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prodagustd · 3 months ago

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the road not taken 07 | myg

part seven: old wounds

Summary: You really, really tried to ignore Yoongi. But once again, you failed.

—pairing: lawyer!yoongi x actress!oc

—rating: +18

—genre: brother's best friend, one sided pinning (or both?), slow burn

—warnings/tags: slow burn, angst, fluff.

—words: 9.7k

—a/note: hi friends!! can't even begin to describe the amount of mental breakdowns i had writing this but here is it!! i doubted myself too many times before posting this one (still am), idk why it was so hard to finish but i'm glad it's here, i hope you enjoy and as always, you're welcomed to discuss this part in the asks!!

series masterlist | teaser | playlist

Present

It was such a mistake to even insinuate that the years that had passed had made you wiser, or that the hurt and heartbreak had made you stronger, more decisive, or less stubborn. If anything, you continued to make the same mistakes, you were ten times more sensitive and you had developed a level of stubbornness that was almost impossible to shake. You had spent years consumed by bitterness, only to learn nothing from it, and still, you wanted to trust yourself and stop doubting every decision you made, but it was hard considering you were the same person who led yourself here.

A few days ago, when Minnie said she just wanted to show you a few ideas to help The Alley, what she really meant was that she had already mapped out a full schedule for you long before you even knew what was going on. You assumed she might want your help with organizing things—selling tickets on movie nights to show your face for a few seconds and draw in more people, painting a few walls, or changing some light bulbs—but you couldn’t have been more wrong.

As she turned the pages of her diary, you tried to make sense of every word she was saying, remaining silent as you patiently waited for her to finish so you could finally get a chance to speak.

“You want me to direct the end-of-year play?” you asked, needing to confirm what she had just said. “In only three months?”

Your redhead friend slowly nodded, looking you straight in the eye as if she just hadn’t gone completely crazy.

“That’s plenty of time.”

You shook your head in disbelief. “You and I both know that’s not remotely—that’s not even half the time I would need.”

Minnie rolled her eyes and stood up, walking over to the large board behind her. It was a chaotic collage of crumpled pieces of paper, faded photographs, and yellowed old letters, all pinned in a disorganized frenzy that seemed to mirror the whirlwind of her thoughts.

“Bullshit. You’re like… Broadway trained or something. You’re the only person who can pull it off.”

You sit back against the chair, sighing. You wanted to help Minnie, not only because she was your best friend but because this was the place you grew up in. Yet, despite your best intentions, a wave of overwhelm crept in, making it hard to ignore. Deep down, or maybe not so deep down, you knew that the time wouldn’t be a problem, that directing was one of your secret passions and wouldn't be a burden at all, but the real problem was that you still didn’t feel prepared to show your face around.

Here was the catch: you couldn’t say no. You knew Minnie, you could make thousands of excuses and she would find a solution for each one of them, so you had two options: say yes right away, or say no until she finally made you say yes.

“And it’s an original play, you say? Written by one of the kids?” You asked, already knowing which option would be easier.

“Yes...” She replied softly. “You know, like the ones you used to write when you were a kid…”

You tried not to roll your eyes. Classic Minnie, guilt-tripping you until you had no choice but to agree.

You chuckled bitterly, suddenly remembering that six months ago, you had told your therapist that you were asking for an opportunity like this—a chance to redeem yourself, something close to a miracle. Yet now, with it right in front of you, you were hesitant to take it. You had to suppress the urge to call her without notice to ask her opinion about everything. Agnes, who always seemed to be at the end of her patience with your self-sabotaging tendencies, would be sitting in her office back in the city, she would pick up your call and tell you that this could be the perfect chance to reconnect—not only with your hometown and your friends but with your old self as well. She would say this was exactly why you had decided to come back home, and you would’ve hated hearing it. You would’ve hated admitting she might be right.

You straightened up, trying to look serious. “Let me read it first,” you said. “Then we can talk about it.”

“Mmmm… I have a better proposition.” She argued, “You read it and start tomorrow.”

“You’re kidding,” You replied, incredulous.

She clapped her hands, sealing the deal with a finality that made it clear she wasn’t joking. “Of course I’m not. We can’t afford to waste time,” she said matter-of-factly. “We need to call the kids, arrange the theater—which, by the way, is under maintenance, but that won’t be an issue. The lights will be fixed by morning, and you can start in the afternoon. And oh, you’ll need to…”

“Minnie!” You yelled, making her stop abruptly “Stop talking and give me a second, Christ…”

Your friend nodded, a bit embarrassed of her sudden excitement. She sat back in her chair, quietly observing you as you tried to make up a plan in your head.

“Okay, I’ll read the play tonight, and tomorrow morning I would need to talk with the person who wrote it. Then, we’ll see if we start in the afternoon.” You stated. She nodded in contentment, but you knew she was holding back. “C’mon, don’t look at me like that…”

“Like what?” She huffed.

“Like a lost puppy.” You rolled your eyes “I said I will help, right?”

“You said that, yes…” She trailed off “But I don’t want you to just help, you know? If it’s not too much to ask, I would like you to put your heart to it.”

You chuckled, knowing that she meant every word. “I know that.”

“Well, I hope you do.” She sighed “These kids… they were so disappointed when they found out we couldn’t pay the last teacher anymore. It’s not just about the play, it’s about everything, this place is like a second home. Hell, for most of them it’s like the first one… I just want to make it count.”

Minnie looked at you like she could read every thought in your mind.

“I know.” You said, feeling like a fourteen year old all over again “I understand.”

“I know you do.” She nodded, smiling with her eyes. “Of course you do.”

You couldn’t fully believe in fate. Or in irony, or the universe having some big plan, and yet when you finished reading the script for the play you thought it was written just to fuck with you.

The play was about some girl, June, growing up in The Alley as she tried to find herself. That was the story, that was the big dramatic theme of the play you somehow agreed to direct. How groundbreaking, how deeply, earth-shattering not cliché. And still, something about it got under your skin. Not exactly in a bad way, it felt… familiar. The kind of familiarity that made you shift in your seat, like when someone says something uncomfortably true about you, but you couldn’t argue because they were right.

The whole who am I, where do I belong thing—hasn’t that been done a million times before? Haven’t you seen it, loved it, run away from it? Maybe that’s why it bothered you. Because it was too easy to see yourself in it.

Not that you’d admit that.

That Saturday morning you were meeting Harriet, the writer of the play that gave you nightmares last night, to discuss the script, offer a few pointers, and try to organize the first rehearsal. You exhaled sharply, it was just a play, nothing more. You tried not to overthink it, but Minnie thought otherwise.

“So?” Minnie asked as she organized her bag. You looked up to her from your coffee, sitting at the end of her table. “Did you like the play?”

You shrugged, with eyes barely open. “It’s good.”

Minnie narrowed her eyes, sitting next to you. “Good?” She snorted, “C’mon, you liked it.”

“Sure, I liked it,” you said, taking a sip of your coffee. “The dialogue’s good, the pacing is solid. It’s relatable, I guess.”

“Mhm…” Minnie drummed her fingers lightly against the edge of the table. She was quiet for a beat, clearly waiting for you to say more. When you didn’t, she tilted her head, smirking like she knew exactly where this was going. “You don’t see it, then?”

You raised an eyebrow. “See what?”

“Yourself?”

God. Of course.

Here we go again. You should’ve known better than to think you’d get through a full conversation without her dragging you into some self-reflection trap.

You let out a soft scoff, lowering your cup. “What do you mean?”

“You do see it.” Minnie grinned, all too satisfied. “It’s like a therapy session in script format.”

You rolled your eyes. “An angsty teenager who’s angry at the world, fighting her way into adulthood? Isn’t that the story of every single kid in that place?” You said, recalling the script—though you refused to admit it sounded a little too familiar.

“No, not like this,” she insisted. “It’s different. It reminded me of you.”

You sighed, leaning back in your chair. “You always say that.”

“Because every time I say it, it’s true,” she replied, unbothered. “You know I know you like the back of my hand, right? Inside and out. You can’t hide anything from me.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Well, I know you too—and right now, I know you’re being very, very annoying.”

Minnie rolled her eyes so dramatically it made you laugh.

“You really don’t see it?” she asked again, gentler this time.

You looked away, pretending to be way too interested in the last sip of your coffee. “I see a lot of things,” you said, vaguely.

She let out a quiet breath through her nose, like she wanted to keep poking but decided against it.

“Fine.” She sighed, finally letting it go—for now—as she stood up and grabbed her empty mug. “You’re meeting Harriet today, right?”

You nodded.

“Don’t be mean to her.”

“I’m never mean.”

“You terrify people.”

“Only the weak,” you replied, standing as well. “And if she’s anything like me, she’ll be fine.”

The hallway to the main theater was dim, almost dark. Anyone walking in for the first time might assume it was just another maintenance issue—one of the many The Alley was always plagued with—but you knew better. It had always been like this. The lights flickered sometimes, the floor creaked in all the right places, and the smell of paint never really left the walls.

Cork boards lined the walls, cluttered with wrinkled flyers and announcements for local events. Above them, big framed photos of past theater productions hung in no particular order—some crooked, most dusty. No one ever fixed them, but they had their charm.

The place was still quiet and empty, almost peaceful. Only your footsteps echoed softly as you walked, your script folded under one arm. Minnie was beside you, phone in one hand, her second coffee of the day in the other, talking nonstop about everything she had to deal with before noon.

“…and we’re out of paper towels again, and someone stole the good extension cord, so now I’m down to that weird one from the lost and found that sparks if you look at it wrong. Also, we’re probably getting fined if we don’t fix the exit sign by Friday, and—”

You let her talk. It helped you focus. Or, at least, pretend you were focusing.

Minnie knew you like no other person, but still couldn’t remember one core fact of your existence: you were not, by any stretch of the imagination, a morning person.

And today, it turned out, that wasn’t the only thing she forgot.

You were just approaching the theater doors, head slightly bowed, mentally rehearsing the day ahead, when you heard it.

A low laugh, soft and achingly familiar.

You turned your head slowly, as if giving yourself time to be wrong. But of course you weren’t.

Because somehow, Minnie forgot to tell you that the person handling repairs today was none other than Yoongi.

Your eyes moved on instinct. You didn’t mean to look—you just did. And there he was.

The man in question was perched on a ladder, with his sleeves rolled up and a screwdriver in hand fixing a reflector, while a tall boy held it steady, laughing as he jokingly threatened to shake it. A flicker of irritation sparked in your chest. Of course he was the one handling the repairs, of course Minnie casually forgot to mention that to you.

You turned around to shoot your friend a threatening look, but she just pushed you forward, forcing you to keep walking.

You made your way towards the center of the room, trying not to pay attention to the scene, but as the sounds of your steps filled the room. You didn’t have to look to know both of them had stopped laughing. You didn’t have to guess to feel their eyes following you across the stage like the past itself had stepped into the room and sat down beside them.

“Good morning guys.” Minnie said, dropping her bags on one of the seats. “My friend right here is going to help us with the play this morning. I think you know her, Jungkook?”

You turned around just in time to see the boy abandon the ladder and bolt towards you at full speed, while Yoongi, left stranded at the top, clung to it, visibly irritated.

He murmured something under his breath, too quiet to catch, but your attention had already shifted to Jungkook, who was practically vibrating with excitement as he extended a tattooed hand toward you.

“Oh—yeah, of course! Pleased to meet you, ma’am.” He blurted, voice a little too eager.

You couldn’t help but smile as you shook his hand.

“Jungkook is a big fan, by the way,” Minnie added casually, completely unfazed by the way his face turned an alarming shade of red.

“Well, thanks. Pleased to meet you, too,” you said, amused. “Are you fixing the stage lights today, Jungkook?”

Jungkook froze for a second, his eyes widening slightly—stunned that you knew his name, as if he hadn’t just heard Minnie say it two seconds ago.

“Well—not me,” he managed to stammer. “I mean—yes! Me. And… Yoongi. He’s, uh, kind of the boss around here.”

Your smile didn’t drop, but you raised your eyebrows in surprise. You glance towards the ladder again, watching Yoongi descend like he had all the time in the world. You looked at him, and for the shortest of seconds, he looked at you too.

“Is he?” You asked, turning to your friend for some kind of explanation.

Minnie shook her head, don’t start, she wanted to say, but it was too late. You’ve already started.

“Just the boss of him, maybe.” appearing beside Jungkook and giving him a pat on the back maybe a little too hard.

Something burned inside your chest, but you were not supposed to be mad anymore. You were not supposed to be angry, you were supposed to be a functioning adult, a mature person who was able to let things go and act accordingly, but without fail, every time you were in front of him you felt like a kid throwing a tantrum all over again.

“I must’ve been gone for too long.” You said, nonchalantly. “I didn’t know you were the one calling the shots now.”

It was encrypted in your code, you weren’t used to biting your tongue, it was stronger than you. You told yourself you didn’t want anything to do with Yoongi, but you still desperately needed to know what was he doing here, what was that tied him to this place when he didn’t even know its name a few years ago.

The room suddenly fell silent and you knew it was your fault but you couldn’t find the will to regret it.

He locked eyes with you, there was a hard weight on his gaze, but it gave nothing away, like a locked door with no key, totally indecipherable.

“I’m not.” He simply said. If what you wanted was an explanation, you weren’t going to get it. “I’m just helping around.” His words hung in the air for a moment, met with a brief silence.

Minnie cleared her throat, interrupting the hostile staring competition you and Yoongi were having. “Yoongi and Jungkook are helping with the stage lights, but they are missing a few guys today.” She carefully mentioned, her eyes going from Yoongi to you and back. “So they are going to take more time than usual.”

“I can work in the other room, if you’d like.” You offered, looking at Jungkook.

“No!” Jungkook was quick to say “That won’t be necessary, I mean—we won’t be a problem at all.”

“Really?” You said “I mean, I could. What would the boss say?”

Yoongi turned to you then, and you could tell he knew exactly what you were doing. The corner of his mouth twitched, not quite a smirk, not quite a frown, just the ghost of something caught between amusement and exasperation.

He exhaled quietly, like he was reminding himself not to be annoyed, because it was you. “You know it’s okay.” He said, his voice smooth, but you caught the tiniest flicker in his eyes, that slight tension in his shoulders.

After all these years, that connection between you still remained, woven into the spaces between words, into the way you could read each other with nothing but a glance. You could still have silent conversation in crowded rooms just by looking at each other, it was not a surprise, but it pissed you off anyway.

“Let’s get to work, then,” You muttered, sharper than intended. You didn’t look at him, but you knew he’d heard everything you didn’t say.

Last week you wouldn’t have expected to end up right here, in the middle of the stage of The Alley as you were waiting for some sixteen year old to pitch you her story, and yet, you were there. The goal for today was almost too simple to fulfill, the only obstacle was that it required all the patience you knew you never had, but you were willing to try.

The sound of the door swinging open let you know that the day started. Suddenly, Minnie and a girl who you thought to be Harriet stepped into the room. You recognized who she was immediately, wrapped in a big baby blue puffer jacket, a long purple skirt brushing against her ankles and a red hat over her dark curls,—she was impossible to mistake.

Despite the bright color and the glowing description of her that Minnie gave you earlier, Harriet kept her eyes down as she listened to your friend speak beside her, only glancing up briefly when Yoongi and Jungkook greeted her. She mumbled a quick hello, then scanned the room—until her gaze landed on you.

Her shoulders tensed the moment her eyes met yours, but she didn’t hesitate. Adjusting the strap of her bag, she followed your friend as she walked towards the stage with steady steps.

“Well, hello girls.” You got down from your seat to greet her, offering a smile. “You must be Harriet.”

Harriet nodded. “Hi,” she said quickly, like it slipped out before she had time to overthink it.

“Harriet, this is your very cool, very last-minute new director slash teacher. Sweetie, this is your brilliant teen-playwright.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Brilliant, huh?”

Harriet gave Minnie a look. “You’re embarrassing me.”

Minnie rolled her eyes, as though she was used to this kind of teen behavior.

“I’m only telling the truth,” she huffed. “We all read the script.”

You turned your attention back to Harriet, smiling as you gestured towards the desk. “I read it too. Last night, actually. I hope you don’t mind that I’m a bit unprepared. I got the job yesterday.”

Harriet shook her head quickly. “Oh no, of course not. I mean—I wasn’t expecting anyone to take over. I thought we’d just… I don’t know, keep going until the roof collapsed.”

You let out a short laugh. “That still might happen.”

“I wouldn’t even be mad,” she said, tucking a curl behind her ear. “It’d be on theme.”

“C’mon, no roof is going to collapse today.” Minnie waved off. “We have the boys on our side.”

You took a quick look towards the back of the room, where Jungkook was halfway up the ladder, the screwdriver in one hand and a sandwich clamped between his teeth like a man with very specific priorities. Yoongi stood below, holding the toolbox open, glancing between the manual in his hand and the wires poking out of the wall. He looked focused, but the slight frown on his face gave away how confused he was.

“Well, that’s exactly why I’m afraid.” You reached for the script, handing it back to her. If the roof was going to collapse, or the electricity was going to cut out, it wasn’t going to be because of you. You were seventy percent sure of that. “I scribbled a bunch of notes in the margins like a true professional. We can talk through them during rehearsal.”

“Oh, I love margin notes.” She said, her eyes sparkling as she saw your handwriting on the pages. “Especially the brutally honest kind.”

“Oh, you’re gonna love me, then.”

Minnie perched on the edge of the stage, watching the two of you with a smug expression that screamed told you so without having to say a word. You still refused to see how you and the girl next to you were anything alike. At first glance, Harriet’s personality came through loud and clear—her clothes were colorful, her tone enthusiastic, and her writing nothing like yours had been back in the day. You used to dress in black from head to toe and only talked to people when absolutely necessary. The only thing you seemed to have in common was your love for this place.

“Minnie told me you’re like… a purebred Alley or something like that.” You joked, giving her a small grin. “It shows, I think.”

“Really?” she asked, her eyes catching the dim light of the barely functioning reflectors.

You nodded “You wrote about this place like someone who grew up here.” You said “It’s been a while since I’ve been around, but I can recognize it. It’s not something you make up.”

A small smile tugged at Harriet’s lips. “I didn’t have to make it up.”

“I could tell,” you said, glancing around. “I’m from… a completely different generation, but when I come back, I can tell that things are still the same.” Suddenly, a loud clang echoed through the room as a heavy tool hit the floor, making you flinch. You looked up to see Yoongi mouthing a dramatic “Sorry.”

Harriet laughed under her breath, shaking her head. “Well—maybe most things, at least,” you added, raising an eyebrow. “What I mean is that… It’s important to say that, right? The years passed but the place has the same heart.”

“That’s exactly what I wanted to say.” She nodded, like you just read her mind. “I know it’s all kind of falling apart,” she said, her eyes sweeping over the dim lights and creaky walls, “but it still feels like the only place that ever made sense.”

That made your heart clench. You had your chance to run away forever and you took it without thinking twice, but for people like Harriet, there only existed places like The Alley, and the idea that it could disappear was gut wrenching.

“I know.” You murmured, glancing at the seats in front of you, replaying memories you tried to forget so many times. “It’s like this place gets into your blood or something.”

There was a quiet beat, both of you sitting in that shared understanding.

Then Harriet added, voice a little softer, “That’s why I wrote it. The play, I mean. It was just… my way of trying to keep it alive. Even if it’s just a story.”

You glanced over at her, your fingers drumming lightly on the edge of the script. “You did more than that. You captured the heart of it. That’s not easy.”

Her cheeks flushed, but she held your gaze. “Thanks. That means a lot, coming from you.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Me?”

Harriet let out a soft, slightly nervous laugh. “Well, Minnie talks about you like you are linked to this place, but you know… like, you’re spiritually bonded or something. Everybody kind of knows that.”

You blinked. Not expecting that. Not at all.

Maybe you were. There was a time where you felt it more than ever, back when you spent your afternoons in this building instead of studying for exams you never cared about, back when the air smelled like incense and acrylic paint and some band played the same Beatles song over and over again in the other room, interrupting all your theater classes. The feeling clinging in your bones, your hand holding onto it like it was about to slip away.

But you left, more than once. First, you trade it for the chance of becoming someone else. You failed at that. Came back here, got your heart shattered and left again. And yet somehow, every time you drifted, The Alley stayed the same. Waiting.

You weren’t sure if that made you loyal or pathetic. Maybe both.

You didn’t come back for this place, you weren’t even thinking of stepping foot here. You came back because you had nowhere else to go, because you needed something familiar to put you up on your feet and snap out of everything. But maybe this place knew better than you did. Maybe it was always supposed to pull you home.

You sighed, feeling your chest tightened. “Like I said, it gets into your blood.” You sat back, holding the script in your hands. It was too early to think about all that. You tried to shake off all those thoughts, remembering why you were there in the first place. “But let’s not get dramatic, at least not more than necessary. I got tricked into directing your play.”

Harriet grinned. “Still counts.”

You let out a breath, shaking your head fondly as you flipped open the script again. There wasn’t time to sit in feelings. Not when you had a job to do.

“Alright,” you said, your tone shifting into something drier. “Let’s talk about the notes.”

“Yeah, right,” she said, nodding. “Shoot.”

There was a brief silence, just long enough for Harriet to hold her breath and for you to find the right page. The air shifted—calm, but expectant. “Your protagonist is stubborn as hell,” you said, not bothering to sugarcoat it. “Which I respect, totally. But the pacing in the second act drags.”

Harriet blinked. “I—I was trying to show her spiraling.”

“There are other ways to show her spiraling.” You tapped the script, flipping to your notes. “Don’t write her like she’s in a coma. You had her throwing punches in Act One, then suddenly she’s trying to hold back.”

Harriet frowned, thoughtful now. “Huh. Yeah. Okay. That makes sense.”

You caught Minnie smirking from the corner of your eye, clearly enjoying herself.

“For example,” you continued, pointing at a line, “this monologue? I liked it. She’s trying to save The Alley, she’s emotional and messy—she should stay that way the whole play, even if she’s overthinking. But in the next four pages, you wrote her like she’s afraid to raise her voice.”

“She’s not afraid,” Harriet said quickly. “She just—she masks it. Like she doesn’t want people to know how much she cares.”

You tilted your head. “Alright now, does she care or she does not? Let’s make up our minds.”

Minnie snorted.

Harriet looked around like she was hoping someone else might answer for her. Her pupils flicked nervously. “I guess… she does.”

“Exactly. So should she try to mask it?”

She bit her lip, then shook her head. “I guess she shouldn’t.”

“Okay, let’s keep her that way.” You nodded, flipping through the pages again. “Write the ugly. The parts that don’t fit into a speech. You’re sixteen, not a board of directors. Don’t try to be polite in art. You’ll bore people to death.”

Harriet nodded, eyes shining a little brighter now. “That’s really good advice.”

“Don’t get used to it,” you said, clicking your pen shut. “Most days I’m a bitch, that’s what I’ve heard of.”

You heard a squeaky sound coming from seats, catching both of your attentions. You tilted your head to look at your best friend, trying not to laugh too loud. You adjusted your reading glasses to look at her better. “Don’t you have work to do, Minnie?”

She smiled, not ashamed at all. “Yeah, I do, but this is more exciting.” She confessed “You two are opposite ends of the same storm. This should be fun.”

Your gaze drifted back to Harriet, and just for a second, you saw it—something in her that echoed back to you. Maybe you weren’t so different after all.

There was no need to point out that everyone in your life seemed to know exactly how to avoid setting you off. Like when you were a kid and Simon handed you the TV remote just before you started screaming, or when Ian knew the exact moment to agree with you in the middle of a discussion—right before your frown appeared. It was like an unspoken rule: when you were mad, hell broke loose. And Yoongi knew it better than anyone.

Which was probably why he’d barely said a word since the morning started.

The room wasn’t particularly big, but his presence, sticking to the far side like there was some invisible line between you, made it feel that way. You were focused on other things now, but the memories this room held were almost palpable and impossible to miss, at least to you. There, in the center of the room, stood the same two chairs you’d sat in when Yoongi invited you to the Christmas movie night. You couldn’t help but wonder if he felt the same. It was a twisted thought—one of those you’d buried long ago and forbidden from resurfacing—but this time, you couldn’t stop it. You couldn’t help but wonder if, when he looked at the seats or stepped onto the stage, when he walked through the hallway or passed the room next door, he caught even the faintest echo of the memory of his fingertips against your skin.

You knew it was silly, and there was no point in even thinking about it, but something sparked in your chest when you did.

You shook your head, annoyed with yourself. Thinking like that was dangerous. It didn’t matter. It was in the past. But still—how could he be here and not think of you?

You let out a heavy sigh, knowing you couldn’t do anything about it. Either way, he was here, and that was enough to keep your irritation on a slow burn.

Lucky for you, you had enough things to do to keep yourself entertained, it wasn’t long before your actual appointment arrived.

One by one, then in pairs, then all at once, exactly fourteen teenagers trickled into the room, dragging backpacks and half-eaten snacks, tossing jackets onto the backs of chairs like they owned the place. Within minutes, the room was a mess of voices and overlapping conversations.

You stayed seated at the desk Jungkook had kindly set up onstage so you could work more comfortably, going over notes in the script with Harriet and letting the noise build around you. You didn’t know exactly what Minnie had told them to get them to come back to rehearsals, but the fact that no one seemed to notice you yet led you to believe she hadn’t mentioned your name at all.

“Wait, is that—”

You didn’t look up right away, but you felt the shift in the room, the quiet whispers. Then, someone dropped their water bottle, the loud metallic sound echoing through the room.

Someone else whispered “No way,” in the most dramatic whisper known to man.

Harriet sighed beside you, muttering under her breath as she tried to contain her excitement “Here we go.”

You glance up from the script. “Are we all ready?” You asked, making a few of them share glances between each other, stunned. Setting the script down, you stood up from your seat. “Hi, by the way. I’m Y/N. Minnie’s friend.”

There was a short pause before the room exploded in whispers again.

“Wait, seriously?”

“That’s her?”

“Dude. She’s literally famous.”

“No way.”

You felt the weight of their stares all at once—curious, excited, wide-eyed. It wasn’t the worst kind of attention, but it still made your skin crawl a little.

You cleared your throat. “For those who don’t know me, I’m an actress. You might’ve seen me in one or two movies. Or—more recently—on the internet, for entirely different reasons. It’s been... a fun week.”

That got a few chuckles. Someone covered their mouth, like they weren’t sure if they were allowed to laugh.

“I grew up around here. Born and raised. Went to school a few blocks away, smoked my first cigarette in the park across the street—decided pretty fast that wasn’t for me.” You gave a small shrug. “I also used to take theater classes in this exact room. A long time ago... or maybe not that long ago. Honestly, it kind of feels like time never passed at all.”

Your eyes swept the space, a faint smirk tugging at your lips. “That’s how I met Minnie, actually. She’s been my best friend ever since.”

You leaned against the desk. “So when she asked if I could do her a favor and step in to help direct this thing, I said yes. Mostly because she’s annoyingly persuasive. But also… because I owe this place a lot.”

You rubbed the back of your neck. “So no, I’m not here to give some big inspirational speech or anything. I don’t want this to be more dramatic than it’s already gonna be. I heard it’s been kind of rough around here lately, and I wanted to help.”

You gave a small shrug. “I’ve always loved this place—and I’m guessing you do too. I know what it’s like to start with nothing. No time, no budget, too many opinions. I’ve been in this room. And hey, if we’re lucky, we might actually make something cool.”

You paused, the silence stretching just enough to make you aware of all the pair of eyes looking at you, expectantly, like they were waiting for you to say something to make all of this sense. God this was awkward. You hated introductions.

Just as you were about to move on, a boy sitting cross-legged near the corner raised his hand hesitantly.

“Uh—sorry. I was just wondering… is this, like, for a documentary or something?”

You blinked at him, caught off guard “A documentary?”

He shrugged. “I dunno. You’re famous, and now you’re here, so I thought maybe there were cameras or—like, a redemption arc thing?”

A few kids laughed nervously. You stared at him for a beat.

“Okay, first of all, if this is a redemption arc, someone forgot to write a better opening scene.” That got a few chuckles. “Second of all, there are no cameras. And there will not be cameras either, so if any of you leak behind-the-scenes footage of me yelling at the lighting cues, I will sue you.”

The room broke into laughter. The boy held up his hands in surrender.

Then, a girl piped up from the back. “So… you’re really staying?”

You looked around at their faces and let out a breath that felt more like a decision than an answer.

You nodded. “Yes. So stop asking before I change my mind.”

A beat passed.

Then you clapped your hands once. “Alright. Let’s do something terrible before it gets good.” You turned to Harriet and handed her the script. “You’re on book duty. Anyone needs a line, go to her.”

Harriet gave you a look like she was trying very hard not to smile.

Soon enough, the whole room was in chaos. Kids dragging chairs across the floor, bumping into each other, laughing too loud, slipping into exaggerated accents for no reason.

The cast had been picked, most of them by Harriet who ran the auditions just before everything turned into a mess a few weeks ago. They more or less knew the script, at least the parts they were in. It wasn’t a full read-through kind of day anyway. You were mostly blocking a few key scenes, trying to see who could remember their lines under pressure and who needed their cues whispered from behind a prop table.

Someone tried entering from the wrong side of the stage, again. Two kids were arguing about the new Wicked movie. A pair of best friends were giggling so hard in the background that you had to separate them like a school teacher.

You were trying to give notes in between all of it—shouting directions, answering five questions at once, adjusting someone's posture, trying not to lose your mind when the stage lights began flickering, or when the sound of the mic started to cut out.

You sighed, knowing that you were the one who agreed to work in the same room as Yoongi. And yet, here you were, one lighting fixture away from snapping.

Yoongi was still on that damn ladder, this time closer to the stage, adjusting wires like he had all the time in the world, tossing instructions down to Jungkook, who was elbow-deep in the breaker box near the exit. They weren’t trying to interrupt rehearsal—but they were interrupting rehearsal.

You and Harriet were talking to Theo and Poly, who’d been cast as Ethan—June’s best friend and love interest—and June herself. Theo hadn’t stopped asking questions about his character since rehearsal started, and Poly just stood there, frowning at each one of them.

“So,” Theo said, squinting at his script like it held ancient secrets, “is Ethan supposed to represent the building? Or is the building a metaphor for Ethan?”

Poly pursed her lips. “I don’t think that’s…”

You blinked. “Uh…”

Harriet jumped in before you could finish. “I think the building represents June, actually,” she said thoughtfully. “And everything inside it kind of symbolizes parts of her. Including Ethan.”

You nodded slowly, doing your best not to sound confused. “Yeah. That’s… exactly what I was going to say.”

“But what if Ethan is the building? Like, metaphorically. But also kind of spiritually.”

You paused, wondering how he came up with that thought at all. “Theo...”

He perked up like you were about to confirm his theory.

“You’re not a building,” you said, deadpan. “You’re just a boy who likes a girl who is a building. Emotionally.”

Harriet nodded, hoping everything was clearer now, but the frown on Theo’s face said otherwise. “How is she… a building?” He asked.

You opened your mouth to answer, but then, the harsh whine of a drill tore through the room, sharp enough to make a few kids flinch.

Your head snapped towards the back, where Yoongi was crouched by the lighting rig, focused on screwing something into a wooden panel. Oblivious. Or pretending to be.

You forced a smile, teeth clenched. “Love that for us,” you muttered.

Yoongi didn’t look up.

You reminded yourself that you agreed to work in the same room as him, but you still couldn’t find it in yourself not to complain.

He finally glanced over, one brow raised. “Just fixing the lights.”

“Sure,” you muttered, trying to regain control of the room. “Maybe next time, though, you could fix the sound system while you’re at it. You know, keep things interesting.”

The kids snickered nervously, clearly unsure whether to laugh or stay out of it.

Yoongi gave a small, unreadable smile, “That’s next.”

You blinked, then raised an eyebrow. “Great. Just give me a heads-up before you demolish the stage—we would love to watch the show.” You heard a couple kids laughing under their breaths, but Yoongi just smirked and came back to drilling. “Okay, where were we? Right, Theo, June is bonded with the building, they have many similarities...”

You managed to move on, with the help of Harriet, who tried to explain how June and The Alley had similar stories to everyone in the cast so she wouldn’t answer the same questions over and over again.

For a moment, it worked. The rehearsal went slow but chaotic, but it was nothing that you weren’t expecting. The line delivery was still bad, cues were missed and someone kept knocking over a prop chair no matter how many times you moved it out of the way. The sound glitched every now and then, cutting off halfway through a cue, making someone lose their timing, most probably Theo. The lights kept flickering, but you told yourself it was alright.

There was something about it that made your heart warm. The kids were messy, overly passionate, but they were trying, and that counted for something. Harriet hovered by your side, notebook in hand, whispering little adjustments to you between scenes. You corrected blocking, gave line notes and reassured Poly when she forgot her monologue. It was the kind of chaos that made your head hurt, but also reminded you why you were there.

And for a little while, you forgot about a certain demonic presence in the room. Almost.

Then, another interruption, but this time you couldn’t ignore it like you were planning to do. This time, it wasn’t the sound system or that annoying drilling sound, it was his voice.

“That panel shouldn’t be used,” he said from the back, voice deep and arms crossed as he nodded towards one of the wood panels the kids had dragged to the stage.

You turned around to see him, giving the most lethal look you could give to anyone. He didn’t flinch. “Why is that?” You asked, impatiently.

“It’s flagged and marked for disposal.” He explained, as he continued to work “If we use it and someone gets hurt, the insurance won’t cover it. That kind of negligence puts the theater at legal risk.”

You nodded, jaw tight, trying to remind yourself that he wasn’t doing this to be annoying—even if that was exactly how it felt. “Right. Thanks for the thrilling legal insight.”

“I am the lawyer here,” He said, like you could’ve possibly forgotten.

A few of the kids glanced between you, sensing the tension and trying very hard not to smile. Including Jungkook.

You gave him a smile. “Yes, and our part time set designer, noise machine, and safety police. We didn’t forget.”

He snorted. “Multitasking. You should try it sometime.”

Harriet let out a gasp and then covered her mouth, pretending to cough.

You clapped your hands. “Alright, listen up. We’re not using the panels, you heard our lawyer here. If you have any legal questions, I’m sure he’ll be happy to answer. Now come back to your positions before our legal team shut us down.”

You turned back to the stage, feeling your pulse in your ears. God, this was stupid. You couldn’t react this way every time he opened his mouth, you couldn’t let him get under your skin, not when he was not even trying.

You turned back to the stage, jaw tight. Let it go. He was right. Technically. And that was the worst part, he always had a way of being technically right. You should be used to it by now.

You didn’t have time for this. Not now.

Everyone kept going. You checked the time on your phone and realized there were only forty-five minutes left of class. After that, you could finally do what you actually came here to do: nothing, and you were genuinely excited about it.

You had your whole day planned: eat with your mom and Phil, take the longest nap imaginable, then wake up and lie in bed with Minnie’s cat until you got hungry enough to drag yourself up and find something to eat.

You thought nothing—not even Yoongi— could ruin it, even if he seemed to be trying really hard to do it.

But, as if he was on cue, his voice echoed through the stage like he was part of the cast himself.

“Okay, the scene was good, but still rough around the edges. We have time to fix it, don’t worry.” You said, turning to the cast “Poly, I liked the pauses, you have great timing. Just remember that she is not trying to hold back, she’s all-in from the start, speak louder next time.”

Poly hummed, eyes on her script as she quietly mouthed her lines again.

The room went quiet, ready to dive in into the scene again, when the heavy doors creaked open drawing everyone’s attention—everyone except you, whose attention was fixed on the man standing below the stage, who happened to open his mouth again.

“You know, technically, she couldn’t just file a petition like that without legal standing.” He said nonchalantly, making you snap your head towards him.

You paused, confused. “Wait, what?”

Being completely clueless that he wasn’t being welcomed by you, he tried to explain himself “She needs to be a leaseholder, or at least have legal representation,” He said. “If not, that whole scene about the petition is pretty off.”

You weren’t sure what he was doing now. Wasn’t there an unspoken agreement between you two? Some silent rule you both were supposed to obey whenever you happened to breathe the same air. Something along the lines of no talking, no staring, no getting too close.

At least, that was the rule you’ve been following for the past four years. You thought he understood that. You thought he felt it too.

You stared at him. “Is that… really the note you felt we needed right now?”

He shrugged, like this was just helpful feedback. “If the goal is to be convincing—”

“Right. Thank you. Because legal accuracy is something essential in community theater.”

Yoongi tilted his head, still annoyingly calm. “You’re the one who said it needed to feel real.”

You didn’t even try to smile. “Yeah. Emotionally. Not in a way that’s going to put people to sleep.”

He opened his mouth again, but you cut him off. “Unless you want to audition for Guy Who Shouts Legal Objections From the Back of the Room, maybe let me direct?”

He paused, his brows lifting ever so slightly. You weren’t sure if he was about to keep pushing or finally let it go.

“Sure. You’re in charge,” he said, backing off.

You already had a sharp retort loaded on your tongue before he even opened his mouth, but as your gaze drifted towards the seats, you caught sight of Minnie, who had just slipped into the theater.

She was staring straight at you, arms crossed and eyebrows raised in that quiet, deadly way of hers. Okay, you got it, that was it. You decided to save it for now.

It was always safest to assume that every man who had ever lived knew the first universal rule of a girl’s handbook: best friends told each other everything.

You were surprised when you came across men who didn’t know about it—like when you had a fight with Ian, and he would get annoyed when you ran to tell Minnie everything about it. Minnie would laugh and say that it was his fault for thinking that you would keep a secret from the person who has been your only confidant for most of your life.

Thinking about it now, Minnie was a nightmare to have as your girlfriend’s best friend. She wanted to know everything, every single detail, every word exactly as it was spoken, as if she had been in the room when you fought with your boyfriend. And you were probably a nightmare to have as a girlfriend, too, because you told her everything.

It was the first rule in a girl’s handbook: best friends told each other everything. As class came to an end and the room filled with overlapping voices, kids repeating lines as they hopped off the stage and chairs being dragged noisily back into place, you glanced at Yoongi, his hair a mess and hands still smudged with dust, and wondered if he’d ever heard of that rule. If not, Minnie made sure he did by the end of the morning.

She stayed to watch the end of the class, saying goodbye to every single kid as they left. When the door closed behind the last of them, the room suddenly fell silent, the only sounds were the distant voices of Yoongi and Jungkook, and Minnie’s steady step as she made her way towards you.

You were zipping up your backpack when she spoke.

“You,” she said, making you look up. “And you.”

She pointed at you, then at the man standing in the back of the room.

“Mind joining me in my office?” she said, voice calm, but carrying enough weight to make it clear it wasn’t really a question. For a second, you and Yoongi exchanged glances, like two kids getting caught sharing notes in the middle of class.

God, it was your first day and you already screwed it up. You couldn’t even blame it on someone else.

Yoongi exhaled slowly, and you could already feel the tension in your shoulders returning. You threw a quick, weary glance at him before following Minnie’s lead.

You walked towards the office, Yoongi trailing behind you. The building was quieter now, the murmur of the rehearsal fading into the distance. Once inside, Minnie closed the door behind you.

You searched your best friend’s eyes for a moment, looking for some kind of reassurance—but she didn’t look at you. She didn’t seem angry, not exactly, but she wasn’t happy either. Honestly, she had every right not to be. You could admit that much, at least.

“Okay, can you, uh… explain what that was?” she asked, settling into the chair in front of you. Neither of you knew what the right move was, but apparently, standing there looking dumb was it. Minnie shook her head, already regretting the question. “Actually, no. Don’t even bother. I already know.”

You gulped, suddenly nervous. You definitely weren’t expecting to get scolded by your best friend today.

“Okay, I don’t know how to say this the right way.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “I’m well aware the two of you aren’t exactly on speaking terms. But I did think you could be in the same room without trying to rip each other’s throats out.” She looked up at you then, gaze soft but pointed. “You promised me you had no problem with him being around here.”

You felt your face heat up immediately. Your eyes widened just a little. “Minnie, I—”

“And you.” She interrupted, pointing at the man standing beside you with crossed arms. “I certainly wasn’t expecting you to behave like another teenager, Yoongi.”

Yoongi shifted his weight. You didn’t look at him, but you could hear the quiet sigh before he tried to speak.

“Minnie…” He started, voice low.

“Sorry. I’m not in the mood to hear any of this.” She raised a hand, cutting him off before he could go further. “I don’t care who started it, or what the hell it was even about. Whatever happened between the two of you in the past is none of my business. In fact—” She gestured vaguely toward the hallway. “Kill each other off if you must. But do it in the parking lot, or the park across the street. Not here. Not in front of the kids.”

Silence followed.

You stood still, realizing it was the first time someone had brought up what happened between you and Yoongi in a very long time. And it made your skin crawl.

Yoongi stayed quiet too. You could feel his presence beside you, the way he slightly shifted, the sound of his fingers tapping once against his arm. It wasn’t much, but it told you he was biting something back.

Minnie let out a long sigh and dropped into her chair again. For a moment, the only sound was the faint creak of the seat and the tension still thick in the room.

Then her voice softened.

“Listen, I don’t want to be a dick,” she muttered, rubbing her forehead. “If I could put you in separate rooms so you never had to see each other again, I would. Gladly.”

She looked between you, then leaned forward a little.

“But Yoongi’s working on the theater for the next month. So are you. Unless we want this place to burn to the ground before December, you’re gonna have to see each other. Even on weekdays. Even when it sucks.”

She exhaled “I’ve got a lot of shit going on right now, so can we please—please, pretty please, just try to get along? For the sake of this place and my mental health?”

You shifted your weight, arms crossed loosely in front of you as you stared at the floor. Minnie's words weren’t wrong. In fact, they hit a little too close to the truth.

“Yeah,” you said finally, your voice quiet but steady. “Okay.”

It was the best you could do without sounding defensive. Or worse, emotional.

You didn’t dare look at Yoongi. Just the idea of meeting his eyes in that moment made your stomach turn, but you heard him humming in response, quietly agreeing, too.

“Good,” Minnie said, still firm but less sharp now. “Because I can’t babysit you two. I’ve already got a dozen kids to look after. Don’t make me regret trusting you with this.”

You both nodded, like students after detention. You glanced at Yoongi—brief, instinctive—and to your surprise, he didn’t look back either.

Minnie waved a hand toward the door with a final sigh.

“Alright. Go.”

You mumbled a quiet goodbye and turned around, being the first to leave. Your steps were quick, almost impatient, as if putting distance between you and that office might somehow erase the last five minutes from existence.

You gripped the strap of your bag tighter, nails digging into the fabric. Once you were past the main doors, you shut your eyes for a moment and exhaled sharply.

God, you felt like such a fool.

You were supposed to be past this. Supposed to be past him. Why couldn’t you just ignore him? Why was he so impossible to avoid?

You shook your head and started walking again, hoping it might clear your thoughts. But the images from two minutes ago clung stubbornly inside of your mind, replaying in loop.

Then, you felt it. A hand brushing your shoulder.

You flinched and turned around, pulse jumping.

Yoongi stood there. Of course he did.

You hadn’t even noticed he’d followed you out.

With dirty clothes, dirty hands and hair all messy, he searched for your eyes, soft but filled with concern, biting his lower lip before speaking. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I don’t want you to leave yet.”

You blinked, confused. “What?”

“Please…” he said, his voice low and hesitant. “Let’s talk.”

It wasn’t the words so much as the way he said them—quiet, and so soft it made your heart clench.

You glanced around, suddenly aware of where you were. It was the same place you were that December night four years ago when you were waiting in line to watch the movie, cold and nervous and stupidly in love.

You crossed your arms, swallowing the memory like a pill. “I’m not sure I want to talk right now.” Or ever.

Yoongi didn’t flinch. He flexed his jaw a little, and nodded because he knew you were right. “Yeah,” he said, eyes dropping to the pavement for a second. “I figured.”

The wind tugged at both your clothes, making him shiver, he wasn’t wearing a coat, just that smudged white t-shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. There, in the early afternoon sunlight, you had the chance to look at him, to really look at him after four long years. You hadn’t realized how much he’d changed, how much longer his hair was now, how he only wore one pair of earrings, how his lips looked slightly pinker. He looked older, of course he did. The years had passed, and he couldn’t help but change. He didn’t look like a boy anymore, but like a man—and for some reason, that hurt

He dragged a hand through his hair, sighing. “It’s just… I want to fix this. Not now, if that’s not what you want. But eventually. Just… let me try.”

You stared at him, unsure if you wanted to laugh or scream. “How?”

He let out a breathy, half-laugh, frustrated. “Honestly? I have no fucking idea. But I’ll think of something.”

You gave him a bitter little scoff.

“I’m serious,” he said, stepping forward just slightly, but not too close. “I will.”

“I’ll need something better than that, Yoongi.”

“I know,” he said, voice low. “I do.”

He hesitated, glancing away for a moment. Then he scratched the back of his neck, a little unsure, a little boyish in the most disarming way. “My mom… she asked me to invite you to dinner one of these days. What if we start there?”

You narrowed your eyes. “Using your mom is cheating.”

That actually got a real smile out of him. Soft and crooked, it made your stomach turn. “I know that too.”

God, you hated how easy it was to remember what that smile did to you.

And yet, somehow, you also knew you were about to say yes.

You hesitated, your fingers fidgeting with the strap of your bag, eyes fixed on a crack in the pavement like it held the answer you couldn’t find inside yourself. Just say no. Walk away. But the words never came.

You sighed, voice low and reluctant. “God, Yoongi… if you piss me off, I swear—”

“I’ll try not to,” he said quickly, biting back a smile.

You gave him a look over your shoulder, narrowing your eyes. “That doesn’t sound very promising.”

But still—you were already walking.

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mordredpendragon · 3 months ago

Text

SIR MORDRED, The Traitor: A Masterpost

“Know that he will be born the first day of May in the kingdom of Logres.” ⸺ Post Vulgate

In celebration of Mordred's birthday, here's a compilation of all things Mordred!

Majority of these links are supplied by the @arthurianpreservationproject 💕 Would just like to shoutout @queer-ragnelle and @tboymordred for the help in making this! As well as many of my beloved friends and mutuals for their extended support. I put a whole lot of time and effort into this post, so to anyone reading this, I hope it will be of use to you in some way.

I would just like to preface that while I do try to be as thorough as possible, this is by no means an exhaustive list of every single Mordred appearance that exists. That would be impossible. Consider this moreso a curated list of based on what I have seen and what has been available to me thus far, so this will be updated as I go along.

There's a myriad of things I elected not to include for numerous reasons, so the media and literature I have chosen are ones that I think would be of interest for someone seeking out Mordred content specifically.

EDIT: After the scare I got for having my account terminated, I decided to make a Google Doc version of this masterpost in case anything happens again. The gdoc and this post will be updated at the same time whenever I have any new additions, which will be marked as ‼️

Last updated: 31/5/2025

Medieval Texts

Exhibit A

British History and The Welsh Annals by Nennius (Latin)

⭐The History of the Kings of Britain by Geoffrey of Monmouth (Latin)

⭐The History of Scotland by Hector Boece (Latin)

⭐Chronica Gentis Scotorum by John of Fordun (Latin)

The Dream of Rhonabwy (Welsh)

The Welsh Triads (Welsh)

⭐Lancelot-Grail Vulgate Cycle (French)

Post-Vulgate (French)

Merlin and the Grail by Robert de Boron (French)

⭐Roman de Brut by Wace (French)

⭐Layamon's Brut (Middle English)

Stanzaic Morte Arthure (Middle English)

⭐Alliterative Morte Arthure (Middle English)

Le Morte d'Arthur by Thomas Malory (Middle English)

Mort Artu (Middle English)

La Tavola Ritonda (Italian)

These are the texts translated into English that I'm aware of where Mordred is a central character or plays a significant role. Out of all of these, I personally recommend Alliterative Morte Arthure, Layamon's Brut, and Vulgate the most. In these texts Mordred is given a surprising amount of complexity and nuance, especially in Alliterative Morte Arthure. He even gets a sick title, Mordred the Malebranche/Evil-Arm. Below in the essays section there's plenty of literature analyzing and discussing it, which I suggest you go take a read if you're curious. His characterization in Vulgate is also one of my top favorites and is also incredibly in-depth, especially prior to his rebellion. He was described as having been "kind and compassionate" at the start of his career as a knight, only for him to spiral after finding out his true heritage.

The Scottish Chronicles (such as the accounts written by John of Fodrun and Hector Boece, although there are more of them not listed.) are also fascinating since they talks about how Arthur is actually illegitmate and Mordred is the rightful ruler all along. While Fodrun speaks well of Arthur as an admirable king, Boece is biased against him in favor of Mordred/Modredus.

Exhibit B

⭐Perceval + Continuations (French)

I put this text in an entirely separate section purely because Mordred is just a side character here, but I think it's worth looking into if you like Mordred. In the Perceval Continuations, particularly the 2nd, 3rd, and 4th Continuations, he is primarily shown as an antagonist for Percival. They have an intense duel where Mordred loses and begs Percival for mercy, to which he then sends him off to Arthur's court as his prisoner. Admittedly, I am biased 🌈 but Mordred shows up more often than you'd expect. The tone is moreso lighthearted and humorous with his rebellion against Arthur seemingly absent in it.

Retellings

I'm working on this in a time crunch so not everything has commentary (might update it when I feel like it lol) All my favorites and ones I consider must-reads/watches are listed with a star⭐ That being said, enjoy!

Novels

part I (Main Character)

⭐The Wicked Day by Mary Stewart

⭐A Camelot Triptych by Norris J. Lacy

⭐Idylls of the Queen by Phyllis Ann Karr

Queen's Knight by Marvin Barowsky (cw: pedarasty)

The Book of Mordred + The Last Knight of Albion by Peter Hanratty

part II (Secondary Character)

Arthur The Bear of Britain by Edward Frankland

The Eagles Have Flown by Henry Treece

The Great Captains by Henry Treece

The Green Man by Henry Treece

Poetry

The Song of the Four Knights by Ernest Rhys

The Fight at Camlann by John Masefield

⭐Modred: A Fragment by Edwin Arlington Robinson

The Death of King Arthur by Your Loving Granny

King Arthur's Death by M.G Lewis

Plays

⭐Mordred: A Tragedy by Henry Newbolt

King Arthur by J. Comyns Carr

The Misfortunes of Arthur by Thomas Hughes

Guenevere: A Play in Five Acts by Stark Young

Short Stories

⭐Mordred and the Green Knight by Phyllis Ann Karr

Night Mare by Chelsea Quinn Yaribo

Told by the Moonlight by Darrel Schweitzer

Films and TV

Films

⭐Knights of the Round Table (1953) dir. by Richard Thorpe, played by Stanley Baker

Sword of Lancelot (1963) dir. by Cornel Wilde, played by Michael Meacham

Camelot (1967) dir. by Joshua Logan, played by David Hemmings

Unidentified Flying Oddball (1979) dir. by Russ Mayberry, played by Jim Dale

⭐Excalibur (1981) dir. by John Boorman, played by Robert Addie (adult) and Charley Boorman (child)

⭐Morte d'Arthur (1984) dir. by Gillian Lynne, played by Nickolas Grace

⭐Knightriders (1981) dir. by George A. Romero, played by Tom Savini (technically his name is Morgan here but he's basically just Mordred.)

⭐New Adventures of a Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court (1988) dir. by Viktor Gres, played by Mark Gres

Camelot (1998)

King Arthur Excalibur Rising (2017) dir. Antony Smith, played by Gavin Swift

Arthur & Merlin Knights of Camelot (2020) dir. Giles Alderson, played by Joel Phillimore

Everything listed with a ⭐ are genuinely some of my top ever favorite portrayals of Mordred. Absolute must-watch. 80's Arthuriana is life changing.

Adventures of Sir Galahad (1949) uncredited for whatever reason :/ if anyone knows who his actor is please let me know!

⭐BBC Legend of King Arthur (1979) played by Steve Hodson

⭐Merlin (1998) played by Jason Done

BBC Merlin (2008-2012) played by Alexander Vlahos (adult), Asa Butterfield (child)

Other

Music

⭐Mordred's Song by Blind Guardian

Mordred's Song by Grave Digger

Mordred's Lullaby by Heather Dale

Crashing Down by Heather Dale

War Between Brothers by Heather Dale

⭐Seven Deadly Virtues from Camelot (Musical)

Demon Down by Gary Hughes ft. Doogie White

The Hard Way by Gary Hughes ft. Doogie White

Peacemaker by The Mechanisms

Skin and Bone by The Mechanisms

TTRPG's

I, Mordred: The Fall & Rise of Camelot

Fair warning that I reccomend this with HUGE caveats as this contains violent misogyny, racism, and homophobia. If you like Gareth please look away because he sucks in this. That being said, Mordred is very much intended to be the hero you root for and he's so dreamy. He's described as pure of heart. He seems cold, but is warm to those he's close to. He has war dogs and they're all named after the 7 virtues. In a dark, bleak and gritty fantasy setting, Mordred is a shining beacon. It's adorable. I haven't played this myself, only read through the entire booklet but there's a lot of cool concepts and story beats that you can definitely expound upon yourself. Even the less savory elements, especially the misogyny and racism, can honestly just be ignored by the GM.

Video Games

King Arthur: Knight's Tale

I haven't played this so I can't tell you much about it, but it's a turn-based strategy game where Mordred is the main playable character and it's set in Post-Camlann.

Resources and Essays

Books

The New Arthurian Encyclopedia by Norris J. Lacy

The Arthurian Material in the Chronicles Especially Those of Great Britain and France by Robert Huntington Fletcher

The Arthurian Way of Death: The English Tradition edited by Karen Cherewatuk & K.S Whetter

Essays

⭐Mordred: Heroes and Anti-Heroes in Medieval Romance by Judith Weiss

⭐Arthur, Mordred, and Tragedy in the Alliterative "Morte Arthure" by Gillian Adler

Friendly Fire: The Disastrous Politics of Friendship in the Alliterative "Morte Arthure" by Christine Chism

Re-presenting Mordred: Three Plays of 1895 by Pamela Yee

⭐Mordred's Lost Childhood by Elizabeth Archibald

The Sword and the Scepter: Mordred, Arthur, and the Dual Roles of Kingship in the Alliterative "Morte Arthure" by Steven P.W Bruso

⭐Who Was King Arthur’s Sir Modred? by Andrew Breeze

#sir mordred #mordred #arthuriana #arthurian mythology #arthurian legend #arthurian legends #knights of the round table #reading list #masterpost #happy maydred! 💕#maydred #maydred 2025 #cain's recs

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foolishlovers · 7 months ago

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With 2024 coming to an end, I just wanted to give a quick shout-out to my favourite fics I (re)read this year. I have so so much appreciation for all writers creating beautiful works about our beloved angel and demon pair. Reading these sometimes funny, sometimes heartbreaking, sometimes sappy, sometimes deliciously filthy stories has been a constant source of joy. I truly can't even begin to describe how thankful I am to be part of such an incredibly creative and loving fandom. So so much gratitude for all the different versions of them, all the genders, all the tropes, all the canon fics, and all the human AUs. There are so many more amazing fics I read this year and there are so many more to explore in 2025, but the following few have made themselves a home in my heart. I promise they're worth a read! 💜 [I do fic recs all year long, check out this tag for more.]

Date by @ddagent (2.5k, T)

Every year, Aziraphale is spoiled on his birthday. This year, he decides to do the same for Crowley. There's only one problem - he's not actually sure when Crowley's birthday is.

Roller Derby Queen by @summerofspock (2.5k, M)

Crowley skates for Hell on Wheels and she's pretty good at it too. She'd be better if she weren't so distracted by the new skater on the opposing team.

Sweet Nectar of the Eldritch Gods by @brenna (3.2k, G)

Azira writes a letter to the purveyor of her favorite honeys and sweetness ensues. No offence, but who says “by the by,” by the way? It’s adorable? By the by, do you like wine? Crowley

Poor Men by @why-not-go-with-style (3.9k, G)

What To Do When Two of Your Professors Are Hopelessly in Love With Each Other: an instruction manual by Adam Young (featuring Pepper Moonchild because someone has to be the voice of reason here).

!False (It's Funny Because It's True) by @mirjam-writes (6.4k, E)

Aziraphale drew a long breath through his nose. Crowley, of course it had to be Crowley. The new guy in the sales department, who would promise potential customers just about anything to close a deal. Arrogant, annoying – and wildly, stupidly attractive. Aziraphale hated him. Aziraphale is a stellar software architect and a project manager, who is so done with the sales department selling unrealistically scheduled and budgeted projects. And he definitely doesn't have a crush on anyone, thank you very much.

Show me where the Nightingale sings by @sabotage-on-mercury (6.5k, G)

After settling into their new home in the South Downs there are still things to process for Aziraphale and Crowley before they can start a new chapter of their life. But winter is turning into spring. There is magic abroad in the air. And finally, the nightingale is back.

The Art of Human Nature by @ineffable-doll (6.5k, T)

Crowley is a painter who has only ever had an eye for nature. That is, until a client named Aziraphale commissions her for a painting to boost her self-confidence, and Crowley discovers that her client is as beautiful as the Earth itself. Then she goes and catches feelings, because she’s a disaster.

Lit by @fellshish (12k, T)

Crowley takes a university course on literature and surprise! The book they’re discussing is Good Omens. Uh oh.

Paradigm Shift by @hakunahistata (13k, E)

“Apologies, apologies! The time got away from me.” Aziraphale Fell entered the room brightly, a binder in one hand, tea mug in the other. Crowley’s languid sprawl went rigid as the senior accounting analyst who had been the indulgent secret in the back of his mind took the seat opposite him. Or, Crowley Pines at the Office: An AU.

Feast by @ashfae, mostlyjustgoose (15k, E)

Crowley's spent the whole of lockdown asleep. Aziraphale has spent the whole of lockdown baking, cooking, and becoming increasingly frustrated with his solitude. Which eventually leads him to the perfect way to solve all his problems at once... Or, Aziraphale attempts to seduce Crowley with a truly excellent meal, and Crowley is amenable.

Ever-Fixed by @hkblack (19k, E)

Aziraphale Fell had a plan. Go to school, get his degree, and start his life with his beloved at his side as man and wife. Until one day Crowley disappears. Decades later he meets a man, and finds the love of his life again. Anthony J. Crowley, suave, cool, masculine, in control, unflappable, has spent decades building himself up. He refuses to let his confident facade disappear for Aziraphale, who once almost tumbled down the stairs to certain death because his nose was stuck in a book. It’s just sex, and they’ve been dating for months, this time around. There’s no need to get his knickers in a knot. But the past isn’t easy to let go of, even if you’re both avoiding it. A story about love, intimacy, and finding each other again. (Alternatively: Tender smut, but then I wrote love story flashbacks, and now it's just emotional and there's plot in my pornography)

Fireworks by @optimistic-starlight (19k, E)

He had to get himself under control. Aziraphale needed him. That prick boyfriend of his drained so much of Aziraphale's time and energy, dampened so much of the gentle, beaming happiness that Crowley had always adored about him. He needed Crowley there to support him, to do the things a best friend should be there to do. And, well, if Crowley needed him too, if he had to subsume his own pain to focus on making Aziraphale happy, that was something he could bear quietly. He could do it for his angel. Crowley groaned and dropped his head against the tiled wall of the shower. His angel. He had to stop thinking of him like that.

Maybe Next Christmas by @flamingbentleyy (21k, T)

Airports were tricky business, but waiting in airports was as close to hell as one could possibly get. Nobody knew it better than Aziraphale, whose luck had made him end up in one right on Christmas Eve of all days. Although his airport experience turned a little less hellish and a whole lot more entertaining after he ran into an old college friend in that same airport. And then again. And again…

The Small Ad by @theladydrgn, @sylwritesstuff (32k, E)

WORK WANTED: Partner For Hire. Tall, lanky ginger of arguable gender available to be your significant other to keep pesky relatives, nosy coworkers, or well-meaning friends at bay. Able to be as annoying or as polite as you like. Causing a fight over Christmas dinner with your odd, bigoted uncle/aunt/cousin will require an extra £200 up front. £50 for the first hour, negotiable otherwise. Ciao. It isn't the sort of advertisement Aziraphale usually paid any attention to, but desperate times do indeed call for desperate measures.

Heavenly Wicked Cafe by @waitingtobebroken (33k, T)

There is a terribly rude barista that makes amazing coffee and a saint of a barista, whose coffee tastes vile. And they are in love.

Petrichor & Parchment by @katnoggin (33k, E)

“Mr. Crowley, I presume?” Aziraphale asked in lieu of an introduction, which was not forthcoming. The guy hadn’t even removed his sunglasses. Oh God, he had a tattoo on his face. Aziraphale wasn’t one to judge, but… what kind of gardener had a snake tattoo on his face? Now also available as a podfic from Literarion [Huuuge recommendation for the podfic!!]

The Heart of the Forest by Kalimyre (33k, E)

Retired librarian Aziraphale moves into a small, isolated cottage deep in the forest with a strange history. He soon realises he's not alone in the woods; a presence watches him. But as he begins to befriend the stranger that lurks in the trees, Aziraphale comes to understand there's more to him than appearances suggest - and Aziraphale's own destiny may be tied to the mysterious creature with the golden eyes.

in your own time by @ineffabildaddy (33k, E)

Aziraphale and Crowley grew up together as next-door neighbours on Hogback Lane, classmates at the local Catholic school, and inseparable best friends. By the age of eighteen, both were hopelessly in love with the other, despite the knowledge that they were doomed to live apart, as Crowley aimed to pursue university study in London and Aziraphale committed himself to remaining in Tadfield, dedicating his life to the Church. After almost twenty years spent away from his hometown, renowned botanist Crowley decides to come and visit Tadfield again at a moment's notice; the purpose of his visit is to speak at a Careers Day for the school he and Aziraphale, now a beloved priest and a frequent helper at the school, attended. The twenty-four hours that follow will change both of their lives for ever.

Between Comfort And Chaos by anathxmadevice (45k, T)

“And how long have you two been a couple?” “Oh, I—” Aziraphale panics. “Ha, well, that’s a funny… We’re not actually—” “We’re just friends.” Crowley says, their voice clear and calm and lightly amused, either because of or in spite of Aziraphale’s flailing attempts to divert the conversation. “Ah, yes, quite.” Aziraphale says, then takes a sip of his drink just for something to do, instead of focussing on the way Crowley said just friends, and how it causes a painful throb in his chest that he has never fully got used to. His memory can only scrabble at the edge of a time where being just friends with Crowley didn’t feel like a particular form of torture. * Or, Aziraphale has been desperately in love with his best friend and housemate Crowley since they were students, but is too scared to do anything about it.

Loving You Slow by @tawnyontumblr (46k, E)

Crowley just wants to dance, but he's not prepared to sell his soul (and other things) at Mayfair's Hellfire Club to do it. Tending bar at The Bookshop in Soho is just the escape he needs, providing Crowley can convince the club’s owner he really belongs on the stage. Unfortunately Aziraphale Eastgate is not quite the generous guardian angel Crowley has been led to believe. Welcome to The Bookshop, where it always pays to look under the covers.

A Billion Points of Light by akitsuko (50k, E)

The firefighter lifts the visor on their helmet, and Crowley may not be able to see very well, but those are the most beautiful eyes he’s ever seen in his life. Crowley has never been one for the whole 'love at first sight' business, but he may need to reassess after Aziraphale - a gorgeous firefighter - saves his life.

More Than by @naromoreau (55k, E)

Crowley would like to spend another year without marrying, especially when thrust-forced to pick a husband. She refuses to cave in on a matter of principles. She refuses to cave in specifically on a matter of not wanting to be married to Lucien Morningstar. But she might need a hand to break free from such a burden. And who knows? She might even find something else along the way.

Lavender Apiary Of Your Honey Eyes by @snek-of-eden (66k, E)

The first thing Aziraphale registered was fiery red hair matted with sweat. The second thing was the man’s face, sharp and intelligent and a little guarded, sunlight dappling a spray of freckles. Upon seeing this, two contradictory thoughts crossed his mind: ‘Gosh, he’s pretty’, and ‘I don’t believe I’ve ever heard a man use that many expletives in the space of a minute’. “Oh,” he said, swallowing hard. “Hello, then.” __________ When Aziraphale inherits a small, cosy cottage in the countryside, he finds unexpected company in a gardener he didn't even know he had. Crowley is sweet, and strange, and about as foul-mouthed as you can get. Before he knows it, he's falling pretty goddamn hard for a man whose friendship he's terrified of risking. Ah, the foils of love.

Old Vines by @sevdrag (189k, E)

A.Z. Fell, one of the most respected names in wine and food blogging, has been sent on assignment with his assistant Warlock Dowling to spend six months in California Wine Country. Under direction (by his boss, Gabriel) to use this experience to double his blog followers and write a novel, Aziraphale is both excited and anxious about the opportunity. Anthony J. Crowley is the owner and viticulturalist of Ecdyses, a winery that unexpectedly fell into his lap eleven years ago when he hit rock bottom. He may be in debt, yeah, but he’s paying off his loans — and despite pressure from his lenders and their team of inspectors, Crowley has found a kind of contentment tending his little corner of terroir and producing extraordinary wine. Crowley’s old vines are the heart of his vineyard, and he’s never let anyone in. Crowley finds Aziraphale intriguing; Aziraphale finds Crowley enthralling. Turns out a famous wine expert and an experienced viticulturalist can still learn things from each other. The summer of 2019 unfolds. [Big recommendation for the podfic here too!!]

#100% sure there r so many i missed and there are def many more by these writers that i adored as well but i chose to stick to one per autho #anyway!! thank u all <3 #good omens #good omens fanfiction #good omens human au #aziracrow fic #crowley x aziraphale #ineffable husbands #ineffable wives #foolish recs #go fic masterpost

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timesorceror · 6 months ago

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So I started this rec list sometime in mid to late 2024 after listening to @thisweekinfandomhistory's episode on the Crack Van, where one of the hosts commented (and I'm most definitely probably paraphrasing here) about how rec lists are something of a lost art.

This, combined with my burning desire to write a primer on Dreamling (in the hopes it could perhaps one day get covered on the pod) was what pushed me to start going through my 30-something pages of bookmarks (of which those occupy slightly more than a third of my total pages of bookmarks) and start categorizing them in preparation for this list.

Sorry about all the parentheses; I've very likely got some rather loud undiagnosed ADHD and cannot for the life of me keep my brain from interjecting with every single bit of information, relevant or otherwise. But, I digress.

There are ten posts included in this monster of a fic rec masterpost, and they are divided between Oneshots, Multi-Chaptered Fics, and Series. The reason for the divide is simple: Tumblr only allows 100 inline links per post, as I also learned from listening to the lovely ladies of the This Week in Fandom History Podcast.

The rec list posts are below the cut, along with a link to my masterpost Google Doc, an explanation as to the method behind my madness, among other things.

Oneshots - Part One Contains: Alternate Universe, Angst with a Happy Ending, Crossover

Oneshots - Part Two Contains: Fluff / Happy Ending, Fishbowl Rescue, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, New Inn Is A Temple

Oneshots - Part Three (NSFW) Contains: Accidental Vouyerism, Age Difference, BDSM, College / University AU, Centaur AU, Dragon AU, Dream Sex, Fantasy AU, First Time / First Kiss / Getting Together / Friends to Lovers, Fluff / Smut

Oneshots - Part Four (NSFW) Contains: Fishbowl Rescue, Hurt/Comfort, Medieval AU, MPreg / Breeding Kink, Nursing Kink, Omegaverse, Oviposition, Pacific Rim AU, Period Sex, Retired Dream of the Endless, Selkie AU, Sex Pollen, Shapeshifting, Star Wars AU, Stuck in An Airport AU, Soulmates / Soul Bond, Temporary Amnesia, Tentacle Sex, Touch-Starved Dream of the Endless, Venom AU, Werewolf AU

Oneshots - Part Five Contains: Soulmate AU (No Smut), Touch-Starved Dream of the Endless

Multi-Chapter - Part One Contains: Alternate Universe, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Study, Crossover, Fishbowl Rescue, Fluff, Friends / Enemies to Lovers, Getting Together

Multi-Chapter - Part Two (NSFW) Contains: Angst with a Happy Ending, Body Swap, Canon Divergence AU, College / University / Academia AU, Creatures & Monsters AU, Dragons AU, Dream Sex, Established Relationship, Fairy Tale AU, Fantasy AU, Fishbowl Rescue / Hob Gadling Saves Dream of the Endless, Friends to Lovers, Fuck Or Die, Getting Together, Historical AU, Hob Gadling is Hope of the Endless, Hob Gadling Owns the New Inn

Multi-Chapter - Part Three (NSFW) Contains: Hurt/Comfort, Medieval AU, Modern Setting / Human AU, Monsterfucking, Omegaverse, Past Relationship(s), Period Sex, Retired Dream of the Endless, Roommates, Sex Pollen, Soulmates AU, Temporary Amnesia, The New Inn is a Temple, Touch-Starved Dream of the Endless, Vampire AU, Victorian AU, Werewolf AU

There will likely not be any more posts added to this, given the nature of how Tumblr posts work, but as I am still in the middle of my second run-though of the Dreamling ship tag's entire body of completed works, I will continue to update this Google Doc as I go (and whenever I comb through my Marked for Later tab and go through fics that are still there as well) that you may view at your leisure.

Note: this Google Doc is my personal fic rec list, and is not the be-all, end-all of Dreamling fics, despite how expansive it is. If there is a fic I have not added, it's very likely I did not read it because of a tag I'm not into (like Hurt No Comfort), or I read it and didn't bookmark it because I felt like I wasn't going to read it more than once. Or any other number of reasons, such as incomplete fics, which I rarely read these days unless it's a tag that I absolutely go feral for.

So don't DM me asking to add specific fics, please. Thanks. :)

I would like to explain that the Google Doc uses the tab function to separate the Oneshots, Multi-Chaptered Fics, and Series, and within each tab, they are further divided using the outline function.

The way I chose to organize the Oneshots and Multi-Chaptered fics was to start by thinking of this rec list as sort of like a menu at a restaurant by picking a main tag that I feel is the focus of the fic, and then further organize them by a sub-catagory tag (for example, I have Moorishflower's fic, Radio Silence, under the broad umbrella of 'Alternate Universe Oneshots' which is further organized under the sub-catagory, 'Post-Apocalyse AU'). Mostly I tried to follow this method by selecting two tags from the tag list of the fic, however not all fics I wanted to include HAD enough tags to use, or they had a bunch of hyper-specific, talk-commentary tags that I felt were not very compatible with the system I had worked out. So there are a few fics that I had to categorize or sub-catagorize simply based on vibes.

Hopefully, that explanation was sufficient, and I know that – given the current state of the fandom in regards to NG – some of these fics may one day become orphaned or be taken down. Unfortunately there is little I can do about that other than to encourage you to download any of the fics you enjoy so that you may continue to enjoy them if they disappear.

The purpose of this undertaking was more to challenge myself (and my patience) to see if I still had what it took to make a proper rec list and also to truly get a sense of Dreamling's major themes, tropes, and common tags so that I could list them out in the primer I still want to write for TWIFH.

That's... pretty much why this exists, though along the way, I was moved to finish this project for the sake of creating a snapshot of this particular ship's fandom at this particular moment in time. Whether or not it lasts remains to be seen, but I'm glad to have done it, and I hope that any fandom historians, as well as current and future fans of Dreamling appreciate my efforts.

I would also like to give a special shout-out to the @mr-sadman Discord, which also has a fic library of at least some of the listed fics for the occasions when AO3 goes down for whatever reason, as a good chunk of Dreamling authors and artists tend to congregate there and are all a bunch of lovely and wonderfully derranged people who have supported me in this endeavor.

So please, enjoy. Go forth and read fic.

All my love, TimeSorceror

#dreamling #dreamling fic #fic recs #fic rec masterpost #long post

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genevievefangirl · 9 months ago

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Master Post - Gen's Top 100 DBDA Fics!

It is finally here! My personal top 100 DBDA fics!

My friends in the DBDA Haunt Discord server know that I am an avid fic reader. I read multiple hours every day and have read a very large chunk of all the DBDA fics out there (that are tagged Payneland). I constantly recommend fics in our fanfic channel and thought, "Well, why don't I make a huge rec list in recognition of how wonderful the fic writers of this fandom are?" And thus the idea for this list was born!

I have been working on this since the cancellation announcement almost 2 months ago. It has taken me that long to go back through my over 350+ DBDA bookmarks and select only the best of the best to be featured here.

Thank you to every fic writer in this fandom! You are all amazing and I love your work! Your creations are what keep the fandom alive and healthy!

Some caveats before we begin:

These fics are in alphabetical order by title.

I have a Payneland bias. All of these are Payneland fics. Maybe I will make a list sometime that has more ship variety, but for now, that is what is on the list.

I also have a very strong hurt/comfort & angst bias, so there will be a lot of that on here as well! But there are a few fluffy fics too!

There is no smut on this list. Sorry, smut just isn't my thing. There is exactly one fic rated E on here.

Not all tags are listed! I have selected the ones that I feel are the most important and in some cases added some that I felt were missing. But please read the full tag list on the fic itself!

I will be releasing 10 fics a day for 10 days, to make the posts more readable and to have some fun!

And now... THE LIST!

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11 - WIPs

(and yes I will link a google sheets version once all the parts are out)

#gen's 100 DBDA fics masterpost #gen's 100 DBDA fics #dead boy detectives #edwin payne #payneland #charles rowland #dbda #dbda fanfiction #dbda fanfic #save dead boy detectives #paineland #fic rec #ao3 fanfic #ao3 #fanfic #fanfiction #the dead boy detective agency #the dead boy detectives #dead boy detective agency

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gabetheunknown · 2 months ago

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Because I've been thinking and writing for this fic for over 2 years now, it certainly deserves a lil drawing to complement it! I even made a background??? Lot's of firsts for me! Go give my fic (or my drawing if ur just here for that) a little love!

Between the Lines of Authority (85912 words) by GabeTheUnknown Chapters: 19/? Fandom: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion & Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Jaskier | Dandelion & Shani, Jaskier | Dandelion/Radowid V Srogi | Radovid V the Stern, Jaskier | Dandelion & Priscilla, Essi Daven & Jaskier | Dandelion Characters: Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Shani (The Witcher), Rience (The Witcher), Essi Daven, Sabrina Glevissig, Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon, Triss Merigold, Lambert (The Witcher), Eskel (The Witcher), Priscilla (The Witcher), Radowid V Srogi | Radovid V the Stern Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, Oxenfurt Academy (The Witcher), Age Difference, Professor Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, College Student Jaskier | Dandelion, No beta we die like Henry Cavill's career, Teacher-Student Relationship, First Kiss, Angst, like inevitably there is going to be angst, First Time, Anal Sex Summary: Jaskier recently started living on campus at Oxenfurt University. Studying liberal arts is his first step in becoming an artist. He struggles, not with his work, grade-wise, but concentrating has never proved harder when he sees his history professor for the first time. Geralt soon finds out that this might be, in the few years he's been teaching at Oxenfurt, the smartest student he's ever taught. He's as annoyed as he is impressed. Their bond grows when they set up a plan together to improve the academy's assessments. Neither of them expect their lives to become so complicated in the span of only a few months.

[With the specific scene under the read more]

“Morning, Mr. Rivia,” Jaskier said in a joyful tone when he entered his lecture hall on Thursday. He was the first to arrive for class, which made Geralt arch a brow. That rarely ever happened.

He watched for a moment as Jaskier walked up to him and placed a paper cup with Geralt’s name on it on his lectern. It smelled of coffee, and vaguely of hazelnut. As amused as he was the first time when Jaskier brought him coffee, he smiled and gave him a nod in appreciation.

“Are you?” Jaskier asked, placing an elbow on Geralt’s lectern and his chin on his palm.

Struck by confusion, more than anything else, Geralt frowned, “sorry?”

“Available on Sunday?” Jaskier repeated what he asked over text.

Geralt kept his gaze on him for a moment. It wasn’t a complicated question, per se, it was just a slightly complicated situation—which was an understatement—and since Geralt had already replied to it with silence two times, he found himself unable to find the words in that moment.

He was available on Sunday, he just hadn’t decided if he wanted to spend it with his student, or on his own, on his couch, with a nice whisky. Besides, the last time Jaskier came over, they didn’t get much work done.

Geralt eyed the entrance of his hall before flicking his eyes back to Jaskier, who was way too close to him for his comfort.

“Pick a seat. Class is starting,” Geralt said low, lifting his chin in a nod.

Jaskier moved away, just before more students started trickling in. There was a tiny smile on his face before he turned to pick a seat.

Geralt swallowed, letting out a short sigh, before he greeted his students and mentally prepared for his lecture.

#geraskier #geralt x jaskier #jaskier #geralt #the witcher #geraskier fanfiction #geraskier fic rec #student/teacher #mind the tags i suppose :3 #gabe's art #gabe writes #BTLOA masterpost

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hamburgerndsprite · 2 months ago

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SPRITE'S BTS FICS MASTERLIST

♡ “Welcome to the fic garden—where love blooms, logic dies, and delulu thrives.” ♡

🌸✨ Hiiii and welcome to my little fic corner! ✨🌸

Hi there, lovely souls!

I’ve just started sharing my stories, and it means the absolute world to me that you’re here. These fics are little pieces of my heart, born from sleepless nights, stolen daydreams, and a slightly unhinged love for fictional chaos and comfort. I’m still learning and growing as a writer, but I hope you find something here that makes you smile, scream, sob… or ideally, all three at once.

🫧 Please be kind:

All fics and moodboards on this blog are created by me unless stated otherwise.

✧ No translations, or copying, please.

✧ Feel free to like, comment, or reblog and spread the love

✧ Respect the effort, and let the stories stay where they were born, with all the love and mess in place 🤍

And this is all pure fiction. No real-person shipping here. Names & visuals are just for ✧vibes✧

🌟 Also!

I adore fics as much as I write them, and I’ve left a little treasure chest of masterful works by other amazing writers below. Please check them out, shower them in love, and let them know how incredible they are ✨

[BTS FIC RECS]

Thank you for stopping by. You’re always welcome here. Bring your tea, your emotions, and your love for beautiful messes. Let’s get lost in stories together 💌

With all my heart,

Makaira 🌸

➳ A MOMENT UNTOUCHED

✩ Pairing: Min Yoongi x gf! oc ✩ Genre: Romance • Established relationship • Slice of Life • Fluff, Domestic • Hurt/Comfort • Healing/Restorative ✩ Word Count: 4.7k ✩ Synopsis: ✧ A pause between heartbeats, where love got to breathe.✧

➳ STUPID CUPIDS: BABY EDITION

✧ Pairing: Baby Cupid! Jimin x Baby Cupid! OC ✧ Genre: dumbass celestial romcom • divine sabotage • gay panic • healing with glitter • emotionally repressed idiots • Crack au • Enemies-to-Lovers • Fantasy AU • Whimsical Chaos • Romance ✧ Word Count: 16k+ of glitter-fueled war crimes ✧ Synopsis: Heaven gave them one last chance. Fix broken hearts, dodge cursed scrolls, and for the love of gods, don’t fall for each other. They’re failing spectacularly.

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momo-minomo · 4 months ago

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Fic Fairy Friday Recs MASTERPOST

On fridays I try to recommend at least 10 fics around a central theme. Currently I'm doing Batfamily fics as that's what I'm into right now but I'll branch out eventually to include other fandoms.

I'm starting to get quite a collection of these so I though it was about time to make a masterpost linking all of them for everyone's convenience before the amount I'll have to link at once gets out of hand lol.

Batfamily Fandom

Specific Family members:

Dick and Tim Brotherhood (Tim Drake, Dick Grayson)

Tim and Jason Brotherhood (Tim Drake, Jason Todd)

Tim and Jason Part 2

Tim and Damian Brotherhood (Tim Drake, Damian Wayne)

Bruce Wayne and his Emotional Support Robin (Tim Drake, Bruce Wayne)

Tim and Cass being Siblings (Tim Drake, Cassandra Cain)

Duke Thomas is a Wayne (Duke Thomas, Batfamily)

Dick Grayson-centric Recs

Good Dad Bruce Wayne Recs (Bruce Wayne, Batfamily)

Themed Rec Lists:

Batfamily Shenanigans (general Batfamily focus)

Young Justice Recs (Tim Drake, Kon-El Kent, Bart Allen, Cassandra Sandsmark, other Young Justice 98 members)

Batfam Valentines Special (romance fics centering around a Batfam member and various partners including TimKon, SuperBat, etc)

Civilian Tim Giving The Batfam Heart Attacks (Tim Drake joins the Batfam early, late, etc)

Cryptid Batfam (The batfamily either being actual cryptids, mistaken for them, or acting like it)

Batfamily meets the Justice League (Justice League members, batfamily members, identity reveals)

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thenightwinggraveyard · 11 months ago

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the sakura haruno ultimate fic list : a masterlist

: a collection of fic rec lists centered around sakura haruno from naruto.

this list was mostly for me personally, sakura happens to be my favourite character and so i of course looked high and low for fics focused on her. here are some of the tumblr lists ive been able to find!

sakura haruno fics (ao3) - by @p-st

-- a really good collection of fics, best recs ever, a goldmine!!

2. have some bamf sakura fics because god knows canon doesn't do her justice and this girl needs some more love - by @tciddaemina

3. good BAMF!Sakura fics - by @mixelation

4. sakura haruno fanfic rec list. - by @shakasa

-- heads up for many inclusions of fics with ships such as kakasaku, itasaku, and shisaku (which i personally avoid) on this list

5. general list (not organized, not updated, just some of my favs),

third war contonued/sakura sent to war prematurely,

civillian discrimination/clan politics,

ANBU AU,

captured on a mission/mission gone wrong,

time travel au’s,

-- warning, certain ships included (minasaku, madasaku, shisaku, kakasaku, etc)

and kid/academy/pre-genin sakura - all by @stu-dyingstudent

i havent read all of the fics on all of these lists but they are amazing starting points and just recs in general so hats off to all of the list writers! if you've read to this point and would like any other fic recs, or would just like to chat about sakura or naruto as a whole w me then feel free to go to my ask page or comment :)

LAST UPDATED: [09/12/2024]

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hellbornsworld · 2 years ago

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JUNGKOOK FIC REC MASTERLIST ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹ ᰔ

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JUNGKOOK ROYAL FANFIC RECOMMENDATIONSજ⁀➴જ⁀➴જ⁀➴જ⁀➴જ⁀➴જ⁀➴

BTS Members Wattpad Recommendations ・₊✧₊˚⊹ִ ࣪

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inevitably-johnlocked · 14 days ago

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Johnlock Fic Recs Fic Rec Roundup: Week of July 6 to 12

NEW

5FF:July 11/25

REBLOGS

Week of May 25 to 31/25

All Kinds of Music Fics

American AU (TO READ)

Homophobia / Sexuality / Pride (Updated June 2023)

John’s Away (and Sherlock’s Not Okay)

5FF: June 6/25

MASTERPOSTS

Fave Fics / “Well-Written” Fics

Crack / Humour / Funny Fics (July 2025)

Platonic / Bromance Fics (July 2025)

S4 & Post S4 Fics

All Health / Death / Illness Fics (July 2025)

#johnlock fic recs #fic rec roundup #my fic recs #fic masterpost

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prodagustd · 1 month ago

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the road not taken 08 | myg

part eight: truce

Summary: After all this years, and months, and days where —no matter what you did or what you didn’t do— you still had to see Yoongi against you wishes, you began to worry if you were meant to find him every time.

<part seven

—pairing: lawyer!yoongi x actress!oc

—rating: +18

—genre: brother's best friend, one sided pinning (or both?), slow burn

—warnings/tags: slow burn, angst, fluff.

—words: 10.6k

—a/note: hi friends!! i'm posting this chapter while doubting myself as always but i had sososo much fun writing i hope you liked it!! i wanted to post it earlier but consider this as an earlier celebration for yoongi's discharge !! also, the other day i was reminded of this poem and it kinda inspired me to finish writing the chapter, i hope you enjoy and as always, you're welcomed to discuss this part in the asks!!

series masterlist | teaser | playlist

Present

There was a time a few years ago, back when you slept in a bed for two and winter sneaked under your sheets, when the treacherous thought of what could’ve been knocked on your door before you fell asleep every night. Even when you tried to push it away, even when you threw your pillow over your head, even seconds before those 2 mg of melatonin were about to kick in, the question still tormented your mind. There, in the dark of your room as the lights of the city poorly illuminated the place, you wondered if there was a timeline, a different reality where everything worked out.

You closed your eyes and tried to imagine a universe where everything was alright—one where Yoongi apologized for not calling after that night, and when you saw him that cold December morning, he’d be so happy to see you that the frown on his face would disappear.

Maybe in that universe, he would’ve asked you to stay for lunch, and maybe you would’ve helped him with his mom for the rest of the winter so she wouldn’t be mad at him. You tortured yourself thinking that maybe Yoongi would’ve planned the trip to the beach for the end of spring. You imagined what kind of shorts he would’ve packed, what kind of t-shirts, what kind of pajamas. You wondered if he would’ve let you stop at every old diner on the side of the road, if he would’ve taken your picture at every stop, if he would’ve kissed you just before you changed seats when it was your turn to drive.

Ever since that day, you’d rolled in bed wondering if he ever pictured you the same way you had so many times—if he saw you in the passenger seat of his car, on the sand by the sea, on the blue sheets, in hotel towels.

Looking at the ceiling, with eyes wide open, you always ended up thinking: would it have been so bad to follow you? Would he have gotten tired of your laughter so quickly? Of your fingers running down his back, of your words hanging from your lips just before you were about to make fun of him? Would he have gotten tired of your arguing, your cursing, your dragging feet? Would the memory of the few hundred kisses he gave you that night have worn out that fast?

You knew thinking about it was a waste of time, but as you were getting ready to have dinner with Nari, all those unanswered questions resurfaced—just in case you wanted to think twice and stay home, like you were so tempted to do.

On the edge of her bed was Minnie, sitting next to her cat as she watched you do your eyeliner. She had already apologized for snapping at you a few days ago, which forced you to recognize that maybe, just maybe, you weren’t completely cool with Yoongi being around, and you weren’t completely cool with him being involved in a place that had nothing to do with him, nothing except you.

But surprisingly, against all odds—against all Yoongis—you wanted to stay. Not only because saying yes to Minnie and then quitting would’ve been completely cruel, but because you wanted to. You stayed because some part of you, the part you kept trying to silence, didn’t want to leave just yet.

You were still bitter that Minnie stayed friendly with Yoongi—but that started to fade when you told her he wanted to “talk things through” (whatever that meant). She was your best friend again the second she joined you in talking shit, trying to dissect everything he said like it was a crime scene that needed solving.

“So…” Minnie tilted her head, eyeing you. “Is he picking you up?”

“He said so.”

She paused for a moment, picturing that image in her head. “You know he has a girl, right?” she said, snorting. “I would freak out if I were Blondie. Imagine finding out your boyfriend is driving his famous ex-girlfriend to have dinner with his mom. God, no. I’d throw up.”

You shook your head, trying not to laugh at how fast her imagination could run. “He’s not my ex-boyfriend, Minnie… and he’s not driving me—we’re walking. He asked if we could have a chat before dinner, so she shouldn’t worry too much.” You said, turning from the mirror to sit beside her and slip on your Mary Janes. “And besides… you shouldn’t be gossiping about your friend, you know?”

Minnie scoffed. “Whatever, it’s none of my business, but since when has that ever stopped me?” She waved a hand dismissively. “Besides, it’s not gossip if it’s true.” She huffed. “Did you know that he can’t keep a girl? I mean, maybe that’s not the right way to put it, because he can—he totally could. But maybe he just doesn’t want to.”

“Charming,” you muttered, fussing a little too long with the strap of your shoe. “He’s always been like that.”

Minnie leaned back against the headboard, arms crossed. “Yeah, yeah, I know. But it’s not just that—it’s like he gets bored. I’ve seen it happen a few times. He meets a girl, keeps her around for a few weeks, and then poof. Gone.”

You paused, curiosity flickering despite yourself. “Wait, what do you mean? Like he ghosts them?”

“No, I don’t think he ghosts them.” She said “It’s like he fades out. Stops texting as much, stops making plans. Let things die off slow.”

You glanced up, forcing your expression to stay neutral, though your fingers lingered a bit too long on the buckle. “Like a soft breakup?”

Minnie smiled, a small, knowing curve of her lips. “It’s not really a breakup, though, is it? Not if he’s not actually in a relationship. That’s what he keeps saying about that blonde girl—‘the girl I’m seeing,’” she mimicked in a teasing tone. “Like he’s afraid of it getting too serious.”

You gave a small, distracted nod, not trusting yourself to say much. It was weird hearing that—how casual he was with other people. But it wasn’t difficult to imagine him like that; he never had proper girlfriends back in high school, which, at the time, felt like a small mercy. But that didn’t spare you from watching him parade around with a new girl every other week.

“How do you even know all that?” you asked, genuinely curious.

“Namjoon,” Minnie said, like it was obvious. “He works with Yoongi sometimes. He told me.”

You laughed, eyebrows lifting. “Namjoon? Isn’t he Yoongi’s friend? Why would he spill that to you?”

“Because he likes me,” she said breezily, without missing a beat. “Didn’t I tell you that already? I’m pretty sure that’s the only reason he’s helping out at The Alley. Look—I don’t believe in exploiting my charm to get things from men, but if it’s for an extremely good cause?” She gave a shrug. “I think I’ll survive. Besides, he’s not a weirdo. He’s actually really cute.”

You snorted. “Yeah, tell me about it. Does he still wear those glasses?”

Her eyes lit up. “The glasses are so cute.”

You shook your head, smiling.

“It wasn’t just Namjoon, though,” she added. “I can read people.”

“Yoongi’s not easy to read,” you said, quieter this time. “Maybe you’re reading him wrong.”

“No, I don’t think so.” She shook her head “I told you, with you… it was different. It’s like he can’t talk about you, or even hear your name. It stings him, I know it wasn’t like that with you.”

You let out a dry laugh. For some reason, you already knew it was different with you. Even now, you could still swear it was. You could look into Yoongi’s eyes and see everything through, it meant something, but that didn’t make it any less bad. “Yeah, it was different.” You muttered, rising to your feet and brushing invisible dust from your skirt, just to have something to do. “It was worse.”

Minnie tilted her head, her eyes glinting with mischief. “You know,” she said, tapping her chin thoughtfully “maybe you broke him. Maybe that’s why he can’t keep a girl now. You ruined his capacity for normal relationships.”

You laughed, surprised by how easily it came out. “Please. That boy was malfunctioning way before me.”

“Perhaps,” Minnie said, pretending to consider it. “But you broke him for good.”

You rolled your eyes, though the smile lingered. “We weren’t even together, Minnie. We barely got started.”

She crossed her arms behind her head “C’mon… You fucked. You fucked like, a lot.”

You snorted, eyes squeezing shut. “God.”

“Maybe that’s how you did it,” she said with a shrug, grinning. “Scrambled his brain. That poor man never stood a chance.”

You covered your face, laughing into your hands. “Can you not? I have to look him in the eye.”

“Oh, please. What if he can’t get it up with anyone else now? What if that’s why he dumps them?” She smirked. “God, I’d kill to ruin a man like that.”

You shook your head. “You’re deranged.”

Minnie just smiled, clearly proud of it.

Still chuckling, you grabbed your phone. Just as you were about to slip it into your bag, the screen lit up with a new message.

Yoongi: I’m outside.

“Speaking of the devil.” You sighed, suddenly feeling nervous.

“Hell is empty.” She whispered, dramatically. “And all the devils are here.”

You seemed to be stuck in a constant fight between the present and the past, even after all the times you’d tried to leave things behind. But the past had a way of finding you—softly, stubbornly—whether you liked it or not.

This time, though, you had a choice. When Yoongi texted you a few days ago, you could’ve ignored it. You could’ve said you’d changed your mind, told him to fuck off, and left it at that. It wasn’t like you owed him anything. You didn’t have to talk to him, didn’t have to look at him, didn’t have to remember.

It was stupid, really, but you guessed this was also a small part of your redemption arc. Facing Yoongi. Giving things a proper ending. Trying to behave like a decent, grown-up human being, even when some parts of you still refused, even when it still stung.

So here you were, heart picking up pace with every step as you pushed the door open, letting the cold hit your face just as his long figure turned to face you.

Yoongi stood by the stair railings, cheeks and nose pink from the wind, hair slightly messy and a long grey coat, different from his usual black one. His eyes lit up just barely, but you caught it.

“Hey,” he said, voice low, careful.

“Hi…” You muttered, letting the door click shut behind you. Then, glancing at his coat, “Is it that cold?”

He looked down, shrugged. “A bit, yeah.”

You groaned as you started walking, the sidewalk still damp from a recent rain. “I should’ve worn pants.”

You heard his footsteps fall beside you as you turned the corner, knowing the way to his childhood home from memory. He kept careful distance between you, but you could feel him regardless.

The street was quiet, just the low hum of cars in the distance and the occasional gust of wind threading between the buildings. You tucked your hands into your jacket pockets. He did the same.

For a moment, it was like neither of you knew how to speak.

Then Yoongi cleared his throat, barely louder than the wind. “You really staying for the whole thing?”

You glanced sideways at him. “The play?”

“Yeah. I thought you were just visiting,” He said, eyes fixed on the sidewalk.

“No, um… I’m staying for a bit. At least until December. For the play, and some other stuff, too.” you added, unsure what else to say. The truth was that you didn’t have any idea what you were going to do in the next months, but that was the plan for now.

“Great,” he murmured. “I’m glad you’re staying. When you left the other day, I thought you were about to quit.”

You didn’t answer right away. The streetlight ahead blinked weakly.

“Oh, I thought about it,” you admitted. “But I wouldn’t do that to Minnie. And… I like yelling at kids.”

He let out a low laugh. “Clearly your calling.”

That made you smile. You didn’t mean to—but he caught it, and didn’t comment. Just kept walking beside you like he hadn’t noticed at all.

“You still do that thing where you tap your fingers when you’re nervous,” he said after a minute, eyes on your hand wrapped around your bag strap.

You glanced at him. “You still bring up things no one asks you to notice.”

He gave a small laugh. “Right. Sorry.”

“You’re not sorry.”

“No, I’m not.”

The sidewalk went quiet again. A bus rattled by on the other side of the street, loud enough to fill the space between words. Neither of you turned to look.

“So?” you said eventually, looking at him. “You told me you were going to figure something out.”

He nodded once. “Yeah. I did say that.”

But then he fell quiet again.

You gave him a look. “Well?”

He blinked, caught in thought. “I don’t know,” he said slowly. “I guess I’m realizing that no matter what I come up with, you’ll still want me six feet under, so it’s… complicated.”

You looked at him. “It’s not that I want you buried, Yoongi.”

He looked at you then—really looked, like he was trying to figure out if you meant it.

“Okay,” he said quietly. “That’s… something.”

“It’s just…” You exhaled, keeping your voice even. “I’m not in the best mood these days. And honestly, you’re not exactly the person I’d choose to spend the night with. I’m confused. I don’t know what you’re trying to do here.”

“I don’t either,” he said, quiet but honest. “But I’m trying. And I’ve been thinking… I don’t want to fight with you.”

You stayed silent. You weren’t sure if you agreed with that. There was still a part of you that would take any opportunity to push him away.

You didn’t answer. A moment passed before you heard him sigh.

“We’ve known each other our whole lives, you know?” he murmured after a few seconds. There was a weight to his words, an understanding only the two of you could share. The sentence echoed in the quiet street, it echoed inside your chest and rang your ears, making you clench your fists.

“I know.” You muttered, keeping your eyes on the sidewalk, the rhythm of your steps careful. “You don’t have to tell me.”

He looked ahead, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his coat, his breath visible in the cold air. “Well… I don’t know. Maybe I have to.”

You shook your head slightly, not quite looking at him. “But that’s the point. We don’t know each other anymore. I don’t know you, and you don’t know me.” You paused, letting the words hang between you both. “That doesn’t have to do with anything.”

His voice softened, but his words didn’t waver. “That has to do with everything.” He glanced at you, his gaze steady but unsure. “We’re going to see each other. We’re part of each other’s lives.”

You’re not part of my life, you wanted to say. You’d worked hard to make sure of that—to push him out, to forget. And yet here he was again, walking beside you like no time had passed at all.

“I don’t know.” You sighed “I’m gonna be honest, that doesn’t feel like a good reason to me. History doesn’t mean we owe each other anything.”

“Maybe not,” he said, quiet now. “But we still share it. Whether we like it or not. You’re part of mine. You always have been.” He gave you a quiet look, but you didn’t dare to look at him back. “Just look at my mom. She talks about you like you’re her child. She adores you, we can’t… erase that.”

You blinked at him, caught off guard by the mention of his mother.

This was the second time Yoongi had brought her up to get to you — and this time, you couldn’t say he was wrong.

You always had a weak spot for Nari. She always made you feel like you belonged, it was the kind of feeling you held onto when you were young, it was the kind of feeling you were still chasing after all these years.

“So, what are you proposing?” you asked, exhaling slowly. “Because I love your mom, Yoongi. But maybe I don’t want to be friends with you. We can’t… I can’t ignore the past, I can’t pretend you didn’t hurt me and nothing happened.”

The silence almost killed the both of you.

That was the first time either of you had said it out loud.

Yoongi didn’t flinch, but something in him shifted. You could feel it.

“I know I fucked up,” he said, voice low. “And I know I can’t rewrite things. I’m not trying to wipe that clean.”

He paused, jaw tightening for just a second.

“I’m not asking you to forget,” he said after a moment. “Or to act like it didn’t matter. I know it did.”

He glanced at you, voice careful. “But we’re not the same people anymore. Things are different. We’re different.”

He shrugged, like he didn’t want to let the silence swallow him whole.

“It’s not just that, Yoongi,” you said, almost whispering. “A lot of things changed—everything changed after I left. After everything you said. It’s not that easy to get past it.”

“I know that, too…” he said, quieter now. “I’m not trying to be an asshole.”

He sighed, like he was still choosing the words that wouldn’t come.

“I’m not saying you’re an asshole.” You let out a soft, bitter laugh. “I know you’re not. And I know you’re trying to do things right. That’s the part that bothers me.”

Yoongi didn’t say anything at first. Just looked at you for a second, like he wanted to respond but wasn’t sure how.

Then he nodded slowly.

“We can work together without dragging the past into every room. That’s all I’m saying. I’m not asking for friendship… just a middle ground.” He let out a breath. “I don’t know… we can’t just act like we don’t exist in each other’s world anymore.”

“A middle ground?” You repeated.

“A truce.”

For fuck’s sake.

You had never been one to hold back, it was quite the opposite. You were explosive, and you never thought twice. A truce wouldn’t mean the same thing to Yoongi as it would to you. To you, a truce would mean biting your tongue, going against your own nature.

But then again, you could try. Maybe a truce wasn’t about forgiving him. Maybe it was about choosing not to let him take up more space in your head than he already did.

So you let the tension in your shoulders ease, just barely, and gave a tight nod.

Not agreement. Just permission—to stop fighting for a minute.

“A truce.” You repeated again, but the word rooted in your mouth. There was a beat of silence before you spoke again. You exhaled, watching your breath fog in the cold air. “And what would be the terms of this truce?”

His gaze drifted forward, like he was choosing his next words carefully. He shifted his weight, his eyes flicking to you. “Okay. Terms of the truce.”

You crossed your arms, not quite looking at him. “You stop using your mom to get to me.”

He nodded, no sign of protest. “Fair. Then you stop looking at me like you’d rather walk into traffic than stand next to me.”

You arched an eyebrow. “I can’t promise that. But I’ll try to keep it subtle.” you said “Anything else?”

You saw the ghost of a smile appearing on his face. “No snapping at each other,” he said. “No snarky comments. No pretending the other person doesn’t exist.”

You hummed, unconvinced.

“No dragging each other into arguments we don’t have to have,” he added. “We stay civil. We work together when we need to. We don’t make things harder than they already are.”

You glanced at him. “And what do we do when it gets hard anyway?”

He didn’t answer right away. For a moment, the only sound was the scrape of your shoes on the pavement.

You weren’t asking out of curiosity. You were asking because you knew yourself — knew how quickly your temper rose, how sharp your tongue could get when he looked at you the wrong way, or said something in that calm, unreadable tone that made you feel like you were the only one still bleeding from the past.

And Yoongi, in his usual way, was probably wondering if this was the part where you gave up, where you proved him right, that the two of you couldn’t exist in the same space without turning it into a battlefield.

But he didn’t flinch. Didn’t look away.

“We deal with it,” he said simply. “Like two people who can handle being in the same room.”

You stared straight ahead, your jaw tight. There was a sting in your chest you chose not to name.

“That’s a lot of rules,” you said.

“It’s just one,” Yoongi replied. “Don’t make each other miserable.”

You didn’t say yes. But you didn’t say no either.

And maybe — for now — that was the best either of you could offer.

Standing in the hall of Yoongi’s apartment felt like breaking a pact you’d made with yourself—an oath you swore years ago to never come back. You never thought you’d find yourself here again, walking down this hallway, watching him open the doors of the old elevator. It felt like a small betrayal, even if Yoongi didn’t live here anymore.

Simon had told you Yoongi moved to an apartment near the center of town three years ago. Probably a tall building with a modern elevator, the kind that played music when you pushed the buttons, with white lights and a security guard at the entrance. Just like yours in the city.

It was hard to picture Yoongi there, in his old man sweaters and fuzzy socks, sitting by the window and looking out at the town. He didn’t seem like he belonged in a place like that. It felt like he only ever belonged here.

He closed the doors behind you and stood there, looking at the buttons before pressing the one for the fourth floor. You watched him as the yellowish lights illuminated his side profile, the curve of his nose, his hooded eyes. You looked without any kind of shame, allowing yourself to observe him: his long hair, the marks on his skin, the mole on his cheek just beside his nose, his eyelashes, the earring in his ear, and the empty holes from past piercings.

You couldn’t help but recall that winter night from four years ago every now and then, but now, standing here, it felt almost impossible not to. In the same place where he once pressed you against the wall and kissed you, it felt like it had happened just yesterday.

You remembered lying beside him, taking your time to memorize every detail like you had all the time in the world. And back then, it felt like you did. You counted the moles on his body, traced the veins along his hands and arms with your fingers, touched his lips, kissed his lips, his neck, his cheeks, his chest.

You didn’t remember ever kissing someone that much. You could almost swear that, even in your three-year relationship with Ian, you hadn’t kissed him as many times as you did in those three days spent in Yoongi’s old bedroom, on his bed, in his kitchen, on his couch, in his shower, against the wall, and against the floor.

You remembered kissing him in the morning light, when the sun came through the window and hit his face, making him scrunch his nose and close his eyes. But there was something entirely different about kissing him in the dark—between sheets and secrets and shaky breaths—something about the feeling of having him all to yourself that you could never forget. It was engraved in your memory, like the shape of his lips had been tattooed onto yours, and from then on, no kiss had ever felt the same.

You used to know him. Not only the way his body moved, or how his hand fit around your hips. Not just the vessel of his body, but the person he used to be. Inside and out, you knew him.

You didn’t notice earlier. You didn’t notice at The Alley or when you saw him at your house the day you arrived. It seemed to have escaped you—only now could you see that he looked tired. It wasn’t just that he looked older, or the long day he must have had at work today. It was something else.

You didn’t have time to wonder about it for too long. When the elevator shook, you looked away.

It took you less than two minutes to reach the door, and when Yoongi opened it and stepped aside to let you in, the warmth of the apartment hit you—then the smell. You hadn’t realized how tense you’d been on the way up. Now, you were surprised to feel weirdly comforted.

You both kicked your shoes off without thinking too much. You paused, sniffing the air. “Wait… is that—?”

“Doenjang jjigae,” he said, already pulling off his coat. “Mom said you liked it.”

You smiled before you could stop yourself. “I haven’t had it in forever.”

Yoongi disappeared down the hallway without another word, leaving you standing in the entryway, coat still on your shoulders, unsure if you should follow.

You were still taking in the warmth and scent of the apartment when Nari appeared from the kitchen doorway, steady on her walker. The metal frame clinked softly against the floor as she moved towards you, a dish towel draped over one arm.

“Oh, there she is!” she said, eyes lighting up. “You’re already here!”

You smiled, stepping forward to meet her. “Hey, Nari.”

She opened her arms without letting go of the walker. “Come here, don’t be shy.” She gave you a quick hug, careful and slow.

You leaned in for the hug, careful not to bump into the metal frame. Her embrace was as firm as ever, if a little slower to pull back.

“You didn’t have to cook just for me,” you said, even though the smell from the kitchen was already making your stomach growl.

She waved you off. “Nonsense, I wanted to. And you’re too skinny. You still don’t eat breakfast, do you?”

You gave a small laugh, not quite answering. Behind her, Yoongi reappeared, carrying two sets of bowls. He glanced at the two of you, then cleared his throat.

“Uh, Mom—did Summer already leave?”

Nari looked over her shoulder. “Yes, she helped me chop vegetables and argued with me about how much salt to use. Then she left about an hour ago.” She turned back to you, smiling as she walked towards the table. “I didn’t tell her you were coming because she would’ve wanted to stay longer. She is such a fan of yours, you know?”

You smiled, not sure who she was talking about “She is?”

“Oh yes,” Nari said easily. “She’s my nurse. She’s been helping me around the house for a few months now. Sweet girl. Blonde, tall, always so well put-together. She said she saw you once—at that theater… what’s it called…?”

You blinked “The Alley?”

“Yes! That’s the one.” Nari nodded. “She mentioned seeing you there, said she didn’t want to bother you, but she was excited all week after that.”

You breath caught for a beat as you put two and two together.

Yoongi glanced up from where he was setting the bowls, his hands slowing just slightly. His fingers hesitated over the chopsticks, then adjusted them again

You didn’t look at him. You didn’t have to.

It was her. The blonde girl outside The Alley. The one he’d shown up with. The one who kept looking at you like she wanted to say something but never did.

You stood there, trying not to think about how perfect she had looked standing next to Yoongi. Tall. Blonde. Model-like. The kind of girl who probably made people stare twice on the street—not because they recognized her, but because she was the type people noticed.

And she was a nurse. Of course she was.

You almost laughed, but the hole in your stomach didn’t let you.

It was so unnecessary, such a waste of time to even think about it. Still, it was hard not to wonder, just for a second, if that was his type. Someone steady, soft-spoken and kind. Someone you were not.

“Oh,” you said, quiet, folding your coat over your arm and smoothing the fabric a little too carefully. “I think I remember her.”

Yoongi’s jaw tightened—just barely—and he reached for the next bowl, though his grip looked a little too firm, like he was afraid he might drop it. Was this uncomfortable for him? Was it for you?

“Oh? Really?” Nari asked, “I’ll tell her you did, she’ll lose her mind.”

You smiled, what else could you do?

Chasing the thoughts away, you let it go, like you were supposed to.

A few moments later, the three of you were sitting at the table and you were grateful to be thinking of something else. The dining table wasn’t large, not like the one back at your family’s house, always too long, always full of guests. Here, everything felt more familiar, closer, like time didn’t pass at all inside this house. There was only ever Nari and Yoongi, and now there was you.

You tried to change the subject. “You should’ve invited Simon, too. He’s probably around, isn’t he?” You asked Nari.

Nari waved a hand, “Simon is here all the time, and he eats all the food. Besides” her eyes twinkled “I wanted it to be just you and Yoongi tonight.”

There was something innocent in her tone, offhanded even, but the words hung in the air a second too long.

The evening settled into a quiet rhythm after that.

The doenjang jjigae steamed between you, warm and familiar, and the table slowly filled with other dishes — kimchi, anchovies, steamed egg, bowls of white rice. You found yourself relaxing, bit by bit, lulled by the sound of chopsticks against ceramic, the occasional clink of glasses being refilled, and Nari’s steady voice weaving from one topic to the next.

She talked about her book club, the women at the community center who were always getting into harmless gossip. She talked about her last checkup, her doctor’s advice to cut back on salt and how she, of course, had ignored it.

You enjoyed listening to her, your flushed face resting in your hands, leaning over the table and laughing every time she said something funny. But all she really wanted to talk about was you, even if you’d rather talk about anything else in the world

“So, are you working on another movie?” Nari asked. “We went to see your last one with Yoongi. We loved it.”

You smiled, eyebrows lifting in surprise, finding that very funny for some reason. “You did?” you said, glancing at him.

“Of course. It was so sad, he almost cried,” she added, nodding towards him.

You snorted. “You cried?”

Yoongi kept his eyes on the bowl. “I didn’t.”

Nari rolled her eyes. “He did.”

“I had allergies,” he muttered.

“During summer?” You asked.

He looked at you, shaking his head, not willing to answer. You bit back at smirk.

You tried to imagine Yoongi buying tickets for your movie last summer—walking into the theater, sitting there for two hours, watching you. You tried to imagine him taking advantage of the darkness to let himself cry, then leaving, trying to forget about it and go on with his day. It was a strange image. You had never mixed that part of your life with this one—mainly because this was the part you'd left behind. But you’d never really stopped to consider that your life kept happening everywhere, even if you weren’t there to see it.

“There is no shame in crying during movies.” Nari said, being unaware of the two of you. “You pick very sad ones, dear.”

You laughed softly. “Well, they only ever want me for sad films these days,” you said, lifting your glass. “They tell me I have sad eyes. Whatever that means.”

Nari tilted her head, studying you closely. “You do have a melancholic stare, sweetheart. But it’s a beautiful thing. You say more with your eyes than you do with your voice.”

You caught the faint smile that tugged at Yoongi’s lips as he stared into his bowl.

“Thanks, I guess,” you said, returning the smile, warmth spreading in your chest. “I just hope that doesn’t get me in trouble.” You leaned back slightly, more at ease now. “But no, I don’t have any projects at the moment. I want to spend more time with my mom—sleep more, eat more... Besides, I took a job at the theater, so I’ll be busy with that until December.”

“Right, Yoongi mentioned that,” Nari said, folding her hands together with a small smile. “He said everyone was happy to see you again. How long has it been?”

You glanced away, trying to remember the last time you'd been at The Alley. The dates blurred together.

“Two years ago,” Yoongi said before you could answer.

You turned to him in surprise. He cleared his throat.

“You were there for the Bong Joon-ho week,” he added, not quite meeting your eyes. “Memories of murder.”

You nodded slowly, the memory coming back immediately, but he wasn’t part of it.

“I don’t remember seeing you there…” You said, feeling the weight of the sudden silence of the room.

He looked away, “I was there, I just… sat very close to the back.”

Your lips parted, then curved into a polite smile. “Well, it’s been a while.” You turned back to Nari, keeping your tone light. “But honestly, not much has changed over there.”

Nari leaned in slightly. “So, what are you doing there, exactly?”

“She’s working with the kids,” Yoongi cut in, quick to respond.

You flicked your eyes towards him, not irritated—just surprised at how ready he was to speak for you.

Nari brightened. “That sounds so sweet. I’m sure they’re thrilled.”

“They are,” Yoongi added. “They’re obsessed with her. She’s kind of a big deal.”

You gave a soft laugh, shaking your head. “Hardly. I just showed up. They’re the ones doing all the real work.”

She looked at you with a bright expression. “You’re being modest.”

“No, really. I just wanted to help. They’re so enthusiastic. It’s kind of impossible not to get pulled in.”

“What are you doing with them?”

“Mostly helping them rehearse, learn lines, fix costumes. Nothing too dangerous.”

Yoongi laughed under his breath. “She’s being humble. She’s running the show.”

“Well…”

“And doing it well. Even if she nearly bit my head off the first day.” He casually mentioned, catching you off guard.

It was still strange — how easy this seemed to him. To bring you back here, look at you in the eyes, the teasing, the warmth, the casual way he slipped back into before, like nothing had happened. Like he could just talk to you like that.

It wasn’t that you hated it. It made you nervous.

This was the point of the truce, being civil, not picking at old wounds. But still, it felt like he was settling into something softer, something that didn’t exist anymore. Like he wanted something gentler from you, and wasn’t even aware of it.

And maybe the worst part was… you kept letting him. Not because you’d forgiven him. Not because you weren’t still angry. But because there was something in the way he looked at you tonight — cautious and familiar — that made it hard to stay guarded all the way through.

You rolled your eyes. “That was entirely your fault.”

Nari let out a laugh, eyes dancing between you both. “You two had a fight? How shocking.”

“It wasn’t a fight…” you murmured, glancing sideways at Yoongi with a look that wasn’t quite sharp but definitely not warm. “It was just… a disagreement.”

“I was just trying to help,” he said, lifting his hands in mock defense. “Provide legal advice for the screenplay.”

“You weren’t hired to be a lawyer,” you shot back, a hint of amusement in your tone. “Not on Saturdays, at least.”

“I’m always a lawyer, Pinky.”

The nickname hung in the air a second longer than it should’ve. But this time, you didn’t flinch.

You looked at him for a second, biting your lip. You wanted to say something, but turned to his mom instead, deciding to ignore it. “See, Nari. That’s the thing with lawyers, they always need to be right.”

“That sounds very much like Yoongi.” She chuckled, clearly enjoying this. “But don’t let the whole lawyer act fool you, dear. He’s been like that since forever. Always has to get the last word, even if it’s nonsense.”

You let out a soft breath of laughter. “Oh, you don’t have to tell me. I already know.”

“C’mon,” Yoongi cut in, nudging the air between you, “you’re exactly the same.”

You tilted your head, giving him a mock-frown. “Except I’m actually always right.”

Nari hummed thoughtfully, her smile not quite innocent. “Well, I don’t know who’s right, but I do know I hate seeing you two fight.”

You looked down at your fingers on the table, avoiding her eyes.

“We’ll try not to.” Yoongi said, and it felt like a promise.

“Anyway,” you said, catching your breath, “the kids are very committed. And the place needs all the help it can get, so I’ll be there for a while.”

Yoongi nodded, quieter this time. “It’s good that you’re there.”

You glanced at him. He wasn’t teasing now. And for a moment, it made the air feel heavier — not in a bad way, but enough to make you blink and look back at your plate.

Nari, thankfully, filled the space with a soft “That theater’s lucky to have you, sweetheart.”

You smiled at her, grateful. “Thanks. I think I needed it too.”

As the night slipped away, you let yourself fall into a kind of quiet familiarity you hadn’t felt in a long time, while you and Yoongi washed the dishes. Nari sat by the window, watching the two of you with the soft scrutiny only a mother can offer, remarking that Yoongi looked taller lately, that your skirt was too thin for a cold night like this, and that Yoongi should straighten his posture.

“You two make a good team.” She said, observing Yoongi hand you a pair of clean glasses.

You laughed, but neither of you said anything to contradict her, you wouldn’t dare to.

You stayed in the kitchen a little longer, watching the rain return, soft against the glass. That’s when Nari suggested Yoongi drive you home—it was late, after all.

You didn’t argue. You had spent the whole evening with him, you were sure you could endure another five minutes in his presence if that meant you didn’t have to pay an Uber.

When it was time to leave, you hugged Nari goodbye. She held on a little longer than expected, her hands soft and familiar against your back.

“You’ll come next week for tea, right?” she asked, giving you a look that wasn’t really a question.

You smiled, nodding. “Of course.”

“Promise.”

“I promise.” She patted your cheek like she used to, and then turned towards the hallway.

“Come on, Yoongi, help me with the stupid pills.” Yoongi shot you a glance—apologetic, maybe—but didn’t say anything as he followed her down the hall. “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

“Sleep tight, Nari.” You smiled, watching them disappear as you waited in the kitchen.

Their voices drifted in and out. Nari asked where she’d left her robe. Yoongi reminded her not to mix up the bottles. A drawer opened, something clinked shut. You listened to him saying goodbye to her, it was the kind of domestic rhythm you weren’t supposed to be a part of.

A moment passed before Yoongi came back to the kitchen, with a small smile on his face as he gestured to the door. You repeated the same cycle in reverse: you put on your coats, took the elevator down in silence, walked the hallway and waited for him to unlock the door.

The rain fell over you as soon as you put foot on the streets, so you hurried to get to Yoongi’s car. He opened the door for you and you got in, sinking into the seat as you watched him walk around the car and get it. When he started the engine, the radio came on automatically, playing some Jeff Buckley song, so low you could barely hear it.

He’d changed his car, you noticed. You didn’t know anything about cars, but this one was bigger than the last—more modern. Yoongi’s old car had a busted, almost ancient stereo, and under his seat, there was a folder of CDs he used to let you choose from every time you were in the car with him. You repressed the urge to ask if he still had it.

“Thank you for coming,” he said softly, snapping you out of your thoughts.

You looked at him briefly, but his eyes were fixed on the road. “I had a good time. You don’t have to thank me…”

He nodded. “I know, but still…” He paused, his eyes briefly meeting yours before returning to the road. “It’s been a long time.”

You just hummed, refusing to acknowledge such a thing as time.

A silence settled between you, the hum of the engine filling the space. Yoongi’s jaw tightened slightly, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face.

“Was that true?” you asked suddenly. “That thing your mom said about the movie, that you cried?”

The question didn’t seem to surprise him, but he hesitated to answer for a second. “Maybe… Perhaps I teared up a little.”

You pressed your lips together, eager to know more. “Can I ask why?”

His fists clenched around the steering wheel, but he did not look at you. “You’re good at making people cry, I guess.” He said, his tone even. “You’re good.”

You sank deeper into the seat, feeling your heart slightly clenching.

By the time you arrive at Minnie's apartment, there was still something lingering in the air. Something you were both hoping to let go tonight. This wasn’t quite a closure, not even a goodbye. You weren’t sure if it would ever be something such as that.

The car stopped. The rain kept falling over you, and it was time to call it a night.

You looked at him for a moment before opening the door. Your gaze crashed into his, and for the briefest second, you felt electrified.

Another song from the same album kept playing softly. The engine was still running. The windows were all fogged up. You had nothing to prove there, nothing left to lose that night. In that moment, you could admit it: he was right—you were part of his life, and he was part of yours.

There had been something between you then, just as there was now, and somehow, you knew there always would be. You had just never known what to call it, and maybe that was what made it linger.

“Good night, Yoongi,” you said, opening the door and letting the chill of the night sneak into the car.

“Good night, Pinky.” He let out, like a breath he had been holding for too long.

Then, you disappeared into the night.

One of the many reasons you’d been at odds with this town since you were young was the lingering suspicion that it was cursed. Not cursed like in horror movies, where kids disappeared or something tragic happened every other day, but the kind of curse that quietly followed you around—the kind that hovered over you at the bus stop. It was in the dark winter evenings, in the sound of autumn leaves dragging across the street as you walked home at night, in the stillness of time as it passed. It was the frightening feeling that nothing ever changed.

In the city, everything was ever-changing. Everything was shiny and new, and every night felt different from the one before. There were moments when everything seemed fine—when you were convinced this was the life you were meant to lead all along, and your heart felt full, your soul complete, and no one could ever take it away from you.

But there were other moments, brief moments, when you walked down the street alone at night and could still hear the autumn leaves dragging across the pavement, following you home.

Over time, you began to realize that maybe your hometown was just a small town like any other. You supposed it was normal to bump into people you’d rather not see at the grocery store, at the theater, even in your own house. But then, as you grew up, another fear surged from the pit of your stomach: the suspicion that maybe you were the one who was bewitched, that you were the one carrying the curse wherever you went.

You thought you were almost used to it—the breakup with Ian, the leaked pictures, seeing Yoongi in your home the night you arrived, and running into him at The Alley days later. The more you tried to avoid it, the more it seemed to find you. But this time, it caught you off guard.

The coffee shop down the street from The Alley had always been your favorite. It was small, so small you could hear the people talking down in the kitchen and the barista complaining about her ex boyfriend. There was a whole wall filled with books and you could grab any one you wanted to read as you were waiting for your order. You always sat in the farthest corner of the room, next to the books, in a tiny table for two next to a tall lamp shaped like a flower and pretended to work on your laptop or read the same storybook for the tenth time.

No one bothered you here, no one ever did, not until now.

You heard the bell ring as the door opened and two people stepped inside. You were never particularly interested in who came or went—you always kept your nose buried in your book and gave little thought to anyone who wasn’t you. But for the first time that afternoon, you looked up.

A gust of wind slipped through the doorway, lifting Summer’s hair before it fell perfectly back into place as Yoongi stepped in behind her and closed the door.

Ugh.

Not this again. The curse.

You dropped your gaze back to your book instantly, pretending to be oblivious as you took another sip of your cup of coffee. You tried to stay focused on the story, staring at the same sentence on the page until it blurred, but the sound of chairs scraping against the floor made you want to take a look again.

They choose a table by the window. Not close to you, but not far enough either. Not far enough not to notice your quiet presence.

Summer. The name Yoongi mentioned the other night. It resonated in your head as you tried to come back to the story, but it seemed to infect each one your thoughts. What kind of name was that anyway? Summer, like flowers and the sun, ice cream and the beach. Summer, it sounded like something made up, soft and sweet, effortless. Around here, girls had names like Claire or Melissa. Summer felt like a fantasy, the kind of girl you don’t usually see in this town. Like the kind of girl you became if you got everything right on the first try. the kind of girl you used to pretend not to hate when you were in nursing school, wondering if you’d ever feel like you belonged anywhere.

Summer. Bright and easy and blonde. It figured.

God, now you sounded like a bitch. You didn’t know her. You hadn’t even talked to her. You were building entire stories in your head like a deranged person.

You shook the thought off before it could stick too long — there were better things to waste your time on. Like the fucking book in your hands that you couldn’t, for the life of you, manage to finish.

And when you were about to look away, your eyes landed on him.

Still standing. White shirt, black cardigan, hand resting on the back of a chair, mid-motion, like he’d been about to sit but got caught. Watching you.

Yoongi’s eyes locked with yours. There it was—surprise, recognition, something like hesitation. Then, a pause too long to be casual, he lifted his hand in a small, clumsy wave.

Not thinking much, you waved back before your mind processed it. Just a nod of acknowledgment. It didn’t have to be awkward. And yet, it was.

You glanced back at your book, wondering if you were supposed to revisit the terms of whatever agreement you had now. Were you expected to wave in public? Even when no one was watching? Why did you have to acknowledge him at all, especially when he was clearly here with someone else?

Whatever. In any case, you supposed this was the whole point of the truce: to share a space, to be civil and polite and blah, blah, blah. It bored you just thinking about it.

You turned back to your book. Or tried to—because the sound of his voice carried through the room, low and steady, filling every corner like smoke. You couldn’t make out the words, but that didn’t stop your brain from trying.

You closed your eyes and sighed. Still, you found yourself straining to decode what he might be saying, or why she kept laughing like that.

Determined, you stared at the same page for the third time, willing yourself to focus. This time, you told yourself, you were going to make it through. You were this close to slipping back into the story.

A few minutes passed. Enough for the noise around you to dull into background static, for the text to finally start sinking in. You managed to stay focused on the story, your fingers pressed lightly to the page as if that could anchor you there.

You didn’t notice the shadow at first. Just a shift in the air beside you, a faint rustle of movement, a shadow. Then the creak of the chair across from you being pulled out.

When you looked up, Yoongi was already sitting down.

Your heart jumped before your expression could catch up. He wasn’t looking at you, not yet, he was settling in like he had a reason to be there, like this wasn’t strange.

Had he walked over without you noticing? Had he said something first?

You hadn’t heard a thing.

“Hi,” he said—soft, hesitant.

You blinked.

“Hi?” you echoed, the book still in your hands.

“Hi,” he repeated.

You narrowed your eyes. “Is there… something wrong?” you asked quietly, sneaking a glance toward the girl he’d just left at the other table. She met your eyes, then quickly looked away.

“No, not at all…” he muttered, shifting in his seat.

“Then… may I ask why you’re sitting at my table?”

He sat at the edge of the chair, like he didn’t plan to stay long. He looked almost nervous—almost, because Yoongi never looked nervous. He was always put together, always with his shit together.

“Uhm… yes,” he began, slow and steady, like this wasn’t completely awkward. “You know Summer, I think. She’s right there. She’s… a friend.”

You raised an eyebrow. “A friend?” The laugh threatened to slip out, but you bit it back.

“She’s a big fan of yours,” he said, smoothing his hands over his knees like he needed something to do with them. His voice was careful, almost rehearsed.

“So I’ve heard,” you replied, lips curving into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “That must be fun for you.”

Yoongi let out a quiet breath, eyes closing briefly like he was trying not to react. You watched the flicker of tension in his jaw before he forced his features back into something neutral.

“She’s been asking me for a while… if I could get you to sign something for her.”

“For her?” You tilted your head, just slightly.

He nodded once.

Yoongi was a lot of things, sure—but you never thought he was this much of a fucking idiot.

Honestly, you almost wanted to laugh. The fact that he had the audacity to come over to your table, while you were minding your own business, just to ask for an autograph—for a girl—was nearly hilarious.

Oh, but you were going to make sure he knew that.

“Because she’s my fan, you’re saying?” You asked, just because you wanted another confirmation. Of all the girls Yoongi could date, he chose the one who was your number one fan. He nodded again, this time with more hesitation. “Did you already tell her no? Because that’s my answer.”

“Yes, I already told her no, but she insisted.” He sighed. “Many times, actually.”

“That’s cute.” You smiled, voice laced with amusement. “Did you watch my movies with her too, or was that part too awkward?”

He glanced away, the corner of his mouth twitching like he was biting back a retort. “Come on…”

“I’m not on celebrity duty right now,” you said, flipping the page of your book without looking at it.

“I know, I know…” He sighed again, shifting in his seat. His knee bumped the table lightly. “She didn’t want to bother you. She’s shy. So she asked me. Because… she knows I know you.”

Your eyes stayed fixed on the page, but your mouth twitched.

That was one way to describe you had sex, you wanted to say.

The truth was that you didn’t have a problem with an autograph. It was bitter, you knew, you could easily do it, but you simply did not want to.

“Sounds like you really wanted me to say yes so you wouldn’t have to say no to her.” You pouted.

Yoongi exhaled through his nose, almost a laugh but not quite. “I didn’t think it’d be this hard.”

Well, you were wrong, you thought.

“I told you, I’m practically on vacation.” You leaned back, eyeing him. “I’m not giving you an autograph so you can fuck some chick.”

He shut his eyes for a second, like he was counting to ten. “She’s my mom’s nurse.”

You shrugged. “I’m not giving you an autograph so you can fuck your mom’s nurse.”

He shook his head, biting back a laugh, then ran a hand over the back of his neck. “Can you just—do me a favor?”

“Why would I?” you challenged, chuckling.

He shrugged, voice low. “Honestly? I don’t know, maybe because she likes you.”

“Or because you like her?” you teased, pressing your palms together like you were praying for him. “I mean… doesn’t she mind?” You gave him a squinting look, full of fake concern. “Isn’t she the jealous type?”

“No—well, I don’t know. We’re not... it’s not like that.”

You raised an eyebrow, holding his gaze. “Could’ve fooled me.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, gaze flicking towards Summer, who was pretending not to look over.

He stayed quiet for a moment, staring down at the book in front of you—anything to avoid looking at you.

Then, just as he opened his mouth to plead one last time for the favor, you noticed her. Walking straight towards you, a bright, fixed smile on her face, like she was ready to hug you right then and there.

Before you could blink, Summer pulled a chair and slipped in between the two of you.

She settled into it like she owned the place, her smile steady as she glanced between you and Yoongi.

“Hi, I don’t mean to interrupt, but I felt weird just standing over there,” she said. You stayed there, with your mouth half open, you couldn’t find the words to answer. “I’m Summer, nice to meet you.”

She extended her hand awkwardly, and you hesitated before taking it. Despite what Yoongi said, she didn’t look shy at all.

“Uh… hi?”

She laughed nervously, the bubbly sound filling your ears.

“I hope we’re not bothering you. Yoongi told me you two have been childhood friends.”

You forced a small, polite smile, carefully folding your hands on the table. “Nice to meet you, Summer.” Your voice was calm, but your eyes narrowed just slightly—this was not exactly how you pictured your afternoon going.

Yoongi shifted uneasily in his seat, rubbing the back of his neck like he’d just walked into a minefield. The sight of Summer sitting so close, so casual, made him visibly tense, his usual composure nowhere to be found.

“So,” you said, keeping your tone light but deliberate, “Yoongi mentioned you wanted my autograph?”

Summer’s smile didn’t falter, but there was a hint of nervous energy beneath it. “Yeah, I’m a big fan, I adored you in Dog Days.” she said, glancing at Yoongi for reassurance.

He cleared his throat, eyes darting between you both. “If it’s not too much trouble….” he added, sounding more like he was begging than asking.

You looked at Yoongi through your lashes, silently cursing him for putting you in this position. But then again, he looked like he’d rather be anywhere else, too.

And you, more than anything, wanted to be an asshole and say no. You didn’t owe them anything, you’d been enjoying your time alone before they walked in, before both of them sat beside you like they were invited. You could say no.

You meant what you said: you were on vacation. You didn’t want to be a celebrity here, not now, not after everything that happened with Ian and the press. And even if you knew that signing a piece of paper wouldn’t truly disturb your peace, you still didn’t want to.

Of course, it wasn’t about the autograph. It was about her—bright and sweet and everything you weren’t. And it was about him—sitting with her, making her laugh, trying to impress her with your signature, stumbling to your table like he didn’t know how much it bothered you to see him there.

Well. You had to remind yourself you were trying not to be a bitch.

And sure, you’d agreed to a truce, though at this point, it was starting to feel like bullshit. Why did it seem like this truce benefited him more than you? What was in it for you?

Whatever, it was fine, it wouldn’t kill you to sign an autograph, not completely, at least.

You reached for your bag, and searched for a loose pen between your books.

“Well, I’m not exactly working today, but I suppose I can’t say no to my old friend’s... friend.”

Yoongi let out a relieved breath, though the tension didn’t fully leave his shoulders.

You grabbed a piece of paper and signed it, your eyes catching Summer’s excited smile. You briefly wondered what she was going to do with it.

No one asked you for autographs these days, only outside the theater after a performance, and even then, it was almost always just programs. But you were kind of grateful for that. You could handle signing a piece of paper, but not taking a picture with Summer. She would post it somewhere, tag you, and then maybe you’d have to see it—see the difference between the two of you captured forever, impossible to forget, impossible to erase from your memory.

You didn’t know why you were feeling so insecure, it was like you were fourteen years old all over again, like you were uncomfortable in your own skin.

When you handed her the paper, she smiled and said thank you, and you knew that was your cue to go. You didn’t want to be here anymore.

You grabbed your bag and slung it over your shoulder. “Okay, guys. I’m leaving.”

She looked up at you with wide eyes, visibly disappointed. “Already?” she asked, as if you’d ever planned on staying.

“Yeah, I’ve got work to do at The Alley, you know, the Halloween party and all…” you said. It wasn’t exactly a lie. You had offered to help organize the party. But right now, it made a perfect excuse to get out of this mess.

“Oh, will you be there?” She asked, hopeful.

You pressed your lips together and nodded. “Yeah, of course.” You were obligated to say you were going, even if you changed your mind at the last minute. You and Minnie had agreed it would help boost ticket sales if people knew you’d be there.

“That’s amazing, we’ll be there for sure. Right, Yoongi?” she said, nudging his arm.

Yoongi pinched the bridge of his nose and gave a small nod. “Yeah. For sure.”

You grabbed your wallet and left a tip, ready to leave. “See you, then.”

Then, you walked to the door, stepping outside.

The cold hit you before you even made it down the steps, sharp and bracing — a reminder that it was still autumn, no matter how much someone like Summer could make it feel like June inside.

You tried not to think about it as you crossed the street, going back to The Alley. This wasn’t supposed to happen, this wasn’t how you imagined things happening.

You didn’t want to be in the same room as Yoongi and his new girl. You didn’t want to make small talk, or pretend to be okay with all of it. You’d grown strangely comfortable with your resentment — it had kept you warm, in a way. You’d never really wanted a truce. There was a thought, a bitter little thing, that crept in during your worst moments: if you couldn’t forget, then maybe you didn’t want to forgive either.

You didn’t want him to smile at you, to be polite and correct and show you kindness. You wanted him to look at you and be reminded of every single thing he said to you. You wanted it to make his stomach squirm. You wanted him to avoid your gaze, to feel the need to leave the room every time you walked in — because there was no universe where you could both share oxygen without suffocating each other trying.

It was strange, but you couldn’t stop the thought. You couldn’t stop the feeling.

You wanted a shiver to run down his spine every time he looked at you, because the only thing he could see in your eyes was the memory of that night.

And maybe, by wishing that, you were admitting that the last bits of your sanity had disappeared the moment he offered one of those kind smiles. Because you’d rather know it hurt him to see you than believe he felt nothing at all.

You didn’t look back. But inside, behind the window, Yoongi did.

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