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#but for some reason the idea is really sticking: full AU no Unite the World plot points

iooiu · 4 years

Note

Hey, so I've been thinking about this AU and I have a few questions. 1) how does exactly the haddock siblings happen? I mean, did Valka stayed longer? Are they adopted? 2) What's their interaction with Gobber? 3) How does Stoick manage them? 4)When Hiccup goes and ends the war with the dragons what's their reaction? 5) How do the haddock kids interact? Who's the leader and stuff like that 6) How do they interact with the main crew? (Astrid, Fishlegs, Snoutloud, the twins). Have a nice day!!

Hey hey hey! Fire those questions away!

(Tbh this au is super sporadic and half the time I end up changing what I’ve already planned, but hopefully some of these answers will stay the same lo)

Okay so;

1. From my (very limited, very sad, very uneducated) knowledge people would actually have kids a lot earlier in life (during their teenage years actually), and my best guess is that has something to do with the fact that they wouldn’t live nearly as long as we do now, but I know in many cultures and even in the last few generations couples had children very early in life, as it was a common practice (though please don’t take my full word for it, like I said, I’m no expert).

Because of this, Valka would have had Dagur and Heather earlier, and would’ve been taken away around the same time as canon (when Hiccup was a wee little baby).

2. When they were little Dagur would poke Gobber with sticks and then run away because he’s a jerk, but Heather never really interacted with him much.

2.5? I like to match my au’s with canon events as I’m not a very creative person who can just recreate a whole series lmao.

So basically when HIccup was around 4 (maybe like idk) Stoick gave Dagur and Heather to Oswald (who I decided would be Stoick’s relative, like a brother or smth) because of some political tensions (that I’ll leave to interpretation because I know shit about Viking politics) with outside tribes. It’s the main reason why Hiccup doesn’t remember a whole lot about his siblings and why Dagur seems to retain the most knowledge over it (and Heather to a certain extent too).

3. Before all of this happened, Stoick obviously had to raise them like the absolute single-father unit he is, but man, was it tough.

Between running a whole tribe, fighting a war with giant fire-breathing reptiles, losing his wife, and having to maintain peace with other tribes, that man had a lot on his plate. He would often give Dagur the responsibility of looking after the other two (he would have totally given the responsibility to Heather, but Dagur’s the oldest (8-10 years older than Hiccup, as reference)).

But he cared deeply for them, and would try to spend what free time he had with them.

That doesn’t mean Dagur wasn’t a little shit-eating menace though, because he totally was. He would set whole houses on fire and claim that he was training when really he just wanted to let the sheep roam free around the village. He would take Hiccup and Heather exploring in the forests (though it was more of carrying Hiccup around and holding Heather’s hand because they were too little lol).

Stoick always tried reprimanding him, but no one can tame the boy so why even try.

Stoick also taught Heather how to braid her hair, because she had been too young to learn by the time Valka disappeared.

4. As I said before, this au followed canon for the most part, so their reactions are much the same as in the show (though with a few more aggressive head ruffles and hugs because like, duh, their baby bro changed the world).

5. Oh boy, this is a long one.

Dagur is a demon, like literally. The Berserkers and Berkians are known to have had a strong alliance for decades, and because of this the two chieftains often met with each other for celebrations and trades. When Stoick gave the two to Oswald, the Berserker chief often brought them with him, so Hiccup remained familiar with his siblings.

Dagur tried to teach Hiccup how to swim, but almost drowned him. Heather liked roaming the forests and dragged the two with her. They bonded for years like this (until Oswald gave Heather away to a different tribe because of political tension and threat of war, which is partly the reason why Dagur destroyed them later in the series).

When Heather is given away, Hiccup is around 6-7, and doesn’t see her again until the time frame of Riders of Berk (is that what the show is called?? lol I forgot).

Dagur continued to accompany Oswald to Berk, and Hiccup with Stoick to Berseker Island, and because of the distance between them, Dagur didn’t really know how to be gentle with his brother. In his mind, he already lost his sister, and Hiccup was always so small and so he feared the worst for him as well. He tried to ‘toughen him up’ the best way he knew how, but he was kind of jagged in the head and always ended up giving off the wrong impression. Poor Hiccup became traumatized lol, but took it in stride later in the series (around RTTE).

I could go on forever and ever about how they interact afterwards (in Race to the Edge) but I know it’ll be super annoying for me to go on a tangent about it.

6. Basically the same way they interact with them in canon? Dagur never really liked any of them when he visited Berk, and the three of them didn’t even know them when they were all living with Stoick. Remember that they were all around Hiccup’s age, and that Dagur and Heather would both older (Dagur by 8-10 years and Heather by 2-3).

So yeah, their interactions are exactly the same as in canon RTTE.

Though when Dagur first broke the news to Hiccup about all three of them being siblings (poor baby had been young when they had left, and was fed the impression that they were nothing more than kids from neighbouring tribes, but he had his speculations), he wanted to keep it a secret from the gang. But this boy is shit at lying to people’s faces and when everyone found out it was like an exe.stopped-working moment.

After that they got used to the idea of the three of them being a family, and Heather never failed to complain about her brothers’ stupidity to Astrid and Dagur would constantly tell Snotlout (who was they cousin, but Dagur and Heather only found out after they all reconciled) embarrassing stories about how Hiccup used to cry when either Dagur to Heather left their shared room at night.

Again, I would love to rant about their interactions (and the sheer amount of teasing that Hiccup would receive over his little lovey-dovey crush on Astrid because come on, what kind of older sibling wouldn’t embarrass the hell out of you for something like that?), but it’ll be super long and annoying lol.

Thanks for giving me the chance to spill my guts on this au! I know I kind of went a bit overboard, but my love for these three never ceases to escape me haha.

#my grammer is off the charts like wow #uhm but yeah #thanks for asking!!#i hope this thing isn't too long #this ask made my day #haddock siblings #dagur the deranged #heather the unhinged #hiccup horrendous haddock lll #stoick the vast #oswald the agreeable #ig?? lol he's that uncle that disappeared for years and unleashed a rabid dagur on the world woop #kk im done

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vegetacide · 4 years

Text

Deprived

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Veg-notable: And that’s all of it. Just a little scene I had prancing about in my head and I figured I would share...

Series: Part of my on going Coffee series on A03 which can be found HERE

Characters: Scott Tracy, Virgil Tracy, Kayo Kyrano and of course V/K ‘cause let's face it.. I wrote this so who else would it be

Location: Tracy Island

TaG-verse AU

E N J O Y

8-8-8

The Walking Dead was putting it aptly when Scott finally put eyes on his Second.

He found his brother leaning heavily on his arms and morosely staring at a fresh pot of Sumatra’s best percolated in the coffee machine. His fingers drumming out a rhythm on the counter of the frustratingly impatient.

When he heard Scott approaching the hairy eye-ball that came his way was sure fire sign that Virgil’s ursine persona was well and truly in the house and not to be messed with.

Claws out, teeth bared. Scott knew this creature well and after all these years, it didn’t frighten him in the least. His other brothers may take issue with facing this side of Virgil, as rare as it was to be seen but Scott knew his brother well and by his rough appearance he knew Virgil wouldn’t have the energy to keep up the growling for long.

Scott simply grabbed a mug for himself, set it beside his brother’s bucket on the counter and settled down on a stool.

Poking the bear was a guaranteed way to get bit so waiting him out was the best approach.

In the meantime, Scott crossed his arms over his chest, settled back and watched his brother snarly at the speed of the coffee maker.

Virgil looked like shit and that was putting it mildly.

He was in his comfy clothes. A pair of soft cotton, track pants that sat loosely and a bit too low around his waist. Too tired it seemed to do up the ties or hike them up higher. It was paired with a rumbled A-shirt that had seen better days and his feet were bare.

A riotous mess of black, bedraggled hair haloed his head at all different angles and his jaw-line was shadowed by several days worth of growth. Top that all off with the dark bruises of exhaustion hanging under his eyes and he painted the picture of someone desperately in need of sleep for a solid eight to ten.

He wouldn’t say it though. He was not putting himself in the line for fire for that. Scott would sit here and wait until the coffee was done and his brother had inhaled a gallon of it. Or his Grandmother got sight of him. Whichever came first.

“Scott, stop assessing me.” Came the rough, sleep deprived baritone of his sibling. “I can feel your eyes on me and I know what you’re doing.”

Scott chuckled and clasping his hands, rested his elbows on the counter. “I didn’t say anything.”

Dark eyes turned back and glared at him over a well defined shoulder. “You didn’t have to.”

“If that’s the case, you should know that I think that coffee is the last thing you need right now.”

Virgil snorted and turned back the coffee pot. “Well, I didn’t ask.”

“Obviously…” Scott replied, rolling his eyes. Oh ya, his brother was in a mood that was for sure.

Virgil made no other comment and Scott sighed, planning his next move.

Before he could formulate a plan though, Kayo floated down the stairs and ghosted across the kitchen on silent feet. She smiled at Scott and gave a little head bob of greeting before gliding over to Virgil.

“Hey, Big Guy.” She said, placing a hand on Virgil’s forearm and pushing up on her toes to brush his cheek with a kiss. Her gaze shifted to Scott for a moment and Scott blinked at the wink she sent his way. “Staring at the coffee machine isn’t going to make it brew any faster.”

Looks like Gordon had gotten Kayo after all. He wasn’t sure if he was pleased with that or not but in the end if it worked, beggars really couldn’t be choosers.

Watching the couple interact though was something that blew Scott away every time he saw it. For the most part the couple kept their intimacy to themselves. Privacy had always been a big deal with Virgil and he wasn’t one to showcase his inner workings despite his artistic nature.

He created because that’s what he did. Music, art, machinery. Those were how he expressed himself. The calm exterior, a shield and his craft a venting mechanism. So to see the obvious affection between him and Kayo now spoke volumes to how tired his brother actually was.

Feeling like a voyeur, Scott looked out over the patio expanse and took in the world at large as the soft low drown of Virgil’s voice replied to Kayo’s whispered words.

Scott wasn’t one to eavesdrop though even if he wanted to in this instance all he got was the tones and not the words. Whatever was said for some reason had heat rising in his cheeks. Unsure if he should stick around and make a hasty exit he braced to get up. Kayo was more the capable of dealing with this and a good commander knew when to delegate.

Spying the exit he flinched when a full cup of coffee was placed in front of him, waylaying his escape. Kayo arched a knowing brow at him as he looked from the cup to her and back again before turning back to V.

“You need sleep, go back to bed before you give Gordon and Alan a complex. Those two are as jumpy as cats right now. I closed a door and Gordon was looking for the exits and Alan said he had homework to take care of.”

Scott took a sip of his coffee, savoring the bitter warmth on his tongue and chuckled. Hard for Alan to have homework when he’d graduated.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me. The coffee starved Bear and those brows have no effect on me so save yourself the energy and go back upstairs.”

“I gotta help…”

Here Scott jumped in, taking the opportunity now that Kayo had pried the door open. A united front always got things done quicker. “Brains is running diagnostics now. It will take a few hours for him to run through it all and he can more than handle it himself.”

“But…”

“No buts, Virg. You’re turf side and racked until he’s done and that’s final. Dad would have my hide if he found out you were up and about already. And don’t even get me started on Grandma..”

“Sleep. Now.” Kayo commanded, her hand sliding up to cup the back of her lover’s head and tug at his mussed hair in mock frustration. “I have to put in a call to one of our Hong Kong agents. When I get back if I find out you’ve snuck off to pester Brains or you’re ass deep in Two exhaust systems I will lay you out on the floor, hog tie you and take pictures for Gordon’s personal use.”

That had the protest dying instantly on Virgil’s face and his mouth snapped shut. Kayo had the means to back her threat up and she had on more than one occasion followed through with various other members of the family so the danger was very real.

“Yes, Ma’me.” Was the only appropriate response.

Kayo grinned sweetly, “Good Boy.” And patted Virgil’s check before stealing his bucket of coffee and gliding for the room.

Scott snorted into his cup. “She’s scary.”

“You have no idea.” Sighed Virgil looking forlornly at the now quiet percolator.

“Have a nice nap.��

Virgil flipped him off as he headed for the stairs.

8-8-8

The End

#thunderbirds are go #thunderibirds fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #vegetacide #virgil tracy #scott tracy #kayo kyrano #Tanusha Kyrano #virgil/kayo #Virgil X Kayo #coffee #coffee series #that boy be whopped

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heungtanbts · 5 years

Text

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

4K notes · View notes

trashballerina · 4 years

Text

Hetalia Fics I Really Like

this ⭐ will be for fics I really like. I’ll try not to star everything.

I’m starting with my favorite of all time and tbh I think the fandom should see this fic as a OG, like Auf Weiderstein Sweetheart or Gutters, I really do.

Are We Even Humans ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ (Literally all the stars)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/4103344

https://archiveofourown.org/works/5660761/chapters/25048773 (prequel)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/7036330/chapters/16007758 (sequel)

The war is over, but putting together everything that fell apart will be a greater challenge than anyone is prepared to handle. Alliances dissolve, and the lines between friends and enemies are blurrier than ever before.

Opinion: Please read it. It is a series with a sequel and a prequel that can be read on its own but it’s so good. Imma go on a quick rant here. This fic is great from the writing, plot, characters, and the nuances of nationhood abilities. I literally rioted during the first chapter because it was so good. One of my absolutely favorite things in the fic and the series as a whole is Prussia. Kingdom of Prussia, German Democratic Republic, Gilbert Beilschmidt. His character progression and seeing him through the series as a whole is astounding. I was literally left shaken at the end of this series and I’ve read it twice. The OC’s are usually the antagonists, but hot damn, they are memorable OC’s who are great (terrible?) villains. And the family dynamics! The family dynamics are enough of a reason to read it by itself and the romances. Omg I love this fic so much. Main takeaways: astounding characterization, amazing plot, will cry, long read, and a reality check on what it means to be a nation.

Would it be too much if I did a separate post on how much I love this series and an in depth analysis? (I feel like such a nerd omg)

Hard Times Passing

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23516458/chapters/56397817

Alfred is homeless during the Great Depression and in his wanderings he's charged with the task of caring for a small orphaned Taiwan. AU-Human names used, Taiwan is a child.

Opinion: So incredibly heart warming. It’s well written and I love the dialogue so much. Also, the little cameos from other characters are an absolute delight. It’s a it short, but so wholesome.

Flowers Don’t Grow on Battlefields ⭐

https://archiveofourown.org/works/14153106/chapters/32619954

https://archiveofourown.org/works/16898919/chapters/39697068 (sequel)

As war tightens its hold on the nations of the world, new alliances are formed. Nobody will escape the war unscathed. Italy only hopes that this time, he will find a way to save those he holds dearest.

Opinion: I realllly like this fic. Maybe I’m a bit bias because I remember reading it from like to third chapter and watching it get updated till the end, but this is really good. Cute gerita, great characterization, good plot, and some lines just really make me melt. And the fluff omg. There’s a sequel that’s linked under too that I may like more than the first.

Who Knew (One Shot)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23516695#main

“The last time the two of them had any sort of contact was when Gilbert sent the letter to Matthew before the first war started.

That was twenty-six years ago. Twenty-six years Matthew had not seen Gilbert. Twenty-six years of Matthew worrying about if his fiancé was alive or not. Twenty-six years of Matthew thinking about all the horrible things that could be happening to Gilbert. Twenty-six years of Matthew wishing he could just see Gilbert, even if it were just for a second. Twenty-six years of pure hell for Matthew. Twenty-six years of being all alone.”

Matthew Williams, the personification of Canada, never thought that he would fall in love, but he did. He fell in love with Gilbert Beilschmidt, the personification of Prussia, but their romance would have to be cut short with the up coming war that was soon approaching them.

Opinion: My god my heart. Matthew had great characterization. Like amazingly so. 10/10 somber and melodic tones throughout the story. Good tension. And again, my heart.

TELL ME A PIECE OF YOUR HISTORY ⭐

https://archiveofourown.org/works/3741175/chapters/8294941#workskin

An account of the media reactions to the reveal of Nations (anthropomorphic national embodiments) with scholarly commentary.

Heavily inspired by: United States v. Barnes, 617 F. Supp. 2d 143 (D.D.C. 2015) [fallingvoices, radialarch] with mixed genres.

Opinion: It’s really cool. It’s told through media, like email, twitter, texts, online magazines, subtitles of videos (not actual videos tho). I love the outside view point of the world on nations and how some people really like them and how others absolutely despise their very existence. One of the main things that sticks out the me is the in depth analysis other humans or posters do on the nations and people even interview the nations, chapter eight is like my favorite for that reason, or how some humans just gush about the nations on so media like how half the fandom does lol. It’s really good. Super creative, great insight on how to world sees the nations, and honestly a great read.

Red Winter (One shot and crossover!)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/909492

The Winter Soldier's new target: a Russian politician named Ivan Braginsky.

Things don't go as planned.

Opinion: Literally so cool. Like nations are total BS to outsiders, especially assassins. I was loosing it during this fic because from Bucky’s POV nations are something else. The writing is really solid and the author uses italics to highlight an action sound or word and even single-word thoughts. The fight scene is really entertaining but also it flows fantastically.

In Costa Rica (Oneshot)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/18614041

“You have this backwards,” McLaughlin said. “Everything. You have it all backwards.” He was a lithe man, looked to be in his mid-thirties. Schnabel leaned back in his chair. Outside, the afternoon rain started, and the frogs momentarily fell silent. “They are dangerous, aren’t they?” Two men discuss the nations and history.

Opinion: No actual nations appear in this fic. It’s just two men talking about the nations and it’s really interesting to see them humor and take seriously the idea of nations. They both discuss what they already know about the nations and theorize. Also hearing an outside perspective and how the nations effect the word around them is golden. I give this fic a big ol’ chef’s kiss.

Finally, I’ll Just Miss You! (Oneshot)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/15553608

Countries will be abolished tomorrow. For the first time, they breathe and realize this might be their last breath and they’ll never wake up again. They want to wake up, they want to go to sleep, the land will still be there when they’re gone. But they breathe, it won’t be the same- for once, they feel human.

Opinion: Bro, I swear I’m not crying. This one is short but really bittersweet and my heart really hurts. I like the snippets of insight on the characters.

Diamond in the Rough ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12872642/1/

The year is 1952, the last full year of Joseph Stalin's rule over the Soviet Union. After an incident with Latvia, Estonia is determined to find out what Russia did to him. And so unfolds a chain of events that would lead the Baltic States to tears, to forgiveness, to unexpected courage and horrifying discoveries about the mysterious past of Gilbert Beilschmidt. See AN for rating.

Opinion: This just be a legitimate book. I have honestly read this one like three time and every time I read it I am absolutely elated to discover another detail or action I missed. It is a longer read but I think it is absolutely worth it. For one, the characterization is beautiful. Maybe I might be bias because I stan and love the Baltics, but how they are written compared to the many other fics I’ve read on them is phenomenal. While the author does take some creative liberties and deviates from canon a little, like the Baltics actually considering themselves to be brothers, I really enjoy the changes. ALSO, the history and research and on this fic is genuinely impressive. To think fic authors do this shit for fun and pour so much of their passion into a piece of writing. Secondly, while Russia may be an antagonist in this story, I honestly think it is just. His mentality, backstory, and current predicament explain his behavior and make him a justifiable antagonist. I highly recommend this one.

Adieux (Oneshot)

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/6700886/1/

What happens to nations after they cease to exist? Do they simply disappear or do they get a second chance? It wasn't a subject Francis was particularly keen on finding out about...but at the same time, it wasn't something he could just ignore. One-shot

Opinion: I hate this fic because I love it way too much. I might of cried a little bit and I instantly melt of Francis and Matthew.

In Our Solemn Hour (incomplete) ⭐

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/8975529/30/In-Our-Solemn-Hour

The time was World War II, at the dawn of a global conflict like nothing any of the Nations had ever seen before. Nothing could've prepared them for what lay ahead: a war more total and radical than anything they could ever have imagined. This wasn't just business as usual; it was centuries' worth of pent-up emotions all coming into play at once. This was indeed their darkest hour.

Opinion: Characterization is on point. One part of this fic I remember very well during a fight to the death, Finland mutters a little “Oh dear”. The characters retain some of the qualities that make them silly in Hetalia but because this is another take on it it does get darker. I think Germany’s portrayal is my favorite because he does cruel and unnesscary things and questions it because its not his usal nature. The author notes are super insightful and sometimes funny; it really adds to the rest of the story. I might revisit this post to make a more in depth opinion on it because I don’t remember it all to well when I know I really like this one.

So that was my post lol. I’ll probably make more on other fandoms later tbh or I’ll just make a part two. If you end up reading about any of these posts, please feel free to tell me about them! I love talking about fics and reading in general. Thanks for reading!

#hetalia #helltalia #fic reccomendations #fanfiction #hetalia fanfiction #recs #help i really love fanfiction

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outroshooky · 4 years

Text

hiatus notice.

hi friends,

this is the first time i’m struggling to word a hiatus post, because i’m struggling to believe that this is the right thing for me right now. however, at the end of the day, i need to prioritize my overall health above writing and this blog; thus, i need to take a break from being on here.

life right now feels overwhelming. quarantine and pandemic aside, there is a lot going on in my personal life now that i’m home all the time. i’ve been in a depressive state for a few days; getting out of bed is hard. i’m starting to lose touch with my sense of self, much less the motivation to sit down and write. i need to take time to remember what it’s like to want to write instead of feeling that i need to produce something for readers. if you’d like to read more on this + what i foresee for this little blog, please feel free to continue below the cut. to keep the notice itself short, i’ll end it here.

mutuals, feel free to reach out to me on kakaotalk / line / discord / whatever social media you’re comfortable with so we can keep our conversations going. you are the reason i haven’t gone on hiatus sooner; i adore all of you to the ends of the earth and back.

my plan is to be gone for a few weeks, to give myself a breather and not feel the need to compulsively write for the sake of putting something out there. in the meantime, my blog will be running on a queue. when i come back, we’ll take things from there and see how it goes.

thank you for understanding.

callisto

hello to my friends who have kept reading,

as i stated before, life right now feels incredibly overwhelming. i live in new york, which is one of the centers of the pandemic here in the united states. life has been uprooted for all of us; i have lost out on my senior year of high school because of it. our trip to disney, the penultimate experience for my high school and the culmination of four years of hard work, was canceled. bts postponed; ab6ix concert canceled. spring concert, canceled. finals canceled (a miracle), graduation likely postponed, a pre-college program i’ve been looking forward to for two years, canceled. i lost my job, one that i loved with all of my heart, and now a simple trip to the grocery store has become an expedition in itself. i know i’m not the only one. we all have our stories, the things we’ve lost. it’s okay to admit that that hurts too, losing these things that we looked forward to, that we wanted so desperately.

it’s hard to write stories full of joy when you yourself are not so joyous. perhaps that’s where my writer’s block is coming from; no halo was a very cathartic piece for me for that reason. i was supposed to put out a soulmate!yoongi au that is nothing but pure fluff, but i struggle to envision it when even in my nightmares, i’m screaming at people to stay six feet away from me. i wanted to give you guys something positive to read, to place yourselves in during this time of struggle for everyone. i still want to do that, but i’m not in a good place mentally to do so, and my health will always take priority over my writing.

i see each of my notifications, regardless if it is someone liking a post or reblogging a fic or tagging me in a follow forever. i check every one of them because they matter to me; you guys matter to me in a very special way. each notification is a person, someone somewhere around the world who has been touched by the content i put on this blog. that is something to be celebrated. each note is a person who has felt a certain way because of something i said or wrote or commented on. this to be said, i feel very guilty when i can’t deliver on something i promised, that people were looking forward to, and i deeply regret that i have not yet finished a series for all of my two years on this blog. i haven’t been able to deliver on those promises, and it eats away at me; then i get writer’s block and we’re back where we started.

this leads into my next point. verses and vibes will not be finished on time; in all honesty, i’m not sure if i will finish it at all. perhaps i will push it back a few months to allow myself a breather, to work on other content that is more spur-of-the-moment. i always want to give you guys the most authentic version of myself along with the most authentic fics that come from a place in my heart, works i have an emotional stake in. i will always hold myself to that; unfortunately, that means my original promise from months ago may change because i myself have changed. i want to finish v&v; it’s a series i’m proud of and one that has helped me grow as a writer. i as an author want to see it through, but i need to decide what will be best for me as a person.

on the idea of authenticity comes another concept i’ve been grappling with. my relationship with bts has changed; something i have been trying to ignore for months now, hoping it was where i was at in life and i just didn’t have enough time to follow them. i don’t believe that’s the case anymore. love yourself era was exactly what i needed to hear at that point in my life, a journey i followed with them because i had nothing to lose and nowhere else to turn. the ship sailed and i was on board, but when we came back to port, i stepped off to get some refreshments and it seems to have sailed off without me. i feel like i’ve been left behind somehow― like everybody else learned to love themselves but here i am in my little corner, still struggling to do so. something happened between the summer and the start of school; i think it was their hiatus that really deepened that divide. they needed it, god; they work so hard for us. but it split something in me, and i’m not quite sure if i can get that thing back. i’m telling myself that this feeling is short-term, that they are the same guys i’ve seen in concert four times in two years; that they’re just a hop, skip, and jump across the world and they have their days, too. i’m not so sure if what i’m telling myself is the truth.

if i come to a point where i realize, okay, i don’t want to pursue this anymore; this chapter of my life can end, i will stop writing for bts. however, unless something dramatic happens, i will not deactivate this blog. readers, i want you to continue to have access to my content if it is something you enjoy and something that brings you comfort. i will also stay on tumblr, but simply move to a new blog that is more focused on the other groups i follow (svt/ab6ix). i will also take my current ideas/wips and tailor them for seventeen, writing for ot13 full-time. this is a long-term plan; i don’t expect this to happen immediately, but i want to lay this out for you now so you have an idea of what is in my future. i will obviously post updates about this when it happens and give forewarning so you can find me wherever i end up. editor’s note: i am not moving blogs right now. this is just an idea of what may happen in the future.

this has been on my mind for many months, but i haven’t felt ready to sit down and confront it until now. please be assured, friend, that i haven’t been forced to post any fics that i haven’t wanted to. i genuinely enjoy writing for you and sharing my works with you; merely, i want to make sure that what i’m giving you is from my heart in every way possible. i will always live out my truth unapologetically (curse my aries ass).

this letter is a long but necessary one. it feels so good to finally speak about this after pondering it for so long, wondering if it was right to put it all out there. thank you for reading it, for sticking in there till the end. i won’t be gone for long. stay healthy and stay safe, friend.

all my love,

callisto

#hiatus notice #callisto.doc #personal

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in-tua-deep · 5 years

Text

Masterlist of AUs

okay i’m never putting anything under a read more ever again bc i deleted this whole ass thing and now i’m redoing it so forget me worrying about it being long af it’s what it is my friends

me, scrolling back through my blog: where tf are all my aus smh

(this is why i need them all in one place)

so without further ago, here we go (the title brings you to the tag on my blog, the numbers bring you the posts for that au):

short stay au - Five jumps forward into the apocalypse and gets stuck, but not for forty-five years. No, in fact, Five is only stuck for one year before he figures out how to get home. Which means the Hargreeves get a lap full of traumatized teenage boy with no idea who the Commission agents trying to kill them are (one)

dolores is the universe au - Dolores isn’t just a mannequin, she’s actually the concept of the universe. The only reason Five can hear her is because overuse of his powers has given him enough exposure to the rift between world that she can reach him. But how to explain this to the siblings who think he’s just traumatized? (one, two, three)

immortal au - The first time Five died, he didn’t know it. The second time was harder to explain. The third and the fourth... well. In the apocalypse, Five figures out that he can’t die, which would be fine except every time he dies he resets himself to thirteen. Puberty? Again? Everyone is more than a little concerned about Five’s lack of concern over his welfare, but hey he’ll start caring again when he’s got further to fall okay? (one)

imaginary friend au - When Five was little, he had an imaginary friend named Dolores. He had that imaginary friend for far longer than he should have, to the point where Reginald intervened. And so they all remember this when Five pops back up toting around a mannequin and calling her Dolores, the only difference is Five has stopped giving a single fuck what old Reggie had to say and he isn’t giving up his friend again so easily (one)

instant arrival au - When Five jumps forward, he doesn’t jump into the apocalypse. Instead, he jumps straight into his father’s funeral. He sort of treats it as a weird vacation until he finds out Ben is dead and tries to return, and finds out he can’t. Now his siblings have to deal with a thirteen-year-old brother who saves the day by just being himself (one, two, three)

barking mad au - Vanya’s apocalypse was more targeted and only killed the humans. Five jumps into the apocalypse and instead of being alone, he’s adopted by the feral packs and colonies that have cropped up. He learns to bark and purr and growl and hiss to communicate, finding friends and family where humanity is gone. Of course, this makes returning to said humanity more than a little bit tricky. It’s not his fault his siblings are dense and don’t understand body language, ugh. (one, two, three)

pushed au - Instead of forbidding time travel, Reginald encourages it. He pushes Five to try it, and so when Five vanishes it’s Reginald’s fault. Written off as no great loss, the siblings realize how disposable they are. Who of them will be the next Five? Trust broken, they don’t stick around to find out and run away. When Five returns, it’s to a very different family who has learned how to depend on one another and protect each other. Together, they figure out how to stop the apocalypse (one)

memory mishap au - The siblings take Five’s hands and jump back in time, and it works! They’re thirteen again! Except for the fact that Five had managed to forget everything that happened since the day he decided to jump forward in time the first time. It’s the others turn to protect him as they run away. Five tries to get his memories back, but is that really what’s best? (one, two)

ghost five au - Five doesn’t leave. He stays, and when that one fateful day happens where one of them is slated to die, Five decides to bite the bullet and take Ben’s place. Even knowing Klaus’s powers, he wasn’t really expecting to wake up as a ghost. He somehow unites the family through the power of being irritating and getting Klaus involved. (one)

broken five au - Reginald puts his foot down once and for all about time travel, by threatening Vanya’s life if Five puts another toe out of line. Five, fully believing his father capable of getting rid of the ‘useless’ child, shuts down. When his siblings find out what broke Five, they all decide to run away for their own safety as much as Vanya’s. They end up adopted by a woman happily living in the woods in her cabin who wasn’t expecting to adopt seven children but here she is and she certainly isn’t returning them to Reginald so. Seven kids it is. (one, two, three, four, five, six, seven)

run nanny run au - Look the nannies aren’t blind. They know Reginald doesn’t care about the kids and is looking at them like they’re weapons and not people, so it really shouldn’t be as surprising as it is that they decide to just take the kids and run one day. They are going to give these seven toddlers normal childhoods if it kills them, even if they have to dodge Reginald and the law as they do so. And no one forces Vanya to eat oatmeal like damn (one)

travel forward au - Instead of taking them back, Five miscalculates. It shouldn’t be unexpected, seeing as Five has never taken passengers before. But he manages to slingshot them directly into the future - into the apocalypse. The family gets a first hand look at how Five lived for forty years and gain a better understanding of their brother as he frantically works to get them all out again before they starve to death. (one, two)

daemon au - a crossover with the His Dark Materials universe by Philip Pullman, the Umbrella Academy live in a world where their souls walk beside them in the form of animals made of a material called dust. Of course, with these guys it can never be that simple. Ben’s daemon didn’t vanish upon his death and hangs out with Klaus, Luther and Diego’s daemons are always fighting, Allison’s is lazy and disagrees with her constantly, there’s something off about Vanya’s, and Five’s hasn’t settled yet. It’s certainly a bit of a mad house. (one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, art)

plush companion au - Dolores wasn’t the only friend Five made in the apocalypse. A terrified and grieving child, he built himself a city out of statues and mannequins and stuffed animals. He built himself an entire world in his own imagination to keep himself from crumbling to insanity. Of course, his siblings have a few question after their brother turns back up and suddenly there’s toys turning up in the manor? (one)

atla au - a crossover with Avatar: The Last Airbender, aka all the kids are benders. In a universe where the Xth avatar is foretold to bring about the end of the world, Reginald manages to get his hands on seven children born whose mother’s hadn’t been pregnant when the day began. Apparently he’s training them to defeat this eventual evil avatar, but little do they know that said avatar is among them and tricked into believing she’s a nonbender (one, two)

suppression au - Reginald doesn’t just use his power suppression drugs on Vanya, he uses them as punishment on the others. They learn that their powers can be taken away on a whim and as punishment, and they’re forced to adapt. Five teaches Vanya the skills he learns to cope without powers, because without them they’re on the same level of competency. Vanya realizes just because she’s ordinary she isn’t useless. A more confident and competent Vanya results, and it changes the future for the better (one)

pianist five au - Vanya isn’t the only child who picks up an instrument. Five learns how to play the decorative piano in the mansion so that he can accompany Vanya’s practice. It becomes more than a hobby. In the end, when words can’t get through to the White Violin, it’s perhaps only music that can soothe the savage beast. (one)

artist klaus au - Klaus was a good artist as a child before Reginald deemed art as being ‘childish’ and forbid it. He forgets until he does some art therapy in rehab, and reignites his passion. He steals notebooks and art supplies and does drawings and caricatures for a quick buck on the streets. When the apocalypse is stopped, he also introduces art therapy to his siblings. It’s just soft tbh (one, two)

out of time au - Five doesn’t jump to eight days before the apocalypse, he jumps to the day of. He has to figure things out and figure them FAST. As such, he’s much more open to delegation and includes Vanya in this because lord knows he’s aware she’s more sensible than half his siblings. And if Vanya and Leonard argue when she wants to look after her brother that she only just got back well, if the apocalypse was prevented by this rift then it’s probably for the best (one)

how i met your mother au - The Hargreeves jump back in time, but way back to before they were even born. They find their birth mothers, and get to learn exactly who they were, and it’s a little alarming to find out that they’re all people. The kids built them up in their heads as the monsters who gave them up, but they’re just people with hopes and dreams and fears, capable of mistakes and who had to make a choice on the worst day of their lives. (one)

responsible luther au - Five only spends a year in the apocalypse before jumping back and is relieved to find he has four years to stop the apocalypse. Except, Reginald decides that Five isn’t getting out of his hands again and restrains him. The last child left in the house, Luther, has a choice to make. And he makes it. He chooses Five, and absconds with him from the house. Luther tries to help a deeply traumatized Five recover, while also dealing with his reunited family and Reginald teaming up with the Commission to kidnap Five back. To be honest he should have only expected a mess when all the Hargreeves come together (one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve)

in the trenches au - Just because Vanya is ‘powerless’ doesn’t mean useless. After all, Klaus doesn’t exactly have a combat based power. So Vanya was included, she was part of the Umbrella Academy, she went on the missions and killed and got hurt and risked her life alongside everyone else. Which means that she isn’t dismissed, she isn’t excluded. She’s as much a part of this as they all are, and that changes everything (one)

post apocalypse au - Just things I think the Hagreeves should get up to in a world where they have to deal with the fact that the world isn’t going to end and they actually have to inhabit it. They decide to try and live instead of whatever they’ve been doing for twenty-nine years, figuring out what they like and don’t like as they go where they were never really allowed to before (one)

late addition au - on one fateful day, forty-three women gave birth despite not beginning the day pregnant. Forty-three women produced forty-four children, and that one extra wasn’t exactly supposed to be there. Indeed, unhappy with the apocalypse plans, the Universe slipped her own child next to another as an almost sleeper agent of sorts. Five grew up with his mother’s voice in his ear, the knowledge that he wasn’t like the others, and a mission to take out the true cause of the apocalypse: the Commission. (one, two)

double trouble au - They stop the apocalypse, but that’s not the end of it because a few days after it all ends Five shows up. Except Five is already there. This is a younger Five who time traveled, except there’s no apocalypse to meet him now. Baby Five manages to convince his elder counterpart to see how long it takes the rest of the siblings to cotton onto the fact that there are two of them, and it’s downright alarming how long it actually takes (one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight)

pride and prejudice au - The Hargreeves have returned to Netherfield to figure out the estate after their father’s death. Airheaded Klaus falls head over heels for local soldier Dave Katz, much to the chagrin of over-protective and pig-headed brother Diego. Fortunately, Dave has the fearsome and wonderful Eudora Patch at his side as his best friend. And his little sister, Dolores, is best friends with Five Hargreeves? And for reasons unknown, the Handler is back and sniffing around. (one, two, three, four, five, six)

poster child au - Klaus is a little bit more accurate with that fire extinguisher and Five drops through into the courtyard with a bloody nose and the beginning of a frankly impressive black eye. It’s looking like the poster child for child abuse that Five goes to griddy’s, and Agnes isn’t leaving this abused child alone out front, right? So she witnesses everything and ends up taking Five under her wing and rolling with the whole ‘stop the apocalypse’ train. Along the way she adopts six more children adults, falls in love with an assassin, and saves the world (one)

mechanical boy au - Five and Grace have always been close, in their own way. Away from prying eyes, with careful sentences and unsaid words. Allies in survival against a man who doesn’t care if they live or die. An exploration of a Five who takes more of an interest in his mother, and more in subterfuge. (one, two, three)

ben saves the day au - Instead of Ben dying, it was Klaus. Without his two favorite brothers, Ben drifts away from the family. He leaves when he hits 18 and doesn’t look back. He builds himself a life, gets a job, learns to live. And then of course he’s tossed back into drama central when Reggie kicks the bucket. On the bright side, Ben got one of his favorite brothers back. On the other hand, it appears that Ben got the entire family’s brain cells in the divorce. (one, two, three)

robot five au - Five is just like any of the other Hargreeves, except of course for the fact that he shares more in common with their mother than the other squishier members of the family. It’s a difficult existence, trying to be yourself when even just having free will is too much to ask. But a little trip to the apocalypse and back and Five is done with all this human bullshit and would like very much for people to stop trying to kill his family, thank you. If the others can accept Grace as their mother then on god they will accept Five as their brother. (one, two)

the commission boy au - The Boy was the only success in a series of failures regarding experiments with Number Five’s DNA, or at least the samples left behind after his rather explosive exit. Growing up trained to be the perfect assassin, the Boy eventually discovers the Commission’s dirty laundry. Mainly, the existence of Five. Assuming that Five is another successful experiment and his ‘brother’, the Boy betrays the Commission and embarks on a journey to discover who his family are, and more importantly, who he is. (one, two, three, four, five, six)

hogwarts au - When Five is ten, a woman comes to the house and talks about magic. Reginald tosses her out, but Five follows her and tells her with wide innocent eyes that their father bought them and is planning to expose their ‘powers’ to the world. The magical community can’t have that, and all seven children are bundled up and placed at Hogwarts. They still have their powers, which don’t seem to be linked to their magic in any way, but they’re not about to tell any of the adults that. (one, two, three, four, five, six, seven)

changeling au - When 43 children were born around the world, they became a curiosity that got the attention of a powerful member of the fae, The Handler. Changelings are traditional, so she sent off a minion to swap one of the children with her own - except something goes wrong. The switch isn’t made. One woman assumes she had twins, and gives both of them to Reginald Hargreeves. Five grows up with rules. Lies burn like coal on his tongue, he is bound to his word, and he knows the true power of names. The Handler isn’t willing to let sleeping dogs lie. (one, two, three)

timeboy au - When Five is young, he finds a blue box in an alley that feels like home. He finds a friend, the TARDIS finds family. She finds him again, over and over through the years. Five grows up with the TARDIS’s voice humming in his head, blue glowing on his hands. He asks her to teach him to time travel, and she does. But when he jumps - time screams. It’s wrong. It’s time for a team up between Five and Team TARDIS to fix the timeline, prevent the apocalypse, and learn some important life lessons along the way. (one, two, ao3)

supernatural au - In another world, 43 children appeared out of thin air. In this world, Reginald is a collector. Of what, you might ask? Well just look in his library. Reginald Hargreeves is one of the world’s foremost expects on supernatural and mythical creatures. Why, just look at his children. (one)

pokemon au - Blessed by legendaries, the Umbrella Academy aren’t entirely human. They look human enough, but humans can’t learn pokemon moves. Humans don’t have a type. Reginald wriggles through a loophole, and gets custody of seven legendary children, though of course there are only six on a traditional team. Sorry Vanya. (one)

gym leader au - the Hargreeves are certainly a power family since they were trained from infancy to be the best trainers they can be. Of course, being gym leaders means they’re in the middle of all the weird and wacky shit that happens. Don’t mention the celebi incident that resulted in the dragon gym leader looking like a teenager, for the love of god. (one)

unviable au - Time travel doesn’t work. It needs a conduit. Taking all of time into something as fallible as a human heart... Five gets to the apocalypse, and he doesn’t immediately realize that he can’t touch things any more. He can’t interact with the world. He figures he got stuck in a pocket dimension of some sort, and eventually manages to travel back in time - except the only people who can see him are Klaus and Ben. They tell him that he’s dead, a ghost, but that’s not going to stop him from saving his family and, maybe, the world. (one, two, three)

prophet five au - Five’s time powers are a little different than canon. When he dreams, he sees the future. A possible future. He spends most of his childhood tweaking and prodding at the world to make sure his family is safe, terrified of being discovered. And then he starts dreaming of the apocalypse, of a life he hasn’t lived, and he decides to change the world. But he needs a little help. That’s where Vanya comes in. (one)

delayed au - when forty-three children were born, one mother looked Reginald Hargreeves in the eyes and said, no thank you. She would raise her child herself, thanks. Except her son turns five-years-old, and he’s not safe. He teleports, and he gets lost, and - she turns to the academy in desperation. Five knows about the outside world. Knows that he was loved. Reginald is full of shit, and Five tries his best to save the world. (one)

tog/tua crossover - Five dies in the apocalypse and starts dreaming of other people. Andy has been confused about the immortal child she’s dreamed about on and off for eons. Nile joins the team and with the power of google search, they set off to find the mystery child immortal. Five, on the other hand, would just like to stop the apocalypse and maybe take down the commission thank-you-very-much. (one, two, three)

rebel vanya au - Vanya’s meds suppressed her powers, but her emotions were fine. Vanya grew up loud, grew up sneaking out and acting out because the only attention she could wrench from Reginald was negative attention. With anger in her heart, a friendship with her favorite two brothers based on bashing their father, and girlfriend Helen Cho that was maybe an enemies to lovers orchestra au. When Five pops back up, Vanya isn’t going to let anything get in the way or her and her girlfriend’s concert, so obviously they have to stop the apocalypse. Right? (one)

the red book au - Five finds several things in the apocalypse. He finds an eye, he finds Vanya’s book, and he finds Reginald’s notebook. Five finds out about his sister’s powers when he’s just a teenager, and grows up knowing about them. This... changes some things, when he hops back in time to save everyone. (one, two)

five meets susan au - Susan Pevensie is an old woman now, but that’s okay, because Five is old as well where it matters. They’ve both lived through loss and love and heartache, both know what it’s like to be too old to be so young and too young to be so old. They both know what it’s like to be lost in a world so different from the one they knew before. They both know what it’s like to be left alone. But that’s okay, because Five needed someone who understands him and Susan is the closest thing he’s got. (one, two, three)

oneshots - Just little oneshots, usually within the scope of vague canon or post-stopping the apocalypse times where I write about just family bonding and conversation I would like to see happen in canon. Usually about the siblings bonding and occur on a whim. (one)

#masterlist #my aus #au masterlist #if there's any y'all want me to explore more #all u gotta do is ask #i also have a whole lot of au asks sitting in my inbox as well for me to eventually respond to #but i wanted to finish this up first #the umbrella academy #tua #tua aus #master list

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occasionalfics · 5 years

Text

worth my while // p. 2

main masterlist | thor masterlist | ko-fi | p. 1 | p. 3

Summary: After being banished from his home, Thor Odinson has stopped at nothing to prove himself worthy of his throne, title, and power.

After losing the love of your life, you turned to a power you didn’t understand.You know you shouldn’t get involved.

But how could you not?

Pairing: Thor x Reader (Hercules au…kind of…)

A/N: Me: *uses the same gif two chapters in a row*

also me: *sees a new pretty one* OOH YES LET’S CHANGE THINGS UP A BIT

Aaaaand here I go, stealing whole ideas straight outta Hercules. Oops ;) Let me know what y’all think, as usual 💖💖💖

Warnings: Violence, lots of angst, borderline abuse and definite manipulation, eventual smut, way too many feels, major character death (eventually). A little more harassment on Hades’ part this time around.

Words: 3,641

“You do understand how powerful Von Doom is, don’t you?” Hades asks the next day.

Just like you had at Captain America, you roll your eyes. “Listen, it’s not my fault, okay?” You watch as he paces the room, and think about the night before. “The Avengers showed up to bust the place for...God only knows what. Captain America gave me an ultimatum, I couldn’t refuse, so I walked out.”

Hades sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Babe,” he says, using the nickname you absolutely hate, “our hostile takeover isn’t proving to be very...ya know, hostile.” When he looks at you, you can see the flames behind his navy irises.

You’re in trouble.

You sit back against the couch and cross your arms. “We can use this,” you offer. You try not to imagine the lighting-laced eyes of the other Avenger as you go over your exact process from the night before. “You want to take out the Avengers. The Avengers attack Victor Von Doom, who you want to help take out the Avengers. Now he has a personal reason to do it.”

Hades pauses. He faces you, fingers on his chin as he scratches his stubble. And he stares long enough that you know you’re not totally off the hook - Hades isn’t known for his patience, after all - but he’s at least considering what you’ve said.

Then he chuckles once and shakes his head. “Oh, you sweet summer child,” he mutters, giving off gruff and insulting sounds as his brows raise. “You’ve got so much to learn. But you’re not wrong - we can use this.”

Just as Cerberus - one of them, anyway - comes marching into the room, straight to your lap, Hades picks up a remote from the table that serves as the only thing separating your bodies. He turns around and powers up the mounted television, and just like magic, there’s a news segment on discussing an upcoming Avengers celebration.

Celebration? You think. They destroy everything they touch. What are we supposed to be celebrating, exactly?

You’re one of those who had once sided with the U.N. and Tony Stark. You didn’t care for the billionaire - after working for Hades, you more or less hated every billionaire - but you did think that the so-called heroes needed to be held accountable for the destruction they left wherever they went.

This party, though, seems to be a celebration of the fifth anniversary of the Battle in Manhattan, which seems...so ridiculous to you. Why would you - or anyone - want to celebrate that? So what if six people saved the world from imminent danger? They’d still nearly let millions of people die or be injured in their messy attempt to kick alien ass.

Also, wasn’t the man behind that plan that Thunder Guy’s cousin or something?

More personally, however, the drunk driver that had killed Rick was drunk because his wife had perished in that battle. He’d been drunk every night since her funeral. The jury had taken his grief into account when they sentenced him to prison, giving him a light sentence instead of life behind bars.

You’re so busy letting your cold heart grow colder that you miss the point of the segment. Stark is interviewed, but you don’t listen. You almost know what’s going to happen anyway, so why bother giving it your attention now?

Hades waits until the segment ends, then puts the television on mute. He turns to you, puts the remote down, and actually comes around to sit on the table.

You lean even further back against the couch. Hades never gets this close unless he’s got a mission for you. Cerberus watches you both, head lifted from your lap as he whines.

A second Cerberus pads into the room, sitting politely on the floor between you.

“Sending me to that thing isn’t gonna get us Von Doom,” you tell Hades. You’ve gotten quite good at reading him since he’d cashed in his price for Rick’s life. You had to - the only other alternative was to let the formidable Lord of the Dead control your every move. Which he kind of did anyway, but at least you could keep up with him this way.

He shrugs, like that’s part of his plan. “Maybe not. But we can stir up some trouble.” His smirk is undeniably mischievous. But you know that’s the only way he operates.

You stare at him like a frustrated parent might at an indignant child. “And what good will that do us?”

Us you think, like I have any say in the matter. Like he’ll actually listen to me.

“If we can scatter them, cause a real scene at their own event, we might be able to attract more than just Von Doom. Better than Von Doom.” Hades nods at his own assumption, but you don’t like where this is going. Not one bit.

“Like who?” you counter. Von Doom is another billionaire. He has money, technology, and apparently, superhuman abilities of his own.

“Norman Osborn,” he replies without hesitation. “Otto Octavius. Wilson Fisk. The list goes on.”

You don’t even know who the last guy is. Still, you groan. “Osborn is an actual goblin, and Octavius is just a scientist. Plus, they can’t even handle themselves against that Spider-kid. You think they’ll be a match for the Avengers?”

You know you’re right, but either Hades doesn’t care or has deluded himself beyond the point of return.

Or, you dare think, that he can see beyond what you can. He is immortal, after all. He has to be right at least some of the time, you figure.

Maybe he sees this as a calculated risk he’s willing to take for the endgame.

Hades stands and starts to leave the room. He only stops to tell you, “United we stand…”

The event is really lovely, actually. Central Park is full of festivities from one corner to the next. There’s no way to do all of this in a day, you think, but as you watch people actually enjoy their existences again, you know no one cares.

So you stop caring about that, too.

You hear, about midday, that the Avengers will make an appearance in Sheep Meadow at some point later, so you decide to stick around that area for the day.

There are food vendors everywhere. All kinds of different food, too. Smells and sounds rule over the lawn, and for once, New York doesn’t feel like a death sentence. It feels like a place where people live - real people, civilians that have normal, superhero-free lives. It’s not really a place where aliens fall out of portals in the sky and threaten the status quo.

But sometime around 3, the Avengers show up, and suddenly New York is that place. Lightning Guy is living proof of that.

Your eyes find him just as easily as if you actually knew his name. You remember hearing...something about him, a few years back. Before the Manhattan attack.

He’d shown up somewhere West, claiming to be a Space Prince while he paraded around after an astrophysicist and her little team. Something had attacked there, too, but he’d defeated it. He had to, otherwise, he wouldn’t be standing across the lawn from you with his dangerous friends surrounding him.

Why he hadn’t gone home then, you couldn’t say. But he’s still here, on Earth, causing more and more damage to buildings and people and a way of life he only just acquainted himself with.

Tony Stark signs autographs. You only notice because you force yourself to stop looking at Lightning Guy. You watch Captain America, now without his stupid winged helmet, pose for a Charlie’s Angels picture with two women he probably doesn’t know. But they fawn over him once the picture is taken, and you roll your eyes.

Falcon and...the other birdman stand off behind the more well-known members of the team. You decide to go in for them, first.

“Some crowd,” you say as you sidle up next to Falcon.

He smiles down at you - a playful look, clearly intrigued by your approach - and nods. The other birdman doesn’t seem to care much, which works just as well for you.

“One of the bigger ones, believe it or not,” Falcon says to you, shrugging like it’s no big deal.

“And yet, you’re unattended to,” you say, attempting polite banter like you know Hades is expecting out of you. “‘S a shame. You’re one of my favorites.”

To be fair, he kind of is. He wasn’t around for the Battle of Manhattan. He did help take out that government facility in D.C. a while back, but you’d heard it’d been infiltrated by Nazis. So, for that, you forgive him.

Generally, he’s one of the lesser-known, newer members of the team. He seems much more approachable, much more amenable. And when he asks, his smirk growing by the second, “Oh, am I, now?” you can’t help but laugh a little at his enthusiasm.

It’s genuine laughter you’re feeling, for the first time since...everything. You know it because your stomach already hurts from just this little muscle contraction. The feeling is foreign and that is...somehow unfair.

But you manage to nod. “Those other guys are overstated,” you say with a shrug. “I like the ones that feel more like...us, you know?”

And he nods, too. “I do,” he says, and you believe him. You appreciate the gap in between his front teeth - it’s kind of adorable, truthfully - as he holds his hand out to you. “Sam Wilson.”

You place your hand in his, and he lifts it to his lips to place a chaste kiss on your knuckles. He’s quite the charmer.

“(Y/N),” you say back, forgoing the your surname because, really, does an Avenger need to know that? Even if he is one of the only ones you like? “And thank you for your service.” You’d read somewhere that he used to be in some branch of the military, so you let him take the compliment however he wants.

“‘Course,” he says. And then, after a beat, “I hope you’re enjoying such a lovely day.”

You know Hades would say to lay it on thick, here, to distract at least some part of the team. You try not to be too thick as you respond, “It’s much better now.”

But, of course, that’s when another person joins your group. You might be okay if it was just another fan asking Sam for an autograph or a picture or something, but no. You don’t have that kind of luck.

Lightning Guy steps up, clad in a plain shirt beneath an open plaid button-down and a pair of light jeans. Sans-armor, the guy is still huge and still looks like he’d be an absolute boulder in a fight. Formidable - that’s the best word you can come up with.

But there is something...a little more personable about his smile. You don’t let yourself fall for it, but you at least acknowledge it.

“Ah, (Y/N),” Sam says, “you know Thor, of course.”

Right you think. He’s the Norse God. You used to think he just borrowed the name, but then you’d seen an interview on the Today show one morning where he’d confirmed that he and the legend are one and the same. Now you remember.

“We’ve met, haven’t we?” Thor says, giving you a curious glance.

You wonder if you should tell him. You don’t really blame him for not recognizing you immediately - you’d only met the once, only for a few minutes, and under very different circumstances. You are now sans golden dress, sans glowing skin, and sans uncomfortable sandals.

But he is unforgettable. For more than one reason, more than just the fact that he’s an Avenger and a Space Prince.

It’s those eyes. Lightning Eyes, to match his power.

Working with Hades for so long has left the impression that you can tell a lot about people by their eyes. And Thor’s are...a dreamy, warm shade of blue that reminds of you storms.

“We have,” is all you say. You think giving too much away right now might cause problems down the line, and you have a distraction to be the cause of.

He holds his hand out, just like Sam did. You shake it, but he doesn’t kiss your knuckles like Sam did. His kind of charm is different - not showy in the same way, but still a little over the top. Everything about him is over the top, though.

Thor sizes you up as you pull your hand back. You ignore the pang of something that crawls up your fingers, passes your elbow, and stings your shoulder at the lack of contact.

“Oh, you have?” Sam asks, his smirk turning cocky as he raises a brow and turns to Thor.

It takes him a moment, but he must find something remarkably memorable in your face. His eyes widen and he almost takes a step closer before stopping himself. Then his brows drop and his expression turns colder, clouds filling his blue eyes with gray.

“You were the woman with Doom the other night,” he says.

Sam turns back to you, the glee on his face slowly fading. He was there that night - you saw him, briefly, on your way out, but he hadn’t thought to look in your direction then.

“I was.” You cross your arms and lean back a bit. “And I’ve been wondering why you and your friends burst in on my business.” You say it seriously, but not without tipping your head a little flirtatiously. You’re not angry - just curious, and, again, a distraction.

Briefly, you wonder when Hades is gonna put whatever his plan is into action.

“Saving the city, as we do,” Thor answers. He’s still a little put off, but now he’s just as coy as you are. You ignore the fact that you kind of like going toe-to-toe with someone that looks as intimidating as he does. “We were wondering what a lady, such as yourself, was doing with him.”

“I’m sure you were,” you say.

And now neither of you have given anything away. You almost know what the Avengers were called in for - it’s not like Victor Von Doom is known for being a safe man. But you’ve been trying to figure out exactly what was going on at that party that would require Captain America’s presence.

You’ve almost forgotten Sam is still beside you. Sam Wilson, Falcon, an actual hero and celebrity, and you’ve more or less pushed his existence into the back of your mind.

That is, until he clears his throat and steps between you and Thor, muttering, “I’m gonna let y’all have your moment I guess,” before moving on to stand with the rest of the team.

Thor won’t take his eyes off you, and you won’t take yours off him. You can feel your chest and neck heat up, but you don’t do anything to signify it’s happening to Thor. He can’t know. You won’t even admit to yourself that he’s the cause of the flush.

“You could’ve been hurt,” he says, unaffected. Not like someone that would actually care if you had been hurt, but just as a matter of fact.

You shrug. “I wasn’t. Like I said, I knew what I was doing.”

You can see in his eyes that he doesn’t believe you. They never do you think. But that’s why you’ve sworn off men.

Well, that and the whole Rick situation. But now’s not the time to dig that mess out of its grave.

Thor gives you a not-at-all-inconspicuous once-over, but his eyes settle on yours again. That’s new you think.

“You’re not quite like many Midgardian women I’ve met, I must admit.”

You lean on one hip, absolutely hating that kind of line. But because he’s still looking you in the eyes, and because you’re now too enthralled in this tête-à-tête, you let him explain himself.

One more thought for you to ignore: you’re breaking every single rule you’ve given yourself over the last few years in regards to attractive men.

“Most are far more forthcoming.”

At that, you laugh. Not because Thor’s wrong, but because he’s probably right. You can’t speak for everyone, but you know you’ve become a secretive, manipulative person. It’s not like you’ve had much of a choice, post-Rick’s Resurrection.

“Good for them,” you respond.

Something in his face changes - his expression flattens into confusion, but it doesn’t seem to be pointed at you anymore. It’s like he can hear something far off, that he knows something isn’t right.

You know it, too. And, truth be told, you’re glad Hades is finally barging in.

But just like your body craved Thor’s touch after he shook your hand, you need him to look at you again. The second his lightning eyes are focused on the shaking ground, on the direction from which the vibrations are coming from, you want to pull him back to you. Not as a distraction, but for you.

Instead, he lifts an arm and holds his palm outstretched, as if he’s waiting for something. The sky darkens, and the distant vibrations get closer as screams are heard from blocks away.

A blast of air shoots past you, cut off only when Thor’s meaty fist wraps around the handle of a large, heavy-looking hammer. It’s edges are slanted and the markings look Scandinavian if you have to guess.

A flash of lightning, and Thor is no longer in civilian clothes. Scaled armor shines down his arms. His chest is covered in a dark chestplate that match dark pants that do nothing to hide the curves of his calves. Not that you’re looking or anything. A long red cape billows as the wind picks up around the park and the skies fill with heavy, burdened clouds.

You don’t even have time to move. Thor is off, flying through the air toward whatever Monster Hades has conjured. You don’t want to see the fight - not really - but you can’t force yourself to turn away.

Sam shoots you a look as you stand, stoic and observant, but ultimately chooses his team over some weird chick he only met moments ago.

People all around you are running. A huge purple beast peaks through the park, shaking everything in its wake that it does not automatically destroy. It’s claws are as long as your body, it’s teeth as sharp as broken glass. It yells in a terrible, metallic noise that rings in your ears.

The Avengers go after it. Most of them do, anyway. War Machine, to your surprise, stays on the ground and helps corral people away. Black Widow does, too, especially when she gets a look at War Machine falling behind.

You take in the running, the screaming, the looks of utter terror. For a second only, you let yourself feel guilt.

Because in the next second, you back up. You turn around and walk right into a black suit with a silk navy pocket square sticking out of the blazer. Your thoughts automatically shut off as Hades put his arm around your shoulders, despite you having told him time and time again how much you hate him touching you.

He steps lightly but quickly, zooming past the crowd, around screaming people that you have to block out. You need to.

Hades lives for the Dead. He loves the sound of screaming humans. Loves the idea of disaster, because disaster almost always means more bodies to fill up his dark, twisted world.

But you are not a God of the Underworld. You are not a being of the Underworld at all - not in theory or practice. Even if the God of the Underworld owns your soul, even if he’s tethered you to his kingdom, you are still a human, and you cannot live with yourself if you idly watch people die, knowing it’s your fault.

You’re just about to head into another section of the park when Hades stops. He looks over his shoulder as you try to regain your footing - transporting via God isn’t always the easiest thing to put a human body through.

A crash of thunder. A roar louder than the rest - much more easily recognizable as a person, rather than a monster. Raindrops pelt at you, slowly but heavily.

Then, silence.

It lasts a beat before the murmuring. You turn around, too, and realize that Thor is no longer around. Every human being has stopped moving - even the purple Monster has stopped moving, though it looks much more satisfied than anyone else around you.

A woman screams. A child cries. Hades chuckles.

His favorite kind of soul is the immortal kind. You still have trouble grappling with that idea.

Lightning breaks out across the sky. The storm is suddenly furious, the wind coming so fast it could knock you down if you weren’t being held up by Hades.

And then the lightning springs from inside the Monster. Its yelling is cut off, as is its elongated neck from its head.

You step away from Hades to get a better look.

Thor stands on the decapitated corpse, hammer raised, innards hanging off of his limbs and armor. Even from your distance, you can see he’s breathing is labored.

The crowd cheers. You take another step forward, unable to help the smile that comes over you. There’s a warmth in your chest that you can only deny because you’re wearing a jacket over your t-shirt.

But before you can rush over to the Avengers, before you can celebrate with the other humans around you, Hades catches up to you. His hot hand rests on your shoulder, and just as quickly, he brings you back to the Underworld.

#thor x reader #thor odinson x reader #hercules au #thor odinson #thor au #worth my while fic

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gremlinkweenarchive-blog · 5 years

Text

Bad Moon Rising

Originally posted by sensualkisses

Part 7: Concerns and Arguments

Summary: The reader finds and rescues a hurt merman who tells her that his name is Jim. She helps him without a second thought, but his presence might attract the attention of other supernatural creatures she never knew existed. This will eventually be a foursome (Jim Mason x Michael Langdon x Duncan Shepard x Reader) mythology/supernatural au.

A/N: Again, this is a bit shorter, but it’s also full of plot I guess?? Foreshadowing??? IDK man things happen and things are learned.

Warnings: Duncan and Michael’s backstory, me enjoying writing Rory and Li too much, depictions of being messed up on a lot of drugs, Duncan being a dick, and Michael worrying??

Word Count: 3.5 k

Tagging List: @langdonsinferno, @ccodyfern, @michael-langdon-appreciation, @lovelykhaleesiii, @michael-langdon-owns-my-soul, @moonagecordelia, @sojournmichael, @n30n-dreams, @wroteclassicaly and @codyfernss

It's that time again, she's sitting in the bar with Li and Rory, just talking about this and that. Things were going really well in house since she had told them about her concerns. She felt lighter, like she could laugh again, like the world wasn't falling apart on her every other minute. She wasn't even expecting Duncan to offer to help pay her bills, she knew that he had money just from the way her dressed, and his, well, his everything, but she had to decline. She told him that it wasn't his responsibility to take care of her like that. Call it pride, but her father had always taught her that you work hard for yourself. She wasn't opposed to the idea of eventually accepting the help, but right now, it just seemed too much.

"Earth to Y/N," Li spoke, waving a hand in front of her face.

"Oh, sorry, lost in thought there," she smiled.

"Okay, so I know there are like three hot men in your house and that are hanging around, and they're like not human or whatever, but here're the most important questions. Are you banging all of them? And is it separately or together?"

Rory's head nearly hit the bar, "Ah, for fuck's sake, Li! It's none of your business! Leave them alone!" Rory was more saying that out of just not wanting to hear about the details more than the privacy for the four of them, but there was a little concern there for their privacy.

"We're all together as a unit, but that's all you get out of me, okay," she answered and Li cheered, about to say something most definitely off colored, but Rory reached over the counter with lightening speed and shoved his cleaning rag in her mouth before she could get anything out.

"That's surprising though, I'm surprised that Michael and Duncan could ever get together again," Rory responded as he straightened out his shirt and vest.

She looked at him debating if she should try again to get some information about that relationship or if Rory was going to shoot her down again. Luckily, Li asked for her.

"So, like, are you ever gonna tell us more about that shit show or are you just going to be quiet and mysterious about this like always?"

Rory sighed, "It's not my place to speak okay. Just because I know things doesn't mean I need to go running my mouth off."

"To be fair, Y/N is dating the both of them and who am I going to tell? We all know that I only talk to you two willingly and most of my other conversations are just "What are you doing?," "You know you've been banned here, leave," "Why are you in my house?," and "Please, we're begging, just stop." So, really? Who am I going to tell about werewolf and vampire drama?"

Both Rory and her nodded, she had a point.

"I just think that you should talk to them about it," but her brows went up and Rory tensed, he forgot but remembered who he was referencing.

"Okay, sure, I'll just ask Mr. The Past is the Past and You Don't Need to Worry Dear and Mr. I Do Things in My Spare Time but I Give Up Less Information Unless Under Pain of Death, But Even Then are going to tell me about their relationship willingly?" She asked, skeptical.

Rory sighed, "Okay, I see you have a point. I think for a healthy relationship you need to get the specifics from the two of them, even if they are brick walls emotionally for entirely different reasons."

"I can live with that," she spoke.

"Alright, just," Rory sighed as the two of them sat entirely engrossed with what he was about to say, "So, Duncan is a Shepherd, which is a dig deal in this world. They are rich, and powerful, and the biggest pack in North America. They came over with some of the first settlers as a small family of nobodies, but then they grew their empire. Some secret history here, but who knows how the American history would have went down without their help in the Revolution. They've been in D.C. and were actually some of the people lobbying for the capital to be moved down there. Annette is the current Alpha, she's the second one, and Duncan is in line after her, and his mother. She's..." He trailed off.

"A bitch?" Li offered.

"She rules with an iron fist and there are harsh consequences for stepping out of line, even for Duncan," He gave Li a look.

"So a bitch," Li stood by her statement. She knew what she said.

He sighed, "If that's what you want to call it. Then, Michael is from my maker, a very old and very dangerous vampire, she killed and changed without pity or remorse, but the Council never stood up to her because she was older and more power than just about all of them. Well, she was until Michael killed her for her various crimes. It is a serious offense to kill your maker, but everyone was more relieved that she was gone than Michael doing that."

"Oh man, are there just nothing but bitches in the supernatural community?"

Rory didn't even grace Li's question with an answer.

"And well, due to a lot of factors and issues, the Council of Vampires don't get along with a lot of werewolves and definitely not the Shepherds. There have been close to all out wars that were just pissing contests over who had the most power."

"Okay, but their relationship?" She asked, trying not to get impatient.

"This is important to understand the climate between them, okay?" Rory shook his head as the other two settled down, sure they were actually about to get the information they were interested in. "They were supposed to be enemies, but the fall of 1824, and Duncan took one look at Michael and he was, well, he was smitten. He was in love with him. He wooed him. It was a love story of the century. Of course, they had to go behind everyone's backs, but they were happy and in love."

She felt her heart warm at the thought of them being so close and in love, but it quickly occurred to her that that was not the case anymore. She saw way Michael watching Duncan like a hawk, expecting awaiting something, but she wasn't sure what. She saw how flippantly Duncan could treat Michael, the way he flaunted a power over him that she didn't quite understand. A dread filled her stomach.

"They were together until 1917, nearly a hundred years before Annette found out about the affair."

"Am I about to want to throw hands with her?" Li asked, but she felt that dread worsen. That couldn't be good at all.

Rory gave her a look before continuing, "Well, things got very bad very fast, and decisions were made, irreparable decisions and sides were chosen and Duncan didn't choose Michael's side."

Her stomach dropped. She couldn't even begin to imagine how bad that must have been. That's what Michael was waiting for, for Duncan to hurt him again.

"And they've really hated each other since. I don't really know much beyond that. I heard rumors and speculations, but those two have never gone on record and said anything. That's really as far as I know, and-"

She didn't want to hear more about this, not right now. "And if I want to know more, I have to ask them," she gave a tight smile.

Rory nodded. He truly wished in this moment that he had a more pleasant story to tell her, but the truth was the truth. "Well, things must be better between them if they're coexisting," he tried to give her a little encouragement, but he wasn't sure if that was any good at this point.

"You must be right, I'm just con-" She didn't get to finish that thought as the door burst open and a much much much too intoxicated Jim came stumbling in.

"My starfish!" He called as he stumbled his way over to them and leaned against her, putting all his weight on her.

Rory cocked an eyebrow, a deeply concerned eyebrow at her, and Li just replied, "Oh god, you are having a fun time aren't you?"

"Yeop," Jim slurred and she looked up at Rory, not sure what to do or what to say.

"I think it might be best to get him home," Rory suggested, and gave Li a look that said "And if you need to, you will help them."

"I don't want to though," Jim whined and she sighed.

"But," she had to think of something to entice him to get him back home, "If you do, there's a nice warm bath and food in it if you do."

He hummed, that did sound mighty enticing and Jim couldn't help but give in. Who could say no to food and a warm bath? "Okay, I'll go, but you gotta promise me fish sticks. I promise fish sticks, I promise."

"Okay, good," he hummed, burying his face into her shoulder.

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

If she thought wrestling the merman in his human form into the house was bad, she was in a whole other world trying to deal with his true form in the bathtub. He was still wasted, and she had her reservations that he was just drunk. This was just a new level for him. Of course, the other two weren't home yet either

"Hey," she spoke softly as she washed his hair.

"Hey," he giggled back, barely coherent and his head was lolling back.

"What's this about huh?" It was soft and she booped his nose and he smiled, but deep down she was concerned.

He attempted a shrug. "It's fun."

"Who were you with? Was Michael or Duncan there with you before you came to the bar?"

He shook his head. "I dunno who was with me, but it wasn't either of them," he trailed off.

Shit, that wasn't good. At all. She didn't want to come off as too alarmed and set off any bad highs for him, but she did want to make sure he understood that this wasn't good.

"Hey, Jim, that's..." She could scream in frustration. She had seen him getting high and drunk more often, but this was something new. Where was Duncan and Michael? "Jim, it's dangerous to do that? Okay?"

"I was fine," he hummed, trying to find her skin to cuddle into.

"Can you promise me something?" She asked with a softly trembling voice.

"Anything for you, starfish." He didn't even notice.

"Just, please, if you want to get this messed up again, please be with one of the three of us. It can be dangerous and we'll make sure nothing bad happens to you." She kissed the top of his head, and she felt him nod. She'd have to this talk with him when he was sober, get him to understand the importance of this, but right now, she just had to accept what it was.

She had to help him out of the bath, though he could barely get back into human form. Marking bathing down as one of the things that he couldn't do when he was this messed up. Though, she supposed there wasn't any risk of drowning for him, which was a small comfort. He was in bed and comfy.

"Can you stay on your side, please?" She asked as put the room's trashcan by the bed just in case. He nodded as he was drifting into sleep. "Okay, I'll be down stairs, but if you need anything, just give me a holler and I'll be up in a little bit to check on you." He grumbled in response and she went downstairs worry eating away at her.

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

She was sitting at the kitchen island, working on her third mug of tea, but she didn't even taste it. It was just something to distract her. She had already checked on Jim, and he was sleeping soundly. A blessing, she supposed.

What surprised her though, was seeing Michael and Duncan enter the house together.

Michael must of read her face, and he hated the idea of people thinking they were more than mandatorily civil with each other, so he corrected, "We just ran into each other on the way home. No need to walk separately when you're going to the same place."

Duncan shook his head at the insistence that nothing was being rekindled between them on Michael's part. Truth was though, that walk was silent and tense, both of them considering if it was worth to start a fight or not. They knew not to, but that didn't make the desire go away away any less.

She nodded, that was an understandable answer, though she did wonder what it was that they did when they weren't home, but that wasn't the concern on her mind at the moment.

Duncan went to her and kissed the top of her head before he went to get ready for bed, it had been a day for him, but she grabbed his arm and stopped him from going. Michael had already set about doing the dishes, he wasn't one to keep his hands idle.

"Well, I'm glad you two are home, I wanted to talk you." She bit her lip and Duncan was settling down in the chair next to her, watching her with an intense eyes and Michael tensed, both of them were expecting questions about their previous relationship. The actual topic surprised the both of them, and maybe that diversion of expectations is what had Duncan taking the positions that he did.

She sighed, she hated to be the one to bring this up, she was beginning to doubt that this was a problem, but the worry, and something even deeper in her told her this wasn't a simple problem. It may seem small now, but it go grow into an ugly beast. "So, I was sitting in the bar talking to Li and Rory and Jim, fucked up on god knows what, burst into the bar. It was a bitch and a half to get him home, and I'm worried."

"Well, is he okay now?" Duncan asked. Michael was listening, but like usual, he was keeping his thoughts to himself.

She sighed, "He is now. I had to put him to bed and I've been checking in ever so often, bu-"

"Then he's fine," Duncan said, getting up to leave.

A scoff left her mouth, she couldn't really believe that he just said that. "No, he's not." There was an edge to her voice and Duncan turned around to face her, clearly hearing a challenge in her voice. She wasn't backing down from this position though. She had the right to worry about him. "He's been drinking and getting high with more regularly and now this?"

"Now this? So what? He's a grown man, he can make his own decisions. So what's one night of getting fucked up? We all do that every once in awhile," Duncan stated flatly, even with a hint of a condescending tone, though it was to contain his own heating irritation.

"He got so fucked up that he could barely walk without having anyone he knows with him!" She was trying to contain her own growing anger that she wasn't being listened to about something she was very concerned about. "I mean, does he even know what the fuck alcohol can do to you if you have too much? There ar-"

Duncan sighed and turned on his heel, "Then you talk to him tomorrow."

That was it, she felt a red hot anger like never before, it tore through her, it was flowing through her veins and it felt like every nerve in her body was alive with it. The type of rage that brought tears of frustration and shaking hands. It came to a head, and she wasn't even aware of the sound of glass breaking behind her. "You're not listening to me! He didn't even fucking remember everything he took! People could be giving him dangerous shit and he doesn't even know it's dangerous!" Duncan had turned to face her, staring at the outburst with an intense gaze, but concern mostly.

"Your nose," he said as he crossed to her gently cradling her face and wiping under her nose. Blood. She was bleeding. She pushed his hands away and went to grab a paper towel. That's when she saw the broken glass in the sink and Michael wrapping his hand with a towel, that soaking with blood.

"Oh my god, Michael, are you okay?" She was now a little more concerned with his hand.

"I'm fine, dove," he reassured her, "The glass just slipped out of my hands while I was washing it. Meanwhile, you," he turned to Duncan, "She has a point. We should talk to him."

Duncan nodded sheepishly. Now that she had put it like that, and seeing Michael stare him down, he was beginning to feel like an ass. "Alright, we'll do that... Y/N, I'm sorry."

"Uh huh," she said as she pushed past the both of them go upstairs.

Duncan held his tongue and sighed deeply, then he turned to Michael. "Is your hand okay?"

"It will be." Michael's eyes were watching Duncan like a hawk. "You are going to give her a real apology."

There was defeat written all over his face. He realized he messed up and it took just a glance at Michael to see he was treading on thin ice with the vampire. "Yes, once she can cool off a little. Give her her space." There was something bothering him though. Something he couldn't quite place, well, he couldn't be he didn't want to. Deep down, he so desperately wanted to ignore it, but the timing of the glass breaking and her nose bleed was .... too perfect to be coincidence, at least that's what he thought.

"Michael," he was walking to the staircase but stopped to turn to other, and Michael hummed in response, "You did," he hesitated for a moment, "You did break the glass right?"

Michael scoffed, "Of course I did, who else would have?"

That satisfied Duncan for now, enough that he could face the rest of the night, and so he retreated to the bedroom.

Luckily for Michael, being dead meant that he didn't bleed terribly much, so the cut on his hand wasn't a concern. No, that wasn't the thing that was turning his stomach. He lied. He had lied out his teeth to both her and Duncan. He hadn't broken that glass. It had seemed to just burst on its own accord. He knew that was impossible, but he knew that that left him with very limited options as to what it could be.

Duncan and anything Duncan could do wouldn't have caused this, besides him being a dick, but that was a different issue. Michael knew there was no way for him to do it. The dead like him couldn't possess magic like that. That only left one person it could have been, and granted, it was the more logical person given her emotional state, but that led to some very worrying conclusions.

She had shown no signs of possessing magic before this. Well, her blood tasted divine, no human ever had the right to taste so holy, but that was it. She was just tasty which didn't mean anything in the grand scheme of things. Witches present their magic much earlier than this, so, that left two options. She had her powers sealed away for some reason or she wasn't a witch, just something else with magic. Both options were very troubling to say the least.

Dread was filling the pit of his stomach. There was a dangerous suggestion that was creeping into his mind, one he didn't even dare think on too long for fear that he might make that possibility real. If godlings were to exist, it could fit the symptoms, albeit there are only two symptoms that he knows of. He settled on asking Rory tomorrow night, he was the only man he trusted with this information, this suspicion, and he settled on putting it far from his mind until that conversation happened. He didn't even dare let that possibility become too real, though the dread only swirled and grew into a monster that was eating away at all the safety he had built on this rock.

He sighed, and slowly started picking up the broken shards of the glass. One thing at a time, but he thought it might be wise to bury this in the woods tonight to get rid of any traces that may condemn him or his lover.

#michael langdon #cody fern #duncan shepherd #jim mason #michael langdon fanfiction #duncan shepherd fanfic #bad moon rising #my fic

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wordsturnintostories · 5 years

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we're pack, moonchild.

Masterlist

Summary: Kim Seokjin. It’s him who introduces you to the world that is this school. The first year with him passes quickly. [a drabble in which you go to the same school with the Bangtan gang and are tiring to figure out if that’s what they really are. a gang? or a pack?] Word Count: +1.5k Note: Kim Seokjin, a fine man. Took me a while to write this but once I had an idea of what I wanted to see, the drabble really surprised me. I hope you like it. Make sure to read Namjoon's chapter first ✨ college!au, supernatural!au

Gif not mine, credits to the owner.

It’s Kim Seokjin who introduces you to the world that is this school. He’s a steady presence, encouraging and genuine and even if there’s no time to hang around the kind senior after the first year in which he is your guidance student, coincidental meetings in the hallways become your most treasured moments at this place.

The first year with him passes quickly. The first days are full of orientational stuff, full of faces with no names and words without a guarantee of sticking to your brain. Everything that is new demands your attention and Seokjin offers a vantage point, an opportunity to look at the mess from above. After a quick while, you can finally put meaning to the strange stares you receive whenever Seokjin treats you like a younger sister, whenever he pats your head and whenever he graces you with those high pitched, rollercoaster laughs of his. Kim Seokjin is one of those reoccurring, unavoidable topics at this school for some reason.

Half the students’ body spends their day admiring his body, the other half spends it admiring his wallet. If you want to believe rumors, he owns a restaurant downtown and apparently, his mother has won a Miss Korea contest before, not that you can confirm or deny these things when people try to interrogate you. Despite his obvious generosity with you, you’d never thought about asking about his family’s financial situation. How shallow, you think. While that matters to the entire school, it doesn’t to you.

Seokjin has been there for you during orientation week and after and whenever you see him now, you feel better afterward. He never fails to crack a joke, never fails to crack your bad moods. His life philosophy raises you up. Money can’t buy that, you decide and revel in the fact that people don’t get to see there deeper, more sincere parts of Seokjin just because of their pettiness and stupidity. To be honest, you prefer his company even over many of your own friends from your classes (not that there’s a ton), simply because he finds ways to be real with you. Even if you don’t talk about everything on your minds, you strengthen each other. It’s refreshing to see someone ask about your interests with actual affection.

So, considering how your relationship with Seokjin works, your little paradisiacal world crashes when you notice him in passing by the parking lots one day. Half-hidden between cars, his tall form is crumpled on the ground and he’s crying. One mess follows the next when you notice his arm is covered in blood. You run towards him to help, but Kim Namjoon and Park Jimin emerge from behind another car and help him up. Their appearance is more than suspicious, there’s no denying that you would rather they would stay away from your friend. It makes you freeze and stay at a distance, even hide when they scan the parking lots.

One thing that you had admired Seokjin for was his smart mind. He always knew what wanted from him. He would never let himself be dragged into certain cliques or friend groups, no matter his level of popularity. He didn’t care for becoming some sort of object of prestige for them. And now, the Bangtan gang has gotten to him, or better, has taken him by force.

When you deem it safe to run to him, there’s a black dog trailing after Kim Namjoon and Kim Taehyung, who has joined the other two. It’s intimidating, reaching up to Namjoon’s waist, blood on his snout and a growl to make anyone run for the hills. After overcoming your goosebumps, you stay where you are, letting your heart ache and Bangtan take your friend. When Seokjin, a sweating, sobbing Seokjin notices you and shouts for you to stay away, it feels like you’ve lost a part of yourself to the dark side.

And sure enough, on the day after that jarring experience, you choose a seat in class that’s close to the windows so you can keep an eye on the school’s door, there’s Seokjin, paraded by the Bangtan gang as they enter school fashionably late - as they always do. (Not that any teacher cares. Some people still insist that even the principal bows to Kim Namjoon.) Seokjin looks better that morning, fresh and energized - as if the gang had revived something forgotten in him. He’s almost glowing. It makes you frown and wonder what Bangtan did to him. Just this image turns your silent optimism into a sour mood. The entire day there are intrusive thoughts you can’t shake; the entire day you receive a few sympathetic glances from him but when those aren’t backed up by actual attempts to seek conversation, the effect is gone. It’s simply incomprehensible how he could become so untrue to himself to hang out with them. When the gang walks past you, calling him Jin instead of his full name, you snort. There’s a shimmer of hope to find an old thing about your friend hidden from their view, stashed away until your return. When Seokjin answers the call enthusiastically, accepting the new name without blinking, even that flies away.

Maybe there’s some secret that could explain everything, but that thought stings even more. That you might have become one of those people who don’t know a thing about what’s going on with the real Seokjin. You wonder to what extent the Bangtan gang knows him, how much he would dare to open up for them.

When you notice Kim Seokjin bowing to Kim Namjoon for the first time, surprise is an understatement. You feel stunned, actually, to see the elder honor the younger so demonstratively. That’s definitely something to jot down in your notebook of observations, just like the way Seokjin switches drastically from drinking coffee to drinking only teas and water. Still, despite the reversed roles in the age-hierarchy of your community, there’s no doubt about Seokjin being older - he’s one grade above Namjoon (who skipped a grade, which is widely known), and he still reserves himself the right to tell the dimple-cheeked boy what to do and to honor his elders. Age is important to Seokjin, you know that. This display of submission is just one indicator of how the gang dynamic works. You can’t say that you like it, but then again, you might be a little biased.

Then, during recess, when your mood is the lowest, you watch Jimin hug Seokjin from behind, even jumping on his back in an attempt to snatch the elder’s food, and whispering something in his ear to distract him. Against your expectations, Seokjin lets him (you know he doesn’t like touchy-touchy people who get too close), and moreover, he smiles. Then, he opens a new conversation that has everyone involved immediately. Apparently, this new constellation of people has not only you but also the rest of the school shocked. Even the school’s newspaper discusses the news in some not-so-clandestine way.

The following days, you make a firm decision from the moment you move your head off your pillow. I will not spend time obsessing over Seokjin today. I will live my own life, be happy and forget about this rather than being miserable. If he thinks we’re still friends, he should come to me and explain. The plan works - for three hours. Even though you’re determined not to look at Seokjin, everyone else does. Also, the Bangtan gang is present everywhere somehow, always pushing into your line of vision without permission. Additionally, your fingers still itch to keep notes about the other members. So in the end, you can’t help but pick up your notebook and give in to the urge of figuring out Bangtan’s secret.

When you face the wolves, it’s strange. At first, you don’t understand the Seokjin’s role in the pack at all. He’s everywhere, spending time with every wolf in a different way, then just running around, nipping the younger ones playfully despite his rank as the oldest. It’s like he doesn’t fit into the concepts of ranks between wolves that you’ve read up on. You truly can’t predict what he will do next.

But after a while of observing the wolves interact, it clicks. It’s the moment he pushes Jungkook to meet you. The strong black wolf seems nervous to make contact, but the elder is kind and convincing. He watches as Jungkook tentatively offers his head for you to scratch, ears always conveying his mood towards you. Instead of interrupting the two of you, Seokjin patiently walks off, nestling his side into Namjoon, who has jumped off the rock to join the family.

Seokjin is the backbone. He’s the spine of the pack, connecting everyone, enabling everyone to function coherently, as a unit. He’s the older brother for the pack just like he was an older brother for you during your first days at a new school. He’s the essence of home in a pack of wild, vulnerable minds. When you return to Namjoon from meeting everyone, Seokjin is there, offering his side for you to sit down and lean against, like a warm, soft pillow-wall instead of a mattress.

“I missed you,” he whispers in your mind, with all the good memories of your time together flowing towards you in a single, buzzing stream of consciousness, creating this wonderful dream-like state of comfort and reminiscent serendipity, “my little flower.”

Thanks for reading! :)

Masterlist | moodboard masterlist

taglist: @xmagicxshopx, @jiminnies-baby, @inappropriatepirate, @dope-boss

#ksj #kim seokjin #bangtan #wolf!bangtan #drabble #jun15 #bts #werewolf!bangtan #wolf!seokjin #wordsturnintostories

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lululawlawlu-writes · 5 years

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The Hardest Part of Living

notes:This fic is for the LawLu Bang 2018-2019 sponsored by @lawlu-events @mushroom-san created this super cute & sweet art work for part 1.

tags: post-apocalyptic au, mentions of suicidal thoughts, terminal illness, attempts at levity

summary: Law is a descendant of humans who were able to survive nuclear annihilation, but radiation, in addition to other man-made pollutants had been seeping into their underground bunker, slowly poisoning them. Now Law’s the only one left alive. Although he'd made a promise to his departed sister that he would find a cure and live a full life for the both of them, his future seems bleak.

The day he meets Luffy could turn his life around. Luffy has a secret that could be the key to saving him, but neither he nor Luffy knows it yet.

___________________

Part 1: It’s hard to depart from this life when there’s no exit.

Law wrenches open one side the rusty metal medicine cabinet, grainy orange rust particles powdering his fingers. His eyes skim over the contents—old medicine bottles, a safety razor, and a lighter.

His eyes study his face in the rust-mottled mirror on the closed side of the cabinet. He runs a hand over his stubbly, two-toned face, contemplating a shave. Well, he doesn’t have anyone to impress. There isn’t too much chance that he’ll run into anyone worthwhile in the near future either, but what’s the point in being a survivor in a post apocalyptic wasteland if he can’t go about taking as he pleases and looking damn good while doing it. At the very least, making an effort to look decent helps him feel a little less like he’s falling apart from the inside out.

His aching fingers absentmindedly wander to his cheek to scratch at the itching patch of white that’s blossomed there, flaking off the irritating blanched skin, leaving a burning sensation beneath his fingertips. Attempting a shave is likely a bad idea—he’d probably just end up peeling off half of his face in the process. This dying slowly shit is so goddamn annoying.

He pockets the lighter anyway. It could be useful. He takes up one of the long cylindrical medicine bottles—prescription pain medication, opioids long past their expiration date. He should probably keep those too because why the hell not. If they’re still potent, they might help his chronic aches and addictive though they may be, he isn’t planning on living long enough for that to take effect. At twenty-six he’s already well outlived nearly everyone he’s ever known.

Struggling with terminal illness isn't exactly Law's ideal way to live. It’s excruciatingly painful, sure but more than anything, it’s annoying as fuck. What good is being stuck in some cruel joke of a life which keeps him half-alive, while he can practically feel himself rotting away like a goddamn zombie.

Law knows he’s been cursed from the start—born with half a lifespan and not much reason to value it. Thanks to the valiant efforts of his ancestors, humans have survived nuclear holocaust—humans, not necessarily humanity. He tries twice to get the lid off of the pills before he realizes he’s meant to push down as he turns the lid. He’s already scraped his fingers along the ridges of the cap, lost his skin in the process. The pad of his thumb aches; the soft skin on the side of his forefinger gone hot like it’s on fire, protesting the strain of everyday activity. He places the bottle on the cracked marble countertop next to the sink, leaning into it. A grunt of frustration, a little extra leverage, and losing another layer of skin seems to be just what it takes to finally pop the top—nothing like a little extra pain to help him remember just how much he could use some relief before he meets his inevitable death. He wouldn’t put it past his dick-bag ancestors to have set him up to die like this. They'd probably consider his poor life tragic and beautiful. They were the same people who made death so romanticized in their movies. If those ancient movies are any indication of how people actually thought back then, with their tragedy and self-sacrifice worship, it's no wonder the world has turned out to be a hollow, burned-out shell of what it once was. Hell, he's sure revering such shallow ideals is what got his community in the bunker wiped off the face of the Earth.

Law shakes the bottle lightly, assessing its contents—a handful of chalky little pills. He tips two of them out into his hand where they camouflage themselves against the splotch of white on his palm, similar even in texture. Both look so pale and lifeless. He contemplates dumping the rest into his mouth. There’s a temptation just to hurry things along and end it all before he ends up bedridden, crippled with pain, wasting away because he hasn’t got the strength even to feed himself. But he’s promised he wouldn’t.

Law is sure he isn't going to have a beautiful or meaningful Hollywood-esque death that would serve to inspire anyone. He sure as hell isn't going to come up with some ‘touching’ last words. He imagines his last words will be something like "Aw, fuck," although even a line like that might be too contrived. At least he has plenty of time to think of something better. On second thought, maybe he would actually try giving that flowery last-words bullshit a shot after all, just for the sake of irony. Dying a slow, painful death might not be without it's merits after all.

It’s not that Law actually wants to languish in pain, waiting for death to come around. He would much rather get it over and done with. He would've even tried to put a bullet in his own brain by now, but lack of ammunition and a naïve promise that he’ll find a cure are the only things holding him back. Poisoning so bad it’s seeped into the core of his DNA structure doesn’t really seem like something he can cure, but in retrospect, how could he have refused his little sister’s dying wish for him to keep going. At least she’ll never know he can’t make it a reality.

“Hey, you in the bathroom, You want something to eat?” calls a voice from the other side of the wall, muffled by layers of cracked plaster and rotting drywall.

Law nearly jumps out of his skin—practically tosses the painkillers across the room. He thought he was alone in this abandoned house, if that’s what you’d call it because a half-torched, roofless structure with two of its external walls missing doesn’t really seem like one anymore. He’d checked for any signs of a possible resident when he came in. He’s usually extremely cautious about such things. It wouldn’t take much more than a five-year-old with a stick to take down his weak ass, and he knows that out here in this wasteland there’s likely to be much worse. Still, he’d checked every room top-to-bottom when he’d arrived and hadn’t heard anyone else come in, so who the hell- “I’m Luffy, by the way.” Ok, so Luffy, apparently. “Who are you?” Luffy speaks again, closer this time, as if a breath’s width away from the door.

Law has no time at all to think before the door is shoved aside and he finds a small, opened tin of ham thrust into his hand. The scrawny guy who’s given it to him casually kicks down the toilet lid, taking a seat backward over the toilet. He releases an armful of provisions, presumably for himself, onto the tank of the toilet like it’s perfectly normal to use a toilet as a makeshift table and chair.

“Cheers!” he cries, clinking a tin of ham against Law’s own. He shoots Law a wide, toothy grin and tosses his head back, shaking the tin over his mouth until the ham slides out with a sick, sucking sound. Pale pink jelly-like substance drips from the can onto his face. It runs down his cheek mimicking the line of a thin scar etched under his left eye.

Law eyes the tin of meat in his own hand. This could be some sort of trap. This person could be an organ trafficker or something. Well, it’s not like Law has a lot to live for anyway, although being murdered by a stranger isn’t really how he wants to go. For a guy who wants to get it over with, he sure is being picky about death.

The mass of ham he’s been given does look a thousand times more interesting than the dried-out, flavourless rations he’s recently had the pleasure of surviving on. Its pinkish hue and marbling is indicative of actual meat, if ancient movies are to be believed. He wouldn’t know from personal experience, but the smell of it—that can’t be normal. It smells awful, pungent, somewhat sulfuric—like farts. And if humans of the past voluntarily ate things that stank like intestinal expulsions, they were a lot more messed up than Law gave them credit for. “Good shit, yeah?” Luffy says, eyebrows raised, beaming up at him from his spot on the toilet lid. Maybe this guy is more messed up than Law gives him credit for. He doesn’t even seem to care about the look of the tinned meat or its flatulent odors. Law watches him toss back a third can. The scent alone is starting to make Law’s stomach turn. He cautiously leans in to place his can of ham on the back of the toilet.

“You never told me your name,” Luffy notes, reaching for the new addition to his personal buffet. He passes Law a long, vacuum-sealed packet of crackers instead. Now this is food he can eat. “I’m Law Trafalgar,” he says. The plastic along the perforated line twists around Law’s fingers but doesn’t tear open.

“You from the underground? Your name sounds weird like underground people.” Luffy muses. “I’m from a PPU if that’s what you mean.” Law turns the packet over, attempting to rip it open from the other side. “What’s a PPU?” Luffy asks around a mouthful of ham. He takes the packet from Law, breaking off the corner of the crackers as he rips it open. “Population Preservation Unit.” Law specifies, taking back the opened packet offered to him. “That’s underground, isn’t it?” Luffy hums in thought, licks the canned ham lid. “It’s getting dark,” he tells him. “So let me stay at your cool underground base tonight.”

Law hadn’t been offering and he doesn’t want to think of the dangers that letting outsiders in can cause. This time he can’t make an attempt to assuage his fears with the notion that he’s near-death and has nothing to lose. The PPU is almost more of an embodiment of himself than he is at this point. It holds all that he ever was—his culture, his memories, his last connections to his people and their legacy of death and decay. In a way it’s as precious to him as it is painful. He’d rather keep those hallowed metal halls to himself, though he isn’t sure how to refuse Luffy. The guy has just shared a vital resource with him. “Alright, let’s go,” Luffy tells him, jumping up from his spot. It’s not a question. “Show me your home!” Though Luffy’s tone doesn’t sound threatening, Law knows that the matter is not up for debate.

By the time the bunker comes into view, the sun is dipping low on the horizon, spilling crimson hues into the sky as if it’s impaling itself onto the hills in a last-ditch effort to get free of the world. Law feels like he can relate on some level. He wouldn’t mind being free of it all but being impaled is a pretty slow way to go. Slower than a sunset for sure—look who’s being picky about his death again.

The sun may be fading into the distance but a suffocatingly hot humidity still hangs in the air, heavy, blanketing everything. It never really goes away. Law had given up feeling uncomfortable in the heat a long time ago but it still weighs on him. When he’s walking out here alone in the wasteland his brain sometimes likes to fantasize about the inevitability that he could either drown in his sweat or lose all moisture and shrivel up to nothing, become mummified.

He doesn’t get to indulge in such thoughts today. Today he’s with Luffy, and the inane chit-chat he’s offering is enough pull Law’s attention away from his morbid daydreams.

“You got anything to eat at home?” Luffy asks.

“You just ate,” Law points out.

“It’s weird, but I’m so hungry all the time since the thing happened. You think it’s possible to miss someone so bad it makes you hungry all the time?”

Law wants to ask him what the hell he’s talking about, but his head is reeling and his mind feels blurry, out of focus. It’s physically hard for him to walk distances. There’s a dull aching behind Law’s knees that makes them feel like they’re ready to give out at any second. He can’t help stumbling.

“Traffy, hey, you okay?” Luffy’s saying, “Let’s get you back to your secret underground base quick.”

Law feels his wrists being grabbed and pulled over Luffy’s shoulders but doesn’t have the strength to protest being picked up. Luffy lifts him up around the hips to carry him piggyback. Although it’s cheesy and embarrassing, and he’d rather die than admit it, it’s kind of nice to ride piggyback like people did in those ancient movies he watched as a kid. Here he is, just like Vanessa being carried by Wade in the classic 2023 film, Deadpool 4.

It’s really, really nice, actually. Law feels more at ease than he’s felt in years. It’s not just a matter of giving up, saying that he’s close to death anyway. It’s almost startling for him to realize he actually feels safe. There’s something about Luffy—something genuine in his actions, something disarming in his smile, that makes Law want to trust him. Law sighs, closing his eyes, resting his head on Luffy’s shoulder. Right about now is when the leading role, Wade, would tell his love, Vanessa, something sweet.

“You smell nice,” Luffy tells him softly, and Law feels his heartbeat pick up, tightness building in his chest that he wishes he could blame on his illness, but then “-like food.” And the feeling is gone. Law still thinks he appreciates the sentiment though Luffy’s words are nowhere near as romantic as the line in the movie. It’d almost be weird if it was romantic. After all, he’s only just met this guy.

Law swears he only closes his eyes for a second, but when he blinks them open, he’s already in the entryway to the bunker and Luffy’s dropping him from his shoulders.

“How’d you know the code for the door lock?” Law asks. He presses the palms of his hands over his aching eyes. “You didn’t break it did you?”

“What do you mean?” Luffy blinks at him. “It was already open.”

Already open?! That shouldn’t be. Law’s blood turns cold in his veins. His every nerve prickles with the chilling realization that he and Luffy are not alone here.

Sure the bunker is visible from the outside, if you’re really looking for it. But it isn’t easy to get past the security codes or penetrate the layers of protective steel by other means. Besides, as far as Law is aware, most salvagers don’t find it worth the trouble to use their resources for breaking into bunkers. He’s been told the kind of outdated, dysfunctional tech they’d find in a bunker just isn’t that valuable.

Law is almost certain it has to be someone who knows him personally, which just puts him at further unease. He doesn’t have friends.

#lawlu #lawlubb 2018 2019 #lawlu big bang #It's also on ao3 if you want to support me there <3 #lawlu fanfic #my fic

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writingwitchly · 6 years

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Fate knows how to be cruel

JILY CHALLENGE | October 2018 | angst | @wizardingworldwaitforme vs. @lovesickjily

@jilychallenge prompt: “I didn’t expect you to wait forever. I just hoped…” au where lily breaks up with james because he is being attacked for dating a muggleborn, they later meet at an order meeting during the war and he is engaged to someone else

Word count: 9.4k (yeah, i’m proud)

Warnings: A LOT OF SERIOUS SH*T, PLEASE BE READY. death, blood, angst, language, etc.

A/N: I. DON’T. KNOW.

***

Her diminished pupils, flooded in the last half-hour, were now dryly scanning the broken reflection that defied her.

Her intense green eyes, usually praised as very attractive, had become two dark pits, surrounded by red, tense skin. From her mouth, reduced to a pale split line, the rests of her anguish were escaping under the form of convulsive sighing, of air that her lungs did not manage to catch. The red maine she had inherited from her mother was plastered on her wet forehead, rebelling itself on some places by sticking out in messy knots. Her grayish cheeks were the vision of sickness itself, a sickness that comes from deep down in the chest, that roots itself cruelly in the flesh of the heart.

The cracked mirror, result of a very violent waving of her wand, was hanging loosely on the wall, throwing disdainfully at her tired body this vision of herself she had never adopted before.

Some months ago, nobody would have believed it possible for one of Hogwarts’ most promising students, exemplar Gryffindor prefect and thrice alumnus of the year, to find herself in such a situation.

Still, there she was, choking on her pain, raging at herself and the world, back at her desk, and writing her name at the end of the letter. She was signing her death sentence with her favorite quill.

The paper was heavy in her hands. The inked words weighted like lead on her lungs. She whistled a faint sound, and felt the air moving in her back.

Sealing the envelope and tying it to the frail leg was too hard. She had to start over twice, and scratched her wrist in the process, opened a new wound on herself. One more she’d have to cure, but would have no force to.

Her walk to the window, with the owl perched on her shoulder, seemed longer than one’s walk through life. Her fingers mechanically thrust the window open, scaring the bird.

The world was cold, freezing. Her soul too.

The owl’s piercing look searched its owner’s, but she pointedly avoided it, gazing at the clouds. If she allowed herself a moment of doubt, she’d never do it. The burning flame of courage in her stomach was faltering every day more, since this bloody war had started.

Sometimes she wondered, how could she not, why she had been sorted in the house of the braves. She had nothing of a Gryffindor, after all. She was demonstrating to be a coward. She wasn’t even doing this in person.

The bird let out an irked hoot, and turned toward the outside. It waited a few more seconds, implying that this was the only moment for her to step back on her decision. She almost did.

When the pair of sandy wings became a barely visible point on the dark roof of the night, the moon alone heard the shattering of the girl’s soul, the signal that her pure existence, already filled with too many sharp despair, had been attacked one time too much.

As she felt that her life was over, as her knees buckled under the weight of her past and future, the wind and stars united to mourn her innocence, screaming her name

***

What a coward.

The headquarters were full.

There had been another Muggle attack recently.

The Order’s meeting were a drag. Most of all, if Slughorn had to add a motivational speech at the end. His voice, in the best of the cases, was a muffled buzz that invited to fall asleep on the spot. The rest of the times, it just made you want to drink death potion.

The dark corner at the far end of the room seemed to be a very good place for rummaging dusty thoughts from two years ago, oblivious of what happened in the world around.

Maybe this was where Mad Eye stored his negative energy, in case he ran out of it.

What a fucking coward.

But, to be honest, it was not the place’s fault if Lily was feeling downhearted. It had become a habit of hers, to constantly be in the doldrums. She had erased the words happy, fun, joy -- and any synonym -- from her daily life.

All that mattered was to fight.

Nothing else.

Still. What a coward had she been.

It had happened ages away, back when she still could manage to worry about what was going on in her chest, in that place that she could not bring herself to name now.

Not even the flickering light bulb on the decrepit roof distracted her from remembering everything clearly.

The facts, the tears, the pain.

The reason.

She felt the urge to fracture a couple of Death Eater’s bones, but all she could do was to keep ruminating.

After sending him the letter, she had tried to hate him. For who breaks up successfully with the person they love? This type of separation never lasts long, and she didn’t want that.

Fate is strong, but Lily’s character too.

She had slowly managed to erase him from her life, half by shutting herself to the world, half because of why she had shattered their link.

It had been the right decision to take. She needed protect their friends, their security, their future.

She’d thought that, yeah. That it was the best to do, for her and for

...him.

He crossed the entrance with that characteristic nonchalance of his, talking loudly, not giving a blatant damn that Slughorn was still halfway through his speech. Sirius and Peter were behind him, laughing without hiding it, their clothes and hair and faces as Lily remembered them from the last time she had seen them, on King’s Cross platform: messy, but communicating mischievousness and a great will to live.

Exactly what she lacked.

She was not the only one staring at the young men. Two or three attendees had swung round, wandering who was arming hell behind there, and were now nudging their neighbors, appalled looks on their faces.

Whispers of wonder and astonishment rapidly covered the boring speaker’s words.

“What, they’re back!”

“Look at their smiles! The mission was a success, it’s sure!”

“Finally! Dumbledore must have found a way.”

“May Merlin hear your words, Agatha.”

“Almost two years out of the country, poor lads.”

“Looks like Albania didn’t educate Black and Pettigrew better than England had.”

“But it surely did a great job with Potter.”

James’ hair, surprisingly, was not storm-like; his glasses were not dangerously hanging from its point of his nose, but had somehow settled up on its bridge. His shirt was carefully inserted in his pants, which had been ironed, so could impossibly be his. His face was scarred in some places, but it was easy to notice the presence of proper baths and skin care on his regular traits.

This could not be James Potter.

The most shocking part of his appearance, to Lily, were his shoelaces. Leather strings, tied properly.

Reluctantly, she was reminded of that chilly pre-Christmas exams time of her sixth year.

This was already a period of doubt in the wizarding world, and the Gryffindors had decided to strengthen the solidarity bond with Yule gift. It had been Mary’s idea to write the names on a piece of paper, introduce it in a bag, and make everyone secretly draw one out. To Lily’s despair, she had caught that one paper she dreaded, the only one she’d have died to avoid. At that time, Potter still was the biggest pain in the neck ever for Lily. At least, that’s what every student got to hear daily.

The day to leave Hogwarts for the end-of-year holidays arrived, bringing along the deadline for the present giving.

As Remus told Lily later, James had found a tiny pack on his bedroom table, which wore no name, no mark that could tell him who had been his secret Santa. But by gradually removing everyone else from his list -- “Oi Pads! Next time you give me socks, at least watch out for matching sizes!” “Marlene! Who’s the fucking idiot who told you I like ice tea?” --, the boy had reduced his possible suspects to only one person.

He had looked for her morning long, but had resigned himself to open the gift alone on the train Platform, after his fruitless searching.

Still, lily had never been very far, just hiding well. From the corner where she was watching him, ashamed of what she had done, Lily had seen the pair of formless, ragged pieces of thin rope being taken out from the wrapping paper. She had gulped down hard, wishing he would just throw them under the locomotive, consider it a prank. She had wanted to scream at him that “See Potter, that’s how important you are to me,” even if she was not sure she really felt this way.

But something incredible had happened. James had called the other Marauders, had gestured something to them, pointing to his feet, his face flushed with excitement. Sirius had rolled his eyes, but Peter had patted him on the back gently, and had helped him to fix the strings on his shoes. The four of them had laughed, James more drunkenly than heartily, and he had then cried out to the crowd, “Look at this, Evans! Best gift I’ve ever received!”

Lily’s stomach had done a 360 degrees flip, and she had bit her lip, trying to force herself into believing that he was just joking.

“Never gonna see me without ‘em!”

And she had never.

Until now.

Her eyes unconsciously trailed up his figure, until they came to rest on his shining smile. Her look met his, and the smile disappeared.

An unpleasant heaviness tied her throat.

For the first time since she was 18, she realized that her strong will had failed. The last two years’ efforts had been completely useless.

And for the first time since she was 18, she felt a ray of hope warming her face

But Fate knows how to be cruel.

The world seemed to spin in slow motion when a blonde girl, whom Lily had never seen before, stepped in the room. Sirius greeted her, and James’ eyes abandoned Lily’s to settle on the newcomer.

His grin came back. He opened his arms to welcome her.

The redhead felt a pang between her ribs, in that place she hadn’t considered for months.

It had taken her only one second to feel her heart come alive for the first time in two years.

And one more to murder it all over again.

Leaving behind a crowd in growing agitation, Lily sped off down the hallway.

He didn’t follow her.

***

She had seen the message earlier in the afternoon.

Which, to be frank, had been a real luck: she wasn’t opening her post anymore. She barely even ate.

But receiving an envelope with the red Hogwarts’ crest at the age of twenty meant that something serious was going to happen.

So she had read, understood, and followed the instructions.

And now she found herself gazing at the dark walls of the Ministry of Magic, armed, and ready to fight.

Ready to- give everything.

Go big or go to the grave.

The call came from some hundred meters behind her. “Evans!”

Kingsley had always been a good speaker, with that loud voice of his. In the times when they still called each other by their first name, she imagined him to become a radio presenter. Instead, he wore the Auror’s colors now. And had been promoted as a secondary leader of the Order.

Still, maybe, after this fucking war…

“Are you going to daydream for long? You’re the last one.”

Lily shook her head to get out of her drowsiness, and sprinted toward her group leader. He looked at her with a critical frown. “You should gulp something down more often, Evans.”

And they were off toward the other end of the somber corridor.

“How many of them?”

“Our sentry counted twenty to the meeting this morning. Cobra confirmed the hour of the attack.” Cobra, their double agent. They only disposed of one, and hoped they were not infiltrated as well. “We secretly evacuated the employees and officers in the early afternoon.”

“How many of us?” She knew the answer. It was the same every time the whole squad was convocated. She just liked to have all the information confirmed.

“Eighteen.”

A mechanical nod of approval, but then- “Eighteen?”

“Eighteen,” repeated Kinsley’s strong voice. “Eighteen.”

Deep below his still tone, there was some embarrassment.

For fuck’s sake no. Not tonight.

But Fate knows how to be cruel.

She first saw Peter, a grimace of utter worry stamped on his face. He looked ready to die. Not by fighting, but of fright. He did not grin at her when their glances bumped, but lowered his head.

Sirius saw her, but acted as if not. Of the Marauders, he had always been the one who liked her less. He was still angry at her for deserting them, causing another anguish to their group of friends.

From the bottom of her heart resurfaced the desire that Remus had come back from his mission too. She was selfish, but she would have given anything to have him as the third add to the squad.

As she thought this, James’ face came into focus, ten steps away. Right where Kingsley was pointing.

“But-”

He glared at her. “The orders don’t come from me, Evans.”

She reluctantly wished him good luck, and headed towards her fight partner.

Standing next to him gave her goosebumps.

“Evans.”

Cold, indifferent greeting.

“Potter.”

Erased, bitter answer.

Lily felt James shifting his weight from foot to foot. Their breathing was distressed.

“Listen to me everyone!” The leader’s words echoed in the huge, nearly lifeless hall. “The orders for this mission are clear: protect the ministry at all cost. I don’t care how you do it: fight until you are not able to breathe anymore. Do not pay attention to the rest of the team, be the only one standing if it has to be this way. Reinforcements are planned to arrive.” He marked a pause, fixed each member of his group, each soul under his charge, knowing that he may never see them again. “And please, do your best to not fucking die.”

There was no clapping, no murmur of approval. You don’t acclaim what can be the most final goodbye.

“You wrote.”

The words slipped off her tongue in an unauthorized murmur. She mentally punched herself.

“You didn’t write back.”

She had sworn she wouldn’t.

All lights were off. The silence was sluggish. The air was suffocating.

It was not her first operation of defense, but a sense of uneasiness was crawling up Lily’s lungs. She never had to fight in almost complete darkness before. A good pair cooperation was going to be crucial.

Great, she’d probably die tonight.

“I don’t know about you, but I don’t intend to say goodbye to life right today, Evans.” James’ voice was full of assurance. “So if you could please avoid to hit me square in the chest...”

He really thought that she hated him.

Everybody thought so.

That’s how she had made her letter sound.

A blonde silhouette hovered before her eyes for the fraction of a moment.

“Just fucking fight, you prat.”

And the conversation was over.

The first flash of electric green ripped the stillness seconds later, but the real shock shook them when somebody screamed.

At least two dozens of black draughts circled the members of the Order, and materialized in masked, caped shapes. The impact of red and blue lights was immediate, and chaos erupted.

Rolling down to the floor, Lily avoided a stupefy thrown her way, and poured all her rage in a bright orange spell. A strangled sound confirmed that she had hit her target.

“Expelliarmus!” shouted James from her side. He threw himself to the ground too, when his missed aim replicated. Lily saved him by conjuring a shielding charm, but couldn’t avoid the intense shot of purple that hit her in the ribs.

At first, nothing. Then, everything.

A snake of fire formed in her veins, consuming her skin. A searing blade was tearing her insides, her hands were attacked by invisible knives, her throat scratched by razors at each call for misericord. Her flaming hair cruelly danced around her, threatening to choke her already impossible breathing. Her bones were exploding, her mind was becoming something else. A burnt smell travelled in the atmosphere, her vision was masked by red sparks of suffering.

They always tell you horrific things about the cruciatus curse. They never approach the truth.

She could not think, nor react. She was a broken doll in some atrocious kid’s hands.

Her screams filled her attacker’s ears like a gong of victory. He savagely flicked his wand, enjoying the sight of the contorsionating girl.

He paid his barbarity too cheaply.

“Avada kedavra!”

Still harboring an ugly smirk, Adam Rosier became James Potter’s first victim, collapsing on the ground as the meaningless mass he was. The young wizard spat in the Death Eater’s direction, leaving for later his reaction to the shock of killing somebody.

He ducked a lost red flash, and ran to kneel down next to his partner’s motionless body. He prayed under his breath that she hadn’t died right here and now, before his eyes, because of him. His forehead was pale skin under a coat of sweat.

He grabbed her wrist, felt only a faint pulse, muttered a spell, prayed harder.

“Potter!” Kingsley’s voice was barely audible through the wall of imprecations and incantations, even though he was his closest ally. “Potter! What the hell! Get up and fight!”

No time to explain him about Lily, he would not have listened anyway. The orders were clear, and Kingsley was a man shaped by rules.

James sent him to hell, and took the girl in his arms, wrapped in occasional bursts of light.

He made it to the nearest hiding he could find, a wide crack in a wall, with a deep burn in the back and a bleeding eyebrow, but ignored them at his best. He carefully laid the witch on the fissured floor, waved his hands above her head, and breathed a couple of curing charms.

An explosion resounded, the ground quaked. Dust and little stones fell from the roof, hitting her face like solid rain drops.

“Please, Evans, don’t be a bitch and stay alive.”

He risked himself to shake her shoulder.

A groan escaped her throat, and James almost fainted of relief when her eyelids slowly raised.

“What the-” Her feverish eyes opened widely, and she sat up in a urge, releasing the content of her stomach on the concrete ground. Her face was the same color.

Another violent tremor shook the building, and the man had to force his throat shut.

When Lily’s retching came to an unsure end, her back found the floor as a support.

Her breath was heavy.

“Are you ok?”

Now, what a dumb question. Of course she was not.

She didn’t answer.

Lily had never imagined that she would meet James Potter again under these circumstances. It made the whole situation worse.

She had left him broken, two years ago. She had disappeared, leaving scars all over his soul. Yet, there he was, saving her life.

This was one of the things she had struggled the most to hate in him, when time had come to force herself out of their relationship. His unconditional kindness, his generous thoughtfulness. He was ready to believe in anybody’s redemption, providing excuses to the most irrational behaviors.

Through the blurry curtains of her pain, Lily distinguished his creased brow. Of course, he was preoccupied. He couldn’t hold any grudge, had to forgive everyone. Even when they killed him in the inside.

Why the fuck did he always have to be so- himself?

Lying, pale like a blanket, she wore that severe expression that implied she was on the edge of exploding.

A blonde face smiled at her. She blinked, and it was gone.

“Did you just call me a bitch, Potter.”

It was not a question, nor a joke to release the tension. He felt it.

“I just saved your life, Evans,” he defended himself.

“You are disobeying the orders.”

Their eyes met for the first time that night. It felt like a clash.

“So what, I should have left you at that monster’s mercy?”

“Exactly.”

James pushed his glasses up his nose with a raging gesture.

“You know what, Evans? I may actually consider you to be a bitch. And I surely have a hundred reasons to. Do you realize that it’s the first time we have a conversation since our- since our last day at Hogwarts?” There was badly disguised pain in his words. “Do you realize that, maybe, I have some questions?”

From the breach on the wall, some bits of the fight penetrated their safe place.

Lily stumbled up.

“Where do you think you’re going now?” James’ voice was irritated, but also preoccupied. He hadn’t brought her all the way here to see her fall again out there.

“Have you really not heard the bloody orders, Potter,” she answered, leaning on the wall to chase away her dizziness. “Get your scared ass in the tussle and fight.”

“But you can’t possibly think t-!” She was already out of reach of his words, moving toward the core of the collision. “Damn it, Lily!”

She heard him running toward the center of the mass a few seconds later.

“Confringo!” Her blue sparkle hit one of the enemies straight at the heart, and she stupefied another one shortly after avoiding his attack.

Feeling that agony inside her had heightened her expectations of sufferance, and she thought of nothing as she walked more dead than alive through the web of curses.

She was angry at the world, at James Potter, and at herself.

“Avada ke-”

Her words were cut off by the sudden disappearance of her target, leaving her baffled. She looked for another Death Eater to aim at, but could find none alive in sight.

She heard Kingsley’s confused imprecations, joined by Alice’s, and James’ sharp inhalations neax to her.

The temperature had dropped considerably.

“You have lost enough.” The treacherous voice snaked its way to her ears like a repulsive melody invading her mind. “If you give up now, you will be rewarded. Lord Voldemort is not insensible to courage.”

Several looks scanned the room, but the semi darkness prevented anybody from seeing farther than a few meters away.

A glacial laughter resounded in her head.

In prey of a terrible presentiment, Lily focused on counting the living people remaining in the hall, all members of the Order. One, two, five, ten, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen. Fifteen! Maybe she had just counted wrong. Again: one, five, ten, fifteen.

“You have until the count of three to surrender,” the voice explained, freezing her blood. “Or else you will all die.”

A bright light illuminated the air, forcing Lily to protect her eyes with her hand.

Her limbs stiffened.

Three bodies were suspended in the emptiness by a magical rope tied to their chest.

Three faces were decomposed in fear, bathed in this raw light.

Amanda, Drew, and Peter were hanging twenty meters above the ground.

Lily had found her three missing teammates. Panic was boiling between her temples.

Peter emitted a strangled squeal that shook her from her apathy. His eyes, out of their orbits, were fixing a point behind the group.

“Face me, members of Dumbledore’s army! See the traits of the man that will end your miserable existence if you don’t bend to him!”

When she swung round, a cry escaped her mouth.

The body was draped in black, floating in mid air. The face was thin, blueish, bore no nose. The fingers were long, bony, holding a menacing wand. The eyes were a snake’s, of an intense red.

The smile was sharp, victorious.

She was staring at the Dark Lord in person.

“I advise you to surrender,” The voice did not reach Lily through her ears. It came from between her ribs, from the center of her bones. “Now.”

Lily felt James’ body tensing centimeters away from hers, but the menace received no answer.

Despite the fear, the orders were clear.

“Good,” the Dark Lord’s voice echoed, with a cynical trace of amusement sketched in it. “So let the countdown begin. Nagini!”

Lily’s knees trembled.

Whatever Nagini was, it came slowly, imperceptibly, quietly, like death itself.

They didn’t see it, but they could feel its presence to their left, their right, everywhere. The creature’s aura trapped them, froze them. It was as if a spell had been casted on the room, preventing any movement. Any smell, any sound, had disappeared from the world.

The wizards couldn’t even hear their own shaky breath.

Time had stopped.

“One!”

A shout of despair recalled Lily’s attention on the point where the hostages were hanging.

Faster than a bolt, a long, scaled form had coiled down the first rope. Amanda’s face, which had been deformed in horror, was now still, her pupils vitreous. On her neck, a hideous mark was drawn in blood.

The aftermath of the cruciatus hit Lily hard in the stomach, and she felt like throwing up again.

Her arms couldn’t move, she was paralyzed.

“Two!”

She saw Drew’s last desperate look falter on his traits.

Heavy drops of cold sweat slided down her spine. She gathered all her forces, interrupting her breathing in the effort, weak from her injury.

Peter already looked dead to her.

She struggled to stretch her fingers.

“Th-”

“Confringo!” “Avada Kedavra!” “Petrificus totalus!” “Cruciatus!”

The four spells flew at the same time toward the voice.

Responding to their instincts, Lily, James, Sirius, and Alice had managed to break the inertia that was pinning them down, firing their shots with a propulsed rage.

It happened so fast.

Nobody could resist to four curses at once.

A ball of blinding light surrounded the Dark Lord, its powerful energy making everyone fall to their knees. The inhuman cry of destruction ripped the atmosphere, pierced their eardrums, reached their souls and tore them apart. A storm of black dust wrapped, asphyxiated them. There was coughing, an intense warmth, and the smell of rotten meat.

A skull formed in the air, laced by a snake. For a split second, it seemed to Lily that the skull looked at her with an intense rage.

She heard Peter’s screams, then fainted.

***

Lily wondered why everybody preferred life rather than death. At least, when you’re dead, you can’t wake up to a raw reality.

The first signal that she received from her body was a stabbing pain on her side. She stifled a cry with her pillow, which left a disagreeable smell of bleach on her face.

The sheets were white, that’s all she saw. Her eyes were too sensible to last more than a few seconds open.

Last time she had found herself in medical care, it had been because of a potions experiment gone wrong, in her seventh school year.

Right after waking up for good, she had been greeted by half a dozen of her friends, either sitting or standing, who had brought her sweets and kind notes.

Professors had passed by in the day, beaming at her and sharing their wishes of seeing her well soon.

Tucked under the soft sheets, she had thanked them all dearly.

The only thing to beckon now was the lonely grey chair that flanked her uncomfortable mattress.

She hated hospitals.

She tried to move her hands, but the effort caused a wave of protest in her stomach.

Her other, rapid sight of the world were two shadows on the white curtain that isolated her bed.

It took her a while to distinguish any sound.

“... serious state,” affirmed a high-pitched voice.

“How long do you think it will take?”

Dumbledore. This was Dumbledore’s serious tone.

“Probably days,” placidly answered the woman. “She was hit by a cruciatus, according to Shacklebolt. It didn’t last more than a dozen of seconds, but it was enough to make her lose her senses. And then, there was this explosion they all talk about. We can’t understand the magnitude of the force that hit them, nor how it possibly left her in such a drained state. She was two-thirds dead when they brought her here. Do you know anything more?”

The buzzing in her ears made it impossible for Lily to hear the warlock’s murmured answer.

“If you are right, I must act right now. Another healer will lead you to Pettigrew’s room. Black left yesterday, while Longbottom is still unconscious. Potter received a visit earlier in the morning. A young woman, to whom we gave exceptional allowance as she affirmed being his fiancee.”

A hurtful darkness engulfed Lily.

***

Everything was numb.

She was vaguely aware of the door of her room clicking open. A voice slinked in.

“I am not sure if she’s awaken yet, boy. And visits are not allowed, at this stage of the cure. You’ll have to come back in a few days, when she’ll feel better.”

It took some seconds for the words to sink in.

What?

No fucking way she was going to stay in this hell of a place for ‘a few days.’

“Hey!” She called.

Hurried steps came her way, the curtains were dragged open, and a grey beard bent over her face. The man’s pungent breath stung her nostrils.

He pulled back just in time to avoid her first retching wave.

The world was spinning, she couldn’t draw in any oxygen.

“Johnes!” The healer’s voice was as disagreeable as his smell. “Call Jenkins and Perks, she’s having another attack!”

The last thing Lily saw, as her unsteady gaze fell on the doorframe, before sinking back into oblivion, were squared glasses and ruffled hair.

***

This dance between life and death was the most exhausting thing that had ever happened to her.

Exhausting and deceiving: she always woke up.

The fissures under her eyelashes revealed the same depressing white light on the roof. She groaned, but was relieved that no twist of nausea manifested itself. Her tongue seemed glued to her palate, and her throat was as dry as a roasted nut.

Helping herself with her forearms, Lily sat up.

“Bloody hell,” she whispered. It somehow felt comforting to hear her own voice, even if it was cracked. “When was the last time I brushed my teeth.”

“Six days ago, I’d say.”

Her start was so violent that she almost rolled down to the floor.

“That is, assuming that you wash them regularly.”

The grey chair at her right was not empty anymore. James was sitting on it, his legs crossed.

Lily instinctively pulled the sheets up, to cover what the hospital’s blouse barely disguised. “What- How in the world did you get inside here?”

The man pointed a finger toward the door with a smirk, which, in other conditions, would have made her roll her eyes.

She scanned him. He looked much more like the James she had always known, with his hair all untidy and his crumpled shirt half-tuck in his pants.

Nostalgy almost made her smile, but she got the feeling that he wouldn’t have appreciated it.

“What do you want?”

His stare fled hers.

“Before your dear friend comes back to kick my butt out of here, you should see this.”

He handed her a copy of the Daily Prophet

The rugose paper was stained in multiple places, ripped in others, but it would have been difficult not to read the title that took the entire half of the first page, ‘The Dark Lord Defeated.’

Lily’s jaw dropped. “I swear, if this is one of your stupid pranks, I’ll-”

A spasm in the side cut her sentence.

“Calm down, Evans. We don’t want you to die after becoming a hero, do we? Dumbledore would kill me.”

His finger brushed the upper corner of the newspaper, invisibly highlighting some words and numbers. Swallowing with difficulty, Lily read the date of publication. It was from three days ago.

“So?”

“So it’s not a prank. But it’s useless. He’s still alive. Cobra confirmed it.”

Her shoulders dropped. Still-

“How can somebody resist to four attacks at the same time? He can’t possibly be alive!”

James brushed her comment away with a gesture of his head. “Have you seen him the other night, Evans? He already looked like a corpse. He masters some dark magic we don’t know about, not even Dumbledore. I doubt we achieved anything more than to anger him.”

It had been too good to be true. Though it didn’t feel like reality. More like a nightmare.

“We did more than that. We saved Pet-”

Her voice died in her throat.

They had saved Peter.

They had saved only Peter.

On her neck, a hideous mark was drawn in blood.

Amanda had always been nice to Lily, even if the latter didn’t seek people’s company. She had shared with her a part of her lunch for long, after a particularly hard week, when Lily’s hollow cheeks had become too evident.

The last look of despair faltered on his face.

Drew had always been an important moral support to the squad. Not the most brilliant bloke in the world, but his seriousness was a column to which many members had found support, including Lily.

They had been important, in their own way.

And now they were gone.

Lily’s shoulders slumped.

“I- there is something else- I have to tell you.” James’ pause was sad, warned her of the worse. “Dumbledore told me something about- the second hostage’s wife. She- she died yesterday. They did her possible to save her but h-”

He kept talking, but nothing reached her ears.

Lily had met Drew’s wife once. The Order had lost her as a member when she had lost her brother because of a mission. She was very reserved, pale like a chrysanthemum. Drew often compared her to a frail flower, but Lily had understood that she was ill.

They were a loyal couple, loved each other dearly.

In wedding vows, you promise to follow your other half everywhere, no matter what.

The poor woman had kept her promise.

The air burnt Lily’s throat. She didn’t want to breathe anymore.

James was still sitting next to her, and didn’t move as she buried her grief under a sea of tears.

She would have wanted him to hug her, to help her soothe the pain of mourning people she had barely known, but who had died in front of her.

‘Fiancee’ had said the healer to Dumbledore.

“Just leave, please.”

It costed her only a whisper, and she was alone again.

***

Lily filled her lungs with the sun’s air, relieved to inhale the dust of the streets. After ten days of undergoing all types of stupid tests in the hospital, she was finally physically out.

What she needed now was infinite sleep, and a ton of pain killers.

But Fate knows how to be cruel.

***

Things reached her through a haze.

The bed and the light were the same, just the curtains had changed. They were thicker.

It was a nightmare repeating itself.

Her head throbbed. Somebody must have hit her skull with a hammer.

The person standing right next to her, maybe.

“Good morning, Lily.” For a moment, she feared that the man would get too close. Then she noticed that his beard was clearer than the healer’s. “Can I have a second of your time?”

Her instinct advised her to send him to hell, her sore throat won the battle.

Dumbledore observed her like a little girl looks at an injured puppy. Something in his voice was wrong.

“Do you remember anything, Lily?”

Anything of what?

Shaking her head made her nerves go wild.

“You did it again.”

She did what now. End up in a bed that smelt of too much cleaning?

Yeah, she had noticed.

“You defeated Lord Voldemort a second time.”

And she passed out.

***

“Can somebody tell me what the fuck he meant?” The only answer she got was the metallic noises of medical tools. “How in the world did I ended up in this disgusting place again? What’s going on?”

Being nice had been completely erased from her agenda.

The nurses who were taking her blood pressure sighed in frustration. “We have already told you, Ms. Evans. We can’t tell you anything. The Head Healer said-”

“Then call your damned Head Healer.”

The women left without taking their toolkit.

An eternity later, Grey Beard stepped in.

“Good afternoon Ms. E-”

“How did I fucking end up here?”

He seemed to hesitate.

“I have been instructed to not reveal any information, Ms. Evans, for the sake of your health. You will have to wait until you get the green light to leave.”

“As if,” she grunted. “Where is Dumbledore?”

The man hesitated. His inner voices were arguing over what to do, but promptly found an agreement.

He left the room, and didn’t come back for the next two days.

***

“I am not a doll!”

Her fist hit the table.

She was wild. A real storm.

The portraits on the walls were empty, their occupants having fled toward a better climate.

Behind his desk, Hogwarts’ Headmaster didn’t flinch.

“You left me rotting in that horrible hospital for ten more days.” Her tears were a free stream. “You came to give me an explanation when I could only think you were a vision.” A bubble burst in her chest. “And now you tell me that-”

Dumbledore sighed. “And now I tell you that the girl who was your best friend died in that mission you can’t even remember.” Lily pressed her hand to her mouth, bit her fingers with rage. “Ms. Mckinnon was one of our best members, Ms. Evans. She knew that this mission was highly dangerous. She accepted it. Do not blame yourself.”

It hurt.

It hurt because Marlene had been the first person Lily had met after her sister had called her a freak for the hundredth time, on King’s Cross station.

It hurt because Lily hadn’t spoken to Marlene after their last day at Hogwarts, for the same reason why she had broken up with James, for the same reason why she had refused to answer to Mary or Remus’s letter.

It hurt because Marlene had been the only one to accept her decision, to try to understand her, when she had left.

It hurt because, after that, she had seen her for the last time during a mission she didn’t remember, maybe told her something she didn’t recall, or perhaps ignored her like Sirius had done with her.

“Are there- Are there chances to recover my memory?”

At least she could grasp to that, but Dumbledore’s eyes were sorry.

“The shock of the impact, its magnitude, leaves us few hopes, Ms. Evans. We don’t know what would have happened if Longbottom hadn’t come to your rescue.” Lily shuddered. I wouldn’t be here. “But what you managed to do,” he adds in a comforting voice, “Is extraordinary. Ms. Mckinnon will not have died in vain.”

She could ask him again, but he didn’t seem incline to disclose some information. It didn’t belong to him, after all.

“So who could tell me what happened exactly that night?”

She needed to know from somebody who had been there.

She needed to know how it had happened.

“Four people were present beside you and Ms. Mckinnon. Black refuses to have any contact with anybody, Fortescue and Longbottom are still interned. The only one that will accept to help you is-”

She felt the answer before he could mention it.

Fate knows how to be cruel.

“James Potter.”

***

The doorbell rang.

It had cost her a herculean effort. She hoped that no blonde girl would open the door.

An eye appeared in the spy-hole, widened considerably, then vanished.

There was a second of doubt before the wooden panel swung on its hinges.

“Lily?”

Blimey, Euphemia Potter hadn’t changed a bit. Maybe she had a couple more wrinkles, but these are things you don’t notice in women like her.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Potter. Is James here?”

Euphemia defied the girl with a stare. A mother never forgets the face of her son’s murderer.

“Please,” begged Lily. “It’s very important.”

The woman slowly nodded.

In the corridor, she didn’t offer her any tea or biscuits. Not even water. She pointed to the living room, then disappeared upstairs.

Lily crossed her legs, and patiently waited.

She didn’t hear James coming, and practically did not see him standing in the doorframe until he cleared his throat.

Again, that will to hug him, to forget everything in the security of his warm embrace.

“What do you want, Evans?”

She raised her eyes to his face. “What happened?”

He sat in the armchair that faced her, and did something that pushed her down the cliff.

He took her hands.

***

Marlene had infiltrated the Death Eaters’ meeting.

The Order needed information. They had provided her a backup squad, in case things would go wrong. Everything was under control until the Dark Lord had required the attendees to take off their masks.

He knew.

Marlene had looked at him straight in the eyes when he had raised his wand.

“You jumped forward from behind the double-wall.” James tried to hold his voice together, pressing his thumbs gently on her palms. “Marlene looked at you as if you were from another world. For the fraction of a second, her empty expression switched with the one she usually harbored at- at Hogwarts. She badly wanted to smile, but you were both about to die, so she didn’t. The effect of surprise you had caused vanished, and the shot was fired. Hit her square in the chest.” He badly represses a sob. “He dismissed the meeting, as if nothing had happened, while you were still gazing at Marlene’s body. He felt so- superior.”

Lily’s vision was blurry.

“He was aiming at you, smirking, when shock woke you up. You turned to face him, and screamed the curse. He underestimated you so much that he didn’t duck it on time, so he stumbled. Alice and Frank were quick with their spells, but he was quicker. Like last time, his dark image invaded the room, and he dissolved into thin air. You were the closest one, the energy trapped you.”

Her mind didn’t want to assimilate this as the truth, though she knew deep down that it was the correct version of facts.

It felt unreal, but what did not lately?

She was not even capable to accept pain and sadness anymore.

“Lily… We could have gone through this together…” In other times, embarrassment would have made him scratch his neck, but his fingers were warm on hers. His grip was firm. He wanted an answer. “Why did you do it?”

Did he honestly think that she could talk about this right now?

She wanted to cry, but her body was dry.

“You have a fiancee, James. I don’t think it really matters to you anymore.”

“Don’t use that accusative tone. It sounds as if you expected me to wait forever.”

“I didn’t expect you to wait forever. I just hoped…”

“You hoped! Be honest, Lily! I thought you loved me at least a fragment of how much I loved you, that would have been enough. The world as we knew it was breaking apart, we all needed some stable points, but you decided to destroy my strongest one!” He grabbed her shoulders, forcing her to look at him in the eyes. “Do you know how much our relationship meant to me? Did you realize that you’d leave me in pieces? Did you even care? It turned out you hated me!”

Two years of efforts.

Marlene had died not knowing that she loved her, perhaps even thinking the contrary.

“I didn’t!” Her shout made him recoil. “I loved you more than anything in the world, James! I- I wanted to save you! You, Peter, Remus, Sirius, Mary, Marlene, Dorcas, and all the others! You were getting attacked for dating me! They fucking used the cruciatus on you, while we were still at school, bloody hell! You got tortured because of me!”

James was appalled. He raised, dropping her hands.

“Loving somebody means caring about their feelings, Lily. You hurt me more by leaving than these damned moron could have in hours of persecution! They came after me anyway! They still tried to kill me after you left! And guess what, I didn’t feel like surviving! I was dead in the inside! Was it not for the boys, I would be under six feet of dust right now!”

She stood up too, erecting herself so his nose faced her forehead.

Her eyes were losing their sparkle.

“You don’t hear yourself, James! War is not the right moment to attach your life to somebody else’s, most of all if that person is a principal aim! Look at what happened to Drew and his wife. He died, and she didn’t resist! I didn’t want that! I didn’t want you to suffer because of me!”

“It was harder to accept the fact that you were leaving without any apparent reason! Fuck, Lily! Try to be coherent!”

“You had friends then, but who knew if they’d still be living later! You got over it, you didn’t die of despair! You found l-”

She had to sit down, to cover her face with her hands.

All she had wanted was to protect him.

And now, he had a fiancee. Another person through which they could harm him.

He was making all her struggles meaningless.

He was making her jealous.

“You found love again.”

Fate knows how to be cruel.

***

Her apartment had never seemed as dim as when she stepped out of the chimney.

Even after opening the curtains -- she took them off, she had had enough of any kind of them -- the windows barely let a couple of light rays in. They needed some cleaning, but it seemed impossible to her that such a basic task still existed.

There was war going on. Her living room glass panels begged for some soap.

The two things did not get along at all.

Lily sank in her old sofa, sending a cloud of dust and ashes spiraling in the air. She took her wand out of her pocket, and examined it consciously. She was not sure to remember how to use it.

When you want to produce magic, you need to mean something.

She didn’t feel like she meant anything anymore.

Her gaze dropped to the floor, and this is when she noticed the envelope abandoned on the carpet.

***

Lily hesitated.

It was pure suicide.

“How many of us?”

Her favorite question to alleviate the pressure.

Though now, she really needed to know.

“Four.” It was a glacial answer. A frightened answer. “More would be too much, and less… pure craziness.”

This was already crazy. Marlene had tried. She had failed.

“Who else apart from us?”

“Frank,” Of course. “And James.”

Considering her luck in the last months, it didn’t even surprise her.

“I’m in.”

Their imperceptible nod was a silent promise .

Lily was about to leave her teammate’s flat when something clicked in her head.

“Does somebody officially know about this?”

Alice’s eyes scanned the redhead’s face, calculating the pros and cons of telling the truth.

“No.”

Nobody would come to their rescue. It was a secret against a safety.

They were disobeying the orders.

Their last drop of hope splashed on the floor.

***

Lily rubbed her hands together, then blew some hot air between her joined palms.

She was the first to arrive, for once. Hell, if she had to die, she had to do something extraordinary before.

There was a loud crack behind her, followed by another one. Without speaking a word in the silent night, Alice and Frank acknowledged her presence, then took different paths to their positions.

The woman waited for the last apparating sound to turn around.

The man wore a long coat and dark pants. His hair was combed, but he ruffled it. He probably wanted to die as himself.

“Good evening, Lily.”

“‘evening, Potter.”

She seemed unable to articulate anything more. But they didn’t have the whole night at disposition.

“You know, I meant it,” she said at last. He slightly raised a brow, observing her tense face from above his glasses. “When I said I loved you.” He looked away. She could see his perfect jawline contract as he clenched his teeth. “And as we’ll probably never see each other again…”

She stood on her toe tips, and lightly brushed his lips with hers.

Saying that it didn’t provoke any emotion in their chest would be a blatant lie.

But it didn’t feel the same anymore.

He had loved her, but she had hurt him. He had slowly mended his wounds, didn’t want to open them again.

Lily understood it, pain and remorse corroding her soul.

She left to take her position.

***

This time, it was over. They had finally done it.

He was gone. She believed it.

She wanted to believe it.

She hadn’t even ended up in that fucking hospital.

Maybe life was going to be good again.

She asked nothing more of it than to be acceptable.

So she had said yes to a couple of firewhiskey glasses. Which had turned into bottles.

The Daily Prophet’s title was its biggest in history: ‘The Dark Lord Defeated For Good: Four Heros To Thank.’

The journalist and editor must have been drunk.

In the pub, wizards and witches greeted her, thanked her, cried in front of her.

They were all drunk as well.

The music, the shouts, the people. It was all too much. She had retired in one of the bedrooms. To be alone with her thoughts drowned in alcohol.

It felt wrong to celebrate.

“Evans?” The slur was full of booze.

James was one of the other ‘heros,’ and understood as much as her how heavy this title was. They other two did too, but at least they could make out to forget.

He slowly came to sit next to her, on the mattress.

Chills ran down her spine.

“Nice party, huh?”

She didn’t answer. He was talking to her as if nothing had happened before the attack. Maybe he didn’t remember.

“Know what, Evans?” He took a sip from the bottle he had in hand. A long sip. “This whole story is bullshit. If four curses didn’t killed him the first time, I doubt that he got affected now. The man’s not over. He’s got like a thousand souls, I swear.”

This stupid theory, the stress, her hopelessness made her laugh nervously.

Granted, she had drunk one shot too much.

James had indeed forgotten all about her confession. He had blissfully forgotten everything about his life for this night. He deserved it.

The only thing he was conscious of was that, whatever the newspapers said, he had a bad presentment. And also that his leg brushed hers.

Meanwhile, Lily was getting hysterical. Her cackling irritated him, and he, pushed by the cruelty of oblivion, found no other way to shut her up than to press his lips to hers.

It was not a kiss like those they had shared in their youth. This one was furious, full of reproaches, aggressive. It was the result of tension, of an intense passion repressed for two years, moved by firewhiskey.

It was not sincere, it was desperate, crazy, drunk.

They were breathless, broken, intoxicated. They were lying on a bed, forgotten by everyone, in a room too far from reach.

The moon was full outside, treacherous, insatiable. The wolves hollowed in the woods, the empty souls trembled, the proud ones lost themselves.

Fate knows how to be cruel.

Lily and James were proud souls.

What should not have happened, happened.

***

“Don’t you fucking dare to kid me on this, Sirius.”

“I swear to you on Merlin’s left b-”

“How the bloody hell… What did he tell Katie?”

“The truth. The kid is his. Due in July.”

“Fuck.”

“I know. She slapped him round the face, didn’t want to see him for a week.”

“Did he-”

“They’re going to marry in June.”

“Lily and him?”

“Katie and him, Moony.”

“What?”

“Katie’s his fiancee. What happened with Lily was- an accident.”

“Are you fucking kidding me! I know he said he would never forgive her, but for Gryffindor’s hell of a hat… ”

“The girls are holding no excessive mortal grudge. Lily will settle in a calm neighborhood, she’ll have an old witch to help her with the baby.”

“At least that. The newspapers?”

“Those stupid blokes that call themselves journalists don’t say anything on the topic, too busy explaining why the Dark Lord is back after all. ”

“Hoping it’ll last, last thing we want is a scandal. But I guess the Ministry is covering them up. They still need them as a symbol.”

“Yeah. Defeated the Dark Lord thrice. But that bastard keeps coming back.”

“You know, it’s the first time I hear about Lily in two years.”

“I’m sorry, Moony.”

“Bloody fucking hell… Life’s a bitch.”

***

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies...."

***

She let him in.

James came once a month, when Katie allowed him to. His wife was sensible to Harry being the result of adults’ mistakes, just a kid.

A kid bound to die.

Lily’s hands trembled every time she opened the door. She feared to see her nightmare, the blueish face, red eyes, coming to kill her son.

But only James and Peter knew where to find her, so she tried to ignore her fears.

Happy chirping called her in the living room. James had brought chocolate frogs, and all kinds of soft sweets were lying on the floor.

Of course.

He had once bought his son a broomstick, when the Quidditch season had started.

He was a good father.

In her letter, the letter with which she had broken their relationship, a little more than three years ago, Lily had mentioned how things are bound to happen, and how James and her were not one of these things.

Now that she saw him play on the carpet with Harry, the possibility that she may had been wrong squeezed her heart.

But Fate knows how to be cruel.

It will never tell you what decision you have to take.

It will never allow you to step back.

It will never warn you of any danger.

As James stood to leave, half an hour later, in this chilly night dressed in the colors of autumn, Fate confirmed once more its superiority with a single, blood freezing sound.

Somebody knocked on the door.

#jilytober #Lily evans #james potter #hpwriters #hpwritersnet #jilychallenge #jily #***writing #au #angst #y'all I DIED #it's almost 10k and it was so hard to write #i wanted to say more but it didn't fit #i hate jilytober #i hate myself for writing that

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mx-requests-forum · 5 years

Text

[Fulfilled] Voted Most Likely... (Chapter Two)

Prompt: KiHo + highschool AU + bad boy wonho + cool nerd kihyun//couple goals

Fulfilled by Mod Ree

Words: 2781 (so far~)

AO3 Link

“You really should start looking at colleges, hyung,” Kihyun nags, glancing between Hyunwoo and his own boyfriend. “I’ve already picked out my top five, and I’m only a junior! What’ll happen if you two graduate without even thinking of life after you walk across that stage to get that empty envelope?? Absolutely nothing, that’s what.”

“Aiiish,” Hyungwon complains, pressing an index finger to each of his temples. “Please, either of you just name a random school to shut him up… Please .” Hyunwoo chuckles at his boyfriend’s sour expression, rubbing a consoling circle along the younger’s back. Hoseok laughs along with them, though he remains silent. He doesn’t have the heart to tell the boy that he doesn’t really want to go to college. It’s too expensive, and with his utter lack of extracurriculars, there’s no way he’d get any scholarships. It’d just be a big waste of resources, as what he wants to do for a living doesn’t even require a degree.

“I guess we’ll just have to figure out a list for you this weekend~” Kihyun concludes, winking at Hoseok as he speaks. Hoseok gives the younger a knowing smirk, blatantly ignoring the blush on his own cheeks.

“Jesus,” Minhyuk bemoans, sticking his tongue out in disgust. “You’d think that got you hot or something… No wonder you’re such a hardass for schoolwork.” Kihyun’s sweet gaze immediately turns vicious, and he whirls about to glare at his same-age friend as the tips of his ears blare red.

“Just because I want my boyfriend to succeed in life doesn’t mean I have a work fetish, Minhyuk-ah!!” he outright shouts, earning a handful of curious glances his way. Changkyun snickers under his breath, nudging Jooheon amusedly while the older snickers breathily. Hyungwon only rolls his eyes, hopping off the table and stalking off. Hyunwoo calmly follows after like a well-trained pup, carrying their bags as they go.

“Well…” Minhyuk cackles, his raspy tones echoing through the air, “at first I was just joking, but you were just way too defensive!!! Youuu have a work kiiink~” Minhyuk sings tauntingly, poking Kihyun’s shoulder with both his index fingers. Kihyun pushes his same-age friend away from him, straightening his own glasses as he tries to calm down.

Hoseok watches the whole thing bemusedly. He shakes his head, glancing around casually at the other students milling about. He freezes, though, at seeing a grimly familiar sign on the far wall. He pales, gulping thickly.

Not again.

“... Hoseok?”

He glances back to Kihyun, his heartbeat slowing with the memory of that symbol seared into his eyes. The symbol of a tiger’s tail wrapped around a knife, blood dripping from its blade.

Hoseok blinks, trying to shake the image from his mind. He pushes on a smile, shaking his head.

“Sorry,” he mutters, chuckling breathily. “I just got distracted. What were we saying…?” Kihyun purses his lips, clearly skeptical. It doesn’t surprise the older. After all, Kihyun’s always been able to tell when Hoseok is lying.

“Colleges,” Kihyun finally answers, his tone clipped short as he looks to his home-packed lunch. “I was asking if you at least wanted knew what your major will be.” Hoseok feels Minhyuk’s confused glance on him, though he doesn’t acknowledge it. Instead, he looks back towards the far window, where he’d seen the symbol pushed against the wall, but it isn’t there anymore.

Typical. They never leave evidence of themselves out long enough to be seen by anyone they don’t want to see.

“Uh… yeah, yeah,” Hoseok mutters in response, shaking his head in an attempt to clear it. He tilts his head to the side, the sight of his sweet, perfect boyfriend washing away the sudden fear that had entrapped his heart for that singular moment. “I have some ideas, but I haven’t decided yet.” Kihyun sighs, rolling his eyes and starting to nag him about how he’d be so lost without the younger.

Hoseok hums, unable to keep from faintly agreeing. The conversation flutters on, and Hoseok lets it fully distract him from his own worries. Maybe he’d only thought he saw what he did… Maybe it was just a trick of the light, a hallucination brought on by working too hard… That kind of stuff can happen, right? He’s pretty sure he’s heard of that kind of thing before.

After school that day, Hoseok goes directly to his mother’s cafe. Kihyun’s with him, and he’s pretty sure his mother’s smile brightens tenfold just at seeing the younger boy.

“Hi, Ms. Lee,” Kihyun greets with a respectful bow, though the woman immediately catapults herself from behind the counter to greet them both with a warm embrace.

“It’s been so long, Kihyunnie!” she says, her voice so overfilled with joy. “You shouldn’t be such a stranger! I told you, our home is your home.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “I’ve been pretty swamped with school lately… I promise to come by more often!” He says it so sweetly, his signature ear-to-ear grin at full-force on his face. Hoseok feels his love for the younger grow at least twenty times stronger just seeing it.

“Aah,” Hoseok’s mother says, straightening up and setting her hands on her hips, “could you get our tteoki to focus more on his schoolwork? He barely ever does homework on his own, and by now I don’t even know if he’s going to get into a good university!”

“Moooommmm,” Hoseok whines, his cheeks shifting from their typical pale pallor to a deep scarlet. His mother coos, pulling at Hoseok’s cheek before turning on her heel.

“I’ll leave you two to it,” she says, gesturing towards their usual table in the corner. “Just holler if you need anything.”

“Thank you!” Kihyun calls after her, already going towards the table. He slings his bag off his shoulder and sets it in one of the free chairs, opening it to pull out his Master Notebook. He clicks his pen, flipping the pages until he finds the one he’s looking for. “Now, about this project we have in chemistry—“

“The only chemistry I know is the kind we have for each other~” Hoseok teases, scooting his chair closer to Kihyun on instinct. Kihyun rolls his eyes, hitting Hoseok’s shoulder playfully as he straightens his glasses.

“Keep this up, and I’ll just cancel on our anniversary date next week,” Kihyun teases back. Hoseok’s impish grin immediately falls, instead replaced by a frown through which the world’s most lamented groan falls.

“Nooooooo,” Hoseok pouts, reaching over to pull Kihyun into a tight embrace to sway him around a bit. “You can’t do that to me, Kihyunnie~!! It’ll just break my heart!!!” Kihyun sighs loudly, though he’s completely relaxed against the older’s chest. Hoseok stills, feeling all too comfortable with Kihyun this close. He deflates in his seat a bit, burying his nose in Kihyun’s soft pink hair and inhaling deeply. His heartbeat picks up ever so slightly, just enough to give him the butterflies. He doesn’t understand how he can still get butterflies for his boyfriend after nearly a year of dating, but he figures it’s just because it’s Kihyun.

His perfect, sweet, adorable, feisty, pesky, naggy, beautiful Kihyunnie…

The image he’d seen back in the courtyard flashes against the backs of his eyelids, and he freezes. He tries to explain it away, not see it as it truly is, but it’s hard to deny the truth.

“Hoseokkie?” Kihyun asks, pulling back to stare up into his eyes. Hoseok glances down at him, forcing yet another easygoing smile.

“I-It’s nothing…” he says shyly, not looking at Kihyun’s eyes. He can never lie to Kihyun, especially not when looking into his star-like eyes. Kihyun watches him skeptically, though after a moment he let’s it drop. He fully pulls away, though, pointedly keeping his gaze on his notebook as he starts to talk. He goes on into the original topic, class, and starts listing off possibly topics they can talk about during their presentation. Hoseok interjects where he can, saying he can’t talk about that because he didn’t pay attention during that unit, or that he thinks he remembers this so they could maybe do it.

Neither discuss the lie, though it hangs over them like a fog, oppressing their underlying joy and squashing any attempts at humor or fun during their work. Kihyun leaves as soon as they get done, claiming he has to get home to help his mom with dinner, and Hoseok only accepts the excuse.

There’s no reason for him to call Kihyun out on a lie, after all, not when he’s guilty of doing the same.

#fulfilled request #update #fulfilled prompt #monsta x #monsta x fanfiction #high school au #kiho #lee hoseok #shin hoseok #yoo kihyun #bad boy wonho #nerd kihyun #fluff #angst

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adamarinayu · 6 years

Note

I really love your PK 2017 AU please more headcannons please?

Mm alright! I’m always happy to talk about anything PK related :) I’m just gonna list a lot of stuff, almost in a timeline kinda but not exactly.

This just might become a masterpost of this AU XD Because I wrote a lot of stuff. I suppose they’re less “headcanons” and more “abouts” than anything.

* Donald started dreaming of becoming an avenger in high school. Every vacation, many weekends and such Scrooge would take him and Della on adventures that would normally turn out badly for himself and like many kids, he fantasized about revenge. However, it wasn’t until he went to Italy for his language class’s culture trip (he was in year 4 Italian) that he found inspiration to actually become Paperinik (or the Duck Avenger).

* Like in the old Paperinik comics, he was originally basically a prankster (less malicious in this AU, since it doesn’t fit DT17 Donald’s personality to be malicious) out to get revenge on Scrooge and Gladstone (and sometimes Della, too). (As an aside, in my personal canon he joins the navy at 18; in this AU, becoming Paperinik changes that, and he never joins the navy.)

* Donald’s thirst for revenge pretty quickly shifted into a thirst for justice, which is what started him on becoming a hero. As he was one day planning revenge on Gladstone with a gag gun he ended up in a situation where only he could stop the bad guy (in this case, it was a robber roughing someone up in the alley in which he was hiding in wait for Gladstone). He managed to stop the robber with his “gun” and the victim managed to get away and call the cops. He was hailed a hero rather than a menace after this, and with that taste of heroics he decided he wanted to keep up being a hero, almost completely dropping the revenge aspect of his identity (yet still known to locals as the Duck Avenger (despite him insisting on being called Paperinik)).

* After deciding to become a hero, Donald realized he needed actual gadgets. Although in DT17 Gyro looks pretty young, I’m just gonna go out on a limb and say he’s older than he looks and that he and Donald knew each other when they were younger (though not very well), and Donald knew he was a genius. So when Donald realized he needed gadgets, Gyro was the first person he thought of, and Gyro provided him with his gadgets for the first year or so of him being a hero (~aged 18-19).

* Donald does, in fact, have his old 313 (a small soft-top two-door convertible (it does have a backseat, uncomfortable though it may be)), which was a highschool graduation gift from Scrooge and Grandma. Simple, cheap (it’s an old car), and a car Donald had had his eye on since he was literally a child, Scrooge decided he could spoil Donald and Della just a little by getting them the cars they wanted (Grandma pitches in, but Scrooge covers most of it since he’s a trillionaire). Therefore, Gyro still tricks it out into the 313-X.

* Donald still adventures with Scrooge and Della, so he’s not exactly a full-time hero. However, when he’s gone Gyro deals with the problems in the city with his genius (robots, holograms, warning the police, etc).

* When Donald is ~19/20, Scrooge buys Ducklair Tower and Donald works there (by his own choice, of course) between adventures, not wanting to feel like he’s freeloading even if his uncle is the one who signs his paychecks. Also it gives him more leeway to be away from Scrooge and Della when he’s in Duckburg, not having to make up some ridiculous excuse to get away. This leads to him meeting Uno, and not only upgrades his tech but also the threats he’s dealing with. He goes from part-time crimefighter to full-time hero, not just in Duckburg but all over the world and, after meeting Lyla, time (where he ends up meeting Odin Eidolon). Things get much more difficult around this time as bigger threats start showing up, and Donald and Gyro both understand that Gyro’s assistance is no longer needed or good enough (Gyro hated admitting that) with Uno, an advanced (and also alien, spoiler alert) AI in the picture.

* Shortly after meeting Uno is when Donald gets the PKar (Duckmobile in the English translation, I think, but I prefer calling it the PKar), making the 313-X completely obsolete, and it enables Donald to deal with threats all over the world. Despite this, Donald keeps the 313-X as long as possible, until it becomes such a safety hazard Uno, concerned for Donald’s life, finally convinces Donald to at least take the “X” mechanics off. Donald agrees, under the condition that it’s still able to fly.

* When they’re 22, Della finds out that Donald and Paperinik are the same person. She’s simultaneously proud and worried, and does what she can to throw Scrooge’s suspicions when Donald is absent. For the record; Della is terrible at acting, and Donald is about 98% sure that she made Scrooge even more suspicious. He’s grateful for her help, anyway.

* Random fact needed for those who have read PKNA and understand why it took Uno 200 years to become an android canon-wise, Due’s story ends in Donald’s time, rather than two hundred years in the future, meaning (spoiler alert) Uno absorbs what’s left of Due more “now”ish than “later”ish, enabling him to become an android sooner.

* On his very last trip to the future, when Donald is 22, going on 23, Odin gave him a computer chip and told him to give it to “his tech guy,” obviously meaning Uno. Donald does as told, which later proves to be a very good thing; not long after, Ducklair Tower is destroyed, thankfully after everyone clears out of the building… well, everyone who could leave. Uno is Ducklair Tower (the AI who controlled everything inside), and with its destruction Uno should have essentially died. Among the rubble, though, Donald finds the chip Odin gave him, and on a whim decided to put it in his computer back at home. Lo and behold, Uno was on that chip, having been saved. Uno is as confused/surprised as Donald is, but relieved.

* That chip enables Uno to go into any device it’s installed on, causing Uno to basically be anywhere Donald is (so long as he doesn’t turn his phone off). On the chip there are also instructions on how to make 23rd century androids, which gives Donald the idea to build an android body for Uno so he isn’t stuck in his phone or computer. Donald, however, is no scientist and struggles a lot, and it’s only under Uno’s careful direction he’s able to do it.

* He continued being PK until Della disappeared.The triplets were left in his care and between jobs and children, Donald realized he couldn’t keep up with being a hero. Uno understood, and since the bigger threats to the planet as a whole were gone he didn’t put up much protest, knowing how important raising the kids was to Donald. This, however, also put a stop to the android being built.

* One night when Donald couldn’t sleep and the triplets were finally asleep, Donald decided to continue working on the android, if only to distract himself. After that he worked on it in his free time- whenever he was between jobs and the triplets were at school, when the triplets were at Junior Woodchuck meetings or camps, etc etc. It takes him years to complete the android- in fact, it’s not completed until after Scrooge and Donald are talking again.

* The first thing Uno does with his new android body? Follows Donald and the family across the world and ends up saving Donald’s life when he nearly falls off the mountain. This prompts an unplanned, early meeting between Uno and the family, where they have to quickly come up with a story that doesn’t contradict. That story ends up being;

They met in Italy when Donald went on his culture trip and Uno (who had been designed with an English accent but needed a reason to have an Italian name) went to find out more about his ancestry, and they became friends and kept in contact afterwards.

This is followed up with the claim that Uno was planning to move to Duckburg, and Donald “offered” a room on the houseboat (knowing damn well Uno’s been living there for 11 or 12 years already…) until he found a place. Uno then joins them for the rest of the adventure, him and Donald talking about what has actually happened in Italian. The rest of the family (bar Scrooge) is surprised Donald knows Italian.

* At some point, Donald discovers his old 313 in one of Scrooge’s storage units. Donald had left it behind when he and Scrooge fell out, not wanting to “owe” Scrooge anything, and bought a car better suited for driving children around in. He’s surprised that Scrooge kept it all this time, and Scrooge reminds him that it’s Donald’s car, and Donald gets his trusty old 313 back. Ten years of neglect means it needs serious TLC, but Donald and Uno are willing to put in the work needed to fix it back up. The kids aren’t impressed with the 313; all they see is an old car, but Donald, Uno, Gladstone and Scrooge all have memories about that car.

* Uno doesn’t go with them to St. Canard where Donald & Co. (including Gladstone) meet Darkwing Duck. Donald, though, on a whim took his Paperinik suit (which Uno noticed), and ends up donning the suit in order to save his family with Darkwing’s help. Darkwing, afterwards, talks to Paperinik about it, encouraging him to take up hero work again, as “[his] kids are growing up and don’t need so much protecting, but there’s an entire world that doesn’t even know it’s in trouble, and it needs heroes.”

* Also, it’s on this St. Canard trip that Gladstone, of all people, finds out Donald is Paperinik. While going out to eat with Donald, Scrooge, the kids (including Gosalyn) and Drake Mallard, Gladstone realizes he was missing his wallet and doubles back to the room he’s sharing with Donald. Unfortunately for Donald, who had haphazardly thrown his PK suit back into its secret compartment, Gladstone notices part of the suit sticking out of the suitcase. He pulls it out and realizes the truth- not just because Donald has the suit, but because the suit is warm. It was, clearly, just worn. He goes to rejoin the others, intending to confront Donald about it, but when he sees Donald listening as the kids all excitedly recounted what happened he realizes he just can’t do that to Donald. Donald doesn’t know until much later that Gladstone knows.

* After the St. Canard trip, Donald recounts what happened to Uno, who agrees with Darkwing but ultimately leaves the decision up to Donald. After some debate, Donald decides they’re right, but he needs a proper HQ again. Uno is delighted by this prospect; he totally wants a facility to play with again. This ends up with them salvaging the remains of Ducklair tower (including a certain AI in a super secret chamber *cough*) from where they’re stored, and rebuilding the tower. Yes, they totally get Everett Ducklair’s help for this. Even after the tower is rebuilt (and left in possession of Solomon (the AI mentioned earlier)) Uno sticks mostly to his android form, but is capable of retaking the AI space in the tower (just as Solomon is able to do, as well) when needed.

* As a funny note, one day at the mansion everyone’s just hanging out together inside when Solomon just shows up at the door, needing to speak to Donald (and annoyed that he wasn’t picking up the phone). Cue confusion as everyone tries to figure out how Donald knows Solomon, and Donald and Uno having to come up with an excuse on the spot (“Right uhhh Solomon is actually Uno’s older brother! So uh, yeah.” “… They look nothing alike.” “Adopted brother.” “They have different last names.” “We kept our birth names.” “But-” “They’re brothers, okay?”)

* EVRONIANS RETURN. Because I actually like the Evronians. Their return is what solidifies Donald’s choice to return to hero work.

* Scrooge is incredibly suspicious of Donald being PK, and has been for years. However, he has no solid proof and keeps his beak shut about it.

* Donald and Uno realize Gladstone knows Donald is PK when Donald (as Donald) has to save their tails and Gladstone is not surprised at all. I won’t go into details about this scene because I really want to write/draw it out. This moment is also what convinces Scrooge that Donald is Paperinik.

* The way they all find out Uno is an android differs from person to person, most on accident but at least one is Uno telling them. Not gonna reveal details for this one, though.

* Duckburg may or may not be destroyed at some point…

And I have to go for now, but this is a good list of things about this AU. It’s not canon-compliant, but I tried to make the AU follow canon as closely as possible while mixing in some of the PK canon, too. Which is, surprisingly, less hard to do since Huey, Dewey and Louie weren’t that involved in PK in the first place.

#Ask #DuckTales 2017 AU #PK DT17 AU #These are more like facts/events than headcanons #But yeah

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vagrantblvrd · 7 years

Text

Begin to Howl (1/1)

Summary: If Geoff thinks Ryan's going to be a stabilizing influence on his favorite group of lunatics, he's a goddamn fool.

Notes: This started out as a Battle Buddies AU and mutated on me. /o\

AO3

If Geoff thinks Ryan's going to be a stabilizing influence on his favorite group of lunatics, he's a goddamn fool.

“Hey, Ryan,” Geoff says, off-hand and super casual. “Shut the fuck up.”

Ryan rolls his eyes and studies the dossiers Geoff's thrown down in front of him. Jones, Free, and the newest Lost Boy to make it to the agency, Dooley.

“Look,” Ryan says, kicking back in his chair to look Geoff right in his beady little eyes. “I'm just telling you the truth.”

He's worked for Geoff going on years now. Handling a lot of the behind the scenes shit Jack doesn't have the time to deal with on top of his own duties, and Geoff just straight out lacks the patience or skills for.

Things no one likes doing but still needs to be done if they want things running smoothly. Or you know. Smooth-ish.

Ryan hasn't been in the field for a while now, but he keeps up with his certifications because he's not an idiot and they've all made enemies over the years. Have reasons why getting sloppy, becoming complacent with their lot in life is liable to get them killed messily sooner or later.

And now Geoff wants him to become team leader for three of his most unpredictable people who have a tendency to land the more problematic missions.

Whether it's because Control thinks they're the most qualified agents to tackle said missions or are taking bets as to how long their luck can hold out, even Ryan isn't sure.

Lunatics or not, they're some of the most adaptable bastards Ryan's seen walk through the agency's doors in a long time. Between Michael's solid performance and ability to keep a level head in the worst situations despite the occasional...flareup where his temper is concerned. Gavin's...unique way of looking at the world, and Jeremy's combination of skills and sheer determination they make a solid team.

Unfortunately, their special blend of skills and personalities have forged them into a unit most team leaders aren't prepared to handle. They've gone through several senior agents in the past year, ever since Geoff pulled himself from field duty citing personal issues after a mission went wrong and nearly got them all killed. Moved up into an administrative role in the agency that's killing him by inches.

Geoff loves those idiots, and he's not willing to send them into the kind of missions they're suited for unless he knows they have a team leader he can trust them with. Someone who won't try to stifle them, force them to operate by the book when they're hardly what you'd call model agents. Not the sort to stick to the plan when a better option makes itself available.

“Michael's mellowed with time,” Geoff says, ticking factors off his fingers he thinks will sway Ryan to his side. “Gavin's...well. Gavin's learned a new appreciation for not being a complete dumbass, and Jeremy - “

Ryan steeples his hands as he leans back in his chair. Smiles, big and wide and waits for Geoff to finish that sentence in a way that doesn't make Jeremy sound like the agency's up-and-coming head maniac.

Geoff sighs, dropping his hand and looking the very picture of a broken man leading a tiny army of the disturbingly unhinged.

“He fucking reminds me of you,” Geoff says, and they both know that's a bad thing. A very bad thing because Ryan had been a great agent, back in the day, if a bit...creative about the way he'd interpret orders. “Makes me wish I still drank.”

Ryan levels a look at Geoff, who makes a face in return. Eyes rolling as he drops into the chair across from Ryan.

“Fuck you, fine. I don't, but goddamn that kid. Being on a team with Gavin just makes things worse.”

And that -

Yeah, no.

Gavin's a bad influence on just about anyone he comes into contact with. Part of the reason he'd been partnered with Michael almost from the get-go.

Geoff had taken one look at that gawky, scrawny kid fresh off a plane from England and realized he was trouble. Thought pairing him with someone like Michael who showed the kind of basic common sense the agency lacked in spades would be a good idea.

Five years on and they're inseparable. Michael's snapping and snarling and yelling now tinged with overwhelming fondness and affection instead of raw anger. Gavin willingly letting Michael take the lead, all too often a quiet little shadow at his back with sharp eyes and such a clever, clever mind.

Goddamn instigator, and always Michael there to step in if (when) he gets in over his head, and now there's Jeremy. Good-natured and more than capable of keeping up with both of them, and Ryan knows for a fact he's the brains behind half the messes those idiots get themselves into lately.

And now Geoff wants him to take charge of these little bastards, lead them into hostile situations and get them back home again in one piece or as close to it as he can manage. Thinks Ryan could – not bring them to heel, God no - but at least fake it well enough the bureaucrats would be appeased.

Lord knows the agency isn't exactly known for their restraint, but they're valuable to the right people and so far those people have managed to stay in power. Protecting them from people who have no idea what it's like all the way down here where things get messy, ugly.

“Fuck you, no,” Ryan says with feeling. “I've done my time out there, same as you, Geoff. Like hell you're getting me out there with those idiots under my command.”

Ryan says the words with confidence, so, so certain, but Geoff.

Geoff gives him this tired little smile. The same one he'd given Ryan all those months ago when Ryan asked him if he was sure retiring from fieldwork was what he really wanted.

And Ryan -

“Give it a month,” Geoff says, and it's like some bizarre role-reversal going on here that sparks a bit of genuine anger deep down in Ryan because they're Geoff's team, not his. Not Ryan's in any way that matters, and Geoff knows it. “See what happens.”

========

The hell of it is, Ryan knows them, Geoff's idiots.

He was there when each of them came to the agency. Was still taking part in missions with his own team, going out there and doing a little bit of good in between all the wrong.

Coming back to HQ to debrief. Seeing the agency shrinks and bleeding out all the ugly things he'd seen and done on the floor of their pristine offices and feeling like he never got it all out. That there was always something that clung on, sinking its hooks into him and refusing to let go until he asked (all but begged) to be pulled from field duty.

Found himself a desk down in one of the sub-basements and set up shop, built himself a little kingdom down there that had feelers in every department of the agency. Fed him intel on every little thing that happened within its walls and gave it all over to Geoff and Jack because they were the only ones he's ever trusted with any of it.

Ryan was there when Jack and Geoff brought Michael in. This quiet, watchful kid putting up with no-one's bullshit, and it had made him a few enemies in the early days. Morons who didn't last long at the agency through their own idiocy and small-mindedness.

He took note of Gavin when he came in on Burnie's heels, wide-eyed and full of questions. Always poking and prodding and everywhere all the goddamn time. Making friends and enemies all in the same breath, and seemingly unaware of the effect he had on people.

Ryan never heard the full story concerning Jeremy. Just remembers seeing him almost literally stumble through the agency's doors pulled along by Gavin with Geoff strolling just ahead of them, this look on Geoff's face like he knew something no one else did about this quiet, surprisingly well-mannered kid.

And, oh, hadn't he shaken things up, Jeremy.

Looked like a quiet one, eyes sharp and inquisitive. Friendly enough smile on his face, and always ready with a joke or some terrible pun. Self-deprecating and something endearing in that humble-aw-shucks way he has to him, but it was as much of an act as Gavin's stupidity.

Hid the way that mind of his worked, slick and tricky as Gavin's – worse, sometimes – and the kind of skills and abilities to back all of that up. Solidness to him that Gavin lacked, feet planted firmly on the ground and eyes looking skyward, little smirk pulling at his lips.

Ryan knows them, has seen the shit they get up to when they're around HQ too long without a mission to burn that restless energy out of them. (May have, although there's no surviving proof, lent a hand a time or two over the years.)

He feels their focus snap to him the moment he walks into the briefing room set aside for their use.

Sees the way Michael's eyes narrow ever so slightly. The way Gavin looks up from his phone, head cocked, faint smile playing on his lips. Jeremy lifting his head, feet kicked up in front of him on the briefing room able, Aviators hiding his eyes from sight.

Like walking up to a pack of half-feral dogs, wary and suspicious and ready to tear into him the moment he makes a wrong move.

Geoff Ramsey's boys, his Lads.

Three of the most terrifying agents to work for the agency since its inception a decade and a half ago. Since fucking Geoff Ramsey and his original team, back in the day.

“What the hell did you do to Senior Agent Marshall?” Ryan asks, because he's met nothing but dead-ends every time he goes searching for answers.

And that's not something that should happen, given what happened to the bastard. (Every little bit deserved because Marshall had been the worst kind of agent, but that's not the kind of sentiment Ryan should have according to the agency's handbook.)

Marshall had been lazy and arrogant, giving the kinds of orders that would have gotten lesser agents killed and just smart enough to hide his incompetence from his superiors. The people who should have caught it before it went as far as it did.

Before it landed Michael and Jeremy in the infirmary with broken bones and holes in them the size and shape of bullets. Gavin the only one of them still standing (on a technicality) with Control scrambling to figure out what had gone wrong. Geoff and Jack both in DC for budgetary meetings, and Marshall trying to pin the blame on the Lads. Citing their past track records, tendency to go off-book, throw a little flair in there, their collective penchant for fiery explosions.

In retrospect, Marshall's luckier than he knows to have gotten off so lightly, considering.

Gavin's got a mean streak in him that doesn't surface all that often, but when someone threatens what's important to him? You'd better pray to whatever higher being you hold dear someone can rein him in. (Unfortunate for Marshall, then, that his incompetence had removed his two best bets of getting out of the situation unscathed. So very, very unfortunate.)

Michael settles back in his chair, slow smirk pulling at his mouth. Gavin's eyes brightening as he sets his phone down and sits up, and Jeremy barks out a laugh as he pulls the Aviators off, smirk on his face to mirror Michael's.

“I don't know what you're on about,” Michael says in that atrocious parody of a British accent he tends to adopt from time to time, taking the lead on this the way he always does.

Ryan locks eyes with him, and Michael just looks back. This sort of vicious satisfaction in his eyes, and Ryan finds he can't fault him for it. Not when Marshall had put his entire team at risk, and if it's one thing the Lads are, it's loyal.

To their team first, the agency second, everyone else never.

Ryan sighs, feels that strange tug of affection for these idiots he's always felt somewhere in the vicinity where his heart should be. (Rumors says he lost it years ago on a mission gone bad. Defective body armor, and the lucky shot that heralded the rise of the Mad King with his little kingdom down on sub-basement D because the agency's rumor mill is ever so creative.)

“Sure, okay,” Ryan says, and tosses down mission folders on the table by Jeremy's feet. Flips a little USB drive over to Gavin who plucks it neatly out of the air. “We've got a mission.”

Ryan pauses, looking at each of them in turn. Highly trained and skilled agents who have years of field experience under their belts.

“It would be nice,” he says, “if I knew you trusted me, but I'll settle for knowing you'll listen to me out there.”

He likes these idiots, doesn't want to be the one leading them to their deaths.

Michael cracks his neck, eyes sliding towards Gavin who looks down at the USB drive in his hands. Turning it over and over as he thinks. Jeremy drops his feet to the floor and sits up, shoulders squared, and Ryan?

He waits.

Waits, because Michael's the one to take the lead when someone comes in to challenge the order of things here. The way things work with this team since Geoff retired from fieldwork. To put himself out there, loud and brash and stubborn down to his core.

Gavin, though.

He handles things like this, brokers little deals. Arrangements and understandings.

This odd mix of harmlessness and a charming sort of enthusiasm to him that pulls people’s eyes away from Michael and Jeremy to focus on him. Have them making the mistake of thinking the Lads are anything but dangerous.

After a moment Gavin looks up at Ryan and smiles, small and crooked and real.

“I think if anyone's earned that much here aside from Geoff and Jack, Ryan, it's you,” he says.

Ryan looks at him. At Michael and Jeremy and it's -

Well, it's not quite like being kicked in the ribs because Ryan knows that feeling a little too well, but it's close enough. Realizes, seeing the way these idiots are willing to put what little trust they have to give over these days to him, Geoff knew exactly what he was doing when he went to Ryan.

========

Unsurprisingly, their first mission in the field as a team doesn't go exactly as planned.

“Jesus Christ,” Ryan says, staring in awe at the flaming wreckage that used to be a nice little mountain villa belonging to the head of a drug cartel.

”Mission accomplished,” Michael says flatly, Jeremy's delighted laughter in the background. ”We could use a pick-up.”

Ryan slides a look towards Gavin sitting in the pilot's seat of their borrowed helicopter and isn't all that surprised by the manic grin on his face.

“You heard him,” Ryan says, wondering how the hell he's supposed to explain this to Control.

This was supposed to be a nice little shakedown mission for them, figure out how to work as a team. Get to know one another's quirks and idiosyncrasies, and -

Technically – technically – it's working because Ryan is now well acquainted with the fact that sending Michael and Jeremy off on their own is a bad idea. Probably shouldn't have done it, but God knows what would have happened if he'd sent Gavin with Michael or Jeremy.

Gavin coos as something explodes on the east side of the villa belonging to the cartel leader. Michael and Jeremy were supposed to take out quietly while Ryan and Gavin dealt with the cargo planes at the little airstrip hidden up in the mountains.

It's pretty as all hell, so Ryan will give him that, but it's also just a wee bit noticeable.

There's already chatter on cartel's radio frequency they're tapped into, and it's going to be a challenge getting out of here in one piece.

And Ryan.

He tried, to get Geoff to see reason when he handed the Lads over to him expecting Ryan to be a stabilizing influence on them, he really did, because – well.

There's a significant part of Ryan that's duly impressed with Michael and Jeremy for wreaking more havoc than he and Gavin did, and they're in a gunship kitted out with a gatling gun firing explosive rounds.

Incredible, really.

========

“Congratulations,” Geoff says, kicking back in the chair across from Ryan. Smug as hell and radiating this exhausting sort of glee. “I heard the mission was a success.”

Ryan scowls at Geoff and wishes for a brief, fleeting moment he actually drank.

“Sometimes I really don’t like you.”

Geoff cackles that goddamn hyena laugh of his as he sets down a six-pack of Diet Coke on Ryan's desk.

“Shut the fuck up, you love me,” he says, making gimme gestures for Ryan's laptop and the report he's been working on for half the night. “Now let me show you how to bullshit Control when it comes to what those little bastards do in the field.”

Ryan looks at Geoff, thinks I'm never going to make it a month with these lunatics, and hands his laptop over because Geoff knows him too damn well. Knows Ryan's been waiting on a team like this.

“Fucking seriously, Geoff,” Ryan says, reaching for a can of Diet Coke, something settling in him at Geoff's crooked grin. “Sometimes I really don't like you.”

Continents

#vagrant fic #ah fic #i have no impulse control #idk how to tag this

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avoresmith · 7 years

Text

fics I really want to write, but won’t for a variety of reasons, chief among them being ‘AV u aren’t even that productive lately, maybe get your shit together’.

The MGR2 epic wherein Raiden becomes the cyborg big boss we always deserved and also results in Sam/Jack/Rose ot3 during which Rose has Sam’s entrapment baby that she names Joy

TIAMGR wherein I just viciously use MGS tropes to write an Overwatch epic full of Surprising Character Reveals, world dominating AIs, and lots of ill advised yet satisfying sex

four chapter fic wherein i rewrite every midboss battle in MGS4 so that B&B corp actually has personality, nothing else changes

epic length AU of IPUYB wherein Kaz sticks with David, encourages him to hit on Otacon for real tho, helps finance Philanthropy, has a lot of sex literally of which is a bad idea in almost every possible direction, and dies to Foxdie at the end of MGS4.

Something short with young Raiden and Solidus?? (This could possibly happen due to the SHORT part).

Something with Kaz and Quiet if I ever have a single idea like god damn that ship tho

Porny oneshot ghostsex with Reigen and Dimple

Epic AU where i don’t even fucking know I just want to write Rhys and Jack again?? Did you know I could write Rhys and Jack literally all day?? something something beautiful capitalist assholes take over the universe and are just the worst all the time. Angel lives and Jack has to spend some time in a Claptrap unit.

WHAT I WILL ACTUALLY WRITE

The next 6-8 chapters of Truce

The start to The Wife Project

A novel??? maybe??? involving bro complexes and/or unstable people who only become stable when in a complicated and socially unacceptable OT3? and amnesia??

Maybe I should actually make myself a Truce FST. almost all of the ‘stuff i want to do but won’t’ are directly inspired by soundtracks I keep listening to.

#op me #writing #whining #why can't i just go straight to the part where my day job is writing #so i can do that for eight hours a day and still have other hobbies

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