#I promise I didn’t steal /gen

[averagekanadekinnie]

has anyone done this yet 🧍‍♀️

[drifting-pieces-blog-blog]

Nothing and Everything - Part 4

Summary: Certain times of the year are harder than others. This is the first year where they have all been present to face the memories of all the trauma. How can they come together when they each have their own traumas to face?

Pairings: Gen fic (they love Layla and she loves them)

Warnings: Heavy dissociation, Mentions of child abuse, some mentions of violence, Depression, mentions of self harm, mentions of hospitalization, PTSD.

Word Count: 5094

Part four: With the moon boys approaching crisis, Layla has called in an expert. But this expert knows that this is no easy task, after all, he's worked with them before. Is it mission fail or will it work?

Previous Chapter HERE

Jean-Paul sat waiting at a cafe in the high end of London. He had always wanted to try this place. It served croissants that just about melted in your mouth and coffee that reminded him of a night he once spent in Turkey. 

The table was set with a fruit platter, macaroons, a chocolate croissant, and two cups of coffee. He was considering ordering a slice of quiche to top it all off. 

It was extravagant and the bill far exceeded the quantity of the meal, but he didn’t care. He had made a promise to himself after his last mission that he would never deny himself a moment of happiness. 

He was retired. A label that most mercenaries never lived to see. Considering that all his former comrades and friends were in the ground, he took a special moment as he sipped his coffee to savor the moment.

The smell brought him back to bright string lights across a street, vendors lining the path with food and drinks, the bright neon signs that advertised bars and clubs and the dark paths that lead to drugs and other unsavory places. 

Most of all, the taste brought him back to a young man at his side, smiling and laughing as they ate kebab and celebrated being alive. Dark eyes and dark hair, and a smile that was so rare and beautiful… 

Jean-Paul breathed in the smell deeply, holding the cup gingerly. Bitter sweet as it was, the moment was gone, along with the regrets and opportunities that he had let pass him by.

He set the cup down as a familiar head of curls appeared next to his table. 

“Ma chérie… It has been too long.” He smiled up at Layla and gestured to the open seat across from him. 

Layla sat down and looked down at the spread before them. “Jean-Paul, thank you for coming.” 

She immediately picked out a macaroon and bit into it with a sense that she had needed something sweet and wonderful in her life right now. 

He waited for her to settle in, knowing that sometimes you just need to remind yourself that life outside of stress and pain and panic existed. 

At last she sat back and looked up at him with a smile. “How are you? Are you staying here in London?” 

“Ah, we are starting with the small chat?” He smirked and picked up a slice of honeydew. He took a bite and waved his fork vaguely. “I have a lovely hotel that overlooks some favous garden that I could care less about, but it does serve the most wonderful breakfast and the mattress is perfectly firm to support my poor back. I cannot stand these super soft beds people like these days. False decadence, is what it is. I would just as soon sleep on the floor.” 

Layla laughed and reached for a strawberry. “I’m all about the pillows, really. Give me five and I’m happy.” 

“Five? Hmmm… Two for the head, one to hug, one for the hips…Where does the fifth one go?” He smiled sat back in his seat. 

Layla blushed and gave him a mischievous grin. “Depends on if I’m alone or not.” 

Jean-Paul feigned a scandalous gasp. “If only I were straight. I would steal you away from Marc and go on a wild romantic excursion through all of Paris with you.” 

“I have been through enough wild excursions.” She shook her head. “And I am sure there are plenty of men begging you to fly them away.” 

“Not as many as there used to be.” Jean-Paul shrugged. “I’m not as handsome as I used to be. I’m waiting for time to turn me into a silver fox. Perhaps I can turn into someone’s… What do you call it? Candy daddy?”

Layla made a face. “I just call Marc a dirty old man.” 

They burst out laughing, her stress finally melting away and letting her relax for the first time in weeks. 

When the laughter faded, she ordered a cup of coffee and a pastry filled with jam. Her sweet tooth was just as bad as he remembered. 

They chatted a moment about mundane things. Her life in London and work in translation and identification of artifacts. His life in private flights and mechanics. 

They talked about old days and the more recent adventure he had missed in Egypt. Of all the talk, he noted that she kept a wide circle around the actual subject of their meeting. 

At last, she stared down into her cup and found nowhere else to go. “Have you heard from Marc?” 

“No. Not since you all came back from Egypt. It was more of a courtesy call, really. I think he felt bad for ghosting me. Perhaps he feared I too would track him down like an angry ex-wife.” He smiled at Layla gently. 

“Idiot didn’t sign the papers. We were never ex-anything.” She rolled her eyes. “Did he talk to you about…Steven?” 

Jean-Paul took a moment to cross his legs and arms, deep in thought. Perhaps to her, it looked like he was trying to remember. 

In reality, he was deep in memory. 

“Swear to me, mi corazon…. Don’t tell him. He cannot know…” 

A memory filled with dark eyes and a deep regret for things lost. 

“If you are asking if I know about his… condition…” He treaded lightly. 

“Dissociative identity disorder. D.I.D for short.” Layla said it with the air of someone that has had to explain it a lot. “You knew?” 

Jean-Paul looked down into his coffee and at last put the tiger to bed. “I knew about Jake.” 

Layla dropped her fork. “Jake? Jake Lockley? You knew about Jake?” 

He groaned and looked up at her sheepishly. “Please tell me that you know him now. I do not like being the one to cause problems.” 

“Oh, I know about Jake.” Her jaw was firmly set in a line. “That man… That man…” She sat back and shook her head. “It took a long time for me to know about Jake, though. Steven showed up when the whole thing with Egypt happened. It’s how I found Marc when he ran off. Jake took his sweet time to introduce himself to the rest of us. Marc certainly didn’t know.” 

A lot of things were starting to click into place and Jean-Paul laughed softly to himself. “Does Steven happen to sound like a little English fellow? The sweetest smile you’ll ever see? The kind that melts into your heart and makes you wish life were different?” 

Layla stared at him for a long and hard moment before she nodded. “Did you know about Steven?” 

He tapped a finger on the table, knowing full well that the tiger may be in bed but it was still dangerous. “I met him once. We had brunch.” 

She raised an eyebrow and Jean-Paul held up his hands in surrender. “Marc is not as in control as he thinks. When things were hot, of course he was Marc. I would not want to see that sweet English tart out into the things that we got into, either. But when things cooled down… When it was quiet and we went into town to spend money and have fun… Sometimes the quiet could set in and we went to the right town…It was like he couldn’t help but let Steven out to enjoy it.” 

Layla mouthed the phrase ‘sweet english tart’ incredulously. 

“Steven probably thought he was there to have brunch and some strange French tourist randomly joined him. I’d be surprised if he remembered it.” Jean-Paul sipped the coffee with a smile, remembering the smile and the joy. Joy he had never seen on Marc’s face. So open, so beautiful… 

“What about Jake?” 

Jean-Paul picked at his croissant, eating it piece by piece. How much to say? How much did Marc know at this point? 

We have to keep him safe, do you understand? 

“Sometimes things were very hot. Very stressful and we both have our fair share of scars. Sometimes Jake was needed.” He sat back and smiled at the past. “My god that man knew how to fight. Marc was good, but Jake…” He placed a hand over his heart as if to ask it nicely to be still. “Sometimes after the fight, Marc could not settle. We all had troubles sometimes. Things we wished we hadn’t done in the moment… Things I wish I could forget. Jake was there for him. For me. He could help the nightmares fade away.” 

Layla nodded and looked away. “He stayed hidden really well. He saved us in Egypt. Marc had no idea. Denial I suppose. It wasn’t till Steven insisted that someone else was there that we found Jake. Even then, it took a long time for Jake to start to trust us enough to talk.” 

Jean-Paul laughed. “Oh, don’t get me wrong. Jake didn’t just saunter up to me and introduce himself. I was the only one he spoke to of the group. Pretended to be Marc for years. It took time for him to trust me.” 

Layla relaxed a little. Perhaps she had felt insulted or left out at the idea that Jake had so openly been around Jean-Paul when she had been with Marc for years and not known about him. 

“I must be the worst wife in the history of wives.” She hunched down in the chair over her coffee. “Steven and Jake… How do I miss two whole people?” 

Jean-Paul reached across the table and placed a hand on her arm. “Non… Chérie… If people don’t want to be seen, you will not see them. They could be sitting here plain as day and if they don’t want to be known, you will never know them.” 

“How do I help them? If they don’t want help?” She held his hand gently. “Marc is depressed, Steven is depressed, and Jake won’t talk to me. Jake talked to me all the time when things were fine. Now he’s shut up again and I think he’s trying to handle it all on his own.” 

“Is that why you called me?” Jean-Paul leaned forward. 

Layla looked up at him, looking tired and like she was utterly exhausted. “You’re his friend. Maybe seeing you will put him in a better mood. Distract him. Or… Talk him into maybe… getting help.” She sank down, looking ashamed. 

Jean-Paul raised his eyebrows. “You want me to talk Marc into seeking help? Like with a psychiatrist?” 

“Or a therapist.” She mumbled. 

He ran his fingers over his mustache, smoothing it out. “Does he still have a temper?” 

Layla waved a hand in a way that suggested that he still very much had a temper but she didn’t want to say so. 

“You know about his past, right? Has he told you?” Jean-Paul looked at her seriously. 

“He mentioned that he spent some time in a hospital once. He didn’t elaborate and Steven didn’t know anything.” 

He finished his coffee and stared into the empty cup. She didn’t know. It wasn’t his place to tell her. 

Yet, she had come to him for help. Perhaps she sensed something there. Perhaps this was a line she knew she couldn’t cross alone. 

He pulled out a wallet and tossed down enough money to cover the check and tip then stood up. “Finish up here. Don’t let this go to waste.” 

“Where are you going?” She looked up at him in alarm. 

“I’m going to go make sure my affairs are in order before I do this suicide mission.” He muttered and put on his sunglasses and looked up at the English sun. His instincts told him to wait until evening. 

“Thank you Jean-Paul.” She sat back and ate another macaroon. “I owe you.” 

“Mmhmm.” He looked down at her again. “Between you and Marc, I could ask for the world.” 

“Give me a day. I need to plan. You don’t go on a mission like this just jumping in. Text me his schedule, address, and car information. I need time to steak-out the area. And don’t tell him I’m in town.” 

“Thank you. I’ll get you the info you need.” She grabbed her phone to start sending him the info. 

Jean-Paul headed out. “You’re lucky you and Marc are beautiful.” 

A simple mission. He just needed to look at this like it was another mission. Find the target, track the target, get a feel for their movements and come up with the best time and place to ambush him. 

Back in the day, he would have called this sort of mission a breeze. Find one man in the city. Easy. 

The problem was the target. He knew this target. He knew the files that would have come with this target. He would have taken one look at this target and charged a king’s ransom. 

Marc Spector. Not many people who crossed paths with Marc Spector were still alive. Friend or foe, the man was cursed. 

It was enough to make him wish he hadn’t given up smoking. 

He spent the first half of the day walking the paths near Marc’s home. He watched the building and looked up at the window, taking in the view that Marc must have during the day. No one would be able to look into his flat without difficulty, but he could see down into the street easily. 

The location was good. Something discreet yet close to many public transit lines and a lot of good shops. It was obviously chosen with the idea for convenience and discretion. No one could even see who was going in and out of the building without walking down a side street that was narrow and crowded. 

It was clear that Marc had thought this through when going into hiding. It would be unwise of him to approach while Marc was near his home. 

The next thing he had done was locate the car. 

That had taken quite a bit of thinking. Layla had listed several streets where the car could be parked, which implied that he moved it a lot and seldom picked the same location.

Most people would find a good street near their home and keep to it. 

If it had been Marc, he would have parked as far away from home as he could. He might have paid for a spot with cash and kept that spot. The fact that he moved it and parked it in the street and not a garage made him think that this was not Marc’s car. 

When he found the car, he had to change the file on who his target was. 

Jake Lockley loved his car. It was clean and well kept, but it still had enough trash inside and dirt outside to help disguise it from being too obvious of a target. 

Going after Marc was bad enough…But Jake? He would have charged triple his normal asking price back in the day. 

Jake was like trying to find water in the desert. You knew it was there. You could see hints and traces of it having been there, but actually finding it? 

If Marc didn’t want to be found, Marc wasn’t found. If Jake didn’t want to be found, you might as well be looking on the wrong planet. 

He continued down the streets, slowly widening his path until he stopped before a bookstore. It was a small run down looking one with a sandwich board out front and old hand painted signs in the windows. 

He had to double check the addresses that Layla had sent him to make sure he was even in the right place. 

Jake was not a big reader. The man liked to work with his hands and had liked more practical things like newspapers and magazines. He’d even caught Jake working with crossword puzzles and sudoku a few times. 

Marc was a very particular reader. He liked to quote big classics that he had obviously read while in school, but he never touched more modern things. He didn’t read for escapism. His attention span never stayed long enough to dive into a mystery and thrillers hit too close to home. 

Of the three of them, this file scared him the most. An unknown and unpredictable asset. 

He thought back to his brunch. An excursion into London for reasons he didn’t want to think about. Marc had been bothered the whole while there, constantly looking over his shoulder and acting far too distracted for his taste. 

Once the mission was over, he had disappeared altogether. It had been pure chance that he had come across Steven sitting at an outdoor cafe looking pleased as punch to be there. 

Expecting Jake or Marc, he had been fascinated by the childlike joy and wonder Steven had exhibited as he talked about London and how much he wished to live there someday. 

It wasn’t until partway into the conversation when Steven had suddenly quoted something in perfect French that Jean-Paul suddenly got the sense that Steven was incredibly smart and hiding it very well. 

By the end of the conversation, Jean-Paul had felt more than a few heart flutters and was utterly prepared to die for the man. 

What little information he had on Steven, made his head spin. 

Avid reader, researcher, self taught, multi linguistic, and well skilled in the art of negotiation and sass. Not to mention advanced knowledge in Ancient Egypt, poetry, astronomy, puzzles, and according to Layla, a very fast study and pretty good at fighting. 

His only advantage was that Steven had no idea who he was. Yet, Steven left it all out on the table. There was no mystery and Steven did nothing to hide himself. It was Marc that had hidden Seven. Marc that had been so protective of Steven that he had gone to scary and often self destructive tactics to keep the man safe. 

And leave it to Marc to put them all in danger as he chose the most dangerous profession. Keep him safe, as long as Marc didn’t get them killed. 

The more he thought about it, the more he wondered who he was eventually going to approach. How was he going to get them to listen? How did he get Marc to listen? 

Marc, who he knew the best, was also the most trouble he had ever experienced in his life. 

Jean-Paul wondered if Jake might be better to approach, but Jake was so protective of Marc… Not to mention what Jake had told him about his experience with the medical field. 

Any time one of them had been injured enough to mention a hospital, Marc had resisted. At least one occasion had Jake jumping out the back of the truck with a bullet in his shoulder. 

It was time for the next step and the most dangerous one. 

He waited at a safe distance until one of them left the house. He was not prepared for the bombardment of emotions that hit him when he saw those familiar locks of curls. Even from this distance, he could see the dark eyes and familiar shape of his nose and chin. 

Years. How many years had he ridden side by side with this man…These men? 

How long had it been since he last saw them? Since that last moment in the desert with Marc dying and bleeding in the sand? That last moment as he and Layla left on their last adventure? 

Jean-Paul took a moment to compose himself then started to follow at a reasonable distance. 

He knew that walk. The weave between the people as he seemed to slip through them without leaving a trace. He somehow managed to take that body and make it smaller, closed off and impervious to the outside world. 

Jean-Paul pulled back further. Jake would know if he was being followed too closely. 

Jake would also know if Jean-Paul came at him with an ulterior motive and shut him down. 

The day dragged on as he tailed them. He watched Jake get coffee and food at some diner. He watched Jake smile and talk to people that he obviously saw often. 

Did Jake have a life here? No longer hiding in the shadows and popping out when no one was looking? Something he never thought he’d see. 

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t just a little jealous. 

The more he watched, the more he started to realize how free Jake was. His sense of style, the way he moved, and even his relaxed demeanor now that he was no longer expecting to be shot at every second of every day. 

Jean-Paul backed off, slowly letting Jake fade into the crowd. Who was he to bring the past back in when it was clear that Jake wanted nothing but to move forward? 

He pulled out his phone and pulled up Layla’s number. He couldn’t do this. Maybe he was selfishly thinking of his own pain or maybe he just couldn’t stand to see the look of betrayal in his target’s eyes. 

He was about to text her a mission failed status update when he sensed someone standing at his six. 

“It is incredibly hard to tail someone with a mustache like that.” Jake’s accent was no longer strangled out by pretending to be someone he wasn’t. His voice was confident and soft. 

Jean-Paul smiled weakly then looked back at him. “Mon Ami… Tailing was never my specialty.” 

Jake looked him over, hands in his pockets as he contemplated something. “You look good.” 

“I’m alive. Mostly in one piece.” He shrugged. 

Jake hesitated then pointed to the phone. “Layla?” 

“Yeah. Is Marc…?” He felt like an awkward teenager again and he did his best not to show how defeated he felt. 

Jake shook his head. “No, but he’ll be happy to see you. As happy as Marc gets, anyways.” 

Somehow, that made him feel a little better. “Can we talk?” 

Jake shifted his stance then pulled a hat out from his coat pocket. He pulled it on and adjusted it carefully as if it were some sort of ritual. 

He glanced at Jean-Paul and sighed. “Grounding. I don’t want Steven to try anything.” 

“And Marc? Are you keeping him away too?” 

Jake tilted his hat back and gave Jean-Paul a hard look. “Until I figure out why you’re here, yeah.” 

“Fair. Is there somewhere we can go?” He glanced around. “I don’t suppose you’d let me into your flat.” 

“You guessed right.” Jake continued to give him a look that made him sweat. 

“Still playing the protector.” Jean-Paul shook his head. “Come. We are near my hotel. There’s a garden patio I’ve been told is very nice.” 

Jake walked at his side, hands still in his pockets and silent. 

How many times had they sat in silence together? How many times had Jake been forced to stay silent as he pretended to be Marc? How long had it taken Jean-Paul to notice? 

He let the silence be. It was familiar and comfortable. Silence was safe. 

When they reached the hotel, Jean-Paul guided him to the back patio with a fancy garden full of large tropical things that would surely die in the winter and a fragrant rose garden that must have been hell to upkeep. 

Stepping out into the area, Jake paused for just a moment and pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering softly to himself. “No, Pendejo. Go away.” 

Jean-Paul moved to take a seat at a bench and waited. 

Jake sighed and moved to take a seat at his own bench. “Steven likes the flowers. Thinks this place is very fancy.” 

“Fancy enough.” Jean-Paul shrugged. “Reminds me of that place in Brazil a bit. But that’s the problem, isn’t it? Every place reminds you of somewhere else.” 

“Marc hated it there.” Jake shook his head. “He was pretty pissed about the language issue.” 

“I can’t believe he didn’t know they spoke Portuguese.” Jean-Paul smiled. “I’ve never seen a man so confused and angry at the same time.” 

Jake laughed softly then held up a hand. “Enough reminiscing. You’re going to wake him up.” 

He knew Marc wasn’t really sleeping. It was something else. Floating in a void? Hiding in the back room? Jean-Paul didn’t really know, but the way Jake spoke of it, it made it sound like Jake had tucked Marc into bed and was standing watch for nightmares. 

“Do you have a cigarette?” Jake looked at him hopefully. “Steven tossed all mine out. Pretty pissed when he found out about it.” 

“No. I quit a year ago.” He smiled to himself. “I’m six months fully sober come next week. Do you know how hard it is to be a Frenchman and sober? Mon Dieu…” 

There was surprise on Jake’s face. “Everything? I’m impressed. What changed?” 

Jean-Paul looked away. “What was the point of surviving all of that shit if I was just going to kill myself? The drugs weren’t going to bring any of the people I killed back. I had to face the fact that I was miserable and I didn’t want the past to win anymore.” 

Jake took off his hat for a moment and ran a hand through his hair. For just a moment, Jean-Paul got the feeling he was sitting with Marc, nervously wringing his hands as he stared down the demons of his past. 

The hat went back on and Jake shook his head a little. “Layla threw out the alcohol last month. Marc keeps a bottle of whiskey hidden behind the wall. I let him keep it there. He likes knowing that he can trash himself should the need come. I wouldn’t exactly call that sober, but so far he hasn’t broken down and drained it.” 

“Merde.” Jean-Paul laughed. “I kept drugs taped to the back of my ceiling fan for ages. I used to lay there watching the blades spin and wonder how long it would be before I cracked. I didn’t need to use it to be under the spell. My sponsor helped me get it down and flush it when I was finally ready to admit I needed the help.” 

“Can’t flush all our problems away.” Jake muttered. “Marc would have tried to flush himself if that were the case.” 

“That’s sort of why I’m here.” He leaned back a little and looked at Jake fully. It was time to take the leap. “I want to sponsor you…three.” 

“We don’t do drugs.” Jake paused as if asking someone inside just to be certain. “Only Marc drinks and I just need Steven to keep tossing out my cigarettes.” 

“Not that kind of sponsor. Though it would be nice to see Marc give up the drink.” He took a deep breath. “You need help. Layla thinks it’s getting pretty bad. She’s worried.” 

Jake stiffened. The look of terror that flashed across his face shot through Jean-Paul’s heart horribly. It was the look of a man trapped and desperate to escape. The look of a wounded animal that knew it was only a matter of time before it was hurt again. 

“No one’s going to commit you.” He rushed ahead to try and reassure him. “Not unless all of you agree that it’s bad enough to need it. I’m not here to lock you up.” 

Jake swallowed hard. “I have this. I told her I had it. She didn’t have to call you up. I’m sorry I wasted your time.” He stood up and made for the door. “It was nice to see you again, Frenchie.” 

“I spent three months in the hospital.” Jean-Paul stood up. “Self committed.” 

Jake stopped but didn’t turn around. “Because of the drugs?” 

“Because of the memories. The guilt.” He closed his eyes for a moment. “Because I couldn't stop seeing the face of the woman I killed in the crossfire. I was a mercenary before you were. A legionnaire before that. We all did things in our endless search for gold, glory, and attempt to escape the past. I burned down villages before Marc crossed his first battlefield.” 

“Did it help? Do you sleep at night now? Did you forget her face?” Jake looked down and worked his jaw, clenching it till Jean-Paul worried about his dentition. 

“I don’t want to kill myself anymore. I also joined a veteran’s support group. It wasn’t just one thing, but it was the first step for me.” A step that he had struggled with the whole time. One he had wished that someone had been there to support him on. 

“I’m not going to a hospital.” Jake clenched his fists at his side, prepared to fight anyone that disagreed with him. “They don’t know the first thing about our…problem. Half of them think they can drug away the issue and the other half think we’re faking it. And that doesn’t even consider the ones that think it’s fascinating or the ones that think we just need to heal into a full grown singular normal person.” 

“I’m not asking you to go.” Jean-Paul sighed. “I’m asking you to consider the possibility that if you are so far down the hole that one of you tries something… If Marc tries something… You might not get that choice anymore. I don’t want you to get that far.” 

“So what do we do? Hm? Tell me that.” Jake turned to look at him and the anger was gone. “What choice do we have? Do you have any idea how hard it is for someone like us to find the proper help? I can’t put them through that. The let down as yet another so-called doctor or therapist offers the wrong solution or hurts us again. How do I get Marc on antidepressants without Steven being terrified that somehow the drugs are going to make him disappear because he thinks he isn’t real? How do I get Marc to talk to someone without putting up so many walls that even I can’t reach him again? How do I… How…I can’t do it again. I can’t. I have to hold us together. Just let me do this.” 

“Mon ami…” 

“Don’t you fucking dare follow me again, amigo.” Jake turned again. “If I catch you trying to get Steven to agree to any of this, you’ll regret it. Don’t even go looking for Marc. Marc isn’t as forgiving as I am.” 

With that, Jake was gone, once more leaving Jean-Paul alone in the garden. 

Part Five HERE

[pellaaearien]

Small snippet of the WoL returning to the Source for the first time in ShB. Gen, Wolmeric

“You, of course, may return to the Source whenever you wish.”

Eyn’ara let out a quiet sigh of relief. She certainly wasn’t about to abandon her friends in the First but the thought of Aymeric back home not knowing what had happened to her was like a knot in her stomach. 

The Crystal Exarch shot her what somehow managed to be a sly look even from under his hood. “In fact, you could go back now, if you like, using the mirror behind me.”

Eyn’ara shook her head. She did want to find her friends first. Losing them one by one had been torture, and she wasn’t about to turn her back on them now. But she promised herself she wouldn’t keep Aymeric waiting long. 

“I’m going back to the Source.” Eyn’ara projected her best aura of confidence, the way she would sound if she had legitimate business.

And she did. She would see Tataru first, reassure her that their friends were all right — well, as all right as they could possibly be, given the circumstances. But it was not her end goal. 

The Exarch merely nodded. Eyna’ara convinced herself she was imagining his scrutiny. 

“Safe travels,” he murmured. Eyn’ara nodded, turned, and walked through the portal. 

She found herself back in the Syrcus Trench. It was night, and she looked up for a moment at the star-strewn sky beyond the high rock walls, appreciating the darkness as she never had before. Tataru first. Then Aymeric. 

She began to run. 

“You won’t be staying here then?” Tataru asked, too innocently. The tea at Eyn’ara’s elbow was cold; she’d neglected it over the course of too many words, most of them her own. She shook her head. 

“I have to get back to the First.” 

“Of course.” 

Eyn’ara didn’t care what Tataru thought. Thankfully, it hadn’t been that long here while she’d been away but there had been a time after she'd arrived in the Crystarium, however brief, when she hadn't known whether or not she would be able to come back. She needed to see him. 

“Give my regards to the Lord Speaker!” Tataru called after her, but Eyn’ara was already halfway out the door and didn’t deign to respond. 

Aymeric.

Her heart beating a tattoo in her chest, she placed her hand on the aetheryte. In a flash of light, the gloom of Mor Dhona was replaced by the snows of Ishgard. Though she no longer lived in the city, it still felt like a homecoming. Pulling her hood over her head, she made straight for the Aymeric's rooms. 

Scaling the icy bricks of the wall was so familiar to her by now she could do it in her sleep. Once she gained the roof, it was a simple matter to jump across to the balcony. 

Candles were still lit inside: she’d known he wouldn’t be abed, despite the lateness of the hour. Stealing to the door, she tapped on the glass pane. She didn’t have to wait long before the door was thrown open and Aymeric stood before her, clad in a simple shirt and breeches. His hair was mussed like he’d been running his hands through it. 

“Eyn’ara!” he exclaimed, grasping her hands and drawing her inside. “Halone forfend, one of these days my guards are going to shoot you for an assassin.”

“They know me,” she replied, pushing down her hood. “Besides, if they do catch me, I’m slipping. Thancred’s been giving me lessons.” And had been insufferably smug while doing so, though she didn’t mention that part. “The only reason I even bothered visiting this late in the first place is I knew you’d still be up. You work too much.”

“Pot calling kettle, my dearest.” He ran a hand over her cropped hair, a favourite habit of his. Then, without warning, he drew her into a tight embrace. 

With a low sound, Eyn’ara surrendered to his arms. Their visits had gotten ever fewer and farther between even before this whole business of traversing worlds. She’d learned to cherish any stolen moment. 

“I’m so glad you came,” Aymeric breathed. “There was scant news out of Mor Dhona, all of it troubling. Scions up and collapsing one by one. I feared you’d be next.” 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t send word,” Eyn’ara murmured into his shoulder. She loved the way Aymeric’s hugs enveloped her, cradled and safe. “Any time I would try to write I just had no idea of what to say. We knew so little about what was happening. The situation was changing so rapidly I couldn’t speak to what it would be by the time any letters reached you.”

Aymeric drew back to look at her. “But you’re safe?” His ice-blue gaze held hers searchingly, as though he could divine the answer by sight alone. 

Eyn’ara nodded, and he pulled her close again. “We know what was happening, now,” Eyn’ara said — reluctantly, as it meant giving up Aymeric’s embrace. “But it’s a long story.” 

“I’ve time,” he said easily, before bestowing on her a quick, ardent kiss. “I always have time for you.” 

“At what cost to yourself?” Eyn’ara groused, but relented. Her news truly couldn’t wait. She still wasn’t clear on the time differential between the Source and the First and there was too much that needed to be done there for her to dally here. Still, her love deserved some explanation. 

Grabbing a bottle from his desk. Aymeric poured them each a glass of wine. Eyn’ara sniffed hers out of habit before sending him an apologetic look. He just smiled, encouraging her to begin. 

“And so they would put the weight of yet another world on your shoulders,” Aymeric muttered, when she’d finished. Eyn’ara wasn’t sure she’d been meant to hear. She leaned back and sighed, downing the last of her wine (an excellent vintage, as to be expected). 

“I am the Warrior of Light,” she said, by way of explanation.

Aymeric just shot her a look. They’d been sitting companionably, knocking shoulders on the settee, now he waited for her to set her empty flute down before slipping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her into his side. 

“They ask too much of you,” he said. He smiled, self-deprecatingly. “Of course, I’m free to say as much now that I’m no longer the one doing so.”

Eyn’ara smirked up at him. “I never minded when it was you,” she said, and Aymeric’s expression settled to something softer. 

“I’ll admit to some relief at that,” he said. “It has never escaped my attention that I am simply one in a long line of others who needed something from you.” 

“You were different,” Eyn’ara told him, pressing a kiss to his jaw. As Aymeric chuckled, she leaned further into him. “Apart from anything else, you actually solved your problems. I haven’t been called back here for a freak dragon attack or anything.”

He laughed louder. “No, indeed. Sometimes I long for the days when our problems were so simple.” He stretched leisurely, and Eyn’ara took the opportunity to let her eyes trace the strong length of him. “Our problems are now of the negotiating table, and though I would be the last to dismiss your labours, cannot be as summarily dealt with.”

Eyn’ara snorted. “I could still try to hit them with my axe.”

“Don’t tempt me,” Aymeric said, and pulled her closer still.

[projecthipster]

Fight Club, by Chuck Palahniuk

This being a stock photo is very enjoyable to me.

“We are God's middle children, according to Tyler Durden, with no special place in history and no special attention. Unless we get God's attention, we have no hope of damnation or redemption. Which is worse, Hell or nothing?”

"A bit 2edgy4u, but neat ideas about how angry men be angry. Didn’t care a lot for the terse, repetitive writing style to start but I got used to it as the threads came together to the intense climax. And it’s short, so not like it was a huge investment."

Ok, so that’s a pretty terse review. Ironically, considering that “terse, repetitive writing” was one of my criticisms. That was, directly copy-pasted, the review I posted on Goodreads after finishing Fight Club early last year. For a proper Project Hipster post I ought to expand it. And yet— I actually think that covers it pretty well. Let’s break my terse review of this terse novel down into its aspects, then, and see what I meant, in less terse words, and let’s see whether a year and a half to think things over has changed my thoughts. Terse doesn’t sound like a word anymore.

A bit 2edgy4u, but neat ideas about how angry men be angry

The aspect of Hipsterdom that I’ve never gravitated so much towards is that which stems from angsty postmodern 90s Gen X disillusionment, and as I mentioned back in my first Radiohead review, Palahniuk is kind of the epitome of that. And he does do it well.

Maybe I’m just too young to have lived through it, but I can empathize with it. The routine of life in a bullshit job under Capitalism Victorious is as mind-numbing now as it was then, I know well, and the now laughable late millennium rhetoric of the End of History must have added a particularly different sort of catalyst for mental illness. While today it’s the chaos of the world that fills us with anxiety, its seeming stability in the age of Fight Club must have created another sort of dread, living with the apparent surety that this world of fluorescence and linoleum was the ultimate aspiration of society, and now that it had arrived, it would carry on forever. I need the darkness, someone please cut the light!

Is it any wonder, then, that Palanhiuk’s pointedly nameless narrator falls into a sleepless spiral of desire for chaos, wanting to “wipe his ass with the Mona Lisa” and break beautiful things just to experience the thrill of change? That spiral leads the narrator into Project Mayhem, the anarcho-fascist cult of Tyler Durden, a mysterious, rebellious drifter who may be more than he seems, and promises an escape from monotony through rebellion, ascending over the short course of the novel from pranks to terrorism.

A lot of the discourse around this book and its adaptation centres on that always-crucial question – in stories about men lashing out in anger, how much are we meant to agree? The ending of Fight Club (the book, at least; we’ll come back to that point) makes it pretty clear that Palahniuk is hardly holding up Tyler Durden as a role model. But he comes from a place motivated by genuine criticism of a heartless society. Palanhiuk says that its’ “about a lonely person looking for some way to connect with other people." It’s a cautionary tale, then, about the fallout of loneliness and toxic masculinity, but where’s the line that morality is transcended in favour of rage? For the narrator, it’s another character’s death. For the reader, should it be the same? Or earlier? These are interesting, worthwhile questions! I have no definitive answers to them. There are interesting metaphors here, too, like how Tyler steals human fat from lipo clinics, literally the offcast fat of the fattening system, and uses it to make his weapons.

Palahniuk was himself a member of something called the Cacophony Society, which sounds a lot like Project Mayhem purely in name, but reading up on it makes it sound a lot less intense, given that it’s more of an unincorporated counter-cultural arts group. Cacophonists allegedly created Burning Man, paint Banksyesque street art, perform satirical Christmas carols, and disrupt the rush by blocking traffic to host picnics open to all visitors. Oh, and, uh, write edgy novels. Sounds fun, actually. Sounds like that’s a much healthier response to the same things that drive the characters in Fight Club to violence. Apparently the Cacophony Society itself stems from an earlier San Fransisco secret society called the Suicide Club, which focused mostly on urban exploration and the benefits of thrill-seeking.

Didn’t care a lot for the terse, repetitive writing style to start but I got used to it

Yeah, I still think this to some degree. I just prefer purpler prose, on a personal level. But I can respect Palanhiuk’s stylistic choices, to the point that they seem to be impacting these very sentences as I type them. Quotes from Fight Club in my mind are right now bleeding into the way I tackle my own keyboard. One maybe generous interpretation of Fight Club’s writing style is that it’s a window into the narrator's deteriorating mental state. When we’re working around sleepless nights, and when stress and anger are eroding reason into base fight-or-flight instinct, none of us are thinking in full sentences. It helps somehow to know that there’s a name and history for this style as well. Palahniuk was a disciple of Tom Spanbauer, who in Portland, where lives the dream of the 90s, taught the style he called “dangerous writing.” Spanbauer defines the style’s tenets as minimalism, realism, and writing from painful personal experience. In a way it’s very similar to Hemingway’s “one true sentence” approach. It’s another swing of the pendulum in the same direction, I suppose. As Hemingway was reacting against the Romantics, Spanbauer and Palahniuk were reacting to the maximalist “hysterical realism” of David Foster Wallace and Zadie Smith (who I also like.) It’s a style. Can’t fault style for consistency. In terms of repetition, I’m referring of course to the very prominent motifs, like the narrator's constant (and it is constant) reframing of the Reader’s Digest feature “I am Joe’s…”

as the threads came together to the intense climax

And what a climax. I should preface by saying that somehow I’ve still never actually seen the movie. Through cultural osmosis, though, I knew the twist. If you don’t, stop reading. Despite Publishers Weekly calling the twist “particularly bizarre,” despite the use of then-obscure dissociative identity disorder to justify its mechanics, it’s fairly simple in concept. This character seems to be the character’s secret ambitions manifested ad extremis. And it turns out that’s exactly what he is. It’s one of those devices that leads every scene to be read two ways, which is always good, and it makes the climax thrilling. I also know how the movie ends differently. I think in terms of themes I prefer the book version, but I understand why it was changed to a more visually dramatic ending for the movie. I also think it’s pretty funny that the Chinese release of the movie wasn’t allowed to show Project Mayhem succeeding, so it cuts out the end in favour of essentially telling the book ending in captions.

And it’s short, so not like it was a huge investment.

Unlike this post. Sorry. Good thing I don't write these with the assumption that anyone will ever read them.

I give this hipster book four disillusioned white men out of five.

Project Hipster is a futile and disorganized attempt to dive into the world of things that the internet has at some point claimed "are hipster," mostly through ListChallenges search results.

This review comes from the ninth list, Essential Books For Hipsters.

Next up: a more lighthearted movie that can still make you cry.

Stay deck.

[itsamejin]

easy || jungkook angst/fluff

Summary: Date you, win a bet, get his rent paid off. Sounds promising enough, right? Jungkook should’ve known that his ambitions would end in disaster, but even if he did, that still wouldn’t have stopped him from pursuing you.

Warning: cursing, crude humor, fuckboy talk

Genre: college!au, fuckboy!au, bet!trope, angst, fluff

Pairing: Jungkook x female!reader

Premise: In which Jungkook accepts a bet from Taehyung to date the first girl that walks into the lecture hall and realizes that he bit off more than he could chew when starts to catch feelings. Now, he has to suffer the consequences of being an idiot.

Commission Request: @altus-gens​

Word Count: 9,203 words

—

It's not like Jungkook planned to be one of the most sought after person in Yonsei University, but it somehow turned out to be that way. Truthfully, he basks in it, loves that so many people idolize him for doing the bare minimum. He was handsome after all and had a level of charm that surpassed the need to have a good personality. 

He got into such a prestigious school through an athletic scholarship for Taekwondo, managed to convince his professors to pass him when he put in minimal effort, and there was no shortage of girls to call when he was feeling lonely for a night. He was the stereotypical 'it' boy on campus and maybe if he was a little bit smarter, he'd have a better choice of friends than the six idiots he always hangs around with.

"How about this," Taehyung starts, gum in his mouth, "the first girl who walks in, you have to successfully get in her pants."

Jungkook rolls his eyes. They were in a damn lecture hall and yet Taehyung had no shame bringing up sex. Typical.

“This again, bro?” Hoseok sighed. “Aren’t you sick of bribing us to do weird shit for you?”

Taehyung smirked.

“Not at all, actually.”

"For how much?" Namjoon cut in, probably curious for the price point Taehyung would arrange this time. He was fired from his job just a week ago and could really use the money. "I'll do it if it’s enough to pay for my rent this month."

Taehyung scoffs, although knowing full well he could pay for all of the boys’ tuitions combined if he wanted to. He was the resident rich bachelor on campus after all.

"I'll pay it for a full year and your utility bills too if you're really down," Taehyung flaunts. "You just gotta have proof you actually managed to do it."

"Dude that's gross," Seokjin chimes in, "No one wants to send you proof of us doing it with a random girl."

Taehyung shakes his head.

"No, no, no," he says, clicking his tongue. "I phrased it incorrectly. I’m not a fucking pervert."

“You got us fooled,” Jimin mutters. 

Taehyung leans in closer to the six boys and even Jungkook finds himself getting intrigued. Admittedly, he was a little curious considering he hasn't had a proper meal in weeks. He could really use having some extra cash for food without worrying about rent.

"You have to date the girl for like three months," Taehyung says seriously, "and I'll consider that as enough proof that you managed to actually do it since I know you guys are too horny to wait any longer than that to fuck."

They all look at Taehyung in disgust, Jimin even opting to hit him in the back of the head for being so vulgar. To be fair, they were all thinking of accepting Taehyung's bet regardless. It's not like they were new to leading girls on anyway.

"You gotta pay me more than that to fuck just any girl," Yoongi says, yawning in the process. He seemed the least likely to take up Taehyung's offer, but he was still game depending on the person.

"Then how would you feel," Taehyung starts, "if I told you guys that I could get you priority registration for next quarter."

The boys, even the ones who weren't interested, were now listening to Taehyung's every word.

"You mean," Hoseok gulps, "I could finally get that fucking Organic Chemistry class I need to get out of this hell hole?!"

Taehyung shrugs, an ominous smile on his face.

"Just the perk of having parents who have connections," Taehyung replies. “I’ll only accept one of you guys to do it though. I don’t wanna have you all fucking the same girl- that’d be weird.”

Hoseok rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, that’s what’s weird about this,” he grumbles.

“So are you guys in or not?” Taehyung asks, his patience growing thin.

He lays back on his chair, a smoldering look on his face when they all nod. They were desperate for money after all.

"The next girl that walks in will be the subject of this bet and whoever calls dibs on her first will be the one to woo her,” he says with a stretch of his arms. “Good luck boys.”

They all turned to look at the door and Jungkook watches silently as guy after guy walks into the lecture hall. No girl yet. 

Jungkook was hoping, from the bottom of his heart, that no familiar faces would walk in. If he had to deal with a past fling, he’d have to back out immediately. He never dealt with exes very well.

The guys are at the edge of their seats, praying for a cute girl to walk through that didn’t already know about their horrible reputation. They were looking for an easy target, someone that could fall for their charms almost immediately.

And then, you walk in. You were clad in sweats with earphones on, rushing toward the front row seats of the lecture hall. You were chatting with your friends, yawning several times throughout your conversation with them. Jungkook couldn’t help but smirk. There was nothing special about you to point out, in fact, you were just like everyone else. Strangely enough, he found that the most intriguing part about you.

"Nope, nope, nope," Jimin shakes his head repeatedly. "Can't, won't, never will. Sorry, Tae."

They all stare at him in confusion.

"What the fuck, what's wrong with her?" Yoongi asks, crossing his arms over his chest. Jimin faces away from you, not wanting to look at you any longer.

"No, nothing," there seems to be a blush forming on his face. He was hiding something.

“Bullshit,” Taehyung furrows his brows. “Bro, if she’s crazy and one of us gets our dick bitten off, we’re all blaming you, so spit it out.”

Jimin just sighs.

"She's been giving me Professor Kwon’s notes for the past few weeks,” he starts, much to the confusion of his friends. “Her name is [Y/N]. It'll be really mean if I go after her, especially since she and I are kind of friends. Plus, I really need to pass this class. I failed last quarter..."

The boys groan. Jimin was no fun.

"She's not my type so I don't think I could really get into it either," Seokjin states, no longer interested in the prize after Jimin’s confession. He’s been banking off of your notes from him too. 

"Aren’t we all old enough to know not to mess with people’s feelings?" Hoseok sighs.

They roll their eyes at Hoseok’s statement. Who was he trying to fool with the nice guy act? He probably fooled around with girls just as much as the other guys did.

"Yeah, I’m backing out," Yoongi agrees, "and she hates me so there's that."

They all look at him questioningly and he puts his hands up in the air from their gazes.

"What? I just realized who she’s talking to down there.”

He pointed at a girl discreetly, but no one seemed to recognize her.

“Her friend and I dated,” Yoongi continues, “and I broke up with her over text and blocked her without letting her respond. That whole friend group is pretty much pissed at me. I'd rather not have to deal with them again."

The guys look disapprovingly at him. Breaking up over text was harsh, but probably not the worst thing Yoongi has done to his exes.

"You're actually a piece of shit," Namjoon sighs. "I really do need my rent paid though..."

Jungkook nods in agreement. It's been almost impossible to balance Taekwondo practices, college papers, and working a part-time job all at once. If he could somehow find a way to quit his job for a while and get priority registration for classes, then he doesn't mind getting his hands a little dirty in the process. Plus, you were cute enough and he's sure you weren't too difficult to befriend as long as he doesn't mention Yoongi in any conversations.

"I'm in," Jungkook chides, finally saying something after such a long period of silence.

They all look at him with disbelief in their eyes. Jungkook was never the one to partake in Taehyung's bets. In fact, he was the one usually ridiculing them for participating. He must have been really desperate if he was willing to do it.

"I mean, it's all yours if you want," Namjoon replies, "I don't wanna turn it into a competition.”

“Don’t worry dude,” Jungkook fist bumps Namjoon, “I’ll quit my job and refer you for it.”

They nod at each other as if they were on the same wavelength. 

“I knew I could rely on you,” Namjoon says, faking tears from his eyes. The boys groan in response.

“Alright,” Taehyung claps his hands. “In exchange for providing me some mindless entertainment and going out with [Y/N], you will get your rent paid for the rest of the year and get early registration for next quarter. Sounds like a pretty sweet deal to me.”

Jimin shakes his head.

“I don’t know about this, guys...”

Jungkook doesn’t hear him and instead takes one last look at you. You catch him in the corner of your eye and you can’t help but feel flustered at his serious expression. 

“Should be easy enough,” he mutters to himself and turns his gaze back onto his friend.

“So we have a deal?” Taehyung asks.

He smirks, shaking the outreached hand Taehyung held out for him. He steals another glance at you and he finds you staring right back. He gives you a wink.

“Deal.”

—

Jungkook slid into the seat next to yours in the campus canteen, his eyes filled with determination. His posture was laid-back, but it was a little too obvious that he was trying to act like he didn’t care.

“Hi,” he greets you in a breathy tone- girls loved it when he spoke with his breathy tone.

“Hi?”

You’d been sensing that someone was staring at you during the lecture, but you thought that was just the paranoia that came from being near such an intimidating group of guys. Turns out, you should always trust your instincts.

Jungkook had a boyish grin on his face that made you want to smile back but also stare at him in disgust.

“I heard you help Jimin with Professor Kwon’s notes,” he whispers mischievously. “I’m struggling myself, actually...”

Not really, but you know. This was the easiest tactic to approach you- tackle your similarities. You nod understandingly at his words, not quite getting that he was flirting with you.

“Yeah I can send you the Google Drive folder,” you comply, taking your phone out. “But you can’t let Professor Kwon know or else he’ll flip out. He doesn’t want people to have the notes for some odd reason...”

You trail off but Jungkook just scoffs. You seemed clueless.

“That’s not what I necessarily meant,” he says, a little shy this time. “I need a tutor.”

You furrow your brows at him.

“Yeah, you’re gonna have to pay me for that,” you say seriously. The last time you offered to tutor someone for free, they ended up blaming you for their failing grade and screaming about it all over social media. You needed money to compensate for that emotional trauma. “Microeconomics is hard to teach.”

“Well thankfully I’m a good student,” Jungkook teases. You stare at him with a deadpan face.

“You wouldn’t need my help if you were a good student,” you say blankly, standing up from your seat. “My hourly rate is 20,000 Won. Take it or leave it.”

Jungkook’s eye twitched. He had to spend his money to get Taehyung’s money? Well, the payout would be worth it in the end anyway. He reaches out a hand to you.

“If you’d have me,” he says cheekily, looking up at you. You take his hand in yours and maybe for a second you felt your heart skip a beat, but that was soon over when you let go of him.

“You have sweaty hands,” you say straightforwardly. You wipe your hand on your shirt and he coughs awkwardly at how unresponsive you truly were. Didn’t Jimin say you were a nice person? 

You take your barely-touched lunch tray and walk away from his pensive figure.

“Wait, can I get your number?” he yells. You don’t look back.

“Alright, whatever,” he mumbles to himself. “I’ll just ask Jimin, I guess.”

Without even a second glance, you disappear from his sight. He sits back on his chair, heaving out a deep sigh. Sure, this wasn’t the first girl that didn’t care much for his advances, but you didn’t even crack a smile or anything. This is going to be harder than he thought...

—

“She hates me,” Jungkook whines to Seokjin as they walked down the university halls to their next shared class. “Yesterday, I went up to her to get her number and I left with a fucking debt. Does that make any sense?”

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t have taken on the bet,” Seokjin yawned. “Namjoon would have wooed her with his poetry by now or some shit.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, I’m sure she’s interested in a dude who can’t even put on a hat without causing an earthquake.”

Seokjin smacked him on the back.

“At least he’d have the guts to say no to having a fucking tutor,” Seokjin replies. “You dug your own grave, man. Now roll around in it.”

“Do you want me to succeed or not?” 

“I want you to not be a fucking dumbass, Jungkook,” Seokjin sighs. “Do you really wanna make your reputation worse than it already is?”

Just as Jungkook was about to reply, he catches a glimpse of you walking farther ahead in the university courtyard. You were a bit far but he’s sure he could make it if he hurries. He smacks the binder he held in his right hand onto Seokjin’s chest.

“Yo, can you cover for me,” he asks hastily and Seokjin stares at him with a concerned gaze. He watches as Jungkook takes off his backpack and leaves it on the ground. Jungkook looked about ready to break out in a sprint.

“What the fuck, why?” Seokjin questions.

“Just tell the TA I’m out for a bit,” he says in response, already running ahead to catch up to you. “I’m winning this fucking bet or I’ll die trying.”

Jin stands still, mouth agape. Jungkook really left him with his backpack and binder just to talk to you. He shakes his head. ‘I need to make new friends,’ he thought to himself, picking up the discarded backpack and walking in the direction of the class Jungkook was planning to be late to.

You were walking with your earphones on, not noticing someone sprinting at you in record speed. You only turn your music off when Jungkook stops in front of you, his hands on his knees. He was panting heavily.

“Hey,” he says through deep breaths. You nod at him awkwardly.

“Why are you running?”

“I wanted to... catch up to you... and I thought... you were closer... but the run here... took... fucking... forever,” he says breathlessly. “Water. I need water.”

You take out a bottle from your tote bag hastily, handing it to him. He took it into his hands, grazing your fingers a bit. As he was about to start chugging it, you halted him.

“Waterfall,” you say curtly- you were still planning to drink out of it later after all. 

He nods in response, a drop of sweat cascading the side of his neck. After he was done, there was practically no water left anyway. ‘I’m gonna have to refill it myself,’ you thought begrudgingly. You stuff it back into your bag and wait until his breaths become more even.

“A bit out of shape, huh?”

He scoffs and gives you a glare, clearly offended.

“I actually have a Taekwondo scholarship, you know that? I just wasn’t warmed up and I’m naturally sweaty so it’s not like-”

You laugh a little.

“I’m joking,” you say, a smile adorning your face. He feels his face turn red and he can’t help but purse his lips out of embarrassment. Jeon Jungkook couldn’t take a fucking joke.

“O-oh,” he says shyly, avoiding your gaze. Why was he acting more like an idiot than usual? You hear the chiming bells of the university tower and stare at your phone to check the time.

“Don’t you have a class?” you ask him. His eyes widen and soon he was dashing off again. He turns around mid-run, jogging backward to face you.

“My number is 06-1313-9197,” he yells, loud enough for the other late students in the courtyard to hear. Most of them roll their eyes, knowing that Jungkook was flirting with another girl yet again. You’re embarrassed by the amount of attention he’s getting, but punch his number on your phone anyway.

“Text me,” he shouts. “I’ll always respond to you.”

Now it was your turn to be flustered.

—

"That’s wrong,” you say, reaching over to Jungkook’s notebook and marking a large ‘X’ on his paper. “You’re not supposed to apply that function for this problem...”

Jungkook stared at you with a tired face. He didn’t think he was too bad at the mathematical aspect of Microeconomics, but it seemed like it was your life’s mission to make him look like an idiot. Of course, you caught every mistake that he made- even the ones he made on purpose just to see if you were really paying attention to his work and not bamboozling him.

“My bad,” he mutters, copying down the same problem on a different sheet of paper. He didn’t even get a chance to make a move on you today- not like he could make any big developments in the campus library anyway.

“Is it like this?” he asks, tilting his notebook to face you. You take a hard look at it and nod.

“Yeah, just make sure you know the difference between these two formulas, or else you’ll mess up on the midterm,” you say thoughtfully.

This was your fourth or fifth tutoring session by now? Truth be told he wasn’t really counting. Each moment he spent with you kind of blended together and he didn’t quite know if that was a bad thing or not.

“You know you’re not even struggling,” you say, your nose buried deep in your textbook. “It’s not like you’re completely clueless like Jimin. It seems like you’re wasting money on stuff you already know.”

Jungkook laughs heartily, getting shushed by the people around him. He really was stupid, wasn’t he?

“Yeah, well, it was just an excuse to hang out with the pretty girl in class, you know?” he says as nonchalantly as he could. You stare at him for a second and he swears he feels his body freeze over. If looks could kill...

You just shook your head with a click of your tongue and got back to reading.

“The pretty girl in class is most definitely not me,” you grumble. “If you wanted, I could’ve given you Soobin’s number without all the added hassle of you trying to come talk to me-”

“Woah, woah, woah,” Jungkook stops you from saying anything else. He looked worriedly at your face. “I don’t even know who the hell Soobin is, why would I want her number?”

You look at him and finally, you chuckle. ‘She really does have a nice smile,’ Jungkook thought to himself. It would be nice if he could make you laugh more often and not just on rare occasions like this.

“You’re saying you don’t know Yoongi’s ex?” you tease slightly. You were finally letting your guard down with him and Jungkook smirked. One wall down, another million more to go.

“Bold of you to assume that I know any of Yoongi’s exes,” he says and you scoff. “He’s an asshole when it comes to dating.”

You roll your eyes.

“Isn’t that your whole friend group?”

He pouts. You knew of his reputation after all. Jungkook thought he could get away playing a nice boy act, but it didn't seem possible considering your knowledge of him. A little white lie couldn’t hurt in the end.

“Not me,” he replies. “I choose my relationships pretty carefully.”

You take a glance at him before jotting down a few more words in your notebook.

“Well,” you start off, a little shy to admit what you were about to say, “I guess we both have that in common.”

He tilts his head rather cutely out of confusion.

“What do you mean?”

You cough awkwardly, adjusting yourself on one of the library’s notoriously squeaky seats.

“I’ve never really had a boyfriend before,” you say quietly. His eyes bulge out from their sockets.

“You’re lying.”

“No, I’m not,” you say, a hint of amusement in your voice.

“Like, you’ve never been on a date or what?”

“I have,” you say hesitantly. “I’ve been on a few but they just never led into anything serious. I was pretty focused on studying in high school so there weren’t really any opportunities to get involved with someone. Plus, the guys who pursued me weren’t very... attractive.”

Jungkook laughs loudly again, much to the dismay of the other students in the library. He liked that you didn’t beat around the bush- it was easier to talk to you that way.

“And me?” he asks teasingly, laying his head on his arm that was atop the desk. He looks up at you with that boyish grin of his that gave you small butterflies in your stomach. You stare back at him, but only for a second. You ignore his watchful gaze and continue to flip through your textbook, trying to find the passage you last read. He keeps his eyes locked on you and you just couldn’t resist.

“What about you?” you ask, feigning ignorance.

“Am I attractive?” he replies as bluntly as he could. You stop your movements and he chuckles.

“You’re... cute,” you settle on that word. Cute. It was safe enough to not be misinterpreted too much. He sits up straight with a satisfied smirk. He takes his pen and draws a heart on the side of your notebook. He winks at you when you stare back at him, puzzled by his actions.

“You are too.”

—

“Tell me you’re lying,” Soobin whines disappointingly, shaking your shoulders. You were trying to eat lunch undisturbed in one of the campus cafes but your two friends seem hell-bent on making you suffer. “There’s no way you’re friends with Jungkook.”

You sigh, attempting to rid yourself of Soobin’s grasp but to no avail.

“He’s an asshole, [Y/N],” Gaeun sighs disappointingly. “I thought you were a feminist, why the fuck do you even tolerate him?”

You glare at her for a split second before going back to prying Soobin off you.

“Jungkook has no respect for women or himself. It shows in how many shitty friends he has,” Soobin chants, still clearly bitter that Yoongi dumped her.

You shake your head, rolling your shoulders back when she finally lets go of you.

“Jungkook’s not even as bad as you guys describe him,” you reply. “He’s actually been really sweet.”

The girls take a glance at each other and burst in a fit of laughter.

“You must be out of your damn mind,” Gaeun cries. You cower slightly at their words. It’s not like you said anything that controversial, did you?

Soobin slaps Gaeun on the shoulder when she realizes how your face had soured. It wasn’t right to judge you for your choice of friends so harshly, no matter how horrid said person was.

“As long as it doesn’t go past friends,” she says soothingly, but that only made you feel worse.

“Why?” you ask a little hesitantly. “Does Jungkook sleep around?”

Gaeun nods, a worrying glimpse in her eyes.

“He's not exactly the type to kiss and stay...”

You nod understandingly. You weren’t too clueless to believe Jungkook when he said he was “careful” on who he dated. As long as you knew the boundaries that came with being his tutor, everything should be fine... right?

“Don’t worry guys,” you say with determination. “I’m not the type to get played-”

“Of course you are!” Gaeun sighed. “Guys gravitate towards girls like you who lack experience. Jungkook’s a fucking weirdo, of course, he’s gonna try and-”

“[Y/N]!” a shout from across the cafe screams. That distracted you from the various insults Gaeun was spewing from her mouth. You get that she was being critical of Jungkook, but did she have to speak ill of you too?

You look around and catch Jungkook waving frantically at you. He stops at your table and takes a mere glance at your friends before setting his focus on you. 

“Do you have time to help me out today? One of the papers for my writing class-”

“You tutor him in writing now, too?!” Soobin exclaimed, mouth agape. “[Y/N], what the fuck.”

You try to ignore your friend’s overreaction, a little disheartened when Jungkook looked hurt at their words. He had started to shy away from them as if he didn’t feel welcomed.

“Nevermind, I’ll just ask you later-”

“Actually,” you say standing up. “I’m free now.”

The two girls look back and forth between you and Jungkook, noticing the stars in your eyes when you looked at him. They did not like the thought of you two together at all.

“But [Y/N]-” 

You ignored their words and start to walk away, hoping Jungkook would come catch up to you. You didn’t quite know why their insistence on him being a bad person had made your blood boil. It wasn’t like you weren’t aware of his flirtatious tendencies, but hearing from your friends that you shouldn’t pursue a guy that you liked-

You stopped in your tracks and feel heat climb up your face. Like.

No way you admitted that just now. There’s no possible way you actually like-

“Hey, wait up,” Jungkook pants, his hand touching your shoulder. “Why do you walk so fast for-”

He sees your shocked face and turns you towards him, his hands on your shoulder similar to how Soobin had shaken you just earlier. Except this time, it felt comforting. It made your whole body feel warm as if you were coated with a weighted blanket. Was he always this gorgeous?

“What’s wrong?” he asks, inspecting your face closely. “You look like you just saw a ghost.”

“N-nothing,” you swipe his hands away and rush out the door of the cafe. He smirks at how flustered you look, maybe he did have an effect on you after all.

Jungkook takes a last glimpse at the two girls who sat in their seats, staring at him disapprovingly. He raised an eyebrow at them and shoved his hands in the pocket of his jeans, following after you. ‘They’ll try to get in the way,’ Jungkook thought to himself, ‘but they’re already too late.’

The girls clenched their fist out of annoyance. He was definitely trying to get on their nerves.

“There’s something strange about what’s happening,” Gaeun mutters.

“They’re up to something,” Soobin agrees. “I don’t trust him at all.”

—

It’s been a week since you last spoke to your friends, not really wanting to read the messages they bombarded you with about how you should stay for away from Jungkook. It was hard to take any of their advice seriously when they were just badmouthing him without reason. They based all their opinions on him from rumors around the school and Soobin always felt the need to compare him to Yoongi even though they both had very different personalities. Well, at least to you they seemed very different.

Frankly, you were sick of their nagging and just turned off notifications from that group chat altogether. Instead of sitting next to them during Microeconomics, you opted to sit with Jungkook in the back of the lecture hall instead of at the front with them. Jungkook had abandoned his own rowdy friend group to sit with you and flashed them quick smirks and winks whenever they’d stare at him. 

Slowly, Jungkook had started to become a constant in your day to day life. You walked to class with him, ate with him, played video games with him. It was sort of strange how used to you were of his presence, like you had known him your whole life. Jungkook snaps you out of your thoughts when he starts humming a little tune.

He draws a heart in the corner of your notes- which you find he has a habit of doing whenever he wanted to say something stupid.

“I don’t get what he’s saying,” he pouts cutely. “It’s like he’s speaking a foreign language.”

You shake your head, not paying him any mind.

“Well maybe if you actually paid attention,” you mutter softly. He scoots closer to you and you feel yourself stiffen.

“But you’re tutoring me later on anyway,” he says teasingly. “I get more bang for my buck if I know less.”

“Bang for my buck,” you scoff. “Who even says that anymore?”

He points at himself nonchalantly and you can’t help but crack a smile as you continue to focus on the professor’s words. You don’t even cower under his gaze like you usually do when he stares at you with those puppy dog eyes.

“What do you want?” you ask, finally caving when Professor Kwon adjusted something in his PowerPoint slides. He smiles.

“I want to hold your hand,” Jungkook replies and you could feel your palms clam up. His flirtatious comments increased as time passed and you didn’t really quite know whether he was just teasing you or if he was genuinely interested in you. You weren’t very good at taking a hint.

“I’m writing right now...” you reply, slightly skipping a beat in your note-taking. He really was the ultimate distraction, wasn’t he?

Jungkook pouts sadly, but you can tell an idea pops up in his mind when his eyes start to glimmer. He sits his hand on your thigh and you jolt back from the touch of his hand on the material of your jeans. He pulls away slightly, scared that he had made you uncomfortable.

“I just want to put my arm around you,” he asks innocently. “Are you okay with that?”

You calm yourself down and nod. For goodness sake, you weren’t a child- why did a hand on your thigh make you so nervous for?!

“Yeah,” you say, a little more confident despite your nerves. “Go ahead.”

He smiles softly at you and connects his hand to your waist, pulling you a little closer to him. It was comforting, not at all meant to be more than just a public display of affection. He finds himself getting lost in the lecture along with you, his hand playing with a loose thread on your shirt through it all. He didn’t even look at his friends who were teasing him on the other side of the class or your own friends shooting daggers into his being.

At that moment, it was you, him, and Professor Kwon giving out a lecture that had half of the students already asleep. He smiled at how diligently you worked and how your breath would quicken when Professor Kwon switched the slides without a warning. It was the little idiosyncrasies like this that caught his attention, the kind of things that made him wonder where you’d been all his life.

The smile on Jungkook’s face disappeared when he came to that realization.

Fuck.

—

Jungkook rolls around the grass while you sit on the picnic blanket you two had set up. Midterms were over and grades would soon be announced. He wanted a much-needed distraction from the monotony of constant studying and you had suggested a small picnic in a nearby park. Of course, he agreed. 

“We’re free,” he groans. “Finally free.”

Jungkook stares hungrily at the assortment of food you had laid out for the two of you. He tries to reach a hand out to grab a bottle of lemonade but ultimately fails in the end. You giggle at his silliness, popping a grape in your mouth.

“You’re welcome by the way,” you say jokingly. “Don’t think you could’ve done it without me.”

He sits up to face you, bowing deeply as if you were a traditional empress.

“Thank you,” he says, imitating a Joseon accent. He was watching far too many historical dramas recently.

“You’re embarrassing me,” you say, attempting to straighten him out. “Sit up.”

He complies, only after a few pulls from you, with a toothy grin on his face.

“Seriously, I don’t think I could have gone through the first few weeks of Professor Kwon’s class without your notes,” he sighs, opening his mouth to signal that he wanted to be fed. You roll your eyes but placed a grape between his teeth anyway.

“You have hands, you should know how to use them,” you mumble shyly.

You move to take another grape for yourself, but he grabs your wrist before you could. He intertwines his fingers into yours.

“Why should I when my hands are holding yours~,” he says in a sing-song voice. It made you want to throw up at how cheesy he was, but you couldn’t help but laugh along as he cringed at his own words. When was it so normal for him to hold your hands like this?

“You can’t go one sentence without flirting, can you?” you sigh, feigning annoyance.

“Not when it comes to you,” he replies, but you could feel sincerity laced between his laughter. “I can’t resist flirting when it makes you all giggly like this.”

You purse your lips to prevent yourself from smiling too brightly. Jungkook and you were somewhat past the point of being just friends by now, but you were too much of a coward to label what you had with him. What if there was a chance that he was just leading you on?

Jungkook saw your furrowed brows. He rubbed circles on your hands with his thumbs to ease you.

“Am I making you uncomfortable?” he asks softly, about to let go.

“No-” you say a little too quickly, clasping him closer to you. Your faces were inches apart now, much nearer than they were before.

“D-don’t,” you attempt to say but you’re tongue tangled as you looked at his lips. He certainly does have nice lips...

“Don’t what?” he asks in a lowly voice. You start to look around you- anywhere that wasn’t him. The park was relatively empty but it still felt embarrassing to say anything too loud.

“D-don’t let me go,” you say, your eyes on the picnic blanket rather than on him. His gaze was too intense to look at. Jungkook feels his heart clench. You were cute, too cute. 

He shouldn’t be feeling this attached to you, but he couldn’t help it. Everything you did, every word that came out of your mouth- it had him wanting more from you than he could possibly handle. It was dangerous to feel this way.

“Why don’t you want me to let you go?” he asks nervously. He too was anxious for the answer. If you were to confess to Jungkook right now, he’d get the first part of the bet done, but there’d be no turning back after your confession. He would have to lie to you from now on. 

Jungkook closed his eyes, chanting to himself that it’s okay to like you for a little while, just as long as he doesn’t get too attached in the end. He needed the money, he really did.

“Because,” you start off with a sigh, staring at him now with glossy eyes. “I like you.”

Jungkook feels like he could do ten backflips in one go and it wouldn’t even drain him of energy. The smile on his face was huge, his eyes curling into that half-moon shape that made you swoon. 

Jungkook was relieved and if the boys asked, it was because he’d only have to date you for three months. He’d die before he’d admit to them that he caught feelings because Taehyung, as generous as he was with his bets, would never give Jungkook the money unless he cleanly broke up with you. It was one of his unspoken rules.

“I like you too.”

You smile at him and he can’t help but pull you close, his lips hovering over yours.

“Can I?”

You nod.

His lips graze yours slightly but he pushes a bit closer when he feels you lean into his touch. He kisses you again, and again, and again, but you pull away when his tongue had started to prod at your lips. Your face was flushed,  embarrassed to be doing this in such a public place.

“Maybe later?” you say, panting slightly. He gives you a cheeky grin and nods.

“At my place?” he asks with a wink.

You hesitate, letting go of his arms, twiddling with your fingers. You wanted to set clear labels on what your relationship was. You didn't want to accidentally get caught up in a friends-with-benefits situation and be all shocked when Jungkook ends up breaking your heart.

“So we’re dating now, right?” you ask cautiously, looking at him with a worried glint in your eyes. 

Jungkook’s mouth opens to speak but no words come out. He thinks a little harder about the whole situation... He was getting good grades, spending some quality time with a girl he’s clearly attracted to, and having his rent paid off all in one? He was killing three birds with one stone. It shouldn’t be too big of a problem to catch feelings for now, right? It’s not like any of his relationships lasted longer than a couple of months anyway.

He nods, cupping your face lightly.

“Yeah,” he hesitates. “We’re dating.”

Jungkook wasn’t aware, as he gives you another light peck, that it wasn’t possible to have his cake and eat it too.

—

It happens naturally. You coming in and out of his apartment that he shared with his friends, you tangling your legs with his underneath the sheets of his bed. It was hard to imagine a life where you didn’t wake up with him by your side. You were so wrapped up in his touch, so wrapped up in the sweet words he would whisper into your ears, that you spent most of your time with him. 

You weren’t really up to date with your friends anymore and he didn’t really hang out with his either. Jungkook shared an apartment with Seokjin and Hoseok, and so the only contact he had with the other boys was when they visited those two. He should’ve known to take you back home when all the boys bombarded into his living room, where you sat with him watching TV. 

“The lovebirds are at it again,” Taehyung coos, a mysterious glint in his eyes. “The honeymoon stage hasn’t passed quite yet, has it?”

Jungkook chucks one of the sofa’s throw pillows at his friend, obviously annoyed. What the fuck did Taehyung think he was doing?

“Quit it,” he mutters. You were sitting next to Jungkook, his arm around your shoulder protectively

“Why?” Yoongi yawns. “Anyone can see how incredibly in love you two are.”

You didn’t quite like the smirk he gave the two of you. This didn’t feel like regular teasing... it felt like he knew something that you weren't aware of. It made you curl your toes out of fear.

“Guys,” Jimin says calmly. “Stop it.”

The boys shrug their shoulders as if they said nothing wrong.

“We’re just pointing out how cute they are together,” Taehyung noted, “It’s not like we’re lying to her or anything-”

“Yeah, or leading her on or anything like that-”

“I think I should go,” you say hurriedly, uncomfortable at how tense the atmosphere was. Jungkook was clenching his fists, about ready to start a fight any second. Knowing his strength, you didn’t want anyone to walk around with a bruised eye because you couldn’t handle a few jokes- if that’s what Taehyung and Yoongi think they’re making. Harmless jokes.

“I’ll take you home,” Jungkook announces, standing up with you. Namjoon pulls him down back on the couch.

“Let someone else take her,” he says sternly. “We need to talk.”

Jungkook was about to protest until you spoke up.

“I can get home by myself just fine.”

“Hoseok and I can take you,” Seokjin insists, pulling the unassuming man up with him. “We don’t mind.”

Hoseok gives you a lopsided smile and you return an equally awkward one.

“Okay, that’s settled,” you say, clapping your hands. You walk over to Jungkook. “I’ll text you later okay?”

He nods, grabbing your hand and kissing it lightly. Yoongi scoffs and Taehyung glares at Jungkook. The dirty glances they were giving each other... You didn’t like it at all.

“Let me know when you get home, okay?”

“Okay.”

—

The walk to your apartment was unnecessarily awkward, Hoseok and Seokjin were talking too much and you talked too little. You tried to respond to their every quip, but you weren’t in the mood for chatting after that whole mess.

“You okay, [Y/N]?” Hoseok asks worriedly. “Don’t think too much about what those idiots said back there, they’re like that all the time.”

You nod, keeping your eyes on the ground. There was something chipping away at the back of your mind, something you wanted to get out of your chest.

“Would you say Jungkook and Yoongi act similarly?” you hesitate to say, “like with relationships?”

The two boys exchanged nervous glances at each other.

“Well, it depends,” Seokjin starts, choosing his words specifically. “What about relationships specifically?”

“Does he...,” you start off, not knowing the right phrase without sounding too harsh, “play around with girls? Like how Yoongi played around with Soobin?”

Hoseok looked at you with a raised brow.

“Who’s Soobin?” he asks before getting punched in the arm by Seokjin. “What the fuck bro!”

Seokjin clears his throat.

“What Hoseok meant to say,” he starts, glaring at his friend a little too harshly, “is that Yoongi never really introduces us to his girlfriends. You, on the other hand, are one of the few girls Jungkook actually took the time to invite over.”

“Yeah,” Hoseok chimes in. “He’s not exactly the most chivalrous, but he wouldn’t ghost someone like Yoongi did.”

Somehow their words weren’t enough to satisfy you. There was still something off in the conversation that transpired between the three boys- as if they were all keeping something from you. You stopped abruptly in front of your apartment complex, finally making eye-contact with the two boys.

“Do you think...” you start, a slight quiver in your voice, “that Jungkook is cheating on me?”

The two boys let out a deep breath that you didn’t even notice they were holding and laughed joyously together. They cackled as if what you said was the funniest thing they had ever heard in their life. Seokjin wipes a stray tear from his eye.

“Y-you think Jungkook’s cheating on you?!”

You nod, a little embarrassed at their reaction. Hoseok shakes his head, sighing out of his laughter.

“Trust me,” Hoseok starts, his breath evening out. “Jungkook would never cheat on you.”

You start to giggle along with them until a serious look suddenly takes over Seokjin’s features. He faces you fully.

“But listen [Y/N],” he starts. “If Jungkook hurts you, just know that he does love you. Like, undeniably. He does.”

“And we’re not just saying that as his friends either,” Hoseok continues. “We know how he’s like and we can tell that he really does like you.”

You smile at the two, feeling a small sense of comfort at their words.

“Thank you, guys. I mean it.”

They pat you on the back.

“Anything for Jungkook’s girlfriend.”

—

You walk through the campus cafeteria, eyes searching for a free table that you can sit alone in. Jungkook had Taekwondo practice so there would be no lovey-dovey feeding time with him. 

He’s been a lot tenser since the living room incident (which was already a week ago) and it seemed like he got more agitated as the days passed. Not towards you directly, but he’d always mutter slight insults whenever Yoongi or Taehyung passed by. It made you worried that you had done something to possibly drive a wrench into their relationship without even knowing it.

‘Whatever,’ you thought, ‘I’ll talk about it with him when he comes over later.’

You aren’t able to find a seat, though, when you feel dainty fingers wrap around  your elbow to pull you back lightly.

“[Y/N],” Gaeun says in a low voice. “We need to talk.”

It wasn’t like you had been ignoring them deliberately, though that was definitely the case at the start. You just couldn’t find the time to really hang out with them as much as you used to since you were with Jungkook most of the time. It was like that too when Gaeun and Soobin were in relationships, so you never really felt bad about doing it yourself.

“Yeah sure. I miss you guys,” you smile at her, but she doesn’t return it back.

“Come with me.”

Gaeun leads you to a table near the back of the room, where Soobin was sat up against the wall with her own tray of food. You sit down in front of her and Gaeun takes the seat next to Soobin.

“Good, you’re here,” Soobin says, apprehension laced in her voice. “We need to talk about Jungkook.”

You roll your eyes.

“Not this again-”

“[Y/N],” Gaeun warns. “Listen.”

You keep quiet, a little intimidated of how scary their expressions were.

“It’s all a bet,” Soobin says sternly.

You furrow your brows at her. She tends to speak vaguely when you needed her to be specific the most.

“What?”

“It’s a bet, [Y/N],” Gaeun repeats for her. “Jungkook’s only dating you because Taehyung said he’d pay his rent off if he did.”

You clench your fist on the table. How could they sit there and spew lies so easily?

“What are you guys-”

“Those dicks do this all the time,” Soobin rambles. “They play stupid games with girls just to fucking break their hearts later on and-”

“I don’t believe you,” you say confidently. “Jungkook would never do that to me. Besides-”

Gaeun didn’t even wait until you stopped talking to play a recording on her phone. The voices were familiar enough to recognize.

“So you’re telling me that Jungkook’s just fucking around with [Y/N] because he wants priority registration? You have to be fucking joking...”

You could tell from the sound of the person’s voice that it was Soobin. It sounded like she was putting on her clothes.

“Of course not. He’s doing it for priority registration and his rent getting paid for the rest of the year. I’m not joking when I say Tae goes big with his bets. He likes to flex his money on us like that.”

Your jaw drops at the sound of the man’s voice. It was Yoongi. You were sure of it.

“And you guys don’t feel bad? Like at all?”

“Why should we? Jungkook’s planning to break up with her next week anyway so she doesn’t catch feelings for too long. It’s not like they were gonna last past the three-month deal...”

Gaeun paused the recording when she sees you bite your lip so harshly that blood starts to surface. This didn’t feel right. It didn’t feel real.

“I hooked up with him last weekend,” Soobin admits, shame written all over her face. “He was spewing stuff about Jungkook spending all his time with you and not really hanging out with the boys like he used to.”

“You still hook up with Yoongi? After all he did to you?” you ask, not meaning to come off aggressive but undoubtedly did.

“Look,” Gauen starts, taking the heat off of Soobin. “She was just drunk and looking to have fun. I was with her that night and I was talking to Namjoon. He...”

Gaeun trailed off, but you were sick of it. Sick of being kept in the dark from something you should’ve known all along.

“What?”

“H-he told me that all the boys were getting tired of him playing around with you,” she says, twiddling with her fingers. “He’s supposed to break up with you today. Some of the guys think he’s just prolonging it to fuck with you and they’re getting really annoyed-”

You bite back the tears threatening to spill over any minute now.

“Hoseok and Seokjin told me to trust Jungkook. They said he wouldn’t hurt me-”

“Did they also tell you that their rent gets paid too if Jungkook pulled through with the bet?” Soobin replies angrily. “Because they live together, don’t they?”

You open your mouth but no sound comes out- just a small whimper. Your lips start to quiver and you bite your lip again to calm yourself down. When you had collected your thoughts, you glared up at the two girls.

“And you didn’t tell me this earlier?”

Soobin scoffed.

“You were fucking ignoring us too, how were we supposed to tell you?”

“Still it wouldn’t have killed you to-”

“Don’t take your anger out on us,” Gaeun warns, her finger pointing at you. “Jungkook is the one to blame. We told you from the start that he was bad news.”

You pursed your lips and Gaeun put her finger down, feeling guilty that she lashed out on you when obviously you were just processing the information.

“Hey, I’m sorry-”

“Why me?” you ask with teary eyes. “What did I even do to them to deserve this?” 

They glance over at each other for a long while before Soobin breaks the silence. You had the right to know, but at the same time, they knew it would break you.

“It’s a sick game that they play where they just choose someone randomly...” Soobin starts off gently handing off the next few words to Gaeun, “and you were just the first girl to walk into Professor Kwon’s lecture hall. He thought you’d be...”

“Easy,” Soobin finished.

Just as they predicted, you had burst out in tears.

—

Jungkook opens the door to your apartment, using the spare key you had given him a month earlier since he tended to visit often. It was more convenient that way. 

He was freshly out of his Taekwondo garb, still sweaty, but otherwise clean from taking a shower at the campus gym. He found it strange at how dark the room was, but he knew you were on the couch from the noticeable lump of a blanket on it.

All Jungkook wanted was to cuddle with you and fall asleep in your arms after such a harrowing day. Lord knows he needs your warmth right now.

He smiled as he made his way towards you, but stops in his tracks when you sit up from where you laid. He couldn’t quite see you in the darkness so he walked to the light switch to turn the lights on. His heart broke at the sight of you.

Tears stained your cheeks, your eyes red and puffy from all the crying. You looked a mess and his blood boiled at the thought of someone hurting you. 

“What happened?” he asked, rushing over to you and cupping your face in his hands. You push him away.

“You don’t have to act anymore,” you say softly. “I can handle it.”

He looks at you with furrowed brows.

“What are you talking about-”

“I get that you really need the money,” you say through bated breaths, “I get that financially, it would have really helped, but did you really have to hurt me to do that?”

Jungkook’s breathing stopped. Everything was happening too quickly, his world crashing down when you uttered those words. He knew what this meant, knew that now you would see past his lies. Jungkook couldn’t have you finding out this way. 

He kneeled in front of you, attempting to wipe away the tears from your eyes but you push him off.

“[Y/N] no-”

“It could’ve been anyone,” you whimper, trying to look up at the ceiling to prevent any more tears from falling down. “Anyone could’ve walked through that door and you would’ve been okay with it.”

“That’s not true-” he interjects but you stop him.

“A-and you flirted with me all the time ‘cause you knew that I wasn’t used to it,” you say, your voice quivering. “You took advantage of me.”

Jungkook shakes his head rapidly, eyes pleading for you to let him speak. It hurt seeing you refuse to even look at him, to have your eyes so filled with sadness because of what he did to you. He fucked up, he fucked up so bad.

“No, you have to listen-”

“They told me not to trust you,” you whimper somberly. “They told me and I didn’t believe them because I... I was delusional or something. I thought that someone like you could actually like someone like me-”

His heart broke. It wasn’t you that didn’t deserve him. It was him. All him.

“Please don’t say that-”

“Did you come here to seal the deal? To finally break up with me?” you ask sadly. “Are you happy you’ll get the classes you want next quarter, Jungkook?”

He clenches his teeth. Jungkook knows you’re mad, knows you have a right to be, but it feels like he’s being cornered by you. Why won’t you give him the chance to speak?

“[Y/N], no,” he says sternly, “You have to trust me when I say that it went past just a bet. I like you. Genuinely, I like you.”

There was no point in lying any longer. You deserved to know the truth, but he needed you to know all of it- not just the information your friends cherry-picked to fit their narrative. He tried to speak again, but you wouldn’t let him.

“How could you,” you whimper. “How could someone be so cruel?”

Jungkook’s heart breaks at the words. He should’ve seen this coming. How could he delude himself into thinking he’d be okay if you find out- that he’d be fine seeing you heartbroken? He was disgusted with himself.

“I’m sorry [Y/N],” he whispers. “I’m so sorry.”

You shake your head, your vision getting blurry from the tears. He clasps your hands in his, knowing that it used to soothe you whenever you felt worried over something, but you just wailed harder at his touch. He didn’t know what to do, he didn't even know where to start.

“Stop pretending like you care,” you cry. “Please. It hurts.”

“It was a bet,” he admits and he breaths through the words to prevent himself from getting too emotional, “but I promise that my feelings are genuine. You have to trust me.”

“Trust you?” you ask crudely.

You stare at him, slowing your breaths to ease the crying. There was a certain emptiness in your gaze and it scared him. It was awfully frightening having you looking at him with a certain animosity that was not there before. Like he was a stranger.

“I can’t do that anymore, Jungkook,” you say softly, “because I hate you.”

—

A/N: Gasp A double update?! Say it isn’t so... I had so much fun writing this!!! Probably one of my favorite fics I’ve written in a while because I love this trope. How do y’all feel about Jungkook? Forgive or forget? Let me know!! Thank you @altus-gens​ for requesting this story, I hope you like it :)

Please leave any comment, critiques, or just random thoughts about my story! I’m planning my murder mystery series rn and I’m so excited (I might... do an album giveaway along with it...) I really love the direction I’m taking this blog in and I hope you guys are excited for the stories to come~~ 

buy me a coffee?

[genevievemd]

The Year Between (15/?)

February 1-11, 2022 - Tolerate It

Book: Open Heart: Third Year Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Genevieve McClure) Word Count: 2358 Rating: T Category: , Extended Series: WIP, AU Series, Angst Trope(s): and they were fighting, 

Summary: ~Series: Following their engagement, Ethan and Gen navigate the year between the ring and wedding. ~ Chapter: Their growing distance comes to a head.

Warnings: none

A/N: You can’t see me, but I’m wearing my Angst Queen™️ Crown. 

February Part 1 ~ TYB Masterlist

Ch. 1 ~ Ch. 2 ~ Ch. 3 ~ Ch. 4 ~ Ch. 5 ~ Ch. 6 ~ Ch. 7 ~ Ch. 8 ~ Ch 9 ~ Ch. 10 ~ Ch. 11 ~ Ch. 12 ~ Ch. 13 ~ Ch. 14

Tuesday, February 1st

A month ago, they’d be here together. Holding hands, whispering to each other, stealing kisses between sips of coffee. 

A month ago, Ethan would have jumped at the opportunity to have a quiet - as quiet as one can get in a coffee shop - moment with her. 

But now… now the response she receives is a simple no, or Olivia already brought me coffee. No longer does Ethan drop everything to be with her. And it only adds fuel to her raging fire of doubt. 

Doubt that Genevieve was certain she’d never have in regard to him. Because in even in their darkest moments, in retreats and resets, she never once doubted that he was the man she’d spend her life with.

He was her person; her best friend and soul mate. 

But now he’s a ghost. A fleeting image she only sees in the early morning hours and late in the night. 

And she’s never missed him more. 

Thursday, February 3rd

Talk to him. 

It’s the advice she’s gotten from everyone. Sienna, Natalie, even her cousin, Stephanie, have all said the same thing. 

Talk to Ethan. 

But it’s hard to talk to a man that isn’t there. One that forgot to mention he was actually going to have a bachelor party, despite is earlier refusal. 

One that promised to be home in time for a late dinner, but hasn’t showed. 

She stares at the digital clock on the stove. 

11:23 PM

11:27 PM

11:30 PM

It’s another promise broken. Or maybe another lie. 

Whatever it is, it makes the ache in her chest worsen. All Gen wanted was one night, a few hours where they could sit on the couch, where she could be in his arms and feel the ground at her feet again. 

She’d be too afraid to talk to him, regardless of that being the sole reason she had asked if he’d be home for dinner. Because how do you tell the man you eloped with, the one you’re supposed to truly marry in exactly one hundred days, that you’re afraid he’ no longer in love with you. Afraid he’s changed his mind on the vision you shared for the future. 

Gen would rather wait, suffer in silence until the right opportunity emerges and she feels confident enough to tell him. 

Or perhaps, things will get better on their own, and she’ll never have to tell him about this brief moment in their life together where she feared for their future. 

Gen looks up at the clock again, only fifteen minutes until midnight. With a defeated sigh, she gets up from the dining table and heads for their bedroom. Jenner is already settled at the foot of the bed, snuggled with his favorite toy. 

She gets ready for bed, throwing on one of Ethan’s shirts instead of her usual pajamas. She hears the front door open as she settles between the high end sheets, hears him drop his briefcase and shuffle into their room. 

“I didn’t think you’d be awake still.” Ethan stops in the doorway, his face emotionless. Cold. 

“I wanted to wait for you.” 

“Give me a minute to shower and change, and I’ll come to bed.” He heads for their closet, not waiting for her answer. 

Gen watches him intently, cataloging every move he makes. In the moment he’s about to undo the last button of his shirt, she leaps from the bed, the need to feel his skin against hers, hear his heartbeat, overwhelming. 

Ethan startles but quickly relaxes, drawing her closer. 

“I love you.” She keeps her voice at a low whisper, afraid to get any louder so he doesn’t hear the crack in her voice. 

Gen squeezes her eyes shut, tears prickling behind closed lips when Ethan cradles the back of her head. 

“I love you, too, G.” 

For a brief moment, she forgets her fears, the suspicions and doubts. For one singular moment, nothing exists but her and Ethan. 

Thursday, February 10th

He looks nervous the entire elevator ride to their floor, when he grabs her hand to lead her to their door. Ethan wanted her to talk to him hours ago, finally discuss why she’s so afraid. 

But she couldn’t do it at the hospital. They weren’t safe there. His office came with Olivia, and anywhere else would only lead to gossip. 

Their home was the only safe place. 

“Do you want to make dinner or talk first?” Ethan breaks the silence when they walk in the door, throwing his keys onto the counter. 

“Whatever you want.” 

“It doesn’t matter what I want, this is about you.” 

She almost laughs in disbelief, looking up at the ceiling to find the strength needed to push forward. “That fact that you think this” She gestures between them, eyes now focused on his stormy and uncertain blue. “Is just about me is part of the problem.” 

“From where I’m standing, G, everything is fine.” 

“Everything is not fine! You -- how can they be when I don’t see you? You don’t talk to me, you don’t kiss me, we…” Gen takes a deep breath, moving into the living room. 

The large windows cast shadows from the moonlight across the room, like little black holes she wishes she could fall into. Run away from inevitable destruction. 

“Are you done with me? Is that what’s going on with you? You’re trying to find a way to tell me you changed your mind about marriage and kids?” 

“Where is -- where did you come up with that?” Ethan looks at her, bewildered. 

“Just answer the question.” 

“If I changed my mind, we wouldn’t have eloped. We’re already married.” 

“No, we’re not. Not really.” 

The pain her words cause him is almost immediate. His face drains of color, his breath quickens. 

“I seem to remember standing in front of the Eiffel Tower and giving you a damn ring. Was that not a wedding? It was up until this moment.” 

“But it wasn’t legal. No matter how much we claim it was real, it wasn’t. Not really. But, maybe you wanted it that way all along.” She can feel the tears falling down her face. Every emotion she’s felt in the last month, breaking free from their cages. 

“Are you kidding me, Genevieve? After everything we’ve been through, you think I want an out?” 

“I don’t know!” She doesn’t mean to yell, to throw her hands up in fury. But she’s become unhinged, a host body for her disordered feelings. “I don’t know anything about you anymore, because you’re never here. We just exist in this house on completely different schedules. You see your assistant more than you see me.” 

“You’re being hysterical. You honestly believe I’m having an affair with my assistant? That’s an insult, Gen, to me and to our relationship.” 

“Of course I don’t! But you’re not even trying to understand where I’m coming from.” 

“Because you’re completely out of your mind. How the hell did we go from believing we’d make it to our sixtieth anniversary, to this?” 

“Easily. You. You cancelled every date, either at home or out. You cancel any other plans we have. You get annoyed when I try to talk about the wedding. You stopped coming home before I’m asleep and then leave before I’m awake. You never tell me l love you anymore, unless I say it first.” She takes a breath, desperate for air, to stop sounding like a blubbering fool. “I feel like I’m losing you, Ethan, and you don’t see it.” 

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Genevieve.” 

“Anything.” She steps forward, looking up at him with wide, pleading eyes. “Tell me the truth, something, please.” 

He stands there, unmoving, eyes focused on her own. He doesn’t reach for her, doesn’t say a word. Leaving her in limbo, feeling like a fool. 

After what feels like an eternity, Ethan takes a breath, only to deliver an almost fatal blow. 

“I don’t have an answer, Gen, because I don’t see what you see. I don’t know how to help you right now.” 

“That’s all you have?”

“I don’t… yes.” 

“Okay.” Gen wipes the tears from her cheeks, stepping away from him. Every inch of new distance feels like a mile. Worse than the chasm that was already between them. 

He doesn’t stop her from walking into the guest room, or call after her to try and talk things out. He simply lets her close the door. 

And for the first time in almost a year, she willingly sleeps in  a bed that isn’t theirs. 

Friday, February 11th

7:10 AM

The last time he felt this close to losing her, there was a layer of plastic between them. She was the unintentional victim of an old vendetta. But this time -- 

This time, the only person Ethan can blame is himself. 

He can’t even pinpoint the moment he became this man. The one who willingly lies to his wife’s face, the one who broke almost every vow he made to her. Every promise. The one who crushed the very heart he swore to protect. 

Ethan had seen how anxious she’d become, knew she was falling apart, but kept ignoring it. Putting off the easy fix another day. He was so secure in what they have, he never stopped to think his own actions could cause her to doubt. 

Doubt to the point where she thinks he’s having an affair. 

Of all the things she said, that was the only falsehood. And he’d be lying if he said the accusation didn’t hurt. 

He hasn’t thought of anyone else but Genevieve since the day they met. She’s been in his heart, owned his heart, for longer than she’d ever know. There was no one else for him, and there never would be. 

Olivia was just one of many who flirted shamelessly, and just like he does with all the others, Ethan ignored it. Let the young woman make a fool out of herself. 

Gen should have known that, no matter how many times he cancelled their plans or how often he saw his assistant, he would never cross the line. Would never hurt her in that way. In any way. 

With a strangled sigh, he opens the door to Derry Roaster’s, getting in the long line to order his coffee. 

He barely slept the night before. Instead, he went over every second of the last month. Every time he had the opportunity to fix he and Gen’s growing distance, and every time he brushed it off. Thought about his wife, alone in a bed on the other side of their home, no doubt crying because of his asininity. 

Ethan had every intention of fixing the issues, fixing them, when morning came, but Gen was gone before he had the chance. Leaving him a note on the counter that she’d gone to work early. 

So here he was, waiting in the morning rush, for coffee to help him get through the day. 

He looks towards the back, as the line inches forward, to the spot he and Gen always occupy. Where they’ve shared countless kisses and gallons of coffee. Feeling the ache of her absence. 

He needed to fix things, before she got any farther away. 

Ethan quickly pulls out his phone, texting Olivia first to hold all his calls for the next hour, and then Genevieve. Asking her to meet him at Derry’s. That, for the first time, he’d be waiting for her. That he loves her, now and always.

His attention is pulled from his phone right when he presses “send”, hearing a collection of screams outside. 

The reality of what’s about to happen hitting him like a ton of bricks. 

He never quite understood when patients would say their life flashed before their eyes in the moments leading up to catastrophe. 

But he gets it now, in the seconds between hearing the screeching tires and attempting to jump out of the way as a car crashes into the café, Ethan sees his life play out. Every instance of joy, every moment of regret. And most of all, the most painful part of those last few seconds, he sees Genevieve. 

Her smile, her laugh, the first time they kissed, the night she declared her love for him, the day she moved in, when he proposed, their wedding in Paris. Every detail in perfect clarity. 

And right at the end, before the world falls black, he sees the look on her face from ten long hours ago. The uncertainty, the heartbreak. The cry for help that he so carelessly ignored. 

7:28 AM

She gets his text as she enters the elevator, reads his words over and over. 

A part of her wants to meet him, hear him out, fix the problem. But she’s been waiting on him for weeks - years, in truth - so he can wait another day. 

Sit in the same pool of agony that she’s been floating in. 

Because if their new pattern has taught her anything, it’s that this apology will fade as quickly as it came. Just like the thousands of others she’s gotten since Ethan became chief. 

So instead, she answers her page to the Emergency Room, focuses on work and not her mercurial relationship. 

Gen isn’t surprised by the chaos as she walks through the doors, quickly maneuvering through the crowds to find Ines. Get whatever information she can. 

“Thank god you answered.” Ines lets out a breath, moving herself and Gen out of the way as paramedics wheel in another patient. “It’s only going to get worse.” 

“What happened, exactly?” 

“You didn’t hear? Someone crashed into Derry Roasters, right in the middle of the morning rush. We’ve only just started getting…” 

The world goes white as Ines’s words sink in. The mayhem of the E.R. becomes a blur of muffled voices. Her lungs constrict to the point of suffocation, her shaking hands dropping her pager to the floor. 

He was there. 

Ethan was there, waiting for her. And now he could be hurt or worse.

And it was all her fault. 

A/N: *evil laughter*

(Tagging separately)

[bumbleklee]

hi can i request (diluc maybe?? idk but any other characters bc i cant think of any rn ) with an s/o who is a harbinger (gen neutral) but theyre not that serious in it more like chaotic & nice even though they might have a handful of crimes 😀(theyre only in it bc their parents put them in it or s/o was like parentless and they saw them and just took them) Hope this makes sense you can change or redact anything iyw!! thanks :))

writing this on my phone so pls excuse any spelling mistakes,,,,needed a little distraction and writing helps give me that distraction (＾• ω •＾) u guys kinda makeout at the end so warning for that

you were orphaned at age 12 and spent most of your childhood/teenage years traveling around teyvat

posing no threat, bands of treasure hoarders let you travel with them (that’s where you learned how to steal to make a living)

so it really wasn’t a surprise you joined the fatui right when you turned 18 and soon moved up the ranks to become the 12th harbinger

you were stationed in mondstadt right away and you soon learned that there was much more to life than the crimes of the fatui

your first few weeks in mondstadt were rough though

you continued your thievery until you were caught one night by a black hooded figure

they threatened to kick you out of the city then but you practically begged them to let you stay since you didn’t really have anywhere else to go (the tsarista was paying for an apartment for you on top of your paycheck)

they made you promise to leave the people of mondstadt alone and you reluctantly agreed

not having anything to do anymore, you decided to explore mondstadt and figure out what made everyone adore the city so much

despite your status as a harbinger, everyone was surprisingly nice to you (you often wondered if it was because they were scared of you) so you were nice to them

you made daily conversations with sarah, learning top-secret cooking tips and met flora, who talked your ear off about the different flowers of mondstadt

the children of mondstadt liked you too

they would come up to you when they saw you in the streets and beg you to tell them about your stories as as a harbinger

even the knights of favonius didn’t hate you

they kept a close eye on you but once jean truly realized you weren’t a threat, she backed off the knights and you became friendly with them

you were able to explain your situation and how you joined the fatui because you didn’t really have any other option and they were sympathetic towards you

you got along with kaeya and lisa the most

your cheeky, mischievous personalities worked together perfectly and you found yourself hiding in the library more often than not to prank jean with kaeya

kaeya took you to the few taverns in mondstadt on friday nights and made you carry him home when he got too drunk to stand

despite your well-liked nature, there was one person who wasn’t fond of you

diluc

the man didn’t like the fact that were was even a harbinger in town and he really didn’t like when you started to blend in

he didn’t trust you (for good reasons) and no matter how much kaeya praised you to him, diluc wouldn’t budge

so, you took matters into your own hands

one night when you knew diluc would be working at the tavern, you made your way inside and sat yourself down on a stool

diluc glared at you and didn’t attend to you for a few minutes, wondering if you were going to leave or seriously stay

and, of course, you stayed

Diluc Ragnvindr. 

Descendent of the great Venessa. 

Archons, how you disliked this man. 

He carried himself with a superiority complex you could spot a mile away, like he knew he was the uncrowned king of Mondstadt. He was kind and gentle to everyone but you, rather choosing to be aloof and mean. He didn’t like you so you didn’t like him. 

So how you ended up alone in his tavern was beyond you. 

“You know, there’s nothing stopping me from throwing you out of this city right now,” Diluc sneered. Only the bar separated the two of you. Diluc’s eyes were stuck on you while he hands dried the freshly washed glasses from the rush that night. 

“You know, you might be more liked if you didn’t have such a stick up your ass,” You mocked. Your drink was empty yet you continued to trace the lip of the glass with your finger. “Am I being detained?”

Diluc let out a short chuckle, “Detained? No, you’re free to leave.” 

You didn’t budge and Diluc finally reached over for your empty glass to throw into the sink. Your fingers brushed his and you noticed how warm they were. Diluc peered at you and walked around the bar, a rag in his hand, and began to wipe down the counter. 

Your gaze stayed on Diluc and the closer he got to you, the more your body tensed up. Despite your disdain for the man, you would be foolish to deny his attractiveness. Diluc seemed to notice you staring and suddenly turned to face you, his hand nearly slamming down on the counter next to you. 

“What are you waiting around for?” He asked coldly, “I’m done with you.”

Your body reacted before your logic and you leaned forward, smashing your lips against his. The thick tension between you snapped like a twig as Diluc pressed into the kiss, his hands coming to roughly tangle in your hair. Your own hands found solace around his neck, trying to pull him even closer to your body. 

“I hate Harbingers,” Diluc growled. His lips traveled down your jaw and you bite viciously at your neck, breaking the skin and leaving a mark. You tried to refute him but your words stumbled out of your mouth. Your fingers dragged forward to the buttons on his shirt and you started to undo them, your lips capturing Diluc’s again as your teeth clashed together. 

Just as you were about to pull down his shirt from his shoulders, Diluc pulled back. His face was bright red, his lips swollen. Your breathing was heavy and you held back your whine at the loss of contact. 

“I should go,” You whispered and Diluc nodded. “Will...I see you around?”

Diluc hesitated, “Yeah, you will.” 

With that, you quickly exited the tavern and straightened out your clothing. You crossed your fingers no one was around as you headed straight to your apartment to ponder about what the hell just happened and why you wanted to feel it again. 

[ranboo5]

here is a c!techno ask! do you think when c!ranboo thinks about how he will greet c!techno once he is brought back to life, in the best possible version does he imagine a run-up and hug, a knowing shoulder nudge where c!techno lets him borrow his cape since it’s cold in the arctic and he didn’t wear his parka to the afterlife, or stooping down without saying anything about it so c!techno can ruffle his hair without going onto his tiptoes.

Anon my best friend gen do not take this incorrectly as if I were to condemn copium I would be a liar and I adore these I adore the second one particularly and in fact I am stealing that. I adore that. I adore that I want peace on the planet earth

But I promised you a war crime in return and by god have I been thinking about this and I have been thinking about "why didn't you come for me?" and it's a genuine question and a general one, and it's clarified such with the "why didn't anyone come for me? Why didn't anyone try?"

And it's a question, a real question, not a backhanded argument point or a point demanded of the air because here stands possibly the only person to answer this who it doesn't feel horrible to ask

Ranboo is not interested in answers that confirm his despair. Well, he is, but he didn't get this far by wandering into places where he gets the answer he's fearing – he knows how to avoid that, and he made it out because he does. Ranboo is terrible at asking questions, in some ways, because he likes to know the answers ahead of time, one way or another, and the obvious paths he can figure out on his own. He doesn't need to hear about different priorities and miscalculations. He sure as hell doesn't need to hear lies to remind him that nothing, not death and not revival, can save him from the strangling grip of the hidden role game everyone on this server is constantly playing. So he makes this decision now to ask now to ask here and it's the right decision to make because Technoblade does not lie. He does not have an answer and he doesn't pretend he does and when he says "I don't know, Ranboo" there is nothing hiding behind it that is high stakes to unravel. It's just simply said because there's nothing else to say

There isn't really a reason. There doesn't have to be. Sometimes that just isn't how it happens, though, and paralysis or misunderstanding or dysfunction or whatever prevents one from going after someone kicks in, and maybe he's just not the kind of presence who was to be grieved in that flavor and maybe people weren't the type to grieve in that flavor and does it really matter? Because they love him here, enough to not have an answer, and they're safe here, enough not to lie. It's enough to be alive. It's enough to be alive. It is more than enough to be alive, to have all of him here, to be able to breathe and to think and to feel without any construction but the one that's made up either by him or by everyone else. And those... well, there's hope for those yet. Long as he isn't dead. Hope for it all yet.

[teashoptiramisu]

Another fic rec list

This started as a rec list for “well-written fics with feral characters”. It kinda got out of control, and I started questioning “what even counts as feral in a characterization sense”, but hopefully some of these hit the mark. They are all fics that I love a lot and recommend more generally! All of these are gen and mostly rated T, unless noted otherwise:

A Dark Night in Ba Sing Se: ATLA, 20k words, first arc complete, on hiatus. Zuko gets arrested for taking the guard’s swords when he fought Jet at the tea shop, but he will not stay arrested, and further shenanigans ensue. Sweet, funny, excellent characterization, many delightful OC’s that really fill out the world of Ba Sing Se.

Towards the Sun – ATLA, 57k words, first arc complete, on hiatus. Same author as the previous (muffinlance). Zuko becomes firelord in rather worse circumstances than canon. TBH the “feral” part doesn’t really come in until near the end, when it turns out that trying his hardest isn’t enough, so he tries something else. Same author as the above, with really excellent characterization, a humorous kind of narration that will keep you laughing through the tension and heartbreak. Beware the angst in the middle but it gets better!

There May Be Some Collateral Damage – Bleach & HP, 60k words, complete. Ichigo is sent to bodyguard Harry for the 5th year, everything is delightfully chaotic and hilarious.

“I don’t take things from people,” Ichigo corrects her indignantly. “I mean, sometimes I chop them up and set them on fire, but I don’t take them. Stealing is wrong.”

Trust Me, I’m an Alchemist – FMA & YOI, 55k words, complete. Also by metisket. What if everyone in Yuri!!! On Ice had to deal with Elrics instead of Yuri Plisetsky? The answer is mafia connections and secondhand trauma but also more friendship and general shenanigans! Incredibly crack-y premise and the beginning to set it up is a bit weird and confusing but I promise the rest of the fic is 100% worth it. So funny, so wonderful, I re-read my favorite bits of this at least once a week. Technically lots of shipping (this is YoI after all) but it’s all played for laughs/characterization, not particularly romantic. I would post a favorite quote like for the above but I couldn’t choose just one.

Play it again – Teen Wolf (but no familiarity required), 63k words, complete. Same author as the previous two (metisket). Dimension-Travel fix it, Stiles is 200% chaotic but he has a plan and it’s gonna work. The Hale family is alive and so much fun, especially Laura. Also very funny, some romance at the very end but it’s pretty low-key.

What Goes Around – Teen Wolf, 71k words, complete. Kate kills Sheriff Stilinksy as well as the Hales, so Stiles and Peter team up to take out hunters like her in revenge. Unlike most of my other recs, this one is not funny, but it is interesting, and while they’re very methodical about it I think the way it handles “serial killers hunting serial killers” definitely counts as feral. Also this one is rated M rather than T and has Stiles/Derek at some point but I forgot the details.

Subject: A Comprehensive Report – BNHA, 83k words, updates very sporadically. Izuku remains quirkless but becomes the scariest damn researcher. I would call this “feral about investigating.” I love the multi-media formatting of this work and the expansive, in-depth worldbuilding the author contributes to explain how the hero system of canon came to be.

Something Borrowed – BNHA, 130k words, abandoned (for now at least). AFO!Izuku, who personality-wise is pretty nice, but when he goes all-out with his quirk he goes all out. I REALLY love the creativity the author brings to exploring and combining quirks, and how the characters work together to figure these things out.

Mr. and Mrs. Todoroki’s Excellent Day at Hero-Con – BNHA, 5k words, complete. I love “hero cosplays at fancon, trolls fans” as a story genre, and for some reason I haven’t really seen that outside of BNHA? Anyways this is one of the most chaotic and fun versions of this. Features Izuku and Uraraka trolling the entire world and especially Todoroki with utter panache. It’s Izuku/Ochako/Shotou but the shipping is pretty low-key.

Looping Back to the Beginning – BNHA, 10k words, complete. Class 1-A is caught in a time loop so they have fun with it. Featuring pranks, taunting villains, general shenanigans. Probably more “chaotic” than “feral”, but it’s a lot of fun!

Yesterday Upon the Stairs – BNHA, 424k words, complete. Look if you read BNHA fics you don’t need me to tell you about this fic, but suffice to say I think it’s status as the most-read English language work on AO3 is entirely deserved. Izuku is particularly feral in Ch. 7-9 (USJ attack), Ch. 26-27 (final exam), Ch. 34-40 (Kamino Ward), Ch. 50-end (Nighteye internship – esp. 57-59 for the showdown with Overhaul).

Twin Swap – BNHA, 55k words, two complete arcs. Fuyumi and Touya get body-swapped, shenanigans ensue. This is funny and cracky and endearing and more towards “found family feels” than feral escalation, but I’m putting it on here b/c Fuyumi is so done with everyone’s shit, and Dabi is, well, Dabi. Background Dabi/Hawks and Fuyumi/Miruko.

Abolish Private Property - Naruto, 27k words, sporadic updates. “The raging communist SI/OC that no one asked for, or really, deserves.” It’s, uh, very cracky but pretty funny. TBH I much more enjoy the sister fic Sanitize but that is the opposite of feral. Yui suffers no fools but she’s here to bring the wonders of modern medicine (what she can of it) to a preindustrial society wracked by war.

Several Yelp! Reviews of the Bridge~Port Brew Pub – Leverage, 900 words, complete. Parker is just always feral but this is my favorite Leverage fic, it’s fun!!

…and I didn’t end up with any FMA recs on here did I? woops. Uh, I recommend going through metisket’s and silentwalrus’ author pages, they both write great ridiculous Elrics. Mind the tags.

[narukoibito]

Fic Recs: Angst

Sure thing, Anon! Glad you are enjoying my lists! Though a lot of my recs in general are angsty, so many of these will be repeats from other lists, but I decided not to re-rec every angsty story since that would be too much. Everything I’ve rec’ed before is indented in case you are only looking for new stories. Saddle up, this is a long one. Enjoy!

Anything with * is a WIP.

Canon-Compliant

Realising by @floreatcastellumposts

Missed Moment: Harry realizes he loves Ginny. It’s so painful and heartbreaking. Note that I also list a bunch of other favorite MM by Flo in my All-Time Favorites List though not all are angsty.

22 by @floreatcastellumposts​

Harry realizes he has outlived his parents.

the train station by @ink-splotch​

An absolutely chilling story of Ginny’s near-death experience in the Chamber of Secrets. The writing, like most of dirgewithoutmusic’s work is riveting. This is Ginny-centric rather than Hinny/Harry-centric.

Post-War Canon

gone was any trace of you by @annerbhp​

Amnesia, Married: Again, one of my all-time favorites because I can’t not rec this for angst. Harry loses his memories. Counting this as post-war canon since there’s nothing in this that contradicts it being part of canon.

i just really need you here right now by @annerbhp

Harry and Ginny, like all couples, have things they need to work on. That doesn’t mean they give up.

as the morning steals upon the night by @could-have-beens

My favorite canon reuniting after the battle story.

Chambers by starfishstar

After the war, everything isn’t okay, but maybe eventually it can be. A Ginny-centric post-war story.

Ghost of You by blacktag189

An incredibly angsty story of Ginny suffering from mental health issues after the war and how she comes to recover (with a lot of challenges to her and Harry’s relationship along the way). The author does a good job depicting mental health issues and long-distance relationship challenges. 

A Life Closed Twice Before Its Close by tosca

Halloween comes around again, and Harry can’t shake a feeling of unease. I loved how tosca depicts an established Harry/Ginny in this story.

will you stay by NaruKoibito (me)

“So? What was the verdict? Any Veelas?” Harry and Ginny after the war.

Next Gen

Between Walls and Harvest Moons by @ellizablue​

During Albus’s third year in Cursed Child timeframe. It’s heavily focused on the Al’s disconnect with his parents. Ginny pays him a visit. There are heartbreaking moments of Harry angsting over his relationship with Al, but I have such a soft spot for Ginny & Al stories, and this one hit all of them.

Put Your Curse In Reverse by @ellizablue​

The second part of the amazing It’s Tea Time* series. It is not heavily Harry/Ginny focused, but there is a lot of angst, great Hinny marriage moments, an epic moment where Harry encounters a Boggart that ripped my heart out, and much, much more.

Alternate Universe

The Changeling and Armistice Series* by @annerbhp  

You all must know by now that this is my all-time favorite story, but if you need an angst rec, this is it, my friends. There’s angst everywhere, really, but in my head we do everything right has some of my favorite angst ever.

Keeping Even the Broken Promises* by Summer Potter

Amnesia, Harry/Other is a part of this story: Four years after Harry wakes up with no memory, he begins a journey to discover what he left behind and the promises he inadvertently broke. 

you will bleed to death from the pain of it by lullabyknell 

Soulmark: This painful, amazing story inverts the trope in the best way. 

take what i took and give it back to you by fairytiger

Soulmark: Harry decides to breakup with his soulmate.

The World I Leave Behind by NES85

What if Voldemort hadn’t killed Harry in the forest but everyone thought he had? He traps Harry in the Chamber of Secrets – but what happens when Harry escapes? Oh Harry being Harry in this and his scenes with Ginny definitely are gut-wrenching.

Unravel Me* by NaruKoibito (me)

FWB: My canon-divergence story where Harry and Ginny never got together in HBP. After a drunken night, these two angsty idiots wind up in a friends-with-benefits relationship full of agonizing mutual pining.

Angst-Without-A-Happy-Ending

Okay. Okay. Sometimes I dabble in the dark arts. Sometimes I read stories of such pure, unadulterated angst, just to cry my heart out. 

Warning: There are several stories below that contain a major character death. I oscillated between marking them or not, but some of them it’s better that you’re not spoiled. So...you’ve been warned that at least these stories below do not clearly end with Harry and Ginny together. Nothing but PAIN ahead! 

Without Love by @captainyellowsturm

Every time I read this, I cry. Every time. It’s such sweet, torturous angst. (No, seriously, I really go to reread this when I want to cry.)

Perpendicular by akissincrisis

AU Harry never goes to Hogwarts. This story. THIS story. Ugh, it packs such a punch. Harry never attends Hogwarts, but meets Ginny through a Muggle party. It’s beautiful, so full of hope and possibilities, the what-ifs, the why, whyyyyyyy... I forever wonder why at the ending. But I love this story (even if I imagine a happy ending).

When the Timer Pings by Alchemilla

I read this story 10+ years ago and it still gets me every time. Ginny is about to get married and runs into her ex-boyfriend, Harry. She’s hoping for closure, but is that what she finds?

Lacking by pinkdigi

If Ginny didn’t wait for Harry. Ugh, so painful. I love the author’s style, the hardness of their Harry and Ginny. My heart breaks and breaks, yet I keep coming back.

Couldn’t Keep Him There by Mad Maudlin

Ginny finds Harry after the war. The mood and tone of this really gets to me. This one moment where she puts a wrapper in his hand kills me every time.

Wednesday Dates by fizzmonkeys

I’m not sure whether this is just angst or angst without a happy ending, so to be safe, I’m putting it here. I loved this story so much that I printed and saved it from 10+ years ago.

–––

Want more recommendations? Send me an ask or check out my:

All-time Favorite recs

Muggle AU / Coffeeshop AU recs

Post-War Canon recs

Missed Moments recs

Pregnancy recs

Outsider Perspective recs

Amnesia recs

In Every Universe recs

[7-wonders]

For a little over a month now, you had been dating Duncan Shepherd, and it was...surprisingly low-key considering how high-profile he was. That's not to say that this is a bad thing. In fact, it's been really nice. Dinner dates at the backs of restaurants, movie nights at your place, even just driving aimlessly and talking with each other. Over the past month, you've gotten to really know the man that many magazines refer to as "untouchable," finding out that those assumptions are all lies. In fact, you've never been so comfortable in the beginning stages of a relationship with someone before.

Which is why you're waiting for the other shoe to drop.

You're not used to things going so good for you. Work, personal life, relationships--all manage to end up going in the opposite direction of where you wanted them to go. This is probably the reason that it took three weeks of Duncan chasing after you after meeting at a work conference (you'll never forget watching this 30-something man who had been covered in Forbes walk up to a group of late Millenials/early Gen Zs and look entirely out of his element) before you agreed to go out with him. You're just naturally guarded, and there's nothing wrong with that. But, you'll admit, it is nice to be vulnerable sometimes. Especially when that results in an extremely beautiful man taking out out and showering you with attention.

Said beautiful man is who makes your phone buzz on your desk. It's 3:30 on a Friday, and you're really not doing much work anyways.

"It's a beautiful day out, are you up for ditching work and going for a walk through the park?"

You feel yourself flush, as you always do whenever Duncan texts you. Before you can respond, another text comes in.

"Too late, I'm already outside your office."

Sure enough, you look up and see him chatting to your coworker. His eyes flick towards you, and he grins when he sees that you're shrugging your coat on. "Hi," you say shyly, a little flustered that he's here in your office right now.

"Hi. Hope I didn't interrupt any work."

"You did. I was very busy staring at my blank computer screen."

Duncan chuckles, wrapping his arm around you and leading you out of the office. you turn to wave goodbye to your coworker, who is currently fanning herself with her hand and mouthing "oh my god!"

"So what are you doing out of your office on a Friday afternoon?"

"Ah, they didn't have much use for me anyways." You laugh, knowing that's an obvious lie. His uncle would make him live at the office if he had the chance. "No, I figured I could take off a couple of hours early. Lord knows I've worked enough lately."

"You sure the world won't stop spinning because you're gone?"

Duncan grabs your hand, swinging it lightly as you cross a crosswalk. "If it does, at least I'm with you." You look up at him in pleased surprise, and he steals a kiss. "There is something I've been wanting to discuss with you, though. Figured this would be a good time to do it."

Oh god. The other shoe. "You're not married or something, are you?"

"No, I'm not married."

"Thank god," you breathe a literal sigh of relief.

"Was that really what you were worried about? That you were an unknowing mistress?"

"That, and that you might be a serial killer." You side-eye him. "Verdict's still out on that one."

He laughs. "I can promise you that neither of those are true."

"So what did you want to tell me? If you're not a married serial killer."

You come to a stop when Duncan does, staring at him as he nervously rubs the back of his neck. "Um, I...I have a child."

"A child?" He nods. "Like, a tiny human that shares your DNA?" Another nod.

"I understand that this might be a shock to you."

"No! No, it's not a shock. I'm just surprised, is all."

"I've never told any of the previous women I've dated about her, because typically the fling ends as just a fling, and her safety is something that I'm very protective of."

"Your daughter?"

"Yes, Elizabeth. She's three."

You smile, the mental image of Duncan as a dad something intensely heartwarming.

"As I was saying, I don't typically tell my dates about her, but you and I are getting fairly serious and I don't want to hide such an important part of my life from you."

"We're getting serious, huh?" Duncan laughs lightly. "Can I call you my boyfriend?"

"As long as I can call you my girlfriend."

"Is your daughter's mother...around?"

"No. She stuck around for two months after Elizabeth was born, and then she left. We weren't dating for very long before she got pregnant. I told her that I wanted the baby, even if she didn't." Duncan shrugs. "I guess she didn't."

"I'm so sorry that you had to deal with that, Duncan."

"I'd rather raise my daughter to know she has one parent that loves her so much instead of one parent that loves her and one parent that doesn't care." Though he hasn't revealed much about his past, you do know that he has a complicated relationship with his family, which is probably where those feelings come from.

"Thank you for telling me. I'm glad that you trust me enough to talk about someone so precious to you."

"I want you in my life, (Y/N), hopefully for a long time, but I need you to know that she'll always come first."

Well, if you didn't think you were head over heels for him before, this solidifies it.

"If you're okay with it, I want you to meet her."

You look up in surprise. "You do?"

"Of course. I'm not going to tell you all of this just for you to not meet her."

"I'd love to!" you say quickly, not wanting him to think you're hesitant. "Would she be okay with it?"

Duncan nods. "I'll talk to her about it, but I don't see why not. Do you want to come over tonight? I can cook dinner, and you can actually see where I live."

You try not to show it, but your eyes widen. Not only would you be meeting his daughter, but now you'd be visiting his place for the first time. "Um, sure!"

"I'll text you, but does five work? That gives me some time after the nanny leaves."

"Five is great."

"You sure?" He smirks. "You look a little nervous."

"I'm sure." Duncan kisses you once more before bidding you farewell, leaving you to walk home and try not to internally freak out.

///

After spending way too much time figuring out what to wear before realizing you're meeting your boyfriend's three-year-old and not the Queen of England, you're at the address Duncan had texted you at approximately 5:05 (not too late, but also not punctual or, even worse, early). You shift from foot to foot nervously after knocking on the door of the townhouse, not quite sure if you should let yourself in.

Before you can make that decision, it's made for you when the door is opened by Duncan. He's grinning, barefoot and casual, with a tiny pair of arms wrapped around his neck and big blue eyes shyly gazing up at you from where a head is hidden against his shoulder. Instantly, your nerves melt away when you see that she's truly Duncan's carbon copy, from the eyes to the brown curls to the way she looks at you as if she's trying to figure you out.

"Hi, come in." Duncan ushers you in, kissing you on the cheek as he takes your coat. "Do you want something to drink?"

"Wine?" you ask before wondering if you can even drink wine when there's a small child around.

"Perfect, I already opened a bottle." Duncan looks at his daughter, brushing her curls back before whispering something in her ear. "(Y/N), this is my daughter, Elizabeth. Lizzie, this is Daddy's special friend, (Y/N), remember?"

"Hi Elizabeth, it's very nice to meet you," you say with a smile.

She looks up at you. "Hi," she says before burying her face in Duncan's shoulder again, making both you and him chuckle.

"The, uh, food's probably almost ready. It's chicken and rice, if you're okay with that."

"Definitely!"

"I wanted chicken nuggets, but Daddy said that's not 'date food,'" Elizabeth pipes up. You laugh as Duncan blushes.

"That's where your dad and I disagree, because I would eat chicken nuggets every night if I could."

She grins, and you feel like you just won the lottery. "Me too."

"Can I set you down, sweetie? I have to check the stove," Duncan explains. He speaks to her so softly, which is such a change from the demanding man you see when he's on work calls, or the romantic who loves to make you flustered. Once she agrees, he puts her on the floor and she immediately runs off, presumably to the living room or her bedroom.

"She's so cute," you gush once she's out of earshot.

"Yeah, she is," he says fondly, moving something off of the stove before kissing you properly. "I think she likes you."

"You can tell?"

He shrugs. "Father's intuition."

"I wasn't sure if I should have brought her a gift, like a toy or something?"

"I'm glad you didn't. My mom spoils her rotten with toys, she has way more than she needs."

"Can I help you with anything?"

"Would you mind setting the table, actually?" He points to a cupboard. "Dishes are up there."

Everywhere you look, there's signs of the little girl that lives here, whether it be crayon artwork on the fridge or the kid plastic plates in the cupboard. You smile at a picture of Duncan pushing Elizabeth on a swing as you set down the plates and cutlery, Duncan putting dishes of food on the middle of the table.

"Elizabeth!" he calls. "Dinner's ready!" You can hear the pattering of her little feet before you see her sprinting into the dining room like she's racing Usain Bolt.

"Daddy, can I sit with (Y/N)?" she asks, making your heart almost explode.

"I don't know, you'd have to ask (Y/N)," he says, hiding a grin as he looks at you.

"(Y/N), can I sit with you?"

"Yeah." Your voice comes out as little more than a whisper due to how choked up you are, so you clear your throat and try again. "Yeah," you say, louder.

You sit down on the chair closest to Duncan, and Elizabeth clambers up onto your lap. Once she's comfy, she makes grabby hands at the plate that Duncan is making for her. Your hands hover awkwardly at your sides, not sure what to do. What if you move too fast and scare her off? No, that's with wild animals, not toddlers. Yet again, the decision of what to do is made for you when she gets her plate and begins to talk to you.

Throughout dinner, Duncan can hardly eat, so wrapped up in watching you interact with his daughter as you listen to every word she says and chat with her about whatever she's deemed more important than her food. He's not sure of the last time that he was ever this happy; maybe the day Elizabeth was born? Listening to you laugh at one of the jokes she learned at nursery school and has told at least a hundred times by now, he's sure that he made the right choice in saying that he wants you around for a while.

//

IDK who even would want to read this so I'm just tagging a couple of people @sojournmichael @michaellangdon @xavierplympton @blakescoven @mrslangdonn @michaellangdonstanaccount

[hawkland]

(Mostly) Destiel Fic Recs #5

This is a LONG recs post because it’s been a while since I did an update and I fell hard into reading one author’s work (DeanRH). In fact I could easily do a rec post just of their fics alone, but for this round I’m just going to pick out a handful of my absolute favorites so far, the ones I’d recommend to start out with, along with more other authors’ works I’ve especially enjoyed lately.

Absolution at the Five-and-Dime by DeanRH (125k)  - this is perhaps THEE DeanRH fic to start with if you want a good, long read with a little bit of everything (Roadtrips! Intriguing casefic! Americana! Tasty Dean/Cas pining! Wing!kink and unique angel lore! Kinky soul fisting and tentacles!) It’s kind of two of parallel stories in one: the first, a flashback to Dean and Sam's first year hunting on their own (as well as trying to avoid hunting, and John in general); the second on how Dean and Cas finally get together during an unusual case and when Dean is able to really let go of his past trauma and accept himself/accept love from Cas. 

What I love about DeanRH’s work is that they write from the unique point of view of a drifter, so they understand living on the road, traveling place to place, and the highs and lows of that life like no others I’ve encountered in SPN before. (The author’s notes are often as much fun to read as the stories themselves). They also write a kickass angel!Cas and never lose sight of his non-human traits and background. Their writing style is unique - almost poetic in nature, and I know some readers have found it difficult to get into. But it works really well for me in their SPN fic...gives it the flavor of oral story telling as might actually happen at a drifter’s camp (with one story written exactly as such). Be warned this particular fic does play up the idea of John Winchester being mentally abusive and Dean having to turn tricks when he was younger in order to support him and Sam, so there is some dark stuff. But as someone who grew up with mentally abusive parent, reading this was extremely cathartic to me and believably written (unlike some stories that go too over the top with abusive John, or just don't understand how that kind of abuse leaves lifetime psychological scars.)

The rest of this round’s recs below the cut.

Carnevale by DeanRH (18k) - Actually the first fic by this author I read, because I just couldn’t resist a story set in my favorite place in the world, Venice, Italy. Castiel is the Angel of Venice, banished there for so long he does not even know or remember the reasons why. But Carnevale season is the one time a year he can let his wings out - figuratively and literally. And during this particular Carnevale season, he meets an intriguing masked young American tourist there with his brother and their one night stand turns into something far more powerful than either expected. This one’s hot, romantic, and achingly sad at the end as it all ties together unexpectedly with canon-verse...though with a hint for the future so it’s definitely not totally sad. I loved how DeanRH clearly understands Venice as a fellow lover of the city, the side of it most tourists never see unless they spend a long time there. This story made me cry just from wanting to be back in Venice again.

Ice cream was sweeter, food more satisfying, everything was an epicurean delight. There was just something magical about Venice, and he had lived here in the city for hundreds of years, so the shine should have worn off by now.

But it didn't, and there was always something more, something wonderful to discover around the next corner. The painted eaves of a church. The beauty of two women dancing with flowers in their teeth across the Piazza San Marco one day, overcome by the sheer joy of just being there. The way the university students still created Venetian masks, like Castiel's extravagant volto mask and Dean's humble servetta muta, with crafts that had been handed down across the generations. The morning silence that lay against the stones.

Hard Landing by DeanRH (26.9k) - A bit similar in theme to Carnevale. A pre-series Dean and Sam are sight-seeing in Spain when an angel, struck by a babel-spell, crash lands right in front of Dean. A strange yet seriously hot encounter with the angel turns into something much more complicated when the brothers return home and realize something more serious is afoot and they are both trapped in the middle of it. This is another story where things are very much not as they seem at first (as fun as that is!) It features master strategist Cas at his best, with a side helping of delightful trickery care of Gabriel and Balthazar as they deal with Lucifer, Michael...and a few others along the way.

The Sacred Band of Thebes by DeanRH (14.5k) - The last DeanRH fic I’m gonna allow myself to include in this round up, because it’s just very soft and sweet and beautiful - for a story about Dean & Cas being magically transported back in time to ancient Sparta! This is another story infused with a great knowledge of place and history, with some wonderfully delightful original characters added in that make it all the more enjoyable to read.

And now on to some other authors, I promise!

IPAMIS OL OLPRIT by emmbrancsxx0 (56k). A really wonderful fic that take a different look at what might have happened with a temporarily resurrected John Winchester during Season 14. Dean & Cas are in an established relationship here, and John here isn’t too happy about it — though mostly because he sees Cas (and Jack) as monsters, the kind of monsters he spent his lifetime hunting. This is a great fic for the emotional complexity of how John, Dean and Cas are all handled. John isn’t a cardboard evil dad, Dean is struggling between his loyalty to his father and to Cas, and Cas is increasingly bitchy/frustrated at Dean still being so desperate for his father’s approval (and all the more complex for not just being a quietly suffering perfect supporting boyfriend.) There’s some great action sequences in this too along with the emotional angst and a delicious dose of hurt!Cas if that’s your thing (as it is for me :D)

Abrenuntio by Neonbat (51k). A very dark but compelling AU take on the/a apocalypse universe. Dean, Sam and John are all alive in this post-angel war-apocalyptic world. They are part of a group of human survivors fighting against the angel army when they manage to capture “Blue” — a particularly feared angel of death. Dean is tasked with bringing Blue in for interrogation and he becomes a prisoner in their camp after John is killed. As mentioned, this is a pretty dark/sad fic (with some rather gruesome torture scenes) but I still found it quite compelling as a look at how things could have gone in some other parallel universe. And somehow the author manages to make the Dean/Cas relationship come together despite them starting out as complete enemies. This is one of those AUs that works for me because the core of the characters really shine through despite the differences in the setting.

if it all fell to pieces tomorrow by spocklee (37k) - a gorgeous post-Empty rescue fic that takes an approach I haven’t really seen explored in detail before (despite being something I’ve actually thought about as something that could’ve happened.) What if Cas has spent so long denying himself happiness, and then trapped in regrets and false-rescue scenarios created by the Empty, that he can’t trust that his rescue is real? And so he runs off to be on his own - literally stealing the Impala because he can’t handle being in Dean’s presence one moment longer - and only slowly comes to terms with the idea that it’s over now and he can be happy with/around his friends and family. This one’s both deliciously angsty and at times funny/sweet, looking at Cas’s relationships not just with Dean but with Sam, Jack, Claire, even Eileen. It does some fun stuff with other returned angels and demons who now find themselves back on Earth (and human), and...I just really enjoyed this one a lot.

Both Saved and Lost by angelfishofthelord (13.7k) Gen Cas character study, absolutely gorgeous and sad and one of those fic I couldn’t stop thinking about the day after reading it. AU where Apocaverse!Cas isn’t immediately killed by our Cas during 13x22 but instead hitches a ride back to the main ‘verse. Dean and Sam want to keep him alive for information on Michael; Cas is torn and trying to figure out just how similar—or different—they really are. Some great angel stuff here (I also highly recommend this author’s Jack & Cas “dadstiel” fics, they’re equally lovely and heartbreaking at the same time.)

flesh of the mighty by Mudprophet (2.7k) - THEE “What exactly did Dean eat in Purgatory, anyway?” fic you’ve probably already heard about. *cough* I’ve been trying to work up the courage to read this one for a while and finally gave in and OH MY CHUCK I’m so glad I did. It’s perversely disturbing and beautiful at the same time, Cas is wonderfully DERANGED and ALIEN in that way that I love it when fics managed to convey just how much angels are NOT human. Do heed the tags.

Full of Grace by ilovehowyouletmefall (11k) - Another one for the weird-as-fuck-angel!Cas lovers’ list. Heaven/canon-compliant fic where Dean knows he should feel happy and at peace but he just...isn’t, even with Cas and all of his friends and family there. He finally goes looking for Cas when he’s been absent for a time and, for the first time, gets to not just see but experience his true form. Another one that hits some kinks I knew I had and others I didn’t...until now. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

don't ask me where i've been by saltwound / @1x06 (8k) - I can never resist a good 09x06 fiction gap fic! What makes this one really stand out is how well it captures Cas’s internal voice - his struggles adapting to human senses, limitations and emotions versus what/how he experienced things as an angel. The longing and feelings between Dean & Cas here are so achingly beautiful and I just wanted to cry when Cas says he misses hearing Dean’s prayers, so Dean, he...oh, I’m not going to spoil it. *happy sigh* Just read it.

this room is wrong by DarkHeartInTheSky (12k) - Sometimes I like torturing myself with some good 15x03 divorce arc angst and this fic hit that button just so. It’s an alternative take on where Cas might have ended up after leaving the bunker and features some great Cas & Sam friendship feels, when Sam sets out to try to bring Cas home. It’s all the stuff you’d wish the writers would’ve let them talk out in canon.

Well that’s more than enough for this round! Go forth, read and give some great writers some kudos & comment love!

[mali-umkin]

Les canchons din ch’nord

There are so many well-known songs from the North of France, so I’ll stick to the ones that are an important part of my childhood, either because I learnt them at school, heard them during ducasses or every Sunday during family dinner. Some are in standard French, others in Ch’ti (the picard-derived dialect spoken in the Nord and Nord-Pas-de-Calais).

Les Corons - Pierre Bachelet

“Au Nord, c’était les corons                                                                                  La Terre, c’était le charbon                                                                                   Le Ciel c’était l’horizon,                                                                                      Les Hommes des mineurs de fond”

La Marseillaise is for the people of France (and beyond); Les Corons is for the people of the North, it is the région’s anthem. Certainly the most famous song about the région too - just hearing the beginning makes me cry, this song is home. The corons are the working-class housing found mainly in the Nord-Pas-de-Calais and Belgium that was built for miners: all the houses are made of ‘red’ brick, and all look alike. This song is both a celebration of the région despite its lack of natural beauties (”Et j’avais des terrils à défaut de montagnes/And I had terrils instead of montains, the terrils are artificial hills made of coals you find everywhere here) and also denounces the miners' terrible working conditions, who died of illness (silicose) or in accidents, and always battled for their rights (hence the reference to Jean Jaurès). 

(Another favourite version by the Stentors: it really sounds like an anthem then, and it was shot in front of our most famous mine and its terrils).

Les gens du Nord - Enrico Macias

“Les gens du Nord

Ont dans leurs yeux le bleu qui manque à leur décor                                       

Les gens du Nord                                                                                                Ont dans le coeur le soleil qu’ils n’ont pas dehors”

Very, very well known by all here and across the country - a beautiful song about the kindness and bravery of the people of the North; in other words, quite the romantic portrayal of the place. Here again, the coal becomes mountains. 

Galibot

“Galibot, tu seras Galibot                                                                               Galibot, tu seras - Galibot !”

This song is terribly sad, because as a child I loved it, it sounds so joyful and hopeful; but in fact the joy here belongs to two parents and their child, who are so very happy and proud he is finally old enough to become a galibot, which was the name given to 13-year-old boys working in the mines.

Mademoiselle From Armentière - Line Renaud

“Elle ne savait même pas parler qu’elle savait déjà chanter                         

Mad’moiselle from Armentière !”

Oh, we love this one a lot. It is the story of a demoiselle from the city of Armentière (who knew how to sing before she could speak according to the song), who married an English general, hence the Mademoiselle from Armentière. It is based on a true ‘story’: her name was Marie Lecocq, and former British soldiers erected a statue in her honour in the Armentière hospital. The song became an hymn sung by the Commonwealth soldiers during the Great War, and was originally written by a British officer.

Le P’tit Quinquin - Alexandre Desrousseaux (poem), Raoul (singer)

“Ainsi, l'aut' jour eun' pauv' dintellière,

In amiclotant sin p'tit garchon

Qui d'puis tros quarts d'heure, n'faijot qu'braire,

Tâchot d'linformir par eun' canchon.

Ell' li dijot : Min Narcisse,

D'main, t'aras du pain n'épice

Du chuc à gogo

Si t'es sache et qu'te fais dodo ! “

This one is in Ch’ti, and is a lullaby. The lyrics are about a mother begging her child to go to sleep, and promising him all sorts of treats as a reward. 

Un Clair de Lune à Maubeuge - Bourvil

“Tout ça n'vaut pas

Le doux soleil de Roubaix (coin-coing ! vous êtes ridicule!)                             

Tout ça n'vaut pas                                                          Une croisière sur la Meuse

Tout ça n'vaut pas faire du sport au Kremlin biceps”

If you want to learn about the geography of the North, this is your song: it lists all its famous towns (even the sweet sun of Tourcoing...).

Les Tomates - Renaud

“I mingeot des tomates

Des tomates des tomates

Cheul pauf' garchon i savot bin

Qui-étot marqué par el destin

Mais i s'disot pour es' faire eun' rason

Ch'arot pu ête l'sason des melons”

In Ch’ti - it is the sad story of a boy named Edmond whose destiny was to be unhappy and unable to fulfill his dreams, as the song states he cannot escape his fate (tomatoes): he works as a gardener and only tomatoes grow in his garden; he hopes he will get watermelons, and never does; he wants a wife, never has one; goes away and hopes to become a singer, people throw tomatoes at him; the song ends by stating he didn’t resist the harshness of life, and is buried in his native town. Tomatoes grow on his grave. We learnt this stanza after stanza every week at school: when after all of this he didn’t get a happy end, I was apparently the only one positively devastated. 

Petit Jean revenant de Lille 

“Petit Jean revenant de Lille,

Co, co, co, se dira la, la !

Petit Jean revenant de Lille,

Tout chargé de rémolas,

Tout chargé de rémolas.”

A traditional song from Lille, telling the story of Jean coming back from work. He is about to eat his supper, but his cat steals the meat: who is he going to punish, the cat or his wife? The former will scratch him, the second will get revenge -thus, it is wiser not to do anything. We learnt this one at school and until the beginning of the year I thought Lille was l’île (well, he could be coming back from an isle if he was... Breton), and I am still shaken by the discovery we were in fact talking about our regional capital city. 

[sergeantsporks]

Nowhere Else to Go

Rating: Teen, Gen

Graphic depictions of violence, Major character death.

TW: Self-harm, mentioned child abuse, emotional manipulation

Chapter 3/4: Smoke and Mirrors

Ch 1, Ch 2

The sound of shattering glass woke Lilith up.

She rubbed her eyes. Why was she on the floor in Eda’s room? Oh. Right. Hunter. Where was he?

She shuffled towards the direction of the sound she’d heard and opened the bathroom door. Hunter was sitting on the floor, coughing, holding Belos’ mask over his face. The mirror was broken in a spiderweb of cracks, and Lilith glanced at Hunter’s hand to see bruises forming on his knuckles. She slid down the wall to sit next to him.

“I never liked that mirror either.”

His shoulders shook. “I keep looking in the mirror—and it’s his face, and it’s his curse, and I—”

Lilith got up and left, returning with a blanket. She walked up to the mirror, her own face reflecting back at her in a thousand broken shards. She covered up the mirror with the blanket, using a plant glyph to tie it in place. She sat back down to Hunter, imitating his arms-on-knees position. She didn’t say anything, just sat there.

“I just—I think I remember some of it, he had this book, and he had all of this stuff, and then… I don’t know anymore.” Hunter slowly lowered the mask, setting it on the floor. “I woke up, and he was gone, and I was stuck like this.”

“Luz… Luz told me that one of the Palisman chose you. Where did it—”

To Lilith’s surprise, Hunter’s eyes welled up with tears, and he shrank back into himself, burying his face in his arms. She heard a muffled sob, and his shoulders shook even harder

“Oh.” Lilith reached out and tentatively put an arm around his shoulders, giving him a squeeze. “I’m sorry.”

He made surprisingly little noise for how hard his shoulders were heaving. Lilith got up and left, closing the bathroom door. The instant she was out, she heard him start sobbing. Her hand shook on the doorknob, and she dropped with a thud to her knees, leaning against the bathroom door.

“Lilith?” her mother said quietly, poking her head up the stairs.

She got up, making her way down to the kitchen. “Good morning.”

“Is he…”

“I think… I think he’s finally had the time to process what happened to him. Got over the shock.”

“And…”

“He’s angry. Sad. Unsure of what he’s doing.”

“Ah.”

Lilith heard a thud from upstairs, and she grabbed a bottle of elixir, running back to the bathroom. Hunter was choking on the curse again, and he clawed desperately at Lilith’s hand when she knelt next to him.

“I’ve got you,” she promised, tilting the bottle of elixir down his throat, “That’s it. Easy, there.”

He coughed up the remaining slime and curled his knees back up to his chest. “Thank you.”

“Do you… need anything?”

He looked down to the side, chest still heaving from the attack. “No. Thank you.”

Lilith stood there awkwardly for a few more moments. “Right. Okay.”

She went back downstairs. “Another attack,” she explained, “I’m wondering if they’re related to stress, or high emotion, like the owl beast is, or if they’re completely random.”

Her mother shifted uneasily. “If it’s like you said and the curse is going to kill him, it might just be that the attacks are getting worse because he’s closer to the end.”

Lilith’s hands curled into fists. “No. No, that’s not going to be his end. I’m not going to let him die because Belos decided—”

Her mother gently took her hand, uncurling the fist and holding her flat hand between her own. “Lilith, love. Calm down. Take a step back. What do we know about the curse?”

Lilith took in a deep breath. “We know Belos struggled for years to find a cure. He was never successful. We know the curse doesn’t follow a soul—if it did, the swap wouldn’t have worked. It follows a body. We know that the elixir has been staving off attacks, at least, so it must share some qualities with the Owl Beast curse.”

“That’s my girl. Keep it up—I’m almost done with breakfast.”

Lilith paced the kitchen floor. “We know it started on the outward appearance first—hence the mask Belos always wore. As time went on, it moved in on the inner organs, like it’s doing now to Hunter. But what about the palisman, where do they fit in?”

“What?”

“Luz teamed up with Hunter when the Emperor was trying to steal palisman—and Hunter had a palisman, but it’s gone now, and he seems pretty distraught about it, so I don’t think it just got lost or separated. Clearly the Emperor is destroying palisman for some reason, but what?!”

“Why don’t you ask Hunter?”

“You heard him crying, right? I don’t think he’s going to be ready to talk about it for a while.”

“He might not have a while, Sweet Flea.”

“Still. I won’t put him through it again.” Lilith leaned against the kitchen cupboard. “I… think he has nightmares. I’ve had curse-related nightmares before, and Eda said she had some—and in some of them she saw me, or at least a shadowy form of me.”

“You think Hunter might have a clue to where the curse came from in his nightmare.”

“It… wouldn’t be fun. For him to relive it. But Hootsifer sent me a letter about how Eda managed to unlock her harpy form from interacting with her curse in an enchanted sleep. If Hunter is okay with it—we may be able to find out more.”

“If he’s okay with it.”

“Who would want to relive their nightmares at full strength?” Lilith asked quietly, “But our options are closing off. If Eda hasn’t seen Hunter’s body running around, there’s not much we can do about getting that rat Belos to switch back. And even if we did catch him, I’m not sure there’s much we could threaten him with that would make him switch back to a dying body. It may be our best bet to cure Belos’ body instead of trying to get Hunter back in his. That would at least give us time to find Belos. Hunter said that the only thing Belos wouldn’t try was wild magic. He thinks that means there’s a cure in the glyphs. I’m not sure though, it might just be that wild magic did this to Belos.”

“Mmm.” Her mother handed her two plates. “One for you, one for your new apprentice.”

Lilith nearly dropped the plates. “App—mother!”

“What? I saw you teaching him magic! Doesn’t that make him your apprentice?”

“It’s more—I don’t know! He can’t do magic without help, I’m not sure that’s something I can—whatever.” Lilith tightened her grip on the plates, thumping up the stairs. The light was still on in the bathroom, and she slowly pushed the door open.

The plates dropped to the floor, and she skidded down on her knees next to him, grabbing his wrists.

“Hunter, no!”

A broken shard of mirror was in his hands, coated in slime and blood. He’d been gouging at the curse on his face, like he could somehow dig the magic out. His breath hitched in his chest, and he struggled against her, trying to get at his face again. Lilith’s stomach heaved as she looked at his face—he’d managed to cut to the bone, but the curse was already moving to cover it up. Blood dripped down his face, like someone in one of Eda’s grotesque horror movies.

“Hunter! Hunter, stop!”

Lilith managed to pry the shard of broken glass out of Hunter’s hands, wincing and dropping it as it cut her. His palms were bloody and scratched up from gripping the shard. He kept trying to yank away from her, his eyes wide and panicked.

“I can’t—lemme go, I have to—I can’t—”

“Hey—Hey, shhhhhhh. Shhhh, it’s okay—Hunter, please—”

He launched himself into her shoulder, sobbing. Blood and slime and tears all mixed on her dress, but Lilith didn’t care. She let him keep crying into her shoulder, gently rubbing his back.

“Hey. Heeeey,” she soothed, like she might for a frightened animal, “Hey, I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

“I can’t keep—I just keep thinking—and then there’s the attacks, and I just—”

“Okay. Okay, I know. I know, it’s…” it was what? Okay? It wasn’t okay, this curse was killing him, and it was driving up his anxiety before it did. So she just hugged him tighter. “I’ve got you,” she repeated fiercely

He sniffed and pulled back. Lilith kicked the mirror shard away and opened up a cabinet. “Okay. Let’s take a look at those cuts.” She carefully bandaged up the slices on his face, then his palm. She bandaged up the cuts on her own hand, too, and held it up. “There. We match.”

“S-sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“Nothing to apologize for.”

“I—I just—I—”

“Hunter. It’s okay. Really.”

He coughed, wiping away slime. “Ugh—I… I think…”

“I think you need a nap,” Lilith suggested gently, “You look awful.”

He gripped her wrist, his fingers like a vise. “No!”

“…Nightmares?” Lilith guessed.

“I can’t—I just keep seeing him, and then it’s me, and my palisman—” his eyes filled with tears. “It was an accident!” he blurted, “I didn’t mean to!”

“Didn’t mean… to do what?”

“Belos would sort of… drain palisman, take all of their magic. It staved off the curse, made it better.”

“O-oh. Did he…”

Hunter’s shoulders started to shake again. “I’d just woken up. I was confused. Belos was gone. I didn’t know where I was, or what was going on, and it tried to comfort me, and—” He buried his face in his hands. “I killed it! I killed—”

Almost involuntarily, Lilith wrapped her arms around him again. “It wasn’t your fault,” she said fiercely, “You weren’t trying to—it was Belos’ fault.”

“It was my friend,” Hunter sobbed, his voice cracking, “It was the only one I had! And I—”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Lilith repeated, “It wasn’t.”

Hunter rubbed the bandages covering his face. “This stupid curse.”

Lilith caught his wrists again, gently pulling his hands away from his injured face. “Eda… has been able to control when she transforms. She made peace with her curse. Accepted it as part of who she is. Maybe if—”

Hunter stood up, hands clenched in fists. “Accept it?! Accept what?! This isn’t my curse! I didn’t do anything to get it, Belos did, and then just dumped it on me. I shouldn’t have to accept it!”

“I know—I know it’s not fair, I know it never should have happened to you, but until we can find Belos, or a cure, we have to figure out other ways to keep it from spreading.”

“I can’t accept it! I—”

Hunter broke off in a fit of coughing, gasping and choking. Lilith grabbed an elixir from her room and raced back down the hallway, tilting the bottle. Hunter gasped and sputtered, and panic started to sweep over Lilith like a tidal wave. It wasn’t working!

Hunter gurgled in a final kind of way, twitching and Lilith laid him flat on the ground, tilting his head back and pushing down with the heel of her hands on his chest. “One, two, three, four,” she started counting under her breath. “MOTHER! HELP!”

She kept pushing. “Please,” she murmured, “please work, please work, please work—”

Feathers were starting to sprout on her arms, and she willed them to go away. “Not now, owl beast!” she pleaded, “Not now! Literally any time but now!”

She pushed harder, tears rolling down her face. “Please!”

Hunter gagged and coughed, heaving in desperate, frantic breaths. He latched onto her arm, hacking and coughing.

“Lilith—”

Lilith clutched his arm just as tightly, although she made sure her claws weren’t hurting him. “Oh my magic—okay. Okay, okay, okay.” She took in a deep breath. “Are you okay?”

He coughed, spitting out more curse slime. “I—I think so. The elixir—why didn’t it work, it was working before-!”

Lilith yanked him into a hug. “I thought I’d lost you!” she gasped.

He tensed for a moment, but then slowly wrapped his arms around her. “I’m… still here.”

To Lilith’s surprise, tears were rolling down her cheeks. “I know, I know.”

Her mother finally burst in the door. “What’s wrong?! What’s going on?!”

“The elixirs aren’t working,” Hunter explained quietly.

Lilith hugged him tighter. “We’ll find something else.”

“…Lilith, dear, can I talk to you?”

Lilith sat back, holding Hunter by the shoulders. “We’re going to figure this out,” she promised, then followed her mother out to her room. “What?”

“… Lilith, if the elixirs aren’t working, I don’t think we have much time left. And you’re not any closer to finding a cure for this thing.”

“No! We’re going to fix this, I’m going to fix this! He’s just a kid, he shouldn’t have to go like this!”

“Sweet Flea, it’s like you said when he first got here. It might just be a matter of making him comfortable before—”

“NO!” Lilith took a deep breath as feathers started to sprout around her neck. “No. That’s not an option. Not anymore. I’m going to get rid of this curse if it’s the last thing I do.”

Ch 4

[reidgraygubler]

a different type of high (pt 7) spencer reid/reader

Title: A Different Type of High (part seven)

Request: no

Couple: spencer reid/gen-neutral!reader

Category: angst, with the tiniest bit of fluff

Content Warning:  mentions of dating while recovering an addiction, mentions of drug use, attending narcotics anonymous, struggling with sobriety, withdrawal and symptoms of withdrawal, mentions and allusions of sex, Swearing, mildly ooc spencer, spencer’s pov,

Word Count: 3,202

Summary: The team confronts Spencer about how close he and reader are getting and are worried about their health and safety.

A/N: there won’t be an update next week, i have a very special/important announcement coming later today that’ll explain why. This is also the last part before the fun parts begin >:) so im also going to take the quickest break for a week and a half. But don’t worry, other things will be post! anyways, thank you all for the love and support! check out my masterlist!

last part   series masterlist  next part

{***}{***}{***}

I looked down at the person sleeping beside me. Their small body was curled into my side and one of their arms was languidly thrown across my body as if I was a stuffed animal. Part of me wondered if they were scared I'd disappear. I wish I could tell them that they didn't have to fear, I wasn't going anywhere unless they wanted me to. Well, other than work, I won’t be leaving them.

I tried to not let my thoughts be just about them, and my worries and fears. But it was hard. They were the first good thing to happen to me in a long time.

I’m sure their thoughts were consumed by me too. In fact, I know their thoughts were filled with me. They’re an addict. They have an addictive personality, and I’m their new addiction. They probably don’t even realize it either. Of course, why would they? They probably don’t even realize it. They live in their own little bubble, with their own rules, and I’m just a part of it. I was glad I was a part of it too. Because, I’m also an addict, and they’re my new addiction.

"Hey," their soft voice pulled me from my thoughts. I looked down at them with a smile. "What're you thinking about? You got that look in your eye," they smiled as they tried pulling the blanket over their body, and tried to hide into my side. 

"Nothing special," I retorted, feeling a warmth spread through my body as they continued to cling to me. "Why? What are you thinking about?" I asked, resting my hand on their back. They rolled so my hand was on their stomach. 

"You," they beamed, sticking their head out from under the blanket. A bright smile grew on their lips as they looked at me. Their hair was a mess and covered their eyes just right. The light from the lamp on the nightstand lit them up just right, showing each imperfection on their face.  A blueish-purpleish spot on their neck caught my attention, and I couldn’t help but smile when I saw it.

"Good things I hope," I watched as they sat up, the blanket pooling around their waist. I tried not to stare at their bare body, but they made it hard as they stretched their arms in the air before turning to look at me. They leaned closer to me, a sly smile growing on their lips.

“Only the best thoughts of you fill my head,” they whispered before not so gracefully pressing their lips to mine. I laughed as I rested my hands on their shoulders to try and steady their body. 

“That’s good, I think,” I raised an eyebrow as I looked back at them. They smiled before slipping out of the bed and grabbing the shirt I wore from the day before.

“I’m going to the bathroom… Don’t go anywhere,” they looked at me before leaning across the bed. I looked up at them with a smile before kissing them softly. “Promise,” their whisper was soft and innocent, as if they were asking their parents a promise not to break. 

“It is my apartment,” I furrowed my eyebrows as I watched them walk away. They looked over their shoulder and right at me before slipping into the bathroom. I pressed my head into the headboard behind me as I waited for them to finish up. It’d be a matter of moments before they returned and I’d have to tell them I’d have to leave for work. I knew they wouldn’t have anything better to do today, other than hanging out at my apartment. Which, I was fine with. They could stay here for as long as they wanted.

“So,” their voice came from the bathroom, causing me to look towards them. They were walking out of the bathroom, looking down at the ground as they walked. I wondered what was going through their head, and I wondered what it was like to be in their mind on a good day. “What are the plans today,” they finally looked up at me with a smile. Their smile was quick to vanish when they saw the pout on my lips. 

“I have to go in today,” I wrapped my arms around their body as they sat beside me. They looked up at me with sadness in their eyes. “Will you be alright without me today?” I asked as I lifted a hand to hold their head against my arm.

“Can I stay here?” they looked up at me through their eyelashes and a pout on their lips. I looked back at them and nodded. “I have some errands to do anyways… But, can I stay when I’m done?” 

“Of course you can, I have no issue with that,” I whispered and nodded. They looked at me and smiled before pressing their lips to both my cheeks. They were quick as they moved to straddle my legs and wrap their arms around my neck.

“Thank you, Spencer,” they spoke in a soft whisper. I returned the smile and rested my hands on their hips. “I wish you didn’t have to work today. Wish we could stay here… together,” they whispered as they played with the hair on the back of my neck.

“Oh, I’ll be home before you even know it,” I looked up at them with a small smile on my lips. Their pout slowly turned into a smile as they looked at me. There was a certain joy and excitement in their eyes as they looked at me. And, I wondered what it was that they saw in me. I was in no way, shape, or form perfect. I don’t want to make it seem like they are, because they aren’t. But, some parts of them are. Maybe in another timeline, they were absolutely perfect, and nothing bad was happening to either of us. 

“You look like you’re thinking too hard, Spencer,” they laughed at me. I looked at them and shook my head. 

“I was just thinking that I should get ready for work. I want to get coffee on the way and I don’t want to be late,” I lifted a finger and poked their nose. Their nose wrinkled as I withdrew my finger from their face.   A sneaky smile grew across their lips before they stuck their tongue out at me. 

“I can’t believe you’d rather leave early and get coffee than hang out with me a little bit longer,” they placed a hand over their heart, feigning pain and heartbreak. I couldn’t help but laugh again. “Hurt, really, truly hurt by your laughter, Spencer,” they sighed, dropping their shoulders and tilting their head to the side. 

“Maybe next time, if you wake up early enough, you can come with me to get coffee,” my hands ran up and down their arms as I looked up at them. They sighed before falling into my body, becoming a heavy lump as the seconds passed. “But, I seriously have to get ready,” I groaned as their weight stilled on me.

“But, what if you didn’t have to get ready and go in,” they spoke into my chest. I sighed, resting my hands on their back. 

“C’mon, I can’t be late,” I tried to get them off me. And with a deep sigh and cry, they climbed off my body. “We can blame Hotch,” I laughed as I stood up. 

“Stupid boss. Making you go to work,” they grumbled as they grabbed their jeans. I watched as they tried to reach for one of my cardigans. Part of me almost told them not to take it, but I knew they’d put up a fight and win it anyways. So, I let them.

“Just this once, I do like wearing my sweaters at work,” I watched as they slipped the sweater onto their arms. They looked at me and smiled, hugging their arms around their body. 

“I’ll bring them back, promise,” they replied, watching as I got dressed.

“Part of me doesn’t believe you,” I looked over at them as I began to tie my tie. They stepped up to me and smoothed out my tie as I tried to reach for a different cardigan.

“That’s fair, but… Think about it, Spencer, this is the first sweater I’m stealing from you,” they smiled as they began to button the cardigan I was wearing.

“I am thinking… And… Still waiting for the jacket I gave you the first night we met,” I furrowed my eyebrows as I looked at them. Their smile faltered slightly as their fingers continued to button my sweater. It was obvious they were trying to keep their eyes off me, looking at my sweater instead of looking at my face. 

“Well, you see, I…” they closed one of her eyes as they tried to come up with a lie. I lifted my hand and brought it up to rest under their chin. “Okay, okay, I still have it… I just… don’t want to give it back,” their words trailed off as they spoke. I smiled and pulled my hand away from their face. “But, if you really want it back… I can return it,” they sighed as they looked up at me. I looked down at them and cocked my head to the side.

“I’ll think about it. Now, I definitely don’t have time for coffee,” I smiled before pecking their lips. They smiled before allowing me to go put pants on. 

“That was my plan the whole time,” they smiled before leaving the bedroom, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

They were in my kitchen, and they were probably acting like it was our kitchen, like it was our home. I was honestly okay with that too… Hell, they even slept in the same bed as me (and done a little more than just sleep in said bed some nights). They basically lived with me at this point in time, without them having their belongings here. The thought of asking them to move in with me had passed my mind. But, a part of me wasn’t sure that was a good idea. Although, I’d love it if they lived with me. We’re each other’s distractions. Accountability Buddies, as they would put it. 

Maybe I should just ask them? The worst they would say is no, right? But, I know them enough to know they wouldn’t say no.

Just as I finished putting my shoes on, the sounds of clatter came from somewhere out of the room. I could only assume they were in the kitchen, making what I could only hope was coffee. Knowing them, they probably felt bad about delaying my leaving. I don’t blame them. I felt bad for leaving them. But, they didn’t have to go out of their way to make me coffee...

“You still like a lot of sugar and cream, right!?” Their voice carried from the kitchen to my room as they shouted. I raised an eyebrow as a loud crash, followed by a list of profanities, came from the kitchen. “Everything is okay!” They shouted. I furrowed my eyebrows as I finished tying my shoes. When I stood up, I looked at my reflection, making sure I looked acceptable for the workday, and once I was pleased with how I looked, I made way for the sudden disaster in the kitchen. I’d be lying if I said I was looking forward to seeing what mess they had made.

“Made you coffee,” they smiled at me as they held up a plain white porcelain mug. I smiled before taking it from them and bringing it to my lips.

“You’re the best person in the world,” I looked at them as I took a sip. Part of me almost included ‘In fact, you’re my favorite person in the world,’. But, I figured that was for a different time. They smiled before stepping in front of a pile on the ground. My eyes looked between the shattered mug, and their ‘I’m not guilty’ expression. 

“I’ll clean it up,” they muttered once they realized I saw the shards of a broken mug, “Have a good day,” they bounced up to me before pressing their lips to mine. They hummed as they wrapped their arms around me to hold me close.

“You too,” I whispered before pecking their lips one last time. They looked up at me as I succeeded sliping free from their grip and to leave. I looked down at my watch. At the rate I was moving, I’d be only a few minutes late. Hopefully no one at the office will be mad that I’m late. They shouldn’t care too much, right? There have been times Derek was late, or Emily… It shouldn’t be too much of a problem… I hope.

When I finally did arrive at the office, I dropped my empty mug off at mydesk, before finding my way to the conference room. And, just as I had thought, everyone was already there, and the briefing had already started. 

I tried to not feel embarrassed that everyone stared at me as I took a seat beside Jennifer and Emily. But it was hard when their stares felt judgemental. They hadn’t treated me any different since I told them about my problems and addiction. In fact, they 100% supported me. I just think they were happy that I was getting help instead of suffering in silence. I didn’t have it in me to tell them that I suffered for the better part of a year after Tobias Henkle, I just got scared. 

“Sorry I’m late,” I muttered as I sat. Aaron looked over at me with a mildly worried look in his eye. “We slept in a little and then I started running late.” I made up, even though it wasn’t a total lie. 

“Says the mark on your neck,” Emily looked down at the table, her eyes scanning the file she had. I glanced over at her, feeling a flame grow over my neck. I found myself looking down, my hands instantly went to my neck to cover the marks that were put there last night by a certain someone. 

“Oh! My man! You getting some?” Derek looked over at me with a smirk. I looked up at him with wide eyes, my hands slipping away from my neck. 

“Shut up,” I muttered before looking back down at the table. I sighed deeply before flipping the case file. “Frankly, it’s none of your business,” I glanced at him for a moment before looking back down at the file. 

“Spence,” Jennifer looked at me, her voice soft. I had to hold back from snapping, because I almost did. Just because she’s my best friend, doesn’t exactly mean she, or anyone for that fact, gets to ask about my sex life or what happens at home.  

“I don’t know what you guys want me to say,” I shrugged as I looked at everyone, “I’m obviously not going to lie, but, I don’t want to tell you that. That’s private,” I wrinkled my nose as I spoke. The room fell silent for a moment before Jennifer spoke.

“You’ve been spending a lot of time with-”

“I don’t know what you're talking about, Jennifer,” I looked at her with a mild annoyance on my face.

“You’ve gotten pretty close to them, that’s all,” Jennifer looked over at me. I lowered the file I was reading and looked over at her with a raised eyebrow. Derek was the next person to look at me.

“I never said anything about a relationship with them… With anyone actually,” I spoke sternly. 

“So what? We just hang out with each other. We’re each other’s accountability partners. That’s it,” I stated, feeling the lie burn up my throat and through my teeth. I could sense that they knew it was a lie too. So, no one said anything for a moment. Until Emily did.

“Spencer, you know this. People who are recovering from an addiction shouldn’t be in a relationship. It can be dangerous for both people in the party,” Emily looked over at me. I looked back at her, trying not to attack her as I’ve done in the recent past. But, she keeps talking to me like she knows me. She doesn’t know me. Not like the other members of the team. Not like the person at home knows me. 

“They… they make me feel better,” I whispered, my words trailing off before looking away from everyone. I could feel their stares and silent judgments drilling into my body. No matter what I would say to them, they’d have a comeback. “We’re just friends,” it was a lie. Everyone knew that it was a lie too. I’m not sure what we were, but we weren’t just friends. I didn’t want to risk losing them though. I didn’t want to tell the team that they'd further judge me. 

“I think that’s a conversation for another day,” Jennifer looked at me, almost like she was reading my mind. I looked back at her, feeling my heart slow to a near stop. I hoped she’d forget about having a conversation about this. But, it’ll probably be on her mind for the rest of forever.

However, I was grateful the pain-staking conversation came to an end when my phone began ringing. I was quick to pull it out of my pocket, only to see that it was my home phone calling me. I furrowed my eyebrows for a moment before realizing who it was calling me.

“Excuse me, I have to take this,” I looked back up at each individual person before stepping out of the room. 

“This is Doctor Spencer Reid,” my voice was low as I spoke. I didn’t want anyone around to listen in on my conversation, though it’d be one-sided for that person.

“Hey,” their voice was just as low as mine, and I could tell something was wrong, “Hey, I... I, uh… I know you don’t like it when I call… When you’re on, uh… You’re at the office. But I think… I think someone was followin- Spencer, I think someone’s trying to break in,” their voice was shaky and that confirmed there was something wrong. 

“Spencer, what… What do I do?” 

“Don’t… Listen, don’t worry, I’ll be back soon. Okay?” I tried to not let a shakiness grow in my voice. But it was clear something was wrong. I swallowed roughly before shaking my head. 

“Spen-Please.. Please hur-” and then the line went silent. I furrowed my eyebrows before pulling my phone from my ear, looking at the screen that once had an on-going call. 

I quietly whispered their name after I pressed my phone to my ear. When it was quiet, I took a deep shaky breath before turning to re-enter the conference room.

“That was… Someone… Someone broke into my apartment… While…” my words trailed off as I looked at the people around the table. Everyone looked at me as they realized what I was saying, without actually saying it. “I don’t know if they’re okay… Please… Help me,” 

series taglist: @shameleswhorehourstm , @itsametaphorbriansblog , @bxtchboy69 , @sammypotato67 , @seninjakitey , @thatsonezesty13 , @thebluetint , @honestlystop , @herecomesthewriterwitch , @mediocrity-atitsfinest , @honeyboysteezy , @aluna190 , @mggsprettygirl , @vampiracontessa , @takeyourleap-of-faith​ , @cielo1984

tags that didn’t work: @mediocrehamiltrash @exilereid 

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[infinitegalahad]

RAY IN THE BATHROOM

Summary: Ray is hiding in a bathroom and has a panic attack over the fact that his only real friend and the love of his life has (supposedly) left him for Brad.

Word-Count: 2.1k

Warnings: References of suicidal thoughts, ptsd, and severe anxiety. Brad is a semi-asshole. Hop on the angst train (with fluff at the end!)

A/N: I was listening to Be More Chill because let's just say that I can heavily relate to Micheal In The Bathroom due to recent events in my life. So then again, what better way to cope then using my biggest kin, Ray Person, in a totally not self indulgent fic?? Also as for the prompt requests-i'm working on them! Sorry, school has been bad. I'm keeping a promise to myself to release at least once a a week and I'm on a gen kill rampage. Idk what else to add so enjoy!

Taglist: @theboardwalkbody

Masterlist | Send In A Prompt!

Ray doesn’t expect himself to be hanging in the bathroom at their first year reunion. But instead of “hanging”, he’s hiding. Those emotions that never come out are now coming back to haunt him. Ray knows he can't hide behind a shit eating grin and sunglasses. He leaned up against the tub inside of the cramped room, his sunglasses tucked into the neck of his polo as tears sting his eyes.

Ray’s legs felt numb and he knows if he looks into the mirror and sees his flushed face and eyes, he won’t be able to conceal his crying. He’s not able to go back outside and would prefer to fake pee or just check his phone in the bathroom.

“C’mon brah!” Q-tip whined like a child, crossing his legs. “This hurts like a butt cheek on a stick”

“You can’t come in!” Ray yelled as he held back a sob, “The little man is going. Suck it up, buttercup.”

Q-tip had been knocking on the door for over ten minutes before giving up and choosing to pee outside. Ray let out a shaky sigh and fell onto the thin side of the bathtub, biting his lip and he batted his wet eyes with his palms.

Ray and y/n had been an unexpected trio. Partners in crime, double trouble, you went well together despite their differences. You were an educated college student and he was a whiskey tango mess who couldn’t shut his mouth for the life of it. You cried, laughed, and did everything together. Little known to y/n, Ray didn’t have a crush on her-but he was more than in love.

However, when Ray is having severe social anxiety, an event he would typically rely on y/n to help him with, his “partner in crime” falls short. Ray knows that y/n is light years better than him. Here was the smartest and most beautiful woman he had met next to a college dropout who didn’t make it past Geometry.

Now the “perfect pair” is severed, leaving one half alone in the bathroom.

Ray’s forgotten how long he’s been in the bathroom for. These types of events always felt forced, and everyone knew that. Whenever that awkwardness would arise, Ray and y/n would choose to ditch and steal a few beers and sit in the bathtub, watching an obscure eighties film in the dark, cramped room with Ray’s god awful commentary.

But even though Ray has Born American downloaded, he can’t bring himself to watch it. Now he’s laying in the bathtub, picking at grout as he softly grieves. He’s hiding in there while y/n is ignoring all of their history.

Ray first arrived at the party, making a dramatic entrance. He made sure everybody knew that he was there, especially y/n. His original plan was to wear a purple tux he had snatched from walamrt since it was ugly as fuck, and Ray knew that. But knowing that you were going to be there, Ray made an attempt with an expensive navy polo and khaki shorts, courtesy of Nate.

Upon seeing you, Ray ran over from whatever he was doing to talk to you. Whether you were OD’S or a casual jumpsuit, you looked dead drop gorgeous-and Ray never knew how to express his affections. So he pulled you into a hug and muttered a shitty joke, and you just laughed.

Over the course of the next hour, the two of you catched up about your mundane lives. It made Ray feel guilty since he knew that you were better than him in every way possible, on the road of success. Your future sounded like you would go to some fancy school and then marry a lawyer. Ray wanted to be good for you, but he didn’t know how to at all. He followed you around like a lost puppy for the rest of the party, feeling a tinge of jealousy whenever one of the guys would give you a chaste hug or when you wouldn't pay attention to him for five minutes.

Ray didn’;t know why the fuck eh was feeling so sappy. It wasn’t like the two of you were dating (even though that’s exactly what he wanted).

Ray doesn’t hate Brad, but he just hates whenever he talks to you. He sees the two of you, smiling and laughing as you catch u[. Ray knows it’s rude, but he buds in and offers to get drinks for the “three amigos”. You kindly accept and Ray goes away to get drinks. He makes sure to spit inside of Brad’s drink as a childish act of revenge.

As Ray walks down the hallway balancing the three drinks, he pauses to hide behind the door since he hear’s Brad mention his name. You and Brad had moved to the couch, sitting too close for Ray’s comfort levels. He had an arm slung over the couch, which was barely touching you, but Ray had taken it as an offense.

Standing by the doorway and leaning, he overheard Brad’s words.

“Ray’s a little shit, whiskey tango loser, sister fucking, type of man. I don’t know what you see in him,” Brad had casually said, cold and straight to the point. He truly lived up to his name.

That’s when Ray dropped the drinks and ran towards the bathroom. He didn’t hear you respond, and that was the last thing he needed to hear.

Now Ray’s sitting in the tub, no longer holding tears back, but there coming out. A sob escapes his mouth and he tries to smile, but he can’t. He gets a taste of his salty tears and tries to stop the waterworks, but they come back, bigger and faster. It’s been a while since he had a good cry-but it happened at one of the most inconvenient times. And it was over a stupid girl-who he coulnd’t deny that he was in love with.

But y/n was lightyears ahead of him. Besides, Brad was (seemingly) a better fit for her. The scenario began to play in Ray’s wild mind. The memories of “double trouble” will get erased. Their wedding will be small, paid for by the Colberts. Q-Tip will DJ, Godfather will make a speech with his horrid voice, and Ray will make a shitty joke as usual. Worst had come to the worst.

Ray hears a drunk Q-tip sing along through the door to “I wanna dance with somebody”. His feelings sink even deeper cause it makes him think; now there’s no one to make fun of drunk girls with anymore. That was y/n’s favorite hobby about these forced get-togethers.

Ray knew that at some point, he’d be forced to come out. As he chokes back the incoming tears, he waits until his face becomes dry, planning to blame it on weed or something in his eyes or the five bud lights he regrets drinking.

Knock, knock, knock, knock

Ray looks up and wipes his face, forcing a fake laugh. “Oh hell yeah, I'll be out soon.”

“Ray, it’s me.” It’s y/n’s voice, and Ray can’t believe it’s her. A part of him wants her to come in, but the other part wants him to defend himself.

“Why do you want me to come out when you can hang out with your new big strong viking? Who talks all educated and shit since you just love being around him.” Ray spits out with a few sniffles.

Based on his words and the sniffles, you can tell something is clearly wrong.

You shake your head and lightly knock again, “Please, that’s not what happened. Brad’s an idiot, and we’re just friends. “Please, come out.”

Ray got out from the tub and came close to the door, feeling your frantic breathes again the door. “My biggest mistake was showing up. I wished I stayed up watching cable porn, or I offered myself. Besides, he’s better for you. Just go away.”

Hearing him say such things made you worry even more, afraid that he could do something to himself that he’d regret.

“Ray, open the damn door. Don’t say dumb shit.” You pleaded, frantically twisting the door knob. The worry was evident in your voice.

“No, fuck you! Fuck this whole place. You’re smart; just leave me alone.” Ray banged against the door as tears came down his face. He immediately regretted his choice of words, knowing that they would hurt you. He turned away to return to the bathtub, only to stop when he heard you now sniffling.

Mega fuck.

Ray reluctantly walks back to the door and opens it, to see your face, all red and wet like this. Both of you stood there, disheveled, tears both running down your face.

Not a single word was spoken between the two of you as you ran into his arms, pulling him close as you cried into his chest. Ray used his foot to slam the door shut and then proceeded to pull you into a bearhug, stroking the back of your head as he comforted you through your sobs.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” He repeated as his tears stained your shoulder as well, “I didn’t-fuck. I’m such a retar-” He froze, knowing that you hated that word. “Idiot. I just-fuck. Don’t cry. You’ll ruin all the stuff on your face-”, Ray said as he tilted your face up and started to wipe your tears.

“Makeup. ‘S fine, I’m not wearing much. I just didn’t wanna get mistaken for a middle schooler again.”

Ray and you both let out a chuckle in the midst of your shared crying session. He’s still wiping the tears from your face as you rest your arms on his waist.

“First time we met, y’know. Godfather thought you had a dick for a long time.” Ray added, which earned another laugh from you.

You shook your head, “Remember when Trombley found out I was a girl?”

“Looked like he was about to shit himself-he wouldn’t leave you alone.”

“Ugh, ‘s a nightmare.” The two of you filled the void with the awakened laughter you shared. Ray’s tiny hands moved to your chin, directing it slightly up.

“I still think you’re pretty hot either way, angel.” Ray confessed. The two of you looked at each other for a minute, seeing the love and pupils widen in both of your eyes. Standing on your toes, you and Ray’s lips gently pecked at each other. You could taste the bud light on his lips as Ray’s lips overpowered yours, gently cupping and sucking passionately.

“Fuck,” Ray breathed through the kiss as your foreheads touched, “I love you.”

“Shit, I’ve been waiting for you to say that,” You chuckled as your finger’s played with Ray’s dark hair. It’s gotten longer, and it’s at a length where he can awkwardly style it, but since Ray is Ray-it’s a mess, “I love you too. I’m sorry about Brad, you know how he is.”

“I just thought you and him were having a moment. I just started overthinking it since I thought you didn't wanna be around me. Which is chill, I was vibing,” Ray attempted to joke, which was a way to cope with his pain.

You shake your head and hold his face to reassure him. Ray looks down at you in awe, which makes a smile curve on your lips.

“Brad wasn’t touching me, he just was stretched out on the couch. Ray, don’t say that. You were in the bathroom for over an hour. I knew that you were ethier upset or having explosive diarrhea from Nate’s vegan casserole-or both.”

“That shit was beyond nasty. I bet he got all the ingredients at Trader joes and sold his soul just to buy it.” Ray quickly quipped.

“Jesus, don’t make me vomit.” You huffed as you looked at the bathtub, “Now are you gonna come out now without beating up someone?”

“Yes babycakes, as long as you do one thing.”

Cringing, you force a smile. It’s not because you don’t love him, but sometimes what comes out of his mouth can be questionable. “Yes Ray?”

He grabs your hand, which fits right into his. “Gotta show the homies who’s the alpha around here.”

You don’t mind holding Ray’s hand. You like the tight squeezes and the feel of his soft skin. As the two of you walk out of the bathroom back into the life of the party with the smell of barbeque and the august heat in the air.

“Oh god Ray, shut up.”

Ray simply responds with a goosey laugh.