#the au that i didn't know i needed until now

[shaisuki]

𝗟𝗢𝗢𝗦𝗘 𝗘𝗡𝗗𝗦

ft. bully! gojo satoru and geto suguru

content warnings college au, heavy bullying, gaslighting, noncon, dubcon, implied sexual assault, allusions to depression/suicide, alcohol consumption, drinking, implied drugging, fatphobia, overdosing, naoya zen'in is an asshole, humiliation, threats, minor oc character. dead dove do not eat.

notes this might come as disappointing since some of you wanting revenge what this two idiots had done to reader. their are some matters that i think is too complicated and impossible so i came with this way as the breaking point where reader starts to retaliate/plan her revenge. will get to it later and to that anon, who asked for the revenge, i will get once i start to finish this one up. please read the warnings, i don't want someone bitching in the comments telling me that the contents above is uncool. it truly is not cool. that's why it have warnings. it is on a fictional context. do read the warnings before continuing. also do let me know of what you think of this chapter.

read part one, here. two here.

synopsis you let them take and take what they can from you. you were a nobody after all but everybody have their breaking point.

the world is a blur to you. colors of red and blue dances in your vision while voices whispers to you. what's happening? you can't move. it's like your body were made of lead. you can't understand what they were saying. multiple faces stares at you, are you dead? is this what you see when people surround you while they lower your casket. is it? you hope it was, cause you didn't plan on living anymore. there's nothing worth moving forward and the world around you turns black.

there's a beep and then silence. you hear before you see and when you opened your eyes, all you can see is a bright light above you. it took you minutes to adjust your vision and realize where you are. you're in a hospital. laying on a bed and you started to get irritated at your oxygen mask. you tug at it. getting frustrated why it keeps coming back at you before someone put their hand on it. completely removing it and there you breath. your sight darted to the hand who helped you until your sight travels to his arms and then to his face. a brief recognition flashes through you.

“nanami?” you call his name unsure but you know it was definitely him. it was hard to mistake him for someone. there's his blonde hair, neatly parted. his pristine beige sweater paired a dark colored trouser, not a crinkle in sight and his signature silver watch in his wrist. you met him once at the literature club and decided you were going to be there too not until it changed due to some circumstances. his lips parted but before he can speak, a cheery voice interrupted him.

“she's awake!?” said haibara, you also knew him since he and nanami were always together. seeing your confused state, his voice died down. “what happened?” you asked them and they exchanged looks before haibara answers you.

“we found you passed out in the lawn. thought you were drunk but you weren't breathing.” haibara's voice was soft while he slowly breaks down the reason why you ended up here.

a doctor comes inside to your room before haibara can finish. you took note of her pristine white coat with her surname embroidered on it. clicking her pen and whipping out her clipboard she pulled out of nowhere. you were distracted by it. the doctor's eyes is on you now and you began to frown.

the doctor coughs clearing her throat before speaking. “hello, ms. (y/n). i'm glad you're awake now.” noticing your confused expression she pauses began answering the question. “to answer your question you were unconscious for two days and is brought for possible assault. we need your con—”

“no!”

“ms. it would help for you t—”

“you heard me!? i said no!” you scream at the doctor and your tears appeared in your eyes. you didn't realize you were screaming. nanami and haibara stand there in silence but the looks on their face said otherwise. concern painted in their faces and the doctor bows before leaving. looking at the men inside in your room to call her if you need anything.

cause if they would test you, they would find the remains of their sperm inside you and then report? who will believe you? it would be buried like the case of another girls like you who were too afraid nor fight their abusers. you don't find the point of that. they would twist the words out of you. it was easy to believe than you.

you curled up in bed and did the next thing you can. cry. now, you're in here and the events before this plays in your head in repeat.

“f-fuck”

satoru curses out while suguru bites your ear. your body like jello as they spilled their load for the nth that day. both of them lowered your body after fucking your brains out. warm up, they say. you shiver as you feel their cum running down your thighs. feeling disgusted as it began to stick after being exposed to the air. you grab the wipes but suguru stopped you, grabbing it from your hands and cleaning you up. fixing your skirt in the meantime.

“worth every penny.” suguru mutters. staring at the new clothes they bought for you. a baby blue corseted puff-sleeved, square neck top matched with a black skirt that rests on your mid thigh is what they forced you to wear. it feels tight. intentionally buying it one size smaller than you usually wore and it more feel you like a stuffed sausage rather a comfortable piece of clothing. you can't say no to what they wanted. you're a bit of grateful that they allowed you to wear your white sneakers rather than those kitten heels that would put your feet in blisters.

satoru's fingers brushes through the expanse of your exposed flesh. playing with the small bow in your top. sighing, “suguru, can we have more with (y/n)-chan?” his best friend chuckles at him. “idiot, we're already running late, after that we can.” satoru pouts. “tch, party pooper.” he ignores gojo and moves his attention to you.

“smile, this is your first real party. you're going to enjoy this.” suguru lifts your chin up with his finger and you obediently nodded. “ditch and you know what will happen.” he warns.

it was a bad idea. the moment you stood in the front door. the party was already in motion. you can hear the people inside shouting profanities and booming music mixed with already drunk frat members and student bodies. this was never really your crowd and when you were shoved inside with gojo and geto you were done and you already felt like crying. you look at the duo in front of you. they were already engaged in conversation with the other people here.

“gojo, you son of a bitch. you fucking came.” a guy hollered in the side and you see more of his features as he gets nearer. a snarl in his face with multiple piercings in his ear. a hair dyed blonde with green accents.

“ah, zen’in. wouldn't missed this just i could wipe that smirk off your face.” gojo mocks him and before the guy whom gojo called zen’in darts his sight to you. he raises a brow. “you two in fat bitches now?” pointing at you with hand cupping a plastic cup. gojo scoffs. “none of your business, zen'in.” glaring at him but he can't see that gojo's looking at him with dark glasses in the way. “then you two wouldn't mind me using her.” he suggested and suguru gaze darkens at him. “fuck off, naoya.” almost growling at naoya and the latter raises his hand in mock defeat before finding shit he could entertain himself with.

suguru scowls after naoya left, he looks at you like you just turned his mood sour. “you're an embarrassment.” he says and you bit your lip. keeping the tears at bay and you don't really want to embarrass yourself more at this party. “hey, hey suguru.” gojo taps his shoulder. “let loose, don't naoya get to you.” satoru glances at you. his blue eyes peering in his glasses. “you're right.” his stare cold at you. “find a seat, (y/n). you're embarrassing us now with you around.” you nod and you find yourself in a vacant corner. near to those already wasted or just plain chilling in the couch in front of you.

what did you expect? that were all sex talk or when they're in good mood. all those praise and compliments are just enough to feel you good about yourself for a bit and then they'll come destroying it. you stare at the view through the window. the night's particularly beautiful and peaceful except the place you're in and you're already missing the comfort of your bed.

you take a sip from your cup. a girl gave it you earlier saying that it's a special concoction that's only made at this parties. unsure you took it. not wanting to show ungratefulness to someone whose only been polite to you and she seems nice. you cringe slightly at the taste and the burning of the liquid as it flows down your throat. coughing you bring down the cup, not used to drinking.

your first time being a party, your eyes wander how your peers lost their selves in the influence of alcohol. some where dancing and mingling. talking like they were friends and you caught of others taking their business upstairs. you were kind of jealous how everyone are the life of the party and you sit here in your misery. you continue to observe everyone and you caught gojo. it's impossible to miss his tall stature and his white hair standing in the crowd. a petite woman is linked to him. her thin arms are wrapped around his neck and it was clear what they were doing. there they stood in the crowd. kissing.

“satoru.” gojo was taking a swig of his drink when a girl approached him. calling his name like they were lovers but it was more like an ex-fling. never had a relationship with her. she was only a temporary fun. “ah, sar—ah, sayuri.” he almost curses at himself. sayuri playfully pouts at him and there it is, the batting of eyelashes. “that's mean, satoru. you already forgot me.” her lips puckers before placing a hand in his chest. if this was a another party of gojo and he really liked this girl. he would have taken her upstairs. he caught you in the corner. you were like a child in awe at the people in this house. gojo almost chuckles at your cute antics but suppressed it and then a cruel idea pops in his mind. “missed me?” he asks sayuri and there was no answer needed as he crashes his lips to sayuri. his sight never leaving yours and when you caught him. he watch as your eyes widens, you lower your head in embarrassment before chugging that drink in your cup in one swig. he smirks in the kiss as he watches you wiped your tears away. he always liked making you cry.

you should have ditched this stupid party, even it means getting punished by those again. you were hurt. they always like to torture you. listen as they tell you how worthless and unlovable you are while they keep girls who are clearly not you by their side. those girls were perfectly fit for them to be seen in public and you were there for them to humiliate you. with your head lowered, you stifled a sob. wiping your tears with your hands shaking. they kept flowing and you kept messily wiping them and with that you slowly made your way outside. discreetly making your way through the door and you almost laugh. you were a nobody. you're not made for pretty things and this goddamn outfit you wore only added to your misery. you never felt beautiful and it looks ugly on you. wrapped a sausage with a different and it will still look the same.

no one noticed you leaving except for suguru's watchful gaze.

suguru finds his friend making out with a girl he definitely doesn't remember. suguru slaps his back and satoru broke the kiss. wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and ignores the girl he was just making out seconds ago. suguru points the door where you left earlier. you're really looking for trouble and with that they left following you.

sayuri was stunned being shoved aside again. she was angry. how the fuck did you get those two's attention especially gojo's? she's beautiful. she's thin. academically excelling and you, a fat nobody bitch easily made those two fall for you. she knows they were just playing at you and sayuri could take it but being shoved again by satoru isn't what she expected tonight. she's going to be satoru's bride. it was decided from the start and satoru knows it. their fathers friends since their college days had made a decision to marry their son and daughter before they were even born and she did everything she can just to have satoru's attention but why can't she even get to look at her without her trying. it's your fault. it's your fucking fault! you deserve to die. you're fucking stupid for accepting that drink like you're a fucking saint and now, maybe you'll rethink your choices of making those your own and satoru will only have his eyes for her and only her.

weird. why are your hands sweating? it's cold. freezing cold. you know this temperature at night is normal but why are you freezing cold. hah, your vision's starting to get funny too. where there always stars in the sky? ahh, i want to go home. i wonder if akira's still awake. i didn't told her that i was going away tonight. my eyes hurt. you were crying. this was your thoughts as you walked away.

it was to easy to catch you with their long strides. satoru grabs your flabby arm angrily. “we told you, you don't leave without us. do you really want to get punished, (y/n)-chan?” his voice snarky as he digs his nails in your arms. it hurts. it really must really hurt but you're suddenly numb to feel anything. you just stare at him in confusion and then you hear voices. they were calling them to get back.

gojo scowls at them. your knees buckled and you sat in the ground. geto tsked. “we're going back to you later.” he says and they left you there and there were loud cheers. you lay there in the ground. numb and your vision fades away.

you blinked as you stare in the nothingness. that's what you last remembered. they left you there and you hoped you died. you can't take another bullshit of what they put you through. the tears continuously flows from your eyes and your blanket is wet with tears. haibara puts a comforting hand in your shoulder and you bursted crying again. this was the real kindness you felt since the accident. they didn't blame you. they only stayed and made sure you were resting enough. stranger they maybe or an acquaintance. you would never forget this kindness from them.

days. nights. you stayed in the hospital until you were cleared. you made nothing of what happened to you. putting it in the records as an allergic reaction in which the hospital agreed. just like that even when you're in the brink of death of what happened to you. if you took the procedure for assault. they would be guilty but it was days old now and bruises are left in your skin as nothing but reminders of the humiliation of what they did to you.

for now, you're going to cry. cry until there's nothing left to cry for.

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

never not mine | jjk | "i hear..."

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

Bygones will be bygone eras, fading into grey. Breaking up with Jeon Jungkook had been a vicious, clean break. He tried to take it back, but the damage was already done. You walked out of the world you didn't belong in, at least until Kim Taehyung calls your name.

this is part i | part ii | part iii

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; mentions of controlling behaviors in a romantic relationship; reader is emotionally distant after said breakup; second chance romance?; angst and fluff and feels; your POV

non-idol!AU; fashion model!Jungkook — ft fellow model/actor!Kim Taehyung and model/businessman!Kim Seokjin; and a certain Maestro cameo; reader is not part of the entertainment industry

--

“Please love me again.”

You could hear him saying it but you pretended not to hear. You pretended not to know. You pretended he wasn’t there. He was persona non grata. No, he was simply another blurry face amongst many that faded into the grey background of grey days. He was only a ghost. If he happened to be in the same place as you were, it wasn’t any of your damn business. People were allowed to be wherever they wanted to be.

“I’m sorry.”

Yes, he was.

Sorry that he couldn’t walk all over you like he wanted. Sorry that he couldn’t control you on that leash like he wanted. Sorry that you had the balls to cut all ties and not put up with his selfish bullshit anymore. Sorry. What a word. Your response had not been a vindictive one, though. You hadn’t blocked him on social media. You figured he would block you himself. The last moments were him berating you for being late, what if something happened to you, I was worried, and you snapping. It had taken every fiber of your being to not fling your clutch in his face and tell him to take himself out if he cared so much.

“I understand what you meant now.”

The first couple times he attempted to speak to you after it all, you were ice-cold furious. So angry that you simply refused to speak to avoid spitting literal fire. So, you didn’t. And then it became a habit. Then you stopped caring. You stopped feeling. You lived your life.

Alone.

Like an abandoned puppy, Jeon Jungkook followed you every chance he got, but there were less and less chances as time went on. You would walk past him. He would follow until it was definitely too creepy and simply stop, staring after you with a lost look in his empty eyes. Everyone could see the broken heart in his stare.

A lot of people asked you what happened.

It was a valid question.

It was just as valid for you to not answer.

“I’m not going to talk about that. We can talk about something else.”

You avoided people who couldn’t let it go or cut them out altogether. What was the point of shit-talking, taking sides, making yourself angry over things that couldn’t be changed? What was the point of being upset over nights that couldn’t be taken back? Over phone calls and you sitting alone in a restaurant, empty chair in front of you and the reason in your hand, an opportunity came up, I’m leaving for Los Angeles in the morning, I need to pack, bye. Over trips suddenly cut short in the middle, the agency called, another model got sick last minute so I gotta go, just stay here and have fun. By yourself. Over accusations, what are you doing right now, send a photo, now. Over doubts, are you really at the supermarket, I don’t know, you could be doing anything, I’m not there after all. Over being five minutes late because the taxi you had taken was driven by an older gentleman chatting away, and you didn’t have the heart to tell him to shut up simply because of a boy.

Five minutes.

“Where were you? You need to tell me if you’re late. What if something happened? I was worried.”

“The driver was talking to me.”

“And you couldn’t text that you were okay?”

“I didn’t think it was that big of a deal.”

“Am I not your priority?” he had hissed.

Snap.

All those times, all those moments, okay, I understand, it’s fine, you can make it up to me later, they all came back to you in vivid recollections, and you had stared at Jeon Jungkook. All those people saying how lucky you must be having such a good-looking guy, an actual fashion model, must be so nice, and you only said nice things about him because it didn’t occur to you to complain, no, it would be silly to complain about someone you loved. That was part of loving someone, wasn’t it, being in love was putting up with these things and believing in their words. All those instances, prove what you’re doing, send a photo. Now. All that shit got you to this moment right here, right now, under this furious scrutiny, his dark brows furrowed, his pretty mouth twisted in a frown, his question ringing in your ears.

His accusation in which he had already deemed you guilty.

“The fuck you say to me?” you had growled softly.

Never once did you ask him what he was doing in the destination that he was at. Never once did you fault him for going out and having fun. Never once did you say anything about the multiple social posts of beaches and hotels and nightclubs and everyone scantily-clad, his arms around fellow models, pressed up against fabulous guys and glamorous girls. If he didn’t answer you for a couple days, you assumed it was due to long shoot days and combined jetlag making him crash. The very answer he gave you the first time you asked. You believed him then. There was no need to ask for confirmation over and over if you trusted him. And you did trust him.

Now, this.

“I was five minutes late. If I thought I would be later, I would have texted you,” you explained with emotionless calm. “At least I showed up. At least I didn’t make you sit down in the restaurant, wait around for an hour only to get a text that you aren’t coming. Not even a phone call anymore.”

You hadn’t raised your voice.

He had looked taken aback.

“But… I thought you would understand.”

“Of course, I understand.” The seething anger was white-hot but your tone was crystal-clear cold. “I can understand, as long as you show me some grace and appreciation for not losing my shit every time it happens. Am I not your priority? When have I ever been yours?”

He tried to answer quickly. “You’re always–”

But you were already pulling up the rideshare app, calling another car to come pick you up. “Am I? Then why accuse me the second I get out of the car? Where was I? In the taxi. You saw me get out of it. Why are you holding five minutes over my head like a death sentence, as if I surely betrayed you in those extra five minutes? If it’s you it could be five, thirty, hours, but I have to understand you are networking. I have to understand you are being personable. I have to understand that you are practicing being friendly because it doesn’t come naturally to you.”

Jungkook simply gawked at you, wide-eyed.

You narrowed your eyes, creating a distance he could no longer cross.

“Am I just here so you have someone to visit when you’re bored? Someone to fuck?”

Maybe the vulgarity was taking it too far. Maybe saying all of this in public right now was in poor taste. His jarring question rang in your head. Am I not your priority? Maybe you were wrong to say it all now, but it was the way he said it, as if your love for him had become invalid once you were five minutes late to the appointed time for this date that you didn’t know whether or not he would abandon you in the middle of or take you home and rock your world – and you realized you didn’t care what the outcome was.

You just didn’t give a fuck anymore.

There were so many things he could have done. He could break up with you if his career was more important. He could say sorry more. He could find ways to make it up to you. He could, but he didn’t, and you understood. But this. This you could not understand. This he could not do.

No.

This you would not let him do.

If this was innocent concern, he made it worse by coming off as suffocating and hovering. Now, you realized that no excuse would have been good enough to convince him otherwise. He had already made up his mind to attack you the second you walked out of that car, delivering in the fatal blow instantly. All those moments. All those times had become hair-thin cracks, marring the bond between you and him, tiny little slices to kill the relationship and your will to be in it.

“I don’t think…”

He trailed off, not completing his thought.

The car pulled up.

This was surely the meaning of quiet treason.

“No, you don’t,” you had finished for him with icy agreement. “You expect. You expect me to be here and hold your hand when you want it, and now I know you will never ask me if I ever need my hand held.”

You had stepped away from the curb, not once raising your voice, no longer looking at him, your knuckles digging into your beaded black clutch. You expected it to hurt at least a little.

It was nothing compared to this death by a thousand cuts.

“W-Wait!”

You didn’t.

You had opened the car door and closed it quickly. The driver  requested you to confirm your name. You tersely nodded. They didn’t ask any further questions even as you witnessed Jungkook’s shocked face in the side mirror as the vehicle drove away. You didn’t look back. You didn’t even cry. Maybe you should have given him a chance to say something. A chance to change.

Except you had.

This wasn’t the first time that you had this conversation, although the first time was you sitting him down and saying, hey, if you’re not sure about your schedule, let’s not arrange any dates around those days. We can go out when things settle down. The answer was agreement and all was well for a couple weeks. And then it would happen again. And then you would bring it up again. Whoops. And again.Then he would ask you what you were doing when he wasn’t there. Oh, really? Send pictures.You asking, this is a bit much, isn’t it? The answer being, I want to know you’re safe. You finally admitting that it drove you a bit crazy. Him laughing and saying he was a bit of a handful, brushing away your concerns in light of his own.

Five minutes.

Am I not your priority?

The anger had nowhere to go.

Like how summer turned into fall and then into winter, the anger grew cold and dense and concentrated. A stone. Then one day you turned it over and found nothing underneath. You stopped caring. On one hand, you could have been the bigger person and reached out. On another hand, you didn’t see the reason in wasting any more time. What good was closure? What good would it do, talking it out and getting the same result? Deserve this, deserve that. Fair or not, at the end of the day, it didn’t work and there was no forcing something if neither party wanted to really try. I understand, until you couldn’t anymore.

Now.

Now, you would sit alone at restaurants and not be disappointed.

Table for one, yes, thank you.

Now you would spend hours at the games store and no one would be asking you to take pictures and prove that you were there. He used to play video games too, but he gradually fell out of them. Busy. Felt like he couldn’t keep up. Sold his PC because he was never home.

Emptiness where he had once enjoyed spending that time with you.

You would stay at the music store for a long time, looking over albums and wondering if you should buy them. It had been such a long time. You never listened to CDs anymore although you had been obsessed with music as a kid. The past felt like a different time. Memories of a clunky CD player and wired headphones with the metal arch over your head and those spongey earcups. Now you had wireless earbuds and a phone. Still, you looked over the colorful albums and wondered if you should get one, just to have it or maybe even put it on display. He used to listen to a lot of music too. Probably still did, on planes and in cars. He used to share your taste.

Now you didn’t have to share anything.

You stuck with your favorites, still, for years. It was an ever-growing list of popular artists as well as lesser-known indie artists that you never forgot. You made sure to listen to the top hits as well since those songs were popular for a reason. The occasional earworm could lead you down a pleasant rabbit hole, too.

You picked up an album of a band you liked but had never owned and went home.

Got that dopamine unboxing it and smiling at the photocards. Looked through the extras with the album on repeat playing through your Bluetooth speaker. You didn’t do these kinds of things in front of Jungkook usually. You had always prioritized engaging with him. Listening to his stories, looking at the photos of places he had been, shaking your head at the long hours or difficult call times. Every moment precious because you would never know when it would be cut short.

You had made everything about him when in his presence.

You hadn’t blasted the relationship all over social media although it was obvious. For the most part, people had been respectful. You hadn’t deleted all the photos he was in, the photos he had taken of you, nor had you blocked him. People asked. You repeated the same thing over and over. I’m not going to talk about that. We can talk about something else. People eventually stopped asking. Old news was old news. There was no visible resentment, and so the interest died out.

You caught Jungkook looking at you from across the concessions stand at the movie theater.

Those big dark brown eyes filled with rueful invitation.

You didn’t know what movie he was going into, but you turned away and didn’t think about it much.

Watched the movie you paid for, alone.

Went home.

Alone.

You used to watch movies twice. Once by yourself when it released, then a second time when Jungkook could make it. When he could. Sometimes he couldn’t and the movie was already out of theaters. Then you both would watch it at home when it released on streaming services. It was what it was. You enjoyed movies. You had the time and money to watch them twice. But now you didn’t have to.

That was nice.

You weren’t sure if Jungkook was deliberately going places that you often frequented or if it was coincidence. It was likely the latter, because he usually wasn’t alone. He had a group of friends that lived in this area and often came to visit them. He used to joke that it must have been fate for you to meet as your friend circles didn’t overlap. At least he had not shown up to the video games store or the music store you usually went to, so you didn’t feel threatened in any way. Maybe he was visiting his friends more because he was sad. Maybe he was visiting them more in hopes of seeing you, the same tactic he used when he first asked you out. Maybe it was both.

It was probably both.

Sometimes you would cry in frustration.

Sometimes you would play games to distract yourself.

Sometimes you didn’t mind too much as the days passed. Sometimes you would look outside and admire the sun. Sometimes it would rain and that was nice too. Sometimes you were sad but it wasn’t a negative feeling. Such was the natural course. Sadness was the promise of happiness to come, because one couldn’t exist without the other.

At least, you believed so.

Ther wasn’t much more you could do than that.

For a bit there you had almost thought the relationship hadn’t mattered because you had walked away so coldly. In some ways, you wished you could take it back. In other ways, you didn’t. It was hard to discount years of your life simply because of how the chapter ended. There had definitely been unique experiences that you were unlikely to relive. You used to attend lavish parties with Jungkook, especially many around the holidays. You would dress up in your best and put on a brave face. A lovely dress, the high heels he brought you, carefully done makeup and hair. Jungkook would walk in with you gliding beside him, silently holding his arm. People would tell you how fun it was working with him and how lucky he was to have such a pretty and understanding lady. These were all work events full of unfamiliar faces. Jungkook used to be reserved and hang out with you in corners but, as he got more popular, more people roped him into conversations, remember this, and he would slip in with his friends, naturally, laughing and smiling. You would wait nearby, at yet another party surrounded by better bodies, and somehow he would find you at the end of the night, ask you if you had fun.

And you would smile and assure him.

“Something like that.”

The best parties were the ones thrown by his friend Kim Taehyung. He had been in the entertainment industry for a long time, becoming Jungkook’s friend though their crossed paths in modeling. He had an affliction for celebration and Jungkook was always invited, which meant you, too, bore witness to many magnificent events hosted by him. The most extravagant were his own birthday parties. Quite so, as the date was after Christmas, and he continued the festive mood. Taehyung loved a theme. He would rent specific venues, arrange for live music, impose a dress code, everything. One year, he flew everyone out to Paris and rented an entire restaurant to celebrate. Even if you barely knew anyone there, it was fun being in a different world created by Taehyung’s magical vision. Everyone was thrown into it together, experiencing the vibes of an old American jazz club, the white beaches with glass waters during Christmastime, or a playful night filled with Taehyung’s favorite childhood games and sweet treats, complete with food stalls from the area of Daegu he grew up in.

You didn’t fit in, but no one did because these were all Taehyung’s fantasies brought to life.

He always sent the invitations by physical mail, on stunning stationery to match the theme. Someone else must have created them, but seemingly Taehyung approved them all as every single one contained his unique flourishing signature. You kept them in a box. They were too pretty to throw away.

You had received an invitation this year too, to a midnight masquerade ball, but you didn’t go.

Perhaps he didn’t know yet. Or, perhaps he did know and Jungkook asked him to invite you. They were quite close. If there was a plan, you didn’t take the bait. The date came and went. Maybe Taehyung considered you a friend, but that was probably a stretch. Jungkook didn’t like you talking to Taehyung too much.

Apparently, you made him smile too big.

Or something.

Taehyung had an entire party to get to every time you met him, anyway. You would have to shoo him off because there was very little night and Taehyung wanted to speak to every guest one-on-one. He was sincere like that. He was romantic like that. He was dark and handsome and in his own head, in his constant dream of living his wonderful life that, from what you could discern, he deserved. He even always remembered to ask the staff working at his party to eat cake with them. At the end of the night, Taehyung would pick up the microphone and thank the guests for coming and thank the staff for working hard to provide everyone with a good time. Taehyung always remembered to say thank you and he always made sure to express his gratitude to everyone, no matter their status.

You missed being at his party, a little bit, if only just to witness a fairy-tale in real life.

But you weren’t part of Jeon Jungkook’s world anymore.

And so you missed the party.

Please love me again.

On quiet, grey days, you realized how very boring your life was. On quiet, grey days, you were tempted to think about the good times. About his laugh, about his starry eyes when you came into view, about enchanted nights where you would both make magic between bodies. On quiet, grey days, you were tempted to pick out all his flaws until the memories were burned, images stricken with ash, never to be the same again. On quiet, grey days, you had every chance to run back or run away, at least in your head, but instead you lived your very boring life doing neither of those choices.

Whether you loved him or hated him, the result would still be the same.

You entered the artisan tea shop and greeted the staff. You talked about how your father was into tea, chatted about what would make a good gift. The prices of the sets. The amount of loose-leaf tea and how many cups it would make. The various flavors and strength. You smelled a bunch of different ones. Rejected some, remained indecisive about others, accepted a few as contenders.

You heard the bell by the door chime again, musical and clear.

A male’s voice, deep and polite.

You tensed. Your body knew before your mind caught up. You pointed to several flavors you had liked, and the employee suggested a gift box sampler featuring a watercolor camellia-printed limited-edition teacup set that you agreed to readily, all the while vaguely aware of a tingling behind your neck and a vigilant tension forming in your lungs. But it wasn’t until your name was called that you turned around by instinct, and then froze with recognition. Dark brown eyes under graceful black-brown waves. Tan skin glimmering under the lights. The image completed by a three-piece chocolate brown suit paired with a ruffled warm gray dress shirt and sharp dark leather oxfords. The stylish man smiled widely, box-like, and walked towards you without hesitation.

“Fancy seeing you here.”

Kim Taehyung must have known, and yet.

You bowed lightly. “Hello.”

The sales associate was immediately charmed by Taehyung’s deep voice and dashing appearance, their gloved hands hovering over the half-packed box and openly ogling the demandingly handsome gentleman that took your hand warmly before lightly kissing your knuckles. Straight out of a movie. Probably learned it from one, or from traveling in Europe. He let go after a lingering moment.

He had said your name with the same velvety warmth he had at all of his parties.

It had hurt, but it wasn’t his fault.

“How are you? I haven’t seen you in a while. Are you buying something?” He raised his head and daintily smiled at the employee before giving you his full attention again. “Let me pay for it.”

“No, ah,” you interrupted him quickly, handing over your card before Taehyung could reach into his heavily lined pockets. “No, sorry. I’m buying a gift for my father.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” he apologized immediately, retracting his hands. “I meant to do something nice for you and I’ve overstepped.”

“It’s… It’s alright,” you chuckled softly, trying to dissipate the awkwardness. You turned slightly to sign the receipt, not looking at the price. Your card went back into your black leather bow purse. “You had no way of knowing. How are you? And your parents?”

Taehyung was still a little sheepish but he remained next to you at a respectful distance. “Me? I guess you could say I’m holding on. I think I might take a small break soon and spend a week with my family. How did you know I was thinking of them?” He laughed, shaking his head. “You’re a mind-reader.”

You shook your head with a smile, taking the beautifully wrapped bag and bowing in gratitude to the employee. “No, you’ve just never been a big tea drinker. It was only a guess.”

He scratched the back of his head and sighed lightheartedly. “Ah, you’re right. I wanted to buy a grown-up gift, but maybe I should have asked what they wanted. I don’t know the first thing about tea.”

You both began to walk towards the entrance.

“You’re their adorable child. They will love anything you gift them.”

Taehyung grinned. “So, you think I’m adorable?”

You opened your mouth and then.

Then you were suddenly hyperaware of the brightness of the lights in the tea store. Suddenly aware of all the customers around you milling about and chatting with their friends and the employees. Suddenly the scents of the store were too strong and too varied and suddenly a phantom grip on your arm from a time long past pulled you away from your center, into the past, and you remembered all the times you stood in a corner of a party, on the outskirts of alcohol, music, and magic, wondering why you were so, so alone.

You plastered a smile on your face and replied pleasantly.

“Of course, you are, Kim Taehyung.”

It lasted a second.

Maybe less.

Taehyung gazed at you with curious eyes.

You kept the smile on your face.

He stepped past you and opened the door, gesturing you to walk out before him in the most gentlemanly way, smiling with his eyes crinkling as they usually did when he laughed or was in his comfort zone. “Come. Let me at least treat you to lunch,” he insisted.

You accepted his graciousness and turned as you walked to face him as you spoke. “That’s really not necessary. I’m sure you’re very busy.”

He chuckled, the sound coming deep from his chest. “Of course, I’m busy, but I always have time for a friend.” He shrugged nonchalantly, grinning. “My manager expects this kind of behavior from me anyway.”

You paused, looking up at him. “Friend?”

Flutters of lashes and confusion in dark brown orbs.

“Are we not friends?”

People around you continued walking, giving you and Taehyung weird looks. He didn’t seem to notice, undeterred by the world around him that wasn’t currently in his focus, the main character at every moment in his life, oblivious to anyone trying to get under his skin with their judgements, never the accessory to someone else.

It turned out to be more difficult than you thought, saying the words.

“I… well… Don’t you know that Jeon Jungkook and I aren’t dating anymore?”

Taehyung tilted his head with childlike innocence.

“Um… so you don’t eat lunch anymore?”

You blinked at him.

“Huh?”

He gave you this look. You stared back. For a moment the disconnect was so tangible that you almost had a word for it. A zephyr ruffled Taehyung’s soft curls. The sun made his skin glow and his dark eyes sparkle. Small signs of Mother Nature affectionately acknowledging one of her children. He smiled. It was then that you realized this was a decision you could make. A decision of a lonely self, not a lonely self that was an extension of another. A yes or no that didn’t have to be polluted by the past.

“Well…”

Your hands tightened on the straps of the gift bag.

“If you’ll have me.”

Taehyung grinned. “I know just the spot! You’ll love it.”

-

It was nice lunch.

No, it was wonderful time.

You had been worried that you would be underdressed in your calf-length flowy black dress and chunky knit lavender cardigan, but you fit right in. Taehyung had picked a busy rooftop brunch spot. It was French-themed, or at least as French as Korea could get. There was a bit more wood than brass and crystals. It still made for a nice hideaway. It seemed Taehyung was well recognized here, and yet people maintained a distance regardless. It must have been his polite yet stern demeanor. When he sat down though, he seemed to relax, waving a hand and telling you to order whatever you liked.

You never could turn down good brioche.

You thought it would have been awkward, at least. It wasn’t. He talked about his work, asked about yours. Asked what you thought about this or that. Memories from past events, what you liked or didn’t like. What he paid too much for that nobody noticed, along with a hearty laugh, and moments he loved, such as having a group photo at every one of his events. You asked him if he enjoyed planning the events themselves. He confessed with a roughish smile that he had a planner for all those details. You thought it strange to spend so much money on such occasions, but there was something pure about it too. Besides, you ended up getting your answer.

“What’s the most important lesson in your life you’ve learned so far?” Taehyung abruptly asked, sitting up in alarm.

You blinked at his suddenness. “Uh… I don’t know. I would have to think about it.” Your lips upturned slightly, then you tilted your head and looked back at him. “What about you? What’s the most important lesson you’ve learned in your life so far?”

He relaxed back in his chair. His expression became pensive. You paused in mid-bite, seeing him look a bit sheepish.

“You’re not the first person to ask me about the parties,” Taehyung chuckled deep from his chest. “A lot of people tell me it’s a waste of money. And it is to other people, but it isn’t to me. The most important lesson I’ve ever learned was…”

He raised his head with a small smile.

“You can’t get time back.”

You remembered the extensive decor, the delicate hors d'oeuvres, even the various perfumes sprayed into the air complimenting the theme of each party. Exquisite and memorable details. Taehyung ticked his head, seemingly recalling it all too.

“I think I’ve mentioned this, but my grandmother was the closest maternal figure I had,” he explained, fondly smiling. “I’m close to my parents too, but they had to work a lot to give me a good life, so I spent a lot of time with my siblings and grandparents. My grandmother used to hold celebrations for the achievements I had, even if they were mediocre or not that impressive. Nothing extravagant, or anything. A little cake or my favorite sweets. She would sing for me and clap her hands. She would say, it’s my duty to give you good memories. As I got older, I became busy, of course, chasing dreams, and I didn’t make time for her small celebrations any more. I was just out of university when she passed away. I often think I hadn’t spent enough time with her. Time is money, as they say. Next time, I would say, until there wasn’t a next time.”

The weight of his words settled on the table.

“It’s not your fault,” you reminded him, but Taehyung simply smiled and shook his head.

“It wasn’t anybody’s fault,” he agreed. “But that wasn’t it. I couldn’t get all that time back. Sure, did I take jobs that put me in a really good place now? Yeah. Yeah, of course, I make a lot of money now since young me jumped at every chance to model for a small brand or do a single-run commercial. I really love my career. I love that, because I did the hard work, I even get offers to act in primetime dramas now. But I should have made less. I should have made time. I should have gone to see her and let her do her duty to give me good memories.”

He waved his hands in a slight shrug. You could tell he was still regretful about it, but there was something else too. He looked directly at you with that boxy grin of his.

“I decided, then, that I too  wanted to give good memories to the people that are precious to me. I have all this money, anyway. Why waste it on things? I want to waste it on memories. I want people to look forward to special days, to celebrate life, to look back on a fun time.”

So that was why.

“That is what is really important to me.”

Kim Taehyung wasn’t only good looks, of course.

“I’ve yapped long enough. What is really important to you?” he asked again, chuckling.

“Oh, I…”

And there were no words.

You straightened, startled by your own silence. There were lots of important things, weren’t there? There was… and there wasn’t. Friends, sure. And, also, friends came in and out of your life. You didn’t take it personally. Family, yes. Cordial but not deep. They had their own lives to live. You almost opened your mouth to say these generic things, and then you caught the look in Taehyung’s eye and stopped.

This basic question was not so basic after all.

“I… Am I boring?” you blurted with a start.

“Boring?” Taehyung frowned. “No, you’re not.”

Your brows furrowed. “Aren’t I?”

He laughed, hearty and deep. “Trust me. You’re not boring. We wouldn’t be having a conversation if you were boring.”

Your eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Why are we having a conversation?”

Taehyung smiled warmly.

“Because I appreciate your outlook on life.”

You were taken aback.

“What?”

He nodded. “Isn’t it obvious?” He waved a hand carelessly. “I’ve met so many people doing what I do. Some people are just nice to you because of money. Or think you can boost their reputation. Or they think they can take advantage of you. You’ve been around all that too, no?” He did not mention Jungkook.

“Oh, well…” you hesitated. “Not anymore. I’m pretty ordinary.”

A small frown. “No, everyone is extraordinary.”

You scoffed. “I’m only an accountant. Not even one that works closely with my own clients – I’m just the one at the firm that does the final review over everyone’s work to make sure we don’t get into legal trouble. That’s nothing like what you do.”

He impatiently swept your words away. “Everyone is extraordinary,” he repeated.

“I don’t think–”

“You are different,” Taehyung pressed. “You had been introduced to a different world than your own and you could have been a vulture. You could have taken for your own sake. You could have done everything you could to be ‘one of us’. You could have scorned us too, called it all superficial and stupid. But you didn’t.” He crossed his arms to make his point. “You observed. You listened. You treated me, the people around me, everyone as their own person. We weren’t just some dumb rich people to you. We were individuals.”

You didn’t know what to say. It wasn’t something you had ever consciously thought about before.

“There are so many people that believe in using others, either in a beneficial way or in a cruel way,” sighed Taehyung. “It’s a difficult world. We all need to live.” He reached over and made you jump by placing his hand over the back of yours. “Don’t give up on that, okay?”

Your stared at him with wide eyes. “On… what?”

Almost. You didn’t quite have an answer for the most important lesson in your life you had learned so far. But almost. Kim Taehyung cocooned his palm over your hand and trapped you with his determined brown eyes, straight from a drama scene. A heavenly prince in a fancy café. He looked back to you very seriously, taking all of your attention away from the whispering conversations on other tables, away from the clinking plates and glasses, away from all distractions.

“Don’t give up on the way you want to live.”

Those small moments.

From eating dinner alone to watching movies alone to buying that album and unboxing it yourself to looking outside, days and nights, wondering what could have been and killing that thought over and over again.

“The way… I want to live?” you echoed breathlessly.

The clear, musical chime of the bell by the entrance sang through the air, mingling with the conversation and consumption. A halo of sound that rang true over every table to reach every customer. It was as striking as it was lovely, flawlessly melding into the moment. A pure sound that could trigger a pleasant déjà vu, the recall of a good chat over good food.

Taehyung grinned with his beautiful, perfectly white teeth.

“I want you to have good memories. Whatever you decide, let us make good memories with those precious to us.”

You decided, then and there, that you needed to start doing things.

-

“Oh, good, you’re home. That would have been awfully embarrassing.”

“W-What…?”

You backed up in your slippers as a stunningly well-dressed man flourished into your home like an astronaut landing on the moon. That was, if the moon was your front door. The black mat was space-themed, printed with abstract stars and a grayish circle. It wasn’t entirely inaccurate. Your pajamas were also soft black cotton with a twinkly star print, although your slippers were simple, white furry poofs that felt like walking on clouds.

“Take this.”

“What is – oof!”

In contrast to your outfit, the man who had entered your home looked like he had stepped off the runway. He wore light blue trousers that you almost mistook for jeans, however they had a tone-on-tone print that clearly indicated the luxury designer. Underneath the navy-blue duster coat was a crisp white shirt pressed to the gods with distinctive sky-blue trim. A quick glimpse and anyone would know the inner lining of the duster was blue silk, the matching tone-on-tone print subtle and obvious at the same time. You nearly buckled under the weight of a wooden box, gasping as you saw the slices of high-grade beef in a gold bow. The man gestured with his hand in a swooping manner.

“I heard all about it from Taehyung,” he was saying, shrugging his broad shoulders heavily.

“Heard…?” You were still reeling from the unexpected guest and a box of meat. “What’s this, I can’t accept th–”

The man shot you a scathing look. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he chided, dismissive. “How unbelievably rude I would be dropping by your home if I didn’t have a gift? Psh, why, I wouldn’t be Kim Seokjin!”

And so he was.

Although, as far as you knew, you and famous-actor-turned-businessman Kim Seokjin were not close friends. Not close enough to be gifted with a house call and meat, anyway. He had been close to Jeon Jungkook back then. They often sought each other out when they both attended the same events. You were well aquatinted with Seokjin’s boisterous personality and his worldwide-known handsomeness. He was no different today, looking sculpted from jawline to broad shoulders to the regal way he stood. Glowing skin. Lightly permed, chestnut brown hair. Full lips, currently in a slight frown.

You bowed awkwardly. “S-Sorry, I just didn’t expect…”

“Ah, it’s alright.” He called you by name, although somewhat awkwardly, as if he was unsure if he should be more formal or not. “I won’t take too much of your time.”

You were still confused about Seokjin saying he had heard something from Taehyung. Actually, you didn’t even know how he got your address, although it wasn’t impossible. After all, Taehyung’s party invitations came in snail mail. It wasn’t that shocking. You probably might have been more annoyed if you were in the middle of something, but all you had been doing was getting ready to heat up some leftover takeout. You shuffled slightly, trying to block the view of the kitchen counter. Not necessarily embarrassed, per se, as your apartment was quite spacious and neat, but nothing here was comparable to Kim Seokjin’s lifestyle. It was kind of pointless to do so, though, since Seokjin was quite tall.

He seemed not to notice or care about the current state of your kitchen.

You stood there, dazed, clutching a box of high-grade beef.

He cleared his throat very firmly. “I came to invite you to the opening of my new establishment. Two weeks from now.” He rattled off the opening date. “But don’t come on opening day. It’ll be too crowded. Some day after. Let me know when and I’ll make special arrangements for you,” he added, stepping forward to tuck his business card into one of the folds of the gold bow. “Call the number on there. My assistant will connect me to you. I can link you with talented professionals if you are interested, which I’ll pay for, of course.”

“I– What – I’m sorry?” you sputtered. “Me?”

The handsome man exaggeratedly whipped his head from side to side. “Uh, do I see anyone else? Yes, of course, you,” he affirmed gruffly. “I came to invite you in person.”

“Well…” This must be how deer felt when confronted with headlights. “I’m not trying to be rude, but, uh… why?”

Seokjin looked offended. “Why? So you can meet people, silly.”

You struggled to connect the information given to you but he was not making it easy. “Meet people?”

“Yes,” he tutted. “You want to meet people, don’t you?”

Did you? You gave him a confused look.

“As Taehyung said,” Seokjin continued as if you completely understood. “People like you need to be surrounded by good people. And I happen to know a lot of them. We need people like you in this industry.”

You shook your head. “No, I don’t have any intention of–”

“Precisely.” He barreled on as if your front entryway was his own stage. “That is precisely why.”

Silence.

A bird cawed outside.

“H… Hah?”

Something in his expression softened. You almost forgot the weight of the wood box in your hands. You almost forgot the ridiculousness of you in your pajamas and Kim Seokjin in his luxury designer clothes. You almost forgot that you were in a completely different class, completely out of your element, completely ordinary.

He sighed and slipped his hands into his pants pockets, neatly tucking back his coat. “Look, I understand if you absolutely don’t want to have anything to do with me and the others. I don’t blame you. But,” he added, nodding lightly. “Your presence is missed. I do believe your interactions with those around you have done them a world of good. Maybe not everyone, yes, but you’re still spoken of, even now.”

“What…?” You blinked, doubtful. “Really?”

Seokjin chuckled, nodding. “You are good company.”

You thought all those times. All those events, dinners, parties. You mostly remembered Jungkook letting you be. Sure, you had light conversation with those around you. You couldn’t remember all their faces. They had been simple conversations, you thought, but they weren’t superficial once you really thought about it. You didn’t have basic industry chatter to talk about, so instead you had asked about aspirations. Asked why instead of what. Why acting? Why modeling? Why entertainment? Talks of the past, the present, the future. Pretty normal, you thought, but maybe…

Maybe it was more normal to ask what they were achieving.

Maybe it wasn’t so normal to ask who someone was.

“Anyway,” Seokjin coughed, breaking you out of your daze. “I wanted to give you ample time to think about it.”

“More than two weeks?” you mused.

He waved a hand. “Don’t know about you, but I need time to schedule and plan things. I need time to get myself ready to interact,” he muttered, half-joking and half-bitterly.

The meat was getting heavy. “Ah… What’s the dress code?”

“Aish, didn’t I tell you?” Seokjin tapped the side of his head. “Think about it. Then give me a call, and I’ll arrange for hair and makeup and fashion. No, don’t even bother asking about price. I’m inviting you to introduce you to people, so I am paying. End of discussion. And…”

A loaded pause.

Tick of the head and Seokjin very seriously asked you.

“If Jeon Jungkook is there, will you be fine?”

You answered honestly.

“I don’t think it will be an issue.”

He surveyed you for a long second and then nodded.

“Alright. Let me know when you’ve decided. Have a nice night. Don’t hesitate to contact me if I can help in some way. I’m not a stranger. By the way.” He added one last comment before leaving, spinning back around with a hand on your now open door and the other pointing to the side of the box. “The butcher shop I purchased this from is owned by a friend of mine. Make sure to send your family and friends his way once you taste how delicious and high-quality it is.”

-

You walked into the nightclub, oddly at peace among the blaring music and bustling bodies, stepping into a world of light and dark and pushing boundaries.

The past couple hours had been spent in a chair, fussed over by a detailed makeup artist and equally talented hairdresser. It had been more enjoyable than you originally thought. Perhaps it had been Seokjin’s excellent choices or their own expertise. They even both asked for your input and offered their advice. It felt like a joint effort. Even the fashion stylist who came later was as informative as they were considerate. You had found out that they had taken your name and your photos to have your fortune read and performed color analysis, respectively. That explained why Seokjin had asked you to take those plain photos. This had made color and style selection much simpler, as you naturally liked all the choices. You were no stranger to tight outfits, although this type of nightlife was not the kind of place you frequented. The stylist had brought a rack of choices, and just in case, a black slip dress looks good on everyone, and all of them were compelling in one way or another. All nightclub appropriate. You asked what to try first. The stylist had asked you how you were feeling.

Feeling?

The answer came out before you could stop it.

“Like revenge.”

You had laughed it off, and so had the staff, but you had seen the gleam in their eyes as if they, too, relished in being part of this so-called revenge.

Well, they were.

You weren’t perfectly sure if this was actual revenge yet, no. You were certainly dressed for it. Black lace corset. Tight lilac short skirt. Black patent leather jacket cropped so severely that it was nearly a bolero. Delicate black pumps with a thin ankle strap. The kind that was a bit fiddly to get on, but was worth it in the end. There was a power in this type of outfit, the kind that made you hold your head high and walk alone with confidence. Perhaps similar to a superhero costume. Just as impractical, too, heh. But that was okay. You weren’t here to prevent any crimes.

Just commit them.

Maybe.

In any case, you weren’t even sure what was going to happen tonight. Something had been planned for you, so you walked in and looked around, wondering if you should ask for help. The luxury was obvious from every corner of the building. From the furniture choices to the expansive bar to the crisp, pressed uniforms of the employees, every detail oozed sophistication. You admired the tastefulness of it, surprised that it didn’t feel gaudy or overdone. Must be the refined touch of Kim Seokjin. Even the clientele was jaw-dropping. You spared a moment to look from face to face, wondering if you should be less obvious about it, but then some paused and gazed back, unafraid, offering a simple smile.

They didn’t know you didn’t really belong, yet.

The sheep’s clothing worked, then.

You almost laughed at your own unspoken joke, and then, either compelled by fate, chance, or some mixture of both, your eyes rose and you saw him. It was definitely him. It was only the back of his head and black leather, but you knew it was him even before he turned around.

Jeon Jungkook.

You had seen him many times after the fact. However, this time was the first time that you came with weapons at your disposal, subtle as they were. For a moment, you wondered what to do. You stared as those brooding dark eyes widened in surprise. His hair was slicked back. Leather jacket, white tank, dark jeans, probably black boots. You couldn’t see it all from this angle. Still, you knew him too well. He wasn’t a suit-and-tie breed unless he was forced by the occasion. And, anyway.

You had mildly hoped that he would dress down these days, as it both suited him and reflected your preferred personal taste.

Egotistical, yes, and, now that you could see, true.

You broke the gaze first, seeing a waiter approach you. Bowed lightly, walking with him as he explained what was in store tonight, and yet your mind was still fixated on that shocked gaze from the far table up above. It did register that you were going up the stairs too, but somehow you knew that you weren’t going near that table.

You wondered if he regretted everything.

You wondered if he saw you differently now, dressed up and on a mission.

You wondered if Jeon Jungkook understood, truly, how deeply he had hurt you with his misdemeanors and you wondered if you, truly, understood how you didn’t help by always sweeping said misdemeanors under the metaphorical rug. You wondered if there was a chance for reconciliation or if this was all a big mistake. Maybe this was only another instance of two ships silently passing in the night. A pair of parallel lines that would never intersect. Or… would this become a pattern that could only be completed by intersection?

Whichever one it was, it was going to be evident tonight.

You raised your head, seeing a champagne bottle and another of expensive liquor.

“Are you ready?”

Your eyes shifted and you smiled up at the waitress.

“Yes, I am.”

She smiled and bowed her way out. Revenge. You savored the word. You had never thought of it that way, but then again that was because you always believed in the higher road. In enduring. That was how strength was formed. Vindication was unladylike and uncouth. Or so the story goes. You became aware that you were being watched.

I don’t belong here.

You twisted your body and stared directly into Jeon Jungkook’s eyes.

He pivoted away immediately. Unable to hold your gaze. Ashamed, probably. You pondered quietly. He brought you into this. All this around you – beauty, opulence, and the shadows between gold. Even without him, your connection to these people remained because his friends believed in you for some reason. You agreed, because maybe there was still something here for you.

But that was no reason to believe that you belonged here nor to act like it.

You realized, suddenly, that some part of you still thought you had to keep up the front.

“Excuse me.”

You looked up to a man who had the expression of a pleased kitty cat. His eyes disappeared from his smile. Radiant, cream skin. Long, bleached-blond hair that was half-tied back from his face but still skimmed along his shoulders. He wore a suit and tie, perfectly tailored, and was noticeably shorter than nearly everyone here. Then again, almost everyone here was a model, in high heels, or both.

“Did I interrupt?” he asked lightly, his intonation hinting at a Busan dialect.

“Oh, no,” you answered with a shake of your head. “I’m sorry. That was rude of me to space out like that. Please, sit down.”

The man laughed behind his hand before pulling out the chair and sitting down. He had elegant fingers that reminded you of a pianist. “It was cute,” he commented, somewhat shyly, before turning away and clearing his throat. He faced you once again, composed now, and bowed in greeting, stating his name.

You hurriedly did the same.

“I hope I’m not thinking too highly of myself by sitting here with you.”

You shook your head. “No, no. I want this to be an open invitation.” You poured him a glass of liquor to start off the night. He had a noticeable presence. Not a towering one, rather, as someone who knew himself well. Still, you could sense an introverted soul. “Don’t feel too pressured. I only want to ask a question.”

His eyebrows raised, curious. “A question?”

You smiled. “Yes. And I want you to promise to answer honestly.”

His lips upturned thoughtfully. There was something playful about his expressions. Very cute. Perhaps unintentional. “A promise right away to a stranger?”

You allowed yourself a little mischief. “Do I look like I could hurt anyone?”

The man across the table caught the bait and toyed with it. An expert. “Maybe. But that doesn’t mean It wouldn’t be pleasant.” He smiled again, with that same kitty cat contentment, and nodded. “Okay, I’m ready to tell the truth. You only get one chance. Use it well.” His tone teased, but his voice was sincere.

The question.

You stared into a stranger’s eyes and asked.

“What is the most important lesson in your life you’ve learned so far?”

-

i hear... | ... the whispers... | ... in your eyes.

--

masterpost

[djcarnationsblog]

I've made so much fanart already what is wrong with me??

....aight have some more-

@dianagj-art I mean this with all my heart when I say in full confidence that your separated leo au is my all time FAVORITE separated leo au

I mean this in no slight to any other sep leo au, but like-

HOLY SHIT THIS BOI IS SO FUN TO JUST FUCKING WATCH

LIKE-LOOK AT HIM GO, LOOK AT THAT LIL' SHIT GO, THAT MOTHERFUCKER MAKES ME WANT TO STRANGLE HIM/aff

Also, Primadonna by MARINA popped up on my playlist while I was drawing and it just hit me like a fucking TRUCK how well this song fits One, my god-

[kangaracha]

QUEENMAKER | CHAPTER 19

---

pairing chan x reader

genre ninth member au, angst, fluff, coming of age, social media, cancel culture, anxiety, depression, forbidden love,

summary To JYPE, the solution is simple; take the sole trainee that will not debut with your brand new girl group, and use her to replace the missing vocalist in your male group that insisted on starting as nine.

Unfortunately, to the fans and the members themselves, it isn't that simple.

status ongoing

taglist OPEN

a/n isn't life a mess right now? absolute chaos out there, i swear to god. stay safe everyone.

previous | masterlist | next

---

You're choosing to ignore the noise that you know clouds the air online as you file into the underside of the stage on the tail of the boys, early enough in the morning that they are still yawning and blinking bleary eyes open, coffee clutched in their hands.

Stay offline, they'll all tell you, and make sure you sleep too, but you're no good at either; sleep is hard to find in the face of what hovers over you in three days time, and it's almost worse to not know what's going on where you can't see it than to keep a finger pressed very casually to the pulse. Just to know what they think. Just to know what to expect when you inevitably come face-to-face with them.

Not that you'll see them too closely. Four songs on one day, that's all you were here for. No fan meetings, no signings. Not that you had a problem with that, when those four songs alone came with a mountain of nerves to climb and conquer and sure, you'd been taught how to feign confidence until your voice didn't waver and your feet kept dancing, but that stage...

You come out onto it from underneath, following eight sets of feet up a narrow set of hidden stairs, and stare upwards at the seats that line the hall. It's lucky you're at the end of the line, your feet rooted to the ground on the final step by the sudden, unnerving terror of being faced with that ring of empty space; the stage that stretches out before you seems so small compared to the towering walls of the hall, so far into the ground when you look up at the final row of seats and see them hovering far above you as if to look down from the heavens.

Chan glances back from the middle of the pack as they spread out across the stage, checking that everyone is present, and beckons for you to join them, the smile on his face a message you can't decipher. Maybe he takes pleasure in seeing you speechless, or maybe he's just excited to share this with you - or relieved that you finally made it here after he staked everything on believing it would happen. Even with his invitation, you still can't find it in yourself to move though; not until a manager's gentle hand pushes you up that final step and onto the stage, the surface thumping quietly under the fall of your feet.

There are so many things you don't know, wandering across those boards while the others spread from corner to corner, jumping around or stretching or arranging bottles of water at its edge. They look so comfortable here, following a routine their bodies intrinsically understand, while you are...lost, your hands wringing nervously as you gravitate towards Chan in the centre of the stage.

He's still smiling though, his hand reaching out to stop yours from pulling themselves apart. "Still okay?" he asks, repeating the first question he'd put to you upon seeing the looming height of the convention centre this morning. 

"Mmm," you reply with a mouth that has forgotten how to shape words. "Not really."

"Do you want to go back downstairs for a moment?"

You focus on him instead of the seats for a moment, the warm feeling of his hand where it brushes your arm, the slow fade of his smile into something more focused on the problem, and how he can fix it. "No," you say, before he can get any further ahead of himself than he already has, and force a breath down into your lungs. "I'll get used to it. I just need something to do."

"We'll warm up in a minute," he assures you, and twists to look at the four boys that are gathering on the edge of the stage behind him, squawking at something they've seen down below. "Unless Han falls off the stage. Then I might just give up and go home."

Your eyes stray over his shoulder to the boys teetering on the edge of the platform, the toes of their shoes hanging over a fall that is far from fatal but still not ideal. As if he'd heard your conversation, Han crouches in the centre of them all, wobbling back and forth - it's the hand that Changbin wraps around his arm at the last minute that saves him, tugging him back on his heels just before he can tip too far forward to save himself. 

"Are you going to stop them?" you ask Chan, and very deliberately put your hands in the pocket of your hoodie as if you are completely relaxed, willing him not to turn around. 

"I'm trying really hard not to look, actually," he answers, and then he turns thoughtful. "Maybe I should make it your job to try and stop them, if you need something to do."

"I don't think I have that kind of authority here," you say, huffing a laugh. "You've killed any respect they had for their elders."

"I know. Lee Know is working on it," Chan sighs, rubbing at the back of his neck.

"He has no respect either."

Chan's eyes flick to you, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth; and he doesn't count the joke out loud, but you know that in his head he is adding it to his tally. You're not sure how he remembers what number he is up to, or why he even bothers when you throw them out so sporadically, numerous one day when you're feeling bold and then nothing on other days when the urge to cower at the sight of the group chat or all of them loudly laughing together is too strong. And recently you've started to throw them out in person too, rather than just in the safety of your messages with him. 

Maybe he just makes the numbers up as he goes along. You haven't been keeping track of the total he says each time any more than you suspect he counts the jokes. 

"I'm glad this is an English concert, actually," he says suddenly, snapping your attention back to the present moment.

You frown in confusion. "What?" you ask, wondering if you'd spaced out for a moment and missed something he'd said.

"I was just thinking," he answers. "I'm glad we'll be speaking English this week."

You still don't follow. "Why?"

"Because if we're speaking English, you'll talk to me like this on stage."

You can only stare at him for a moment. Processing what he'd said, and the way he'd said it; genuine, with that smile still hiding in the corner of his mouth. "I don't know if I'll be able to say anything on stage," you say when the words have sunk in, scrambling for a response. "I'm going to be busy trying not to mess it up."

"Oh, come on," he scoffs. "You don't need to do that. Nothing is going to go wrong."

Somehow, his brazen confidence eases some of the tension in your chest. Maybe because he plays at being so entirely convinced that it's kind of funny; maybe because he'd already thrown you off beat a moment before and you're still reeling. "You cannot tell me that you believe that," you say; a joke, but a weak one, testing the waters rather than diving right in with any of the other responses that spring to mind.

"I am a hundred percent sure everything will go perfectly," he throws back without hesitation.

"Are you?" you tease, egged on by the grin that bites at his face. "I feel like you've basically cursed us now that you've said that."

His smile very deliberately falters, his mouth flattening into a put-upon line. "Go and warm up," he sighs dramatically, waving a hand. "No more talking about curses. Go on."

Your own smile doesn't budge as you turn away, sticking to your face until you gather with the others in the centre of the stage, stretching and loosening stiff and cold muscles, a warning to your body that it is nearly time to dance. It goes by in a flash with the distraction of Changbin's loud voice in the background and the complaints of the younger boys around him every time he yells, the laughter that the group shares. Chan was right, too; the distraction is just what you need, the laughter easing the anxiety that squeezes at your chest so that by the time you sort yourselves into the opening formation of God's Menu, you can almost imagine that it's just another day in the practice rooms at home.

"Ready?" Changbin asks as he rounds out the back of the formation, a hand held out flat between you.

You slap it with your own, loud enough that the sound echoes across the stage and he rescinds, shaking his palm out like it stings. "Ready," you confirm, adding strength to your voice so that he will believe you, and then you turn you backs on each other, crouching down back-to-back.

You spare Hyunjin a small smile, now in front of you where he crouches as well, and then drop your head as the music starts, counting the beats to the moment where you will jump to your feet.

It comes quick, barely four bars past the moment that that loud, discordant beat kicks in; quick enough that every time, it feels like it takes your breath away as Hyunjin turns to the side and you rise to your feet, only a moment before Felix and I.N shift outward too and reveal you to the empty crowd. It occurs to you again, in the fleeting of moments that passes between beats, just how terrifying that could be on the day that it matters - how it could be so easy to freeze in the spotlight and forget what you're supposed to do and where to go after-

"Ne sonnim!" you shout to an invisible audience, your throat remembering by itself the power that Changbin has beaten into you in the days since you'd taken the part and your hand rising into the air. Someone whoops into the microphone as you take your swift step to the left, out of Changbin's way - you almost laugh, but your concentration turns too quickly to the choreography and your place in the crowd, careful to stay out of Chan's way as he moves forward and you move back.

It gets easier from there, until the second verse comes around - hide at the back and keep up with the rest, part of a unit rather than leading the way into the light. Your parts follow on naturally, short and sharp movements paired with similar vocals in the verse, and then the relatively easy task of standing still and filling your chest with your voice while they continue the dance around you in the pre-chorus. 

And then, the bow at the end, the struggle not to stop and gasp for a breath of air in the five seconds of silence that follow.

Hyunjin is the first to fall on the third runthrough, sitting with a dramatic flourish and signalling the start of a break for everyone. Minho rolls a bottle of water across the stage to him, and then holds one out to you - you take it gratefully, your throat already dry just after one song. Nerves, you think as you sate your thirst and then pass the bottle off to I.N. 

"Happy?" you ask Hyunjin, still on the floor close enough to your feet that you're mindful of not stepping on him as you shuffle around, keeping your feet moving. 

He groans, his head rolling backwards to look at the ceiling. "We still have to run through Hellevator," he says, which is not an answer to the question, but not a complaint either. No news is good news, you assume, and nudge his bottle back towards him again as it wanders away down an imagined slant in the stage surface. 

"You have a whole day off tomorrow," I.N points out.

"No I don't," Hyunjin replies, unscrewing the cap of his water bottle. "I have schedules to go to."

"So do I," Seungmin puts in from behind you, a shadow at your back as he circles around to join the group.

"No, you don't," I.N says, his eyes tracking him as he walks. "The only thing we're doing is going out for lunch."

He flips the empty bottle in his hand up and down idly between two fingers as he speaks, his attention elsewhere. You can see the glint of playfulness in Seungmin's eyes as they mull over what he's said, and then look down, tracking the movement of the bottle - you don't see his hand before he whacks it out of I.N's hand and watches it bounce away down the stage, laughing at the look of disgust on the younger boy's face.

"Do you want to come out for lunch tomorrow, noona?" Seungmin asks while I.N is distracted by the bottle.

"I want to come out for lunch," Hyunjin says from the floor, carefully placing his own water out of Seungmin's reach.

"You're not invited," Seungmin throws back before he can be convinced. "Unless you're paying."

Hyunjin screws up his nose and turns away, climbing to his feet instead of answering. Minho calls your names from the other side of the stage only a moment later, the backing track of the new song they'd added just for you queuing and then stuttering to a stop over the sound system. "I'll come out for lunch," you answer Seungmin as you walk, I.N falling into your shadows. You specifically don't say anything about paying.

"Good," Seungmin says, "because we're making a vocalracha vlog."

If he notices the way your stomach drops at the mention of the vlog, he doesn't say anything, and you don't either - stupid, really, to feel nervous about the prospect of a camera pointed at you when you've spent all these years chasing that exact dream. Not to mention the amount of cameras that have caught you in their vision in the past - from instructors, and evaluations, and TV networks, and online content.

But to do it with them, for their fans who, so far as you've read, don't seem very interested in seeing you with them...the thought kind of turns your stomach upside down. Makes the sweat running down the back of your neck turn ice cold all of a sudden, your skin shivering at its sudden touch. 

"What are you worrying about?" I.N asks you suddenly, appearing at your shoulder.

"What?" Seungmin says on your other side.

Before you can answer, I.N cranes his neck to see the other boy and says, "She's worrying about something again. Look at her face."

"What?" you echo, and if your face wasn't screwed up in consternation before, it is now. "My face isn't doing anything. How would you know? You were behind me the whole time."

"You can pull expressions with the back of your head?" Seungmin asks. "That's weird. You're weird."

You arrive in the circle of the rest of the group like that, I.N looking at Seungmin like he has something equally witty that he wants to say. Chan leans behind Seungmin with a funny twist to his mouth that says from one look, he knows exactly what you're going through, and wordlessly offers you a microphone. You pull down your headset as you take it and tune out whatever Seungmin says next, calling up the lyrics to the next song as the music starts. 

You note, as you sing the first line, that the tension in your chest has eased away as quickly as it had tightened. You have a feeling that was I.N's perogative the entire time. Either way, you're grateful. 

—

"Annyeong," Seungmin says to the camera that sits heavy in his hand, hoisted up to keep its lense from catching the sun as you walk down the street. "This is our vocalracha exclusive outing. No one else is allowed."

"Stay is allowed," I.N says beside him, poking his head into frame just to give Seungmin a look that the camera will catch, and they start off on an argument that plays out so naturally you can almost forget that the camera is there at all.

Except that you can't, because every time you stare into the face of it from where you're hiding on one side, your stomach drops and your limbs stiffen like they don't know what to do with themselves, anticipating the moment that it turns onto you.

Not that you haven't seen a camera before, or even had to produce this kind of content. The survival show you'd once done had loved this type of content just as much as any other, and there was always someone recording something in practice rooms, whether it ended up online or not...but this felt different somehow. More revealing, or more public, maybe, because of the audience that would surely be waiting to watch it. Because of the way that audience felt about you, lain out so clearly in a hundred comment sections online for you to see.

"You know who is invited," Seungmin says, cutting over whatever I.N has just told him with little regard for the other boy's opinions. "Our noona is here to buy us lunch."

You blink, and the eye of that camera turns to look at you in the moment that you aren't paying attention, cornering you within its gaze. Ignore it, you tell yourself firmly around the lump that begins to form in your throat, and turn your head to look at Seungmin instead, trying to remind yourself of the conversation topic. "Is that the only reason you invited me?" you ask, and resist the urge to wince when it comes out flatter rather than playful, the joke choking on itself before it can even reach your tongue.

Seungmin doesn't miss a beat, his lips pursed like he's thinking about it. "Youngest always pays," he says. 

Behind him, you can see I.N's gaze turn sharp, already preparing to be the next one under fire. "I'm older than you," you point out mildly, not wanting to swing the conversation one particular direction or another.

"Grandma always pays," he fires back.

"You can't just change the rules to whatever you like," I.N says.

"Says who?"

"Everyone," you tell him.

"Do you even know where you're going?" I.N asks.

Seungmin scoffs. "No. That wasn't my job."

"Why are you leading then?"

"I'm following Stay." 

Their attention snaps so naturally back to the camera that it feels like whiplash, like you're lagging one step behind and you can't quite catch up. You tail off again as Seungmin starts explaining your day and what you're doing after this to an invisible audience, sliding back out of view and into your comfort zone to the side of the camera, forcing a breath right down into the bottom of your lungs. 

You're going to have to get used to this, and the idea that everyone is going to see everything you do. It's silly to try to dance around it when there is no way out, but still, you let yourself slip away when you can no longer muster the strength to hold yourself within view of that camera, promising that another day you will try harder. Another day, it will come easier, and you will stand there and chatter on to that lense without thinking twice, just like the boys do.

Today isn't that day though. Neither will tomorrow be, and the day after-

The day after, you are on stage, for all the world to scrutinise in full view rather than in a box on a computer screen.

---

"You can go out when you're ready," the stylist tells you with a final adjustment of the hem of your shirt, gently tugging the creases into just the right position. "Have a good dress rehearsal. Let me know if there's anything we can fix."

She moves out of the way of the mirror so that you can see the entire piece. It's a simple concept, really, dark and grungy to fit the group's ongoing concept and yet pulled off in pieces of soft cotton and the glimmering gold of the plain rings on your fingers. You could almost imagine yourself sitting at home doing nothing, except for the makeup that sharpens the lines of your face and deepens its shadows, the embellishments that dangle from the loose cargo pants that cover your legs and the way that the hoodie's sleeves billow artfully at your sides. A safe outfit for a first performance, except for the strip of skin that shows at your midriff whenever you move, the shirt's hem cut at just the right length to expose it.

There'd been a lot of back-and-forth over outfits in the past few weeks. You'd only been privy to the part of it where they'd asked how much are you comfortable with and you'd answered I don't mind what I wear, and then the fittings afterwards in which there was a new outfit every time, but you knew there'd been...discussions. Arguments. Mistakes, nearly, and since then it seemed like the entire group's styling had been toned down to accomodate the lack of agreement over yours, which was-

Music starts playing upstairs somewhere, blaring from the speakers and then cutting off again. "Thankyou," you say to the stylist, who is already busy with something else, and cut across the room to where the boys are gathering around a manager who is handing out equipment. 

"Ah, noona!" Changbin says as you approach, his voice deliberately pushed high and light to match the broad smile that crosses his face. "I haven't introduced our noona yet!" A camera follows him, latching onto you before you have time to duck away - you swallow the nerves that suddenly pile onto your chest and focus on the smile you're giving Changbin in greeting and the table behind him that you're trying to reach. 

"Hello Stay," you say to no one, waving at the camera for the two seconds you're comfortable enough to look at it. You busy yourself with the search for your equipment on the table as an excuse to turn away and collect yourself, preparing for the onslaught of questions that you know Changbin has been told to ask.

"That's right, Stay," he says to the camera in your peripheral vision, filling the empty space that would otherwise be left. "Just for you, we brought our new member to LA to show you just how cool she is. Right, Y/N?"

There, over in the corner. "Yes," you say over your shoulder and then grab the bundle of cords and monitors, careful not to tangle anything. "I've come after a long time to join everyone here."

"You hear that, Stay? We trained her for a long time just for you."

The way that Changbin fills the air all on his own is like a weight lifted off your chest, giving you a chance to breathe while he natters on about the schedule and how he expects the performance to go and whatever else happens to come to his mind. Hyunjin's arrival provides further relief; you busy yourself with the equipment in your hands while you hang in the background of their show, appropriately on camera and yet out of the way of the spotlight while you pretend to be too busy to talk.

The in-ears pack unravels itself in your hands, a long string of cord and a monitor that nearly slips from your hand as you separate it, conveniently providing a real distraction rather than the one you were pretending to focus on. You clip it at your hip before it can hit the floor, your other hand reaching up to feed the cord down your back.

"Ah, wait, wait, wait," a voice says behind you as you try to tug the cord down through your shirt, and then warm fingers brush the back of your neck, brushing your hair away from a knot you hadn't realised had formed at your collar. Your head turns so that you can see Chan out of the corner of your eye, picking at the cord until it falls freely down your spine. You catch the other end of it with your hand, turning to face him as you plug it into the monitor.

"I don't know how I did that," you admit with half a smile, quiet enough that the camera behind you won't pick it up. 

"Five minutes in and you're breaking things already," he returns, his fingers gently shifting a lock of hair out of the way of the cord. It slips from his fingers as you turn to face him, adjusting the way that the earpieces fall over your shoulders and dangle around your neck.

"I like the outfit they gave you," he says as you take in what they've dressed him in - artfully designed cargo pants, just like yours, and a sleeveless shirt that's half-tucked at the waist, detailed in silver. "The SKZ style suits you."

"You think so?" you ask, looking down at yourself again. Too self conscious, you know, but you're mindful of what it might look like from the outside, what the fans might think of you when the boys move aside and they see you for the first time on that stage- "It's not too..."

"No, it's perfect," Chan insists. "You look good."

You struggle to keep your face from turning red as you say, "Thanks." By the way his lips pinch together, trying to swallow a smile, you're pretty sure you fail.

"Are you going up now?" he asks, a hand pointing to the stairs that lead to the stage.

"In a minute," you answer. "I just need-" You spy the object you're looking for as you speak; your headset, neatly wrapped on the other side of the table. It only takes a moment to unwind, looping it over your head and reaching back to feed the cord through again.

"Have you tried using a microphone?" Chan asks, circling around you again to free the cord from your collar before you can displace everything. 

"I thought it would be better if my hands were free," you answer. "Maybe next time I will."

"Use whatever you want," he says, watching as you hook up the headset and shuffle its components into a space where they are comfortable. 

When you're done, he offers you a hand, his body twisted towards the stairs. "Ready?" he asks.

You glance behind you before you take the hand that's offered, looking for Changbin's camera. You find it in the corner of your eye, pointed safely at Felix as he endeavours to take uninterrupted selfies up against the back wall. When you turn back, Chan is still waiting, his hand steady and his patience unending, as if he'd stand there an eon if it meant you would walk up those stairs with him.

"Ready," you say, the word dragging all your breath out with it, and you take his hand, the warmth of his palm sinking into your cold fingers and the strength of his grip dragging you up into the world above.

---

A squeal of delight that echoes in the large, empty space is all the warning you get before a body barrels into you, uncaring of the phone held in your hands or even if you're looking up when she meets you.

Minseo, her hands cold and her body familiar as she hugs you tight enough to squeeze all the breath out of your lungs and then pulls away to look at your face with a smile that you feel like you haven't seen in decades. Her cheeks are pink from the cold air outside, her gaze alight as a giggle rises to the surface of her breath at the luck or the absurdity of you meeting in this place, at this time, after so long apart. 

"I can't believe you're here," she says, as if you haven't known for weeks that you would be in the same hotel at the same time, scheduled to perform the same day. "I can't believe I'm here. God, we have so much to catch up on."

"I can't believe I'm here either," you answer. "After everything that's happened this year-"

"Don't you dare tell me you might not have been here," Minseo threatens, one finger prodding at the air between you. 

"Maybe I was going to say we might not have been here," you lie.

She sees through you immediately, arms crossing over her chest. "No, you weren't."

No, I wasn't. "Are we hanging out in your room or mine?" you ask instead to distract her.

Her eyes stray to the desk behind her, where her managers and the rest of her group wait patiently. "Well I don't even have my room yet, so..." her voice trails off suggestively, her back turning on her team with the conviction that tells you she would abandon them here without a second thought if you let her.

"Get your key first," you say, reaching out and pushing her back towards the desk. "I'll come up with you."

"But I can't wait that long to hear what you've been doing here for three days," she whines.

"Nothing special," you insist.

TAGLIST

@kokinu09 @rainfallingfromthesky @lixie-phoria @mysweethannie @chlodavids

@hanniemylovelyquokka @tfshouldidohere @lauraliisa @puppysmileseungmin @kalopsian-thoughts

@puppy-minnie @readerofallthingss @dvbkie099 @kthstrawberryshortcake-main @acker-night

@d-chagi @lynlyndoll @borahae-reads @ihrtlix @yienmarkk

@minhwa @i2innie @jinnie-ret @conwunder @amesification

@starssongs98 @weirdhumanbeinglol @morinuu @the-weird-mold-in-the-sink @bokkiesplace

@amyyscorner @jiisungllvr @skzstaykatsy @blackhairandbangs @jungkookies1002

@hyuuukais @imsiriuslyreal @thatonedemigodfromseoul @gini143 @mercurywritesstuff

@splat00z @filmbypsh @palindrome969 @crabrangoongirl25 @enzos-shit

@jabmastersupriseee @kayleefriedchicken @hynjinswrld @duhgurl @cheshireshiya

@keepswingin

[trans-luis-serra-navarro]

HI ERIC HELLO PLEASE HEAR ME OUT

i literally can't stop thinking about something

i loveee re6 AUs with luis, but

death island!luis !!!!

specifically, a scenario where he saves leon instead of/with rebecca. like imagine him working with rebecca on the vaccine and delivering it to the island to save leon and the rest 😭😭

and i actually see two scenarios here

either luis is obviously alive and all, and leon knows it, and it's just, hey! my husband's here to save the day!!

OR it's a big reveal lol. rebecca shows up there like, 'a friend helped me', and it's LUIS there with her. like, i know rebecca is super capable and she made the vaccine all alone in the movie , but just imagine if it was actually a bit more complicated, so she would have to reach out for help, and who would be better than luis

i NEED to see luis and rebecca team up, they'd work so well together 😭😭

and older serennedy!!!!! omg

i just need to see older luis 😭😭 and the parallel with him delivering the suppressant in re4, and now the vaccine

i don't know what i wanted to say with this and i really didn't think it through that well, and it's rushed, but i really need to share these thoughts 😭

@silverhexrt HI SO UM. THIS ASK WAS SENT IN JUST OVER A WEEK AGO and it gave me SUCH AGGRESSIVE brain worms that I was like Oh this would make for SUCH a cute little Drabble!!!!! But then I just. Kept going. So I accidentally made a whole entire fic for you!! I really truly hope you don’t mind!!!!!!!!! ;^^/

I know this blog is more of a character analysis blog so if you or anyone else still wants to talk to me about the LOGISTICS of what Luis in Death Island would look like I’d be MORE THAN HAPPY TO RAMBLE cuz I am SO FASCINATED by how that would work character and legalities wise,,, but uh for now!! I hope you don’t mind this little thingymadgig I made!!!

Fatigue was the overwhelming sensation dragging Leon’s body down. His breathing was labored and his skin burned against the Velcro of his protective gear- far from unfamiliar territory in terms of the worst symptoms he’d survived. But this somehow felt so, so much worse.

Leon felt like he was dying. Like actually dying. Which was downright terrifying.

He hated that he even knew what dying felt like. Leon could easily pick up on the little ways his body began to shut down; it felt like he couldn’t breath in far enough to fill his lungs, his limbs felt weighed down by an invisible force, his vision was blurry… except, this time, it was his own body killing him from the inside-out.

He was much more used to- even comfortable with- the close brush of death being from the hands of a Bioweapon or loose debris crushing his body. Leon at least had some level of control in those scenarios. He could kick and wriggle and spit and cuss out whatever was holding him down until a miracle freed him and he could load bullets into the face of whatever was hunting him.

But Leon couldn’t run from his own body, no. And oh, how badly did he wanna run until his legs burnt beneath him.

Leon had only ever felt that inherent, gut-wrenching urge one other time. One other time when he was on the brink of death and freedom alike; warm tan hands and cold needles in an isolated village so far from home. Leon could’ve taken the medicine and ran. He could’ve watched the world burn from behind his lovers back as they chased windmills without a care in the world.

He could’ve faced death in the eye. He could’ve taken the blade of the knife for him. He could’ve been just a fraction of a second too late for Ashley. Oh, the possibilities.

What a weird time to be thinking about Valdelobos. Maybe it was just his oxygen-deprived brain desperately trying to connect the dots for one last dream. Like falling asleep with the TV on and having a dream about the movie you’d just watched. Arias had his own ‘inspirations’ from Los Illuminados, after all. Maybe he was just trying to think of one last happy memory to drift off to.

Leon hoped dying would be a little bit like falling asleep. He was never religious, never superstitious- but deep down he hoped that he’d be reunited with the loved ones he’d lost. Finally, finally getting the chance to feel those warm palms against his cheek that he missed oh-so dearly.

Leon sighed and let the concrete below his hands wobble a little. He could just barely make out Chris and Claire’s labored breathing from behind him- the only other thing keeping him grounded.

But god was it getting hard. He couldn’t tell if it was just the pure exhaustion or the virus or what, but Leon’s head felt so heavy. Heavy enough that it almost felt as though somebody was holding it up for him. He let himself pretend, just for a moment, that it wasn’t just his imagination. That the warmth on his cheek wasn’t his flushed skin and were instead the hands of a lover, keeping him upright and rested against a beating heart that Leon was sure was just the blood roaring in his ears.

He let himself pretend that the stroke he felt against his cheek was his lovers thumb. A lover so considerate that they’d wipe the blood off of his skin and tuck the loose hair behind his ears. He pretended that the murmuring of his ears giving in was somebody talking to him, whispering comfort in his final moments.

Leon almost let himself give in completely to the imaginary man holding him- the distant scent of leather and cigarettes felt so real, after all- but a cold prick against his neck and the immedie, cold relief of fluids beneath his skin snapped him back to reality.

His breathing came back to him in time with his heartbeat, his fingertips pulsed with the sudden pumping of blood, and…

The feeling of somebody holding him hadn’t gone away.

His cheek was still warm with another man’s hand. His nose still stung with the smell of leather.

His heart was still beating in time with somebody else’s.

Leon hesitated. He didn’t want to open his eyes. He knew he was just dreaming- that he’d look up and the vision of the man he yearned for every night would disappear like a mirage. He wanted to keep them closed and pretend for as long as possible. Until-

“Leon? ¿Corazón? Mierda, Rebecca, he’s not responding-“

Leon’s eyes opened just slightly.

He was staring down at the concrete, somebody must’ve moved him to get access to his neck easier. But he wasn’t dreaming. He wasn’t dreaming of the arms clad in white wrapped around his shoulders and the ringlets of curls that fell around his vision, shielding him from the fluorescent Alcatraz prison lights.

Warm hands went back to stroking his cheek.

Leon wasn’t dreaming.

“Leon? Oh, please wake up,”

His voice sounded so broken, so quiet. Leon had never heard of it like that. It broke his heart.

“I can’t- I can’t leave you here, not like this, not again, please…”

Leon couldn’t take it anymore. He was terrified to roll over and face the man he’d chased in his dreams for so long but he had no other option. He’d rather he disappear and it all be his imagination than hear him this sad ever again.

Leon turned his head and blinked up at Luis like a newborn deer. His big, brown eyes were wet with tears but that stupidly charming smile was unmistakable.

“Hey there, Leon…”

Luis managed to croak out, the hand against his cheek trembling from the tears. Leon reached his own shaky hand up to brush Luis’ long, grayed locks out of his face just as he had done moments before for him.

“I must be dreaming,” Leon huffed out, and Luis chuckled, shaking his head and the tears from his reddened cheeks at the same time.

“If you’re dreaming, then so am I, I’m afraid”

“I’ll take my chances.”

Luis chuckled and Leon wasn’t far to follow suit. Even with the end of the world on his shoulders- even with Dylan fighting tooth-and-nail to break down his, Jill’s and everyone else’s spirits- Leon still found time to laugh with Luis like it was autumn of 2004 all over again.

“Just like old times, eh, Sancho?” Luis gave a little sniffle, and while Leon had more than too many questions to ask- how he was even alive was obviously the most pressing- he just couldn’t find it in himself to care.

“Yeah,”

He let himself rest his head against Luis’ chest. Heart beating strong, almost as if to mock Leon for ever doubting his lover's strength.

“Just like old times, Don Quixote…”

[paper-sunflower-lane]

EAH AU: RedWolf Angst Edition

I don't know if it's just me but as much as I love Red Riding Hood and Badwolf together living happily ever after with their two daughters I need angst.

So I started thinking about how much more heartbreaking it would be if Cerise didn't know that Badwolf was her Dad and that Ramona didn't know that Red was her mom because they had separated for safety.

Red wasn't allowed to tell Cerise about her father or her sister again for safety reasons and fear that if she said who Cerise's father was out loud someone might hear and take Cerise and Ramona away, with Badwolf being the same way.

And now with Cerise in Ever After High Badwolf sees her every single day, he sees how much she's grown and how he missed everything. And he wants so badly to go and talk to her, to embrace her, to just stand in front of her and really see her if only for a few seconds. He can't though, he knows he can't, because that would put them all in danger.

Red on the other hand doesn't get that torture/privilege she doesn't see Ramona until way down the line and it's only for a brief moment. It's only for a few seconds while running around town does she sees her oldest daughter, and she wants to run to her and hold her close like she had once done so long ago; then she blinks and she's lost in the crowd.

And in this world, Cerise doesn't really have any outer wolf traits, but she does have inner wolf traits speed, strength, agility, the need to be in the woods at all times, to rough-house, to bare her teeth when a threat shows its head. She doesn't know why she does these things, no one else does these things, and she doesn't know why there's this empty feeling in her chest whenever she hears a wolf howling at night.

Then there's Ramona who has no clue why she feels so hollow even if she's around her Dad and the rest of their pack. She doesn't understand why when she sees flashes of red she feels a sort of nostalgic longing and sometimes a little teary-eyed. She doesn't know why she feels like she's missing an important half of herself that she can't fill no matter how hard she tries. She's not alone, she knows she's not alone, Ramona is almost never alone, why does she feel like she is?

Don't even get me started on how Red and Badwolf long for one another, how they both stay awake at night wishing that the other was with them, wishing for one more night or one more morning just anything other than longing glances.

I know this is a messy rant, but I've been thinking about this for like two days and I really needed to get it out.

[magpiefngrl]

hey! curious new writer here. which fix of yours were the easiest to write and which were the hardest? in what way?

Hello anon! Thanks for an interesting ask.

OK I'll start with the disclaimer that every fic has its difficulties as well as moments when it flows, but there have definitely been some that poured out of me with great ease than others which were a constant struggle.

The Miseducation of Draco Malfoy, my first drarry, was written at the height of my obsession and it poured out of me. I wrote like a fiend all day and would go to bed at night and reread what I wrote. I breathed that fic day and night for the weeks it took me to write it. It was also the most fun I had writing, prob because I was a complete unknown and there were zero expectations from me. Similarly, The Full Monty, written just after TMODM, was an easy fic to write. I remember I read the prompt and was immediately assaulted by images and started laughing on my own and was like, OK I need to claim this, the fic is writing itself.

Similarly but in a more tortuous way, dirtynumbangelboy poured out of me too. More tortuous because it took me ages to find the right beginning, and by then I was behind with my deadlines and got stressed. Also, I wrote it in a sort of dread of the Erised fest, because it had some amazing writers that year and I was intimidated. I remember my goal was to "at least not embarrass myself" .

But, aside from the doubts and stress, dnab itself flowed like nothing else. There are passages that I really love, even now years later, and they are exactly as they came out the first time. I did very little editing (compared to other works).

With The Boy Who Died I made a fun post on tumblr about a mdzs AU of drarry and then the idea wouldn't let me go so I had to sit and write it. Luckily it was summer and I didn't work and I could spend my days writing it. There were moments I got stumped but it mostly came out easily.

Finally, a lot of my short fics poured out of me in one go and came out almost perfectly formed. The Dare, A Perfectly Normal Reaction, and my MCD The Death You Carry are good examples.

Fics that took ages at first:

so my thing is that I have to find the right opening to begin the story, otherwise I can't proceed. I don't plan; the first scene/chapter is my plan. And sometimes I get stuck for yonks. With The Unquiet Grave I began with a Draco POV, him being a politician and Harry his bodyguard, had an interesting first scene and then---nothing. It's like I hit a wall. Zero words come. When I have this feeling, I know I need to go back and revise. Long story short, it was when I changed the POV to Harry that somehow the whole gothic mood came about and I felt the auspicious click: I got it. That's what the story is. A gothic romance. After that, it was easier.

The same thing happened with Hush, darling. I rewrote a first scene fruitlessly several times until a random bit of inspiration fell into my hands: the visual of a card game. I began with it and I let it guide me and the whole plot/stakes/cast fell into place.

Fics that needed a LOT of work and had to be dragged into existence:

The Gift is the first that comes to mind. First couple of chapters were pretty easy and then I was stumped. Writing it felt like dragging myself up a slope, step by step and also not being happy with anything, so that was fun. :/

The other is 9 ½ Days, which took actual years to finish. In that case the middle part was the hard one. I wrote the beginning fairly easily and the last chapters, the plotty ones, also flowed. But the middle. Zeus almighty. It took me years and I thought and thought and thought about it a lot. Finishing this fic was an immense relief but also a source of pride, especially because I really liked the result, and judging by the comments I get, people seem to love it too.

Thanks for an unusual ask! It was good to ponder about my fics and my writing process. The same issues seem to crop up with my original works too, and it's helpful to remind myself that I got over those issues before and I can get over them again.

[thepacifistrouter]

Chelley week, day 6: Heartbeat

Okay, I was excited about this day and category, it was the first one I actually did, but I didn't feel like I could convey it in drawings (or that it would take me too long if I did it with that), so I turned it into a short-fic I know it probably won't be well received for that reason, but it was something I really wanted to do, so… well, here it goes.

Thump

It was a cold, but mostly calm winter night, the wind was blowing outside Eaden's bakery, it wasn't especially strong, but it managed to generate howls and the trees to move enough for their wood to make a crackling sound from time to time.

The place, like most of the town, was mostly made of wood, but firmly and solidly built, even though until not long ago, they had to remodel a little inside, mostly the room in which its inhabitants slept - After all, since the second of them arrived, or rather, since they started sleeping together, it had become a necessity to make the ceiling a bit or two higher.

Yeah, a lot of changes had happened in that place, how it had turned from a place of tension, of banging on the wall and night terrors, to not only having an adequate roof so that anyone could stand without crashing or hitting or needing another bandage in his head, it also has a proper window, normal curtains, furniture, and decorations. It was a completely different place. Just like the people sleeping in it.

One of them, the one with the shortest stature, opens her eyes slightly, having woken up, with the weather - or rather the wind - being the main cause, along with a slight drop in temperature. When she was alone, she usually didn’t notice the presence of those stimuli due to being busy with her own nightmares, which either woke her up or kept her distracted. It could also happen that, if she manages to sleep with no nightmares or no dreaming at all, if she noticed them, than the sound plus the cold would bring back bad memories of unpleasant, cold places with hollow sounds on a smaller scale -usually that involved a short walk to the kitchen for a warm milk cup. and a re-reflection on her life and the events surrounding her until she could fall asleep again.

Things are different now. She had managed to get used to it, to feel those signals that reminded everyone that there was still a long time before winter left and spring take place, to stop associating every small unpleasant and cold noise with That place. But of course, as with any person, there could be exceptions, it could happen to anyone that the seasons could wake you up with the weather in the middle of the night, always something inopportune. The main difference was that, in the current time, she had other, new tools to deal with them and, her untold favourite, involved the person who slept a few centimetres from her.

A tall, too-tall, skinny, gawky blonde man who was fast asleep facing her. He was also the main person responsible for the vast majority of changes that both her house and her life had undergone. The mere presence of him there had been and had had a couple of changes.

Not that she was complaining at all, au contraire, having him there, next to her every night, was nothing less than welcome. In fact, at times like this, it was exactly what she needed.

Moving stealthily and carefully (never a problem for her) so that she becomes attached to him. That, at first instance, fixes the problem of the cold, probably for both of them, she knew he could have woken up at some point because of the same reason, neither of them were very fond of the cold after all- but of course, this was not just about the cold, if it was, being like that would have been enough or she could just have gotten up quickly and stealthily, as only she could, to get a blanket and come back and problem solved. No, this was different and required a small specification in her movements. And that was to put her head right at the height of his chest, so she could carefully rest her ear on it, close her eyes and just pay attention.

*Thump-thump*

She smiled.

There it was.

*Thump-thump*

The sound she was looking for.

*Thump-thump*

It wasn't a necessity, but it was something she liked to do from time to time, if the opportunity and circumstances presented themselves (like in this moment) - it was something more like an habit, perhaps? She didn't know, she just knew that for her it was almost like that feeling that comes from the sound of rain and a crackling fireplace on calm nights. Maybe even better. It was simply something that brought her peace.

And it wasn't just because of how she felt about him, although that was an important reason, but she knew it wasn't the only one. It was complicated, after all, it was, on a small scale, a vague reminder of everything they had experienced, but somehow... in a good way.

*Thump-thump*

It made her remember different related moments. How, the first time she saw him in a human form, that prototype avatar of solid light that they had made, was just that, an almost perfect, almost empty mirage, it wasn't real... it wasn't alive, Wheatley was the one that, while being awake, gave it life. Remembering, also, how, watching him asleep (or well, in sleep mode), if she hadn't known, and anyone who didn't know, she would have thought he was dead.

*Thump-thump*

Then, that time on the hill, when she leaned her face as she was doing now, but back then, there was nothing, just something similar to the noise of the LED light in a kitchen or the hard light bridges in That place. It was a strange, uncomfortable feeling... even sad, it made her think about what they did to him, what they took from him and that his whole being, in fact, was actually in something not much bigger than a pen with lights and a lot of unnecessarily complicated Aperture technology.

*Thump-thump*

Even more, at this point, it was… almost hard to believe that he didn't always look like that. Human. Even though, he always acted like one. Who knows how long he was in his little spherical body. She was sure that even now he must feel, at least in part, as if he still is in some level. She knew that at least he still didn't stop completely feeling like a machine and she had her doubts than that would ever change - if it could, there was still plenty of time for that and it was fine, she didn't mind giving him time to adjust to things, it could be annoying, yes, but it was even sweet to see when he made progress on something, how happy he was and how, truly, he kept trying after failing and learned from what he did - achieved or not. Little by little he had begun to stop pretending so often that he knew or could do things that he really didn't, to quick so fast, and start to actually try, to practice and learn despite failing till he gets it and finally being able to do it. Frustration could still become an issue for him, depending on the situation, he could still seek responsibility or blame in others (or things) while failing - fortunately that was something that had also been slowly decreasing over time. Probably, knowing that no one would harm him or throw him up if he failed, specially not her, was a great help on his progress (Plus, the enthusiasm and shine in his eyes when he finally managed to do something well was priceless)

*Thump-thump*

Then, she also remembered the first time she heard that beat, that last time they stepped into That horrible place never to return. He was naked and soaked in a slimy, stinky, gross substance, but in that moment she felt such a relief to see him, she couldn't have cared less about any of it -he was there, he was alive and he seemed to be fine, that was all that mattered -she just needed to go check him and make sure of the “being fine” part. It was in the middle of a hug when she heard it. She was so excited to see him alive that she had overlooked it, distracted by so many emotions and sensations, but being who she was, it didn't take her long to react and, after a small check, It didn't take her long to solve the puzzle. That was not a mirage or an artificial body, it was his actual body, this was real. He had his human body back.

*Thump-thump*

Of course, at that moment there wasn't much time to process it, they were a little more worried about getting back to town all in one piece.

*Thump-thump*

Someone would think that after a couple of 101 lessons on being human and relearning how to use their organic body, everything should have gone fine, but the truth is that they would still have to go through one or two more big Aperture Science Labs headache, but at least this one wouldn't involve the "labs" part, so, by comparison, they weren't that big… but still.

*Thump-thump*

At first it was just a couple of colds, flu, stomach pains, allergies (luckily they taught him not to take too many medicines at the same time to get better sooner because it doesn't work like that), his forehead testing all the edges of 2 meters or less of the town. A lot of unpleasant stuff, but nothing particularly bad - who knows how many decades in suspended animation without even contact with air wreak havoc on anyone's immune system and physical condition -at least he managed to cover his mouth by reflex when sneezing or coughing... most of the time.

The real problem came later, a couple of months later and it started with what seemed to be another case of the flu, but accompanied by a lack of appetite and more and more noticeable fatigue, among other things. He was trying to hide the seriousness of the matter, trying to make it seem like just the flu, saying from time to time that he was starting to feel better and finding ways to make it seem that way. But there was no way to continue the attempt of a theatre once she saw him fall passed out, burning with fever while he tried to go down the stairs (luckily it was almost halfway). The scare plus her own instinct helped her react quickly enough and effectively to first check that there were no serious injuries and then go find help.

The details of what happened are long, complicated, almost worthy of an adventure, but at that moment, Chell could only especially remembered being there, in Dr. Dillon's guest/patient room, him asleep in the bed and her in a chair next to the bed. She went there when she could to check on his progress, changing wet towels and checking him, his temperature, his breathing...and his pulse. Since she checked him after the fall, she could feel how his heart took on such irregular rhythms, sometimes almost at the level of tachycardia... and sometimes so low... without a doubt they were days of worry and discomfort for everyone, including fear for them both. It was an absolute relief when things finally became normal and she could see him acting with the same energy as always, having regular breathing, and being like this, in that very moment, while she was listening to that sound in the rhythm it should.

*Thump-thump*

Of course, not all were bad memories, you could say that a third and final part of what makes this pleasant for her is what that sound transmits to her, his heartbeat could become as much or more communicative than his voice-which is saying a lot, especially on those... private occasions, planned or not. Like that first time, when she found him in the bathroom naked, confused and scared by a part of his own body's functioning that he knew nothing about, so she helped him to... clear up the misunderstanding… by using the empirical method.

She discovered 2 things that night: First, that she liked to feel how, at that moment, the most obvious part of his body was not the only one that showed emotion when they were that close, it was as if they had disconnected his mouth so they could say almost everything that needed to be said.

*Thump-thump*

Second thing was, deep down, she liked having that kind of control over him. Perhaps because he was someone so vulnerable and at the same time so paradoxically unpredictable and predictable at the same time. Having that level of control over him and the circumstances around at such an intimate level was an extremely satisfying delight, almost irresistible to her so, of course, when she managed to prepare, from time to time, very occasionally, she would gladly take advantage of her position. During those encounters, she even learned that there was difference when the heart races out of fear, out of happiness, or out of pleasure.

*Thump-thump*

And now this.

Moments like this, in some certain different way, also counts as a private, intimate moment, but instead of hot, they are warm.

These moments not only allow her to feel his more honest and vulnerable side, but also allows her herself to be openly vulnerable, knowing she would be safe by being it, even if it was just for a bit of a time.

*Thump-thump*

*Thump-thump*

Someone could say, in summary, that these moments, taking the time to listen and/or feel carefully, from time to time, was something that, in some way, for her defined very well his presence in her life and himself, a reminder of what he went through - what they both went through to get here, of who he was and what she liked about him, his fragility, his spontaneity, and that strange paradoxical strength that he himself doesn't seem to realize, but it does seem to be based in that cheerful endless optimism. He made her feel warm inside and happy to have him there with her, alive and in peace. Maybe it wasn't all always joy and happy and fun, but right now, there was no way she could ever say that she regretted it.

*Thump-thump*

*Thump-thump*

It didn't take long for her to begin to fall asleep again, without separating a single centimetre from his chest, from his heartbeat, as if it were a little coo just for her.

*Thump-thump*

Shortly before she completely falls back in the Morpheus arms, she gives herself the small luxury of carefully wrapping one of her arms around him.

*Thump-thump*

To her surprise, somehow he, unconsciously -because she was very sure he was still asleep- seemed to realize this and, in response, slowly and clumsily moved his own arm to lightly puts it around her in the same way.

After that slight initial surprise and a quick processing, she simply smiled - without moving from where she was, without taking her face off his chest, she closed her eyes again and, letting herself be carried away by the calm, but somehow cheerful way of his heartbeat, she finally fell asleep.

*Thump-thump*

[hailsatanacab]

A Persuasive Argument - dpxdc

"Great!" Danny says, clapping his hands together to get everyone's attention. The dinner table falls silent as everyone looks towards him. It's a full house today and, honestly, Danny's a little nervous. "I'm sure you're all wondering why I gathered you here today."

"It's dinnertime. In our house." Duke mutters, while doing a very bad job of concealing his yawn. He holds his fork poised over the braised beef, but, just like everyone else, still looks towards Danny before tucking in. It's intriguing enough to wait.

"Yeah, no one misses Alfie's dinner." Dick says, with a brilliant smile that Danny can't help but return.

"Precisely! What better time to talk to you all than when you're all actually here!"

"Wait, I thought you came round to work on our English essays?" Tim asks, blinking owlishly.

"I'm afraid I've lured you here under false pretences, Tim."

"This is where I live."

"I would still really appreciate help on that essay though, I mean, what the hell is Hamlet even about? I just don't get that old time-y language, like 'Hark! A ghost hath killed me!' - absolute rubbish, what does that even mean?"

"The ghost never kills anyone in Hamlet, he's there to tell Hamlet that he was murdered. Have you actually read it?"

"No, but it sounds like you have. Tim, I want this guy to help me with my essay instead. I know for a fact that you haven't read Hamlet, either."

"So? We don't need Jason, I've read the Sparknotes."

"Hi Jason, I'm Danny, pleasure to meet you, summarise Hamlet in three sentences or less."

"Am I auditioning to help you write your essays? I can't believe you’ve gone through your whole school life without reading it, it’s good!"

"Hamlet, along with a number of other classics, was banned in our house because it portrayed ghosts as intelligent and sympathetic beings rather than evil, animalistic beasts. I didn’t even get to see The Muppet's Christmas Carol until last year with Tim! It was surprisingly good, and I hate Christmas because everyone always argued and it sucked. But we're getting off topic. I—"

"No, no, please go back to that, because what the fu—"

"Boys, please." Bruce interrupts, looking to the world as if he wants to hang his head in his hands. "Danny, you were about to say something?"

"Oh, yeah, Mr. Wayne! Thanks!"

"Please, call me Bruce."

"Well, that very succinctly brings me to my point, because I'd actually really like to call you dad."

Nobody says a word. Nobody even blinks, all as shocked as the other, watching open-mouthed as Danny pulls his laptop out from beside his chair. Bruce can definitely feel a headache coming on.

"Before you say anything, I've prepared a 69 slide PowerPoint presentation on why you, Bruce Wayne, should adopt me, Danny Last-Name-Pending. Please save your questions, comments, and verdict until the end, thank you."

[bixels]

While I do think anon was rude, I do think it's pretty shitty to set up all this stuff you were going to add the au and then just drop it. It's disappointing. Definitely unfollowing.

Bye.

[thekittyokat]

you ever just have a lot, a LOT of feelings all at once about a character and not even remotely enough words or brainpower to FORM the words to describe everything you're feeling. so it feels like you may explode. yeah

[crescentfool]

having the hc that minato is ace is incredibly funny sometimes when you think about how ryoji is oh so very bi because it's like. "ah. death stole my ability to be attracted to people," in the same way that ryoji stole minato's eye color and energy level. like wow, thanks ryoji, you just keep finding things to steal from minato!

[obiwanobi]

AU (inspired by this amazing prompt) where the Force needs vessels to exist and each generation of Jedi has their Chosen One that they consider as a sort of deity with godlike powers to match their title. Order 66 is even more brutal than in canon and almost no Jedi survives, leaving Anakin as the last Chosen One, who knows he will disappear the second the very last Jedi forgets about him or dies.

Enter Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi, last ember of a dying age.

And if Anakin knows one thing, it's that he will do whatever he can to survive, even if it means making his last follower live eternally, or at least until a new Order is created with new followers.

He just never imagined that if Obi-Wan is devoted to the Force and to him, having such a personal and close relationship with only one worshipper also means that Anakin is devoted to him.

[fentennyson]

I think Sunny would look like Ben in a Gwen 10 AU

[pocketramblr]

am I mistaking you for someone else or are you the one who made Giran Kotaro's dad once?

Haha no yeah that was me, that's a fun au born of a typo but committing to the bit was worth it as it ends up meaning Giran raises his grandchildren and leads to the Todobeards plotline

[jundlcndwastes]

eron skywalker & juniper wolfhart for @hopegained