________________________________

And there she had remained ever since. She’d poked her head out every now and then to see if Willis would ever show his face again, but she had seen neither hide nor hair of him. It was probably better that way, she realized, as her hurt was replaced with potent rage and despair – she might have slugged him given the chance. Not only was she going to be left behind with no real shot at making it to the mainland for help, he’d effectively handed her a death sentence by having her do all his dirty work in his stead.

It wasn’t just the pirates and Vaas she had antagonized now – she’d kicked the hornet’s nest by attacking Hoyt Volker’s product and sabotaging a handful of his operations. There was no way she’d escape those actions unmarked…it wouldn’t surprise her in the least if there was already a bounty on her head or a hit squad off in search of her.

The Rakyat couldn’t protect her, even if they wanted to (which they didn’t…): they could barely protect themselves. And Willis had effectively wiped his hands of her as he prepared to abscond north and head to his latest assignment. She was back to being on her own in these foreign lands, armed with only her wits and strength to keep her safe...

So, she was thoroughly fucked.

Knocking back another full swig of beer, she grimaced to herself at its strong ethanol kick. Maybe she’d head back to Dr. Earnhardt’s place for a spell while she sorted things out. She knew he’d never turn her away or turn her in: he seemed to have imprinted on her quite a bit. It didn’t take being called “Agnes” one too many times or finding old photographs of his daughter lying around to know she was filling some sort of void for him. She understood the pain of losing family but she wasn’t looking for a father figure…and the affection he doted on her left her feeling uncomfortable. Not because he was overstepping any boundaries – he was a very kind and respectful, albeit strange, man. His warmth simply left her with a painful yearning in her heart for something she’d been missing for so long...

It had made her visits to see him briefer and less frequent as her time on the islands progressed…but maybe this was the universe giving her a sign it was time to return for a lengthier stay. She’d spent time there undisturbed by the doctor’s usual pirate clientele in the past, meaning they hadn’t ever noticed or been clued into her presence. Perhaps there could be a way for her to stay there with Earnhardt and work on getting-

“Anna Bishop.”

It wasn’t a question; she took her time acknowledging, taking a swig from her drink and rolling it over her tongue before finally taking a glance over her shoulder. The men behind her were not what she had expected to see – not at all. They were well equipped - both in Kevlar vests and packing assault rifles – and clearly disciplined based off their rigid stances as they stood waiting at attention. Looking all the part of a PMC…and very much out of place in the shithole they all found themselves in.

“Who’s asking?” she demanded finally, expression trained blank even as she knew just who they worked for and why they were here.

“Mr. Volker wishes to speak with you. Please come with us,” the man on the left stated.

The atmosphere in the room shifted instantly and Anna was suddenly aware of how much of a pariah she’d just been branded; the eyes of the other patrons had all turned towards her, making her feel unspeakably hot under the weight of their stares. Trying not to focus on how her stomach had plummeted at the namedrop, she kept her gaze steady as she looked on as unimpressed as she could manage.

“And if I refuse?” she tested.

Neither man reacted to her bluff, still staring at her unflinchingly.

“We must insist,” the first man said simply.

She briefly weighed her options. Running seemed laughable, almost as much as making a stand did. Her eyes had taken in how trigger ready their fingers were resting on their weapons and knew they’d drop her before she even had time to reach for the pistol tucked into the waistband of her shorts. There was no one to recruit in helping her out around here – most of the locals were petrified of the pirates…and judging by their reactions to the appearance of these soldiers, even more terrified of the man who ranked above Vaas.

Turning back to face the bar, she briefly made eye contact with the bartender; his apprehension was so palpable she could practically taste his fear in the air. With a sigh, she knocked her drink back and set the bottle down with a loud clatter, pushing herself tiredly off her stool. The man on the right extended a hand out towards her; she stared at it wearily for a moment before fishing her pistol out of her waistband and placing it in his grasp.

As it slipped from her fingers, she had to work to control the rapid acceleration of her heartbeat, feeling as if the walls were suddenly closing in on her even as she was led outside and underneath nothing more than the burning glare of the Pacific sun.

__________________________________________________________

They’d chauffeured her straight to a helicopter waiting on the beach. And not some cheap passenger bird – a Black Hawk by the looks of it. She’d never been in a chopper before…hadn’t been in a plane until she left the States however long ago that was now, she couldn’t quite be sure…

It was better than being in cramped economy class, she supposed; but it was hard to feel anything other than anxiety as they crossed the sea and headed for the southern islands. There was a knot in her stomach that only grew tighter with each passing minute, amplified each time her eyes left the water below and back to her traveling companions. They were at ease, but she could see their fingers close to their triggers and knew that if she tried to pull anything before they landed, they’d riddle her with lead and dump her body in the ocean without care.

There was far less jungle on the southern isles – and far less natives. From the height they were cruising, there was nary a village or outpost unoccupied by privateers in sight. She’d heard Hoyt took issue with the locals and Rakyat but the legitimacy of such a claim became abundantly clear on his home turf. Even without setting a single foot on the ground, she could tell they ran a tighter ship over here…one she would not be able to bail from so easily.

She was starting to realize the knot in her stomach was a warning of perhaps more than just the end of this journey…

The massive concrete walls in the distance had to be their destination – it didn’t take a genius to figure out that was Hoyt Volker’s HQ. The compound was really more of a fortress: beyond the giant walls, all topped with barbed wire, there were checkpoints and armed guards at every single point of entry. There were soldiers wandering the street and sentries outside ever building on the premise, placing eyes and ears in just about every corner. Anna took in the sight of all of the security measures – all of the armed men prepared to rain fire upon their employer’s enemies - and felt something akin to acceptance settle into her chest, easing some of the sickness in her stomach…

The chopper had barely set down just outside the sprawling complex before the soldiers at her side were grabbing her by the arms and dragging her back out under the sun. It surprised her they’d been so benign up until now – being in sight of their boss and peers must have fueled their aggression and she knew better than to resist now. They paraded her through the streets, drawing every pair of eyes onto her as she struggled to match their pace. She was taken into the largest building at the heart of the compound and straight for the staircase at its center; it was all she could do to keep herself from stumbling on any of the steps, trying as hard as possible to maintain whatever dignity she had left even as her heart thundered in her chest with terror.

They marched her through a pair of large, opened doors and into a sprawling office space overlooking the front courtyard and the river beyond the perimeter wall. The large leather armchair behind the desk was occupied but turned away and facing the large windows as Anna was dragged before it by her escorts.

“Anna Bishop for you, sir,” the man on her left announced simply.

Anna had only seen Hoyt Volker twice before now, both times at a distance. He wasn’t physically imposing, in the sense that he was very lean and lithe…but he had an aura of absolute menace that made all the hair on the back of her arms and neck stand on end as he turned in his chair to face them. The man took in the sight of her with a smile, looking remarkably pleased to see her.

“Ah, there you are! So good of you to accept my invitation to meet.”

Had her courage not abandoned her long before her arrival here, she might have leapt on that statement with a scathing retort. Instead, she could only hold her silence and try to keep her gaze steady as he gave her a thorough onceover. Finally, he made a dismissive gesture with his hands she quickly realized was not meant for her.

“Leave us.”

The soldiers released her and turned without another word; she fought the urge to rub the skin on her arms where their fingers had dug in, merely watching as they filed back out the way they came, shutting the doors noisily behind them.

Leaving Hoyt and her finally alone…

There was an unbearable silence that reined between them for several moments that left Anna feeling dizzy with apprehension as she turned back to face him, taking in the way he was gazing at her. Finally, he gave her a smile and gestured towards the chair across from him.

“Come. Sit.”

She didn’t want to – her base instinct of digging in her heels was replaced by the overwhelming urge to turn tail and flee. But she made herself walk slowly towards the offered seat and planted herself in it, trying to look braver than she felt.

Hoyt had an unwavering stare that made her feel smaller than she already was. Still, she forced herself to meet his gaze head on, her heart pounding so loudly in her chest she swore he could hear it. The silence was unnerving and she had a feeling he was letting it drag on longer than necessary to rattle her cage.

“You’re a difficult woman to get ahold of,” he said finally, looking amused. “There’s only so many…civilized places on these islands. And you seem to make very few appearances in them.”

He already knew she had been doing that on purpose – staying disconnected from his network of spies and informants who might lay eyes on her – so she didn’t bother with a redundant answer.

“Self-reliant. I like that,” he admitted. “There’s only one person you can truly rely on in this world to take care of you…and that is yourself.”

A lesson she’d long since learned; still, to hear it from him, made her already queasy stomach feel worse. It made her realize that somewhere in his past, there was a connection to her own…neglect, abuse, betrayal…

“Do you smoke?” he asked suddenly.

She swallowed thickly as she tried to regain her capacity for speech.

“On occasion,” she managed to force out, softer than intended.

Her eyes watched his hands as he reached into his desk and brought forth a box of cigars; he hadn’t asked what she smoked and she had to wonder if he knew that she’d only had cigars since arriving on the islands. She reached forward hesitantly as he offered one to her, careful not to let their fingers touch.

There was only a moment to sit awkwardly with the unlit stogie in her grasp before Hoyt produced struck a match and held it out to her. The only way to accept was to lean forward across the table towards him, forcing her eyes to leave him for the first time since entering the office. When she finally drew back and brought her gaze quickly back to him, she found his eyes had never left her, still watching her every move.

Hoyt’s eyes were a curious shade of green that could almost be described as pretty…if there wasn’t such sinister intent behind them. Just as she was starting to feel herself start to sweat under the weight of his stare, he turned his eyes from her and down to his desk. She watched as he flipped open the small booklet before him and took in the familiar sight of her portrait in its corner.

“Anna L. Bishop. Born 27 November 1993…only 18,” he stated, looking between her passport and her face.

She tried not to squirm under his roving eyes, finally taking a drag from her cigar to help steady her nerves.

“You look it,” he acknowledged after a moment. “But after all the trouble you’ve caused, I’d have thought you were at least mid-20s. And trained by the military…or police…”

He reached for something else that immediately caught her eye, her heart stopping at the familiar glint of gold between his fingers. She watched him brandish the badge, her eyes glued to it, as he stared her down.

“A tad young to be sheriff,” he surmised correctly.

“…it was my father’s,” she managed to force out eventually.

“Ah. Dear old dad…won’t be missing this, will he?”

“Probably not. He’s been dead for years.”

“Hmm. And mummy?”

“Same for her.”

There was a momentary beat of silence where she forced her eyes towards the cigar smoking between her fingers, frantically working to recompose herself. Hoyt discarded the badge carelessly back onto the surface of his desk and it took all of her strength not to let herself look at it again, taking another puff from her stogie instead to ease her frayed nerves.

“You’re not military, you’re not police…”

His gaze was unrelenting as he pinned her to the spot.

“So how is it that you’re running around out there making professionals look like a bunch of fucking children in a sandbox?”

She swallowed around the lump in her throat, thinking over her response carefully. In the end, when she finally returned his stare, she chose honesty.

“It’s me or them. I’m just out there doing what it takes to survive.”

Hoyt scoffed, laughing lightly beneath his breath.

“Survival would be hiding beneath some rock and avoiding attracting any attention to yourself. Instead you’re leading raids on Vaas’ men, burning down fields and blowing up weapons caches.”

He wasn’t wrong but she held her tongue and watched as he visibly weighed his next choice of words.

“I’m not bothered by you fighting your way to freedom. Or the men you killed, or the trouble you’ve been giving my boy Vaas,” he said finally.

This is the calm before the storm, she realized suddenly.

“What I can’t have is you destroying my product, my property!”

Her heart was racing even as she tried not to give a reaction to his shout; still, when his hand had swung down towards the desk’s surface, she’d flinched, unable to stop herself from closing her eyes in preparation for a hit that never came. She only gave herself a moment or two to steady her breathing before forcing her gaze back on him, taking in his scorching glare as evenly as she could.

Several seconds passed before he finally leaned back into his chair, his gaze softening ever so slightly as she brought the cigar back to her lips and took another puff.

“Fortunately for you, the pirates you killed in that last little stunt were all stealing from me.”

How convenient.

Still, she could hardly believe anyone would be ballsy enough to try and rip off Hoyt Volker. She understood those who crossed him seldom lived to tell the tale - had observed as much back at Beras Town when he’d forced those people through the minefield for taking his transport manifest.

Then again, until recently, she had been actively undermining all his operations with gusto…perhaps being far removed from the man and his presence gave an inflated sense of confidence. Sitting before him, as she did now, was an entirely different thing altogether: she couldn’t imagine taking him head on anymore.

“The plan was always to burn the cut they intended to sell and then be rid of them…You did me a favor handling that all in one go. So, I’m going to cut you a break.”

The look she sent him must have spelled out her disbelief as he spread out his arms as if to wave away her suspicions.

“Clean slate. Back at square one.”

“Square one,” she repeated hollowly.

Her mind placed her back to that night in the cage, before she’d broken free and ran from an armed pursuit into the jungle. She knew from the start they were going to sell all their captives off - the pirates’ chatter had left her with no doubts about that, long before Vaas had dangled the impending danger in front of her. First they ransomed off their prey…only to then auction them off to the highest bidder anyway.

If Hoyt still meant to make a buck off her…

“It’s just me…,” she spoke up finally, trying to keep her voice steady. “I don’t have any money to pay a ransom. I...”

A lump formed in her throat voicing that last statement and she quickly swallowed around it, working hard not to crack. She’d run out of tears a long time ago – she’d be damned to have that change now in front of Hoyt of all people.

“Negotiations generally go better if you don’t play all your cards at once,” he advised with a hint of amusement.

Probably true. Still…

“We’re a bit beyond bullshitting each other at this point,” she stated plainly. “I know when to fold a bad hand.”

His eyes seemed to sparkle at such a statement but she wasn’t sure what it was that he latched onto; she could only watch as he rose from his chair and circled the desk to come stand before her. As he loomed over her, she could barely keep herself from shaking, even as he reached out and grasped her chin in his hand, tilting her face upward. Hoyt’s eyes seemed to bore into hers and it was all she could do keep from shutting hers tightly to escape from some of his intensity.

“Such a rare thing, eyes like that,” he noted. “Plenty would pay a fortune for a pretty girl with different colored eyes.”

Her heart lurched in her chest but she held his gaze, letting her gaze harden to steel. Terrified as she may be, anyone trying to buy her would be met with resistance. She was a fighter, through and through, and would be damned if she didn’t go down without a fight…

“If I were to sell you,” he continued, finally letting her face slip from his fingers. “But I don’t want to do that.”

The look she gave him conveyed her disbelief; his hands rose in a gesture of good faith.

“Really I don’t. You fought hard for your freedom. And I’m inclined to give it to you…”

She watched him warily as he leaned back on the desk behind him, regarding her with a suddenly neutral expression.

What’s the chance he actually intends to let me walk outta here?

Slim to none, she wagered. In spite of his assertion of a “clean slate”, she didn’t see him allowing her to skip town after everything she had done. After everything she had seen. The drugs, the smuggling, the kidnappings and the murders she had witnessed in her short time here must only scratch the surface of all the dark deeds being undertaken on the Rook Islands.

She wouldn’t have the first clue who to approach back on the mainland, but her testimony could surely get something in the works…couldn’t it? Hoyt had to know that – he was already 5 steps ahead of her, it seemed, and knew the danger she presented left to her own devices. No, she didn’t see herself getting to leave this all behind…she could only see this ending one way…

“Work for me, kid.”

Nothing could have prepared her for a job offer – not when she was readying herself for death instead. Anna could only blink, unable to keep the shock from her face as she stared up at him in disbelief.

“You’re young, talented…a bit green, but you show real promise,” he said casually, making the situation seem all the more absurd.

He circled back around the desk and sat himself back down in his armchair; she watched as he produced another cigar from his box and lit it for himself, taking his time savoring the initial drag before addressing her again.

“You’ll be compensated accordingly…a roof over your head, real food, neither of which I know you were getting in those savage towns or the jungle.”

…that was all certainly enticing, she wouldn’t lie. Starvation and restless nights weren’t unfamiliar to her but it still wasn’t wonderful to be experiencing them once more. The promise of a decent bed and square meals certainly had her thinking it over…

“And - best of all - you get to keep doing what you do best. Only in my name now; you go where I tell you to go, and you shoot who I tell you to shoot,” he told her, gesturing with his cigar animatedly.

Anna swallowed thickly, feeling the saliva in her mouth turn acrid at his words. It had…troubled her, to say the least, at just how easily she’d taken to killing. After that first pirate in her escape from Vaas’ camp, it had become almost second nature: she barely even blinked when taking a life anymore. She hadn’t been lying to Hoyt minutes prior when she chalked it all up to survival…but perhaps it went a bit beyond that.

Hoyt, at the very least, seemed to understand that. Otherwise, he probably wouldn’t be casting this pitch here and now. He thought she belonged among his ranks…working in the service of a slaver and drug lord. She hadn’t forgotten what he was or how he made his money; all his praise and honeyed words couldn’t take that knowledge from her…

He must have read the indecision on her face, given how pensive he seemed from a moment prior.

“But I understand this is big commitment, and one not taken on lightly. So…name your price.”

Anna stared at him, not quite comprehending.

“What do you mean?” she finally dared to ask.

“Anything you want…within reason,” he amended after a moment, taking a puff from his cigar. “Name it and its yours.”

What could she possibly want from him – what could he possibly give her? Her eyes darted to the far corner of the desk and the shiny gold star winking at her from it.

“I want that back,” she said quickly, gesturing for the badge.

He placed it down on the desk before her and she had to force herself not to snatch it up in the same moment. Having it back in her grasp lifted an enormous weight off her shoulders, letting her breathe normally for the first time in weeks. Her thumb slid over the shield, following the smooth trail she’d worn meticulously over the years and felt the familiar comfort and strength it lent her seep into her chest. She only allowed herself a few strokes before burying it deep in the pocket of her shorts, far from Hoyt’s prying eyes, still watching her every move.

“I was going to offer that back to you anyway,” he told her simply, leaning forward once more. “It’s meaningless to me – and probably just about everyone else. So, as a gesture of good faith, name something else.”

Anna could only stare at him, seeing how he waited in anticipation for a response and realized he was being sincere. What else could she ask for? Not her freedom, obviously, since he wanted her staying here and working for him – but what else did she want?

There was so little she craved. Money wasn’t a priority, nor was status. She would be content with so little if she could just live comfortably and in relative anonymity…all of which waited for her back in-

No, it doesn’t, a voice in her head warned suddenly, conjuring up a familiar face in her mind’s eye.

Her blood ran cold as she thought of Louis Draven once more. Everything always linked back to him – everything was always his fault. Her parents, her time in foster care, all the abuse and neglect she’d suffered, her decision to skip town and come out here-!

Wrath consumed her, causing reason to abandon her. Swallowing thickly around the angry lump that had formed in the back of her throat, she tried to keep her voice from shaking as she spoke.

“There’s a man back in the States: Louis Draven….say I wanted his head-”

“Done.”

Her eyes snapped back to Hoyt instantly, some of her rage tempered by disbelief.

“Just like that?”

He merely shrugged.

“Simple enough.”

“You don’t need to know why?” she pressed.

“You’ve got your reasons – good ones, I’m sure,” he said simply. “We’ll leave it at that.”

He levelled her with a stare.

“But know that if I do this for you, you’ve signed a contract with me. Your life becomes mine.”

There was something more than just sinister in his choice of words…but all she could think of was the smile on Draven’s face when he’d walked away from her father, bleeding out in her arms in the middle of Main Street. Her eyes were hard as stone as she stared back at Hoyt.

“You get him for me, I’m all yours,” she insisted.

If he kept his word, she meant it. But she had her doubts – no one delivered on such promises. Kind of like when the judge looked her in the eye and told her Draven would never see the light of day again after being thrown behind bars…

Still, when Hoyt smirked and reached a hand out across the desk, she took it without hesitation, shaking it firmly. An even if he didn’t make good on his word, she might have a better shot of finding help here on the northern islands than back in Badtown or Amanaki. Maybe Hoyt’s apparent interest and attention would wane and she could slip onto a boat bound for the mainland and there would be no real fuss over her vanishing. She could play the long con, if that’s what it took…with any luck, she’d be back in the States in a short while, putting this whole fever dream behind her for good.

She kept that in mind, even as a sudden heaviness in her chest cautioned her of who she had just signed her soul over to.

____________________________________________________________

Nearly two months had passed and Anna remained in the belly of the beast – but all things considered, it wasn’t so bad, she supposed.

Cutting a deal with the man pulling all the strings had immediate benefits: unlike previous agreements she had entered into with others on the Rook Islands, Hoyt actually came through for her. Real, decent food she didn’t have to scrounge for, a solid roof over her head, and an actual mattress to sleep on had her ready to speak all the words he wanted her to say a hundred times over.

The Privateers weren’t the best people to be suddenly thrust into the mix of…especially not as the lone female among their ranks. There were eyes constantly on her, making her feel next to naked just walking the streets as she learned the layout of her new home. Most kept their distance, either maintaining silence or simply catcalling as she passed. Others were bold, putting themselves in her space and forcing her to contend with their unwanted attention and defuse as skillfully as she could.

It had taken just one man going a bit too far to finally have someone step in. One of the tallest, most intimidating men she’d seen in her time at the Compound came forward and immediately had her intimidator on guard as he sized him up.

“No one messes with this one or they go straight to Hoyt,” the tall man said in a thick German accent that perfectly matched his physical appearance. “Boss’s orders.”

And that was that. The harassment all came from afar from that moment onward – and she had become fairly attached to Sam Becker, her unexpected knight in shining armor. He’d actually supervised some of her training and seemed to be grooming her to join his squad out in the field in the future.

Out of all the possibilities that laid out for her, that one was indeed the most promising. The longer she stayed here, the less certain she was that trying to make a break for the mainland was even possible. Most of the men who served here were bastards and would sooner sell her out if she approached them with such a conspiracy instead of offering a hand; those who were more decent, such as Sam and several others she had grown friendly with, would likely caution her against crossing Hoyt in such a way. He’d extended mercy to her once before – he would not do it again.

For the most part, she didn’t see too much of Hoyt himself. He was busy running his empire and she was fully occupied with being put through the paces of becoming a Privateer. The training was rather intense – she didn’t have military history like most of the men around her and hadn’t been prepared to be dropped into boot camp – but she put in her best and tried keeping pace.

When the boss did deign to drop by, it was almost always to look in on her and whatever she was being subjected to. It was a seemingly average day when he made one such unannounced visit while she was in the midst of target practice with a handful of others.

“Anna.”

Nobody ever called her Anna, as she’d said time and again. But Hoyt Volker wasn’t nobody. And he didn’t take “no” for an answer so she hadn’t bothered correcting him like she did with everyone else. She turned towards him instantly, abandoning her company at the drop of a hat; none of them protested, all knowing what happened to those who thwarted their boss’s even most inconsequential whims.

He actually waited for her to join him at his side and she was immediately suspicious of how pleased he looked with himself.

“I have a present for you,” he taunted.

Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly before she could even think to conceal her skepticism; she was a second too slow, based on Hoyt’s laughter. Had it been anyone else, he might not have reacted so well to such insolence, but for some reason, he seemed to indulge hers to a degree.

“Walk with me,” he commanded.

It was a strange request but she didn’t dare question him and easily fell into step behind him. Still, as he led them away from the range and back towards the center of the Compound, she could feel her brow furrowing with confusion. Hoyt wasn’t one for silence and his quiet left her feeling deeply unsettled. Either he was deep in thought or he was unhappy…and she finally thought to be more worried about where he was taking her as he led her down into the basement of the main complex.

She didn’t need to be told what happened down here: the sight of the cells that lined either wall and the heavy aroma of sweat and fear were all the indications she required. It left her throat dry, wondering just what reason she was being brought down here for. Hoyt had called it a “present”…but was he merely toying with her? Did he have any reason to suspect she was still harboring a desire to skip town at the first chance?

As he led her towards the furthest cell back, the man she had come to know as Buck exited through its door. He spoke to Hoyt in a low tone that had the other man chuckling under his breath before waving him away. Anna watched in silence as Buck sauntered off, but not before casting a wink her way. Immediately, her hackles raised; she didn’t know him well but she knew enough about Buck Hughes to be deeply wary and unsettled by him. She didn’t have time to watch his departure as Hoyt gestured her into the cell first.

Hesitantly, she approached before nearly stopping dead at the sight before her. There was a man inside, tied to a chair and beaten to a pulp. His head was drooped over his chest, obscuring his face from view; Anna could only stare in confusion as Hoyt passed by her and towards him, circling around behind him.  

“A deal is a deal,” he told her pointedly.  

She struggled to find the words to voice her confusion just as he grabbed the other man’s hair and brought his head back up straight. Anna’s heart stopped in her chest the moment she recognized just who was before her.

That face…she’d never forget that face. Not even bruised and broken as it was now. It haunted her...she saw it when she closed her eyes, she saw it when she slept…

She couldn’t have predicted that Hoyt would have hand delivered Louis Draven to her. Beyond the doubt that he would make good on his word at all, she’d just assumed she’d be told that he was taken care of. Having him here, before her, for the first time since his sentencing all those years back…

“Well, I imagine you have some catching up to do,” Hoyt said cheerfully, dropping his hold on Draven and striding back towards her.

Hoyt’s hands were suddenly on her shoulders, anchoring her to the reality of the situation: this was real, this was actually happening. He leaned in close and she felt the warmth of his breath on her cheek.

“Take as long as you need,” he told her.

She felt his fingers slip away and heard his footsteps dissipate as he walked off.

Leaving her and Draven alone…

For a long time, she remained rooted to the spot, merely staring at the man before her. He barely acknowledged her, head rolling from side to side as he contended with the pain from his previous beatings. Buck must have been the one to put him through the wringer – she didn’t feel sorry for him in the slightest but she could practically feel Draven’s pain as he sat there breathing heavily.

For so long, she’d seen him as only a monster. Some sort of shadowy specter that was untouchable. Seeing him bleed reminded her he was just as human as she was. It finally gave her some power over him.

“Do you remember me?” she spoke up, softer than she intended.

“Fuck you,” Draven slurred after a minute.

“Do you. Remember. Me?” she demanded, voice rising sharply as she took a step forward.

Draven cast a tired, irritated glance her way but he did make an effort, sizing her up.

“No,” he said finally.

“March 8, 2004,” she stated stiffly, stalking closer. “Mountainview, Montana. You gunned down the sheriff and his wife in broad daylight on Main Street.”

She watched the surprise blossom in his one good eye and felt herself begin to quake with rage. Her fingers curled into fists at her sides.

“They had their daughter with them. You didn’t kill her.”

He was silent for some time, staring openly at her.

“You gotta be fucking shitting me – you?”

Anna stepped closer, eyes brimming with the full hatred of the last 7 years.

“Me.”

Draven sneered, showing her bloody teeth.

“Well look at you, all grown up…and working for some thugs. Parents would be so proud-”

“You don’t get to talk about them!” she shouted.

She had to wait for some of the red to bleed out of her vision; everything was so loud and moving so fast, much like her heart thundering in her chest. Inhaling and exhaling through her nose rapidly, she fought to regain any of her composure.

“And you don’t get to judge me for how I’ve survived up until now. I wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for you.”

“So that’s my fault too-“

“Yes. It is,” she snarled. “If you hadn’t killed my parents, none of this would have happened! If you had just stayed in prison like you were fucking supposed to-!”

“I did my time.”

“You were handed a life sentence,” she hissed. “Just because you managed to exploit some fucking loophole and get out does not mean you ‘did your time.’ There will never be enough time on this earth to make right what you did to my family, to me.”

“Your old man killed my brother, did they ever tell you that?” he asked.

“For trying to kill him – and several civilians,” she snapped. “It was his job to stop him.”

“Still killed him.”

“You killed both of my parents.”

“It was revenge.”

“So is this.”

He glared at her through his shark-like black eyes.

“Bite me.”

Anna surprised herself with the cruel bark of laughter that ripped from her throat.

“You took everything from me. My parents, my home, my life – every terrible foster home I got shoved into, every time I got beaten and smacked around, every hardship I’ve faced these past years is all on you. That all falls back on you and what you did that day,” she spat.

He remained silent, his glare shifting from her to the wall as he exhaled in pain, finally letting his tough guy act fall through. Anna stared at him for a long time, taking in his state as she attempted to rein herself back in. Her rage sat hot and tight in her chest and the back of her throat, making it hard to even try and sort through her thoughts. But there was still a question that needed answering – something that had plagued her for so long…

She swallowed around the lump in her throat and gave herself a second before pushing forward.

“Have you ever once felt any regret for what you did?”

“No.”

His response was fast but concise: she didn’t doubt his sincerity. It didn’t make the feeling in her chest any better but at least there wasn’t the problem of guessing if he was lying to her or not.

“Given the chance…”

She turned back towards him with surprise, waiting for him to continue. He rolled his head back to stare at her, a nasty smirk on his lips…the same one she remembered from so long ago-

“I’d do it all over again, just the same.”

Her hand flew down to her holster before she even had time to think. The Glock in her hand fired off two rounds, one into each knee. His screams made her stomach turn but she refused to look away, watching him writhe.

“You bitch! You fucking bitch!”

She reholstered her pistol with shaking fingers, trying to regain control over herself. The action had been so kneejerk – she wasn’t even sure if it’s what she intended this all to lead up to. It would be an outright lie if his pain didn’t bring her any pleasure…but by and large, she just grew angrier with each passing second.

It didn’t take much for her to realize that she had reached the point of no return. What she had done just now already spoke volumes …what came next would absolutely define her for the rest of her life. Anna shut her eyes and inhaled deeply, trying to sift pass the cold, angry voice in her head that called for blood – had called for it for so long - to see if this was actually what she wanted.

“I should…have killed you too,” he wheezed out finally. “That’s my one regret.”

When she turned back towards him, her eyes were filled with cold resolution.

“Yeah. You should have.”

His eyes went instantly to her holster as she strode towards him, but her fingers went straight down to the sheath attached to her boot instead. He didn’t deserve quick or relatively painless – this was too personal. Draven had a moment to take in the sight of the blade before her hand arched and brought it down straight into his chest.

It was nothing but reflex at this point – she barely even reacted to his gargled exclamation before she pushed the knife in further. She let it sit for a few moments, before retracting quickly, ignoring the sudden warm spray on her cheek as she brought it down again.

He finally looked to her and she forced herself to meet his eye. For a moment, she remembered that smirk he’d given when he’d ran out of bullets and walked away from her family in the street, leaving her cradling her father while he bled out. Now Draven was the one dying, his blood covering her hands…only she had no smile for him. There was no happiness to be found in this act, only hatred and wrath. Anna made sure to hold his gaze as he slipped away, the light fading from his eyes as he finally slumped over and struggled no more.

She wasn’t sure how much time passed – it felt like both a second and an eternity – before she pulled the knife out and stumbled back a step or two. Her gaze couldn’t leave his face – at his still open, lifeless eyes, vacant and unseeing – as she panted for breath, standing in the center of the cell with silence as her only remaining companion.

Her father’s badge, safely tucked away in one of the pockets on her pants, felt suddenly heavy. Like it knew what she had just done and was reminding her of the gravity of her actions. She didn’t dare reach for it, hands slick with Draven’s blood, the knife still clutched tightly between her fingers.

Slowly, she lifted the blade to wipe clean on her sleeve. She didn’t trust herself to use any of Draven’s clothing for the task – she didn’t want to set foot near him again and chance unleashing more of that fury on his corpse. His death didn’t bring her the closure she’d hoped: killing him hadn’t brought back her parents. It didn’t undo all the injustices she had endured or take away the pain she felt.

All it did was stoke the anger inside her.

Still…even if justice hadn’t been served, vengeance had been claimed. In the end, she supposed, that was all that mattered. It was over and done, nothing further to be gained; she’d just have to accept that.

After several moments of staring at the limp body across from her, she forced herself to turn and exit the cell. Out in the hall, she felt she could finally breathe again, inhaling shakily through her mouth. It was like she’d suddenly become present again after being removed from time and space – that had actually just happened, it wasn’t something she’d imagined. The blood on her hands and face seemed to have gained weight, making her hyperaware of their presence; it didn’t leave her feeling sick as she expected…just inexplicably calm as she navigated her way back out of the cellblock.

Hoyt was at the surveillance desk when she reached the end of the hall, eyes already looking to catch sight of her as she rounded the corner. Anna realized he had been watching through the camera feed and had witnessed everything that had just transpired. A knot formed in her stomach at such a deeply personal moment being watched by an outsider…but knew it would have never taken place without his orchestration and tried to smother the feeling as best she could. His smile of approval greeted her as she drew closer, spreading his hands out in question.

“Satisfied?” he asked simply.

Anna couldn’t be sure that was the word she’d use to describe how she was feeling…but it was probably the closest to catharsis she’d ever reach. Searching for the right response, she found that there wasn’t anything remotely poignant or intelligent she could provide.

“Thank you,” she managed to force out quietly.

Hoyt merely shrugged, looking unfazed.

“Merely upholding my part of the bargain,” he reminded her, watching her closely.

Her eyes flitted to him, voice returning with a sense of conviction.

“I’m with you,” she said earnestly. “Here on out, I’m yours.”

She meant every word.

Perhaps there was no coming back from this – no redemption, no absolution. But maybe it was better this way…maybe it’s what she actually wanted. She’d struggled so long with the feelings of darkness within her soul – finally given the chance to act upon them, there had been no hesitation, no doubt…

Absolutely no regret.

Maybe she did belong here with Hoyt and his men after all. He was giving her a look of approval that she’d be damned to deny didn’t make her feel sinfully justified.The desire to return home was non-existent in her now: this was home, wherever Hoyt was. She’d follow him to the ends of the earth, into Hell itself if he asked her to; she owed him a debt she could never repay.

The darkness didn’t seem so scary now, not when she walked side-by-side with what lurked in it. There was no place for any light in that inky blackness…she’d have to leave it behind in order to move ahead.

That suited Anna just fine. 

______________________________________________________

“Yeoo, standin' at the crossroad, tried to flag a ride Ooo eee, I tried to flag a ride Didn't nobody seem to know me, babe, everybody pass me by Standin' at the crossroad, baby, risin' sun goin' down Standin' at the crossroad, baby, eee, eee, risin' sun goin' down I believe to my soul, now, poor Bob is sinkin' down”

Robert Johnson, “Cross Road Blues”

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Author’s Notes: I’ve replayed FC3 a lot the past month and a half and it had me thinking...Jason Brody was 25 and stranded with friends and family to look after when he arrived on the Rook Islands. My girl Anna Bishop would have only been 18 in 2012 when the game’s timeline is set, with no family and no friends to speak of. It had me wondering just how differently things would have played out with her in a leading role as opposed to Jason.

No attachments means less danger...but also greater loneliness and despair. And she didn’t have what Citra wanted in the end so I saw her path diverging substantially from Jason’s. Aside from how charismatic I find Hoyt, I also felt that Anna would be more susceptible to him and what he had to offer than Jason ever was. It also would open up the door for future interactions with Vaas, Sam, and even Buck going this route so i ended up typing up this little story as a way to kill time between writing some of my FC5 stuff.

[nikkigrand]

Fic Start-up Dump

This is a long one! But here are all of my stories I started and probably never will continue lol

Sakura-centric “Sakura is a necromancer.”

When Sakura had been born, a crow had crashed through the window to then die at the foot of Mebuki’s hospital bed.

She’d never believed in bad omens; but as she held her precious minutes old daughter closer to herself—her mother in law whispering prayers in the background and Mebuki’s own mother hastily disposing of the dead bird—she knew that fate would only make it so that she’d soon believe.

--

Sakura had been four when it first happened.

Mebuki and Kizashi had gotten their precocious child a puppy for her 4th birthday. Mebuki had been accosted and begged for a pet for nearly three months before she and her husband gave in and bought a puppy from a neighbor. They didn’t even know what breed it was; but it was a small thing, quite the runt of the litter, and Sakura had loved it dearly.

When the poor thing soon died from what the Inuzuka’s diagnosed as the parvovirus, Mebuki and Kizashi thought that it’d be a good opportunity to introduce the concept of death to their little girl. After all, they lived in a shinobi village and death was their people’s livelihood.

If she had known that doing so would induce such horrible sequence of events, Mebuki would have told Sakura that the damn thing had run away and be done with it.

The couple went home with the dead puppy nestled tenderly into a nondescript, white shoe box. She’d carried it with a heavy heart, knowing that she’d soon be witness to her precious child’s first heartbreak.

Of course, when they told Sakura, the small pink haired girl had wailed and sobbed for nearly an hour. To appease her, Kizashi suggested they hold a small funeral for their smallest friend, and it was the only thing that had made Sakura stop crying.

Mebuki watched over Sakura as she gathered flowers from her mother’s garden, then as she scribbled the puppy’s name in her childish writing—backwards characters and all—on a flat stone. Kizashi gathered the other members of their family—which were only her mother and grandmother—before he then began to dig a small hole in the backyard in silence.

Sakura, with her small, innocent hands had laid their pet to rest. She’d adjusted the shoe box lovingly into the ground, bowed her head to say a choppy prayer she must have overheard from her grandmother, and then swept the soil over the box.

Mebuki had never been more proud of her daughter as she’d been on that cool spring afternoon. Her daughter, who held such compassion and love in her small body that the only way to stop the flow of her tears was by giving her first friend a proper burial.

The family collectively said a prayer for the puppy whose life was so brief then shuffled back inside their normally cheery home. She’d only chanced a look back when she noticed that Sakura was not with them, and saw that the rosette child was still gazing sadly at her makeshift tombstone.

“Sakura?” Mebuki had called, “Let’s go back inside, sweetheart.”

Sakura shook her head, her short locks sticking to her baby tearstained cheeks, “Not yet, Mama. I need to say good-bye.”

Nodding, Mebuki’s lips curled into a small smile and she headed inside to make her baby girl some lemonade and her favorite treat—umeboshi. Maybe that would cheer her up.

She must have been in the kitchen for only ten minutes when the sound of Sakura’s cheery laughter made her fumble the knife in her hand. Cursing when the sharp blade sliced into her palm, Mebuki hastily wrapped a napkin around her hand to stop the bleeding before curiously peeking out the kitchen window into the backyard.

Mebuki’s face paled, her jaw going slack, at the sight of her precious baby playing with their deceased family pet.

KakaSaku Age Swap “Sakura-sensei awoke the beast”

In Kakashi’s, admittedly short, lifetime, he’d never paid attention to the fairer sex. He didn’t find anything wrong with them, but he didn’t find them interesting either. Where Obito gushed over Rin’s pretty hair or pretty eyes, Kakashi complimented her medical ninjutsu and usefulness to the team. To him, girls were just boys with different parts. He didn’t see the point in crushes when he could be training; he didn’t understand why Naruto-baka-sensei got all tongue tied around his pink haired teammate, or why his father’s eyes lingered on Ayame-nee’s chest.

He understood attraction, in theory, but it just didn’t rank high in his list of priorities. There was too much to do, too many jutsu to invent, too many records to break. Girls and their soft parts were just another distraction he didn’t care for and Kakashi had been content with his feelings on the matter.

But then his stupid, dumbass, idiot, sunshine happy sensei came down with a bad case of the flu in July and everything had just gone downhill from there.

“I’m sorry, guys,” Baka-sensei sniffled, blowing into a handkerchief. “I’m really sick and won’t be able to teach you guys for a bit.”

Rin gasped, the dramatically empathetic thing she was, eyes wide as she asked, “Will you be alright, sensei?!”

Naruto-sensei nodded, loudly blowing his nose. “Yeah, but Sakura-chan says I should be resting and she’ll kill me if she knows I’m out here with you guys instead of—”

“That’s right, Moron, you’re supposed to be in bed.”

 ItaSaku Soulmate AU

It was a truth universally acknowledged among shinobi that no one wanted a soul mark. 

It was always too painful, no matter the circumstance, to have someone's dying words branded onto your skin. Some people never knew their soulmates, others until it was too late, and it always took a piece of them when the only other soul meant just for them was beyond their reach. 

 It wasn't so bad, in reality. Most people went their entire lives without ever receiving a soul mark, and it gave them the liberty to pursue and love whoever they pleased. But you could almost always tell who'd been marked—they always had an air of such sorrow about them. 

 The moment Sakura first heard about soul marks as a child she'd wanted one. Up until her father died, she'd thought that having a soul mark meant finding her one true love and living happily ever after—not losing them. But she'd never forget the crash of fine china as a plaintive wail pierced the warm afternoon silence of her childhood home; she'd never forget the face of her mother's agony as the words 'Mebuki, my love, my wife' seared along the delicate skin of her neck. 

 After that, she hoped with all her heart that somewhere out there, wherever they were, her soulmate was safe. 

 So when she felt the telltale searing of her skin during a spar, three years after Sasuke's defection, she immediately panicked and ripped off her vest to watch as words appeared on the pale skin of her chest.

 Naruto, who firmly believed that Sasuke was her soul mate, was beside her in an instant with tears shimmering in his ocean blue eyes. Whether it was for her loss, or Sasuke, she'd never know, but everyone knew that the appearance of a soul mark meant the death of . 

 When the words fully appeared, they were as red as its originator's bloodline, and Sakura burst into tears as Naruto stumbled back in horror. 

 Kakashi averted his eyes in pity, for he knew of only two people in the world whose soul mark manifested as the glaring red of their clan's bloodline—and it wasn't Sasuke. 

 As Sakura shakily zipped up her vest, poorly suppressed sobs tumbling from her lips, Kakashi watched as the words disappeared beneath red cloth. 

 Forgive me, Sasuke, there won't be a next time..

 How cruel was fate, he thought, to give and take so easily without remorse. 

 --

 When Sasuke saw her soul mark, they'd been at war for months and her shirt had been torn just above the chest by an errant wind jutsu. 

 He'd caught the words only by grace of chance when a quick dodge of a kunai made flaps of cloth expose them. he'd gone still with shock before hurriedly killing their enemies and grabbing her arm and unabashedly ripping the rest of her shirt to reveal her soul mark fully.

 "Hey!" Sakura cried, angry at his audacity, "Let go of me!"

 But he'd ignored her, eyes glued to the words he had inadvertently placed there.

 "Aniki..." He breathed sorrowfully, eyes finding hers and she nearly growled at the pity she saw there, "Sakura...I didn't..."

 Jerking her arm out of his grip, she glared at him as she moved away. "It doesn't matter anyway, he's dead." 

 But he followed behind her angrily, uncaring of the bodies he callously stepped over and on, and jerked her to a stop.

 "He was my brother, Sakura." He said angrily, as if it were her fault she bore the mark of his guilt. 

 Whirling around testily, she hissed with saccharine sweetness, "Yes, and you've killed him, and I didn't know him so it doesn't matter."

 Sasuke looked as if she'd struck him by reminding him of what he'd done, and Sakura refused to let herself feel regret. Itachi had been destined to be hers, and like everything else, Sasuke had taken him from her. 

 But it was hard to mourn someone she didn't know, even if her soul would never feel complete for as long as she'd live, and she found it hard to hold a grudge against him. 

 As she walked away, she casted her eyes towards the horizon, remembering the one other time she'd seen Itachi in passing and feeling her very being yearn for him. She'd been horribly confused and flinched when his cold disinterested stare passing over her made him feel like home.

 She hadn't dared spare him another glance, choosing instead to chase after another, so she'd missed the sharpness of his gaze when he, too, felt that comforting warmth. 

 It would trouble him until his death—these thoughts of what could have been.

  KakaSaku “Prompt: it serves to reason that, with how dramatic Sakura was and still is, their child would inherit her penchant for theatrics.”

Kakashi had always known that Sakura was an eccentric, if not dramatic, girl. She wasn't eccentric in the way Naruto wore orange as if he had a personal vendetta against humanity's corneas, or in the way Sasuke spouted promises of vengeance like a particularly annoying broken record. He'd always thought her eccentricity was subtle, less prone to surfacing unless she was around Sasuke-kun or Naruto's greater moments of idiocy. 

 But that was when he didn't really know her, and how dramatic she could be, and Kakashi found it hazardous to his health.

 He'd come to learn that Sakura solved all things she deemed annoying, troublesome, or scary with her fists. Or her screams. 

 She'd been twelve, almost going on thirteen; and he remembers only because she had been not so subtly dropping hints in Sasuke's direction about her upcoming birthday, and wouldn't it be nice if a cool, handsome boy would take her out on a date?

 They'd been on a simple mission outside the village gates, not too far from patrolling ANBU and safe within all reason. So, when Sasuke ignored her hints like he ignored his therapist (who, in hindsight, should have had their license revoked the second that boy learned the word revenge), and Naruto shouted that of course he'd take her out on a date, Kakashi wasn't too concerned when Sakura howled at the boy to mind his business and then angrily stalked off into the surrounding tree line.

 To regroup and strategize her next approach, he presumed. Sakura was smart like that; if she didn't have a career in the field, she'd have one in intelligence. 

 He was concerned, however, when a horrified scream of heart stopping proportions pierced through the raucous bickering between his two male charges and his job of not doing a thing to stop them.

 There wasn't a clear, defining moment from where his ass left the soft grass to where his feet barely touched it as he sprinted to his sole female genin. He had been terrified, he remembers, because of course he'd been given the team with the uncanny ability of attracting trouble and of course one of them would die within two months of knowing him.

 That's usually how things worked with him, he'd say.

 But it wasn't fair, because they weren't in times of war and who'd attack a pink haired little girl??

 His keen ears picked up Naruto and Sasuke's rushed footfalls behind him, and when another one of Sakura's terrified half scream half sobs rent through the air, he left them in the dust.

 With the way she was howling and screaming, he'd expected to find her dismembered and dying, but no. He found her flailing and sobbing and brushing at herself (her arms, her legs, her hair) frantically and wailing, "GET THEM OFF GET THEM OFF GET OFF GET OFF GET OFF!"

 Putting away his kunai, Kakashi was decidedly unamused as he approached her in an attempt to calm her. But, to his surprise, it was like she was blind to him and her surroundings in her desperation to brush off the hundreds of infant spiders crawling and falling off her skin.

 It appeared that she'd walked into a cluster of spider's nest, and like most teenage girls, she was deathly afraid of them. Kakashi's eyes widened in alarm when her hand violently grasped the zipper of her dress to pull it down, his hands slapping over both of his male charges' eyes as they crashed through the underbrush and ignoring their pained yelps.

 There was the type of relief you felt after stepping into an air-conditioned building on a hot day, and then there was the type of relief you felt when you crashed into bed after a long mission, but nothing compares to the relief of seeing twelve-almost-thirteen-year-old Sakura step out of her dress and finding her decently clothed in a tank top and shorts. 

 Sakura-centric “The Mantis Program. Designed after the praying mantis who kills her mate.”

From the moment she became a kunoichi, Sakura always knew what was expected of her. It wasn’t blatantly spoken of, but the underground rumor mill was powerful and everyone knew the responsibilities of clan-less kunoichi. So, she supposed that when Tsunade called her into her office at the age of 18, it had been a long time coming.

What she hadn’t accounted for, however, was the actual truth to the rumor.

“I know it’s not what you want to do,” Tsunade said, her voice taking on that soothing quality she often had when speaking to cancer patients. “But it’s a requirement for…civilian kunoichi.”

Sakura licked her lips, the only part of her frozen body that could move, and thought of how fucked up Konoha’s archaic method of teaching kunoichi still was. Her shishou had wanted to do away with the program, but was overruled by a council that was still governed by old traditionalists who still upheld the ancient ways of the ninja.

“I’ve tried to keep you from it for as long as I could, but you are now a woman of 18 and I can’t anymore. I’m sorry.”

She wanted to rage and scream and cry, but she understood. Tsunade couldn’t keep her from the program any longer without accusations of favoritism, and while she had never attended, Sakura knew that her mentor was loathed to make her go. Not for the first time in her career, she cursed being born to civilians though she loved her parents.

Tsunade sighed, her right hand coming to rub the tension building between her eyes. “I’ll call in your team—you know the procedure.”

“Yes, Tsunade-sama.”

As Sakura waited for the rest of Team 7 to arrive—including Tenzo and Sai—she thought of what it meant to be a clanless kunoichi. She thought of the unfairness of it all, of how scathing words spat by children who knew nothing could still define her.

Because, from the moment she had entered the academy, Sakura was destined to become a Mantis. It was her responsibility, after all.

As described by Tsunade, the Mantis program was designed to produce masters of seduction, be it male or female, and was required of clanless shinobi. Shinobi would be sent away to an obscure academy in an unknown section of the Land of Fire to learn how to seduce their targets, extract information, and then eliminate them.

The Mantis program was two years spent with other recruits, isolated from the rest of the world. Their focus would be on learning the intricacies of desire and sex and were expected to shed their modesty and morals. They would learn to think of their body as a tool for the village and abandon the sanctity of intimacy with another human being.

No one knew exactly what was taught in the Mantis program, but Sakura had heard whispers. When male shinobi were drunk, they’d spew songs about golden pussy and honey tongues, then leer at kunoichi they assumed were Mantises.

It was widely considered invasive and in poor taste to ask kunoichi about their clans, as no one really wanted to know who had gone into the program. After all, they were the village’s whores and the stigma of being unclean would remain forever.

She felt a little sick to know that once she became a Mantis, she would always be a Mantis.

Konoha might be considered the softest village in all the Elemental Nations, but Sakura had learned that it was also the darkest in the ways that mattered.

Loud laughs sounded from behind the doors to the Hokage’s office and Sakura tensed. She was dreading this part of the meeting, knowing that her clan born teammates would not understand and would be outraged on her behalf. Also, she wasn’t quite sure how to feel about five other males learning of what she would have to do.

The doors swung open, Naruto’s exuberant shout the first to mark Team 7’s arrival.

“Baa-chan!” He cried with a joyful grin, arms akimbo as the rest of the squad trailed in behind him.

Then he caught sight of his teammate and swept her into a bear hug that left her breathless and choking. Casting a look over his shoulder, she observed the rest of her team. Sasuke had moved to stand by the window, hands in his pockets and looking as bored as ever. Sai, with his ever present stiff smile, stood beside Yamato whose eyes were focused on the Hokage. Kakashi had his nose buried in his porn but lifted a hand in greeting anyway.

“You called for us, Hokage-sama?” Yamato asked curiously, hand reaching over to snatch at Naruto’s collar before he touched any of Tsunade’s expensive baubles she had on her book shelf.

Tsunade looked at them evenly and something in her gaze must have sobered them, for the atmosphere in the room changed. The blonde sighed and reached into the bottom drawer of her desk, pulling out a bottle of sake Sakura had sworn Shizune had hid.

As she poured herself a glass, she said, “There’s no easy way of saying this, so I’ll cut to the point.”

She surprisingly pushed the glass towards Sakura and said, “Sakura will be entering the Mantis Program, effective immediately.”

There was a weighty silence before Naruto burst out, all sunshine and rainbows as usual, “That’s so cool, Sakura-chan!”

His fingers came to scratch at his cheek, eyes narrowing. “Is that some kind of cool, secret division in ANBU?’

“No, Dickless, she is going to whore school.”

The subsequent silence was deep enough to hear a pin drop, the weight of Sai’s words impacting each shinobi differently. Sakura reached for the offered sake and, with a shaking hand, brought it to her lips to choke it back. It was the only motion in the room.

Those few scant seconds where no one spoke felt like an eternity for her, but she would not dare to peek at anyone’s expressions for fear of what she’d see.

“Tsunade-sama, what does Sai mean?” Sasuke asked, surprising her. She’d never pegged Sasuke as someone to ask questions concerning herself.

Tsunade opened her mouth to speak, but Sakura felt that since she was the topic of conversation, she might as well participate. Her involvement in this was non-negotiable, she had to go. She had no other choice. It wouldn’t do to show fear and uncertainty in front of them. For all her fears and doubts, Sakura didn’t want them to think her weak and incapable.

In some way, she didn’t want them to worry for her—she didn’t want them to think she’d be broken.

So, before her shishou could speak, Sakura clarified, “The Mantis program is designed for honeytrap missions. I’m sure you’ve heard of them, Sasuke-kun.”

Sasuke’s brow furrowed as his eyes settled on her before his eyes pinched angrily. He was a smart man, she was sure he’d figured out what types of things she’d be learning and doing in the program. At the same moment, Kakashi started pacing around the room agitatedly. He stopped by the window and exhaled deeply. He, no doubt, knew exactly what the Mantis program was—even if he’d never been a part of it.

“Sakura-chan,” Naruto said as he stepped closer to her, “I still don’t understand.”

She sighed, thinking that Naruto could be dense at the worst times.

“Sai’s right,” She said, jaw clenching angrily. “I am going to whore school.”

“Sakura!” Tsunade reprimanded, hands coming down angrily on her desk.

Sakura whirled on her, feeling all of the righteous fury that came from being trapped rise up like molten lava as she spat, “That’s exactly what it is, shishou and you know it.”

But Tsunade didn’t rise to the bait, instead sitting back to level her with stormy, yet disappointed, eyes.

“Do you think you’re the only one to have gone through this?” She asked simply, and Sakura suddenly felt ashamed.

Because she wouldn’t be the only recruit at the Mantis academy. She wasn’t the only one who’d have to lose her dignity and pride for Konoha.