#the nature of any veterans au i suppose

[bcolfanfic]

this paints a strong picture of what every conversation i have with @swifty-fox is like LMFAO

[singswan-springswan]

Chenford AU where Lucy is Tim's guardian angel

Didn't expect this to turn into a full-blown fic. it was supposed to be an imagine oop. please enjoy I spent too much time on this

words: 5590

rating: teen and up

warnings: bullet-related injuries, allusions to suicide, substance abuse, and abusive parents, also a building blows up

summary: Lucy is assigned to guard Tim. Unlike most mortals, he's aware of her presence, and they become friends as a result. Detailing their relationship through the years

@accidental-spice

~

Lucy is assigned to him the moment his soul blips into existence. She's a veteran guardian at this point, has helped plenty of humans through life from start to finish. The first few fleeting months are simply protecting his mom while she helps him grow, just until he's old enough to breathe on his own. Normally, this stage would be very peaceful and warm, but Tim's mom has a few life troubles of her own to sort through, and Lucy works closely with the woman's guardian to make sure Tim isn't harmed before he's born.

He's a screamer. He's a very serious baby, very judgy, very spirited. Lucy can tell she's in for quite the ride with this one.

It's completely routine at first. Children are a handful, and Tim is by no means an exception. He's not remarkably special, of course. There's tenuous strain in his family, but it's nothing Lucy hasn't seen before, and certainly nothing she can't handle. He gets himself into harmless trouble often. He's bright. He's curious. He's a kid. Lucy dotes on him because his parents don't, and she doesn't care that he won't feel any of it.

But suddenly Tim is special. He's three when it happens. He's inspired to spill some secret, and marches to his mother who's working in the kitchen, proudly announcing that he's got someone for her to meet. Lucy drifts beside him as he says it. She's formless. Invisible. Intangible. Nonetheless, Tim grabs her by the hand and calls her his "friend". It's never happened before. His mother smiles kindly. She looks right through Lucy and says it's a pleasure. Tim beams.

It's not a one-off occurrence. Tim knows she's there. It's a strange thing, and when she asks other guardians, most just grin. They say it will either make her job easier, or difficult ten-fold. (it turns out to be the latter of them, naturally). Tim knows she's there.

He hugs her back when he's scared, even if he can't touch her. She's the one he asks for when he's woken from a nightmare. He can feel her presence. If it didn't make him a reckless little freak, Lucy might almost find it fun.

But it's nothing serious, as far as she can tell, and it doesn't hamper her ability to perform. She stays with her mortal through everything; she's there for all of it. His first screams, his first hours of restless sleep, for every dangerous toy left in the cradle at night, and every wobbly arm that didn't hold his head just right. She was there for his first steps, holding his hands when his mother let go. She was there for his first words, his first laugh, his first meal of solid food. She was there for his first day of school, and his first adorable little crush, and his first letters handwritten with the help of a pencil gripper and the teacher's gentle hand. She was there for every skinned knee, every monkey bar blister, every fight, every trembling lip, every spilt juice box. She was there every time his father came home. She protected Tim through all of it.

She saw him through poor test grades, annoying younger siblings, summertime adventures, and bad family reunions. She saw him through the nightmare of secondary school, along with all its awkwardness and hormonal imbalances and voice cracks and social anxiety. She became his friend. He'd talk to her sometimes, ask for advice, or wonder if she was proud. Lucy couldn't talk back, but she could convey her sentiments, and that was enough for him.

There were plenty of things to protect Tim from. His dad was a big one, but they found out good ways to deal with it. and Lucy was an angel. she could redirect the angry man often enough without breaking a sweat, avoiding confrontation in the first place. Tim was too young to have to face that yet. Then there were cruel friends (and enemies) at school, teachers with an axe to grind and little help to offer. Lucy couldn't read aloud to him, but she found him someone who would, and his grades improved. She was there for the football tryouts of course. Those were a busy few days.

Tim happened to love a sport that got aggressive at his age. There was lots of pushing, and tripping, and a few nasty tail-spin take-downs that kept Lucy on high alert out there. Luckily, he had a good arm. Quarterbacks weren't roughed up too bad all the time. He told her he wanted to be a lineman, and she was grateful to the coach for deciding against it. She laughed at him the night after cuts. He was pouting.

At least he had a good outlet. He was under plenty of stress as a teenager. There were tough classes, and tough parents, and tough choices to make about the future. Lucy guided him as best she could, but he still grew hard a bit on the inside. it came without saying in this broken world, and an abusive father only sped the process along. Tim built up his walls against reality, because he was soft deep down and Lucy couldn't shelter him; that wasn't her job.

He really tested her sometimes. It was his signature thing. the Tim-tests. She found it endearing, mostly, but sometimes he went way overboard and got himself in a mess. Lucy would warn him, or stop him once, but he couldn't rely on her to be his conscious. He had to understand the consequences that came with stupid decisions. There was so much trust for her in him. But eventually he did start being responsible. It didn't take too long.

Until then Lucy stepped into bad situations with increasing exasperation. There was a beach party and a cliff jump just a little too high for human bones on impact. There was a football banquet where he drank and almost drowned in the pool. Then there was Gwen Kelsey and the back of her blue pick-up truck (and the bad news between her legs). If Lucy never had to perform a literal miracle to save Tim from genital warts again, it would be too soon.

To be clear, Lucy would never begrudge Tim's nature to seek danger out, but she could disapprove of his intentions. Intentionally putting himself in risky situations just because he trusted her to save his arse was not appreciated. Joining the military, on the other hand, was acceptable. Lucy didn't like war. The war of man had no glory.

But Tim had few prospects, and he would more easily survive on the front line than staying home. There were simply more bullets to deflect.

His time in the army was a sobering thing. it made him more jaded. Not optimal, but Lucy was an angel, and didn't shy away from human heartache. There were plenty of nightmares. Lucy did her best to soothe them away, along with the guilt and fear that came as a survivor. Tim allowed himself to be vulnerable with her. He didn't cry much anymore, but he let the emotion show when she was there. He asked her how to carry on. Lucy would wrap him in a hug, and he'd relax. He'd be comforted.

The tours came to an end when some manic demon guided a bullet through the minute gap in his body armor. From the angle of the shooter, it should never have landed like that, but it didn't really matter. Tim took the fall. Lucy fought the monster off. She redirected the bullet again, saving his lungs and heart. The doctor told him it was a miracle. He let out a broken laugh.

After military service, Tim needed to keep up the action, and decided to join the police. He took to it swimmingly, passionately, naturally, and it pleased Lucy to see. Tim was a kind man: a real softie, deep down. He wasn't on the force because he was good at barking orders and getting physical; he'd joined because he genuinely cared, and it was only easy because of his skills. For the first time in years, he'd found his place, and he could settle.

He made friends, he worked hard, he was determined to be of service. Isabel was the icing on the cake. They were a total delight to one another, and Lucy was often entertained by their synergy. The two were so alike. They made a good match.

Tim talked about her often when he was alone with Lucy. He wasn't one to gush, but Lucy had known him all his life, and she knew that Isabel was something special to him. Isabel was a bright future. Isabel was family that wouldn't hurt him, for a change. Isabel gave Tim so much hope and vibrance, brought so much light to his life. He wanted it to go on forever, he said. He said he was going to marry her.

And for years after the fact, the happiness lasted. Tim had found a good normal for himself. He and Isabel swore to be lifelong partners before a crowd of people they loved, and the celebration was delightful, excepting the few dark moments where demons plucked at Tom's shirt and he made Isabel cry. Lucy intervened quietly, despite it being outside her job description. Ruined weddings were despicable to her.

Life carried on with honeymoon ease. Tim was still his tough, commanding self, but his heart had a levity that made him glow. There were still tragedies every day on the job, but they weren't personal, and he performed well. He was helping people. He was happy.

But being a guardian couldn't mean basking in the good times. Lucy had to remain vigilant, regardless of how good a place everyone seemed to be in. The fairytale started to crumble after a few years, and Lucy knew right away because she was an angel and could see things that humans couldn't.

Isabel was on an op for weeks. The long stints took their toll on Tim, but he was strong, and he had Lucy to help him through the anxious nights. It was supposed to work out. They were supposed to work it out. But when Isabel finally came home, there were traces of rot in her veins. She needed help. She needed it now.

But Tim had fallen in love with his newfound happily ever after, and any threat to that was too awful to entertain. He ignored the hints Isabel dropped him. He tried to pretend like everything was fine. He even ignored Lucy's warnings, despite her insistence. As a result, Isabel slipped away.

The fallout was messy. It wrecked Tim. He tried too late to salvage the pieces of his ruined wife, after doing wrong by her, covering for her, lying to himself. In the end, most of the happiness he found after coming home from war was smashed to bits, leaving him worse off than ever and half as confident, twice as ruthless, retreating behind stone walls. Lucy did her best to save him from disaster, but she could only provide so much comfort without a physical voice and arms to hold him.

It was worse, having experienced a good life and losing it wholly, than never knowing it at all. When Isabel left, that was the last straw. Tim gave up. He locked his soft, kind heart away behind his many walls and focused on staying alive, going through the motions. Saving face. He pushed his friends away, daring to be vulnerable exclusively with Lucy, but even those vital moments dwindled as his light dimmed.

It was a dire situation, to be honest. A mortal that lost hope was a wretched, dangerous creature, and the longer this went on, the greater the surety stood that Tim would never be himself again. He'd never feel compassion, never be kind. He'd waste himself on sorrow and fear if Lucy didn't do something.

Luckily, he was a training officer.

Lucy devised a plan to show him the seriousness of his status. It was a severe strategy, only used by guardians in times of critical need. Clearly Tim was in need, and Lucy was obligated to help him. So she went to the academy and took on human form. She picked a name that mortals could pronounce. It wasn't her first act walking the earth. it still felt intense. She was accustomed to watching from the sidelines, but she was created with a gift of empathy, and fitting in was no trouble.

Six months and a few divine interventions later, she landed in the front row of the bullpen at mid-wilshire police station. When the Sergeant called Tim's name, he pointed at her.

At first, it was a shock to see him. He'd gotten worse. So much worse. He'd lost weight, lost sleep, lost any lingering trace of light in his eyes. There was a heavy weight in his gaze and the way he moved. One that hadn't been there six months ago. What changed? At the very least, he'd been stable. There'd been no reason for him to slip further down the dark hole Lucy pledged to haul him out of. Now, he was dangerously close to losing himself.

She didn't expect him to recognize her in that state. He didn't.

Any warmth he'd once possessed was frozen over by the time they started their first shift together. It felt wrong, and now that Lucy could feel physical things her stomach was a sinking knot. Tim was unsteady. Tim was not himself, walled off and detached. He cared a lot about people and it was grating at him to be like this, deep down, but Lucy had to work with what he gave her. She wasn’t going to pull any punches.

He was merciless the first few days. Unapologetic, vicious, blunt and rude. He snapped back at everything she said, bossed her around, belittled her. If Lucy really was who she said, she’d probably be hurt and greatly taken aback, but she knew Tim. He was in so much pain, and it was clear to her. The other rookies didn’t seem to think so, and their concern was touching. But Lucy saw the way the other officers looked at her, like she was either a dead woman walking or a poor soul in for the most horrible year of her life. Angela and Talia were so worried. They told her to look out for herself, leaving the “because he won’t” unsaid. Lucy appreciated them. Even if they misplaced the roles.

When Tim got shot, Lucy was not afraid. He’d been through worse, and this time she was there to hold his blood in. Her execution would make him proud if she were any rookie of the past. She directed Lopez to the two downed suspects, whipped her gloves on, and held Tim for the first time. He still tried to give her orders. Something angry and defensive. He looked terrible but he’d be okay. She made sure the bullet missed his important parts. Just like old times. A different doctor said the same thing: it was a miracle. Lucy wasn’t in the room when the news hit, but she could feel Tim crying all the same.

The weeks it took him to heal were precarious. It was dangerous to leave him alone, but part of the gamble to assume human likeness was that she had consistent responsibilities, and they  were distinct from Tim’s life. She still made sure to check on him regularly, and she was there when he was discharged. He despised her by the end of it. He felt patronized, and pitied, despite Lucy’s insistence. Always a stubborn man. Her words meant a lot less in the mouth of a mortal, even if they were clearer now than anything she’d said to him before.

Whatever else came from her efforts before he was cleared, he gained a modicum of respect for her. She could be just as persistent as him if she wanted, and he’d known that seven months ago. They were starting from scratch now. It was going to be rough.

Eventually, the Tim-tests came back. It felt like a breath of fresh air. While Tim was no less cut-throat and no more entertained than before, Lucy counted the violent slamming on brakes and demand for a location as a victory. He was getting a very important part of himself back, clawing, taking it by force. It hurt a lot, but the progress mattered so much. Lucy was happy to play along. Sure, she could read his mind, anticipate the nature of each test and answer him correctly every time, but the man needed to feel himself being productive. Even if that meant ruthlessly pummeling her for the sake of a lesson learned. She could take the heat.

Things after that became less bad, for lack of a better term. Tim leveled out well enough, to the point that Lucy trusted him to be alone with himself. There was little in life for him to enjoy at the moment, but she sensed that he at least found respite in the day spent with her, fighting crime, stopping tragedy, being human. He hated to talk to her, loathed her enjoyment in the act. He wanted to be alone. He closed himself off time and time again, even if a clever enough detective might connect the dots from all the friendly seconds she extorted from him, there was little substance she could glean unless she pushed him hard—which always involved a tough fallout.

There was one bad day she pushed it. The day was still young, and their calls had been mild. Tim hadn’t slept well. He looked like a wreck, even if he didn’t let it affect his performance. Lucy started talking. He liked her voice, she could tell, despite his claims of finding it annoying. She talked about psychology, which he hated, and she pushed him, and he hated that too. She pushed, and she pushed, and she asked him so many questions. Eventually he snapped, tired and defeated and white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel, right foot near through the floor of the shop. The vehicle lurched roughly, and Tim worked his jaw. He looked so angry, and so sad, and so tired. His eyes were very tired. “Look,” he forced out around the thickness in his throat. “I just lost someone very close to me. I’m not in the mood to answer prying questions.”

Lucy could have swooped in with even more psychology. She could have cited a hundred various grieving tactics, ranging from self-destructive to completely healing, based both on psychological case studies and personal testament. She might have, under other circumstances. But this was Tim. She knew everything about his life, and taking on human form hadn’t changed that. She knew everyone he cared about, everyone close to him, and no one matched his claim. Isabel had been gone for over a year. His grief for her was nothing fresh. Not like this. And Lucy could tell that he was truthful in his statement because she was an angel and knew her way around his sentiments, his surface level thoughts. This was real, and she couldn’t think of anyone he might love enough to mourn with this much devastation.

After a long, sober moment not knowing what to say, Lucy folded her hands neatly and projected calm into the cabin. It wasn’t the same coming from a human body, but she was still an angel and it worked well enough. Just enough to form a truce with Tim. “What was this person like?”

Tim wrestled with an answer, paging a few harsh comments through consideration before giving up. A muscle in his jaw twitched. “She didn’t talk as much as you.” He said, and his voice was soft when he did.

It took Tim a while to stop resenting her, to stop taking out his frustrations on her. It took him a while, and a few verbal reprimands from his friends at the precinct before his torture of her ended. Apparently he was harsh, but never this harsh with rookies. Even the sergeant asked Lucy if she wanted a new TO. She wouldn’t hear of it. Tim was her charge, and she wanted to help him as long as she could. He was hurting a lot, but he was salvageable. He was still good. Despite the pain he was going through, he chose to not give in at the start of every day, chose to consistently do the right thing, to serve people in need. His execution was flawed but very redeemable. And it was working out slowly but surely.

Tim warmed up to Lucy in his own way. The process was painfully gradual, even for a being who’d lived innumerable years within the constraints of time. Lucy was a creature of patience, but Tim was dragging it out. It took him weeks to stop actively hating her. She bought him hot wings to commemorate the occasion, ditched them on his doorstep the night his team was playing—which he didn’t watch with the same enthusiasm anymore, but still appreciated.

From there, they graduated to relying on one another during calls. Lucy had his respect, she knew, and she’d solidly proven herself a capable officer, but it was different for Tim to trust her with his life. It was nostalgic for both of them, except Tim was being bittersweet about it. 

He started caring again, just a little bit at first, because jumping back in would exhaust him outright. It started with just covering her, making sure she didn’t die. Then he acknowledged her discretion. He listened when she spoke, didn’t just tune her out. He was more resigned than he’d ever been all his life, but he was coming to realize that life continued whether he was there for it or not, and peace was weaseling its way into his mind.

It was months on the job before Lucy saw him smile again. He’d pranked her with a surprise Tim-test, tucked away in a trash can in the middle of a park. The whole situation had thrown her off guard because he’d actually been enjoying himself. Baby powder exploded in her face. Tim was there to enshrine the moment in his memory. Through the blur, he lectured her about bombs and radio waves, and both corners of his mouth were slanted up. He shone softly with satisfaction. Victory.

Their relationship developed slowly but surely. They respected each other, they trusted each other, and they eventually grew to like each other. The haunted looks of the other TOs and all of Tim’s friends turned relieved, grateful. Angela pulled Lucy aside one day and thanked her sincerely. “We were worried about him. He never told us what happened. Look, whatever you’re doing, keep doing it.” Tim never told Lucy either. She was just happy to see him back on his feet. He still carried an enormous grief with him: one he’d likely never shed as long as he lived, but he was so strong. He would be okay.

Lucy was there when Isabel got caught. Isabel had ruined herself, and it ruined Tim too. It hurt a lot to go through again, for both of them. At least Lucy could hold him now, place a steady hand on his shoulder and say a few fortifying words. It helped a lot more this time around. Isabel was caught, deep in trouble, desperate to cut a deal that almost cost what remained of her life. Tim leaned on Lucy then, unknowingly. Isabel went away for her health, divorced Tim and made it final. It was rough. At least it was closure. Tim grieved the loss of his best life as well as he knew how, and it was far from easy for anyone involved. Lucy didn’t shy away. She could hold him now and she did, as far as he’d let her.

They became tentative friends, on Tim’s part, because Lucy wanted to regain what they’d had all his life, and he remained wary—understandably so. He was going through a lot. She knew that. She wasn’t pushing. But now they could share light conversation without any sour emotion to discolor the atmosphere. They could crack jokes, share gifts, perform favors. Tim was fighting through the pain to get himself back. His fire was a thing of beauty. He made Lucy laugh sometimes, and always stopped to stare a little. She caught him once with a sad, longing half smile. “What is it?” She asked, still grinning. He looked away quickly. Swiped at his eyes. “Nothing. You just remind me of someone I knew.”

By the time Caleb came into the picture, they were solid partners, on good terms. They went out with friends, shared trade secrets, and Tim was getting used to being comfortable with her. Being kind to her. Empathetic. Compassionate. Old traits he’d had a long time ago. He apologized for the awful first few months of her training. She just shook her head and grinned. She knew. She told him she knew, she understood, she’d forgiven him completely. Then Rosalind Dyer kicked up a fuss, and Caleb lost luck on a victim, which meant he was desperate. It went outside of Lucy’s job description to use herself like this but she could help lots of people by getting Caleb convicted. Before she called him, invited him out for a fateful few drinks, she pulled Tim aside. He was doing well. She didn’t want this event to throw him through the ringer again.

“I know you have my back.” She told him. “I trust you. Whatever happens with this case will not be your fault.” He’d been confused, and worried to hear that, and he was near hysterical when he pulled her from the barrel with bloody hands, split skin from clawing at the dirt in raw desperation. She was an angel, not a human. Asphyxiation couldn’t hurt her when she didn’t need to breathe. The drugs hadn’t really done a thing in her drinks except make them taste like crap, so she faked the snooze and made Caleb haul her (fake) snoring dead weight from the bar to his car trunk. The whole fiasco would be amusing if Tim hadn’t gone so crazy because of it. He squeezed her with a hug, holding so tight and shaking while Lucy narced on his three broken nails. His laugh was wet and broken. Caleb lived. He stood trial. He was sentenced to die.

Tim and Lucy were so tight after that. Everyone was suspicious of her incredible rebound, but she’d dealt with much worse in past assignments as a guardian—not that she could tell anyone that much. Tim forgot himself in his desire to help her. It was an incredible leap of progress, so close to where he started. He was so kind, and so thoughtful, and he went out of his way to make her smile because he hated that she thought to do it for him first. He didn’t need restitution after she went through what she did. He was selfless. Lucy, in turn, rebuked any of his lingering guilt and shame.

There were times when he forgot the nature of their professional relationship. He treated them like partners, as though they operated on the same level of authority. And even though his nagging and stubbornness and Tim-tests never once saw slack, Lucy was totally pleased to carry on like this. Taking on the world together. Performing miracles. Doing wonders of good. It was a beautiful arrangement that took them past the dynamic between a rookie and her TO. Lucy knew he saw her differently, cared about her differently, worried about her differently. He was protective in a different way, and not because of guilt or shame. Or because he felt responsible for her. She could attest the same things too. Tim had been special since he was three years old. She’d do anything to protect him.

There was one call that tested her mettle. It changed them. The fire started small in the big apartment building. They were the first to respond, and the building was mostly empty in the half minute it took them to arrive. But there were people still inside. And they were charged with running in easily. They herded out the motile ones, carrying those injured by the building giving way. It was the last time they went in that the building sat down, slouching in and trapping them where they were. Just one person left. They were cornered in the hall with the kid tucked in Tim’s arms. There was no way out of the fire. All exits were blocked by rubble and branding hot rebars, and the fire grew still, reaching the gas line now. Tim was afraid of dying. The kid was afraid of dying, in spite of adamant reassurances. Tim crouched in the corner, rocked the crying child and gave Lucy a horrible look. He didn’t think he’d make it out alive, and maybe he wouldn’t. The thought was discouraging. He’d just gotten his crap back together. Lucy knelt beside him, determined, wrapped them both in her wings as the fire swelled. The explosion shook the building’s foundation soundly. They were near the ground, a lower level, so the windows burst out in the deafening roar of flame. It was a death sentence. A barbecue. But Lucy was a guardian, and her mandate was to protect. So she did. She was an angel; manipulating fire was something of second-nature. The heat ran white hot around them but Lucy didn’t see, just squeezed both eyes shut like Tim and pressed her forehead close like Tim. It took a long time for the flames to die down. No one rushed in to save them—which Lucy could understand. They should be dead. Everyone would be assuming them dead by now.

But Tim and the kid were fine, which was nothing short of a miracle. She let them breathe the stale air.

Tim’s confusion left him mute. Though that could have been the shock as well. He stared at her. Hard. Then the kid sat up and blinked at the fire, blinked at the collapsed building around them, blinked at Lucy and said “you’re an angel.” like it was obvious. It probably was.

They emerged from the ruined, blackened skeleton to behold awestruck faces. Superficial burns only. It was a miracle they said, and Tim buckled, and Lucy caught him by the arm while he fainted at those words. They were whisked away by medical responders immediately. So much chaos. There wasn’t time to spare between tests and discharge to see Tim. The next time they saw each other was back on duty, in front of everyone who wanted to see. Tim didn’t seem to care about the audience. He grabbed her hands and his knees gave way again.

“It’s you.” He breathed, strangled and agonized. “All this time, it was you. It’s you.” Lucy hauled him to his feet, told him not to kneel for her, though by now there were undisguised tears dripping steadily from his chin. He was trying to process, trying to find the words. “I wanted to be here.” She said, squeezing his hands. She tugged him down for a hug, finally wrapped her arms around his body in the way she’d needed to for years. “To give you this.” He folded himself into her embrace, trembling violently, squeezing her so hard and so tight she couldn’t inflate her lungs at all, like he was afraid she’d vanish from the physical world at any given moment.

“You left.” He whispered, at a level their onlookers wouldn’t pick up. “Without warning. I lost you.” The accusation was biteless, but it gave Lucy chills anyway. She’d come to Earth without warning, without saying a word to him about her plan. Six months was but a breath for ageless angels, but for Tim who’d never lived a day without feeling her presence, to wake up one day completely alone for the first time ever, it must have been horrifying. Had he felt abandoned? Lost? So soon after Isabel left, how many frightening lonely nights had he spent waiting and waiting for her to reappear? Had he called for her? Had she broken his heart? It was such a fragile thing, and he’d built so many walls to protect it but Lucy had the keys to them all.

“You weren’t there.” He cried. “You weren’t there to fill the gaps or hear me cry or say I’d crossed a line—you were just gone.” His flowing tears turned to broken sobs, right there in the middle of the precinct, but Lucy didn’t care. She just held him and held him and held him back just as tight and maybe shed a few human tears of her own.

“I missed you like I’ve never missed anything.” Tim said.

Lucy tightened her grip. What else was there to do? It was exactly what she’d come to do, and her absence was a thing of the past now. She could explain everything when there was time to speak, with real words, like she’d never spoken to Tim before. Now they were a team. They could fix this heartbreak together. “I’ll never leave you again.”

“Don’t.” His chest was full of rubble. “Please don’t.”

[bigskydreaming]

Okay, so you know “Justice League meets Batman’s kids, who they’d previously been unaware existed” AUs?

So picture that.....but this time, instead of them just having no knowledge of any of these other Gotham vigilantes at all....the Batkids all migrate to various cities as they get older and become known as their protectors - Dick in Bludhaven, Tim in San Francisco, Cass in Hong Kong, etc....

Meaning they’re all established figures, the Justice League are aware of them as solo local heroes who stick to their cities and so they just don’t interact with them much if at all, or else some are members of team lineups but are particularly vague about their histories or life outside of the team’s adventures....

So the big reveal isn’t that they become aware of all these other Gotham vigilantes all at once....its that some big conflict or whatever requires a huge team up of all available heroes, and in the aftermath, they figure out that like.....despite being known as solo heroes who work alone or loners outside of their team settings, 80% of these heroes all not only seem to already know each other, they seem to be related.

And so naturally they all turn to Batman, who has profiles on every known hero and they thus figure had researched these individuals too and just never mentioned this little detail, and they’re like, “Did you know about this?”

And then Nightwing turns to him too, arms crossed and is like, “Yeah Dad, did you know about this?”

And the infamous Red Hood is all: “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I have never met any of these people before in my life. Lives? Whatever.”

And then Red Robin moodily grates out “I have no siblings.” Since he’s nursing a grudge since Dick and Jason broke into his apartment the night before and replaced all his custom Red Robin gear with Darkwing Duck merchandise and his vengeance will be swift and also totally disproportionate because things escalate quickly in this family, that’s true in every universe.

Cass meanwhile has deftly skewered Jason’s lie by walking over to him and brazenly patting down the man with many many guns with no fear whatsoever. He squawks and futilely attempts to bat her hands away as she riffles through his many pockets, but he doesn’t seem shocked, just annoyed. Eventually, she pulls away and triumphantly reveals a box of Hello Kitty themed band-aids.

“So these are yours then? Just for you?” Black Bat asks smugly. Red Hood squints at the box.

“What the fuck? How long have those been in my jacket? Why are those in my jacket? Did you freaking plant them in my jacket just on the offchance you could at some point in the distant future use them at my expense?”

Black Bat frowns, puzzled. “Yes?”

“Oh come on, Dead Hood,” Spoiler says with an exaggerated toss of her head meant to convey she’s rolling her eyes beneath her own mask. She skips her way across the room to Black Bat and then drapes herself languidly all over the smaller woman. Who in turn doesn’t so much as twitch beneath the sudden added mass as Spoiler holds out her hand towards the box of band-aids. 

“One please. I have a boo-boo,” she says with easy familiarity straight into the intimidating cowl of Black Bat. Only then does she deign to finish her train of thought with Red Hood.

“I mean seriously, are you saying you don’t have potential blackmail set-ups, pre-rigged releases of incriminating material, and a random assortment of traps, pratfalls and mortifying scenarios in place for the express purpose of being able to humiliate any and all of your siblings at any given moment, without any need for additional prep time?”

“Is this true, Little Wing?” Nightwing whirls on the larger Red Hood with a faux-scandalized gasp. The founder and leader of the Titans, formerly the Teen Titans, renowned for his stratagems and calm competence when directing squads of supers in the heat of battle while he keeps pace with nothing more than naturally acquired acrobatics and a utility belt that apparently uses the same technology as Wonder Woman’s invisible jet....now appears to be....staggering with the back of his hand pressed to his forehead, moaning about how he felt....faint? 

What is happening right now, several dozen superheroes want to know. Is this a drill? Are they supposed to be checking for signs of a mental ambush from undetected psychic saboteurs? Did they all hit their heads at the exact same time and are now experiencing some kind of shared mass concussion?

Look, that wouldn’t be the weirdest thing to ever happen on the Watchtower. 

“Have I failed you so utterly?” The veteran child hero bemoans with a dramatic twirl - that when contrasted with his stern demeanor of a mere ten minutes ago - makes the fears of telepathic infiltration seem less paranoia and more....concerningly probable. “Did you learn nothing from me? Did you learn nothing from B?”

He stops and jabs a finger up at the sky. “Quick, everyone! What is the very first rule of Living While Batty?”

As if by rote, over a half a dozen voices chime in from all over the room, causing various heroes to jump. Spooked by yet more and more vigilantes joining in some kind of mass recitation like they and they alone have some kind of clue what the hell is going on and everyone else just hadn’t been invited to the party. Which is just rude, honestly. Nobody likes feeling like they weren’t invited to the party. Not even superheroes. 

“If you’re not going to bother preparing for every possible contingency and at least six impossible ones, you might as well just stay in bed.”

Even the Red Hood joins in the Illuminati chant or Cub Scout pledge or demonic ritual or whatever the fuck that just was, though his slumped and exasperated posture gives away every hint of sulkiness his headgear otherwise would have kept safely hidden. He’s surprisingly more...expressive, than most who’d only known of him by reputation had expected him to be. The day continues to yield surprises.

“Of fucking course I do,” he growls out, snatching the box from Black Bat. She doesn’t even fight to hold onto it, just lets it go with a knowing smirk. “I wasn’t surprised by the idea of it, I was just surprised she bothered with such a weak effort. Like yeah whatever, actually those could be mine. I use those all the time at home. So what?”

He aggressively yanks one of the band-aids out of the box, fumbles with the peel-off strips with one hand and he roughly rolls up the sleeve of his jacket with the other. Then just slaps it on his forearm and raises said appendage high, showing it off this way and that. “See?”

“Oh yeah, for sure,” Signal drawls from the other side of the room, nodding his head approvingly. “Totally convincing. Nice job walking that one back, you really showed them.”

Red Hood’s head snaps in his direction with ominous intent. “Watch it, Day-Glo.”

Signal just snorts.

“Yeah, like I’m gonna take constructive criticism on my name and costume from a dude who’s spent the last several years calling himself Red HOOD while running around in a freaking HELMET.”

“Its not meant to be literal, you fucking pedant.”

“So wait, its not literally a helmet? Huh, does it at least protect your head literally, or just like...symbolically? Like if Bane were to clock you across the head, would your concussion just be a metaphor? What’s the treatment protocol for a metaphorical concussion? Fluids, bedrest and a philosophical prescription of two chapters of Chicken Soup for the Soul as needed?”

“Laugh it up, KC and the Sunshine Band,” Red Hood bats back. “You just got yourself disinvited from Thursday night’s poker game.”

Signal just grins and folds his arms over his chest cockily. “Please. You’ve been looking for an excuse to ban me for weeks, cuz you know until you can prove I’m using my ghost vision to cheat, you can’t actually bring suit against me for it in Family Court.”

“That, and also Family Court isn’t a real thing, you toddler. Stop validating Wing-a-ding-ding’s obsession with Shitty TV Nostalgia and just call it that thing where Oracle traps us all in a room until we settle our latest fight without anyone getting stabbed.”

“Yeah, but like, say that five times fast,” Spoiler pipes up. “Its just not practical. Family Court’s way easier.”

“Says the one who’s not even in our fucking family.”

“And yet I grace you all with my sublime presence anyway,” she blows a kiss at him, beatifically unbothered. “You’re welcome.”

The Red Hood scoffs and rounds on his heel, zeroing in on Batwoman in the far corner.

“Hey Auntie B, my siblings are all dead to me and I just helped stop an alien invasion so I deserve nice things like a fun Saturday night. Can you get me into Dad’s fundraiser so I can crash it? He won’t put me back on the list until I promise not to bring any C-4 with me and I won’t promise not to bring any C-4 because he should just trust me that I won’t when I say I’m not gonna and he won’t trust me that I won’t until I admit I shouldn’t have brought any to that sting last month where three tiny little yachts blew up through barely any fault of my own, and I’m just not gonna do that ever because I have convictions and I feel I shouldn’t have to be punished for that. Y’know?”

Batwoman blinks at him. “Kid, I’m not gonna lie to you. You’re my nephew and I love you, but I stopped listening three seconds into all that.”

“Ugh, fine. Can you help me crash Dad’s event tonight so I can teach him a lesson about why he should just trust me not to make a scene so I don’t have to always make a scene to make a point.”

“Tempting as you make that sound,” she says wryly, “I have a strict policy for dealing with you lot and your......everything. I only worry about tolerating one of you at a time, and there’s seven of you, and seven days in the week. You each get your own. You know perfectly well its Robin’s day today. You get me on Tuesday, just like always.”

“Auntie B, we’re not like other families, are we?” Red Robin’s delivery is sarcastically childish and his question clearly rhetorical. Most of his attention is fixated on whatever it is he’s doing with his wrist-mounted computer. 

“No sweetie, we’re all severely fucked in the head and a little bit too comfortable with that.”

“Just checking. Oh hey, Hood, I just emailed you a patch for the hole in your firewall I exploited when replacing all my shit using your accounts just now.”

“You did what?”

“Used your accounts to pay to replace all my stuff that you fucked with last night?” Red Robin says slowly. “Did you not realize that I’ve been sticking within ten feet of you for the past five minutes just so I could clone your devices and do all that while BB and Spoiler kept you distracted? I gotta say, bro, I feel like that’s on you then.”

Red Hood swivels his helmeted head in the direction of the aforementioned two. Black Bat waves. Spoiler shoots him an utterly unrepentant thumbs up.

“You’d side with your ex over me? That’s what its come to?”

“My only allegiance is to chaos,” Spoiler says brightly. Black Bat shrugs.

“Plus he bribes better.”

“Hateful,” Red Hood points at Black Bat, moving on to level the same finger at Spoiler, who curtsies in acknowledgment: “Hateful-er.”

Then the finger rounds the bases to aim judgmentally at Red Robin. “Hateful-est. And that was all Nightwing’s idea anyway, not mine.”

“Oh, I assumed as much,” he says casually. “Your idea of a prank tends to have more of a Carrie vibe. Or be a literal literary reenactment.”

“Its called an homage, 4chan.”

“Whatever, plagiarist. And anyway, I couldn’t go after ‘Wing for payback on this one. He used an Immunity card. If you didn’t want me getting back at you, you should have used one too."

Red Hood looms aggressively. Red Robin ignores willfully. Round and round they go. Superheroes who can survive excessive G-Forces are getting dizzy just watching them have a largely motionless stand-off. That shouldn’t be how that works, but whatever. All the most infamously reclusive and isolated heroes in all hero-dom are apparently part of the same one big reclusive and isolated family of fucked up weirdos and they’re all officially bonkers. Nothing makes sense anymore. Reality broke. Try another stall.

“Okay, but see, in order to have an Immunity card, I would have to participate in one of you losers’ stupid Immunity challenges,” the Red Hood drags out with exaggerated patience. “And I’m just not going to do that, on account of those all being fucking stupid. You see the problem there?”

Red Robin just shrugs. “I don’t know what to tell you, bro. You can have principles or you can have an Immunity card. You can’t have both.”

Meanwhile, on another side of....the same room.....look, its like, an octagonal room, probably. It has a lot of sides. Robin fends off questions from an aggrieved looking Superboy.

“You never told me you had a bajillion brothers and sisters!”

“Yes but I never said I didn’t either.”

Superboy rolls his eyes. “Oh yeah, so I should just assume everyone I meet has a bajillion secret brothers and sisters?”

“Well clearly it would have worked out in your favor in this instance if you had, now wouldn’t it?”

“Assuming of course that you can trust what has been said or implied here today and I am actually related to any of those numbskulls. Which I am not actually admitting to,” Robin tacks on hastily.

Superboy eyes him dubiously. “You joined in the same creepy chant all the others did and then got super self-conscious and looked around to see if anyone had noticed. Which uh. I did.”

“First off, your interpretation of body language is abyssmal. I do not get self-conscious,” Robin says with a delivery that probably could have benefited from being a little less self-conscious. “And second....that proves nothing. I guessed what they were going to say.”

“Word for word,” Superboy says super-skeptically.

“I’m very good at guessing things. You know this.”

“Okay. Guess how much I believe you right now then.”

Robin glares and folds his arms grumpily across his chest. 

“And what was that anyway? Was that like....you guys’ family motto or something like that?”

“Oh no,” Spoiler pipes up. “That’s much shorter.”

Superboy balks at that. “Wait, you guys actually have one of those for real?”

“Yup,” Steph says, counting out the words with her fingers. “He who laughs last....probably works for the Joker. So tranq him just to be safe. See? Only sixteen words. The first rule of Living While Batty is way longer, and what we said was just the abridged version. You should hear the original, before Black Bat put her foot down and refused to memorize it unless sizable edits were made.”

Superboy hovers between her and Robin now, both in mid-air and on the verge of taking Spoiler’s words as an invitation to hear just that. A low growl arises from Robin’s direction.

“Must you?” He asks the older vigilante, with a most put upon expression.

She looks at him pityingly. “Do you actually need me to answer that? Like, we’ve met, right? Hi, I’m Spoiler.”

“Wait, so Robin said that I just never specifically asked him if he had a bajillion brothers and sisters, and that’s why he didn’t tell me, so that means he wouldn’t have just lied and there’s not some code of secrecy that flat out forbids telling other people stuff, right?” Superboy realizes excitedly.

“Yes, excellent direction. Go on,” Spoiler says, steepling her fingers. Robin buries his face in the palm of one hand.

“Soooo, what other stuff could you tell me about Robin’s super top secret family that I wouldn’t think to ask about but that he would tell me about if I knew what questions to ask?”

She claps once, lightly but with emphasis. “Well done. You’ve passed the first barrier. Untold secrets await you behind just a few more.”

“I’ll get you for this,” Robin vows calmly. She waves a hand at him.

“Yeah, yeah. Just make sure you do it before January 1st, remember? You’ve promised retribution like ten times already this year and those don’t roll over, y’know. Rules are rules.”

“Enough!” Thunders a voice then, from the front of the room. Well one of the fronts anyway. Like sides, it has a lot of them, but this is the one where Batman’s standing. All eyes snap to him. Which is kinda just what eyes do when Batman says stuff like that. Its like his superpower, except he doesn’t actually have superpowers, which is what makes it scary. But where the snapping of the eyes (directional) is usually followed by Batman saying something else besides just “hey look at me,” here he pauses in the wake of his own call to attention’s waning reverberations. Uncharacteristically silent.

Not that, y’know, he’s normally Mr. Talkity Talk, but usually his silences feel like he has the words to fill them, he’s just withholding them. This though, this feels more like he doesn’t have any words at all. And he’s as confused by it as any of them, and most everyone else is confused by Batman being confused, and its this whole trickle down economy of confusion and its wrecking havoc on the value of the golden silence standard.

Of course, not everyone present is rendered spellbound with confusion.

“C’mon B,” Nightwing cajoles, leaning forward and practically radiating delight. “I think you know what you have to do now. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity. Its not likely to come around again.”

Red Hood snickers beneath his helmet and chimes in. “Yeah Pops, go ahead. You do this and you’ll actually have my respect for a whole twenty four hours. No, wait. Sixteen. No! Eight. Yeah, eight. Still a good deal.”

“Carpe diem, B,” Red Robin grins, leaning back as if to enjoy the show.

“Hey! Infringe on my trademark one more time, dude,” Signal throws a faux-glare at the former. Red Robin just quirks an eyebrow.

“And what, you’ll start saying Yum every time you eat a burger? Oh no. I’m hoist by my own petard.”

Signal flips him off with a grin and then redirects his attention back to Batman. “Yeah seriously though B, you kinda gotta do it now. Because if you don’t do it, then you’ll forever be the guy who didn’t do it, and you don’t want to be that guy, do you?”

“Yeah you really don’t want to be that guy,” Spoiler shouts out. “Nobody likes that guy. He’s the worst.”

“Do it, do it,” Black Bat starts chanting beside her, steadily picking up speed and volume. Several others start joining in. Even Robin appears to be slightly anticipatory, albeit trying very hard to hide it.

Batman sighs, and somehow everyone manages to hear it. Stills. Waits for....something? Nobody but them seems to have any clue what, but the air is thick and heavy with portentiousness. Something is about to happen, and all most of the heroes present could say for sure is it was something they never would have in a million years seen coming.

Finally, Batman straightens with the resigned air of a man about to have oh so many regrets. He crosses his arms, shakes his head, and in an absolute deadpan monotone, says:

“You are awful children. You know you’re killing me. You’re killing your father.”

[shades-of-stony]

ABO Stony AUs!

Celestial Navigation by  sabrecmc

Summary:  18 year old Omega!Tony finds himself Bonded to Captain Steve Rogers. He isn't happy about it until he is.

Note: Does it need any explanation? This fic is an all time classic and favorite in the Stony fandom!

Object: Matrimony by BladeoftheNebula

Summary: Omega Tony Stark craves adventure and an escape from the life his parents have planned for him in New York. He places a listing in a marriage catalogue to seek a match with an alpha out West, and Sheriff Steve Rogers answers his advertisement. But finding a nice alpha doesn't mean it's all smooth sailing from there..

- A Mail Order Bride AU -

Note: A 10/10! This has all the splendid elements of ABO with an added twist of a West setting and time! 

 The Team Omega by AngeNoir for PhenomenalAsterisk

Summary:  Steve Rogers is thawed, stressed, and not quite sure what Director Fury wants with him. Giving him a unit of all alphas, even if most of them Steve had fought alongside when the alien menace had nearly wiped out the entire city of New York... The thing is, more than four alphas wouldn't work in a unit with one another, not for long. Everyone knew that. Steve knew that, intimately, with the Howling Commandos.

Which was why Director Fury had, apparently, assigned them an omega.

Frustrated at the inability to even choose his team, let alone choose the omega that was supposed to keep the peace between everyone, Steve storms back to his unit's assigned quarters. There, he meets Tony Stark, grandchild of Howard Stark, clearly unhappy with his position and just as clearly unwilling to break contract with the U.S. military complex. So why was someone like Anthony Stark here, in Steve's charge?

And how could Steve even act upon his genuine attraction, with the power imbalance clearly in place?

Note: I admit, this has one of the best takes on ABO I read in a while! It’s a good read!

 If You Love Me I'll Love You Too by Carsonian

Summary: Starrk hands Steven a knife, leatherbound and strong, to fulfill the rite. The Alpha must go first. Steven takes Anthony’s hand, slices a clean line across the palm.

“And in the sharing of blood, I am become yours.” Steven recites.

Anthony takes the knife and returns the favour.

“And in the sharing of blood,” He looks up, eyes dark and unfathomable, “I am become yours.”

Note: A well-written ABO Stony fanfic with a dash of arranged marriage and Middle Ages (though the time period wasn’t exactly specified). It takes on how Steve and Tony navigates through their forced marriage and how they learn to care for each other!

Tribute Given, Treasure Gained by sphagnum

Summary: “Steve,” the Captain said, hand over his chest.

Tony licked his lips. Was he supposed to give his name, or remain silent until he was asked a direct question? The Captain--Steve, apparently--already knew his name, he had to, it had been included on the settlement he and Stane had signed. Was this a test? Time was passing and Steve was still waiting with his hand on his chest but Tony had to figure out the right answer fast or when Steve moved he might--“

Tony,” he blurted.

“Tony,” Steve repeated. He hadn’t come any closer. He said something short that might have been pleased to meet you or you look good on your knees. Tony had no way of knowing and he wasn’t going to risk echoing it. He kept quiet. See, Howard? I do know how to shut up when my life depends on it.

Note: A nice ABO with Warlord!Steve! This is a great read, with the steamy smut on the end being a nice cherry on top!

While We Pretend to Sleep by Typo66

Summary:  Tony pretends to be an alpha. Then he forgets he had been pretending. One thing he remembers is Steve. Steve tries to help out in his old fashioned, ethically strict way. Tony likes making big gestures. He has never been subtle.

Note: Another Stony classic! This is a great take on ‘Tony denying his nature’! A deifinite 10/10 read!

Rockabye by BladeoftheNebula

Summary: Cute alphas didn’t appear out of nowhere to help ruined omegas. That was a widely accepted fact.Tony Stark had always known his life wouldn’t be easy as a genius omega in an alpha’s world. But not even he predicted getting knocked up and forced to move to a small town in the middle of nowhere.

Note: A fun read where Firefighter!Steve lend a hand to pregnant Tony! It also takes place in a Small Town kind of setting, which is an added bonus!

In the middle of the night by defenceless_stark

Summary:  In the past, alphas used to only mate with other alphas and maybe the occasional beta or delta. Omegas were seen as useless and scum to alphas. Omegas would only stay in a pack if they could keep up and they were only protected if they were the head alpha’s offspring. Over time, alphas soon discovered that omegas were useful for producing offspring, due to their high fertility rates and weaker genes, so, in most cases, only the alpha’s genes will pass on. Alphas soon evolved to an omega’s scent, making them possessive and dominant over omegas which led to an increase in abuse and mistreatment. Steven Rogers was expected to be an omega, but much to everyone’s to surprise, he was an alpha.

Anthony Stark was expected to be an alpha, but much to his father’s disappointment, he was an omega.

Like any omega, Tony had his fair share of omega abuse and harassment. But unlike any other omega, he wasn’t one to sit around and take it.

Note: If you are avid ABO fan, this is a Stony fanfic that you wouldn’t want to miss! 

In A Rut by rougewinter

“You don’t have to do this, Tony.” Pepper said as she tightened her white knuckled grip on the clipboard in her arms. “I’m sure we can find someone else.”

“Yes. I do.” Tony said, surprised that his voice came out steadier than he expected.

Or the one where Steve goes into an Alpha Rut and Tony is the only one who can help.

Note: A short but sweet-well, not sweet since it has that dose of great smut! make sure to check it’s sequel where Tony is in heat! (Heat Up by rougewinter for avengemehamlet)

Please don’t (give me what I want) by masterlokisev159

Summary: After the events in Siberia, a new law is declared and Steve and Tony's newly reformed relationship is torn to pieces.

Then Tony goes into heat. And Steve is adamant to save it.

A post-civil war story where Tony is put in a position where he cannot consent to anything at all. Steve, the strongest alpha of all time, is furious.

Note: For those Stony shippers that wants a bit of angst! 

Perfect Man for the Job by Ilearnedtoreadforthis

Summary: After his ordeal in Afghanistan, omega Tony creates the Stark Housing Initiative: Executive Level Development (or S.H.I.E.L.D., for short) to provide housing to returning veterans. When alpha Steve Rogers applies to manage S.H.I.E.L.D., it turns Tony's life upside down.

Note: This is a cute employee/boss story with a dash of ABO! 

World Acclimation by Del_Rion

Summary:  When an unexplained phenomenon washes over the entire planet, the Avengers are left to struggle along with the rest of the population. Chains of command, relationships and friendships alike are put to the test as new biological imperatives take hold, and only one thing is certain: the world will never be the same.

Note: This is one of my favorites! It has a unique take on ABO that I don’t see often. And well, Am still hoping for the next installment. Though, read the tags carefully!

You Are Not Broken, Just Bent. by NazakiSama166

Summary: He won't break!

No matter how much he was tortured, no matter how much he was beaten, starved, threatened... He won't, he won't, he won't!

Until he did...

--- When Shield uncovers a hidden sub-basement in the house of Obadiah Stane, they find a tortured omega and his pup. Everything went down the drain when that Omega turned out to be Tony Stark, Howard Stark's son that went missing six years ago.

Note: Anyone in the mood for angst?

WIP: 

Finding Pack by Naferty

Summary: In a world where pack means everything from status to fame to survival and to family, newly pack-less Tony Stark is trying to survive after those he once trusted betrayed him, and starting over by searching for a new pack to take him in, but with his age and status weighing heavily on his shoulders finding someone to take a chance on him might be easier said than done.

What pack wanted an old infertile omega in their ranks? Certainly not the famous Avengers pack led by the equally famous Captain.

Note: This is a bit of a slow burn Stony fanfic that ticks all ABO boxes! It’s an all-time-favorite and classic! 

Secrets Don't Make Friends by sayah1112

Summary: Tony Stark has a secret. Several, in fact. Outed to the world as an Omega, he finds himself stuck between a rock and a hard place. His only hope at salvation rests upon the strong shoulders of a certain Captain Steven Rogers. The problem? Rogers hates his guts.

Note: Another favorite of mine! This is a great hurt/comfort fanfic centered on stony!

This is just part 1 guys! I’m kind of a big fan of ABO so I have a few more to recommend!

[ggyutea]

into the aether // jjk [CHAPTER ONE]

pairing: agent!jungkook x agent!reader

genre: not-so-secret organization au, rivals to lovers au, sci-fi, action, slow burn, mutual pining, future mystery 👀, eventual fluff, eventual smut (probably), teeny bit of future angst

word count: 4.4k

summary: As a rookie member of an organization that deals in investigating and neutralizing paranormal and extraterrestrial threats, you get assigned to your very first case with Jeon Jungkook as your partner, a former classmate you’ve never been too fond of.  But what happens when your supposed low-tier rookie case begins to unravel into something more serious than anyone anticipated?  And, more importantly, how do you come to terms with your growing feelings for Jungkook?

contents: jungkook being a little shit, y/n is a bisexual disaster, the tension is real honestly, female!namjoon, long haired Kook, mild info-dumping for context

warnings: mild cursing

a/n: behold, my first posted fic! i have absolutely no idea how long this series will be but i’m super excited about it!!  i hope anyone who happens to come across this enjoys it :))

previous || masterlist || next

The agency-issued suit is surprisingly comfortable.  Form-fitting without being tight, the dress slacks and jacket cling softly to your body as you adjust your badge before entering your new workplace.  Taking a deep breath as you push open the double doors of the Aether Headquarters, you are greeted by the sight of many bustling individuals, all dressed in suits identical to the one currently adorning your body.  A potent mix of excitement and nerves light up your veins as you take in the sight, the moment almost surreal.  

Your heels click across the linoleum floor as you begin to make your way through the massive atrium to the semi-circular elevator.  You check and double check your badge for your assignment details, noting in relief when you realize that you haven’t already forgotten them.  Floor 7, Division S01.  Floor 7, Division S01, you repeat over and over again, a mantra of sorts.  Beginning at a brisk pace, you inevitably slow as you take in the sights of the cavernous space.  Massive glass windows stretch high towards the ceiling on every wall, letting in beams of early morning sunlight that cast a warm glow over everything they touch.  Two large LED screens are affixed on either side of the main elevator across the way, one showcasing a map of the city, the other a map of the country, with all of the paranormal and extraterrestrial hotspots highlighted in bright red pulsing circles.   A small cafe sits nestled in a corner to your left, baristas rushing around frantically in the midst of the morning rush.  A circular desk occupies the center of the room, currently manned by two individuals as they supervise the row of turnstile doors on either side.  Agents stand lined up in front of the doors, some impatiently checking their watches as they wait for the people in front of them to swipe in, others leisurely sipping their coffee.  

You’re reminded that in your haste this morning, you forgot to make yourself coffee, so before you join the agents at the doors, you cheerily purchase your own steaming cup of liquid energy.  You’re not sure if you really need it, with all of the adrenaline rushing through your system, but you figure it can’t hurt.  Sure enough, the warmth of the drink floods your body with a sense of ease, and you can’t help the smile that overtakes your face as you swipe your badge, watching the light on the console turn green as an automated voice says, “Welcome, Agent Y/n.”  Continuing your path towards the elevator, you note with glee an approaching directory indicating that the library and research facilities are to your right, with the short-term containment facilities lying to your left.  Of course, you have learned about all of this in your four years of training, but learning about the immensity of the resources available in the Aether Headquarters and actually seeing them and experiencing them are two completely different things.  You make a mental note to check out the library before the day is over as you enter an elevator car with several other agents.

The electricity in your veins feels nearly tangible as you ascend to your dream.  You note with an amused quirk of your lips that your internal energy seems a stark contrast to the yawns and sleepy gazes of the rest of the elevator.  The 7th floor arrives in the blink of an eye, and you excuse yourself as you weave past a couple agents to exit the car.  After a short navigation of the floor thanks to the clearly labeled and numbered signs, you finally approach the door to your division.  Pronounced in bold, simple characters, the division code ‘S01’ stares at you from the door as you regard it, a slight lump forming in your throat as you take one last sip of your coffee.  Thoughts fly through your head as you go through your mental checklist.  Supervisor = Agent Kim Namjoo.  Your hand is on the shiny chrome door handle.  Mixed division.  You’re turning it slowly.  Potential for other recent graduates to be working here.  Before you know it, the door is swinging open and-- “Ah!”  You’re suddenly met with the startled yelp of a young woman, causing you to flinch as it snaps you out of your reverie.  

The woman chuckles as she brings a hand to adjust her glasses, face quickly smoothing into a sweetly dimpled smile as she looks at you.  “I am so sorry,” she begins upon seeing your startled expression, “you caught me totally off guard.”  She laughs lightly.  “I don’t believe we’ve met!  You must be Agent Y/n.  I’m your supervisor, Agent Kim.”  She extends her hand to you as you blush, blurting out an apology before reaching out your own hand.  “Sorry we couldn’t have met under more formal circumstances, but it’s really no problem as my office is right here anyway,” she explains, gesturing to a door to her right.  

“Nice to meet you, Agent Kim!  I’m really very excited to be here,” you let out a soft chuckle as you begin to regain your composure.  Agent Kim flashes you another gorgeous smile that puts you immediately at ease.  

“I’m so happy to hear that, Agent.  If you wouldn’t mind following me into my office?”  She begins making her way towards her office door.  You quickly oblige, stepping into your supervisor’s spacious office.  Agent Kim takes a seat promptly behind her desk, motioning for you to have a seat across from her.  

“Hold on just one second.”  Your supervisor begins typing away at the keyboard of one of her two computers and you take the brief moment to admire the immaculately trimmed bonsai tree perched next to her.  However, your gaze quickly turns back to your supervisor as you can’t help but acknowledge how absolutely gorgeous she is.  Her skin has all the warmth of the first golden hues of a sunrise.  Brunette hair tied back elegantly, a few strands escape to frame the elegant slope of her face.  Her jawline is pronounced without being too sharp, culminating in the graceful point of her chin.  You flush slightly at your thoughts, mentally scolding yourself.  Great.  First day of work and you’re already simping over your boss.  It’s not your fault you’ve had such a wonderful first impression of her.  Everything about her presence immediately calms your racing heart and soothes any apprehensive thoughts that had crossed your mind on your journey into S01.

“Alright,” Agent Kim removes something from a desk drawer before setting it on the desktop and turning her attention towards you.  “First and foremost, welcome to Division S01!  Like I said, I’m your supervisor, Agent Kim.  This is a mixed division, which I’m sure you’re already aware of as it seems you specifically requested it.”  

You nod.  In the Aether, there are generally three types of divisions that field agents work in.  Each is composed of agents of all levels, from rookies like yourself to seasoned veterans.  Some divisions are dedicated entirely to the more peaceful reports from around the city that are generally non-violent and consist of relatively minor disturbances.  Nothing too serious, but due to their nature, these divisions see a lot of cases on the daily.  In your time at the Academy, you’d interned on a few of these types of cases, one of them involving the containment of an alien squid horde that was interfering with the local fishing economy.  Other divisions deal with the more intense, higher-magnitude cases.  Often violent, these investigations require collaboration from multiple agents throughout the division as they look into paranormal serial murder, shape-shifting extraterrestrial identity theft, and the like.  Divisions like yours, S01, are a hybrid.  They get the best of both worlds and are well suited for agents who are capable of handling everything across the board, and, more importantly, for agents who want to take on that kind of responsibility.  Since you graduated at such a high class rank at the Academy, you had no problem securing a spot in a mixed division such as this one.

“Now,” your supervisor picks up the item she had previously pulled from her desk.  “This is your tablet.”  She slides the device over to you.  “All of your assignments and case files will be sent to you through this, and you’ll have access to a limited virtual library via our digital databases if you find yourself needing that kind of resource.  Of course, you’ll use your agency-issued ID to login and it’ll give you full access!”  She beams as you hold the tablet in your hands.  “Your first assignment has already been sent to you, it looks like…” she trails off, turning to glance at her computer monitor.  Your heart starts picking up again.  You are literally holding your very first professional case in your hands!  

“Do you know what level it is, or who I’ll be working with?”  You can’t help the questions that bubble from your mouth.  Agent Kim shakes her head.

“Unfortunately, that information comes from higher up, so until you open the file yourself I have no way of knowing the details of your field assignment,” she says with a shrug.  Your stomach twists in anticipation, and you’re tempted to unlock your tablet and read through the entire assignment right then and there.

“Alright,” you say with a tentative smile.  Agent Kim returns your expression.

“Now, do you have any questions before I show you to your office?”  Her eyebrows lift as she looks at you expectantly.  “Don’t be timid, I know I had plenty of questions when I became an official agent, but I have found that the Academy really does a spectacular job preparing agents for the field.”

“I do have a question, actually.”  Agent Kim’s face immediately brightens.  “Are there any other recent Academy grads other than myself assigned to this division?”  You’re already aware that your closest friends from the Academy, Yubin and Jeongin, are stationed in different divisions, but you’re dying to know if anyone you recognize from your class at the Academy are in S01.  

“Ah, yes.  I figured you’d ask eventually.  Agent Jeong Jaehyun has been here for about a week now, and Agent Jeon Jungkook started yesterday morning.  They were both listed as having graduated with your class.”

You stiffen as soon as the name ‘Jeon Jungkook’ leaves her mouth.  You aren’t very familiar with Jaehyun, but Jungkook…  That’s a name you’ll never forget.  Top of your class at the Academy, teacher’s pet, fuckboy, irritatingly pretty Jungkook.

“Oh!” you squeeze out through gritted teeth and a tense jaw.  “Good to know!  Thank you, Agent Kim.”

“Of course,” she replies with her warm smile that almost eases the growing knot in your stomach.  “Would you care to see your office now?”

Your office isn’t huge, but it’s certainly functional.  A large sleek metal desk occupies the bulk of the room, with an equally sleek office chair to match.  You silently hope that it swivels.  Apart from the desk and chair, a filing cabinet stands tall in the corner, in addition to a floor lamp.  Another lamp sits perched on your desk beside two computer monitors and a telephone.  A screen nearly identical to, albeit smaller than, the ones mounted in the atrium sits above your desk, the blue and red graphics of your city adding a touch of color not unwelcome in the otherwise very neutral room.  Immediately, you begin considering ways to add your own personal touch to your workspace, inspired by Agent Kim’s bonsai tree.

Agent Kim explains the presence of dual computers, indicating that one is strictly for classified research purposes and details regarding any cases the agency might want to keep more under wraps than others, so to speak.  “The screen,” she adds, gesturing to the wall, “can be used for any video conferences, calls, and the like within the Headquarters and nationwide, as well as providing the same information as the screens--I’m sure you noticed them--in the atrium.”

You nod as she continues to talk, all the while setting your bag on your desk and beginning to unpack your few personal belongings, including your diploma from the Academy.

“I suppose that’s about all you need to know about your office for the time being,” Agent Kim says after reinforcing that your agency ID will be your key to accessing your electronics.  “Go ahead and start getting yourself settled, Agent Y/n.  Agents Kang and Choi should be in the offices directly adjacent to you…” she trails off, seemingly trying to recall if those are the correct agents.  “Anyway,” she claps her hands together, “If you have any questions, well, you know where to find me!  Let me know if you need anything at all.  I mean it.”  Agent Kim once again gives you that calming smile.  Her smile brings you a type of comfort you can’t quite explain, and you honestly couldn’t be happier with your supervisor so far.  She’s warm and inviting, intelligent, beautiful, with an air about her that simply exudes leadership and command.  

“Thank you, Agent Kim,” you match her smile.

With an amiable wave, she heads out.  Your thoughts very quickly turn back to your assignment, and you scramble to sit at your office chair, which does in fact swivel, much to your delight, agency tablet grasped tightly in your hands.  Questions race through your mind at the sight of the black mirrored surface, knowing what lies behind the locked screen.  You figure the case will probably be something low-profile, as you are brand-new, but you really hope that it’s something more advanced  You did graduate close to the top of your class... which brings your mind back to Jeon Jungkook.  He had the honors of graduating first, and you’ll never forget that fact.  You wonder what he’s been assigned, if it’s a more advanced case than is typical for rookie agents.  You probably don’t want to know, however; it’ll only make you more upset if your assignment is comparatively mundane.  At least you can rest in peace knowing that as a newbie, you’ll probably be paired with a more senior officer, and, with all of the agents who work in this division, the odds of running into Jungkook on a case are relatively slim.  You hoped that after you graduated you’d never have to cross paths again, but alas, here you are.  You sigh and run your fingers through your hair before focusing your attention back on the excitement of being here, your future literally in your hands.  The closest you’ve ever been.

Finally unlocking the tablet, you’re greeted by a relatively simple interface that allows you to very easily navigate to your newly received assignment.  The small folder icon sits amidst a sea of other completely unassuming icons, the tiny graphic completely unaware about the significance of its appearance to you.  You open the file, trying to empty your mind of any expectations, and then… your heart sinks.  At the very top of the document, next to your own, who else’s name do you see but Jeon Jungkook.  Well, fuck.

You spend the better part of the next hour contemplating whether you should read the file by yourself or get your shit together and go track down Jungkook’s office so you can go over it together.  Eventually, you settle for a quick skim, though the words barely stick in your mind as you find yourself somewhat preoccupied with thoughts about your partner.  How are you supposed to work with him?  You certainly don’t hate him, but you’ve always had your disagreements.  And you’ll never forgive him for taking your spot in the class, not to mention breaking your best friend’s heart.  

After absorbing as much information as your distracted mind can handle, which consists of a jumbled mass of something about a flower shop and floating objects, your rational professional brain gets the best of you, and you head to your supervisor’s office to inquire about the location of Jungkook’s--Agent Jeon’s--office.  You have a job to do, and as much as you’re dreading facing Jungkook, you’ll get the job done, and you’ll get it done well.  Just as you always have.  And though you can’t stand Jungkook, he’s not useless.

You approach the doorway to Jungkook’s office, finding the door already ajar, before stopping to lean against the doorframe, crossing your arms with your tablet clasped in one hand.  Jungkook is currently intently focused on one of his computer screens, face tense in concentration, chewing lightly on his lower lip.  Tie hanging loose around his neck, the top few buttons of his dress shirt undone, jacket foregone, sleeves rolled up to his elbows with his long slightly wavy hair dangling in his eyes… yep.  That’s Jungkook.  You clear your throat and give a small knock on the threshold.  Jungkook immediately shoots up.  “Y/n!” He exclaims, eyebrows lifted, a goofy smile toying on his face.  You resist the urge to roll your eyes.  “Sorry,” he clears his throat, “I mean- Agent Y/N,” he says, face growing serious as he emphasizes ‘Agent’.  “So,” he folds his hands dramatically on top of his desk.  “What can I do for you?”  You enter the room at last, mouth pursed in a firm line. “Agent Jeon,” you begin, taking a seat across from him.  “It appears as though we have been paired together for our first assignment.”  

“Oh, that’s right!  I saw that. I already read the whole file. Simple stuff.”  His hands are still perched steepled on top of his desk.

You gawk before realizing that of course he had gotten the file first; he’s been here since yesterday, and you figure that there was probably a fair amount of sucking up going on mixed in with, apparently, file reading.  “You...already read the whole file?  Were you ever going to come find me about it?”  It’s about mid-morning at this point, pushing towards noon, and most agents are already well into their work days.  You wonder what Jungkook has been up to all day if not coming to find you, but you suppose you can’t complain.  Reading Jungkook’s name on your assignment with an hour to process that information before actually seeing him is a far better scenario than him randomly showing up at your office expecting you to work with him.

He shrugs.  “I figured you’d come to me first once you found out about it and got settled.  I asked her about you and she told me you’d be here today.  I’ve been busy, and besides, it’s not like it’s a top priority case.”

How can he be so nonchalant about everything all the time while still managing to kiss nearly everyone’s ass?  And what the hell has he been busy with?  You smooth your hair back as you take a deep breath, mentally steeling yourself so as not to go off on Jungkook on your first day of work.  No doubt, you’re still harboring several grudges from the Academy, but you’re a professional now.  A professional.  What a way to start your dream job.

“For future reference, if necessary, I would prefer that we go over the file together in detail first. This isn’t the Academy anymore, Agent Jeon. These are real people dealing with real problems and I’d like to be on the same page as much as possible at every given moment.  Even if the case isn’t ‘top-priority.’”

Jungkook has been like this for about as long as you’ve known him, and although you are mere acquaintances, albeit rivals of a sort, everyone in your class at the academy was well-aware of Jeon “The Golden Boy” Jungkook’s disposition and ass-kissing tendencies.  Top of your class, he always managed the best possible marks while seemingly caring about his work as little as possible.  Showing his face at every party, event, club--you name it--available to him, you have no idea how he managed to get along as well as he did and continues to do.  You suppose it’s probably due to his incredible charm, and some suspiciously large quantity of natural talent, not to mention his good looks.  You may dislike him, but you aren’t blind.  Naturally, his success always bugged you, as you constantly worked your ass off.  Always trailing behind him, never quite catching up, like a dog chasing its own tail, you graduated second in your class.  Years of hard work and careful studying, focusing nearly all of your attention on taking every possible opportunity available to advance your standing, was evidently not enough to best The Golden Boy.  You always got the feeling he wasn’t too fond of you either, not that you really care.  I guess the universe has a strange way of torturing you by assigning you two to the same division in the Aether.

“Noted.”  Jungkook nods.  

“What were you so ‘busy’ with anyway?”  You can’t help yourself.

Jungkook shifts uncomfortably, eyes shifting away from yours.  “It doesn’t matter, Agent Y/n.  Sorry I didn’t come get you earlier,” he says before clearing his throat, eyes meeting yours once more.  You decide to let the matter go.  Work awaits.

“Very well, Agent,” you say, eyeing him curiously.  “Now, if you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to go over the contents of the file with you so we both know what’s going on and we can go forward from there.”  You put every effort of your being into injecting nothing but professionalism into your voice, even managing a small, tight smile.

“Fair enough,” he replies as you scoot forward in your chair and unlock your tablet as Jungkook does the same.  Upon closer inspection of the document than earlier, you glean that the report comes from a Mr. Kim Seokjin who apparently owns a flower shop called Worldwide Bouquet downtown.  He claims that his bouquets are disassembling themselves overnight which, understandably, is negatively affecting his business.  He reports instances of his materials floating out of his reach, flowers being flung about his workspace, and the resulting frustration.  Jungkook taps his fingers on the table as you scan the screen, one hand lazily scrolling through his own tablet.

“Sounds like some sort of sprig,” you mutter after perusing the report.  Sprigs are one of the more docile paranormal creatures you’ve studied, typically materializing out of the playful spirit of a child.  As a result, these spirits are typically very mischievous without malicious intent.  Some have telekinetic abilities, some illusory capabilities and the like, but all in all, they are generally fairly easy to take care of and contain until their energy eventually dissipates into the atmosphere.  At least, the Academy had taught you as much.

“That’s what I was thinking,” Jungkook offers.  “A telekinetic one, most likely.  Should be a quick job.”

You nod, slightly disappointed that you weren't going to be dealing with something a bit more exciting than a simple sprig, let alone dealing with it with Jungkook.  The Aether probably isn’t too fond of handing off the more sensitive cases to newbies, even if you and Jungkook more than proved yourselves in the Academy.  Too bad there isn’t too much about the case to actually discuss.  You feel a bit foolish for making such a big deal about Jungkook not coming to you after he originally read the file as you feel your shoulders slump ever so slightly.

“See?  Not top-priority,” Jungkook smirks.  “You didn’t think they’d really give us something important for our first case, did you?”

“Am I really that obvious?”

“Yep.”

“I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t been hoping for something more, but it’s all important work Agent Jeon.”  Besides, if you manage to execute this mission perfectly, considering working with Jungkook proves to be manageable, you’d hope that your next case will be of significantly higher status.

“Of course,” Agent Jeon says, tucking a stray strand of inky hair behind his ear.  “The super important case of the floating flowers,” he snorts.  

You scoff.  “Can’t you take something seriously for once in your goddamn life, Agent Jeon?  I will literally never understand how you managed as well as you did in the Academy.”  Grabbing your tablet in preparation to leave and shaking your head, you stand up.  Jungkook sits unbothered.

“Apparently not,” he retorts, folding his arms across his broad chest.

“Since you seem so blatantly disinterested in this case, I’ll just take care of it myself,” you huff.  “Go back to whatever you were so busy with before, Agent.”

“Agent Y/n, we both know you can’t do that.”

He’s right.  If you execute the mission by yourself without Agent Jeon, it wouldn’t reflect well on either of you, and you can’t risk compromising your image this early in your career.  Especially if it meant you’d be stuck investigating nothing but sprigs for the next ten years.

A long sigh escapes you as you shoot a glare at Jungkook before sitting back down across from him.  You force the fakest smile you think you’ve ever conjured.

“We’re going to stop by Mr. Kim’s later today to get the initial visit out of the way, okay Agent?”  Your voice is thick with mock sweetness.  “3:00, my office.  I’ll be calling Mr. Kim and letting him know we’ll be checking in, kay?”  

“Sounds great, Agent.” Jungkook returns your phony expression.  

You stand up once more, this time with the full intention of actually leaving.  “It was a pleasure, as always, Agent Jeon.”  You straighten your jacket with one hand before promptly exiting, not bothering to close the door behind you.  The last thing you hear is a prolonged, exasperated exhale.  That makes two of us, you muse to yourself.

Upon returning to your office, you slump down in your chair, mind spinning with the incredulity of what just happened.  You’re not sure at all how you’re going to manage working with Jungkook, especially since he seems so hellbent on being as difficult as possible.  This is exactly what you were afraid of.  The feeling, however, is probably mutual, so all you need to do is get through this.  Hopefully after this you’ll never have to man a case with him again, even if you are still stuck in the same division.  

Encouraged by that sentiment, swiveling ever so slightly back and forth in your chair, you manage to boost your mood just enough to finally be able to pick up the phone to call Mr. Kim.

Well, you sigh inwardly.  This should be interesting.

[akallia]

no better

can you tell I love Faye Valentine? anyways here's another one. sorry for inconsistent posting, I worked 60 hours this week and I'm back to school tomorrow (kms). Enjoy!

Song: No Better by Lorde

Pairing: Levi x gn! reader

Word count: 1500

Summary/concept: modern vaguely canon AU (vaguely canon AU holds a special place in my heart), gang leader Levi, vaguely ACWNR inspired

CW: violence (implied)

“Levi, love, could you pass me the sugar?” You asked kindly, knowing what his reaction would be before you even finished uttering the words.

Like clockwork, the man’s nose wrinkled and lips curled in distaste. “Sugar? In your tea? How many times do I have to tell you that you’re ruining the natural flavor of it? It’s black tea. It’s already sweet enough, idiot.” So blunt. You found it adorable how after all these years he remained as irritable as ever. You would probably faint if he changed. He was perfect, and he had been even in the beginning when you were just two punk kids roaming the city.

You remember vividly the days of you and Levi ruling the streets. Two orphans were bound to bond in a dump like your city; it wasn’t long until you became the uncrowned king and queen. It helped that you were a match made in heaven. You were the brains and Levi was the brawn. It doesn’t get much better than that.

You rolled your eyes at Levi’s comment in a lazy attempt at appearing to be annoyed with him, pouring the sugar in your tea absentmindedly and listening to the clock tick and the pages of Levi’s book turning. While you were now soldiers, that didn’t mean that your downtime with Levi disappeared. On the contrary, now that you were both seasoned veterans–and quite skilled ones at that–you had the prestige and rank needed to buy yourselves a slice of mock domesticity. You didn’t mind. All you ever wanted was to be by his side. Now you could have that and also do what you do best: fight. You loved being a soldier.

“Oi,” Levi interrupted your thoughts. “What’s on your mind? You look like you need to take a shit.”

“Charming, as usual, Levi.”

He fixed you with a perceptive stare. “Tell me.”

“Nothing,” you responded lightheartedly, chuckling a bit. “Just reminiscing on the old days.”

The clock chimed one in the morning.

“Feel that, Levi?” You yelled over the roar of the wind. “That’s summer!” You stretched your arms out wide, standing up in the backseat of the convertible you had carjacked to escape the scene of the crime. The speed injected a rush of serotonin you hadn’t felt in a long, long time.

You felt strong arms yank you down as Jan steered you, Isabel, Farlan, and Levi into a tunnel. You laughed, knowing a lecture was coming but not really minding. It was worth it.

The same pair of arms reached forward and two rough hands pulled your face towards theirs. “You are so stupid, you know that? Look me in the eyes and say you won’t do that again.”

Your eyes met Levi’s worried ones. He was such a dad sometimes, you thought. “Oh come on, Lev!” You pouted, deciding to make a big deal out of it and crossing your arms childishly. “You never get mad when Isabel does shit like that but the second I do it’s a problem.”

“That’s because you’re supposed to set a good example. Now stop squirming around and behave. We’re not out of the woods yet.”

You just laughed at him again, leaning in for a kiss. The air was humid and warm despite the speed Jan had the car at, and you relished the feeling of his lips on yours, wet with a sheen of sweat from the exertion of the job and the anxious lip-biting he was so guilty of. He kissed you back briefly, shoving you a bit too roughly back into your own personal space–not that there was any. The convertible you’d stolen was only a four-seater, but you, Isabel, and Levi had crammed in the back due to being the smallest since Jan and Farlan’s legs were too long.

Your legs stuck to the seats uncomfortably but you didn’t mind. Your knees knocked against Levi’s clothed one and Isabel’s bare one, and all you could think about was how happy you were to be with your gang. As long as they were all fine, everything would be okay.

An hour later, you reached the outskirts of the city. It wasn’t an area controlled by your gang, but there was a relatively safe place you and Levi had set up years ago to be used in case you ever found yourselves so far from home base. The car was pulled into a run-down garage with the license plate discarded and paperwork burned. You’d sell it for quick cash later to add onto the bounty you’d just made. Maybe you’d buy Levi some new shirts with it since they always seemed to get ripped in fights.

A few days passed while you waited for the cops to stop searching for you. It was getting boring, and the summer weather was no longer charming. Jan kept trying to pick fights with people in the street to “test his strength” but even the gangs on this side of town seemed to be bored of the humidity. But eventually it was time to leave, and eventually it was simply too difficult to stay inside when it was so blessedly sunny out. Let the cops come, you thought. It’s summer after all.

Fall rolled seamlessly into winter. The sun was just as uncharacteristically present as it had been in the summer and you thought maybe those scientists on TV were onto something with that global warming stuff you heard about sometimes. Isabel’s tendency to burn hadn’t gone away but it had significantly lessened with her decision to listen to Levi’s lectures on taking care of one’s skin.

You pondered this as you walked down a pristine sidewalk framed by fancy stores. The streets uptown were always so boring compared to the neighborhoods you and Levi ruled. Nobody stopped to talk, no kids played in the street, the cars moved too fast, and nobody waved at each other. There was a subtle taste of tiredness that was never present where you were from. There, everybody came together for the holidays no matter how difficult it was, but here there was a tangible feeling of deeds outgrown and welcomes overstayed. You wanted to get out of there immediately but you knew you needed to get to one of these stores to buy the last item on your shopping list.

You were craving Christmas. You could taste it in the air. It was only a few days away, and with it came Levi’s birthday–your favorite day of the year. Isabel was always a bundle of joy (as per usual) and Farlan really got into the holiday spirit and Levi was just… Levi. Levi but another year older. He never told anyone his birthday, and you’d had to bully it out of Kenny when you’d gone to visit him in prison one day. That old fart. You wondered how different Levi would have been if Kenny hadn’t bullied him so much growing up.

Either way, your present for Levi hinged on the money you needed to purchase it. And for that, you’d needed his help whether he had wanted to give it or not. You smiled as you remembered the most recent heist you’d dragged him to.

One Week Prior

“I told you it would pull through, Lev!” The convertible top was up this time but the windows were down in your haste to tear out of the bank’s vicinity. Levi looked relieved but wasn’t trying to show it. Bastard. You’d get through to him one day.

You blew a bubble with the chewing gum you’d snatched from the purses of one of the bank’s patrons when they were busy becoming Levi’s hostages for the heist. It popped, coating your lips and chin.

Levi spared a glance at you sitting prim and preening in the passenger’s seat, shivering from the cold air pumping through the open windows. “That shit is disgusting and bad for you, I don’t care what the package says. It isn’t good for your teeth.”

Levi’s knuckles were white on the leather steering wheel. His body language was tense from reflex but you could read him too well. His voice had relaxed to its standard velvety timbre and his eyebrows weren’t knitted for once. He was definitely pleased with the little trick you’d pulled back there. You felt warm and fuzzy inside at the knowledge that you’d made him happy. It didn’t help that he looked positively dashing in the outfit you’d forced him into. The all-black tactical uniform fit him deliciously, and the balaclava pooled at the base of his neck made his porcelain skin glow against the fabric. To top it all off, his normally pin straight and perfectly arranged hair was tousled and sticking to his forehead.

You could only smile at him, all teeth. If your lifestyle was a way to get dead, this was the right way to do it.

[miss-bvnny]

Yet another fan tweaks up TLK 2 and TLG: The Squeakel.

Im bored and in a lil pain. time to jot down all my personal ideas/headcanons for how I'd polish up TLK 2 and TLG to fit with the first movie a bit better, and create something more cohesive since like only about 3 people on the TLK2 and TLG teams paid attention to the first movie. I've seen a lot of hedcanons and AUS and whatnot in my day so I've kinda got a good idea of what i like and what I think might work better. Veteran TLK creators please interact with me and gib feedeback on my sick tricks

Uhhh TW for abuse and cub death

So...while there's TECHNICALLY nothing I'd change about the first movie, as it's pretty much done and solid, I wanted to play with my ideas for Zira's backstory.

YES in my version it'd be a one-sided love, kinda like how DemiiDee on dA and Silver-Wolf-17/@mask-of-prime see it, Scar knew she was obsessed with him since the day she met him as a cub, and took advantage of that. After he became king, he wanted loyal lionesses just in case Sarabi, Nala, Sarafina and the others got wise and rebelled. Zira and her pride sisters were all starving, and he knew that. He welcomed them in, promising food and comfort in return for their loyalty. Zira didn't hesitate to agree, and Scar loved her blind adoration of him. He WOULD have liked it if someone like Sarafina was so blindly in love with him (Scar had a gross unrequited obsessive crush on Sarafina growing up, and he constantly held it against her after she chose to be with Nala's father Mega instead. This is another reason why he was so hard on the hunting parties. He used his position as king to get petty revenge on childhood bullies and the like). Scar decided Zira would be his queen but like...ONLY because Sarafina had already made her choice. Zira didn't care, and knew she'd make Scar proud and produce a lot of wonderful heirs for him, in order to repay him for ''all he'd done for her'' (A very thin and insincere ''all'' if you ask me). So, Zira gets pregnant with who will eventually be Nuka, but...Rafiki takes a look at her and sees she's very weak and will probably only have one cub. Oh well. Let's just hope this one son is a suitable heir in Scar's eyes.

....Well-

Nuka's born. Weak, unfocused, and not at all what Scar wanted or was hoping for. He TRIES to teach Nuka and raise him as an Heir, but...it just doesn't work. Scar believes he was destined for greatness and for a prosperous, strong lineage. Nuka is none of those things, and it seems Zira will never be able to give him another heir (I KNOW the ''This woman can't have kids'' trope is icky but HOLD ON wait until you see where I'm going with this) Scar disowns Nuka and scolds Zira for disappointing him. Zira begs for his forgiveness, and swears on her life she'll find a way to make things worth Scar's while.

During this time, several of the male cubs who were born around the same time as Simba are being exiled. Scar doesn't want any males around to threaten overtaking him, and nips the problem in the bud before it ever becomes an issue. Many pride sister saw him doing this, and while they disagreed with it...it DID offer one bonus: Trustworthy males were leaving for better lands. They could take the new young cubs with them, since none of the sisters wanted their children to be raised in Scar's Pridelands.

Surprisingly, one of these lionesses trying to save her cubs...was Zira. Within the last few months, she'd...began to realize perhaps she was looking at Scar with rose-colored glasses. She was beginning to wonder if perhaps she was wrong to worship him the way she did. The thoughts were still kinda...new, and she wasn't sure what to do. But, during all her confusion, she DID happen to meet another male lion. Mpendwa, (Swahili for ''Honey'') was an old friend from her teenage years who was a wanderer by nature. Zira was VERY happy to see him again, after all these years. She met with him in secret, when Scar and the Hyenas weren't looking, and began to fall in love with him. REAL love. Mutual good love, where he loved her for who she was, and NOT what she could give him. Even Nuka seemed to like him, too! And...by some miracle, Zira and Mpendwa had a secret litter together! Four beautiful, healthy little cubs! It was perfect. SO perfect. Perhaps the problem had lain not in Zira, but in Scar the entire time. It served as more confirmation to Zira that...perhaps she was in the wrong to love him. Mpendwa asked her if she and their four cubs would come with him. Somewhere far and somewhere safe, where they could be happy together. Zira...was hesitant, afraid of disappointing Scar further, and even more afraid to leave her pride sisters behind. They were in this because of her, and...there were so many of them that it'd be impossible to get all of them out without Scar seeing something was up. Nevertheless, she knew she had to think about the future of her cubs, and NOT about Scar. She agreed, and plans were made for Zira and Nuka to meet Mpendwa at the border with her four cubs. In the dead of night, they'd leave using the rest of the evacuating males as a cover so they could make a clean getaway.

....Well...to make a very heartbreaking and gruesome story short...Scar knew about Mpendwa the entire time. And of course he saw Zira was pregnant. He overheard their plains to escape, and prepared accordingly. Mpendwa and three of Zira's cubs were killed as punishment for her disloyalty and attempt at mutiny. He lets her keep the youngest one alive as a reminder of her shortcomings, but ONLY if she'll swear her loyalty to him once more. With nothing else left to do, she swore her allegiance to him, and returned to the Pridelands with only Vitani and Nuka left of her family. In the coming days and months, Scar turns up the charm to further entice Zira, making sure she and Vitani are given the best of everything and taken care of, to ensure she feels terrible about what she did and she never acts out again. Sadly, it works, and Zira falls back in love with him, realizing SHE was the one in the wrong, and was an utter fool to betray Scar. Things are....steady for a while. Not bad, not good, but...steady for Zira and Scar. He of course ignores both cubs, and Zira has to reach out to him pleadingly if she wants to connect with him. Zira works as a willing mouthpiece to spout propaganda tot he rest of the pride, assuring then Scar is a GREAT king, their ONLY king, and that he will usher in a new golden age for them all. It pleases Scar and he is sure to...ever so slightly reciprocate his gratitude to her. If only to keep her totally convinced to stay with him. Zira can see he's...flaky and not too sure about her, and decides she MUST act fast to show him she is worthy.

She MUST somehow produce him a viable heir. And quickly. But with all the other males gone, there's not a whole lot of cubs being born. And her beloved Mpendwa is long dead. So...she has to figure something else out. One day, while hunting for Vitani and Nuka on her own, she runs across a skinny dark brown lone lioness taking a dead zebra somewhere. She tells Nuke and Vitani to wait, and begins to stalk this female, named Jibu (''Answer'') Jibu takes her kill to a secluded spot, and Zira notices she's having trouble catching her breath. It doesn't take Zira long to see...Jibu is pregnant. VERY pregnant, and close to giving birth. GIVING birth, actually! She's going into labor. Jibu cries out for mercy, knowing she is alone and there is no one around to help her. Zira, in a moment of maternal instinct and compassion, helps her. She, along with Nuka and Vitani, stay by Jubi's side as she gives birth to one little brown cub. Then, Zira gets...a really really REALLY terrible idea, just looking at the little cub. Calmly, she tells Vitani and Nuka that Jibu will need some water, and that they need to bring some back for her in some fresh moss. It's a big job, and the cubs are BOTH very willing to help. Vitani and Nuka leave on their big mission, and then Zira, Jibu, and the new cub are left alone.

Zira is quick about it. Merciful, even. By the time Nuka and Vitani get back, Jibu is dead. Zira sorrowfully tells the cubs that...the birthing process was simply too much for a weak and skinny loner like her, and that there was nothing at all that could have been done. Nuka asks what they're going to do with the cub, and Zira says she SUPPOSES they could take it back to the pride, as well as the zebra Jibu just killed. They return to the pridelands with food, and...Zira presents the cub to Scar. She tells him that his mother gave birth on the edge of the territory, before succumbing to her dehydration and fatigue. Scar looks the cub over, and is overjoyed. He declares THIS cub, this Kovu, WILL be his heir.

So, time passes, and before you know it, Simba returns. The TRUE Pridelanders rise up and reclaim their land. In the wake of his return, Zira's pride sisters see the error of their ways, and oppose the hyenas in battle. Scar is overthrown, and Simba takes his place as King. Zira is of course horrified, outraged, and...filled with a turmoil of emotions about it. Some part of her feels...free that Scar is gone, but the rest of her was so twisted by his words that she doesn't want to admit she's happy he's dead. She chokes those feelings down, trying to sit still and look pretty for Simba as he moves in. Nuka, Vitani, and little Kovu are doing well, and...as a mother that's all she should care about, really. But...deep down inside, there's a growing, growling, burning need for revenge in her soul.

As Kovu grows a little bigger and the pridelands heal more, Simba and Nala announce the birth of their OWN heir.....Kopa. Yep. Yes. That's right, I'm a Kopa theorist. Upsetting, I know. But like....it makes sense. Look at how overprotective and suffocating Simba was to Kiara in TLK 2. Almost like he'd dealt with tragedy in relation to a cub before, and vowed to never let it happen again. Huh. If YOU'RE reading this and you have no idea who Kopa is and the drama behind his very existence, first of all God I wish I was you, secondly, go here to learn what then entire TLK fandom is divided over:

https://disney.fandom.com/wiki/Kopa

Anyway, Kopa is begins to grow and learn as the next king of Pride Rock, good friends with Nuka and Vitani, and even their cute little brother Kovu. He's not...VERY old right now, but he'll grow and be able to play with them one day! Their mom, Zira, seems....a little upset about stuff. She always watches them from afar, never engages with the rest of the Pride, and doesn't seem to like Simba. Kopa, as a young kid determined to be a great king, takes a note to keep an eye on this. She might be really old, but she's part of his father's kingdom. Everyone else is happy and healthy, she should be too, right? Simba and Nala seem...worried about her as well. For different reasons, but yeah.

Ever the hunter and woman scorned, Zira has been...studying Kopa. He's young and naive, but...eager to learn and take over for his father. He's studious and intuitive, often finding trouble without meaning to, because he was trying to solve a problem or get involved in pride politics. Of course, all the other lions and creatures love him, and are eager to see him grow into a fine future king. There s NO doubt he's a jewel in his family's crown. But...he is still a cub. Zira remembers how devastated she was to lose Vitani's three siblings, and knows that Simba and Nala will be equally devastated if....something happens to Kopa. She knows exactly how she's going to avenge Scar now.

Simba and Nala were out on a little moonlight hunt together one night, like they enjoyed to do together. They were coming back to Pride Rock afterwards, only to hear a terrible commotion. Zazu rushed to meet them, telling of something terrible that had just happened: Zira tried to assassinate the young prince. Her pride sisters were now in arms against Sarabi and her pride sisters, trying to stop an attempted uprising. Simba and Nala quickly joined in to fight, Simba finding Zira with Kopa in her jaws. He stops her, and Timon and Pumbaa are quick to get Kopa to Rafiki for healing. Simba and Nala face off against Zira while she gives her side of the story. telling about how she's tired of being docile and pretending her heart isn't broken after Simba and Nala both took everything from her. Simba and Nala both see she's still...terribly twisted by Scar's words, trying to be patient but firm with her as they attempt to talk her down. She won't have it, and leaps at Simba, Nala gets involved, and they fight her off. Simba calls for her banishment, and she is thrown out of the Pridelands with the rest of her followers, and her three cubs.

During all of this, Rafiki is attending to Kopa and his injuries. They're...bad, but not fatal. With time, he'll be just fine. Zira left him blind in one eye, gave him a terribly ripped ear, nearly tore his tail off, and he's got a deep throat scar that will alter his voice quite a bit. With time he'll be alright physically, but...I'm not so sure about mentally. Kopa has...a LOT of PTSD over it. blaming himself for how he thought Zira was a friend he could help, wondering if he was stupid for never seeing her anger sooner. He begins to question his abilities as a future king. Yes, he's still young, and accidents happen, but...this event has left him a bit jaded all the same. Simba and Nala see it, and...want to do the best for their son. They can see the enthusiasm in his eyes to one day be king fading. It's devastating. And...while Simba isn't about to give up on him, he doesn't want to force Kopa into something he...clearly doesn't want to do anymore. On top of that...Simba fears Kopa may not be safe in the Pridelands anymore. Zira and her followers ARE in the Outlands, but...Zira is bold and full of hate. There's no telling what she could do next. After a lot of deliberation, meeting with Zazu, Nala, and Kopa...the king comes to a conclusion. He strips Kopa of his title as an heir, and sends him to live in the Oasis with Ma, Uncle Max, and the rest of Timon's family. He'll be safe and well-fed there, far away from Zira. It'll only be for a while, until the trouble with the outlanders settles down, and until Kopa is ready to return home. Kopa agrees to the idea whole-heartledy, and departs for the Oasis as soon as he's fit to travel. It's...painful and hard, but it's the best option for their son's mental health. Simba and Nala do visit often, and are glad to see it DOES seem to be working.

Okay. So Zira tried to kill Kopa in the name of Scar, got herself booted, and the origins of her three cubs have been dealt with. That's all the Zira/Scar and Kopa backstory stuff done and dealt with. I'm gonna cut it right here since this is gettin awful lengthy, and continue with TLK 2 and The Lion Guard in a part 2. Keep an eye out for that one.

[harringtonstudios]

dusky pink.

plot: you’re called in for an emergency photoshoot, not really knowing what to expect, things can surprise you. part 2!

A/N: holy moly this is the most i’ve written! glad i got back in a mood. this is for the anon that asked about a model!au earlier, i hope you like it. 

taglist: @iamdorka​ @no-shxt-sherl​ @bakerkells​ @findingmyth​ @rosegoldrichie​

When you had gotten an emergency casting call from Galore Magazine, you hadn’t expected all this. YBeing an established model, you were  known for your unique photoshoots and uprising through runway walks. You had been in the industry for almost a full year now, feeling like a veteran when you were constantly being booked by different agencies. 

Galore Magazine was one of your first employers. They had allowed you to explore your creative side while posing for the camera, launching what the industry called your “brand.” You had developed a strong, personal relationship with the executive assistant of the magazine, and she would always offer you jobs when you felt like you needed something to do in order to keep busy. 

-

The phone call came in at 3am, disrupting a night out. You had immediately picked up, walking to the outside of a club after seeing her name flash on the screen. Within minutes, in a slightly tipsy haze, you had agreed to a two-day long shoot, confirming that you would be able to fly out in a few hours. 

The alcohol had settled into your bloodstream when you rushed to your apartment, throwing clothes into a duffel bag. The flight you were supposed to be on was scheduled to leave soon, and you knew that check-ins were going to be a bitch, so you grabbed a bagel from the 24/7 corner deli before setting off to get to the airport. 

It was only after you had settled into the airplane seat that you realized you weren’t exactly sure what you had said yes to. The alcohol from last night had drained out, leaving you with a pounding headache and you grimaced as the plane started lifting off. Pulling out your phone, you texted the editor of Galore, shamelessly asking what you had signed up for the night before. 

There were a few emojis exchanged and then finally, you got the creative plan for the shoot. It was supposed to be a Romeo-and-Juliet aesthetic, inspired by the 90s Leonardo DiCaprio version. You grinned, remembering how fully obsessed you were with that movie in your teenage years. The vibes had always seemed so beautiful, popping shadows and gold chains, it was something you were eager to emulate. 

As you read through the notes, you realized that they had a rapper coming in to play as Romeo. This threw you off, there was a certain way you modeled and when collaborating with others, you liked to be prepared beforehand. It wasn’t anything bad necessarily, you just liked to know your partners so that you could tweak your methods to their needs better. You took a breath before opening up Google to search up “Machine Gun Kelly.” 

There were a shit-ton of articles to sort through, mostly relating to his new album release, “bloom.” Scrolling through the different new posts, you bit your lip. He seemed nice enough,a few things catching your eye straight off the bat. The tattoos that lined his skin were amazing, creating a tinge of jealousy as you looked at all of them. Tattoos were your weakness, having about ten smaller ones yourself. This was going to be interesting.

-

Landing at the airport, you caught a Lyft straight to the set. Since this was an emergency fill-in, you didn’t have time to do much else, sighing as the Galore studio came into view. You loved being in California, the sun shining down on you, cobbled streets, lazing living and you really wanted to enjoy all of it. 

Right away, the front desk assistant shuffled you off to the hair and make-up room. The team had a very specific vision to execute and you smiled as their creation came to life. Putting on a natural, dewy look, you sat up straight, trying to make this process as easy as possible for everyone.

 Picking up tweezers, they aligned gems under your eyes, making the color pop. Lightly dusting some shimmery powder on your cheek, they moved on to your hair. Straightening it, they applied some sleeking oils before tying it back a little. All of a sudden, one of the top makeup executives came rushing in, holding a swatch of eyeshadow. 

“Put this on her! And make sure her lip color matches. Let’s go, hurry it up,” he clapped, throwing the palate to the artist working on you. You shut your eyes, letting fingers run over your eyelids. The color was a dusky pink and as you looked at yourself in the mirror, you felt good. 

Applying some Vaseline on your lips before the pink gloss, you pursed your mouth together, blowing a kiss at the mirror. Glancing up, you caught the eye of someone standing behind you. 

Turning around, you looked up to see none other than Machine Gun Kelly, leaning against the doorway. His makeup seemed to be already done, matching the glow of yours. His hair was done up, looking soft and sharp at the same time. There was a scar on his cheek, cut open and you saw the eyeshadow shade splotched around it, creating dusky pink on top of his cheekbone. He was smiling at you and you felt a blush start to rise on your cheeks. 

“Promise I’m not that cocky. Ever,” you muttered, trying to avoid his warm gaze. 

“Cockiness is sexy,” he laughed, leaning over to reach out a hand, “I’m Kells.”

“Y/N,” you responded, giving him a loose handshake. 

“Oh c’mon, I know you can shake harder than that,” he grinned, gripping the tips of your fingers in his hand. 

“I mean, I could. But why would I want to?” you responded cheekily. Raising his eyebrows, he smirked, dropping your hand. 

“HEY YOU TWO! GET INTO COSTUME,” the executive assistant shouted as she passed by. Walking behind you, she leaned in to whisper, “Looks like someone’s getting along,” before going on her way. Feeling the blush climb just a little higher, you got up off the chair. 

“Costumes that way,” you murmured, pointing down the hall as Kells followed behind you.

 “So, you know a lot about Galore?” he asked and you smiled thinking of all the memories you had in these very rooms. 

“Yeah, they gave me my first big break yanno? I’ve been eternally indebted to them since,” you explained, letting your fingers trail over the walls covered in autographs. 

“Wow, big ups to you. Most people forget where they come from, glad to see you sticking to your roots,” he spoke as you turned into the room. 

“Mhm,” you whispered, immediately getting distracted by the racks that hung around the room. Colors popped out from every corner, complementing the golden shades on your faces. Reaching out to touch one of the satin shirts, you felt Kells nudge your elbow from behind. 

“I don’t think we’re supposed to touch those,” he murmured, nodding to the sign that the costume designer had hung up. 

“They’re beautiful, I have to. Fuck the rules,” you muttered, picking up one of the hangers off the rack. 

He gave you a look before mumbling, “That’s what I like to hear,” and then both of you were grabbing hangers, pulling clothes off of the racks. 

“Where do we change?” he asked, hands bunching up the expensive silky shirts. You knew the changing stations were next door, but you didn’t want to really walk over. 

Looking up at Kells, you smirked before going, “Right here?”

“Oh? Don’t have to tell me twice,” he said, throwing the shirts on one of the chairs in the room. Reaching to pull over his white t-shirt, he laughed, seeing your gaze on his bare torso. 

“Sorry, I um, haven’t seen so many tattoos on somebody,” you stuttered out, hands itching to reach across and touch. 

“I think that’s what they all say,” he said, running his tongue against his teeth. 

“Shut up, get naked,” you scoffed, turning around to hide the red of your cheeks.

 Pulling off your top, you reached for the first shirt you had grabbed, a deep blue button down. It wasn’t meant for you, reaching down to the tops of your thighs as you closed one of the lower buttons. The shoot was going to be in lingerie anyway, and you knew Kells would see your body, so there wasn’t any reason to hide it right now. Turning around, you presented yourself, throwing up jazz hands. 

He guffawed, palms reaching up to cover his mouth. Widening your eyes, you leaned over, putting your hands on top of his. 

“Stop, are you trying to get caught?” you shushed him, looking at the door for the costume director to walk in at any minute. 

“I’m sorry, you just look great, I. I can’t even come up with words,” he snickered as you moved your hands back. 

Flipping him off, you took a step back, admiring his look. He was wearing a deep pink suit, jacket open to reveal all his tattoos, pants tailored to his exact body shape. Looking him up and down, you wet your lips, tongue reaching out involuntary. 

He opened his mouth to say something, but suddenly a shout came through the door. “What is going ON? Y/N you know better,” came rushing out of the mouth of the director. Snapping at you, she pointed over to a rack filled with satin lingerie. 

“Get the white one on now. Take this shit off,” she said, reaching for the blue shirt you’d done up. Huffing, you shrugged it off, before walking over to the clothes for you. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see her fussing over Colson’s fit, playing around with the buttons on his jacket. 

Shrugging off your sweatpants, you pulled on the white outfit. It fell to the bottom of your legs, slits done meticulously to show off your legs. The lace on it was beautiful, and you hesitated before stepping back around, suddenly getting a little bundle of nerves in your belly. 

“Perfect! Come here,” she muttered, reaching for something on the table. Picking up a set of angel wings, she turned you around, snapping them over your back. 

You saw Kells staring at you from his spot by the door, and the heat in his eyes was unmistakable. The bundle turned into a flutter and you swallowed, trying to calm yourself down. This was just going to be another shoot, nothing special. 

-

Oh how wrong you were. Right off the bat, the director asked you both to go across the street, in the mansion they had booked for the day. This was your first time exploring and you had quietly marveled in the grandeur of it all. There was a high wall, taller than you were, but coming to right around Colson’s chin. The director lifted you up, and then you were posing on top of the wall, bare legs soaking in the sun as Colson played with your hand, standing right below you.

For the first few shots, you looked out in the distance, trying not to catch his eyes. It had gotten intimidating to make eye contact, especially now that you were in the headspace of Juliet. After a couple of takes, you got pulled aside, softly told to “Act like you’re in love, dammit,” and then popped back up on the wall. 

Taking a breath, you steadied yourself as Colson put your palm in his, and made eye contact, softly smiling as he looked up at you. The pose felt like forever, eyes boring into each other, and then the director shouted, “Amazing! Ok next,” and you were being pulled down into the next area. 

-

A few solo photos later, they put you back on the wall. Colson stood in between your bare legs, leaning into you. His arms braced on either side of your hips. The close proximity made you nervous, and you let out a soft laugh as his hair brushed against your cheek.

“Shhh,” he whispered, barely moving his mouth. 

“You shhh,” you whispered back, leaning your shoulder against his.

 Instead of responding, he simply reached his hand over, putting it slightly over yours. Tapping his thumb against the back of your hand, he slowly moved it into a stroke and you pulled your legs together instinctively, forgetting he was in between them. 

You saw the smirk build in his face and you let out a breath, trying to not let him get to you. 

“What’s wrong,” he murmured, still moving his thumb agonizingly slow on your hand. Nudging him with your thigh, you tried to shut him up as the camera flashed. 

“Done. Okay, both of you. Take a break, go change. We need to get a few more shots in before the sun goes down,” the photographer shot out and you pushed Kells back a little, throwing him a grin before sauntering back to the studio. 

-

Switching into the green lingerie suit, you looked at yourself in the mirror. This one was a smaller one-piece and you glanced at your booty, making sure it looked good for the pictures. Pulling the suit up a little, you admired the way the lace cupped your boobs, perfectly covering your nipples. Picking up a towel from nearby, you wrapped it around before crossing back over to the mansion. 

Kells was standing there in the blue shirt from earlier, and you let out a laugh, seeing the perfect way it hung off of him. You reached up, adjusting his collar, smiling as you saw him gulp. 

“I think you look better in this,” you murmured, fingers delicately running right over his neck. 

Stepping back before he could respond, you took off your towel, putting it on the desk nearby. Turning back around, you saw his face, eyes eagerly running up and down your exposed body. 

“I think you’d look better in nothing,” he mumbled, hand rubbing at his chin. You felt yourself get warmer at his comment, and you threw a wink at him, before walking over to the director who was setting up a beautiful red car. 

“Game plan?” you asked, clapping your hands together. 

-

Ten minutes later, you were balancing on Kells’ thigh as he sat on the car’s hood. One leg hitched over him, the other extended as you stood straight. You pressed your torso against his, arching into him, throwing your head back so you could bare your neck. 

Placing both hands on his chest, you laughed as the director yelled at Colson, placing him into position. He wrapped a hand around your back and you felt yourself naturally lean into the touch. His other hand came to rest on your bare thigh, pressing in slightly, fingers barely there. He looked straight at you, and you feel your heartbeat pulse as the camera started clicking. 

“Y/N! Wrap your arms around his neck. Yes, now look right over at the camera,” came the shouts from the director. Colson pulled you closer, bringing the arm around your waist closer. He turned to face the camera too and you watched the director falter for a second before rushing over to take the picture. 

“Holy fuck! That was incredible,” she yelled from behind the screen, and you giggled, letting your head fall on his shoulder. 

-

“Y/n, you’re free to go for tonight,” the executive director said, pointing around the rest of the crew to pick up different set pieces. You nodded, grabbing your duffel bag as you turned to face her real quick, “Uh, what about Kells?” 

He was across the room, getting more eyeshadow dusted onto his cut, typing away on his phone. The director looked over at him, before looking at you, eager to get away with him. 

Rolling her eyes, she went, “Listen, I need him for a few more shots tonight, but he’ll be done in half an hour if you wanna hang around. I know Gina’s been dying to catch up with you.”

Grinning, you dropped your bag on the seat. Pulling your hair up into a ponytail, you walked past Colson to the hair station. Gina had been the first friend you’d made modeling and she was incredible at her job, a creative visionary when it came to not only styling hair, but keeping it protected when crazy things were happening too. 

Leaving the room, you heard Colson go, “Hey, wait where’s Y/N going?” and you smiled, knowing that you weren’t the only one feeling the heat building between the two of you. As you got out of earshot, you could still hear the director yelling, “Don’t get your panties in a twist!” and you almost walked smack into Gina herself, snickering at his panic. 

-

Half an hour later, you were clinging onto Gina’s words as she told you the latest horror story of a terrible famous client. She had broke out a bottle of rosé, sipping on bubbles while you picked at the platter of fruits you had stolen from the front desk. There was a knock on the door, and you hopped off of the counter, pulling it open. Kells stood there, back in his regular clothes, Converse knocking against each other as he stumbled a little. 

“Hey,” he mumbled. 

You lifted your cup up, taking another sip, raising your eyebrows, urging him to continue by nodding slightly. 

“So, I’m kinda stuck in the area for the next two days for this terrible photoshoot I’m doing with this horrible girl -” he started, and you interrupted him, choking on the rosé as it hit the back of your throat, laughing. 

“Sorry, uh, you were talking about this awful girl?” you continued, getting most of it out of your system. 

“Right, yeah. Would you wanna get dinner with me?” he finished, making that eye contact again, creating a warm fuzz in your tummy. 

“Yeah, yes. Yeah,” you blurted out, rosé and nerves rumbling within you. 

“You said that already,” he grinned as you went over to pick up your bag. 

“Shut up,” you grinned back, trying to hide your smile. 

“Bye Gins, I’ll catch you tomorrow,” you said, leaning in for a hug. Kissing your cheek, she whispered in your ear, “Get some please. I need to know, for science,” and you let out a belly-laugh before following Colson out the door as he waved goodbye. 

It was all in the name of science right? No harm, no foul.

[proudlylost]

My 6+1 favorite SPN fics: AU

After the SPN finale I kinda got sucked back into the fandom. The excessive amount of fanfiction reading ensued (I re-read all of my SPN fic favorites and then some) and I realised I have actually read quite a lot of them. So I thought I could share them, to highlight all the talented authors there is and also to gather all of my favorites into the one place. This post contain my favorite AU fics, the SPN universe edition of this fic rec can be found here.

Ninety One Whiskey by komodobits

“In the spring of 1944, the 104th Medical Battalion of the United States Army is disbanded, and its men reassigned to various infantry companies in preparation for their invasion of occupied France. For First Lieutenant Novak, this is less than helpful, as he has so far met his platoon’s designated medic a grand total of twice, and has both times found Sergeant Winchester to be the optimum combination of reckless, arrogant, and downright insufferable so as to make cohesive platoon function near impossible. When the time comes to move out, however, Castiel has to reconcile himself to the fact that men are going to go down and trust that Dean Winchester may well be the only person who can put them back together again. WW2 ETO infantry AU. “ 

READ! THIS! Well, there is some really disturbing war related and time period related stuff, but if you can stomach that, read it! Along with the Angel’s Wild, this is my favorite fanfiction. This fic is heart wrenching and so, so good.The characterization is on point. Historical accuracy is on point. Slow burn is on point. Everything is just perfect. However, as I said, this fic is heavy stuff. There is some serious angst (I cried. I almost never cry when reading) and trauma. But there is glimmers of hope, even if sometimes it feels hopeless. Expected recovery time: at least two weeks. Word Count:  401,183. Explicit

Angel’s wild by LimonadeGaby and riseofthefallenone

“But that’s the whole reason he’s here, isn’t it? He’s not out here hunting Humans. He’s not even hunting deer, or bears, or anything else that featured in Bambi. He’s out here, freezing his nuts off every night, because he’s hunting Angels.

Sometimes Dean wishes that Angels were like how they’re described in the Bible. How people from time too old for him to care much about thought Angels were messengers and warriors of God, protectors of Humans. He knows that how they’re really described in the Bible is actually pretty terrifying, but at least they were told by God that they’re supposed to love Humans, right?

That’s a thousand times better than what Angels really turned out to be.”

This was first longer fic that I read from Supernatural fandom and I fell in love. So this is “the fic that got me into the fandom” but I have read it multiple times since and it is still very, very good. I love everything about this fic. It is very original and the lore is amazing. I love how Dean and Cas are both quite young (in Cas’s case, relatively speaking) and how their love develops (slow burn! <3) I love how Cas is described and I love how he communicates (unintentionally) with flowers. You can also read this without having any knowledge of supernatural series (like I did) which is always impressive for a fic. Wor count:  389, 271. Explicit

For All You Young Hockey Players Out There, Pay Attention by thursdaysfallenangel

“Dean Winchester knows two things about hockey, two things his dad made sure he knew. One, hockey is a guy’s sport, and two, hockey is family. Hockey meant Sam and Bobby and Benny and Victor and Gabriel and hell, his entire team. So when Victor gets traded, Russian-star-turned-new-teammate Castiel Krushnic becomes a threat. As much as Dean hates him for that, the longer he sticks around, the more he begins to threaten that first rule too. Dean’s been taught his whole life that those who play hockey should not be captivated by deep accented voices and the way a guy handles his stick, so how the hell is he supposed to justify what he’s starting to think about Cas? All Dean wanted at the beginning of the season was to win, and now all he wants to do is figure out how he feels about Cas and how to deal with it without ruining his career and tearing his family apart. “

Ah, three of my absolute favourite things smashed into the same fic: sports, slow burn and enemies to lovers. This fic has lots of cameos from supernatural characters, because hockey teams require lots of players. So it is easy to spot your favorite character in this fic. This fic is probably one of may favorites, because of the sport environment (Outside the fandom, I have been super into sports. Like so much I have several national championships medals from my sport. Anyway, not a point here): also the sexual tension between Dean and Cas is so good, especially when they are pumped with the adrenaline. You don’t really need to understand sports to enjoy this fic, though. Word count:  143,592. Explicit

Formula Won by cardinalwrites

“Of all the places Castiel Novak thought he would take in his career, an internship as a Formula One Paddock Correspondent (or journalist, for short) was most definitely not one of them for a few reasons. One: He had no clue what the hell Formula One was. Two: He knew nothing about sports in general. And Three: He should not fall in love with the people he’s supposed to be asking hard-hitting questions to, least of all the head driver of one of the oldest and most well-renowned teams in the sport’s history.

This is a love story told around the world through the eyes of the person that knows the least about where he has found himself in. Come follow a 20-race season finding love in the lost, learning the truth, and figuring out what the hell Formula One is along the way.”

Another sports fic with a slow burn. This is probably not everyone’s cup of tea, because there is quite a lot information about formula one, and the reading experience is more enjoyable if already know about formulas/do your research. Don’t let it stop you though, because this fic is very good. The friendship between Dean and Cas is very natural, and later the romance as well. The plot is very engaging and the drama inside the formula one organization is so good. This fic is also not so “heavy” as the other ones in my list (of course, there are problems along the way, but even the fic’s tags say there will be fluff). The rating is T, which is kinda surprising, because I did not notice it until I already had read the whole fic. Word count: 123,777. Teen

Have Love, Will Travel by squeemonster

Castiel Novak is a reclusive writer with a childhood so tragic it's left him terrified to leave his home—until his overbearing brother, Gabriel, drags him out for a night on the town full of booze and strip clubs, and he encounters Dean Winchester, a mesmerizing and mysterious stripper with secrets of his own. Both men find themselves inexplicably drawn to each other, and soon Dean's private dances for Castiel become much more, as both men confess their troubles and find solace in each other's company. But neither can seem to find the courage to take their relationship further than the intimacy of the club's VIP Room—and just when Dean's own brother gives him the excuse he needs to finally admit his feelings, Dean discovers something that brings it all crumbling down. Will they find a way past their demons and their trust issues, and back to each other?

This is one of the fandom classics and quite rightfully so. Both Dean and Cas have issues, in other words: what’s new? The sexual chemistry between them was so good and well written, but there is also angst and mental health issues (mostly Cas). Sam is quite young in this fic, but manages to be very much a little brother. I honestly loved this fic when I was a bit younger, but I think it is still very good and deserves its place in this list. Word count  94,054. Explicit

Pick It All Up by thepinupchemist

Army veteran Castiel Novak is a wreck after his tour in Afghanistan, brought home to his brother's apartment in Lawrence, Kansas with scars both mental and physical. He copes poorly, and during one night of bad decision making, meets somebody just as much of a disaster as he is -- a prostitute named Dean Winchester. And suddenly, two damaged men might not be as irreparable as they believed.

Ah, it seems that I’m incapable of picking nice, fluffy, happy fanfics. This certainly is not one of them. There is full warnings in the tags, because there is some triggering stuff: PTSD, mentions of past abuse, alcoholism etc. But, this is also very healing story in its own way (It has happy ending. I guess I can spoil that because it reads in the tags) . I avoided this fic for a long time, because the prostitute!Dean tag scared me away, but this was so worth of reading (as I said, happy ending)! Gabriel is super supportive and sweet brother and Dean and Cas are dysfunctional but they work so well despite all the trauma they have endured. Word count:  126,611. Explicit

Bonus: Twist and Shout by gabriel and standbyme

What begins as a transforming love between Dean Winchester and Castiel Novak in the summer of 1965 quickly derails into something far more tumultuous when Dean is drafted in the Vietnam War. Though the two both voice their relationship is one where saying goodbye is never a real truth, their story becomes fraught with the tragedy of circumstance. In an era where homosexuality was especially vulnerable, Twist and Shout is the story of the love transcending time, returning over and over in its many forms, as faithful as the sea.

Well, I don’t think this fic needs any introductions. This is the fic, the most popular in SPN fandom and one of the most popular ones in the whole ao3. I thought that I could read this, because I don’t generally have many triggers, despite all the warnings. I was a wreck during reading. And I have managed to read it once and I can’t make myself read it again. But it is good and amazingly written. This fic plucks every emotion out of you and does anything it pleases with them. You have been warned. Word count:  97,556. Explicit

(When I wrote this fic rec I also realised I have a serious problem with long fics. Like, most of my favorites are at least 100,000 words. At this point I think I don’t even consider a fic to be slow burn, unless it takes several days to complete the fic. Oops)

[internalsealpanic]

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

- 🔺:)

Since you put so many stars I'm gonna do a bunch of scenes from the fic

(for this ask game)

It was easiest to just tell Tim all the facts rather than rely on the goodwill you've built in 3 years to persuade him.

I was actually pretty stuck on how to write this fic. I knew I wanted to write Tim and Reader urban exploring for a really long time and this is actually the specific kind of fic I've been dying to write awhile now. Hilariously enough what jumpstarted the entire fic was your manipulation HCs. I freaking loved them and it made me want to write Reader trying to manipulate Tim. I like Reader characters with very gray moral lines or a very necessity based moral compass. I think this kind of reader really fits into the setting but they're slowly getting corrupted by Tim *cackles*

People say it was an abomination (An unidentifiable, Tim corrected but you still think abomination captured the appropriate dramatic for that.)

This part I actually kind of like because this series gives me so much opportunity to fuck around with diction and vernacular of people from not only different classes but also different geographical backgrounds. Tim and Reader were written specifically so I could explore this weird effect of having education not be completely available to the public. Reader's perspective on these creatures is less clinical which has them rely upon superstition and folklore to interpret what is in front of them while Tim who gets more accurate information or gets a less dispersed version.

You highly doubt Bludhaven was in any shape to contain whatever it is ravaging sector 4-D. After all, it wasn't in any better shape than Gotham was at the moment. You doubt it's ever been in better shape. They're like two cities constantly caught in this vortex of awfulness, looking at each other from two different sides thinking 'poor bastards'.

I am not 100% certain of the canonical relationship between Gothamites and People in Bludhaven but this just sounds funny.

Sector 4-D was an easy hunting ground where young scavengers got their feet wet before they could move on.

I like the idea of more reputable guilds in the world forcefully partnering up scavenger veterans with youngins to make sure they can safely learn the ropes and not die immediately. The starting age varies wildly per organization but the oldest starting is 17 and the youngest is 12. This is at least what the records say. It's easy enough to lie when record-keeping is shit.

Appealing to the guy's sense of responsibility was kind of cheating

Small nod to Tim's motivation to become Robin :)

A building full of books and most importantly, medical textbooks.

Not a lot of books or even research material survived the nearly century-long span between the start of the pandemic and the present day. This was mostly due to people trying to take care of things on their own (setting fire to each other) and general distrust towards authority figures. This is me ranting about current state of affairs.

You try to push down the number of zeroes the man had shown you as you zip past a rusted sign.

There is currency in this world but it's decentralized and useless unless you're A) in Gotham and B) hoping to use it when bargaining with the government. Reader is hoping to use the money for something however it sadly won't help with daily expenses.

Besides, all the other people who won't stab you after cashing in the reward probably don't know half as many words as Tim so you'll definitely need him to get the right books.

My failed attempt at subtly nodding to Reader's illiteracy.

You stare at the rows of cars before you. They're overrun with weeds and vines and rust. A stark reminder that your Gotham is just a fraction of what it had been. You stop your bike in front of a taxi with a faded yellow body.

Reason I like post-apocalypse aus: ruined cities. I live the aesthetic of old abandoned buildings as nature starts to reclaim.

At least not when you checked but you really don't wanna gamble your Scavenger's license on clerical errors by either of your guilds.

I have so many stupid notes on this one occupation

Tim steps out of the sidecar, careful not to jostle Basil in his bag. You want to point out that you should probably wake the cat up otherwise you were wasting food on him but you knew better than to expect cooperation from Tim's furball from hell.

No commentary I just love Basil.

“The one that involves the least aliens.” You pause, narrowing your eyes at Tim whose hand is currently being eaten by his cat. “Or alien adjacent things.”

I was half tempted to prove reader wrong.

Grade A my ass, you think staring at the furball nipping at his knuckles.

The cats given to guild members have different rankings based on how capable they are in detecting and attacking/hunting the creatures. Grade A is supposed to be top of the line. Reader thinks Tim's been scammed.

“Maybe,” you tilt your head, “or maybe the people from before were just idiots.”

I am describing myself.

The skittering voices rise like the fluttering of locust wings.

[The scene where the monster appears]

Absolutely freaking love this scene because I am a huge fan of body horror and I started off writing horror. I had to look up just the right words to describe the vibe I got from Mask Face in Spirited Away. I wanted to creep people out as much as Tim and Reader were creeped out. I also wanted to make the disease's effects more monstrous so that the mythological stuff it inspires sounds more plausible. This creature is likely to reappear.

You splay a hand on Tim’s chest, pushing him back lightly.

Brain screamed: protective gesture.

It blinks at you.

It. Blinks. At. *You.*

Due to the mostly nocturnal nature of the infected fauna, most of them are blind, so this development is horrifying. It's like when Texas Chainsaw Massacre set its horrors in the daylight. They've now been robbed of another safety measure.

"For the record, I hate your plans." You say, gagging.

"What was yours?" Tim fires back, dusting his hair.

"..."

"Just what I thought."

I love sassy Tim :)

Tim doesn't respond.

You pull your hand away and it’s slick with blood.

*Cackles*

[jimlingss]

The Colour of Our Voices [Finale]

Chapter 17 - Chapter 18 [Finale]

➜ Words: 6.9k

➜ Genres: 98% Fluff, 2% Angst, Slice of Life, Broadway!AU

➜ Summary: He wasn’t supposed to hear. He wasn't supposed to know. But the instant Jimin came into your life and pulled the curtains back, you couldn't hide backstage anymore. You were no longer merely a phantom of the opera.

cr.

You and Jimin exchange grins and laughter.   There’s no one on this planet happier to see the two of you together than Taehyung.   “Thank god.” He’s relieved to see Jimin beside you to the point where he looks like he's about to cry. “Does this mean you’re on board with me here, Park? Or are you going to make me beg you.”   “I’m on board, Director Kim.” Jimin grins and Taehyung laughs.   “I’m liking the sound of that.” He claps his hands together. “Then let’s get started, shall we? We’ve wasted too much time already.”

It’s a dive straight into the deep end without warning.   Taehyung gets you both involved in the whole production process, practically becoming his assistants. He always asks for your input, from costume design to stage props, wanting everything to be perfect and needing opinions. You’ve never been so involved in a show before, but you love every second of it.   Taehyung also assembles together a dream team — the choreographer, casting director, and creative team.   “What’s the story about?”   But tonight it’s just you three seated on Taehyung’s living room floor, fried chicken set up in the middle and scripts in your lap, flipping the pages with greasy fingers.    “What do you think it’s about?”   He throws the question back around, and Jimin hums a low note. “It focuses a lot on the female Broadway actress. She seems to be really...cynical.”   “And burnt out,” you add while flipping to a portion you highlighted after reading it through once. “She finds performing boring.”   “Exactly.” Taehyung bites into a drumstick, chewing it in his cheek. “After years of doing the same thing, she’s lost all inspiration. Until…”   “He comes along,” you say and he nods.    The male lead is hopeful, overly optimistic and even overbearing at times. But the two of them fall in love slowly, going through trials, inspiring one another, and adding more vibrant colours to their voices.   You consider the story and characters carefully, brooding over days to come. You’re still deliberating how you want to interpret and embody this character — you’ve never played a character like this before and she seems quite different from who you actually are.    “Hey, Jimin,” you interrupt him in the dressing room one day. His eyes lift off his paper at the sound of your voice and he smiles. “Do you think I have it in me to be mean?”   Jimin laughs boyishly. “Is that why you’ve been so stressed?”   “I’m not stressed.” You sigh, putting down your script. “I’ve just been thinking a lot about how I want to do this, and I don’t know if I have it in me.”   “Don’t worry, you have it in you.”   You scoff. “Okay, what’s that supposed to mean?”   “What?” Jimin giggles, ducking his head.   “You sound so certain like you didn’t need to think about it.” You pout at him, quirking your head to one side. “I’m not mean.”   The brunette merely shrugs, continuing to tease, “You can be inside. Everyone thinks you’re all timid and shy, but I know you. You’re like dynamite. You just...blow up sometimes, if you get upset enough. Hey, don’t give me that look — it’s not a bad thing. It’s kind of endearing. And everyone has a limit, so it’s natural.”   “Don’t call my anger endearing,” you snap at him, sounding more like Yeonjeon than intended. The actress was rubbing off on you in the worst ways — and you’re sure she’d be proud of it if she knew.   But it makes Jimin laugh and he pounds his chest with a fist. “Try.”   “Try what?”   “Being mean. Try being the experience Broadway madame.”   “Okay. Don’t make fun of me,” you warn him with narrowed eyes, and he promises he won’t.   You clear your throat, deciding to walk away from him. He frowns momentarily, confused but eyes glimmering in amusement as he watches you. And you enter the dressing room again, pushing the curtains aside haphazardly.    You’re no longer Y/N — you’ve become a cynical, veteran Broadway star.   “What do you think you’re doing?!” you bark at him, and immediately, Jimin cracks a smile. You forcefully furrow your brows, hissing, “Are you laughing, Park?”   You approach in three wide strides with your arms crossed, pretending you have those three inch heels on that are infamous for your character.   “No,” Jimin mutters in an attempt to be timid, but you see the twitch of his facial muscles.   You grab the collar of his shirt in a fistful, crinkling the fabric underneath your force. And you pull him forward roughly. “How dare you. Do you know who I am?”   You connect his eyes with yours, feigned anger wafting off of you. You don’t realize that your mouths are mere inches apart, that he can feel your warm breath skim against his skin, that his heart stutters in his chest.   “Wake up, Park.” Your other hand lifts, lightly hitting on his cheek as if you’re helping him become alert again. “Not everything is beautiful and great in life.”   Then suddenly, his arm raises. Jimin’s palm cups the back of your hand that’s pressed against his cheek. He searches your expression affectionately as silence comes across the room.   Your eyes soften — while his flickers down to your mouth. He stares at your lips if he were hungry to taste them. You swallow hard. In one second, it’s become too intimate, the air heavy.   “J-Jimin…”   You’ve broken character with your whimper, and with the call of his name, Jimin snaps back to focus. He lets go, stepping back to put that comfortable distance between the two of you again.    Just like that, the warmth of his body is gone.   “S-Sorry. Yeah, that was good. Not too bad.”   “Thanks.”   It’s not clear what you and Jimin are. He’s more than a neighbour and colleague. Less than a boyfriend. Perhaps he could be compared as a friend that you have unspoken affections for.   The pair of you agreed to keep things friendly for the time being, to ease your way into things, and not to rush and make another mistake. But at the moment, it’s hard to decipher what’s right and what’s wrong. It’s difficult to know where the exact line is, where the boundary shouldn’t be crossed.   Although, you both mutually understand that there are still lots of feelings attached to both your gestures. Your relationship with Jimin isn’t exactly platonic and you don’t think it could ever revert that way.   You’re mulling over it so deeply, you don’t notice the crosswalk turned red….    Until you’re pulled back.   “Hey!”   You spin around, eyes wide. It’s as if you summoned him to appear in front of you, that thinking about him so much made him materialize. “Jimin?”   “Watch we’re you’re going,” he scolds with that knot formed between his brows.   “S-sorry.” The cars rush past the street. You’re at a loss for words. “What are you doing here?”   “Did you forget we live in the same building?” His chin motions to the brownstone at the end of the other block. You don’t realize his hand is still encircling your wrist. For Jimin, it’s too natural to hold onto you and for you, it’s too natural to be held by him. “We must’ve gotten on the same subway train but on different carts.”   “Oh.”    The evening sun is peeking its last rays from above the high rise buildings, and it casts yellow glow onto his skin. You’re mesmerized at how he looks in the golden hour.   “What were you thinking about?”   “Nothing.”   “Well, you should be more careful. Taehyung wouldn’t be happy if you got run over. Neither would I.”   The both of you end up walking together up across the street, down the block, up the stairway, and down the same hallway. Your footsteps sync together.    “What are your plans for tonight?” he asks with no real implication behind his voice, simply making conversation.    “Nothing much. You?”   “Probably just dinner and then maybe a movie or something.” Jimin halts in front of his door, and you stop in front of yours. The boy hesitates as he glances at you. “Do you...want to come in and join me? Promise my pasta recipe’s improved.”   You wonder what it’ll mean to follow after him, to accept his invitation, if that’s crossing the boundary of what’s appropriate.   But you don’t think about it twice to consider what you really want.    “I hope it’s delicious.”   Jimin grins as you follow after him.

“Hey, Taehyung.” He stops the busy man mid-step who’s startled from suddenly being called. “You know when you were asking me about the marketing stuff for the production and the posters?”   “Yeah?”   “I think….you should make the posters purple and orange. Kind of like a split diagonal thing of both colours.” Jimin’s not sure what he’s saying, mumbling away as he scratches the back of his neck. “Like it would morph together. It would look cool, and it’s kind of meaningful to Y/N and I.”   “Okay.” Taehyung softens and takes the suggestion to heart. “I’ll make a note of it.”

It’s two months into the production when casting calls happen.   It’s surreal to sit at a table and discuss who you’d like in the show, what kind of person you’re looking for. You used to be on the other side, hoping and praying you’d get a call back — but now you’re the one deciding who to contact. You could potentially change any of these people’s lives.   “What about her?” Shihyuk, one of the producers, passes a girl’s headshot and application around as the rest of you are narrowing down the people who applied. “She’s pretty.”   “She is,” Taehyung agrees, “But she struggled to sing the mezzo part. What do we think?”   “No.” Jimin shakes his head.   Taehyung looks at you for your opinion and you agree with Jimin. “If she can’t sing then it’s a no for me too.”   Shihyuk offers the next application in the thick pile. “What about this person? I saw the video she sent in. She seemed really nervous. Hit some notes well, but her voice cracked at other parts. I really can’t tell if she can actually perform or not.”   “Well, it doesn’t look like she’s had much experience,” Taehyung notes at a glance. “What do you think, Y/N?” After all, the character you’re casting for is the female lead’s best friend. Taehyung’s relying heavily on your input for this one considering she’d be performing with you the most.   You hum. “I think we should give her a call and see for ourselves.”   In the middle of discussions of how the vision of the show could be executed, listening to demos, adjusting parts of the script, costume design, meeting with the creative team and producers, there’s two full days set aside purely for auditions.    “Think of me, think of me fondly when we’ve said goodbye.” The girl gestures wildly and inhales a deep breath before she sings, “Remember me, once in a while, please promise me you’ll try. Then you’ll find—”   Once finished, she does a dramatic bow. “Thank you.”   Taehyung gets her to read a few lines, and after she leaves, there’s a brief discussion.   “I think she’s great.” Shihyuk makes his opinion known at once.   “She was alright.” Jimin shrugs. “A bit overwhelming.”   Taehyung jots the notes down and looks up at you.    You nod slowly. “I think she was okay.”   The next person is called in and you recognize the girl that enters from her headshot — except, her shoulders are seemingly slugging compared to her picture and she’s dragging her feet.   “H-Hi. My name is Boyoung. P-Park Boyoung.” She stumbles over with copies of her application in hand. She begins to distribute them out, but Taehyung lifts his hand to stop her.   “It’s alright. We already have copies.”   “O-oh, okay.” Boyoung takes them back, muttering apologies like she just killed someone on accident. Once she collects them again, she clumsily trips on her feet and the white papers spill across the carpet, coating it in white. Shihyuk audibly sighs. “I’m so, so sorry.”   “It’s okay.” You smile at her, and the girl swallows hard with a firm nod. She composes herself, gets her papers again, and stands in the center of the room.   “What will you be performing today?” Jimin asks.   “‘There’s Music In You’ from Cinderella.” Her eyes light up as she says it. As if recalling something, Boyoung staggers towards the piano accompanist in the corner. She shuffles her belongings and gives him the appropriate sheet music.   “Alright, you can start whenever you want.”   Boyoung bobs her head furiously and grips the hem of her sweater. “Beyond the voice—” Her voice cracks. She visibly winces. Shihyuk raises his hand to stop the pianist.   “You’re off key.”   “I’m so sorry! Please give me another chance—”   “Hey,” you interrupt, smiling softly. “It’s okay. Take your time, okay? I promise none of us are going to kill you.”   Taehyung looks over at you with a grin. “You can’t promise that. I might just lunge over the table and kill someone one day.”   You give Taehyung an unamused expression while Jimin laughs. “If he kills you, we’ll make sure we kill him.”   The girl is eased from banter and relaxes with a small smile. She starts again. “Beyond the voice that keeps insisting “no”. There is something more than doubting. Breaking through the darkness. Something that sets your heart a glow. Someone wants you. You know who. Now you’re living—there’s music in you…”   Eventually, she finishes her song and releases a shaky breath. Some notes were sung uncertainly, but she has a good voice and tone overall. “Thank you,” she says and practically runs out of the room right away.   There’s silence and you lean back.    “Well, I like her.”   Shihyuk looks at you live you’ve gone insane, but Taehyung grins. “Good.”   //   You get off the elevator to the main lobby, glancing at your phone before pocketing it. You’re about to push open the front door, but you hear a quiet voice from the girl lingering right by. “Miss. Y/N?”   You recognize the short, dark-haired female. “Boyoung, right?”   “Yes. That’s me.” She gives a reserved smile.   “You don’t need to call me miss. Just Y/N is fine,” you tell with a smile and she nods timidly. “Is there something you wanted...?”   “I-I just...wanted to thank you for giving me a chance. If it weren’t for you, I would’ve messed up my audition completely.”   “Oh, it’s not a problem.” You casually bat your hand in the air. “ Trust me, it’s a lot more scary to be up there singing when a bunch of strangers are watching you. I just wanted to let you know that we weren’t mean or going to judge you negatively right off the bat.”   Boyoung bobs her head and your stare softens. “Keep practicing, alright? You’re really good, so don’t give up.”   The girl bows her head, eyes teary. “Thank you. It means a lot coming from you.”    You smile, feeling a sense of nostalgia. You remember when you were just like her — when you couldn’t sing a single note in front of anyone who wasn’t Jimin. You remember the way your hands used to shake in the spotlight, how your palms became clammy, sweat built at your forehead. You can recall the way your heart would pick up its speed, that fear that overwhelmed you and kept your voice from coming out. It feels so long ago but you remember it well.

Lately, you seem to be reminiscent of the past.    You always thought someday you'd look back in disdain. But instead, it's a bitter-sweetness that you feel most often when your mind takes a trip down memory lane. Sure, that time period was when you struggled to make ends-meet, to make yourself known, and you allowed yourself to be stepped on as a result. But those days were arguably free and ignorant. They were days when you would commute with Jimin to work and the two of you would be involved in each other's antics, making mischief in between sweeps and coffee runs. It was back when you were just best friends keeping each other company.   There were plenty of good days in between the bad.   “Director Kang?”   You squint, and the person ahead of the line turns around.    The stout man's gotten older since you've last seen him, hair no longer black but marked with streaks of gray. His eyes are wide and he still has a loud, booming voice. “Y/N.”   Once upon a time, you hated the man so much you often dreamed about smashing his head with a brick — you’re so glad that you didn't. You’re no longer filled with hatred. All your resentments have faded away with time.   He looks at you from the corner of his eye and you smile at him, sipping on your coffee as he waits for his at the station. The director clears his throat and grunts. “I heard you're in an original production.”   “Yes, Jimin and I are working together with Director Kim.”   He makes a noise at the back of his throat. “And how is it going? Do you know what you're doing?”   “Kind of. It's a bit hectic, but fun. A lot of work.”   “As expected,” he mutters passive aggressively. “Shows require a lot of work.”   You nod. “I heard the Phantom production is retiring.”   The older man sighs and finally gets his coffee from the barista. But he doesn’t try to escape your presence at the chance. He lingers with you in the shop, sipping on his hot drink with his eyes faraway. “It was bound to be over anyways.”   Looks like he knew it too. You guess he wasn’t completely aloof to his own production or ignorant from hubris. “Do you know what the others are doing?”   “Taeyeon's taking up modeling. She signed with some fancy company here in New York. And Seokjin — he got accepted into Hollywood.”   “Wow.” There're not better places they could be, especially for Seokjin. With a godly face like his — he shouldn't fade into obscurity. “What about you? Do you have any plans, sir?”   “I'm going on an unpaid sabbatical.” Director Kang smiles after sipping his drink again. “I have enough money to go see the world. Never got a chance to before, y'know? Now's the time.”   There’s a bit of small talk made on his travel plans before you get a text on your phone from Jimin asking where you are. You hitch a thumb over your shoulder. “I should probably head out now.”   “Oh, okay.” The older man waves you away, dismissing you — a force of habit after many years.   “It was nice seeing you, Director Kang.”   He grunts, and you walk away. But then he calls out—   “Intern!” You turn around. The director gives a nod of acknowledgment. “Good work.”   You grin at him, laughter bubbling out of your parted lips. The older man smiles.   //   “Give me a chance. Let me show you the world.” Jimin sings, vigorous and determined.   You scoff, spinning around with your arms crossed to glare. “I've already seen the world.”   “Not the way I have.”   The music begins on the stereo, violin strings pulling together in a slow romantic crescendo.    You both continue the duet, gazing at one another. But halfway through, it becomes too much so you divert your eyes, focusing on the lyrics. Eventually the song dies out and there’s a round of applause around the room that surprises you. On the other hand, while Taehyung gives a thumbs up, you know from the look of his face he's not completely satisfied.   Like the perfectionist he’s become, Taehyung pulls you two into his office when there's a moment to spare.   “Was there something wrong?” your brunette partner beside you asks.   “I only started working on it last night,” you add, not wanting Jimin to be blamed for you slacking.   But the boy becomes alarmed and steps forward. “It's not Y/N's fault. I didn't start practicing this until the beginning of this week — I was working on my solo…”   Taehyung’s jaw drops. “You guys only started this recently?!”   “Well…”   “Uh.”   You exchange looks. Taehyung shakes his head. “Look, frankly, the duet wasn't an issue. It was good, really good, your voices were super beautiful blended together. Especially if this is one of the first few rehearsals for it. The problem is there's not enough....” Taehyung makes wild gestures, struggling to find the words. “...chemistry. At least not like in the original production of When Summer Meets Winter. There's just this 'pow' that's missing. Do you guys get what I'm saying? Am I making any sense or am I going crazy here?”   You look at one another before nodding at Taehyung. “No, we get it.”   The pair of you are not as close as you were back then — that much is clear. “Okay, good. Then I want you both to figure it out and work on it. Somehow. Someway. If that requires bonding activity or more practice or more talking. I have so many things to do, can I trust you two will work on it and keep me updated?”   “Yeah, sure.” Jimin smiles and when he glances at you for reassurance, your own lips lift. “We can do it.”   But you’re not exactly sure what that entails or what he has in mind. You don’t know how to close the distance that’s been set between you and Jimin, how to cross that boundary. But you both did it once before — you can do it again.   “So…” You swallow hard. “How do you want to approach this homework assignment?”   Jimin grins, teasing, “You’re calling our bonding time homework?”   The sly bastard relishes in your flustered expression. “Well if it isn’t homework then what is it?”   He doesn’t answer your question and just gives you a knowing look. “How about dinner tonight?”   “O-okay.”   He’s bold, surprisingly so. Though you don’t mind in the least bit and Jimin’s grin widens.   “Sounds like a plan.”   //   The warm restaurant is dim with candlelights, intimate conversations and laughter — especially at your own table where the food’s long gotten cold. You both forget to eat and only remember where you are when the waitress stops by to fill up your glass of water.   “—back to town.”   “Oh, I haven’t seen Namjoon in so long. Ever since he…”   “Took your headshots.”   “God, that must’ve been over a year ago. I thought he was only supposed to go for a few months.”   You shrug, not sure yourself. “Namjoon tends to get side-tracked. He probably went to neighbouring countries to take pictures.”   “That’s so cool.” Jimin’s eyes glimmer in genuine admiration. “Did he say how traveling was?”   “No.” You shake your head. “I’m planning to go see him soon. He always gets me snacks when he goes abroad, plus I need to update my own headshots.” Your eyes sparkle as you smile and Jimin laughs.   “Does he mind taking headshots?”   “Nah. We’re long time friends, plus I’m sure he’s really curious about a bunch of things that have happened recently, he’s been emailing me for months now asking about yo— never mind.”   “What?” Jimin gives a shit eating grin, egging you on, “He’s been asking about me?”   You glare before it melts into a sad pout. “Namjoon’s just a fan of you.”   “Who isn’t?” he chimes mischievously.   You lightly scoff. “Guess you’re not wrong there.”   “So you agree with me?” Jimin’s irises glisten in the yellow flame, outright shameless as he fishes for more compliments. He wants you to say it out loud properly.   You loll your head. “Yes, Park Jimin. You’re amazing. Happy?”   “Very. Do you have any other praise you’ve been dying to give me?”   “A ton.” You give him a look that rouses more laughter and your voice continues to be loaded with sarcasm, “You’re the best. There’s so much I’ve been meaning to tell you — I missed you and this so much.”   It goes quiet. Jimin’s smile softens into something more sincere. “I missed you too.”   He gazes at you. It quickly becomes too much, too intense, and you look elsewhere.   Even if you don’t say it, he knows you missed him equally as much.   After dinner, you walk together and spontaneously decide to go to an improv show like the old days. This time, you have no reservations about sitting in the front rows and you’re no longer fearful of being called upon.    You enjoy the performance wholeheartedly, especially when the improv actor Hoseok pulls Jimin up for a brief segment and you watch him make a fool of himself.    You’re still giggling even when it’s all over.   “You should’ve seen the look on your face!”   Jimin points at you. “Hey, I tried my best!”   You wipe the tears that have formed at the corner of your eyes. “God, I should’ve taken a picture.”   The two of you are stumbling on the streets together, underneath the darkened night sky, and the dim post lamps that cast a warm glow on his skin. The night is calm. You listen to the sound of cars rushing past in the far-off roads. It’s not so noisy as it is soft background noise.   “You can take a picture now.”   “Yeah, but it’s not the same.”   “Cause I’m missing my horrified expression?”   “Yes,” you giggle.   Your footsteps sync together, and Jimin steals a glance at you before looking ahead again. And when the back of your hand accidentally brushes against his, you don’t flinch or move away.   “Can I...hold your hand?” he asks quietly. Timidly.   You faintly smile to yourself. “Yeah.”   Almost instantaneously, your palms clasp one another’s. You knit your fingers between his and Jimin gives a tender squeeze. His body is warm and it helps to heat your cheeks.    “Sorry.” You steal a glimpse of him before diverting your vision away. “My hands are cold.”   “No, it’s okay.” There’s a moment of silence as you walk hand in hand as if it always should’ve been that way. Jimin’s steps gradually slows and you stop with him. On the corner of some unfamiliar boulevard, underneath a lamp post, he stares. Hesitance comes off of him in waves. He swallows hard. “Y/N, can I kiss you?”   There’s a beat of quiet.   You answer him with a nod. One more enthusiastic than necessary.   Jimin grins, leaning in slowly. He lets go of your hand to find purchase on your waist, and the other cradles your cheek. His half-lidded eyes flicker down to your lips, the tip of his tongue peeking to lick at the seam of his own mouth.   Your breath hitches, foreheads graze, noses bumping slightly. But you tilt your head and draw in towards him to gingerly kiss his lips. Your lashes flutter against his before you close your eyes to indulge in him. It’s slow and soft, full of hesitance like it’s the first time he’s touching you. Your brain melts and all you can think about is how nice his velvet lips feel against yours.   You exhale a breath, and Jimin’s about to pull away, but you deepen it. You tug him in closer by his coat, desperately, anxiously. Trying to feel more of him. Trying to keep him here. Jimin moans against your mouth and angles his head, tongue intruding to taste your lips. The force he presses against your mouth makes you stumble back, whimper, but he holds you as your back hits against the brick wall.   Jimin’s arms lift to cage you in and you’re surrounded in his scent. Surrounded in everything that is undeniably Jimin. Soft smacking fills the chilly air, but you don’t feel cold with his hot breath on you.   Quickly, the soft kiss turns hungry and earnest, as if he’s trying to prove something. His kiss means more — words turned into actions, like he’s trying to show you reasons why you should stay with him, as if it’s a plea to keep you by his side.    You missed this.   And when the pair of you part away, the thin string of saliva breaks apart from between you both. You swallow hard, mouths swollen, chests heaving and catching your breaths.   Jimin stares at you like you’re the only one that matters. “I’m still in love with you,” he tells. “Very much so and I know I will be for the rest of my life.”   Tears prick at your eyes. “I love you too.”   “The best thing that I’ve ever done in this life was becoming your neighbour and knocking on your door that day.” Jimin’s body presses against yours and he smiles. “I’d do it again.”   You laugh, giggling, searching his eyes as your own soften. “I’m glad I opened that door for you, Park Jimin.”

After nearly four months of being extensively involved in the production process, two months filled with casting and rehearsals, the day has arrived after one hectic dress rehearsal.    And Taehyung could not look any happier.   While things might not be absolutely flawless, what matters is he’s happy with the effort put forth no matter the outcome.   “So this was all you?”   Yeonjeon’s shown up in one of the front row seats she paid for herself. She threw out the ticket you got her when she decided it was too far back for her liking. And she’s excessively done up, dressed in a glamorous form-fitting dress. The actress is a sight for sore eyes.    “Well, I had lots of help, but it was all my idea.”   “Not bad, Kim.” Yeonjeon hums. “You’ve made it far from being a little assistant.”   “Should’ve been nice to me when you had the chance,” Taehyung teases, bumping into her shoulder playfully and making her scowl.   “I’m not late, am I?” A taller, awkward man comes bumbling over. He pushes his glasses up the slope of his nose.    Immediately, Yeonjeon checks him out from top to bottom and her eyes become rounded.   “Who is this?” The Broadway actress bats her lashes, voice pitching up.   Taehyung grins. “This is Namjoon. He’s Y/N and Jimin’s friend.”   “Nice to meet you.” Yeonjeon extends her hand, but Namjoon hesitates to take it.   “N-Nice to meet you too. Sorry, I’m really sweaty, I ran—”   “Nonsense.” She shakes his hand, grip firm, and she tilts her head while her eyes glimmer in the lights. “You look great and trust me, I was running late too, so no worries.”   Taehyung holds back a laugh — he knows for a fact that Yeonjeon was an hour earlier than she needed to be. But whatever she’s trying to do, it’s working. Namjoon is seemingly flustered, eyes wide. His breath stutters and he manages a wordless nod.    Taehyung swears he sees a spark.   Another friend of Jimin soon shows up — Jeon Jungkook — that Taehyung recognizes from brief encounters in the past. Yeonjeon, on the other hand, is thoroughly less excited to meet him. Especially when he doesn’t recognize who she is.   “We worked together.” Yeonjeon’s smile becomes stiffer.   “We did?”   “In a commercial”   “Huh.” Jungkook’s doe eyes blink. “I don’t recall.”   Taehyung would expect a cat fight, mostly one-sided, but Yeonjeon paints on a pretty smile with Namjoon here and is civil for the time being. “Guess I just don’t make strong enough impressions.”   Yeonjeon continues making Namjoon nervous with her excessive flirting. The man is whipped for her already and playing right into the palm of her hand much to her liking, but he’s a sweetheart that Yeonjeon appears to find endearing.    Jungkook, on the other hand, is seemingly not impressed with being the third wheel and relies on Taehyung to make it less awkward. The actor talks to him about how excited he is to see his friend and how he hasn’t been to many Broadway shows — though eventually Taehyung has to excuse himself from the conversation to go backstage one last time.   “Alright folks, are we ready?”   “Ready!”   And eventually when the curtains draw and the music begins, your eyes meet Jimin’s. You gaze at one another, hands interlaced, giving a comforting squeeze, and you step out together.   The spotlight shines on both of you.

[Epilogue]   The moving truck wakes you.   It’s deafening. You can hear the slow ‘beep, beep, beep’ of the vehicle backing up. It snaps you out of your trance, bringing back your attention and you look away from the apartment complex. It was never terribly luxurious — nothing that you had envisioned when you were moving to iconic New York. But it’s cozy, a good five floors, classic brick on the side of a quiet street. And for so many years of your life, it was home.   There are messy boxes littering the hall, the door wide open, and the living space suddenly empty. You feel sad somehow, but you continue to pack the last of your belongings and the small knick-knacks you almost forgot. All while trying your best not to cry.   “Alright, do you want me to take this too, boss?” the moving truck guy asks, pointing to one of the last cardboard boxes on the floor.   “Yes, please.”   He’s about to take it, but hesitates. “Umm, excuse me, boss. You’re L/N Y/N, right?” You slowly nod, wondering why he’s asking, and then he smiles. “I thought I recognized you! Can I please get your autograph?”   The corners of your mouth quirk. “Sure.”   The man grabs his clipboard off the kitchen counter and flips the paper to the blank side. “My sister’s a huge fan.”   “Tell her I said thank you.” You sign the paper with your name, all loops and lines, leaving a small message as well.   “No, thank you. Honestly, it’s an honour.” The man beams at you, starstruck. The reaction is still hard to get used to, but he quickly takes your autograph and grabs the box. “I-I’ll just take this downstairs, Miss Y/N.”   He shuffles out, but steals a glance over his shoulder. You should probably offer to take a picture with him, but you’ll do that later.    For now, you want to linger a bit more in the place you spent so much time in.   You step out onto the cold balcony to lean on the railing. And you savour the view.   You can still remember how you felt when you arrived in New York — to say you were excited to be here was a severe understatement. It was your dream. You couldn’t believe you were standing here in the city. It was absolutely surreal.   It still is your dream, but you’ve largely achieved what you wanted and you love every moment of it.   Your thoughts interrupted by a sweet, purple tone. “Thought I’d find you out here.”   The timing is perfect.   You turn to find Jimin and you smile. He embraces you, arms looped around your midsection, holding you from behind. You lean into him as the two of you stare out at the city. “Why do I feel so sad?”   “It’s the nostalgia,” he hums, feeling it too. He has been for the last whole week. “I’m gonna miss this place.”   It’s the place where you met him.   “H-hello?”    “H-Hi. I...I just….” He tapped his ear, trying to explain himself. “I thought I heard…heard....never mind.” Jimin hitched his thumb over his shoulder and awkwardly tilted his body. “I just moved in.”   “Y-Yeah. I saw this morning.”   “So…it’s-uh-nice to meet you, I guess. I mean I don’t guess because it is great to meet you. I swear I’m not usually like this. What I mean is usually I’m not so direct. And, um, bad at speaking. We’ll be neighbors from now on. So I wanted to say hello, since usually, that’s the polite thing to do. Or at least what my mom tells me. She’s great. My mom. But right, I didn’t even tell you my name. My bad. I’m Park Jimin.”    It’s the place where you spent countless nights together and apart.   “Instant noodles aren't that great for your throat,” you said as you blew on the noodles out on the balcony. “Or for your health for that matter. You need to keep your voice healthy which means you need to drink water, warm up, and know your limits.”   He nodded, cheekful of ramen as he scribbled down the notes that were placed on his lap.   “You can ruin your voice if you strain it long term. It happens to a lot of singers if you compare to how they sang when they were young and when they got older. Smoking of course is out of the question. An orchestra player has to take care of their instruments. Broadway performers have to take care of their voices.”   “Yes, ma’am.”   It’s the place where you fell in love with each other.   “Don’t worry too much. I think you’ll manage, even if it’s hard. You’re a triple threat, Jimin. Singing, dancing, acting, that’s all the basic requirements.”   He smiled, peeking at you through his lashes. “You think I’m good enough at singing?”   “Getting there.”   “What about you? You said you don’t dance well.”   “Well, I don’t really sing or act either.”   He clicked his tongue in annoyance. “I don’t know if you’re being humble or you’re such an idiot that you’re unaware of your own talents—”   “Did you just call me an idi—”   “—because your voice is probably one of the best I’ve heard in real life. Like, you’re just naturally good at singing. I’d pay any amount to watch you perform.”   It’s meaningful. The four walls of your apartment and his — they’ve heard you talk, fight, yell, sing, your whispers of your affections. A part of you thought you’d be here forever. But you’re also glad that you’re not — it’s never too good to remain stagnant. To remain in one single place without ever walking forward.   “But you know,” Jimin continues, “Our new place is gonna be bigger and have a better view of the city. We can finally host properly and invite Taehyung, Yeonjeon, Namjoon and Jungkook to come over.”    You hum, already knowing all the possibilities and the memories that will be made in the new place. Memories that you look forward to creating with Jimin by your side.   “We’ll be right over there.” He points to the distance where it’s closer to the heart of it all. You can see the vague outline of the high rise that’ll give you a new angle on the metropolis, a new view that’s perhaps even more beautiful.   You look up at him. “Are you excited about being my roommate instead of my neighbour?”   Jimin giggles. “So that’s what we are now? Roommates?”   “Roommates that happen to share the same bed,” you sing-song.   He bursts out laughing and the boyish sound is melodic to your ears. “Just to let you know, my parents didn’t want to just give us a vase and a lamp. They wanted me to put in baby furniture, but I told them it was way too soon.”   “Really?”   Jimin giggles with you. “I think they already bought a crib and they’re going to return it.”   “Hmm, I wonder how we’ll break the news to them that we’re only roommates.”   He tickles your side, having enough of your jokes and your teasing. It makes you sing numerous apologies between giggles that you’re only joking before he finally lets up.    “It’s about time to leave this old place behind,” Jimin coaxes in case you’re still sad, “We’re practically living together already and we gotta upgrade to bigger and better things. What else am I going to do with the money in the bank that’s collecting dust?”   You turn around in his arms, pouting at him sympathetically. “Aww, poor you, your wallet’s too fat, Minnie? I know a way to solve that.”   Jimin swats your hand away when it tries to reach into his pocket, his gaze darkening. “Nuh-uh. I don’t think so, miss.”   “Psh, fine. I don’t need your fat bank account. Like I don’t have my own,” you tease. “You know, I’m pretty sure the moving guy has a crush on me. He recognized me and got my autograph. Did he get yours?”   You quirk your head to the side, taunting him, and laughter bubbles out of Jimin’s lips. “Excuse me? A crush? If he doesn’t know who I am then he’s about to.”   You step off the balcony together, back inside your now empty home that’s next door to his equally empty apartment room. “What are you going to do? Punch him?”   “More like I’ll kiss you in front of him.”   “How threatening.”   “Or what if I recite a Shakespeare sonnet to you in front of him?”   “Sounds more like it.”   “How about I just declare how much I love you?”   “Not creative enough — you already do that on a daily basis, Jimin.”   The door shuts and the quietness of your apartment settles. Beams of sunlight come through the glass windows, catching the dust floating in the air, and painting the room in warm hues.   You walk together with Jimin and the colour of your voices fade away from the wall’s ears.

[bexterbex]

A Soul to Mend His Own | Ch. 25

(Gif by @huxsmug-deactivated20200201)

Warning, if it hasn’t been obvious in the movies there is Nazi symbolism within the First Order. I will expand on this much more throughout the story. If this is something that bothers you, please just exit the story. The author does not condone any Nazi ideals, this is just for fictional uses only.

A Kylo Ren x Modern! Reader in a soulmate au with some canon divergence. —————————————SLOWBURN————————————–

He is already the Supreme leader, searching the universe to find you, his Empress. Your name on his wrist has been the only constant in his life, while you have doubts about his existence and his acceptance of you. He isn’t in the database and why did the name Kylo Ren cover Ben Solo?

MASTERLIST

Chapter 25: Of Pride and Pryde

“Now where do we begin? I believe we should pick up some societal and cultural structures. Now First Order started in isolation on the far side of the Unknown Regions. Under the guidance of the Imperial veterans, we grew to learn that we had been robbed of victory over the galaxy by terrorists and rebels. Who now make up the New Republic. 

We are the only ones who have the power necessary to wrest the galaxy from a path of chaos and corruption. The New Republic’s corruption and ineffectiveness are plain to see across the galaxy. This corruption is one of our crucial weapons. Because of this, our citizens see the Rebellion as a false shepherd and that Rebels can only tear down governments and not build them.

The Republic is depraved, they allow famines to continue on Ibaar and Adarlon and the brutal suppression of the people of Balamak. The First Order has victories of liberating labor camps on Iktotch and we have won a fleet battle in the Bormeea sector.”

You could see the pride in his chest as he was speaking of the First Order victories. 

“In fact, we utilize a commemorative rank insignia system, issuing armbands bearing the names of famous units and heroes during the Galactic Civil War. Lieutenant would you kindly show her your rank armband,” ordered the general. 

The short brunette man sitting next to you showed you the sleeve of his uniform. In the armband, there was a group of symbols you could not read. 

“What does it say,” you ask. 

“Ah yes, I suppose we will have to teach you. We will add it to the list. His band says ‘Power.’ In memory to Admiral Clyss Power of the Galactic Empire. I shan’t get into why he is important at the moment as we will save that for another time but anyone who ranks from a squad leader to a colonel has an insignia that designates rank on their sleeves. Black uniforms denote combat positions, grey usually means mid-level officers who may see combat and teal denotes higher-ranking officers who run sections. Generals and admirals are denoted with silver for generals and red for admirals,” he said gesturing to his own uniform.

“Now the lieutenant and I are similar in many ways. We were recruited at young ages like I discussed yesterday. We were instilled with First Order doctrines to have a strong sense of duty, loyalty, patriotism, and obedience to the state of the First Order. We were taught to forgo our own personal desires for the greater good of the First Order unless that personal desire is for the betterment of the First Order. 

Our military ranks do emphasize individual strength and improvisation, both physically and mentally. Our training programs that are mandatory for all recruits, beginning at a young age, become more aggressively severe into adulthood. We like the Empire before us believe the naturally strong rise to power, while the weak are left to serve their natural leaders. Power is not a means; it is an end.

First Order citizens are educated to believe that the pursuit of individual selfishness and desires is what allowed the Rebel-Alliance to topple the galaxy-uniting Empire. The Rebels and similarily the Resistance are short-sighted terrorists who cannot see the benefit of an Empire. Who controls the past controls the future. Who controls the present controls the past. That is why we must win. The Resistance is chaos and disarray, we are better.”

This time you did not even bother to attempt to take notes as you saw the lieutenant’s fingers fly across his data pad at an unbelievable rate. You were correct in your assumption that he was going to send you them as your phone received them in a new document.

“Now my lady, I believe it is time for you to join General Pryde and me in the officer lounge for dinner,” said the general. You followed him out of the room and down the hallways to a large lounge that high-ranking officers were milling about in. All attention in the room shifted to you, before the general shot a look to the other officers. They then proceeded about their business. It seemed that no matter where you went either on the ship or down on Earth you seemed to draw attention--unwanted attention.

You followed the general to an alcove in the room that held a table that General Pryde was already sitting at. General Hux dismissed Lieutenant Mitaka for dinner and you watched him for a moment go sit with a group of young officers. 

“My lady it is a pleasure to have you eat with us,” said General Pryde dripping with morbid infatuation.

You could see General Hux shooting him a look as you both sat down. “It is my pleasure, but the person you have to thank is the Supreme Leader. He is the one who set this up.”

“Yes, the Supreme Leader asked to make sure that you were not to spend this evening’s dinner alone. He does believe that he will return for tomorrow’s dinner,” replied General Hux.

A waiter came to your table and took your order, both men encouraged you to join them in a drink as well as the entree. 

“So, have you been enjoying your time with the Supreme Leader,” asked Pryde. There was something lurking behind his eyes you just couldn’t tell what it was yet. 

“Well, I am on day four of officially knowing him and everything seems to be going relatively well. Why do you ask?”

You could see the generals exchange glances. “We only ask to make sure everything between you two is alright. We care about your safety and the Supreme Leader has a tendency to be a bit of self-destructive in more ways than one,” responded Hux. 

Before you could respond the waiter came back with your food and a refill of your drinks. “But Allegiant General Hux has informed me that your education on the First Order is going well,” said Pryde. The pair exchanged glances again. You could tell that there were parts of this conversation that you were missing entirely. 

“Yes, you’ll have to excuse my lack of conceptualizing the information yet. I am learning about a world or rather a large part of the galaxy that until six days ago I didn’t even know existed.”

“Of course my lady, no one expects you to learn galactic history overnight,” replied Hux nonchalantly.

“You have been a natural in the Health Committee meetings. Rather dignified if I do say so myself m’lady,” replied Pryde. Hux shot him another look, to which appeared to you to be a signal to back off. 

“Thank you. But that reminds me of a question that I have had. Who is the First Order High Command?”

You see both men straighten up in their chairs. Allegiant General Hux replied: “the First Order High Command are the admirals and generals within the First Order meaning both General Pryde and myself are members m’lady.”

You look between the two men, with some scrutiny. “So can you tell me who it was that suggested the two-child policy should be enacted immediately?”

Now there was a look of slight fear in their eyes as they exchanged glances once again. 

“M’lady I informed the First Order High Command of your wishes,” replied Pryde quickly. 

“The Supreme Leader made the ultimate decision,” said Hux defensively. 

“But that does not answer my question,” you replied. 

“My lady, that policy does not apply to you and the Supreme Leader it only applies to the majority of First Order citizens,” responded Pryde. 

You stood up outraged. “That was not my question. And that is none of your concern!” You quickly left the lounge and started to make your way down the hall before Lieutenant Mitaka caught up with you to help guide you back to your chambers. 

Reaching the door you told the lieutenant you were to see him in the morning and that you did not want to be disturbed for the rest of the evening. 

Shortly after entering the living room you received an alert on your phone from the First Order messaging system. It appeared to be a ship-wide alert informing everyone that you did not wish to be disturbed. 

How convenient.

You paced around the living room for a bit trying to blow off some steam. Ultimately you went to your room and changed into something more comfortable. You exited your room to return to the living room but before you did you spent a few moments looking at Kylo’s empty bed. For how angry you were at him for the moment, tonight would be the first night since you met that you would be without him. You wondered for a moment questioning if it would be childish to sleep in his bed tonight. You pushed aside that thought for now and retrieved your laptop from the living room coffee table. 

You glanced at the time seeing that it was only 7:30 you thought you should pull up a movie. You scrolled through your favorite streaming platform and found something to pass the time. After it ended it was around 10 p.m. you decided you should head to bed. Climbing the stairs to your room you once again looked at Kylo’s empty bed. One night sleeping in it wouldn’t hurt right? Would he even notice? You made the decision to crawl under the covers. One night wouldn’t hurt, especially when the sheets smelled of him.

You awoke earlier than usual the next morning. You hoped you beat the lieutenant usual arrival and tried to hurry back into your room and got ready for the morning. If the lieutenant noticed anything different then he failed to mention it during his usual morning greeting. You did the usual of ordering your breakfast and his coffee and sat in the dining room. 

“Are you alright m’lady,” he finally asked. 

“Of course I am. Why do you ask?”

“Last night you seemed very unhappy leaving dinner and you gave me the order that no one was to disturb you.”

You breathed a small sigh of relief. He was only asking about dinner last night and not your sleeping in Kylo’s bed. “I’m fine, it was just something General Pryde had said, that is all. Nothing you did or anything else for that matter.”

“Would you like me to inform the Supreme Leader that he offended you? Allegiant General Hux might have already done so, but I can send another message to him if you wish.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose out of slight frustration. “No, it isn’t that important.”

“Ok, ma’am. Would you like to go over your schedule for today?”

“Yes please.”

“You have nothing once again until the Health Committee. Since the Supreme Leader will still be a way you are open for lunch but he will be back in time for dinner. After lunch, you have your lesson with the allegiant general. Is there anything else you would like to add?”

“No, that is all. Thank you.”

You then went about reviewing what you had discovered yesterday and you opened the meeting topics agenda that Dr. Koroban sent over. Exercise, vaccinations, sickness prevention, and injury prevention was the list of upcoming topics to discuss. This time you would be discussing the topics without the health experts and you were less than thrilled. You figured you should do some preemptive research before meeting so you pulled out your laptop and got to work. 

A/N: Special thanks to the discord chat for helping me with words last night. 

[nonbinaryhomu]

kyomami week day iv: very, very fluff

one-shot, 1425 words

sorry for any grammar mistakes, english isn’t my native language

so uhh i hate writing fluffs sm... anyways i don’t know what is it, this was supposed to be magireco one-shot (i started based on mami’s kimono quotes) but then i realized my knowledge about magireco is like, 4 game chapters, anime and out of context facts i know so stopped at being a the different story au where nobody dies and everyone’s happy, thank you

      Since Mami was a child, her parents always was taking her into a shrine to celebrate New Year. In her memories this was recorded as a days filled with joy, laughter and spending time together. Dad always made a osechi-ryori and allowed her to eat so much mochi as much she wanted, and Mom sewed her a pretty, new kimono every year. Even if she know those times never turn back, because her wish was so stupid and selfish, she dreamed about them in every alone New Year and cried in a bed, carrying in hands old photo of her and her parents, when they was so happy.

      Oh, she was so melancholy again.

      She shouldn’t be so sad. Maybe her parents died, but it’s not that she was so alone, or something. In those two years after she became a magical girl, she met too much wonderful friends. Kaname-san, Miki-san, Akemi-san, even those magical girls from Mitakihara who she saved, but she didn’t know anything about they. And, most importantly, Sakura-san.

      This girl always was be a mystery to her. When she met her for the first time, she thought that cute redhead is just a simple girl who don’t know the brutal world as much as Mami. Of course, having a friend, who was so similar to her was really wonderful for older girl, but… Maybe there was a something more than just this. Yes, she always wanted to have a magical girl friend, who would support her and she would support that girl. Yes, she was so proud of herself, when red-eyed said that Mami was the ideal magical girl to her. Yes, Sakura-san was just too cute… No, this isn’t the reason, she shouldn’t thinking about it like that! As a senpai and someone like a big sister to younger girl, she really shouldn’t thinking like that. That’s so… Too intimate, even if they’re know each other for a long time.

      And… Yeah, that “big sister” really made her wonder about her relationship with her friend. When she was really close to death, her kouhai said her words like “You’re the only family I have left”. And that should please her. Sakura-san is her younger sister, nothing else happened between them. But still, she felt the kind of… insatiability. But it’s just her stupid thoughts–

      “Heey, Mami-san! Don’t ignore me!”

      She shuddered to the sound of a well-known voice and turned back, smiling to the girl near her. Speak of the devil. Sakura-san was standing right behind her and seems to be very irritated, like a child, who doesn’t got his favorite toy. Even though she tried to pretend to be tough, redhead still was a innocent child to blonde girl. Memories from a year ago still stuck in her head and she considered them like her most valuable treasure. This was kind of weird… Akemi-san, Kaname-san and even Miki-san also are her very important friends, but she never felt feeling like this to them. When she thinking about her first puella magi friend, she was so… happy, but not in a normal way.

      She cursed mentally. Something weird is definitely going with her.

      “Ah, Sakura-san, you scared me!” golden-eyed laughed innocently, when younger girl sit near her. “What happened?”

      “Nothing important” muttered newly arrived, rolling her eyes. “And also I was telling this to you, Mami-san. Don’t call me Sakura-san. We’re friends, aren’t we? Friends should call each other for names. I’m Kyoko, Mami-san.”

      “But this is so embarrassing…” Mami blushed and hidden her face in hands. “You’re sure this isn’t too close, Saku– K-Kyoko-chan?”

      “No, it’s not” Kyoko sighed and caught her senpai’s hand, smiling invitingly. “Really, didn’t I say this before? I don’t like when someone says my surname. As my big sister, you shouldn’t be so scared about saying my name… Geez, Mami-san, you’re such a shy person.”

      “N-Ngh, s-stop tease me like that!” older girl pretended to be offended. “I just… Never had a friend who was too close with me like you, Kyoko-chan… I don’t know how to behave to not losing you again. I… I never could bear this…”

      “I promise, I’m already not as stupid I was then” younger mahou shoujo closed her eyes and suddenly hugged surprised blonde. “I never leave you again. At last… Sisters shouldn’t worry one another, isn’t it?”

      “Yeah…” fifteen-years-old girl nodded, feeling a tear run down her cheek. “I’m so sorry, looks like I become such a crybaby.”

      “It’s okay. Even if you’re a older, you shouldn’t pretend to be stronger. You sometimes just need sit down and cry, that’s the human nature. And if you needed me, I’m here with you.”

      “Thank you so much, Kyoko-chan…” Mami started smiling and finally shook hands back. “You are really my dearest friend.”

      “Anyways…” Kyoko turned her head with gentle blush. “There’s something I want to ask you.”

      “Hm? What is it, Kyoko-chan?”

      “Tomorrow is New Year, yeah? I want to ask you… Uh, if you aren’t busy, maybe you want… go to shrine with me?” fourteen-years-old started blushing and played with her fingers. “Er, don’t take it in weird way… I just mean… We’re like family, so…”

      “I… Of course I’ll go there with you, Kyoko-chan” older girl smiled and unexpectedly ran hand through younger’s hair. “I thinked about it literally a moment ago. We’re both orphans, so basically we’re don’t have someone to go with…”

      “Don’t say thing like this, Mami-san” redhead took a very long sigh. “I’m sure you have. I don’t think you’re pretty close with Homura, but Madoka and Sayaka–“

      “I don’t think they’re actually have a time to go with me…” blonde lowered her head with almost imperceptible sadness. “Kaname-san for a week was very excited and talked all the time about she go there with her family, because it’ll be first time, when her younger brother will see that shrine. And Miki-san probably will use it as an opportunity to invite this boy who she like…”

      “…Looks like we’re really alone, huh?” Kyoko laughed sadly and hugged her knees with her arms. “In that case, it’s very happily I also haven’t someone to go with. Finally we can spend some time together, and not during fighting Witches.”

      “I would be very happy, if no Witch doesn’t disturb us…” Mami started to be worried, as usual, when someone talks about Witches when she was excited. “I don’t want to eventually sacrifice time what I can spend with you, but we’re magical girls, we cannot ignore the danger and allow innocent people to death.”

      “It always curious me, why you are so alert to justice and stuff like that” whispered red-eyed. “Our lives as a magical girls aren’t justice, so why you care so much about people who you don’t know? Don’t you know that if you will continue care about strangers, you just… die?”

      “Kyoko-chan…” began golden-eyed, but her kouhai effectively cut her off.

       “I’m just worried about you. That’s all” shrugged younger girl. “You’re my big sister, so it’s naturally I don’t want to see you dead. I know, I used to share the same views with you, but… After that what happened to my family, I really don’t want to lose you too.”

      “I really didn’t want to make you worried, Kyoko-chan…” older puella magi pursed her lips and looked away. “I know you’re scared about losing your family twice, but this is fate of magical girls. We can’t just sit down and say I’m traumatized, so I don’t want to fight in the name of justice. Jokes on you all.”

      “D-Don’t laugh at me…” redhead closed her eyes and clenched her hands. “I know I’m stupid, but I don’t want to something happen to you… You’re my big sister, after all…”

      “Don’t be mad at me. Just joking” blonde smiled and very, very strongly hugged her best friend. “We can’t change the each others’ views, but I’ll do this for you. I promise, I will try to not risk during fighting Familiars, and try not to react when we find anyone during our meeting, okay?”

      “Okay~” Kyoko started smiling, instantly changing her mood, which made Mami laugh. “So, see you tomorrow!”

      “Hey, wait, don’t say you’re leaving–“ veteran mahou shoujo started trying to scream, but her kouhai had already run out of sight. “Geez, she’s always the same. Really, she’s not changed since that year when I met her.”

      A gentle smile bloomed on her face.

      Sakura-san is really cute. Maybe she should confess this to her tomorrow.

[chiimmchiimm]

❝ 𝖒𝖔𝖓𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗 !¡ 𝓉𝓌𝑒𝓁𝓋𝑒 ❞

CHAPTERS “  01 - 02 - 03 - 04 - 05 - 06 - 07 - 08 - 09 - 10 -  11  - 12 - 13 - 14 - 15 - 16 - 17 - 18 - 19 - 20 - 21 - 22 - 23 - 24 - 25 - 26 - 27 “  

The northern jail was the most dangerous in the country, social scum, thousands of criminals were locked behind their bars. Who would tell poor Blair that he would end up there because of his father’s mistake. The problem was not the lack of hot water, but that inhuman obsession that many of the prisoners had for “new toys.” Rookies had two options; be submissive and abide by veterans’ orders or suffer the dangerous anger of those disturbed minds. It all started one night when Blair had the bad idea of ​​going to shower alone.

𝒫𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔: Jungkookoffender au x (female: Blair) 𝒢𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒:   smut.(later), offender au, fluff, angst. 𝒲𝑜𝓇𝒹𝓈: 3.3 k 𝑅𝒶𝓃𝓆𝓊𝒾𝓃𝑔:  +18   𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔:   dirty language, lies, mood swings, spectacular and close bodies, muscles, biceps, problems, very big problems, resolved threats, future friends, jealousy on her part, sad but spicy conversation in the end, rare metaphors ... 𝒜𝓊𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓇’𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝑒:  I am sorry it took me a long time to upload a new chapter, but I was very busy. Now that I have nothing to do for the happy quarantine and inspiration has come. I have decided the total of chapters, they will be a total of 27. Enjoy the chapter. Many kisses and encouragement in the running of the bulls ...

"Jimin take her out of here," Thirteen yelled in a fit of anger. His tone emanated so much authority that the blonde moved automatically. Thirteen was too explosive issuing his friend's real name, realizing that these were used when anxiety really clouded their judgment. He stepped up to my position and carefully stood up with his hand on my forearm. Fear began to take hold as too persistent an intruder, thoughts of what he would do in the state he was in. I knew that Jimin was also close to my mental debate since, despite blindly obeying, there was a moment when I caught him looking back.

  My footsteps were awkward making it difficult to move down the hall. The discomfort was palpable in the air. Jimin decided to make a pact of silence and say nothing. I had many questions. Too many.

  And by a demon, they were supposed to be high-security prisons. How was it possible for prisoners to walk through their halls without any surveillance?

 It took a little over a minute for me to realize as we crossed the doors of my module that we were heading to my cell.

 At the door, Jimin took a card (which until then he thought only the guards had) out of his pocket, passed it through the sensor and the bars slid free access.

"Come in." He didn't give me much choice either, since the arm he was holding me with pushed me slightly forward so that he would enter.

  Feet rushing to the ground made me turn toward the bunks. Distracting me enough so that I didn't see Jimin leave silently.

“Where were you?” Despite the darkness obscuring the larger view of the cell, I was able to locate her by her husky voice. Lucy stood in front of me with disheveled hair and covering her mouth while yawning. When he realized how I looked his eyes widened to the point of almost shooting out of their sockets. He put his hands on my shoulders and started talking in a rush. "My God, Blair. What happened? What did Shanghai ask of you? And why did Graff forcibly bring you in?"

“Don't you know?” I asked too confused. Surprised by the stability of my voice when in just a few minutes I did not have the strength to say a word. It was as if my body had dried up and I no longer had anything to spill. Wipe my nose with the sleeve when I snort my own tears. Lucy slowly shook her head as a disoriented expression dominated her face.

   It was there that my head began to collapse. Nothing made sense. If Lucy knew nothing, then how had Thirteen found out?

"You really haven't talked to Thirteen?"

  Lucy frowned quite confused.

"Why should I speak to him?"

"Didn't you tell him anything?"

"But why should I have told him anything? He is just ..."

"He's your brother," I said, not realizing that I had voiced my thoughts out loud. I relaxed my eyebrows when perceiving how little by little the skin of the face of Lucy lost its natural color turning of a too disturbing pale white.

"Not him, not him ..."

"Lucy, nothing's wrong, okay? I'm not going to tell anyone."

  Resigned I end up lowering the tension of the shoulders. The next thing she did was sigh too overwhelmed.

"Actually ..." he continued with a suspensive air, however, he ended by biting his lip. It took a couple of seconds as if the words he wanted to say were the most difficult to pronounce. "... he is my stepbrother. But what difference does it make. Whether we have the same blood or not, I love him the same. I always take care of myself. .. "

“From whom?” I asked, quite interested in his silence. I was pretty sure someone's name came next. Specifically, one that apparently had a lot to do with her.

"That doesn't matter now. Wait." He observed me in a nervous blink. I raised my eyebrows quite receptive to his change in mood. "Thirteen knows you know?"

"Yes," I whispered.

“What?” He opened his mouth so wide that I swore his jaw would snap off at any moment. She seemed so shocked by the fact that Thirteen had allowed (or ignored) her knowing his secret. For a moment, I managed to see a shadow of confusion across his face that dissipated when an idea crossed his mind. One that would tell me slowly. "Who helped you?"

"What do you mean?" I tried to sound disoriented but I knew very well where I wanted to take the conversation, which I could not allow under any circumstances.

“Whose money did you give to Shanghai?” Seriously, he didn't show one iota of compassion for my attempt to shy away from his questions. What's more, I dared to take one of my hands. I squeeze her to tell me she wouldn't judge me, that she just wanted me to respond. But I did not speak, not because I did not bring him into the conversation, but because I did not see completely honestly speaking openly about our strange pact. Because it was so. There was no other word to describe it.

  The metallic noise in the bars made us both start. When I turned my eyes towards the entrance to my cell, I managed to recognize the perpetrator perched with my fingers holding tight.

"Come out, we have to talk." His voice was rough, materializing the anger that was still present. Squint my eyes for any grimace or gesture that could give me a clue of how he is currently doing. He was so intimidating to me despite not seeing him well because of the poor lighting. My shoulders instantly fell into a shy dance before his piercing gaze.

   Lucy seemed to understand almost instantly what was happening because she approached him and spoke with determination.

"You better get back to your cell. It's late and Blair needs to rest."

  Thirteen hit one of the bars that was near my friend's face, but she was impassive. She reacted, as if she was used to her explosive mood swings. From one moment to the next she was petrified with something she saw. After two minutes of angry looks, Thirteen gave me a clear look of annoyance at my vague collaboration and turned away from the bars as if they would burn to the touch.

 The last thing I remembered before I closed my eyes to sleep was that look full of fire and something else that I couldn't distinguish. He seemed upset, not because of what he had (thankfully) stopped, but because of something that seemed to press against his chest. My stomach started to buckle just at the thought. He had gone back to see if he was okay.

Did he care more than he said?

   Actually, I wasn't very hungry. The appetite had not appeared at breakfast and seemed to continue to disappear at the meal. He hadn't slept well either. I couldn't get my eyes off Thirteen. Also, as if things were going from bad to worse, Lucy had changed her attitude towards me. It was coarser, full of irony, and sometimes quite cold.

"Don't get me wrong but I don't like you to know that," the last part whispered, bringing his head closer to me. I stopped playing with my plastic fork, placing it on my tray very slowly. Lucy was so serious with such drama that I began to wonder if she was really angry. "When a secret starts to be three, the chances of it being known increase considerably."

"Are you a statistician now?"

"Blair, shit, this is serious."

"I know it's serious." Thirteen explained it to me. Besides, I also swore not to tell anyone to reassure myself that I am not going to open my mouth.

“Since when have you been so confident?” He ironic, rolling his eyes simultaneously. I was faithfully upset with the situation. I understood his reaction, that's fine, but he didn't have to treat me like that either. He knew there was something else behind his empathetic irony. I didn't really know if it was because of the tone used or because in the short time we had been living together, I had learned to decipher their facial expressions. She was tense, transmitting it in the force with which she took the handle of her fork. "He should have walked away from you. I don't understand why he keeps looking for you ..."

  I looked at her suddenly, surprised by what she had just confessed. She wasn't sure if she had wanted to broadcast it out loud or if her conscience had just betrayed her. But I was puzzled as I looked at her for some explanation. Lucy snorted in self-criticism at her verbal escape.

"It doesn't suit you. You are too ..."

"Too much what?" Truthfully, his tone had sounded like he was really telling me he was sorry for me. It had bothered me greatly knowing that he had me as a helpless little animal that all he knew how to do was cry, complain and tremble while the other stronger ones laughed at my weakness. I had always been considered weak. And I was already getting fed up with being treated like a glass figure. I didn't have big muscles to defend myself, but if it had helped me to be a spectator of my father's abuse for years, it was to be strong and pull forward.

Whatever it took.

  Lucy seemed remorseful. Frowning as she watched me wail.

"Good," she whispered. This time it was I who frowned in amazement. "Thirteen is like a shark in a pool, you can take a bath with it. But you're never calm." She bit her lip anxiously as she squawked to the side to avoid my direct gaze. "You are too good for him. Damn Blair, don't screw yourself because ... This is not a pretty movie in which the boy ends up with the girl when he realizes that he has been fucking her and asks for forgiveness. This is real life, the fucking fucking life. Because when you least expect it you will be sunk to the neck. And when you realize it will be too late because the shark will have bitten you and you will not be able to get out of the pool. "

  After an overly dramatic pause, Lucy finally caught my hand, laying it on top. Eyes glued to our clasped hands as if we weren't having a heated conversation. Then I looked at her too lost again.

"Please don't fall in love with him."

"I'm not in love with him."

"I know." I snap with a small but sad smile. My skin crawled completely. "But I also know that you are not indifferent. That is dangerous, Blair. Fucking dangerous because Thirteen only loves himself."

  After that, Lucy grabbed the ends of her tray tightly and stood up leaving me alone on the table. With the melancholic tones of his voice bouncing inside my head. A sporadic tear ran down my cheek in a dance too sad. My chest became so tight that my diaphragm could not move. Anxiety began to cloud my judgment without being able to avoid it. I did not understand his worried advice if it was clear that I would not fall so low. That is to say, it is true that Thirteen seemed to me an attractive man but that did not mean that I was falling in love with him.

  After inserting the tray through the slits, walk quickly to the nearest exit. I was aware of several glances at the nape of my neck and I felt quite uncomfortable. I was turning the corner of one of the hallways on the way to the patio so distracted that I was not aware that my arm was pulled back and that my back was hit against the wall until his dark gaze became part of my visual field.

  Her breathing hitting directly. Tousling my hair unraveled on impact.

"Why?" He growled, wrinkling his nose as he breathed hard. He looked angry, more than that. His dilated pupils just screamed how much this whole situation had excited him. It looked like a match aimed to be lit. One of his hands rested on the side of my head in such a way that he had me imprisoned with his body. It looked like he had been running, so I thought about the possibility that he had run after me. But that idea could only fit in the remotest part of my head. I part his lips leaving a snap drawing my eyes. Red and wet from the ride his tongue started to take when he noticed my devotion to them. My chest reacted by swelling and deflating. Due to its proximity, I could feel the touch of his shirt and how his chest put mine on the edge. I forced myself to stay stable but it was so difficult.

"Why what?" My breath unintentionally bounced off the fluffy skin of her lips. Leaving him a little stunned by the temperature change, his gaze left me still. Little by little her iris ate the brown of her eyes, with an almost wild look, so attractive that I was determined to crush my cheek against the wall to nervously avoid it. Everything around me was unimportant when I dazzled small bruises with traces of dried blood on the tips of his knuckles. OMG. I just had to add two plus two to realize that this was the reason Lucy's jaw dropped when she saw him appear last night. "Your hands ..."

  My sudden fear seemed to disturb him as I pushed his body away from mine to push his wounds away from my eyes.

“What have you done to him?” I asked lost in his dark spots. I tried to capture his gaze but he avoided me. Then, when he lucidly listened to what he had just said, his countenance seemed to change dramatically to a more enraged one.

"What have I done to him?" We played for a while. What the hell did I do to him, Blair? "I snort, as I ran my palm over his face trying to calm down." Better tell me what the hell were you doing? Kneeling down and taking off his fucking pants. "

  I bit my lip to catch the shake. I started breathing through my mouth.

"I did what seemed best to me." I breathed out, my voice hoarse as I tried to keep my tone steady.

"Since when is sucking your fucking dick a good idea?"

  He slammed his hand on the wall making a sound so sudden I ended up jumping in my place. He seemed to be disturbed with every word he spoke. It was just at that moment when I remembered our first meeting, I couldn't help it, the images simply folded my thoughts. It was too illogical, too hypocritical, to think that the same person who was threatening me to do that was now screaming at me like crazy while rejecting my intentions to do so.

"Shit on me, Blair! Why didn't you tell me anything?"

"Why do I have to tell you about my life if you don't tell me about yours?"

  I regretted. I fucking regretted the instant his eyes claimed mine with fury. He approached me with clean strides to corner me again. This time, with greater intensity. His legs held mine together to prevent any movement that was not in his plans. Rushing her mouth close to my face. Shortening her arm to improve her bullying. His bicep bulged in the process, decreasing the space between my head and his.

"Because I don't have shit up to my neck. Because I'm not stupid enough to mess with a psycho bitch. And above all, because I'm not such an asshole to get into the same problem over and over again."

"You always get in trouble, don't you?"

"It's different," he seemed so distant, turning his gaze to one side. His outlined jaw came to light showing me how tense he was.

"How is it different?" I raised an eyebrow, my lips tightening in response to his daze. Okay, I knew from my own experience that provoking him was not a good idea, but there was no point in what he said. Let's see, if it is true that it does not make me the smartest person in the world to always mess with the same girl, adding the fact that as he says is wrong in his head, but from there to have to throw a face at me that always has. Really, your willingness to help me is still too presumptuous for me. Although, my actions could be seen from another perspective as ungrateful, I could not ignore that it has always sought to obtain some benefit from my situations. And certainly screaming at me by inches made me so nervous that I couldn't quite adapt the neural connections necessary to balance a proper response.

   Thirteen seemed lost in his own mind. In the middle of a fight. He hadn't stopped watching me, but nevertheless, he knew he wasn't paying attention to me.

Wow, it was the first time I had left him speechless.

"I'm not going to repeat the question again, if you don't think of turning the conversation around," he threatened, raising his tone to a much higher baritone, but without leaving that patience that he characterized. His voice seemed strained but his face remained stable, neutral, without showing a single grimace. It could be perfectly mistaken for an ice figure if it weren't for his nose moving agitatedly while breathing hard. He really is angry. "I couldn't get that information out of that son of a bitch because he hardly had his teeth in his place. But you, if you can tell me, be a good girl and collaborate."

I couldn't think lucidly, or rather, it was his hot breathing that completely blocked me. I admit that the passage from his screams to his conciliatory whisper was something that affected me greatly. But the problem is still there, a problem that is not mine and therefore I cannot speak about it. And fuck it if you want to get mad, friendship with Lucy is the only thing that keeps me sane in this prison of the devil.

“Did you tell Shanghai I asked you for money?” I asked, lengthening the greatest tone of intrigue I could have emitted. Thirteen tensed again. Suddenly his jaw clenched and his shoulders came together. Notice how nervous he was when unstable little vibrations began to spring from his breathing. My accusing gaze never left his, making it clear, in case there was any doubt, that if his answer was affirmative, the conversation would take a much more unpleasant course.

"Who told you that?" He asked, narrowing his eyes.

"Isn't it obvious?" I clarified with an irony that was too marked. "Besides, why do you have to tell that crazy woman about me when you finish ..." I forced my lips to close before continuing to stain my vocabulary with that shape. Even though I didn't finish my sentence I was sure that Thirteen had perfectly gotten the message from the way her eyebrows slowly rose.

“What?” He seemed confused by the hint of weakness in his voice.

   Simply, I dedicated myself to admire his facility to lie. And yes damn, I will not deny that now the one who is angry is me. On top, adding the impudence that he shows by continuing to deny something that he knows does not have two fingers in front of him.

"Really, I don't care where you decide to shove your fucking dick. You can think about those things, still, about this shit of a place, but was it really necessary to name me? Find another topic of conversation next time."

   Try leaving. Take two steps toward the patio doors. However, his hand was placed on the wall right next to my head, getting in the way of my advance. My eyes were at the height of his right arm full of tattoos. The heart of black ink greeting me with enthusiasm. Feeding my curiosity a couple of seconds before I will turn fully to him too furious.

"Take your arm off," I warned. I didn't have the strength to move it on my own. I was aware that in a melee fight it would not last even two seconds against him, but right now it was anger that controlled my behavior. Minutes passed and his arm seemed to take root in the wall, so, gathering all my willpower, I brought my hand to his wrist. After wrapping the surface of his skin, I found that it not only seemed hard, but also lay with a quality so cozy that small tickles began to appear with the area in contact.

  Suddenly, I feel like a much larger surface than mine completely covers my hand. Thirteen withdraws my fingers little by little until I finally have control of my wrist. At any moment, he places it by sticking it against the wall above my head leaving me too exposed. I gasp, my stomach sinking as he leans his mouth toward my ear. The warm contrast of his lips with my warm skin only leaves the area standing on end.

"Why waste my time being with other women if I already have you?"

next 

[missorgana]

coffee with an old friend

pairing: finn/poe dameron, background rey/rose tico

fandom: star wars (sequel trilogy)

rating: teen and up

word count: 6420

warning: swearing

summary: This gap year was supposed to be uneventful. Free of stumbling into his childhood friend slash man of his dreams, at least, but it seems like Finn's waking up to a surprise every day now. (coffee shop au + childhood friends)

(after being stuck on this in 3 months, i’m back!! i’m not too happy with the ending tbh but,, i just want it done and i miss them a lot. this isn’t beta read so all mistakes are my own! really hope you all enjoy this!!)

read on ao3

Finn’s missed London.

He only landed a week ago, but the memories from his childhood are already creeping back into his mind.

He still knows these streets like the palm of his hand.

As much Finn loves California, it can’t really compare, now, standing in the misty afternoon, the rush of the stores very much going despite the weather.

It almost seems quiet now, upon his return. The fact that he thought this was crowded as a child is incredible.

He’s missed the kindness, as well as the blunt honesty of the British.

And, surprisingly, the smell of rain’s missed too.

It’s almost comforting.

Finn knows he can’t stand in the rain forever, though, and if there’s something London never gets enough of, it’s coffee shops.

So it’s only a five minute walk before he spots one, which he, oddly enough, doesn’t remember seeing here before. Must be newly opened.

And there’s plenty of tables available once Finn’s inside, only residents are people looking around his age, occupying their laptops with cappuccinos on the side.

And, figuring he’ll go for the usual ice latte, the queue it is. It’s only consisting of one person, really, so Finn’s not sure he can call it that.

Regardless, when it’s his turn, he quickly forgets that thought.

Because a man he hasn’t seen in years in standing behind the counter.

Finn’s mind goes back to video games and model planes and caramel apples and it’s almost as if he’s ten years old again.

Poe fucking Dameron.

He’s changed, so very much, but Finn’s a hundred percent certain it’s him.

The curly haired man in front of him takes a minute to register what’s happening, so he’s probably just as surprised as Finn himself.

His face morphs from cluelessness to a slightly open mouth to a smile that slowly grows.

“Poe?”

“Finn! Buddy!”

And Finn really can’t think about how that old pet name makes his stomach feel right now, cause a woman with a slightly loud child, standing behind him, tells him to “Hurry up, already!”

So, naturally, Finn apologizes while getting his order out. Poe looks disappointed.

Cut to two minutes later where his coffee is called, by another barista, cause Poe’s seemingly busy, and Finn shouldn’t instantly feel sad about that, but he does.

That is, until he notices the scribbles on the cup saying, I’m off in an hour and a half. Wait for me?

Finn should be looking for a job right now. Should let his parents know he’s back in town, they’ll probably give him a three course meal and convince him to stay forever.

But despite not having seen the man for four years, he still can’t say no to Poe Dameron. Damn him.

Which is why Finn sticks around, shuffling his playlists and texting Rey for a bit.

She’ll surely freak out when she hears about this.

He should really tell her, but he spots Poe getting rid of the apron and Finn figures he’ll call her in the evening.

The older man, only by two years, he reminds himself, sits down across from him.

Finn wants to stand up for a hug, but doesn’t.

He wants to hold the hand that’s placed on the table, but doesn’t.

Regardless, Poe looks beyond excited. He’s grown a scruffy beard, and it’s funny to see the long curls again.

Finn nearly cried when he had shaved it all off for the army, but his old friend doesn’t need to know that.

“Oh, man. Hey, I- well. When did you get back in town, buddy?” and his voice is a tad hoarse, but warm, and Finn’s stomach starts doing loops on itself from hearing it again.

He can’t really deny it, can he?

Ever since the sleepover the two had with Rey, when they were ten and Poe twelve, Finn’s had this feeling.

This feeling when the boy grabbed his hand and told him his parents could take them to Comic Con, and Finn’s young mind didn’t get it, then, but he did when he turned fourteen.

Sixteen year old Poe texted him a little past midnight and asked if he could come over, which is far from unusual for them, and the golden boy laid in his bean bag, concentrating hard on the ceiling, only to shift his gaze to Finn and tell him, “I think I’m gay.”

Two days later, Finn asked his mum what the difference between liking a girl and a boy is, and she smiled that knowing smile of hers, “Well, depends on the boy and the girl.”

And he can’t really claim he’s surprised that his childhood crush washes over him in full force, after only a couple of hours worth of reunion.

Fucking hell.

All the time he spent crying over Poe leaving for the military makes him feel utterly stupid.

He feels utterly stupid sitting here, across from the man he’s been in love with since his early teens, who is just as, if not more, beautiful as he was four years ago, can he just stop?

“A week ago.” Finn tells the older man, coughing as a way of possibly restraining the thoughts going through his head, about his friends’ hands, that must be unhealthy, “More importantly, when did you get back?”

And Poe turns his eyes to the table in a soft laugh, proceeding to rest his chin on his hands before replying, “A year ago, more or less.”

“You- what? Why didn’t I hear about this?” Finn asks, and immediately regrets.

He can’t say it’s not completely on him for their loss of contact.

Poe’s number’s still saved on his phone, no doubt, which has caused him many late night considerations of a confession call, just for the hell of it.

But, well, his friend became less frequent, too. Which is understandable, because he was a pilot in the fucking military.

Finn feels bad, and somehow Poe realises this, cause he grabs his hand over the table, “If you’re about to apologise for losing contact, save it, okay? Things like that happen, I don’t blame you.”

And now they’re holding hands, and god, stop it already, before Finn does something stupid, like kissing the man across from him.

Soon enough, Poe retracts his hand, without seeming fazed.

The phone pings for twentieth time, and Finn apologises, “It’s Rey.”

“Oh my god!” the other man exclaims, “How is she?”

And Finn has to smile, there’s so many updates from their lives, and he swears this fuzzy feeling he’s having needs to leave.

They’ve always been friends. Best friends.

The only thing in his entire life Finn haven’t told Poe about is this, something Rey’s encouraged him to do numerous times.

And maybe he should’ve, but he always thought his best friend too good for him, and even if he didn’t, the thought of getting rejected always kicked in when he was close to coming clean.

But what’s the point of it now?

Poe probably has a gorgeous, strong, strategic, interesting veteran boyfriend waiting for him at home.

If there was no chance when they were teenagers attached at the hip, how would there be any now?

“She’s great!” Finn finally tells him, storing all the emotions in the back of his mind for later, “Still in Paris, but she swore to me yesterday that she would book a flight now that I’m back.”

“Hold her to that. A reunion’s just what I need, buddy. My friends from the army are awesome, but I can’t help comparing them to you two, you know?”

Finn really hopes he isn’t blushing, but he’s feeling embarrassed, and warm.

Maybe he should feel bad about being satisfied about this, but he’s relieved, because Poe hasn’t replaced him. Or Rey. He never believed he would, but the fear was always present.

What Finn expects to be yet another text from the last member of their trio turns out to be one from his mum, and yeah, he should probably get going before she comes and gets him herself.

He doesn’t really want this to end. Let him reside in this blissful warmth, pretend his childhood crush’s actually returns his feelings, or something, okay?

“Sorry, Poe, it’s uh- it’s my mum,” Finn tells his friend with a chuckle, “I wanna catch up, but my mum also wanna catch up, so...”

“Of course! Don’t worry, buddy,” he tells him, and Finn takes a small happiness in the disappointed look Poe’s trying to hide, “You still have my number, right?”

And he doesn’t know if he should be embarrassed or hopeful right now, but Finn nods and his friend brightens up.

“Perfect. Still need to show you my pictures! Got loads of my plane- or well, the one I was assigned to…” Poe stumbles a bit on his words.

He’s always been confident, at least that’s how Finn always saw him as, smiles that may go to the cocky side after a couple drinks, hands rubbing his friends’ back when they’re nervous, this courage to always say what he means, even when it’s frowned upon.

Especially when it’s frowned upon.

But of course Finn, and Rey, saw the rare moments aside from that. The soft, the sad, the unknowing. 

Before Poe Dameron announced his sexuality in the high school speaker system, he told Finn in the middle of the night, the light of his phone screen illuminating him, and a crack in his voice that he’ll deny if Finn ever brings it up.

“If you want to, that is!” the older man adds quickly, and Finn has to stop him with a nod, “Of course.”

And well, he can’t really postpone it anymore, which is why Finn stands up, and, because fuck it, goes in for a hug. Luckily, Poe seems just as willing.

He pats his older friend on the back a couple times for good measure, to distance himself from the way his stomach is clenching still.

And maybe, he hopes, it’ll stop affecting him the next time they meet. Maybe.

…

Today is Sunday.

In his childhood, this day always meant going to church, and well, as much as he respects his mother’s religion, he guesses he grew out of it.

Nowadays, Sunday is usually his assigned ‘do absolutely nothing day’, and has been since he turned sixteen.

Yet Finn somehow finds himself doing something. It’s tragic, really.

But Poe texted with the question of hey bud! you doing anything today?, followed by if you’re up for looking at pictures, you know. coffee on the house? ;), and he can’t exactly ignore Poe Dameron, can he?

After staring at the winky face emoticon for way longer than he should, like he hadn’t seen it a million times before, Finn decides to reply and make his way to where their reunion took place a week ago.

And boy, if he thought the coffee shop was empty then, it’s definitely void now.

Only two residents present, an old woman knitting, and a man possibly in his late thirties, typing away on a laptop like his life depends on it.

“Buddy!” Finn recognizes the exclaim, and gives his friend a wave.

And Poe is already sitting at a table, surprisingly.

A look to the counter reveals a blond barista, hair put up in two buns, apron sporting an abundance of colorful pins and, what he assumes is their business catchphrase, You can’t buy happiness, but you can buy coffee - and that’s pretty close.

Just like when they first reunited, Finn’s undivided attention is once again drawn to his childhood crush, smiling at him as if they hadn’t stopped calling each other for four years. Finn might as well have a permanent stomach ache by now.

“You’re off already?” he questions his friend, taking the seat across from him, where a iced latte was already placed for him.

That’s just a friendly gesture, right? Nothing more for Finn to overthink for the rest of his life.

Poe nods, “An hour ago. Kaydel needs some extra hours, anyway, so I’m getting off early.” and his curls bops as he gestures to the woman operating the coffee machines.

Today’s a bit warmer compared to the last time, Finn mentally notes. Perhaps their heating was broken before.

Not that he has time to freeze or sweat or anything similar when Poe’s in front of him, and Finn is absolutely embarrassed that his feelings are hitting him this hard.

After their first meeting three days ago, Finn called Rey, and of course, he can’t keep anything secret from her, so it was less than twenty minutes before she’d gotten the news out of him.

“Finn! You know what this means?!” she yelled to him, the surprised yelp sounding in the background, which he assumed belonged to her girlfriend, and, well.

Finn laughed to her, nervously, “That you’re coming back so we can have it like old times again?” and he could not help but think that Rey was rolling her eyes at him, all the way over in France.

He doesn’t doubt that Rey wants to see Poe again, but he also knows that she never let his childhood crush on their friend go.

“Well, duh,” she told him, then clicked her tongue, “Buuut now you can see him on a daily basis.”

And Finn had played dumb, don’t judge him, okay? That day was already a lot for his mind, and heart, to handle, so he needed a bit of distance from it all.

“Uh, I guess?”

“Finn.”

“What?”

“You still not going to tell him?”

“Tell him what?” he told her, with a smile creeping up, and he didn’t know how to interpret the laugh coming out of the speaker, but damn, he missed her.

Daily facetime and texting is great, of course, they never go a day without saying something to each other, at least once. But it’s been a year since he’s seen her in person, and she’s his best friend.

She was always the one who arranged the sleepovers in their school days, and Finn has to admit it, the study plan she made for him is immensely helpful. Rey has a way of being in control that Finn hasn’t mastered yet.

“You’re impossible.”

And honestly, he has to agree with her, cause now he’s drinking an iced latte, his heart beating a little too fast, while Poe shows him pictures. He tries hard not to think about which one, of the many people his friend tells him about, could be his boyfriend.

“So there’s Hux - that’s his last name, never would tell us his first name, weird guy - Jessika, Phasma, Snap, Zori and Kylo.” Poe’s listing names, pointing to the faces.

Finn can’t help but smile, watching Poe’s enthusiastic arm movement, looking at each photo with nostalgia, his voice smooth like honey.

He notices his leg jumping up and down, that’s always a thing he does when he’s excited and it used to drive Rey insane. Finn doesn’t mind it.

“Of course you don’t mind.” She would tell him, whenever he took Poe’s side in the argument about whether or not it was annoying, and each time he would desperately hide his blush, giving Rey an intense look until she laughed at him.

Finn knows she’d never say.

They’ve joked about it, they really have, but she would never betray his trust like that. They pinkie promised, anyway, so if Rey did let it slip, she’ll hear for it til the end of eternity.

Finn knows the reminiscing smile on Poe’s face, and he has to clear his throat to not let his thoughts drag him to overthinking all this, “I bet you miss them, now.”

Poe nods. “I do.”

He then shrugs, and Finn hasn’t given up on reading his friend, but it sure is getting harder.

“But also, spending every waking moment with the same group of people is well,” he laughs at himself, “It can put anyone on edge sometimes, you know? Especially cause there’s no way to be alone. Not really.”

All Finn can do is nod in silent agreement.

He can’t imagine how that must be. Hell, he thought a dorm room would be the worst living situation possible, before he headed to America.

And because those words touch him in an unexplainable way, and because Finn can’t ever keep his damn mouth shut can he, he lets the question, “Did you miss me?” out into their comfortable silence.

Finn’s curses himself immediately.

The dreamy man in front of him looks up with a smile, again, this smile that’s soft but also utterly charming. And now he’s biting his lip, and well, Finn doesn’t know how to interpret any of this.

Poe takes his hand across the table, but turns it so his knuckles are resting in his friend’s palm. “Goes without saying, buddy.”

And how in the world is this happening, how are they holding hands, again?

Finn cannot possibly say he hasn’t experience this kind of affection from Poe before, because, well, he has. Poe loved holding his hand, Rey’s too.

And he could never tell whether his friend was making it harder for him, or, if this touch was what Finn craved from him, even if they could never actually be a thing, then, at least, he’ll have this.

Honestly, it’s return is more or less making him unsure of how to breathe.

Unlike their previous meeting, Poe doesn’t draw back his hand immediately, maybe only a few seconds later, and Finn wishes he didn’t count the seconds, but he did.

Surely, Poe must be noticing his nerves? Or maybe, possibly, he thinks this is Finn’s natural state, around everyone. 

He wishes he knew, and he knows he should be telling him then, like Rey says, but boy, it’s terrifying, the thought of just telling him about his seemingly forever lasting crush on his childhood friend after randomly stumbling upon him and barely knowing about his life now.

Finn must be deemed to suffer, he thinks. If his feelings haven’t faded away now, he has this nagging fear, that, maybe, it never will.

And he may have confessed his thoughts about Poe to Rey, but what he hasn’t told her about is the Valentine’s Day letter he may or may not have written and slipped into his best friend’s locker.

Yeah, it’s, just, listen, okay?

It was short and sweet, or at least, he liked to think that. His fifteen year old self had sat up till a way too late hour to finish it.

Guess you can say it wasn’t really a letter, because Finn liked music, and for a long time, he’s expressed himself easier way that way. So he may have put a list of songs that made him think of his friend. Is that cheesy?

Finn would be lying if he said he could clearly remember which he put down, it’s been so long, and truth be told, he might’ve desperately tried to wipe that memory, anyway.

He signed off as a ‘secret admirer’, obviously, because he’s read those romantic teen novels, and there’s no way he had… the guts? The bravery? He doesn’t really know, Finn just knew he would die if Poe knew it was him.

Rey’s said before he tends to exaggerate, but whatever.

And you might say, he made a move, right? Thing is, well, when Poe found it, he was over the moon.  So, of course, he interrogated virtually every guy he knew. Except Finn, of course.

The reason why he is trying, so hard, to forget this tiny glimpse of hope is because someone took the honor for it. Yep, a real blow to his confidence, to be honest.

So Poe had a boyfriend for a while, which made Finn lose his mind even more, if that’s even possible. The relationship didn’t last long, though.

Lucky for Finn, Rey excitedly exclaimed at the time, except Finn still didn’t act.

He swears, he almost did, biking around the neighbourhood on a Sunday evening with nothing better to do, when Poe looked more beat down than he’s ever seen his friend before.

Apparently, whatever his name was, Finn genuinely doesn’t remember and it’s like it matters, really… anyway, this guy eventually confessed the letter wasn’t from him.

So this evening was one of only a handful occasions where Finn did most of the talking.

And he just couldn’t bear the older boy being quiet, so he shoved his feelings down for what felt like the millionth time and told him bad jokes until the smile he knew so well resurfaced.

It always does. He wishes Poe would smile forever.

Besides, even though this guy was a douche, at least to Finn, he wasn’t Poe’s best friend since before puberty. And that sealed the deal for him to never to do anything, no matter how many times their stubborn friend tells him it’s stupid.

God, are unrequited feelings always this painful? It’s the only one he’s ever had, to be fair.

Finally, after what seems like more than four years, the hand leaves his, and it’s flickering through the photographs again, delicately, and with so much care.

But he can’t help looking at Poe’s face, reminding himself of every feature he memorized so long ago, like his brain’s telling me they’re going to be pushed apart once more.

And Finn wills his friend to look at him, and he does. He always does, really.

And he wishes to know what’s going on in Poe’s head, and for all that is good hopes he doesn’t realise what’s going on in his own.

…

Rey is coming home.

Well, she’s going to visit, she said. Obviously, she’s still got her degree and work in France, and the apartment, it’s not like Finn’s expecting her to move back.

That would be kind of nice, in theory, wouldn’t it?

In the course of, Jesus, almost two months now, things have been pushing Finn out of his new routine, things that were once part of it

He’s moved back into his parents’ basement, and honestly, this gap year was supposed to be relatively uneventful, it really was.

Free of stumbling into his childhood friend slash man of his dreams, at least, but it seems like he’s waking up to a surprise every day now.

Finn really can’t deny that Poe’s stressing him out. And making him nervous. Maybe a bit giddy, shut up.

His stomach aches every time he sees him, and it's always in the coffee shop, so sometimes, Finn allows himself to imagine them as dates because he's pining, okay?

It’s this constant reminder that Poe, well, he just exists in the same space right now, and his stupid texts with winky faces, and maybe, he’s drinking too much coffee now, too.

Poe’s always got his order ready now, and this act has a domestic tone to it that Finn’s not really willing himself to think anymore about.

He always thought he was missing something, as stupid and cheesy as it sounds.

It’s his dream school, of course, and his friends are wonderful, and his ex-girlfriend, still very good friend, Jannah, is close to his heart, too.

But Poe just fits, you know? And Rey too.

Growing up, he had many worries in his life, but at the end of the day, he always knew he could fall back on the two.

It’s like when he got drunk for the first time and his two friends were there with their overly caring, which he really can’t blame them for, because when it happened to Rey, he was there, too, obviously.

It goes without saying.

And Poe always squeezes on his heart, just a tiny, tiny bit every time he sees him, and it’s just a daunting realization that his friend may never know what he’s doing to him.

But Rey’s arriving today.

She called Finn before boarding, a conversation that went a little overtime and might consist of her almost begging him to just take his shot, as she said.

Her girlfriend’s coming too, and weirdly, this is both Poe and Finn’s first time ever meeting Rose.

Oh, in Rey and Finn’s more than weekly facetime he’s talked to her numerous times, but it’s not really the same, he thinks. It’s different being in the same room.

That’s what he learnt from these encounters with Poe, anyway.

And said man once again has invited Finn to coffee before they pick up the girls at the airport. He’s not even working today, good Lord.

So maybe, Finn’s been at Poe’s flat one time. It was just last week, actually.

It’s a small, humble one, and it just works for Poe, like, screams it in the wall art and the model plane he got on his fourteenth birthday that he’s, somehow, managed to keep intact all these years.

It’s the first thing Finn mentions, and his friend’s jokingly grumpy look when he laughs is just so endearing.

And that just took him back to their teenage hangouts, more than anything.

Poe wanted to show him more pictures, and boy, he had plenty of cardboard boxes piled up in a corner containing just that.

And it turned out, not only military time photographs, but old photo albums from before they were split up. A lot of them. The fact that Poe’s kept all of this jumbles up Finn’s insides, and his brain, to be honest.

“Welcome to the corner of shame.” he had said, with that deadpan expression he thinks is sort of menacing, like he’s about to tell a scary story, but honestly, it’s hard to take that serious.

Finn doesn’t say that, because despite them both making fun of each other loads of times, in this moment, it just makes him nostalgic.

If Rey were here, she would probably call him a loser or something, and Poe would stick out his tongue at her, because he’s not that great at comebacks, really.

He might be a bit infamous for starting conversation, arguments, whatever you call it, and not knowing how to finish them.

The fact that Finn finds even that endearing about him, well, he’s long gone.

But he’s known for years, because his other best friend loves to remind him.

Trust Finn when he says this, he’s seen every single photograph Poe owns, and that’s really the main reason they went to the flat, because there’s no humanly possible way he could carry all these to the coffee shop, but they ended up with a movie night because… yeah.

He would’ve stayed over, except that’s just about too much teenage sleepover memories for Finn to handle.

He also noticed the flat to be empty of other residents, except Poe’s dog, who instantly loved him, and his friend knows Finn will get close to tears near absolutely any dog, so. The postbox had only Dameron on it, too, not that he deliberately read on it, or anything.

But whatever, he’s sure Poe must have a boyfriend, somewhere. How could he not?

Perhaps he’s biased, but Finn’s sure there’s no aspect of his best friend that’s not lovable.

And the thing is, Poe’s confident, except when he’s not, like when he ended it with that guy who took the credit for Finn’s work, and for some reason, he started finding flaws to himself.

Listening to it clenched Finn’s heart in a different way than when his friend smiled at him, this was the sort of thing that made him want to curse the world, and that stupid guy, and prove Poe wrong in all this internalised criticism he has put on himself.

Regardless, Finn’s in the coffee shop, iced latte as usual, Poe’s drinking black coffee because he’s weird, and the conversation’s just swarming around being excited about the last part of their trio being on her way.

“You’ve talked to her girlfriend before, right?” Poe asks, biting his lip like he’s about to meet his partner’s parents, God, he is so likeable, why doesn’t he think that himself? Finn should remind him more often.

“Yeah,” he chuckles in his reply, “She’s so cool, honestly. Still weird to think of being in the same room as her. You know. Both of us existing.”

Finn shakes his head at himself, because he always does this with words, but Poe always smiles at him fondly, so even though it causes that familiar stomach ache, it’s worth it.

“I’ve missed this. You’re so deep.”

Their laughs are quiet and he has to say he feels like they’re meaningful. Or he doesn’t say it out loud, but you know what he means.

Thing is, Finn’s almost settled into this, like maybe he can see Poe again, everyday, and sure, he still feels just as strongly as before, but he’s learning to hide the nerves again.

Unfortunately, his best friend manages throw him out of the loop, once again.

Because suddenly Poe’s saying, “See this,” and Finn’s about to ask just how many photo albums he’s got laying around when what he pulls out is anything other than a photograph.

Remember that love letter Finn talked about before? It’s that damned thing Poe has in his hands now.

Firstly, it’s crumbled to oblivion, and he cannot believe his friend has it.

Can paper even, like, survive that long? Finn doesn’t really know.

He does know he feels like throwing up.

But he can’t really excuse himself, not only because this would blow this bottle up your feelings game Finn’s been playing for years now out of the water, but also, they’re supposed to be making their way to the airport soon.

Fuck. What is going on?

“You remember this?” his older friend inquires, turning the paper over in his hands, carefully, and honestly, it would probably return to dust if he didn’t.

How- Poe kept this stupid letter? Surely, Finn expected he’d have thrown it away, in a physical sense and in his mind, after that first breakup.

And Finn nods, swallowing the lump in his throat while the man in front of him continues, “It’s- I kept it in my jacket, even when I was the army.”

Finn knows exactly which jacket, because it’s also one probably too worn out but still being kept alive, multiple patches and stitches for as long as he can remember, “You did?”

It’s a small “Yeah,” he gets as a reply, and well, you already know how his smile makes Finn feel, “You know, I never found out who wrote it.”

And he just can’t reply, because Poe looks like he’s reminiscing, and Finn just wants this to be over. Can almost hear Rey’s encouraging, tired voice in the back of his mind.

“Sorry.” his friend then says, after the shortest silence, already folding the paper back together. Finn still can’t remember the songs, or if he wrote anything else.

Poe glances at the clock and mutters “shit” under his breath, and suddenly, the letter is put in his pocket where it came from, and whatever this moment was is over as quickly as it started.

And his friend gulps down the rest of his coffee in one go, yuck, and he rushes, and stresses, and Finn’s struggling to keep up.

Poe’s still got his hand in his pocket. That’s extremely inconvenient, especially with his bag, why is he doing this?

Finn wants to know just what his friend was thinking about when he brought that letter to light, because, well, God, it must mean something to him if he kept all this time.

It has to, right? What’s he supposed to do with this information?

And also, Finn doesn’t realise that he’s standing still until Poe’s voice sounds somehow a bit further away from him, it’s like he’s staring into nothing and not looking at his childhood best friend.

“What’s the matter?”

He zoned out, he’s zoning out.

It’s just- Finn doesn’t know what he’s trying to think of. All that’s going on in his head is Rey’s convinced mindset, telling him that Poe loves him, if that is platonic or romantic, it doesn’t matter.

He guesses Rey’s right. Maybe. That platonic only option is gonna hurt, though.

Poe’s coming closer again now, except it’s like Finn’s watching this going on outside his body, like a third person, or from above, maybe, and when his friend surely has to tell him they’re in a hurry again, it comes out of his mouth too choked up, too out of place and time for his liking, “I need to tell you something, Poe.”

And his older friend furrows his brow, of course, his stressful demeanor instead morphed to a frown of confusion, and despite of the world possibly crashing upon him this second, Finn continues, because fuck it, “I- I really hope you won’t look at me differently.”

Poe stands in silence for the shortest of the moments, mouth slightly agape, “Buddy, what are you talking about?”

Buddy. That should pretty much settle it, really. Their friendship will most likely put to the an end, or put in a hold, if he flees this.

At least Finn can tell Rey he tried. And say “I told you so,” might as well, now that he’s at it.

Which is why he squeezes his eyes shut for a second instead of looking at this man he knows so well, because well, he’s already distancing himself from everything right now, “It’s my letter, you know?”

And god, has the sound of traffic ever been so jarring.

Finn doesn’t even register the movement at first, he wonders where this is going, only he’s not the one moving, in fact every fiber of his being tenses up when Poe is suddenly as close to his face as they were in puberty.

The older man looks perpetually confused, honestly, Finn doesn’t blame him.

There’s a lot of blinking until, “Are you serious?”

“Yeah,” and you know Finn by now, his brain desperately tries to catch up to speed, throwing words out of his mouth in an unusual stutter, with no real meaning to the madness, luckily, Poe knows this stressed state of his, and a hand finds his shoulder.

It’s smoothing out his collar just a bit, his friend’s expression starting to change again, his eyes pleading to understand, “Finn, I need you to breathe.”

He does. They’re breathing the same air, always, he’s so acutely aware of it now than before.

Why has Poe even stopped him in explaining? He just needs to explain, despite there not being anything reasonable to say, because why does Finn feel the need to defend these feelings? 

Maybe to soften inevitable blow, surely, Poe doesn’t even look fazed, actually, maybe he’s not shaken by it, that’s something.

“And I need you to tell me why Sweater Weather reminds you of me.”

“What?”

“Please?”

Oh, that comes back to him. Finn was far from prepared for a question like that, when a possible rejection was replaying until he might lose his mind.

He just shrugs, almost wanting to be outside his body so he can shove himself.

Why is Poe looking at him like that? It’s just that same smile. His eyes are soft now. His hand just gesturing a bit.

Finn recalls the feeling of hearing that song, but he’s not sure how to say it. It’s like, he can’t tell what his friend wants out of it. No matter what he says, it’ll probably be cheesy, but Finn was fifteen when he made the list, after all.

“I don’t know,” he says, shrugs again, they should probably be going, why is this lump in his throat getting bigger, “It’s like, when we were snowed in, when we watched Alien, you know? I freeze so easily, you know? And you make me warm.”

That’s what he wrote, the little note in the bottom. You make me warm. My heart beats too loud when you’re around. I wonder if you can hear it. I wonder if you know how easy it is to love you.

“I do?” and either Finn’s hallucinating right now, or Poe’s smiling even bigger.

“Yeah. It- it’s like home. I wished I could make you feel that way.”

Why not get everything out in the open now that they’re at it, huh. Poe’s looking at him, though. Like, really looking at him. There’s crinkles forming at his eyes, Finn wonders if they’ve always been there.

And his friend lets out a breath. What is going on-

“You think... would it be okay if I kissed you?”

Who the hell is Poe kidding, right now?

Finn doesn't if he wants to scream at the top of his lungs because this absurdity or because of this glee. 

This year's really going way beyond his expectations already, and God forbid this moment ends, it seems way more like one of his daydreams than reality.

"You want to kiss me?" Finn asks, because it's hard to believe. It's almost like he should be banging his head against a wall for hiding this for so long.

Not that he knows if Poe's, well, wanted to kiss as long as he's wanted to kiss him.

"Buddy." he says, of course he says that, but now it's almost morphed into a new meaning, one where the classic, wonderous Poe smile is a smile of adoration, like a feeling that Finn might have overlooked it all the years they've known each other, for some reason, one that gives him goosebumps. 

"Of course I do. That's the feeling I've never told you about. You make me feel that without even trying."

Well, of course Finn nods, of course, he cannot do anything else than believe him, because this is what, finally, eases his stomach and releases the chokehold on his breath.

This is what makes him study Poe's face and think to himself, is this how he looks when he looks at his friend?

It's like, the world's revolving around Poe, at this moment. To hell with it if that's already been said a million times before, Finn's saying it now.

Maybe Rey was right, not that he'll admit that to her today. Oh fuck, they should probably, actually, get going, shouldn't they?

He isn't eager to break this news to Poe, though, what with his chapped lips on his, and a warmth spreading from his cheeks all the way to his toes.

The buzzing of his phone can wait for another minute, right?

[weaselbeaselpants]

Hazbin/Helluva are hated for the exact same reason they’re loved:

Before I begin I need to repeat something and that’s that you please, kindly, DO NOT BOTHER ANYONE WORKING ON THE SHOW WITH THIS POST. I don’t care if you’re a fan looking for their opinion or a “critic” looking for their response. THESE PEOPLE ARE WORKING HARD, THIS IS NOT A CALL OUT POST IT’S JUST FAN DRIVEL LEAVE PEOPLE ALONE OKAY?!?!?

okey

Here are the facts of the matter:

Hazbin Hotel and Helluva Boss are independently produced cartoons made by a bunch of people juuuuust breaking in on the animation market, and/or internet famous artists having fun with the world they’re producing. The creator, like her style or not, is inspired and VERY passionate about what she likes and what she wants. Everyone working on the show is really into it and their work. It’s such a self-made fandom it was technically a fandom first and a product second. Fans feel like they (and technically do) have a say in how the show should be run and what the characters should be.

It is popular enough to attract attention online but not overblown by the mainstream media.

On the positive side all those things mean:

It’s crew is tight-nit and very passionate + stick up for each other and their projects. It’s basically a giant colab. Whether they were preexisting fans/friends of Viv, the people working on it got to work on something they liked and with people they liked.

The animation community is super pumped and excited for them be they fans of the animators or just people who like cartoons and monsters and stuff. They’re positively skeptical and in on the hype cause they want to see more fluid adult animation and more indie projects take off (also 2D)!

It’s fandom LOVES the characters, concept, and story. They are more invested in what the characters could be rather than what they actually are, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing; to love something based on the concepts presented and use it to make AUs, hypotheticals and what not. Cringe all you want at the Onceler fandom (you can) but it is impressive to make all that material from so little!

They’re both edgy and insensitive based on their subject matter alone. And yet, the creators and fans DO intend for the show to be a net-positive: there IS supposed to a be representational aspect to it’s design and it’s audience. Brandon Rogers, the modern John Waters, is a pure shock-humor artist; an example of the sincere but not TOO serious risque nature these shows should have, and BOTH attract a pretty happy and excitable LGBTQ fanbase who hate bigotry.

The creators directly talking with fans means there’s again a sense of togetherness to the whole production. That the creators tell people to ship what they want BUT NOT TO BULLY is really cool + important.

As an aside, they can only say so much and Viv is at this point not 100% of Hazbin or Helluva’s creation. It’s other people speaking for or with it now. Neither pilot is a singular idea and musing of one person anymore, they are stand alone products and they are not immune from critique or favoritism.

Buuuuuuut, there’s a flipside to these things as well:

Beyond NDAs (as an aside, a lot of productions have these I don’t think it’s amoral that Viv had this) the crew is tight. When they hear how a site that they’ve heard through the grabevine hosted the guy who sent Viv rape porn*, even if the critique is from a user who hates that guy, THEY AREN’T GONNA HEAR THEM OUT. And they shouldn’t. They are tired and don’t want to be involved, at best (or want to move on from past drama) and biased towards Viv, at worst. They stick out for each other in the business and also who are you gonna stan if you were in their shoes? A person you don’t know on a forum you’ve seen post creepy shit OR your friend who paid you, promos you, talks to you and you like to work with?

Ask yourself honestly what you would do if someone said:

“hey I’m from [4chan/Kiwi, ED, Tapatalk, Reddit, ect]. I’m sorry for what happened but just so you know-”

I so get the crew just straight up blocking on sight. I don’t CONDONE it, but in a postGamerGate world I understand it.

AND when it comes to accusations made against the VAs, a producer, or one of the artists, and ESPECIALLY the creator - people are gonna just handwave it away convinced, it’s just whining or has alterier motives + again, friends stick together and choose sides...like Brock Baker’s :B

It’s popular so it’s gonna get love and hate. I know critics are not gonna like to hear the later, but it is true. It feels cathartic to dunk on a property when fans are crazy and you feel it’s overrated/bad. People feel good dunking on this mishandled, problematic clusterfugg cause they know not as many people are watching and unironically liking, say, Alfred Alfer ----- (please don’t look that or Emily Youcis up. Here’s the tvtropes page. Do not look beyond this point PLEASE)

Likewise, the clout surrounding the show is biased and detracted form being too mean as well. Everyone can tell there’s a kind of toxic mess under the covers but no one wants to deep dive or prod the details of something people are working on and liking so much, especially not when the loudest detractors are asshats like P.K. Russel.

A lot of merch has been sold and produced WELL BEFORE the rest of the shows or the finalized series/designs have been laid out. If nothing comes of either show it will be bad having all this merch hyping something that doesn’t exist. If it does but is so radically different than the vision in Viv’s and fan’s heads (these are both PILOTS, I’ll remind you) it’s gonna disappoint. I just know it.

People were writing Hazbin fanfics and AUs before the pilot was dropped and have made sequels to both before we have even a clear picture of what the ending is gonna be. People are in love and writing for a franchise they don’t know. They know the idea of it and the version of it in their head, but they don’t really know it.

The fandom can not take criticism. This is bad. Everyone is a critic and inside every critic is a nerdooo ~ ((critics do have fandoms and everyone will like something problematic for reasons)) Fans want to criticize but they’re scared of being ostracized from the fandom and kicked off of forums/servers, which has happened to two underage fans already. **

The fandom feels entitled to their ideas and to the creators’ attention. If it were any other fandom it is sooper cool that creators allow people to ship as they please, but not one that’s currently still in development and whose finalized characters haven’t been figured out. The babies have been sent into the battle field at only a few months old alongside veteran ship/canon/entitled cartoon fandoms like Steven Universe and Rick and Morty. It’s like the scene from mother! where the crowd dismembers and eats the baby.

Viv and has a serious influence on these people so even when her and a bunch of fans/artists are just gabbing about stupid memes on twitter, this invites a slew of onlookers to attack these people***. Despite the influence you can have or say to stop this behavior, it’s waaaay harder to put a stop to it than just saying “hey guys be nice” (Anyone else remember the inner-drama of Brony fandom? Like chuds would even take the word of the AskMolestiaMod to heart when their one goal was to take down the dreaded Essjaydoublewes that threatened their rape jokes).

Fans also have no boundaries. Sea also; Lincar Rox.

Being a netpositive doesn’t mean everything you say or do is devoid of critique. If you make vulgar/shocking adult content it will have fans and it will have detractors regardless of the positive intent. As I’ve said earlier, the problem with Viv’s works isn’t really the content but the context and the presentation. You can say Angel Dust is an inspiring character all you want. To some people that’s absolutely true but that does NOT absolve the fact that the it’s a cis woman writing and glamorizing an abused crossdressing gay man. People are gonna be offended and the creator needs tougher skin about this be it satire, parody, or drama.

*back when they were fixated on Zoophobia, there was a guy on Bad Webcomics Wiki/Tapatalk for the comic who posted art of Viv’s decapitated head getting raped by Angel Dust as a “joke”. Oh! and he also took the complaints the wiki had and made Viv and ED page. The rest of the forum was not happy but yeah that happened. The forum itself is the same as any reddit thread and NOT a hate site, but yeah um Viv has every right to quit after that, sorry.

The evidence is linked here in this google doc, which is why I linked it. (tbh I sympathize with the author but I don’t think it’s their place to say when Viv should have let the world known about the harassment porn )

**the underage fans who were bullied/blocked/demonized by creators are frootrollup1, for doing redesigned fan art, and StarVader from the Tapatalk/BWW forums, who was targeted and blamed by fans for Lincar’s shit. I’m not linking them for fear of their safety.

***The meme and twitter thread that went off the rails is one you’ll have to scroll down a bit through @gamergirluprising‘s post to see.

Okay that’s all.

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