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soulmate-game · 3 years

Note

Daughter of wonderwoman au where marinette finds out her mother is actually Diana and somehow it ends up with her meeting/being introduced to the batfam maybe because she has super strength and is seen yeeting some bad guys who tried to mug her... Or something.

“... you are running from your problems, Mari,” Adrien’s exasperated voice reminded his best friend. Again. She ignored him, and he threw his hands up in exasperation. “Look, you don’t have to do anything about it! Nobody would hold it against you if you decided to just, ignore that you found anything out at all. But you need to actually think about what we just found out and decide whether or not you’re gonna do anything—“ he side-stepped a piece of trash that went flying in his direction. “—or if you’re gonna move on and pretend nothing happened.”

“Isn’t that what I’m doing?” Marinette shot back, pushing her bangs out of her face and tying her hair back with one hand.

“No, you’re currently hiding away in Gotham to avoid your parents while you beat up every random group of idiots who thinks you’re an easy mark,” he retorted. Another wannabe kidnapper went flying in his direction, making him sigh and side step again. She had thrown that one with only her one free hand, showing just how upset she was. “You’re ignoring everything in your life, which is not what we meant we said you should get a little space.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Marinette dropkicked the last criminal into unconsciousness before stepping back and putting her hands on her hips. She looked over at the now seven passed out men in the alleyway, and the one very frustrated ex-model pinching the bride of his nose. “I think I’m coping just fine.”

“It’s better than being forced to suppress all of your emotions, sure,” Adrien reluctantly agreed. “But not by much. Your angry rampage through Gotham has already attracted more attention,” he raised his hand to point at a nearby rooftop. Several shadows lurked there, looming over the building’s edge. “Which, might I add, is exactly why I told you not to come to Gotham.”

“You’re the one who followed me here,” she shot back before turning to the shadowy figures above them. “Go ahead and come down! But it was self defense, and you can’t arrest or beat me up for defending myself!”

The first figure to drop down straightened your just as quickly, revealing the imposing figure of none other than Batman himself. The little white eyes on his cowl seemed to narrow on their own as he looked down at her.

“That might be true, but I’m sure you know my policy on metas in my city,” he grumbled back at her. He wasn’t necessarily threatening, but he definitely wasn’t welcoming either. With all of his limbs hidden behind the cocoon that was his cape, Marinette would never be able to predict his next move if he did decide to fight. Not that she seemed particularly worried about that as she crossed her arms over her chest and met his glare evenly.

“Oh, do you own this city now? I wasn’t given the memo,” she retorted. “And considering I didn’t even know I was a meta until last week? I think I deserve a little slack. I’m angry and if people think the tiny little girl in pink is an easy kidnapping target, then it’s their fault for making themselves into the perfect practice dummies for me to try out my newly discovered strength on.”

Adrien saw the eyes on Batman’s mask narrow even further. Marinette wasn’t exactly at her most charismatic at the moment, and Adrien didn’t wanna get the both of them into a bad relationship with the experienced superhero who always seemed to know things he shouldn’t know. So he stepped up quickly, getting in between Marinette and the Bat and holding his hands up in a placating gesture.

“Okay, Monsieur Batman,” Adrien started slowly, making sure his posture was impeccable and his smile bright. “She’s telling the truth, even if she’s not... the most tactful about it right now. She just found out some very concerning things about her origin and Gotham is the best place for her to hide from her problems and let loose a little pent up aggression. But— well,” he grimaced. “We didn’t intend to run into you guys, but maybe it’s a good thing we did.”

“How so?” Batman was clearly still incredibly suspicious of the both of them and wasn’t giving an inch. So Marinette rolled her eyes (she was still very moody) and leaned around Adrien so she could get a good look at the monochromatic hero.

“I thank my lucky spots that we ran into you, Batman!” She said monotonously. “Me and Adrien are paw-sitively excited at this opportunity.”

Batman. Froze.

Not only were those two lines the very first lines ever spoken to him by two foreign heroes a few years ago (with a few key words changed to protect identities), but they had become their code phrase for whenever they made calls to one another outside of their costumes. All at once it seemed to hit him— the golden hair and bright green eyes on the boy, the blue-black hair and normally super-focused bluebell eyes on the girl that were currently sporting very uncharacteristic frustration. Their heights. Their builds. All of this info flowed through his mind and compared to the information stored in his memory, and it only took the span of two seconds for everything to click.

Suddenly Batman was at full attention, back straight instead of looming over them and eyebrows clearly raised high under his cowl.

He knew Chat Noir and Ladybug would never take a random vacation to Gotham. Ladybug herself had nearly waxed poetic about how much the city depressed her just from the pictures she saw online. If she had willingly come to visit, it was more than to just blow off some steam.

“Batcave?” He asked, earning a relieved look from Adrien and a moody silence from Marinette.

“Please,” Adrien agreed. “You can probably help us, actually.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Marinette leaned back in the metal debriefing chair, legs up on the table and looking for all the world as the picture of pure teenage rebellion and angst. Coincidentally, Red Hood was in the exact same position in the chair next to her.

Batman and all of his other bats and birds were in the cave with the two off-duty Parisian heroes. Everyone except Adrien and Marinette still had their masks on, since the two Parisians were still not privy to their identities. Yet.

To be fair, the bats hadn’t known the identities of the two miraculous users either before today.

“Cha Noir,” Batman started, only to get a head shake from the blond boy.

“Just call me Adrien. Chat’s out of the bag—“ he ignored the groans at the pun and soldiered on, “—so might as well use my real name.”

Batman nodded. “Adrien, then,” he amended. “Why are you and Ladybug really in Gotham?”

Adrien sighed. “I wasn’t lying, before. Marinette,” he gestured to his hero partner. “Just found out some distressing family news. Since HawkMoth is gone, she doesn’t need to repress her negative emotions anymore. But she also didn’t want to be around her parents while she processed everything. I told her to choose any other city— really, I begged— but she insisted on coming to Gotham.”

“The never ending cloud cover and constant rain seem thematic,” she finally spoke up, reaching into her big over-the-shoulder bag and pulling out a large envelope. She threw it to Batman, making the thin package slice through the air like a knife. To nobody’s surprise the seasoned hero easily caught the projectile between two fingers. He looked at the envelope and back to Marinette, silent questions floating in the air between them. Marinette decided to answer at her own pace.

“That’s what we found out. You see, one of my friends is a huge science nerd. A genius. And he wanted to compare DNA samples between us to see if there were any genetic components that determined a person’s suitability towards certain Miraculous or other magical artifacts over others. It was supposed to just be a fun side project that he didn’t expect any breakthroughs on. He mostly just wanted to satisfy his own curiosity. But instead of finding out if our DNA was linked to the miraculous, he found out that my parents are not biologically my parents.”

“Hence the whole just finding out that you’re a meta thing, right?” Nightwing spoke up, fully invested in the story. “Did they never say you were adopted before?”

“It’s not in the system,” she replied easily. “My parents have all the documentation to prove that I’m their biological child, except I’m not. When I confronted them about it, they caved and admitted that they had adopted me in secret and covered it up. Apparently a friend of theirs was involved in something illegal, and,” she waved at the envelope that Batman was now opening. “The details of what we were able to dig up are in there. The summary is this; their friend was part of a secret, illegal experimentation to create clones that could defeat the Justice League—“ the air seemed to get sucked out of the room as soon as those words left Marinette’s mouth. Everyone seemed to know exactly what she was talking about. “—a group called CADMUS. They made me, as apparently one of their early attempts. But I didn’t exhibit any of the powers they were looking for, or any meta traits at all, and my body refused to mature at the rate they wanted. They had no use for a seemingly normal human baby that they managed to clone, so they were preparing to kill me and start over. That’s when my parent’s friend stole me, not wanting to kill an infant, and begged my parents to take me in and pretend I was theirs. Low and behold, it turns out that my DNA just needed a very specific series of emotions to unlock it’s latent abilities.”

“Those emotions being..?” Red hood trailed off, earning a wolfish smile from Marinette.

“Intense anger, betrayal, and confused frustration closely followed by the desire to punch other people’s faces in.”

“That last one is just an assumption,” Adrien chimed in. “And maybe not accurate. But the first three, our scientist friend was able to confirm. The rapid experience of a lot of negative but action-oriented emotions released whatever had been holding back the powers in her DNA from expressing themselves,” he had switched to French so that he could explain everything exactly as Max had told it to them, but he knew all of them were fluent anyway so it was fine. They nodded along, processing the information.

The crinkling of paper drew everyone’s attention back to Batman, who had been flipping through the detailed break down of everything they had found about Marinette’s situation and how she was made by CADMUS.

“Uh,” Red Robin nervously spoke up. “What’s up, Batman?”

“Your genetic donors...” Batman breathed, getting a wink and finger guns from Marinette.

“Yup. Isn’t that just the most fucked up thing you’ve ever seen? They were clearly trying to make someone who could destroy the world.”

“That makes me nervous,” Nightwing admitted, getting up and going to get a look at the papers himself. “It can’t be that ba—“

When even Nightwing was left agape, everyone else who wasn’t in on it found themselves squirming.

“Just tell the rest of us, already!” Robin demanded after the silence stretched just a bit too long.

“The unknowing genetic donors that CADMUS used to make me,” Marinette spoke up, still with her legs up on the table. “Are a very mad-scientist’s-wet-dream combination of Lex Luthor, Bruce Wayne, and Wonder Woman.”

“We don’t even know why they added Bruce Wayne’s DNA,” Adrien admitted. “Although our scientist friend thinks it’s because of physique. His hypothesis is that, in order to support the genes of Wonder Woman, they had to add male genetics that could support the production of a very high muscle mass and would lean towards easy development of a very athletic body. Lex might be evil-scientist smart, but he’s a string bean. But if he added the DNA of another multi millionaire who just so happens to maintain a ridiculously fit body without putting any obvious work into it,” Adrien shrugged. “Then maybe the clone would be able to support Wonder Woman’s genetics and that of two human donors without falling apart.”

“So I’m ‘the clone’ now, huh?” Marinette snarked, earning an exasperated eye roll from her friend.

Batman just stared at the both of them for a moment. He walked away without a word, and came back with a fresh needle and a box. He placed it on the debriefing table.

“Can I do a paternity test myself?” He asked, his voice suspiciously less gruff than normal. “I trust the both of you, but I rather be safe than sorry with something like this.”

The both of them just stared at him in confusion. They traded a glance, and finally Marinette shrugged and moved to sit in her chair properly. Her shirt was already short sleeved, so she just held her arm out so Batman could easily get a blood sample.

“Sure, why not. But do you just have Lex Luthor or Bruce Wayne’s DNA sitting around to compare, or—“ she shut up when she watched Batman take off his glove and roll his own sleeve up. Realization slowly sunk in as he asked Nightwing to take a blood sample from him.

“Holy shit,” she breathed, eyes wide. “You’re— and Luthor doesn’t know— holy shit this is even worse than I thought,” Marinette rambled, not even noticing as Red Hood moved forward and took a small blood sample from her.

Adrien put a hand over his face and just laughed for a moment hysterically. “Oh my god,” he looked over at Marinette. “You could take over the world.”

“I have the blood of Batman AND Wonder Woman on MY side,” Marinette joked back, also hysterical.

When the bat’s high tech equipment was able to come back with a positive result only a few minutes later, Marinette and Adrien had to sit on the floor and just let it all sink in. Which Batman did not at all help by immediately unmasking himself and trying to make a proper introduction.

“I wanna go beat up random thugs again,” Marinette whined, pulling at her hair. “I’ll put on a mask, whatever, but just please let me punch people. I need to punch people right now.”

#maribat #ml x dc #mlb x dc #soulmate-game #dc x miraculous #dc x mlb #bio!mom Wonder Woman #Bio!mom Diana prince #bio!dad Bruce Wayne #Bio!dad Batman #idk what this is #but it happened #and it’s something

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deleteddewewted · 3 years

Note

Hey, I just read your Kurogiri omega and was wondering if you could do a part 2, but with Kurogiri remembering his time in the AU when he was Obroro and how he met the alpha reader until the day of his "likely" death?!

I've been trying to find an excuse to continue that, so thank you for being that excuse, anon!

Omega! Kurogiri Part 2

🚨spoilers🚨

Kurogiri x M! Reader

Omega! Kurogiri Headcanons Part 1

TW: Angst, Death, Unhealthy Coping Mechanism

You couldn’t tell him he was your mate. It would place you and him in danger.

You kept going to Tartarus to visit him but decreased the frequency of them.

Kurogiri did not take this lightly.

You were leaving him again.

You both had built something meaningful and you were leaving.

Kurogiri laid down on the bed he was given and stared blankly ahead of him.

The world became dimmer as the time passed. Eventually his eyes closed and he drifted away to the lovely abyss of sleep.

“Shirakumo!” The blue mist haired boy turned around and spotted his two friends call out to him.

Yamada, the loud blond, was dragging the dark hair Aizawa with him. He looked eager to tell him something.

“Hey man! Uh, something going?” He asked. Yamada was way to energetic for it to be his usual and Aizawa didn’t look all that annoyed either.

“You won’t believe it man! One of our classmates is super hot!” Yamadas face held a small blush to it while Aizawa turned his head around to ignore them.

He was also blushing.

Shirakumo laughed at the two and wrapped his arm around Aizawa's neck.

"Oh really? Tell me more." He teased.

Yamada gave him an entire speech about how their classmate was hot as fuck and how the guys name was really pretty. He was fanboying over someone he barely knew.

Shirakumo thought it was cute how affected Yamada was by the new student so he couldn't wait to meet him.

When he did meet you, his inner omega purred.

Everything about you was perfect and beautiful to him.

He wanted to get to know you better.

Thats what allowed a friendship to bloom between you both.

He smiled a lot throughout the day but it became brighter when you would walk into the room.

His omega purred at him, begging him to get closer to you so he could take your scent in. Look at your beautiful eyes and your beautiful face.

You would catch him staring at you, the lingering trail of smokey blue hair giving him away every time.

You also liked him, a lot actually.

Easy on the eyes but with a big personality.

Welcoming, comforting, everything you would ever want in a significant other.

You found it endearing how he took the initiative to keep Aizawa away from rude and mean people.

You could also see how your guys friend, Yamada, would falter. His smile dropping for a moment when he thought no one was watching.

That always happened when Aizawa and Shirakumo were together.

You were all young, so it didn't matter who was dating who or what the future would hold. The now was more important then anything else.

Shirakumo contemplated what he could do to court you.

He jumped to the conclusion of courting instead of asking you if you were wanting to try a relationship with anyone.

He told Aizawa and the black haired boy just looked at him. His eyes saying something that his mouth wouldn't.

Didn't matter how well Shirakumo knew him, he didn't know how to read his eyes.

"Should i get him a bouquet? Maybe his favorite foods? Ah, i dont know what to do! Aizawa help me!" Aizawa recommended he just asked you out.

"You're so not romantic, but i still love you." He missed how much his words affected Aizawa. The black haired boys face was tinted red, his neck taking most of the blush he couldn't show on his cheeks.

Shirakumo made up every possible scenario inside of his own head and instead asked Yamada for some help.

"Yo! You should totally make a dramatic confession!" Shirakumo and Yamada planned everything out.

It did not go well.

You made it clear to him that you weren't looking for anything at the moment and that you just wanted to be friends with him.

Shirakumo and his omega became upset. His spring like scent became muddled, dirty water and a harsh smell overlaying itslef in a thick blanket.

His personality didn't change around you, he was still smiles and laughter.

When class would finish he would walk with Aizawa back to the train station and vent about everything you did that day.

"He looked so handsome eating that pudding and the way he leaned on his arm. So hot." Shirakumo sighed.

Aizawa felt very conflicted. He was happy for his friend but something else made itself present when he spoke about being with you.

Shirakumos pinning wouldn't stop and it finally got to a point were he would openly flirt with you.

You didn't mind it, in reality, you were as much of a flirt back.

This game between the two of you played out with him complementing you with big charades.

You would be more tactile. Occasionally touching his arms or running your hands threw his smoke hair.

It was pleasant. His hair parting into tendrils and at times having a mind of its own.

It would wrap itself around your wrist preventing you from removing your hand.

Enough time had passed that you felt like pursuing something more with him.

Something more romantic.

Shirakumo dragged you to the roof top one day.

All he said was that it was important.

"I like you, a lot. You're just so...handsome and pretty and beautiful and everything else thats good really." He stopped and began to walk around the roof top of the school.

"My omega is going nuts with your scent and it honestly drives me crazy too." Shirakumo danced around you.

"If you only knew how much i want to hold you and kiss you every time you help Aizawa out. That one time you helped that omega by fighting those meat heads off of them. Purring for you, baby!" Shirakumo got close to the roofs edge.

"Everything about you makes me and my omega want you. I-" Shirakumo slipped from the edge and fell.

You ran to catch him, maybe you could save him.

Shirakumo would most likely die, you wouldn't get there on time to catch him.

Your heart pulled with dread and dropped when you heard him scream.

Then, a peak of mist made itself seen from the edge of the roof.

“Shirakumo!” You yelled at him as he floated above you.

He flew around in his cloud, circling around you laughing.

“Was that intentionally?” You asked once he got down from his cloud.

His face became red as he watched you look at him expectingly.

“Ah, yeah?” You laught at his response and pulled him towards you.

You ran your fingers threw his smoke like hair and cupped his cheek in your hand, thumb gently caressing his face.

“You know? You should really stick to just two word phrases. I don’t think you have the mental capacity or brain cells for anything more.” You teased.

He gave you a goofy smile while he practically melted into your touch.

You were heaven and safety for him.

His inner omega begging him to ask you to be his mate. To bond. To do everything with you.

To be yours and you be his alpha.

His mouth a body moved on their own. He couldn't stop himself from getting closer to you and wrapping his arms around you.

"I'm sorry,” He stared at your eyes and admired them more a moment, “but you’re to perfect to just put into two words.”

Shirakumo closed the gap between you two and kissed you.

Both you and him, and your secondary sexes, we’re overwhelmed and overjoyed.

It was a thrilling emotion that coursed through you. The giddiness of being able to say that this was someone you would like to invest all of your time on.

You both loved each other so much, nothing in that moment or the ones to come could ruin that.

Then in your second year, Aizawa brought you Shirakumos speaker.

It was battered and broken. Wet.

Destroyed.

Aizawa said nothing to you, the other alpha walked away from you without batting an eye or even acknowledging the blond beta running after him.

You felt your legs give way as you fell to the floor. Vision becoming blurry and warm streaks falling down your face.

“So what should we do? We both want to mate but we can’t risk our careers.” “Don’t worry about Y/n. You’re already my mate. My omega is telling me that you’ve already been accepted and naturally, I’m always glad to call you mine. Fuck the rules!” “Sure, whatever you say, my mate.”

The happy memories and the planned out future you both had with each other was now just a dream.

It was delusion you had set yourself up for.

Your mate was gone.

“So that’s who you are.” Kurogiri spoke into the empty cell. The dream having woken him up.

He turned to lay on his side and stared at the invisible cell door.

He didn’t attempt to fall back to sleep.

You laid awake in bed, face pressed into an old jacket that was clearly worn down.

It was faded in color and no longer had that signature scent you adored so much.

It no longer smelled like spring.

Or like fresh air.

It smelled like you and your laundry detergent.

Your mate was dead and you both never got the chance to make it official.

Would never have a family of your own. Never have your first anything together.

Never have another moment with each other.

He was gone and yet still here.

Your mate was a terrorist who found no issue in killing others.

“Goodnight…my omega. Sweet dreams, Oboro.” You drifted off to sleep once your eyes closed.

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nothing-more-than-hot-leaf-juice · 4 years

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here lies the complete story of the Crocverse (AtLA zukka modern AU)

The general facts are as follows:

Iroh owns a croc store and Zuko works there

Sokka works at Trader Joe’s and loves crocs

Bending is a thing

Jeong Jeong owns an antique store and is furious the croc store ruined the vibe of the strip mall

Sokka and Zuko go on a date to Olive Garden

Toph and Zuko hate crocs

Bumi owns a Jamba Juice

Worldbuilding

This takes place in Florida

Bending is a thing, but it is unclear whether or not the Avatar is a thing

The 2008 financial crisis was a thing that happened in this universe

Characters

Iroh is the new owner of the strip mall Croc store. He loves and appreciates crocs in a big dorky way.

Zuko is his disgruntled nephew who works at the Croc store. He hates crocs with a passion and is in kind of a Linkin Park phase. (He is not an eboy, no one is an eboy, society has moved past the need for eboys.)

Sokka works at the local Trader Joe’s. He wears Hawaiian shirts all the gd time. He is incredibly excited about the croc store and gets addicted to buying crocs. He also likes wearing a ‘men want me, fish fear me’ hat and sometimes completes his ensembles with fanny packs.

Katara works at a Petsmart.

Jeong Jeong owns an antique store next to the croc store and is pissed that the croc store ruined the vibe of the strip mall.

It is undecided whether or not Aang works at Bumi’s Jamba Juice or if he works at the Trader Joe’s bakery. Regardless, he’s more of a Birkenstocks guy and finds that crocs and airbending don’t really work together.

Piandao is the Trader Joe’s manager.

Hakoda is currently deployed and Sokka is trying his best to cope (with unhealthy shopping habits).

Dynamics

Zuko goes to Jamba Juice a lot. Toph also goes to Jamba Juice a lot. They become buds because they go ‘well we’re both loners going into school with few or no friends and we both love Jamba Juice and hate crocs, that’s as good a place as any to start a friendship’

Sokka loves to explore Jeong Jeong’s antique store. Jeong Jeong considers Sokka to be a local menace (and he’d never say it but he’s his local menace and would be hurt if Sokka started poking around another antique store).

Iroh really wants to be friends with Jeong Jeong (who could honestly use a friend, he’s kind of a hermit). Jeong Jeong is firmly annoyed that Iroh ruined the vibe of the strip mall.

Zuko likes hanging out at the antique store and occasionally runs into Sokka. He voices his displeasure for the croc store on multiple occasions and Jeong Jeong feels incredibly validated.

Zuko has kind of just planned to not have friends for his senior year. Iroh thinks that unacceptable.

Iroh loves Sokka’s outfits a whole lot and compliments them all the time (while also trying to set him up with Zuko as friends).

Sokka initially thinks Zuko is just kind of weird and asocial, but then one day at Petsmart he’s bothering Katara at work and he sees Zuko sitting on the floor of the reptile section just looking at all the tanks. Katara tells Sokka that Zuko basically does this every other day and Sokka realizes how soft this guy is and just kind of goes ‘oh’.

Sokka goes to the crocstore and buys some pride crocs to send a message to Zuko. Zuko is oblivious.

Eventually, Sokka pulls the “so… do you want to do an activity together?” and Iroh comes over with a “he’d LOVE to” and gives them an Olive Garden gift card.

Sokka hopes Zuko thinks this is an actual date, Zuko is unclear on whether or not this is a date but puts on a button down shirt just in case, and Iroh doesn’t realize it’s 100% a date until Zuko comes out with his shirt and Iroh decides that it is of the utmost importance that he does Zuko’s hair.

The details of the date have been decided on….but @animegenork is writing the actual fic and if you really want the sweet, soft zukka details you’ll have to wait. All I’ll say is there are turtleducks and smooching involved.

Relevant Backstory

Iroh didn’t actually want to own a croc store. He used to own his own tea/coffee store, but when the economy tanked and his son died, it ended up going bust.

Iroh didn’t have much contact with his brother after Lu Ten died because Ozai was an unsympathetic asshole about it. The last time he saw his brother’s family was at Azulon’s funeral.

A few years after the falling out with Ozai (and Iroh’s contact with his niece and nephew being basically reduced to birthday phone calls) Iroh finally upgrades to an iPhone with Facetime. When he calls for Zuko’s birthday, Iroh is VERY FUCKING DISPLEASED to see that someone has burned off half of Zuko’s face (and it doesn’t take much thinking for him to guess who).

Iroh scoops Zuko up ASAP and Zuko moves in with him.

Iroh attempts to bring Azula, but she firmly does not want to go with him and Iroh can’t exactly just kidnap a child in this day and age.

So instead of reinvesting in a new tea shop, Iroh invests his time in legal work to go after Ozai for being the Fucking Worst™.

He also puts Zuko in therapy, because god knows the kid needs it.

Iroh worked in middle management for various retail stores and landed a management position in a croc store. Eventually, he opened up his own branch in Florida (which is where our story starts).

And really, it wasn’t Iroh’s dream to own a croc store, but he accepts that life doesn’t always go exactly how you plan it. Iroh recognizes that what he can focus on is bringing joy to people and trying to project kindness into the world every day. Maybe you end up onwing a croc store. Maybe you’re in a bunch of bs legal crap because your brother is a monster and there are two kids who need someone, but you can make the best of it and it doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy simple pleasure where you find them.

Other details

The Crocverse is a Mouth Wheat Boy Free Zone. Jet is just not a croc person. Jet has no reason to enter the croc store. This AU does not have room for Jet. I’m sorry Jet stans. (I’m not.)

Zuko and Sokka are upcoming high school seniors (age 17).

Katara is an upcoming junior (16), Aang is an upcoming sophomore (15), and Toph is an upcoming freshman (14).

The swampbenders are frequent patrons of the croc store because they’re good for marshy areas.

The only people who are actually croc enthusiest in this world are Sokka and Iroh.

Sokka likes wearing neon turquoise crocs the most.

Sometimes Iroh wears rainbow tie dye crocs to support his gay nephew .

Final words

This is what I meant when I said the Crocverse was never really about the crocs. The crocs were just a framing device, they’re just how we got here. At its core, the crocverse is about these characters and their struggles, and more importantly how they find each other despite the struggles. It’s about Zuko learning how to make friends. It’s about Iroh wanting the best for his nephew and trying to make the best of a less than ideal situation. It’s about Sokka trying to figure out what to do now that his dad is gone and learning how to open up about it instead of cope with unhealthy shopping habits and deflection. It’s about going to Petsmart and spending an hour looking at the reptiles because you deserve it. It’s about going to Jamba Juice and making friends with the other loners. It’s about learning that you don’t have to be alone. It’s about ditching Olive Garden for a better date somewhere else and smooching the ridiculous Hawaiian shirt Trader Joe’s employee because he’s funny and caring and maybe, just maybe, you deserve that. It’s about letting new people enter your life when you think you have to be alone. It’s about being teenagers together before life starts for real. It’s about, above all else, finding those weirdos who will be there for you and accept you for all your quirks and baggage.

And that’s the Crocverse. I will shut up about it forever now.

#the crocverse #I'll shut up about it forever now #it's not ABOUT the crocs #the crocs are just how we got here #thank you for your time #zuko #sokka #iroh #jeong jeong #aang #toph #katara #hot leaf content #modern au

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wannabe-fic-writer · 3 years

Text

All Over Again - Chapter 1

Summary: What was lost can be found. - DC & Marvel AU

Pairings: Lena x Reader ; Implied Natasha x Reader ; Platonic!Avengers x Reader ; Platonic!Superfriends x Reader

Warning: 18+ Smut, Language, Violence

* * * * * *

Sighing, you splay yourself out on the grass, looking up at the distorted view of the sky as the red leaves of the tree above you sway. The gentle breeze sends a chill over your skin but it’s much too calming for you to move.

“Am I going to have to start carrying jackets around with me again?”

The familiarly sultry voice meets your ears over the sounds of nature. It makes your heart thump faster like it always had but this time an ache accompanies it. Her joking tone holds an underlying nervousness and you have to resist the urge to scoff at the drastic change in your conversations together.

You could never forget the moment everything shifted. Your entire relationship with Natasha fell to pieces. All the love and trust that had grown stronger each year that you were together seemed to mean nothing to her suddenly.

Months on the run from the U.S. government, planning your futures together, it blew to hell in literal seconds.

Everything you’d grown to know and love was pulled out from underneath you with three simple words: Hi, Bruce. Followed by the awkward pause and nervous, Nat.

Hope rose in your girlfriend’s eyes and you were unsure why. The main reason being that you were recruited by Fury during the Sokovia incident. You never met the infamous Bruce Banner turn Hulk, and didn't know about his history with your girl. And Natasha hadn’t found it necessary to tell you about it either.

Which left you in the dark and completely blindsided by Natasha’s decision to end things with you. Simply telling you she owed it to herself to see where things with Bruce went. And you being the person you are and loving Natasha the way that you do, you wanted her to be happy despite your heartbreak.

All of that rested on your shoulders at the same time that Thanos appeared. Your broken heart seemed to shatter further when you lost your best friend Wanda and the many friends you’d gained.

For five years you hurt. Grieving your lost friends and dealing with your broken heart. It seemed as though Natasha breaking up with you wasn’t even worth it as Banner left after Thanos and they didn’t see each other for five years.

Even after the five years though, you still were coping with your heartbreak despite the Avengers having gotten rid of Thanos for good. As you then had the privilege of seeing Natasha and Bruce together. And you could admit that they look good together, happy.

Which means you need to find your own. You just aren’t sure how.

You take a deep breath and look up at the redhead who’s watched you in your silence.“ I hadn’t planned on staying out here long so I didn’t grab one.” You respond, deciding to ignore her not so subtle hint at your relationship and personal quirk.

Jackets are just the last thing you think about before you leave out and Natasha used to take it upon herself to bring one for you whenever you were with her.

She smiles tightly and nods,“ okay. Well I was just coming to let you know that Steve and Bucky are almost done with dinner.”

When you nod in answer Natasha waits, silently debating if she wanted to say anything else or not, but chose not to and finally walked away. You waited a few extra minutes before pushing yourself up and heading toward the compound.

As you’re walking up to the door, your red leather clad friend lands beside you, her magic vanishing from her hands before she flings her arms around you.

“Hello to you too.” You chuckle, hugging her back.

Wanda smiles brightly,“ hi.”

A small smile of your own hitting your lips. You’d missed the young woman as she was away on a mission with Sam. They weren’t far, just on the East Coast, but they’d been gone for a week, which was more than enough for you to begin to miss her.

Before either of you step into the building, she grabs your hand and laces your fingers together, gently tugging you off to the side. Soft light green eyes stare back sympathetically,“ how are you?”

“Wan-” you sigh, running a hand up and through your hair.

“I’m just worried about you.” A little pout hits her lips followed by a joking smile,“ and I’m kind of the only reason you’re sane.”

You throw your head back with a laugh. Then shaking your head and wrapping an arm around her shoulders,“ I’m fine Wanda. Thank you for the concern and sanity.”

Placing a quick kiss to her temple, you guide her into the building, more than happy to have your best friend back.

Like Natasha had told you, Steve and Bucky already have the table set and everyone is sitting around. No matter how hard you try, your gaze finds Bruce and Natasha, the man leans over to say something to her and a cute smile rises, reminding you of the one you’d caused her to have before.

A squeeze of your hand pulls your eyes away and you nod to Wanda before sitting down beside her. Usual chatter circles the table, Sam and Wanda talking a bit about the mission briefly, and then asking all of you about what’s been going on.

By the end of dinner you’re a mix of annoyed and happy. Your friends had made you laugh and smile just like usual, except every time you got lost in the joy of it all you forgot what was across from you and your gaze caught the image of Natasha and Bruce flirting, laughing, and smiling. It makes you so upset that you still wish it were you with her.

It’s been six years! What happens to time heals all wounds? Was that just a load of shit? Would you genuinely have to deal with being all bitter and jealous for the rest of your life.

“Welp,” you smack your hands to your thighs,“ Steve, Buck, dinner was incredible, thank you, but I have a few things I need to attend to so if you’ll excuse me.” Standing, you grab your plate and glass.

“Not so fast Y/Ln,” his voice rings clear not but a second after you walked away.“ You’re all here for once so I’d like to inform you that you’ll all be attending the Stark Industries Investment dinner tomorrow night.” Tony smiles, eyes crinkling in the corners.

Your eyes narrow,“ what exactly would the Avengers be doing for your companies investors.”

“Persuading, encouraging, indulging. Investors would kill to hear mission stories and about all your equipment.” His tone is sweet, as if he’s trying to convince you all to come.

A party/dinner isn’t exactly what you’re feeling up to right now. And quite frankly it’s not necessary for every Avenger to show up.

From the looks of Steve’s face he isn’t going but you still have a bit of hope that is, until he speaks up,“ Bucky and I have a mission.”

Tony gives an expectant gaze to the rest of you.

“I’m always down to party.” Sam shrugs nonchalantly before returning to his food, pretty sure this is his third plate.

Bruce sighs,“ I’m under the impression that this isn’t an option for me.”

Tony’s grimace is answer enough, but he still says,“ it is not. Also, no offense, probably don’t show up all big and green. The venue is large but-”

“Ah ah ah I got it.” The big green man waves his hand, then smiling down at Natasha,“ mind accompanying me?” She instantly smiles and nods and that small little gesture is enough for you to head out.

Further, Tony goes,“ Maximoff?”

And Wanda responds,“ I’ll only go if Y/n does.”

Dammit Wanda!

Turning on your heel, you have every intention of saying no. Only to find her giving you that damn pout, followed by her whispering,“ please.”

“Alright whatever.”

With that you leave, cleaning your dishes, and then going straight to bed. In the morning you take extra care to avoid Natasha, you eat while she’s in the gym, only going to train after she’s long gone, and eating lunch on the roof with Wanda.

You make it as far as into the venue for the Investment dinner before you have to see her again. Even then you wish you were blind.

God she’s beautiful. It’s criminal the way that dress fits on her. And just as your eyes trail up her long legs and over the curves of her body to her piercing green eyes, her looking back at you pulls you to reality.

You no longer have the right to look at her that way. No matter how good she looks, you can’t look at her like that. No, the man beside her is the only person who carries that privilege.

“I’m gonna need a drink to get through this.” You sigh, beeligning for the bar instead of your seat.

Wanda sticks close to you, definitely having seen your staring.

Leaning against the bar, you wait for the bartender to come your way, then asking for an old-fashioned and you wait. Beside you, Wanda’s eyes flicker over the room, a nervousness in them.

“Hey,” you nudge her arm with your elbow,“ I’d say it’s not that bad but it is.” The young woman’s eyebrows raise but you wave it off,“ you just have to put up with most people speaking to you like you know less because you make less. Other than that it’s alright.”

As she takes in your words, you accept your drink from the bartender and hand Wanda a flute of champagne. She’s not a drinker but the little boost is needed.

With a reassuring smile to her and the last swig of your drink and guide her through the scattered crowd to Pepper. The blonde is more than happy to walk Wanda around, introducing her to a few people while you make rounds on your own.

Just like usual, most conversations revolve around everyone else’s business, or the occasional question about your work that you can’t even discuss. But you manage to do as Tony asked, impressing them with talks of your abilities and that of which you can disclose.

Majority of the people you talk to take a liking to you, or at least the superhero you, and you convince them to invest in Stark Industries, giving the whole “a company that leads in medical and technological advancements” spiel.

“Still hate these things huh.”

Breathing in deeply, you exhale and turn to face Natasha. Her green eyes watch you cautiously and you’re in genuine disbelief that the badass Black Widow is so wary of you. Since the breakup she’s interacted with you as if she’s afraid you’ll hurt her.

You lick your lips,“ Natasha you speak to me like you don’t know me anymore.”

A sigh falls from her lips and she looks down at the bracelet on her wrist,“ I know. I’m sorry I just- I don’t want to say anything I shouldn’t.”

“Right,” you scoff lowly.“ You don’t have to worry about my feelings anymore I promise.”

“Y/n I-”

“Nat.” Bruce approaches, completely oblivious to the awkward tension flowing between you and his girlfriend.“ I’m sorry, do you mind if I steal her away for a moment.”

You smile bitterly,“ oh she is all yours.”

Green eyes look at you with an unreadable emotion but you brush it off, walking away with a glance back that reveals Bruce twirling the redhead on to the dance floor.

You square your shoulders with a deep inhale and head back to the one place that you’ve been able to breathe tonight.

“Another old fashioned please.” The lady nods and quickly makes the drink and you smile in thanks.

Taking a long swig from the dark liquor, you sigh contentedly at the burning trail down your throat. Your few seconds of peace interrupted by a deep voice speaking cockily.

“A beautiful girl like yourself drinking dark liquor leads me to believe you’re not enjoying yourself.” The man smiles brightly showing off his, no doubt surgically whitened, teeth.“ Perhaps I could change that for you.”

Narrowing your eyes at him, you pointedly down the rest of the drink, and tap the bartop in call for another.“ Bold of you to assume that I’m not having a good time.”

Before he can reply with his planned flirtatious remark, a lightly accented soft voice joins in,“ I’m sure Mister Richards meant no harm, he’s just a rather presumptuous man.” Her statement has you turning back to see who it came from.

Your eyes meeting the most gorgeous woman you’d ever seen. A sentiment you didn’t think you’d ever make after Natasha.

Her black hair pulled back into a neat ponytail, not a single strand falling loose. Beautiful light green eyes stare back accompanied by a red lipped white tooth smile.

In your daze of taking in her appearance you miss what she says to Mister Richards, but it sends him away, leaving the two of you alone.

“Um, forgive me for this, no doubt, repetitive question but, what company are you here representing?” Your eyes subconsciously trail down the line of her jaw and it’s incredibly hard to draw your attention away when she speaks.

“Luthor Corp.” Her lips turn up into an almost knowing smile and it has you quickly looking up into her eyes, heart pounding when you realize you’d been caught staring at her lips.“ I’m Lena Luthor.”

Clearing your throat, you hold your hand out to her,“ Y/n.” You expected a warm hand but while it’s soft, it’s fairly cold.“ Thanks for the save Miss Luthor.” Your hand returns to your glass, the chill of it like that of her hand.

“It was nothing, I could tell from across the bar he’d said something you didn’t like.” She makes mention.

You grimace, a soft chuckle falling after,“ you’ll have to forgive me, controlling my expression isn’t a mastered craft as of yet.”

She waves you off, casually leaning her side against the bar as her drink is sat down,“ it takes years, I’m still working on it. Come to enough of these and you’ll get it.”

“Oh I’ve been to plenty,” her eyebrow quivers at that,“ I’ve just never been good at. . .lying. No offense to you in any way, I think you’re ability to deal with all this social-”

“Bullshit.” She finishes for you with a chuckle.

Nodding, you laugh as well,“ yeah that. It’s a true superpower Miss Luthor, and of my many, that is not one.”

“Superpower is a stretch.”

Your eyes narrow at her, a small smirk on your lips,“ something tells me it isn’t.”

Throughout your continued conversation, her charm and genuine goodness radiates off of her. The woman listens intently to you speak, she makes you laugh, and indulges all your questions with zealous passion.

As the night goes on neither of you find much entertainment outside of your little space at the bar. Not wanting to go home inebriated, you’d long since switched your liquor for plain club sodas, Lena suggesting the addition of cherry grenadine just for flavor.

“The idea is brilliant, which I’m sure you know, I just think it has more potential than power storage. What if you used it as a power core instead.” You shrug simply.

Lena’s hand halts in movement, the drink in her cup sloshing slightly as the action,“ that’s genius. But it wouldn’t be easy. I’ve toyed with alien energy before, it’s much more powerful than expected.”

“Which, I think, makes it all the more useful. Depending on how strong, you could power an entire village or a small town. Imagine giving small pieces of the core to third world countries.”

An amused smile tugs at her lips for the nth time tonight,“ is your first thought always to help others or is that just the Avenger in you?”

You chuckle,“ myself and the hero. I just don’t see why we wouldn’t use the knowledge and resources we obtain, alien and human, to help those who truly need it.”

Lena’s mouth opens in preparation for her next reply, however it doesn’t come as a body weakly collides with yours. Wide eyed you look over to see your best friend, obviously drunk, leaning on you.

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere. You have to try the strawberry cake thingies.” Wanda tugs at your arm in a childlike manner.

Frowning in Lena’s direction, the CEO shrugs. Gentle grabbing Wanda’s shoulders, you turn her to face you,“ what strawberry cake?”

She smiles,“ the ones on the tray Y/n. The servers are walking around with- oO right here.” Fast as lightning, her hand shoots out and she grabs a small plate off the servers tray. Three little white chocolate truffles sit on it with milk chocolate drizzled over.“ Try.”

“O-” your reply cuts when she shoves a piece in your mouth. As good as it is, your eyes widen for an entirely different reason. Your tongue runs over your bottom lip as if to ensure you’re tasting what you’re tasting.“ Wan, how many of these have you eaten?”

Her hand raises to show three of her fingers.

Yep. The small woman ate nine strawberry champagne truffles. She’s drunk.

Lena, wanting to understand, retrieves one of the truffles and bites into. Her response is the same as yours.

With an apologetic smile you look at her,“ I hate to cut the conversation short but I should probably get her home.”

“Of course of course. Hopefully we’ll be able to continue sometime.” She smiles sweetly and you nod.

After a short wave to her, you gather yours and Wanda’s things, and leave the building.

“Y/n!”

You freeze in step, tightening your hold on Wanda’s waist and pushing your free hand into your pocket, then turning to the source of the voice.

Pepper takes the stairs quickly but with all the grace of a trained performer. She stops on the same step as you and smiles a little.“ I had to catch you before you left, Lena Luthor wanted me to give you this, and let you know that she’s expecting you at Luthor Corp soon.”

A slight frown pulls your eyebrows closer together as you stare down at the business card, her personal number scrawled on the back,“ did she say why?” Pepper simply shakes her head.

Truthfully she hadn’t been expecting Lena to approach her about you. Mainly because she had no idea the two of you met, she swore she’d introduced you to every investor there tonight.

“Okay, how soon is soon?”

An apprehensive smile tugs at her lips, brows raised slightly,“ four days.”

#lena luthor #lena luthor x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #mcu #mcu x reader #dcu #dcu x reader #reader insert #all over again

447 notes · View notes

cloverfics · 3 years

Text

v-day ; levi squad + hange

warnings just cute stuff with my babies 🥺

genre fluff, modern au

word count 0.7k

inspo honestly, i’m going through an armin brainrot phase so

synopsis still sad and mourning so here's how i cope with aot ( again )

a/n i miss sasha so i needed to make one of these for valentines day activities ( isayama, if you ever see this. i’m under your bed 😐 )

eren yeager;

literally gone when you wake up

and you know exactly why ‘cause he does it every year

to say eren goes all out for valentines day would be an understatement

even though it happens every year, you never get tired of his planned out scavenger hunts

he has you run around the city for clues and it brings you to places the both of you have been before and of course, it ends with you meeting him at some restaurant or even back at home

( you prefer the restaurant because i headcanon that eren cannot cook for shit )

but still it’s really romantic and he will not hesitate to do it again ( or something even better ) the following year

armin arlert;

plain and simple, you’re not allowed to lift a finger

he brings you breakfast in bed, he’s giving you presents, he’s running you a bath, literally anything you want he’ll do it for you

( it’s like this on a regular basis but he denies that )

and he’ll make you both a dinner ( which is actually good )

and you guys would probably spend the rest of the night in this extravagant fort ( that armin built without a word ), watching romcoms

levi ackerman;

you never expect much every year but you never expect nothing

levi doesn’t really favor valentines day, he thinks it’s stupid and just a money grabber but ask that man to buy you a bouquet and he’s out the door

he’ll give it to you with a grimace while muttering something but you still find it romantic

but of course, grumpy still believes in the money grabbing part so he insists you guys stay in every year and he’ll cook instead

which you don’t mind ( again, ‘cause it’s actually good compared to w.e eren would’ve made )

every valentines day to date with levi has ended with some cheesy chick flick and he acts like he hates them but he’s definitely invested

hange zoë;

y’all are on vacation

every single year hange refuses to stay home for valentines day because they think it’s boring and generic

so, ( even though you think it’s too expensive), hange flies you guys out somewhere to spend the occasion

“we don’t need to fly out to the bahamas, hange. it’s just valentines day.”

“but i already booked the flight.”

you can’t complain though because spending your valentines day with hange on a beach is something you don’t mind doing every time february comes around

sasha braus;

no matter what the circumstances are, y’all are gonna eat out on valentines day

snow, rain, hail, y’all are going somewhere with food and sasha is determined

and always after your dinners, you guys go home and try to make a valentines day themed treat

which is typically unsuccessful because you have sasha as your own personal human trash disposal but it’s still romantic in the moment

jean kirstein;

just like levi, he’ll say valentines day is pointless but he’ll still have a table booked at some fancy restaurant “just because”

trust me, in the same breath he denies the fact he cares about the occasion he’ll be bending over backwards to get you a good gift

and he manages outdoes himself every year somehow and will still claim the day is stupid

definitely that one mfer that puts roses on the bed for “atmosphere purposes” when you open said gift

connie springer;

seriously, valentines day with connie is fun

he never sticks to anything annually

one year you’ll celebrate at the amusement park, or at a fancy restaurant, one year even landed you two at mcdonald’s but with connie it was all the same

i definitely see you guys just staying in one year and making personal cards for each other

it’s a complete mess of glitter, glue, markers, and stickers but with the amount of laughter it doesn’t matter

his card definitely had a corny dirty joke as the punchline but at this point you consider it romance

mikasa ackerman;

mikasa and valentines day simply don’t mix

kind of like jean and levi, she doesn’t understand it. but like genuinely, she doesn’t

“why do i need a special day to be sweet to you? i do that every day already.”

so, every year you have to turn the tables and do things for her that honestly come as a surprise

she genuinely never expects the presents you get her but she always shows her gratitude and thankfulness

and she keeps every one of them very close to her, literally still sleeps with the bear you won her on your first v—day date at a carnival

149 notes · View notes

sooibian · 3 years

Text

Twist of Fate

image credits: @/exoxoxoid (twitter)

Pairing: Criminal Psychologist Kyungsoo x Crime Reporter OC (Miss Jung) ft. Minseok, Jongin

Description: Much against your wishes, you are back in your hometown to write about the murders of two young women - your only ticket out is the criminal psychologist who has been assisting Superintendent Kim Minseok with offender profiling.

Inspired by: Sharp Objects, The Fall and this moodboard by @is-that-baekhyuns-shirt

Tags/Warnings: Serial killer AU - angst, grief, loss, murders, descriptions of anxiety, reactive and attentive immobility, asphyxiation, indicative of humiliation, explicit and graphic situations. Please do not read onward if any of this triggers or upsets you!!!!

Word count: +3.7k

A/N: ...i need to stop watching crime dramas.

@leewalberg @his-mochi-cheeks @changshapatrol

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When you left Cheongsong, you’d left for good. Or so you’d thought.

Ten years later what brought you back was not your family, for you had none left, but the murders of two young women that had left the quaint little town, surrounded by hills artistically contoured by apple orchards, shaken and distraught.

Everyone knew each other in Cheongsong which should have made Superintendent Kim Minseok’s job easier, but he was caught in an ugly snare of emotions which seemed to have clouded his critical thinking faculties. These were people he knew closely, people he’d grown up with. For him, pointing fingers at any of them meant carving permanent cracks in relationships that were stronger than most familial ties.

“Off the record, then”, you shoved your scratchpad back into your purse, turned off the recorder with a click and looked at Minseok square in the eyes, only to find the amiable, portly, catlike footballer you went to school with hidden in their farthest, darkest depths - reduced to a mere whimsy. The memories of the man who sat before you, now seemed abysmally distorted by the colossal burden of the unknown.

“It never is.” He chuckled darkly, took a measured sip of his bourbon and rolled it around his tongue before swallowing. “Never thought I’d see you here again.”

“That makes two of us. Write about killings in your hometown...it makes an impact because it’s personal, my boss says. We’re to...exploit the fact that nobody substantial is covering this.” You recited, eyes trained on the sliver of grime on the coaster.

Minseok clicked his tongue in disapproval and enquired, “Where have you been staying?”

“A guest house by the Country Club.”

“So, not the Mansion”, he remarked callously.

Wounds that had barely healed came undone at the mention of your family home. Your throat tightened and you felt as if you had been shanked with a broken bottle in the stomach. The ill fated house reeked of misfortune, grief and loss. Its inhabitants had fallen one by one like lined up dominoes. This curse had forced you out to start a new life in Seoul.

“It’s still quite well kept, you know.” Minseok stated matter-of-factly.

Taking a deep swig of your bourbon, you explained earnestly as the burn of the liquid blazed down your throat, “Minseok, I want nothing more than to get out of here. So, please, give me something. A nugget.”

“I don’t want to be quoted on this. Or misquoted. This is all new to me as well. Two bodies in three months? Can you imagine?” Overcome with emotion, he ran a hand through his hair and squeezed his eyes shut.

You put a comforting hand on his and offered in a voice laced with empathy, “Listen, from where I stand, all you need is a new line of inquiry and linking these two murders would give you one. I’ve seen the pictures.”

You swiped through images of two dark haired women on your phone - Park Soojin and Seo Jinri. Both of them were in their late twenties. They lay in their own beds as if soundly asleep, modesty protected only by sheer white blankets, crimson tinted lips parted ever so slightly, freshly painted nails shining in dim lighting. And roses. There were a couple of red roses placed by their side as if in condolence. The blood curdling strangulation marks around their necks made them look like dreadfully divine paintings.

“They could be sisters”, you observed with moist eyes, voice hushed to a whisper.

Contemplating on the images with pursed lips, Minseok responded with a tight nod and waved a 50,000 bill in the waitress’ general direction.

“Where’d you find these?” He asked in a threateningly calm voice, averting his eyes from your apparently disagreeable gaze.

“You know that’s confidential”, you replied, half-shrugging, nonchalant.

“I’ll drop you home”, he muttered, and shoved his wallet in the back pocket of his jeans.

With a defeated sigh you grabbed your purse and phone and proceeded to follow Minseok out of the only bar in Cheongsong, “No, it’s fine. I could use a walk.”

Suddenly, he turned around, searched your eyes for a fleeting second before admitting begrudgingly, “Kim Jongin. He’s the prime suspect in the first case. The murder of Park Soojin.”

Your legs froze. “What?! Why?”

You knew Kim Jongin, like you knew everyone else in this town. His family owned one of the biggest apple orchards in Cheongsong but Kim Jongin never manifested that in his behaviour. He was known to be friendly, kind, sensitive. Almost too sensitive some would say.

“That’s it. That’s your nugget. Here.” He handed you a business card bearing the name ‘Dr. Doh Kyungsoo’. “He’s been informally assisting with offender profiling. He’ll talk to you. Seems like he’ll talk to anyone, really. Now get in the car, it’s freezing out here.”

“Dr. Doh, thank you for taking the time to meet with me.”

Dr. Doh Kyungsoo’s home office was a detached unit with a separate entrance, distanced from his main residence. It was exactly the way you’d imagined a psychologist’s office to be - light coloured walls, comfortable chairs, soft pillows, insipid artwork. Neat and clean, fostering a sense of comfort for visitors.

The Doh family had moved into Cheongsong shortly after you’d left for Seoul. Coming from old money in search of some peace and quiet, they invested in agricultural distribution, Cheongyang Pepper farms and assumed one of the more significant estates to live in while their only son, Doh Kyungsoo, was sent abroad to pursue higher education.

“Please, call me Kyungsoo.” He took your hand in his, gave it a good, firm shake and gestured you to take the chair opposite his.

“I think ‘Dr. Doh’ should be fine”, you stated plainly and he acknowledged with a curt nod.

“What brings you here?” Asked Kyungsoo, holding your gaze, hands folded in his lap as he leaned back into his chair with a soft sigh.

Grimacing, you waved your recorder at him, “They say you’re my ticket out of this godforsaken place.”

Minseok had helped you set up the meeting so you thought it proper to waive cumbersome introductions and niceties and Kyungsoo seemed very much in sync with your line of thought.

He smiled, “I’m merely a bystander, Miss Jung, with slightly more informed opinions, maybe.”

“Informed opinions are what I’m here for, Dr. Doh.” You smiled back, “Superintendent Kim Minseok doesn’t seem to like you very much.”

“He’s a man shackled by bureaucracy and I’m a constant reminder of his team’s staggering incompetence, If I were him, I wouldn’t like me very much either.”

“Do you think there’s a link between the two murders?”

He nods. “I’m fairly certain there is.”

“But the police won’t look into it? Why is that?”

“Nobody likes a serial, Miss Jung. Besides, there’s no way the team could cope with the increased workload of linked inquiries. There are over a hundred statements, documents, officers’ reports waiting to be read and actioned. And the case of Park Soojin is a peculiar one.”

“Kim Jongin’s girlfriend? How so?”

“She was the ex-wife of a member of the parliament. This case does absolutely no favours to his image so he needs it solved immediately.”

The word solved was treated to air quotes.

“So, they’ve ruled him out as a suspect?”

“His alibi checks out. They suspect Kim Jongin.”

“Why? Just because Kim Jongin fled immediately after her body was found? How did the police react to that?”

“Because Jongin fled, his brother was asked to provide DNA which turned out to be a familial match to the DNA gathered at the crime scene. But that does not necessarily mean it’s the killer’s DNA. Miss Park was in a relationship with him. There’s no surprise his semen was found in her esophagus.”

“Do you rule him out as a suspect then?”

“I prefer to reserve my comment.”

“Why do you think he fled?”

“Grief drives us to do irrational things, Miss Jung. Maybe he just needed a breather from everything that was going on here. Can’t say for sure.”

“You’re certain the perpetrator is male?”

“Yes, I am. The perpetrator is male and an athletic one at that. Probably in his late twenties or early thirties. While the strangulation marks may be different, the pathologists reports suggest petechial haemorrhage in both cases which means he strangled and released and then strangled again, over and over. He’s either a sadist, or his hand lacks strength. You try it, grab my wrist.”

He extended his arm towards you and you politely declined. So he wrapped his right hand over his left wrist and held firmly for a few moments.

“Forty seconds. It’s amazing how quickly the hand tires!” He exclaimed as if awestruck. It was the maximum emotion the inscrutable Dr. Doh had displayed during the course of this interview.

“Victims of strangulation are known to make a mess of themselves. They defecate and / or urinate..”

“That is correct. The bodies were both found posed and clean. Which means he spent hours after, washing them and cleaning the sheets, even. There could be a religious angle to this. Washing away their sins...maybe his own, considering he probably gets into the bath with them.”

He pushed a cup of long gone cold tea towards you, but you shook your head. As a crime reporter, you thought you’d seen it all but the possibility of this being the work of a serial killer was a first for you. Also the fact that it was happening in the place you grew up in was starting to gnaw at you a little more aggressively than you’d liked.

“I’m not going to lie, Dr. Doh, this gives me pause for concern. Do you think there is a sexual angle to these killings? As far as I know, the victims have shown no signs of any such abuse.”

Kyungsoo sipped on his tea and worried at his lower lip briefly before responding. “I believe he’s the kind to take pictures, momentos from the scene. They sustain him between killings.”

“And the roses? There were..”

“Three next to Park Soojin’s corpse and two next to Seo Jinri’s.”

“Does it indicate -”

“- a countdown? Perhaps.” He studied your face intently and offered you tea again. This time you complied and then proceeded with the interview.

“There was no sign of forced entry in either cases. The police think the perpetrator was known to the victims.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. You see, Miss Jung, the problem is that these cases were treated as self solvers from the get go and that’s where it all went wrong.”

His smile at the end of that sentence was one of finality, somehow indicative that you’d overstayed your welcome. To be able to milk him for all he was worth, you were going to let him loose for the time being.

Clicking your recorder off, you tilted your head to the side, smiled politely, “Well, thank you for your time, Dr. Doh.”

“It’s been a pleasure.”

While he was walking you to the front door, you couldn’t help but ask, “Dr. Doh, if I may, were the victims known to each other? Were they friends? Acquaintances?”

“That’s for the police to investigate. They were both in their late twenties, highly qualified - one was a solicitor the other a botanist, both tan with double eyelids, a little over 5 feet”, He took a step closer to you, instinctively you took an uncomfortable step back but found yourself trapped between him and the front door. His burgundy turtleneck smelt like warm, sweet gingerbread mixed with the contrastive redolence of something woody. He put his hand on the clip that held your hair in a bun, an elusive smile dancing on his lips as he allowed your hair to freely ripple down to your waist. “...and they both had dark, waist length hair”, he whispered into your ear, sending a frisson of fear down your spine.

You looked at him like a deer caught in the headlights as he slowly retracted. Eyes locked with yours and face contorted in a fierce frown, he concluded grimly, “You fit his profile.”

Unable to sleep well that night, you went for an early morning run the next day and took a detour to Minseok’s residence. After discussing your findings with him, he offered you a close protection officer who’d moonlight to provide you security just until they’d made an arrest. Which meant you’d have one uniformed officer standing guard outside your guest house all day. You knew that they wouldn’t have done this for you if your family name wasn’t Jung.

“Kim Jongin’s back in town.” Relief seemed to have smoothened the lines on Minseok’s forehead and there was a boost of confidence in his voice when he broke the news to you.

“Are you planning to take him in?” you asked, sipping on coffee in Minseok’s kitchen while he made you some eggs.

He looked victorious and his brows shot up to his hairline as he explained animatedly, “We have enough evidence to put him on trial. I’ll get the warrant in two days.”

“Hand to your heart, do you think he did it?”

“Yah, I’d never be able to make an arrest like that. If you promise not to quote me, I will say that -”

He peered at you questioningly and you eased him with a reassuring nod, “Go on.”

“This looks like the work of an outsider.”

Later that evening, you found Jongin seated alone at a table in the bar. Beaten, as if overcome with exhaustion he was crouched over a glass of scotch, a silent tear sliding down his cheek. You sat next to him and ordered him another drink.

“I killed her.” He stated simply, eyes trained on the empty glass in front of him. To see a man whose taste buds didn’t even agree with coffee back in the day downing hard liquor effortlessly, broke your heart.

“What?” you enquired, sparing no effort to lay the edge off of your voice.

“That evening, we’d had a huge argument. She- she’d been wanting to move out of here for the longest time and I never agreed. It was as if she knew!” Burying his face in his hands, he broke into full blown sobs. It was a while before he composed himself and spoke again, “Here, you have your story. Following a trivial spat, a small town chaebol kills his girlfriend.”

Shaking your head furiously in disagreement, you held him tightly by his shoulders, “This is your chance, Jongin. Speak your truth. Tell them that you didn’t do it. They’ll need to hear it from you!”

Jongin looked you in the eyes, his own brimming with tears, “I was twelve when my puppy died and I couldn’t seem to get over it. My mother gave me this book which said the only way men can get over grief is by showing indifference, I tried that with Soojin.”

Brows furrowed, you asked, “And?”

“It worked for an hour.” He chuckled darkly, “I loved her and I always will. At this point I just don’t care. I should’ve listened to her. Maybe I even deserve this. I see the way people look at me, I- I feel written off, ostracized. A goddamn parliamentarian wants me in. My truth won’t survive their might.”

Letting out an exasperated sigh, you started to talk him out of potential suicide, “Jongin -”

But he raised his forefinger to silence you. Trembling, he asked, “I just find myself wondering, can you die from a broken heart?”

Kim Jongin had turned himself in.

Acquiescent to the slow wheels of justice, moderately satisfied with the first draft of your article, and concerned about your safety, your boss agreed to call you back to the Seoul office, at least until there were further developments in the case.

During the course of your stay in Cheongsong, you drove past the little street leading up to the Mansion several times but not once did you glance in its direction. Before your flight the next morning, you decided to pay the house a little visit to say a final goodbye. The first snow had laid a fleecy white blanket on the ceramic roof that gleamed from the light of the astral light of the night sky. You were flooded with memories of chasing butterflies in spring, climbing the only mango tree in town which still stood proud in your backyard, the stories of monsters and ghosts your parents would read to you in the blanket forts you’d build together… blissfully unaware that in a not so far future this was all your life would entail - monsters and ghosts.

The great oakwood front door turned on its hinges and a familiar aroma of caramel apple hotteok invited you in. They say every house has a peculiar smell and yours smelt of caramel apple hotteok, even after all this time. Your lips curled upward at the strangeness of your sentiments. The demons you tried so hard to escape all your life seemed like bad dreams and what was left of this place within you was just the good. The pure, unadulterated joy that was once your childhood.

You proceeded to the kitchen to fetch yourself a cup of hot water, and that’s when you heard a knock on the front door. You ignored it at first thinking it was just the wind but the knock came again. Louder, this time. You left the kitchen to answer the door.

“Dr. Doh!” you exclaimed, utterly surprised to see him here at this hour.

“Miss Jung”, he smiled sheepishly, “I went by the guest house but the guard said you were at the Mansion. I just wanted to say goodbye, I’m leaving for Gyeonggi in the a.m.”

“Oh, yes, of course. Uh - I’m sorry, please, come in.”

He followed you to the kitchen and said apologetically, “I hope I’m not imposing.”

“No, not at all! Never quite realised just how massive this house actually is - It was starting to eat me up. Gyeonggi, you say?”

“Oh, it’s a cursed life as an independent consultant, Miss Jung. I’m mostly living out of a suitcase..”

“I wish I could say differently. So your presence here was requested by Minseok’s team?” You asked as he took a seat at the kitchen table.

“No, I arrived just about a month before the first murder. My parents passed in a car crash three years ago. So I decided to sell the estate and the pepper farms.” He explained, taking a seat at the kitchen table.

“Would you like some tea? I brought some tea bags with me. I don’t know which tea it is, though.” You offered, mindlessly pouring hot water into two cups.

“Sure” , he nodded.

“So did you?”

“What?”

“Manage to sell everything? And I’m sorry - uh about your parents.”

You didn’t feel sorry. What you felt was an inexplicable weight in your chest rendering you breathless. Your heart started pounding erratically and your mind clouded over with a sense of impending doom as you went about the mundane task of making tea.

“You seem a little out of it, Miss Jung. Is something bothering you?” He got off his chair and guided you to yours as your legs threatened to give away.

You sipped on some warm tea to steady yourself and said to Kyungsoo, “Oh, no it’s … It’s just this house. Maybe you were right, Dr. Doh. This isn’t a good time. I’m sorry but I might have to ask you to leave.”

Kyungsoo didn’t react. At all. He stood still, eyes fixed on your trembling frame.

“Park Soojin wasn’t his first kill”, he whispered.

“What?” you asked feebly, still trying to get a hold of yourself.

Kyungsoo sauntered over to the kitchen counter and brought you a glass of water. “Pay attention, Miss Jung. Park Soojin wasn’t his first kill. He was sloppy with the first one and it was only by a stroke of luck that he managed to get away. So he planned better with Soojin. Got even better with Jinri.”

Startled, you looked him in the eyes and he gave you a smile that raised goosebumps on your skin.

Unperturbed Kyungsoo continued, pacing leisurely in the kitchen, a spine-chilling hint of exhilaration in his voice. “His criminal sophistication indicates that he understands criminology and knows police work. Unfortunately, Miss Jung,”, his voice dropped and you suddenly felt shackled to your seat. Squirming, but unable to make any big movement like reaching out for something that was heavy or sharp or both, “The tragedy is that he’s always believed he’s inferior to these women. But -”

Kyungsoo levelled his face with yours and grinned with a glimmer of victory in his eyes, “for every tragedy, there is a happy ending.”

It took all you could muster to hold it together and dash for your purse to retrieve your cell phone. But you didn’t find it in there.

“Is this what you’re looking for?” asked Kyungsoo, teasing as he pulled your phone from the inside pocket of his overcoat and handed it to you.

You tried to turn it on to no avail. Voice as steady as could be, you said to him, “Please, please just leave!”

He took two easy steps towards you and you found yourself encased between his body and the wall. “Well then you shouldn’t have let me in! Tell me something, how could the close protection officer have given me your whereabouts if you dismissed him immediately after Jongin’s arrest? Haven’t you learnt since you were a little girl - always keep your guard up. Think before you speak. Did you think you were invincible?”

He took your hand in his and guided you back to the kitchen table. Eyes brimming tears, body trembling, and mind overcome with dread you followed him as if he were the pied piper. The familiar scent of gingerbread wafted up your nostrils making you nauseous.

As soon as you took a seat at the table, he put on his gloves, and lay a bottle of red nail polish and a red rose before you.

“Just think about how you can be with them again, Miss Jung. And don’t worry...I’ll be gentle.”

***

A/N: YES! you’re absolutely right! i just wanted to write turtleneck murderer Soo -_-

#exosnet #exowritersnet #kyungsoo angst #kyungsoo smut #kyungsoo fluff #kyungsoo fanfic #exo fanfic #exo smut #exo angst #exo imagines #kyungsoo imagines #exo fanfiction #kyungsoo fanfiction

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project-ohagi · 3 years

Text

Keigo Takami ღ Hawks {Omegaverse AU}

Buy me a coffee!! <3

Fantastical visions of the future were few and far between - the hectic nature of professional heroism always managed to choke the life out of other, more selfish pursuits. Romance is considered within this category, for it seems to benefit none but those whose involvement is direct. Finding a mate under such conditions becomes an endeavour worthy of Hercules himself. The pain and fatigue were discouraging, and no-one kindled his interest - not even remotely.

Yet, instincts and unbearable yearning dictated his Omega's flight pattern. Although his heat wasn't in-bound, his heart refused to beat alone. To the contrary, its canary-song extended both encouragement and guidance to the love-lost and wandering Keigo: "In aeternum, find your forever."

Forever, huh? Who'd be willing to spend the rest of their life with me? Bet I seem a tad too cocky for an Omega, being the Number Two and all that. What does 'forever' even mean? I could do forever, without a doubt, but...who'd do it with me?

Naivety glimmered behind his eyes, as he contemplated 'forever'. What were his requirements for an Alpha? How could an equipoise be bridged between work and domestic life? Which mask would he choose if...if 'forever' remained elusive? Keigo's prior method of coping was simple, but effective: KFC and cry. While ultimately refreshing, in the moment, death always seemed sweeter. It never advanced into a viable option, but a dramatic flair was par for the course.

"-and that's the courting process of a Red-Tailed Hawk!"

Keigo's over-investment in daydreams and quandaries had apparently immunised him from any outside force, until that very moment. Sparing a glance toward the ground, he recognised the familiar figures of humans and...hawks?? Wait...there were falcons, too.

So many birds of prey...and they're all so well behaved. That woman...is she a Falconer? The Omega nestled within Keigo's soul soared at the mere thought. ...Is she an Alpha?

Little cooperation could be plucked from his mind, which knew wisdom from folly. However, despite its best adjudication, Keigo and his Omega (at this point, almost assumed to be two separate entities) decided against rhyme or reason. After all, if a bird squawks at you for submission, squawk louder to assert dominance. That tactic was flawless. Keigo puffed out his wings, swooping ever-lower, praying for even an ounce of attention. He received far more. At the instant of his descent from the heavens, the birds alerted you. Every syllable rolling from your tongue became jumbled, a crimson hue paining the canvas of your cheeks. This man...celestial, god-born...he was no stranger to your heart.

"Is that Hawks??" One of your students yelled, excitably. "What's he doing here?? We're nowhere near Fukuoka!"

"He does have wings, idiot." The venom-laced retort went unchecked - you were busy ogling those symbols of beauty and strength.

Subtlety wasn't an art you had perfected, but where was the consequence? Keigo certainly relished the experience, finding comfort in every sweep of your eyes, every compliment and feather-light touch. Had you asked permission? No. Did he care? Did he fuck. The opportunity for a congenial introduction had passed, and if honesty took the reins, How in the Fresh Prince of Hell do I approach this? KFC won't solve every dilemma. Think, Keigo! What would the Colonel do? How would he weasel his Kentucky fried ass out of this? Not like...I need her to like me, obviously, but I need to say something! She could be my forever...

Unfortunately, your avian protectors (whom Keigo had ignored and then forgot existed) deliberated among themselves for all of two seconds, settling on a guilty verdict and sentencing him to death. His crime? Fuck knows, who cares? Their shrill cries and fiercely-beating wings sliced through the mirage of tranquillity.

You sighed. "Hestia, Rhea, inside voices please. Juno, Asmodeus, you aren't menacing, so stop pretending to be. Why don't you greet him, rather than saying all that nasty stuff, hmm?"

"You can understand them?" Incredulity punctuated his words - how fortune must finally be favouring him.

The birds were indignant, but eventually resigned. Just one of hopefully many triumphs for Keigo.

"Yes, that's my quirk. It's confined to birds though, so not particularly useful." You smiled, failing to notice your students silently slipping away. "Oh, and eh...sorry. I didn't ask before touching you. Your wings are just gorgeous."

"Haha, nothing wrong with that. You've got good instincts." He mused, feeling his cleverly-constructed character melt away, bit by bit.

Strident melodies and the giggling of tiny cherubs played games with his ears. "About that...are you an Omega, by any chance? The news always says you're a Beta, but you don't have that scent."

"I am." He was too eager and willing to provide such information.

"You're an Alpha?"

Do you wanna get married? No...I can't ask that. That's beyond stupid.

You nodded. "Yeah, both my parents are Alphas, so it was practically a guarantee. Don't mind the birds," You added, after noting a sudden stare-down between Keigo and Asmodeus. "they're...flighty."

"That one hates me, for sure." He huffed.

"He hates everyone, especially the people who get my attention. And...most male birds. He doesn't get to decide how I spend my time though, despite his best efforts." The gentle caress you afforded Asmodeus sent envious, yet calming whispers to his heart.

She'd be good with kids. Can I...can I make this work? Am I allowed to...? She's looking at me the same way I'm looking at her...

Was he a hostage, or a voluntary captive? What did it even matter? If this happiness, so pure and unbridled, was a vice, then hurry and cast him to the depths of Hell.

In aeternum...I think I've found forever.

[Word Count: 946]

#keigo takami x reader #hawks x reader #bnha #bnha hawks #bnha keigo takami #omegaverse #omega hawks #mha #mha hawks #my hero academia hawks #my hero academia imagines #fluff #pining hawks

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ackermanshoe · 3 years

Note

I don’t think Isayama or the merch count when it come to shipping; neither I think they expect us to like it dislike, but to buy or not. The end of the manga doesn’t dictate how much we love rivamika. I think we are too focused on canon and not on what shipping actually is, and just enjoy their relationship. Maybe i joined the ship recently but I don’t care about canon when I ship Mikasa and Levi’s relationship, and the many many scenarios and au I can explore

Hello anon and welcome to the fandom since you joined recently!

You've made some points however I think marketing products as a lot to do with the audience's likes and dislikes, after all, why would you waste your money on something that your audience wouldn't buy? I hate to think of it like that but isayama ( but more so his team and the companies) care about money alot more than we think they do. Ofc I wouldn't care about what they market if it weren't for rivamika they specifically market as the only "duo" which in shippers term is "couple". I can't help but see everything from a shippers perspective when it comes to them and that's okay.

I agree canon shouldn't matter anymore after the ending but in my opinion, it can't always be helped. Canon is the reason I started shipping them in the first place, it made me hope and gave me things to analyse, the ending broke alot of us ( if not all ) so obviously, it's natural for canon to have impacted the shippers. I'm all for shipping for the sake of shipping, the fanon, fanfics & fanarts and etc. And that's totally valid knowing how aot ended, but talking about how rivamika deserved better and deserved more depth in the actual story is just how people feel and it doesn't mean we are not fond of their relationship anymore.

You're right it shouldn't dictate how much you love rivamika but many ppl left the fandom and or are less invested in it because of the ending and the let down. That's totally fine too, I didn't expect anything else, even now I feel myself floating away from Tumblr every other day but what keeps is the fact that I'll be able to draw them in a way I would like them to be in canon. What's keeping me is other ppls arts and their portrayal of the ship.

At the end of the day everyone's opinions are valid so let others focus on what they like, it's their coping mechanism, we all have the same feelings for rm after all 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨 but you can't force someone to keep on shipping them forever 💜

#rivamika #ask ackermanshoe #levi x mikasa

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ex-silent-reader · 3 years

Text

Happy Holidays fic recs

Happy Holidays everybody! I haven’t been commenting on posts individually like i normally like to so it’s kind of backed up a bit. I still really want to thank all the authors who have been sharing their stories with us and leave a lil itty bitty comment before I can expand on them for their own post so here’s that! Also I’ve seen a lot of undeserved negativity being spread to a lot of authors and I just want to thank you all for sharing your work on this platform FOR FREE and remind you that you literally owe us nothing and I’m super grateful that you continue to share with us. These are just some stories that I’ve read this week, i’d def like to do another of these soon :)

Disclaimer: I DO NOT own any of these stories, each story is owned by the author tagged next to the title and the summary is pulled verbatim from their page, in quotation marks. The only thing I own is gratitude towards these authors for sharing their work with us.

Also all stories are rated M

Also, a loooot of stories have come out lately and I haven’t had a chance to get to a lot of them yet but i hope to soon so I’ll hopefully make another one of these soon, but yea pls know that I’m not purposefully ignoring or excluding anything or anyone.

Jin;

last christmas | ksj x reader - @xjoonchildx

“ summary: it was bound to happen, eventually. after months of near misses at barbecues and birthdays, there’s no avoiding your ex-husband at hoseok’s annual christmas bash. but it’s fine, totally fine, because you’re both adults – and you’ve both brought dates and booze. what could go wrong? “

This story was amazing! First of all, I love the comedy surrounding the entire situation, Hobi with his 8 trees and instigator Yoongi who also wants them to get their shit together for Hobi’s sake. I love all au’s but sometimes exes to lovers is difficult for me to side with because I don’t see how people can bounce back from so much hurt but in this story it felt very natural how they were able to find their way back together and I really enjoyed the insight to their relationship, especially near the end.

Yoongi;

CREAM & SUGA - @snackhobi

“summary: yoongi is your favourite regular. he’s patient, polite, and predictable, a-large-black-coffee-to-go-please, no cream, no sugar, thank you. rinse and repeat. the seasons might change, but yoongi’s order stays the same.

and then one fateful day in winter, yoongi asks about the weekly specials, orders a cup of christmas and sugary sweetness, and everything starts changing.”

Ya’ll. Yoongi fics just truly hit different. The plot of this was so adorable and him going out of his way like that to keep her engaged was so cute and just very Yoongi like. I also just really loved the descriptions in this, like how oc described making the drinks, it just made everything seem so real.

universe | myg drabble - @personasintro

“❥𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔; you’re his whole universe, you just don’t know it yet – or him”

ASDFGHJKL! Like, I really have no words for the way this made me feel. Like, ik it’s not a super healthy dynamic but the thought of a fixated Yoongi is.. I loved reading Yoongi being so fixated with oc and doing everything i his capability to meet her. I also was v interested in the part where he bumped into her and she didn’t react the way he expected because it made me think about how he (or any character’s with his mindset) cope when the fantast and reality don’t match.

Hobi;

A Holly, Jolly Crisis (M) - @kpopfanfictrash

* Blog doesn’t allow copy/paste and I wanted to respect that*

This story made me feel so many things. Like there’s so many layers to it and both of their hurt, her visiting him and feeling betrayed while he felt pushed aside. This story was so complex and both characters had so many layers to them, but it’s still sooo well written and I was invested the entire time. Like, I genuinely can’t get my feelings out in a brief way so I’m looking forward to screaming about this in it’s own post.

Joonie;

my only wish - knj | m - @ppersonna

“✹ summary- There are few things you hate most in this world. Hornets, unnecessary fruit pieces in otherwise perfectly good jello, certain shades of orange… But nothing takes the cake more than two simple things. Christmas. And Kim Namjoon. So why did you agree to pretend to be Kim Namjoon’s girlfriend at his family Christmas party? Bah-Humbug. “

UM! Absolutely adored this story, of course it would be a fellow cream suit enthusiast who can bring so much justice to dreamy Joon. I loved how he was portrayed here and getting insight to both his and oc’s feelings made me root for them soooo hard.

new parent syndrome - @1kook

“ SUMMARY You love Namjoon, honest. But you love your daughter Hyejoo even more— it’s not a controversial sentiment when you know he’s the same way! —and going back to a regular adult life sans kids absolutely sucks. (Or so you thought.)”

The tag “dreamy husband joon” is extremelyyyy accurate. This story was just so cute and their relationship truly felt so intimate and lovely. Her being on the phone with Jimin while Joon was smash SENT me but it was also so hot like ASDFGHJKL that man can do no wrong tbh.

laundry day - @snackhobi

“summary: You’ve been letting your laundry pile up for a little too long. Fortunately, your neighbour Namjoon is there to lend you a hand. “

Pls this was so hot. Like, I’ve made it very clear thus far that I’m a total simp for Joon, the thought of that man going strawberry picking and thinking to grab some for oc genuinely makes me SWOON. He’s an actual heartthrob.

The Sweet in Sweet Potato - @sahmfanficbts

“ Summary: You’ve been roommates for years. Now that you’re catching feelings, it’s time to run away. “

This entire series has had me so invested but this chapter!!! I’m always a sucker for Joon but the way he was so clearly in her feels (for OC) but wanting to respect her need for distance, what a man. And I was so happy to see oc working through her feeling towards Joon.

Last Christmas (M) - @jjungkookislife

* Blog doesn’t allow copy/paste and I wanted to respect that*

Damn, I really love when a misunderstanding is such a big catalyst for a bunch of drama/angst. It just really ups the tension for me because as the reader I know it was a misunderstanding but clearly the character’s don’t, so it just makes me really eager to see how they make amends. I really enjoyed seeing them slowly make amends and grow. Also the buildup to them deciding to give the relationship another go made the ending soooo satisfying.

Jimin;

picking petals｜pjm - @taestybae

“ summary ↣ you asked for a baby, so a baby is what you’re going to get. “

I really have no words for this, like it was so asaifgjhhkc. First of all, I really enjoyed that it was through his pov, i don’t typically read stories like that (I just don’t often come across them) but this still felt so natural that I didn’t even realize until right now, writing this comment. Also, the imagery was so well described and the anticipation built made this story so enjoyable.

Taehyung;

Deepest Indulgence - @scribblemetae

“ Description/Summary: The world is a mess, gangs, violence and rates of poverty are at an all time high since corporations took over everything. You built your Sex house to be a safe place and a sanctuary for those in need, promising to protect anybody who needs it. What happens when an extremely attractive and very rich man walks through the door begging for a job at Deepest Indulgence? The one sex house that wasn’t meant for men like himself. “

I AM SO EAGER FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER TO COME OUT. Like, idk how I can even describe this correctly but this just feel so much like Tae...???? Like idk if that makes sense but just Tae being this v sensual man, but there still being more to him than that, just makes so much sense and even the word “indulgence” is just so sensual and reminiscent of him. Also, the storyline so far is something I’ve personally never seen before and I’m super invested in this world and story already. Very eager to see how their relationship progresses.

let it snow | kth - @suga-kookiemonster

* Blog doesn’t allow copy/paste and I wanted to respect that*

It’s the way I read this last night, it took me exactly an hour (3am to 4 am cause I’m a CLOWN), and I was so invested that I kept putting off sleep to finish it. Man, i’m a simp for this Tae (just like he is for oc lmao). I really enjoyed reading it and the mention of Jisoo earlier in the story had me on the edge of my seat the whole time wondering when things were gonna blow up. Everything was just so sweet and fluffy, and the confession really made me feel so soft for them both cause they both were so in their own heads and feelings they couldn’t see what was in front of them so I really enjoyed the confessions.

Jungkook;

Thank you, baby - @scribblemetae

“ Turns out the boy whos been stalking you for years has decided its about time he shows his face in the form of a picture, and decides its time to talk to you for real, in the form of a phone call. “

I genuinely don’t know how I can simp over this story in a short way but I’ll try my best. The characters are so complex and the storyline is twisted so many ways that make this so interesting to read and easy to become invested in. The way Jk is written, I understand why OC is lost on how to feel for him. Like, his actions are wrong, but actually meeting him and even seeing his though process, it’s hard to make him out to be the villian that his actions have categorized him as. I can’t wait to continue reading and write a full length comment about this!

FEED ME, FIGHT ME. @yeojaa

“ What do you get when you mix a pissed off girlfriend with a neglectful boyfriend? (Aside from trouble, that is.) “

I really enjoyed this, I love how aware of Jk and his boundaries the oc is and how she is cautious to walk the line and not push him too far while also letting him know how his actions make her feel. This just genuinely felt like a glimpse into a very real, very intimate relationship/moment and I loved that. I also just really love how this is written and I think you have a beautiful way with words.

Chapstick - @softyoongiionly

“based on the time Jungkook said he needed someone to scold him so he’d remember to put lip balm on. Or Jungkook’s had a really long day and the only that can make it better, is seeing you. “

Idk if I’ve ever said it before, but I just love how you write relationships. Like, I can feel how comfortable they are with each other and how natural being together is for them. With your stories generally it just never feels forced and I really love that. I also really liked that we got Jk’s pov in the beginning, getting to see how tense he was really made me eager for their interactions and for him to feel comfortable and calm with her. Their interactions just felt so cute and natural and the end, assdjfhi, jk really deserves to be cherished and I loved seeing oc get him to the point of relaxation.

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chansmuffin · 3 years

Text

Golden Bridge | three

When your soulmate rejects you and you feel like your worlds ending, you meet someone who puts your pieces back together.

Genre: angst, fluff, eventual smut - soulmate!au

Pairing: minhoxfem!reader, changbinxfem!reader

Word count: 2k

mlist, one, two, three, four, five

“That was taken off the menu yesterday,” Minho said regretfully when you ordered your normal.

“Shit,” you muttered, “I’ve had that every day for the past two months.”

He nodded, “And for two months I wondered when you’d switch it up, I guess now is the time,” he replied cheerfully.

You groaned, “I don’t know what to get though.”

It was just past midnight and the coffee shop was dead save for one person tucked into a corner on their laptop.

Minho gave you a shrug, “I make a really mean cup of coffee.”

Your eyes narrowed, “Lyn always makes my coffee.”

“Am I not good enough?”

“You are a cello player,” you reminded him, “I have to doubt your taste.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Lyn interrupted, “no nerdy orchestra debate here.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, “Do your best, cello player.”

He squinted his eyes at you, “You’re gonna turn that frown upside down when you taste my coffee.”

You watch him from afar, taking in every detail of Minho as he worked. His perfect sculpted face caught in a look of concentration, his hands carefully but quickly moving around the various machines, and his arms, oh his arms straining and veins protruding while his hands went to work.

There was no doubt that Minho wasn’t attractive and if it wasn’t for his gold eyes, you were sure he’d be easy to crush on. But you knew better. Unlike some people, you wouldn’t fall for someone already taken. You wouldn’t ruin someone’s happiness like that. Not the way whoever she who took Changbin away did.

Minho caught your gaze a couple of times, giving you smiles in encouragement as he continued to work.

Finally putting a lid on the coffee with perfect slender fingers, he slid it over to you, calling your name in a way that caused you to shiver.

“See if it’s good enough for the high and mighty violinist.”

He went to cleaning the counters while he watched you blow threw the lid, trying to cool the hot liquid before taking a sip. As soon as the liquid touched your tongue, you gasped in shock and because fuck, it burned your tongue but fuck, it was delicious. You weren’t sure you had a cup of coffee so good in your life. Your eyes caught Minho as you noticed what seemed to be tattoos peeking out from underneath his quarter length sleeves. Oh my god he really was perfect, huh?

He had tattoos adorning his arms, just like Changbin. You shivered.

“That good?” He asked, eyes heavy with amusement.

Nodding, you gave him a wave, “Looks like you were right.”

Maybe you could be friends after all.

🎻

“Okay, you won’t believe this,” Minho said storming through the shop, “but I found the perfect sad song.”

Pursing your lips, you watched as he smacked the piece of paper down on the counter in front of you.

“Read it and weep,” he said tossing his head back and forth.

With a raised brow, you hummed the notes to yourself and while it wasn’t the saddest piece of music you’d played, it was pretty damn sad. You had to hand it to Minho because in a sea of happy and vibrant pieces of music, it could be difficult to find something depressing. Not many musicians chose to play as such. But you had because now your mom had been gone for five months and Changbin gone for two and things were just that; sad.

Had you gotten over Changbin?

No.

How could you?

He was your best friend before all else and losing a friend was hard enough. You wondered what he was doing, if he was happy and if she was making him feel loved. Selfishly, you wanted him to be miserable but for the sake of the person you loved, you hoped things were going well. You didn’t want him giving you up to be in vain even if you were miserable.

You’d almost give anything to see your eyes gold again even if you swore you’d gouge your eyes out. You just missed the bright shade when you looked in the mirror. You missed the way your eyes danced with happiness. It had been so long since you saw yourself happy without bag accentuated eyes.

What was happiness like?

The only joy you felt was seeing Minho and Lyn when you got your coffee and Gale when you went to your shift at the bookstore. Could that even be considered happiness though? You couldn’t even be happy when you spoke to your father because he was more broken than you were. You may have lost your mom and your best friend that was your soulmate but your dad lost the love of his life, his soulmate and his best friend all in one fail swope. And not only that but he lost her for good whereas you were sure the day would come when you would see Seo Changbin again and you couldn’t decide if that was a good thing.

Some part of you wanted to see him and hoped he’d see everything he missed out on but the other part, couldn’t stand to see him again. He walked out on you. He could have held on because he knew you were loyal. You never tried to lure him towards you as he dated other people, you merely kept your distance and provided him with companionship that any friend would. You knew that trying to seduce him was crossing a line and you respected him. You respected the choices he made and put him being your best friend before being your soulmate.

If only he’d been as loyal to you as you were to him.

You wondered what your mother would have done to comfort you after Changbin left. You wondered what she would think about him falling in love with someone other than you. What advice would she give you?

Surely, you could confide in your dad but at the end of the day, he couldn’t be your mom. Mom’s comfort was always different than your dads. Besides, how could you lay your pathetic heart break on him when he was going through something so much bigger?

The closest thing you had to a friend was your damn baristas and your boss and neither of which you could confide in.

Which led you to Oliver, your dutiful violin that you’d had since Changbin gifted it to you in your sixteenth birthday. Something he’d saved up for, for more than a year. It was hard to play it knowing that he gave it to you but Oliver was all you had and you were yet to give him up. It’s not like you could afford a new violin anyway.

Everything else had been taken from you. Where else could you expend your energy in a healthy way?

So you continued to play him, even if it caused you more heartache than you could handle because he was all you had.

🎻

“Have you ever thought,” Minho mused, “of I don’t know, buying a coffee pot?”

You looked him dead in his liquid gold eyes, “Are you telling me you don’t want my business?”

He put his hands up in defense, “No, that’s not it. You just spend so much on coffee and sometimes you’re here twice a day. It may be a worthwhile investment.”

You raised a brow at him, “You gonna come make my coffee every time?”

He just smiled.

You sighed, “Okay, okay,” you mumbled and then dropped your voice an octave to make it quieter, “I don’t know how to make coffee.”

“What?”

“I don’t know how to make coffee,” you spat. “I have a coffee machine but I just can’t do it right. My mom always made it for me.”

He put a hand on the counter and leaned towards you, “I know you’re probably on your own and wanting to be independent but you should ask her to teach you.”

“Ah,” you turned away, “She died a couple months ago.”

Minho put a hand up to his mouth, “Shit, I’m sorry,” it was the first time he cursed in front of you and you found yourself slightly shocked hearing the word slip past his perfect lips.

You shrugged, trying not to get teary eyed about all the things you missed getting from your mom before she died, “‘Sokay,” you responded. “That’s why I spend my hard earned money here. I need coffee to play and I have to play.”

He didn’t press any further, “I understand. I haven’t left my cello alone in months. I’ve wailed on Red so much these past few weeks that he’s covered in rosin.”

“Red?” You asked, happy for the subject change. “Is your cello cherry wood?”

“My little sister named him, okay? What’s your violins name?”

You licked your lips, “Oliver. My er, ex named him,” you said honestly. Ex may not have been the right word but how else could you call Changbin? Were you supposed to say “my soulmate best friend who also rejected me”?

His gold eyes seemed to probe you for more but you just smiled and asked him to make you a usual before the conversation could get any deeper.

“Will I see you tomorrow?” And as you grabbed the cup, your hand grazed his. Instantly you jolted away, feeling sparks ignite in your skin. Minho seemed to do the same.

You carefully nodded before slowly reaching for your coffee again, hoping whatever happened wouldn’t happen again.

That night, you stupidly tried to make yourself coffee and in the end when it came out overly strong and with a bite to it, you sat on the floor of your apartment crying. No matter how many times you’d tried to get it right, you could never make it like she did. The coffee addict who had raised a coffee addict mini-me, knew her way around a coffee pot. You hadn’t been so lucky. Even your dad didn’t make coffee the way she did. Whether in a coffee pot or French press, it always came out divine.

You made a mental note to look for a cheap French press when you could. Maybe that’d be easier?

If all else failed, you’d just continue to buy coffee upwards of three times a day if you had to. Thankfully the coffee Minho made was cheaper than the seasonal drinks you always got.

Times like this, alone and with tear stained cheeks, you really missed your mom.

But as she taught you, you took all your negative energy out on Oliver. She had been a violinist too and always wanted you to develop healthy coping mechanisms. When you cried, she’d force you to play. When you were angry, she’d force you to play.

Her forcing you to play may have been frustrating at first and making you cry or making you angrier but after several times, you got her point and you were sure to redirect every emotion you had.

So once again, there you were, crying and playing Oliver at two o’clock in the morning.

It was just past three when you made a visit to Minho, with still freshly wet cheeks and bloodshot eyes. For a moment, you thought it was good to see him but then that emotion passed as you realized, Minho didn’t care for you. He wasn’t a friend. You shouldn’t be happy to see him. His golden eyes reminded you that you needed to stay away.

Not only romantically but in any sense, you couldn’t stand to be around any more happy soulmates.

“Hey, I just saw you - woah. Hey are you okay?”

You avoided eye contact, “Totally good. Can you get me one of your specials, Minho?”

“Sure, sure,” he replied quickly, busying himself with making your coffee. You felt his eyes on you the whole time but you avoided his gaze. Last thing you needed to explain was how you’d been crying over not only your late mother but your ex best friend soulmate who rejected you.

Not that you’d explain it to him anyway.

“Y/N,” he called from where he was standing by a machine.

You dragged yourself over towards him, meeting his gaze just for a moment before looking away.

“Did you maybe want to have a jam session or something sometime?”

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seungsilog · 3 years

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Dear Someone, I’ll Be Better Off Without You.

Pairing: Female!OC x Lee Minho

Genre: Angst, College!AU

Word Count: 1.16k words

Warnings: mentions of someone in a slump(?), insecurities, breakup

Series Masterlist

Taglist: @puffyjisung (send me an ask or dm me if you want to be added!)

Good morning, afternoon, evening, whatever time you’re listening to this! Welcome to the podcast, where I, Han Jisung, your host — speaking of, should I find a DJ name for myself too? Like, that one podcast has DJ Joohoney right? I should think of something for myself.

Anyways, continuing on! This episode, a letter has been written by our Music Director, Ina! I won't make this too long, as this episode might get too long. I asked for a letter, not a novel. If only you guys can see this, holy crap. It's like 3 pages back to back, oh my gosh. I would read this all on air but it would take ages, so we just shortened the letter and might just publish this letter on our website! I doubt you would be able to read Ina's chicken scrawl, though— ok geez, I'll start! Stop looking at me like that!

Dear Someone,

I'm better off I’ll be better off without you.

Do you remember when we first met? It was freshman year, during the university's festival. You weren't as confident back then, sticking to your group of friends most of the time. The only time you left their side was when they convinced you to talk to me after they saw you sneaking a peek at me. Looking back now, I cringe thinking about our origin story, but freshman Ina thought it was cute. So cute, in fact, that I let you take me out on a date the day after. And even though you spilt soda on me five minutes into the date, the giant stuffed cat and the shy peck on the cheek made it all better.

Fast forward two years, and you managed to weasel your way into my life. You became my best friend, my lover, my anchor all in one. College life was hard, but the assurance that you would be sitting in our spot in the coffee shop on campus, waiting with my favorite drink fueled me to get through my day.

But as many positives there were with you, the negatives were also there.

I became too comfortable. I stood only within the confines of my little bubble consisting of schoolwork and my relationship with you. Everything was just the same, repeating day after day, and it took a toll on me. I made my whole life revolve around you, and somewhere along the line, I forgot that there is more to life besides those two things.

I never really improved from who I was when I entered college, but you certainly have. No longer were you the timid, puffy-faced boy I met back then. You’ve come so far, becoming one of the most confident, talented people this school has ever produced, and I can’t help but feel proud every time I realize that.

Sadly, I can’t say the same for myself.

I love you. I love you so much, Lee Minho. Thank you for always being there, for the past two years. I’ll always be proud of you, but I need to take some time to improve myself so that hopefully, i can be someone you can be proud of too. This self-improvement journey of mine might take some time, but as my mother used to say, if we are truly meant to be together, destiny will find its way to bring us together once again. See you around, I guess.

Forever grateful,

Ina.

P.S. I think I used the wrong phrase on my keyword, so I erased it aha. I started this letter in spite... so yeah. I’m not sure if I really will be better off without you, but I guess only time will tell.

Han Jisung’s voice floated through the earbuds and into Lee Minho’s ears as he sat in an armchair, eyes filled with unshed tears. He hadn't known she felt that way towards herself, and if only he had communicated with her better-

He cuts off his inner monologue after seeing a familiar face approach his table.

“I take it you’ve listened to Jisung’s new podcast episode, hyung?” Hwang Hyunjin, with his freshly dyed black hair, takes a seat in front of Minho, ignoring the older’s protests and settling down with his croissant and iced americano. “Come on, hyung. You can talk to me about this. We’ve known each other for ages!”

“And by ages, you mean half a year?”

“Tomato tomato. It feels way longer. I think being coped up in a studio with each other has that effect.”

“... Touche.”

“ So? How do you feel?” the younger boy inquires, taking a sip from his americano.

Minho took a while to respond, thinking of words to properly describe how he felt at that moment.

“If I’m being honest? I don’t have a clue either. It’ll take a lot for me to get over Ina.” After taking a sip of his own drink, he continued. “Two years, almost three isn’t a short time. It was through her that I became who I am today. It was because of her, that I strived to become a better person. It was because of her that I was able to grow, but..” A soft sigh escaped his lips.

“But at the cost of my growth came her dullness.” Hyunjin made a noise of confusion, muffled by the bread stuffed in his mouth. “Woft dwoh yu mean, hyunf?”

“The thing that really drew me to her that day was just how… vibrant she was. Well, she was standing below a streetlight, but really. It sounds cliche, but if only you could’ve seen her. Wearing a bright yellow shirt, talking excitedly about how fun this experience was going to be. She was truly the light of the party back then, well, college happened. We’re all busy, but they were especially. Even Channie disappears for days at a time coped up in his room to finish a project. He only got a significant other this year! Ina barely had any time to do anything else aside from meeting me and doing schoolwork. I guess she realized that, and uh, yeah. That brings us here.” Minho looked up at Hyunjin, only to see him invested in something on his phone.

“ Yah, why did I even bother telling you.”

You see, dear listeners. Sometimes, relationships don’t turn out the way we want it to go. We think entering a new thing will all be sunshine and rainbows, and it might lead to an ultimatum; having to choose between self-gratification and self-improvement. In Ina’s case, she chose to leave not because she lost feelings, because that’s definitely not the case- ouch! When will you stop throwing things at me? But yes, she chose to leave because she wanted to grow, wanted to get herself out there for a bit, just as hyung had done. That does not mean that all hope is lost for them, though. Maybe someday, when the both of them are ready, their romance will continue again.

-`, leri’s litol notes

here is the second installment! ;-; i hope you guys like it hehe

#districtninewriters #stray kids imagines #lee know #lee know imagines #lee know angst #stray kids angst #stray kids ff #skz imagines #skz fics #dear someone universe

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ephemerlskies · 4 years

Text

in the stars tonight | pjm

⇢ pairing: jimin x reader

[other members - seokjin, taehyung, namjoon]

⇢ genre: series, ANGST, enemies to lovers au, actor!jimin, actor!oc, (eventual) fluff if you squint

⇢ word count: 8.4

⇢ genre: Landing a role that might launch your entire career as an actor had come with the most unpredictable and daunting circumstances: grappling with the tragic loss of your boyfriend, Namjoon, and co-starring in a film with the vexing yet enchanting (and famous), Park Jimin.

⇢ warnings: explicit language, themes of grief/loss, themes of depression, (many) mentions of death, mentions of driving under the influence (please stay safe!!), themes of alcoholism, themes of escapism, mentions of alcohol, mentions of marijuana, unhealthy coping mechanisms, lots of internal dialogue with one deceased boyfriend, arguing/bickering, seokjin being seokjin, eventual love triangle (ish) feud

♪ playlist: dynamite - bts, move! - niki, saint nobody - jessie reyez, through the night - iu, ilomilo - billie eilish, the truth untold - bts, slow dancing in the dark - joji ♪

╰ series index: 01 | 02 (coming soon)

a/n: i, and i cannot emphasize this enough, can't believe this came out of me.... it was just a lil idea in my head, but then it expanded into this entire story that was way too long to fit into a one shot. so, here's me serving up a hot plate of enemies to lovers with a generous side of angst and longing!!! i hope y'all enjoy (and hate) arrogant jimin as much as i did hehe <3 ps i have no idea how long i want this series to be i'm lowkey winging it

The world does not slow down for anything. Not for catastrophes or miracles or even something as devastatingly common as death.

When your boyfriend of three years, Namjoon, lost his life due to another's drunken mistake, you realized this. The world revolves on a scheduled orbit, and not even your tragedy wedged a wrench big enough to halt life just a moment. Just to let you breathe and grieve without feeling left behind. However, you were left behind, both by the world and him.

Every sun and moon, every skipped meal, every unfulfilled rain-check, every isolated Saturday night, and every cancelled audition that came as quickly as they left paid tribute to this merciless phenomenon. It seemed you now existed just to watch the days pass, just to balefully relive the moments before Namjoon's passing. And that seemed to have been the only way you could have survived. To make a recluse of yourself because if the world was careless enough to let someone as amazing as him go, then what held it back from spilling even more wreckage into your life? For the past six months, you stuck to the cold, dead past. It was all you had to hold onto; letting go meant plummeting into a depth far too unknown and inescapable.

You and Namjoon were steadfast. You were still steadfast, or more appropriately, stuck now that you had no one to be loyal to anymore.

You and him were one of those couples other people saw and wished they could replicate into their own lives, but when it came down to it, rooted for your happy ending with him. The type similar to that of highschool sweethearts who beat the odds, or the type whose encounter fell along the silver lines of fate. Something beautiful that automatically made all the love poems authenticated by you and him. And when he held you, the idea of worry or evil seemed like concepts that did not exist past fictional tales. So warm, so loving, now gone.

The way in which you and Namjoon grew over the three years you were able to love him was in a convergent manner.

Your branches and vines were woven into his, and his into yours. Even your roots, the elements of your past, began to entangle beneath the soil. To root between each other meant there had been a foundation from which you grew, a stability that was once neat. There was no boundary of which would discern your life from his. And at one, more favorable, point in time, your life did belong to him. Namjoon was someone you only knew for a mere fraction of your life, however the moment he wandered into it, you had unlearned how to continue without him.

You didn't think you would have to relearn.

But then one decision forced you to do so. One person, who decided paying fifteen bucks for an Uber was not a wise enough investment, ripped out the plant of his body from your shared soil by means of inebriated judgment and a missed red light. You had no choice but to absorb the cruel sustenance of the sun completely alone. Most of your branches of life were left barren, with torn twigs where your body once borne fruit and leaves and beauty. But the roots were where most of the pain inhabited. A stubborn, sharp ache resided in your chest, deep enough that you might have had to be cut open and searched through to find the source.

It had been six months of 'Sorry for your loss' and 'Gone too soon' and your personal least favorite 'He's in a better place now'. It made you angry, because was there a place better for him that didn't have you in it? How could anyone know what was better for him when they didn't experience something as tender and gentle and loving as your relationship?

But none of the sympathetic smiles or half-hearted condolences made you quite as angry as the monster who was too selfish to call someone to drive them and consequently punctuating the eternity you were meant to spend with Namjoon. You always followed the virtue that an eye for an eye makes the whole world blind. Forgiveness was a sweeter release than anything else, but if you could, you would take that drunk driver's life in a heartbeat. You would have gauged out your own eyes if the chance fell into your reach.

Though, no matter how hard you screamed at the universe for hurting you, despite the countless pleas to somehow retrospectively tell Namjoon not to go out for something as trivial as toothpaste so he might be alive today, holding your hand in this waiting room, telling you that you're going to do great, you knew the world wouldn't stop for you or your sorrow.

It revolves, waits for no one, and you had to pace yourself to jump back into the turning carousel of life.

"___. We're ready for you!" His voice was ten notches above a volume that wouldn't irritate you. The only hint you let slip that his tone made you want to throw this script at his crotch was the muted sigh.

You knew this audition was going to play out like the rest. They would ask you to read, stop you in the middle of your monologue, then say something like 'Thank you for your time, we'll get back to you soon' which was show business code for 'We are not giving you the role'. The only reason you were here was because you had been out of work for too long, the piles of overdue bills on your kitchen table a cruel reminder of that. Plus, you knew Namjoon would have told you to go.

He would have said something like, 'Get your lazy ass out of bed and go to that audition! You don't want Hollywood to miss out on a star just because you want to sleep in fifteen more minutes'. And it would have worked. It always had. Now, the only motivation that came to your aid was the echo of his voice, and even that had begun its slow descent into forget. Other than that, guidance of your own volition was as fleeting and disarrayed as a violent wind.

"Hi, my name is ___, and I will be auditioning for the lead. Jordan." Your hand must have been fielding its way through a nervous tick. The person you assumed was the director was eyeing the way it had been contorting at your side, and you hated showing that you were nervous.

"Perfect! We've already casted the other lead role. This audition will mostly be based on whether we think you'll have good chemistry with him." Him. So your possible running mate was a man. Before a list of names engraved on rows of stars cemented into the Hollywood walk of fame ran through your head, you lifted the script and collected all the air your lungs would allow.

Maybe, you thought, my courage and passion might come with it.

And when you opened your mouth, something magical that you credited to talent claimed sovereignty over your body. Now, you were Jordan. Jordan didn't have a dead boyfriend, now ex boyfriend, or luggage enough grief to sink a depression into the crust of the Earth. Jordan was a kind, low-energy, and sentimental artist coming into an age of overwhelming success and fortune —and love.

That's what alluded you in acting. For a moment, you could escape your life, leave your pain on the back burner while you emerged into someone who was unacquainted with the pain of losing the love of your life. It was akin to a drug, administering an intoxicating fill of temporary serotonin. Instant relief, and if you got this job you would have your fix of this twisted sort of high that tempered the Namjoon-sized void in your life. And Jordan's life definitely seemed to have, quite literally, all the things yours lacked.

"Wow, ___, was it? That was absolutely incredible!" The hand-covered whisper that followed this appraisal gave you time to begrudgingly peel of the Jordan mask. Within a half second, all the pain seemed to compound into your body. If you hadn't already shaped your entire life around that weight, you would have fallen over. Though you had done this, and even worse, you had been shouldering it for so long, you would have felt naked without such a burden. "Okay, well, we have a few more auditions but I think we have our Jordan! We'll send your manager the full script along with the schedule for the first week of shooting in about two weeks."

"Uh-" If you had not said something quick, the opportunity might have slipped away all too fast, the way Namjoon had. You vowed to grab hold of anything remotely good that arose into your life, giving you more than late nights of choked sobs and transfixed gazes out of half-curtained windows. This offer was clutched tightly in your fist. "Oh... Th- thank you! Thank you! Fuck, thank you so much. This means so much to me, thank you!"

Before you proliferated the meaning of the words thank you and the director's smile turned into rolled eyes, you stumbled your way out of the door. Waiting on the other side was a world that might strike against you with partially docile cruelty. The wind pressed against your skin, almost blowing away all your grief with the help of this successful audition.

That feeling, as always, was as comforting as it was fleeting. Because the scars of your past would not have budged for any brash current. Because your next thought disrupted the scant flourish of joy. It was the thing that came easier and sooner to you than eating and blinking; telling Namjoon any news of both good and bad ranks, sharing your life to celebrate or stress over. One of the many things that remained by an undissolvable adhesive along your mind. You tried to soak it away with liquor or smoke it out with weed, but there was no breaking of habits you loved almost as much as Namjoon.

I did it, Joon. I landed my first role. You thought, because that was the closest you could have gotten to relaying the news.

Your heart began to physically hurt. Heartaches were literal in your case. Literal and grim. You felt the grip of loss pierce its sharp thorns into your flesh. It had nearly been as painful as all the times your words were met to deceased ears, speaking to someone that had not belonged to you anymore. Six months had passed and pain cannot tell time in the way people can. So, you knew the marathon of your grief was one that followed its own metaphorical clock. You just had to keep running in hopes you could make it out alive.

Though, being Jordan for the next six months would help momentarily satiate your grief. If there were a remote for your emotions, this role would be the mute button. Your pain would still move as it usually would, but now it would be silent. You wouldn't have to listen to its unforgiving taunts and crippling obscenities. It was only just that you were paid reparations for six months of utter misery with six more months of narcotic, soundless distractions.

Two Weeks Later

If the universe had given you one good thing, it was skill and dedication to your craft. The script was memorized in just short of four days, and even a sizable amount of lines of the other characters had been stacked atop your memory. Doing an acceptable job at this role wasn't something that was worried you. In fact, the idea of wearing another's life on your body and on your heart was something you looked forward to.

It was a bit difficult to convince yourself how good this natural born gift was when the universe took something that felt a thousand times more crucial to your existence. Acting, or anything else that planted joy in you, was a consolation prize for merely participating in life. Namjoon was the reward you were meant to win in the end.

And you had no idea what the hell to do when the prize becomes in all of the sense of the word unattainable.

You hadn't driven in six months, despite the run-down Honda parked in front of your street, desperate to be given some sort of purpose. It was too much. Ever since the accident, the idea of manning a wheel that could take away more than it could ever offer was a responsibility you felt entirely too daunted to assume. Even though seat hogs, missed busses, and overcrowded walkways had been inconveniences of an indescribable level, it wasn't enough to put your body into the same vehicle that derailed your life.

Luckily, the bus stop was only three blocks away from the studio. It gave you plenty of time to get into character, however it also nestled in a span of time for Namjoon's voice to filter in and out through running your lines.

He talked to you a lot. As much as it made you want to cry, you held onto it, feeling as though it might be the last of his voice you'd be able to recall. If Namjoon's internal commentary were to suddenly disperse, you might forget his voice entirely. And you wouldn't admit this to anyone else, but you would always answer back. Sometimes out loud, and sometimes, when company forced you into sanity, you responded mentally. It kept you separate from life and any form of interaction with actual people, but it felt better than living in a world without him. Additionally, it helped keep his voice alive, which when you thought about it, was such sick irony. His voice, alive, his heart and mine and soul, dead.

And that was the only downside to acting. When there was another mind you had to engage in, Namjoon couldn't have broken the barrier and his voice wouldn't even register as an echo. Perhaps that was why you waited so long to dive back into your job. It felt synonymous with betrayal to do anything that would sever your connection already hanging by a single, fragile thread.

"___? Hello?" You were immune to every condescending gesture or vernacular weaponized in Hollywood by now. Your makeup artist's snaps fell into the base of annoyance you had grown used to. "Did you hear me? You're all ready."

Her voice wasn't too abrasive. If anything, you should be the one apologizing for dazing in and out of consciousness. Though, Namjoon's sweet compliments about how beautiful you looked with your stage makeup should have been the one to acquire this remorse.

"Sorry. I'm, uh, tired. Not used to waking up at six in the morning quite yet."

"Well, get used to it, or you'll have a rough few months ahead of you." Her laugh had shed whatever shell of pretentiousness once veiled her previous impression. "I'm Nayeon, by the way. I've heard many great things about you, ___. Let's hope you live up to the hype."

Nayeon's nudge was friendly, and it comforted you that within the first day you hadn't pissed off the person who could easily turn your face clown-like with a few heavy strokes of her brush. She was beautiful, too. If she hadn't been dressed in a black T-shirt strewn with foundation and powder stains, then you would have mistaken her for an actress.

"Let's hope so... I guess the director was selling me better than myself." Your eyes scanned the area, though no one seemed a fitting candidate to be your lead. "So, who's the other lead?"

"Park Jimin. I'm surprised they didn't tell you yet. I guess it's some obscure, artistic director decision to keep you in the dark. I’m lowkey fangirling right now… But, don't tell anyone that." Before you could respond, let alone react, Nayeon had collected all the products she needed for her next subject and was about a yard away from you. "Good luck, rookie!"

Park Jimin. You've definitely heard of him, but it surprised you that someone like him accepted a role in a romantic, indie, coming of age film that had not the budget to pay half of what he usually made in his repertoire of previous movies. He was certainly what one would consider an 'A-list' celebrity. The type paparazzi actually cared to stalk, and fans recognized in public, but were too shy to approach due to his sheer intimidation. It hadn't eased your nerves that he was notoriously withdrawn when it came to the behind the scenes portion of shooting a movie.

And, like any decent person, you did your very best to refrain from placing judgments without the opportunity for them to fill in their own narrative. Most of what you ‘knew’ of Jimin had been hearsay. However, you had some hunch Jimin wouldn't qualify as one who labored tirelessly for the roles he had landed or authenticated any sort of compassion with his rising fame.

See, acting and snagging a big role in a movie was characterized as a tall building for you. If one reached the top floor, then they would assume a wealth of opportunities and Oscar nominations and acclimation. Of course, this film industrial structure had various modes of climbing to the top. Some had stairs which called for more excretion and effort but still, all you needed were persistent legs, then each step would eventually get you where you wanted to be.

You had more of a ladder. Each wrung was slanted at an angle of which only deepened your brawl with success and had not been sanded down enough to save you from a generous supply of splinters. After a while, your hands began to ache and the fear that some high-society type would kick the base of your ladder always stalked the forefront of your worries. It certainly had not been a choice means of arrival to whatever awaited you on that top floor, however it was the only one available.

And while you had a ladder to overcome, Jimin had an elevator. The most he'd ever expend to reach that coveted floor was a few presses of a button. And perhaps his only sacrifice would be sharing the elevator with one or two others. Things just worked out for people like him. And an elevator’s delivery was always in a manner that was quicker than the likes of a staircase or a ladder.

When he arrived on set, dragging himself like his own body was a weight he shouldn't have to carry himself, you fought that instinct of yours to assume everything you needed to know from him.

Just because he's wearing sunglasses inside doesn't mean he's some arrogant asshole, even if that is the most cliché character trait of one. This internal lecture was certainly of Namjoon's doing, since he was always one to never run out of allotting the benefit of the doubt.

Yeah, I guess. But, come on, he looks like a fucking idiot. You replied as if he were really there before walking up to the callous man with your gauntlet thrown down by default. No need getting on Jimin's bad side, because you were sure it's complement was being blacklisted from the film industry. Instead of sharp edges you offered him a non-threatening smile and handshake.

Play nice. Namjoon reminded you before you had the chance to decide what you wanted to say.

"Hi! It's such an honor to be working with you. I'm ___." Jimin looked at your hand like you had filled it with mud and were intending on smearing his Gucci jacket, which you assumed was worth more than your monthly apartment rent. "Um, wanna touch base before we start shooting or..."

If his admonished glare at your hand wasn't encouragement enough to retract it back into yourself, then what he said, or more fittingly, what he didn't say next was.

The way his sigh infused a scoff within it made you feel small. It felt like fire, how thoroughly it burned you into a pile of ash, but then it felt like a gust of prickled wind that would scatter your remains completely. If it had not been for the way his head shifted from your head to your toe, you wouldn't have known that his shielded eyes were trailing the length of your body. Such a glare seemed like a calculation of your worth; it must have totaled out to that of a fly he had to swat away because the second you stood on the outside of his peripheries you stopped existing in his world altogether.

His back made a longer impression on you than his eyes, and that was your que to huddle yourself in the corner and stick to the two things you were best at.

Imaginary conversations with Namjoon and rerunning through your already memorized lines.

Before you say anything, I already think he's a prick. It might be pathetic to have instigated theoretical conversations with your dead boyfriend, but the world wouldn't know he would have scolded you first for already constructing an agenda to avoid Park Jimin whenever you could. You just felt an itch to lay down the first word.

You never know, maybe he had a bad day.

Yeah, well people like him don't need to be professional unlike the rest of us. I mean, I'm on the verge of openly conversing with you and I'm the one that has to turn the other cheek? Your script was decorated with a number of wrinkles. Proof that your anger was sleeping from your insides in the form of tightly gripped hands that were pretending to pinch Jimin's skin instead of the script. For once, you felt some grain-sized semblance of luck for having a grasp of acting to pull off pretending to love Jimin.

"Hey." You weren't quite thrilled to meet the person you had imagined pushing down a staircase standing over you. Without his glasses, it was difficult to remember why you had been so angry with him and you hated that. His eyes consisted of more than just irises and pupils, though you would not have been able to place what exactly accompanied these features. They were just eyes, after all, parts of a body. Functional. Mechanical facets of being. And yet, his seemed more than that. More than just sense mechanics. Perhaps beauty.

But for him to have been beautiful, it would have tainted the very idea of beauty.

"We're about to start shooting. Don't make this difficult, I'm trying to leave on time."

"Okay... Sure." Those were the two words you substituted for the 'fuck you' itching to crawl from your throat.

"I'm Jimin, but you know that already." The way he spoke was punctuated as though it was a waste of his time to spend any attention on you. If you weren't already drained of your strength from that tube of toothpaste that was some sort of paraphernalia of the night Namjoon became an article of your past, then you would have rolled your eyes or retorted with something that would knock him down a peg.

"I do." Your own weak will bothered you more than Jimin. "Um, I-"

"Let's not." Though he had no idea what you were about to say, a part of you agreed to not even indulge in small talk with him. It would be too forced and uncomfortable and that might leak into your performance on camera. Still, he had an abrasive way of going about it that made you want to disagree with him just to be able to lie contrary to him.

"Fine." It rolled off your tongue easily, like silk. His lingering eyes had you wondering if you somehow impressed him with your passive agreement or insulted him for not groveling for his approval. Either one would have satisfied you.

"Alright! Looks like you two got acquainted. We're jumping right in." The director, Kim Seokjin, was chirpy. Even if this project wasn't necessarily mainstream or highly anticipated, he was the type to salvage all his passion and pour it into anything he created. It comforted you knowing someone other than you found this to be somewhat life changing. "Please, Jimin, ___, on your marks. This is the scene where you two meet, so we're hoping you two can infuse that feeling of being slightly awkward but nevertheless enthralled in each other's presence. Got it?"

"Yessir." You said, and Jimin only produced a nod which seemed generous for him. Fighting the urge to snarl or squeeze your brows together came as a difficulty you had to practice at.

"Slate! Quiet on set..." Seokjin’s voice filled the empty space of the entire studio.

"Scene one, take one." Just as the snap of the slate reverberated through the room, your eyes changed just as abruptly. Your gaze upon the set transformed it into your reality. You looked at Jimin and now saw Laurie, a young soul filled with enough dreams and kindness one could have mistaken him for a cloud; the kind that spoke in loving whispers and gentle caresses. He reminded you a lot of someone else you knew.

You tucked Namjoon's voice away with the rest of your grief and became Jordan.

Amazing things seemed to happen when you least expected them too. You guessed that was the nature of amazing things, for if you expected them then they probably wouldn’t feel so amazing. About halfway through the scene, after a number of cuts, re-shoots, directorial notes, you noticed something. Or more so, this something willed you to notice.

Once you fell into stride with your character, it became easier to pick up on the person acting opposite of you. Maybe you hadn't given Jimin enough credit before. You knew maybe was an understatement, though you felt a sting admitting talent had fallen into his hands just as all his accomplishments had.

Jimin's acting rested on the side most polar to your own. You replicated, he revolutionized. You became your character, shrinking yourself enough so that one wouldn't have been able to tell who you were beyond who you were playing. Jimin, however, made the character his own. There was no minimizing his own body to fit into the mold of the character. Jimin was the mold, and he sculpted the character to fit along himself. He forged his movements, voice, and confidence into whichever role he played and brought life to someone strewn with a signature of his own soul polishing said character. All the while, he was inventive with each intention and emotion that were strung into his lines.

It was difficult to pull this off, being that you could easily begin to just play yourself in a movie and neglect any character mannerisms that you were supposed to portray, however Jimin seems to slip in and out of his role with ease. And with each take, he peppered in more dimensions to a character. He gave meaning and depth to a person constructed onto a paper script until you couldn't believe this person didn't exist in real life.

That was the amazing thing that kept your well-rehearsed lines behind an impermeable wall of reluctant admiration.

What hadn't helped, though seemed to have been timed to a tee to unwind your sensibility, and timing had always worked against you like you had done wrong to it, was the part when Laurie was written to sneak his hand along your waist after Jordan stepped backwards into his body.

His palm felt so warm. So warm that the entire world felt too cold for you to be anywhere but apart from his touch. Then, all your lines spilled from your recollection. He was standing close behind you, the plush of his cheek tickling your ear and sending the entire world away so you and he could reserve this moment just for yourselves.

"Your line." His whisper wouldn't be picked up by the mic, though it had no trouble debilitating the rest of your senses. Did he intend for it to blur any sort of attraction his character felt for you into the life beyond the camera?

The director called cut to the scene, and it felt like a lifetime before you were released from the entrapping heat of Jimin's body. When you spun around, hoping you could at least dig through your throat to pull out a deflated apology, the smirk laced along his lips illustrated every bit of his arrogance and once again shut you up.

From the way his eyebrow was arched, you assumed he must have read your mind. He knew what he did to you, and it reminded you of everything you disliked about Jimin. Presumptuous, prideful in his taunts. It also reminded you that he stood many floors above you in this architectural competition of acting. You were grabbing hold of each wrung as you went, unprepared for something as disarming as Jimin. All he had to do was peer down at the sight of you to make you feel a hundred times lower than him.

“___? What’s wrong?” You looked over to find Seokjin’s half worried, half irritated expression.

“No, nothing. Sorry, I just blanked for a second.” Jimin’s snide chuckle at your confession to a faulty performance didn’t help simmer the burn of embarrassment.

"It’s okay, I get it.” The director offered a smile as a peace offering, and since he looked not seven years older than you, it had you assuming he was the laid-back type. “Let's take five. We'll block a few of the scenes and finish the rest of this and we'll call it a day."

You made your nest over at the snack bar. Shoving half of a donut into your mouth had almost resurged your energy. Nayeon made a swift return to pat your face with more powder.

"Hey, you're pretty damn good." You were stuck with a mouthful of donut to null any chance of responding. "Except for when you kinda just shut down at that last scene."

You would have felt embarrassed, or rather more embarrassed than you currently did, if it weren't for the light laugh that followed. All you had to reply with was a shrug.

"I mean, I don't blame you. Jimin's pretty hot and if I were cozying up to him during a scene I'm sure I would also fuck up my lines." Nayeon finished applying whatever touch ups she felt necessary, not without a suggestive eye arch. This either meant she was going to shuffle over to another actor in need of visual repair or she would stay and talk. Her continued monologue advocating for Jimin's talents and good looks proved the latter was what you had in store. "I mean, damn. Also, I'm pretty sure he's got abs under that shirt. So, are you into him? Is that it?”

"It's not like that." The harsh delivery gave an impression contrary to what you said. "I mean, I just... He's just really good at this. I guess I got kinda intimidated."

Normally, you would have sought Namjoon's voice ringing in your head about how you could do this, reminding you how he believed in you. It would have gotten you through the scene however, Jordan didn't know Joon.

"Well, he won an Oscar for a reason, babe." You finished the rest of your donut and begun a prowl for another savory comfort food. "I mean, damn, twenty-five and already winning Oscars and getting nominations. It ain't for nothing."

"Yes, this is helping so much, thank you." You twisted in sarcasm as if that would make you seem any less intimidated. Again, Nayeon laughed off any shroud of roughness coating your words.

"What, do you want me to lie? Is that how you want to start this friendship, with lies?" Her elbow nudged you, and that alone communicated more than the brief exchanges you two shared. Now, you had a friend. Someone else to talk with that wasn't a figment of your own imagination.

Look at you, already making friends. Your smile was not as hidden as you attempted for it to be. Namjoon's little encouragements had that effect on you.

"What's that smile for?"

"Oh, nothing." You scarfed down the mini muffin, turning towards Nayeon. "Just happy my makeup artist goes easy on the blush."

She winked, and you felt ready to be sent back into the throes of this film. You weren't keen on Jimin feeling closer to a competitor than a partner in this project, however if that is how he wanted it to be, you were never one to submit so easily. You were determined to level this playing field, and your communion with victory felt like a well-deserved birthright.

"Thought I told you I wanted to go home on time, rookie." You watched his lips shape such venomous words, since his eyes, the unnamed, nearly beautiful presence, might have sunk you back into that state of speechlessness.

"I take it you're not a method actor, since Laurie is so sweet and you're a fucking ass." It felt good for all of one second before a series of reprimands fueled by none other than Namjoon now had you on the brink of apologizing.

"Feisty, huh?" Again, his lips eased out sharp words as if they would not nick the plump skin as it went.

You hoped Joon had nothing to say about how you were now tracing the lush of Jimin's lips. And yes, it had been six months, though you knew your love-ridden heart had yet to free its hands from grabbing hold of Namjoon, still, the feeling of attraction, no matter how brisk it might have been, felt like you were committing adultery. Adultery, over someone who was dead. You weren't the one who left him behind, and at the same time, you never got that shiny patent of closure. There was no break-up, so perhaps that was an explanation as to why your heart was foolishly stuck in love, never realizing its oath to loyalty was graced upon the deceased.

You thought of love now, while you were supposed to be getting into character. You thought of the one thing you once had held worn so easily, and now you had been chasing it knowing your legs weren’t enough to catch up.

There was a well in your eyes, supplied by the same source which fossilized a ragged lump in your throat. And you must have blinked twice as many times as you normally would since Jimin's eyebrows met halfway between his forehead as he watched you. Or, more disappointingly, he might have noticed your tendency to grow red in more places than just the whites of your eyes when you were about to cry. Holding those tears in hadn't helped with keeping your skin less flushed.

It frustrated you that he might have noticed, which only twisted you tighter into the verge of crying. You knew it was unlikely that his watchfulness of your pre-breakdown expression was due to a lapse of genuine concern. For all you knew, he was subtracting even more value from your worth, plummeting you into negative integers.

And if you weren't so dedicated to your craft, then you wouldn't have the ardor nor the ability to pull off acting like you loved him.

Nayeon is a good makeup artist, I think you have a thick enough cover of foundation and powder to hide it. That of course, along with any sliver of light in this dark tunnel, had always been attributed to Namjoon. He was the reason you kept going, the reason you had been able to get out of bed to drink a glass of water once in a while, the reason you did not completely break down every time a tube of toothpaste fell into your line of vision. Him and the memorialized voice was what chipped the lump free from your throat and dried your tears before they had the chance to spill.

"What-" Whatever motivated Jimin to ask you something had been gone almost immediately after it sprouted.

"Quiet on set!" There was no way you'd figure out what he was going to say if the director had mandated pre-shooting silence.

The rest of your day went accordingly. Nothing too devastating happened that cleared away the momentum of excitement of this being your first big role. Though, not that you weren't beyond grateful for this chance, you made a chore of reminding yourself to be aware of your good fortune.

And, with the help of a few well-placed improvisations that made you seem somewhat of a visionary in your craft, your previous mistake had been washed with water under the bridge in the director's eyes. It escalated your ego and confidence to watch Jimin scavenge for an unpracticed reaction to go along with the slight details or lines you infused into the scene. At a certain point, you could almost describe him as impressed with your acting. Maybe enough to bump your worth up a few decimals, not that that should be occupying your worries.

"Wow, ___! Look's like we hired the right thespian. Great work! By the looks of it, things will flow easier from here." The director, who you finally felt on a first name basis with, approached with a hug. Though, usually this would have sent red alerts, you could tell Seokjin had no ill intentions of the predatory type. "Also, you two have chemistry, but it's not quite there yet. I want this to be believable. There has to be some real life element of camaraderie if this story is going to be genuine."

"So, what exactly are you asking of us?" Jimin, of course, sounded all but thrilled with whatever Seokjin was suggesting even when it hadn't been specified yet. And though you hadn't expressed it outwardly, this aversion for what Seokjin has been suggesting was shared.

"I don't know, get to know each other? Method acting works usually. I mean, Jared Leto did it for that movie and he seemed pretty crazy." The attention was never yours to claim once Jimin had already pressed his phone to his ear and Seokjin was off reevaluating the shots taken today.

You were alone again. Surrounded by an entire crew and cast, but alone nonetheless. Your version of escapism was never as consistent as you needed it to be. All it took was a moment of stillness for you to drift into some place much darker than your current reality. Jordan was sealed away for now, and you were trapped in your own body. It felt horrible. Being you without the man who loved and cared for such a kindred soul felt no different than writhing in pain. Being you without him was empty. Before long, you might have fallen faint in front of your coworkers.

The only target you could acquire as of now was Jimin, taken away from the world for reasons much less burdensome than your own. Where you had a plight of grief to sift through, Jimin had a phone and most likely a supply of friends to text and busy himself with. Seokjin wanted you to get to know him, try your hand at method acting so to speak, and that was the excuse which allowed you to walk over and try to kindle some sort of conversation.

"Hey, so, uh..." The pause came to no avail, since it seemed as though you could have said nothing at all judging from his reaction. "Hey."

It took a fictitious clearing of your throat and three more seconds of unwavering silence to lure his eyes from his phone.

"What?"

As it had been for this entire day, everything involving Jimin was made to be some sort of challenge. A feat you had to overcome without an ounce of reprieve, just to remain standing.

"Seokjin said we should, like, get to know each other. Or, at least get along. I think that's a good idea." His eyes gave absolutely no clues to anything below the exterior of an expressionless face.

"Why are you trying so hard?" You waited for him to laugh, or even for a laugh of your own to slip and loosen the tension. A laugh to make what he just said a joke, victimless banter, because it would have been wildly insulting if that were the most genuine thing he had said to you all day.

"What the hell does that mean?" Your arms were crossed as if that would keep your heart safe from his cruel tactlessness.

"I'm not taking this shit seriously." He laughed, but it wasn't the one that you wanted previously. It sunk wounds deeper, with such a dull edge too. "It's just a side job so people think I'm humble, or whatever my manager said."

The puzzle began to piece together, it took this admittance from Jimin for the picture to emerge from ambiguity. This movie was some form of damage control for his reputation, and that might be because your accurately placed criticisms of his lackluster humbleness did not stand solitarily. Your big break had been reduced to a convenient plot of image reconstruction. You were familiar with anger, it was one of your trickier stages of grief to surmount, but it still affected you to the same degree as before.

He didn't expect a response. You could gather that much from the way he instantly turned back to his phone, rendering you nonexistent once again. Namjoon would have told you to remain civil. But Namjoon was gone. It hurt to think that way, but if his voice hadn't emerged to mitigate this situation now, then Jimin was yours for the taking.

"You're a fucking ass." It seems brash was the only approach to seize immediate attention from Jimin. His eyes widened as if you had grown twice as large and the vision of you wouldn't fit in his narrowed, judgmental glare. "This may be a joke or a throw away gig for you, but this means a lot to me."

"Wanna back off, Jesus. I only-"

"No, I don't wanna back off. I haven't had the best year, and having a co-star that treats me like shit isn't really helping either. And, I get it, you're some sort of elitist who thinks they earned their success." You scoffed, tethering his eyes with yours as though there were a string tying them together. And with each step closer you took, the knot only secured tighter. "But people like you, men like you, don't do shit to earn where they are. But it's so cute the way you think you did! Truly, it's embarrassing watching you flaunt your ego around like you actually have something to be proud of."

"So it's like that, huh? You know, I was almost starting to respect you." The fact that his delivery suggested this was some sort of badge of honor made him all the more pathetic. You should not have put it past Jimin to boast over paying a fundamental level of respect where it's due.

"Wow," You doused a generous layer of sarcasm over your throat so the words came out so. "Basic human decency? From you? How can I ever repay you for such kindness?”

"I said almost."

"You're pathetic."

"Like you're one to talk."

"Yeah, well at least I don't pretend I'm hot shit." The tip of your shoes finally closed the gap between his. Again, you were snared in his warmth, however it didn't feel as tranquil as before. Now, it was closer to a pot of boiling water, evaporating flesh and bone until you were steam floating along the air, bendable and displayed out thinly.

"You don't pretend because you're just that bad of an actor, huh?"

It suffocated you, being this close with him; the blurry details of his face became sharp this way. His eyes were hypnotically watchful of your lips, preparing for your next gambit. You surrendered only a smirk, hoping it would antagonize him. And you could have sworn standing at the furthest point of the Earth from Jimin wouldn't appease this invasive thronging. The universe had yet to expand wide enough to provide an acceptable distance away from him. Until then, you were left with shallow bouts of breath tasting of metallic hatred, hoping those would alchemize into words that would make you seem more intimidating that you really were.

"Please, I could act circles around you. Your performance is transparent. Anyone with a scope of the basics of acting could see through you."

"Is that so?" You hated how quick you had been to notice his tongue slip along his lower lip. He must have found this delicious, patronizing someone who only had 'friend number five' or 'cashier' as proof of their employment. Jimin was greedy, devouring all the blood spilled from his wounding retorts.

In some perverse way, being the focus of his attention had you feeling fulfilled. Jimin, the man commonly sought after among the demographic of teenagers and middle-aged women. Not only were you proving your merits of qualification to act alongside him, but you had something to prove to yourself. You weren't going to let Jimin push you around without pushing him right back. You were strong enough to fight. It seemed to have come natural to you to enjoy provoking anger in him. It felt as if you were finally accomplishing something that was unattainable to anyone else.

And even if you wanted to retreat, his gaze guaranteed your obedience. It was a battle, along with every other exchange you have had with him. Even when silence was the only parcel between you two, when the only semblance of noise was heavy, jaded inhales, it felt as though you and he were at wits to gather more air than the other. To see who would fall breathless first.

"You're pathetic." His words hit like physical blows, and you might have had to check for bruises along your ribs and torso from the churning sensation in your stomach.

"If I'm pathetic, I don't know what that makes you." You wanted your rebuttal to feel like fire. You wanted to scorch and sear blisters along his flawless skin for proof of any successful hit. “A privileged boy with enough of daddy’s money to get him any job he wants. But, I’m the pathetic one?”

He appeared unscathed, with one end of his lips rugged upwards, mocking you without needing any of the words to do so. Perhaps he'd gotten the best of you, as you were searching through your arsenal of refutes only to find it overspent. It would not have surprised you to discover his supply of acidic insults piling without a visible dent.

His eyes looked fully employed in studying you, and you felt disrobed to be under such scrutiny from a stranger. Jimin seemed to have been reading you like words on a page, armed with a twisted smile that was unnervingly addictive, but you tried your hardest to keep your book closed. You didn’t want him to know how weak you really were.

"God, you're so-"

"Oh, great! Both of you are still here." Seokjin's voice reminded you that there was a world of events beyond you and Jimin. For a moment, you had felt secluded into a universe constructed especially for any collateral destruction that might have come of whatever war was about to be waged. "I have some notes for you two. Go home, read, digest, and come prepared tomorrow! I have full confidence in the two of you."

"Thanks." Succinct yet not lacking any tonal sentiment, Jimin got the first word in with the director, leaving you scrambling to find yours.

"Thank you." You were frustrated in how recycled your responses felt after Jimin handled them. Actors like you always fed on scraps of the higher-ups, and they were never as appetizing or filling as you would hope.

"See ya, ___." Your name sounded awful on his tongue, like his voice had filtered out the good parts of it and the waste remained spilling from his lips. Like dirt or decayed flesh, or both, and saying your name was akin to saying a slur.

"Fuck you." Those words couldn't sift through your screwed jaw or muffled throat, but it gave you satisfaction that it had been said in the slightest.

It wasn't until you were halfway to the bus stop that the realization pummeled you down a hole you hadn’t recollected being dredged. That whole time, what might have been the product of a mere ten minutes, was the longest segment you had gone without thinking of him.

It was the most intimately you had ever engaged in a conversation with someone other than the late, imagined voice in your head. And it was the most you've gone without consulting with said voice before speaking. You simply spoke, and listened, and responded; like you were normal. You couldn't tell whether that was good, because maybe you would finally be able to move forward with the world, perhaps catch up with the life you were supposed to be living. But, at the same time, the guilt festering something acrid in the pit of your stomach had you convinced this wasn't entirely sunny skies and bright futures.

"I'm sorry." What frightened you, besides your mental slip to keep the words meant for Namjoon in your head, was the unreturned sound of his ringing through. It took the longest ten seconds of your life for the mental silence to be furtively trimmed by your own train of thoughts.

Jimin had done this to you, that you were entirely sure of. Jimin and his carnivorous tongue and greedy glare had drained your head of its second conscious. The one it had adopted when Namjoon's body could no longer harbor it. And that's how he lived on, through you.

Jimin took that away, somehow. You could almost kill him for it, but you had not favored a life in prison nor tabloids that headlined the Park Jimin being murdered or 'Crazy, Jealous Co-star On Murderous Rampage Targets Jimin'. So, for the time being, all that was accessible was quiet hatred.

And you took that over nothing. You hated Park Jimin.

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