#the entire last maybe what. 20 pages of this book. like free fall | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ey8508 · 3 years

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Rumors and Secrets: Victor | 李泽言

Note:

R&S for this card (CG above)

Chapter SPOILERS up to Season 2: Chapter 18-21 (read at your own risk)

Contains 5 chapters

Translation isn’t 100% accurate (or include grammar errors)

Every part for LZ’s dialogue would be in “this setting”

Do not repost to any other site (reblog is fine)

Chapter 1 Page 1 It's no exaggeration to say that the name "Li Zeyan" has run through my entire high school era. This "evil fate" probably starts with a 31-point Chinese test paper. I'm Gao Qishan, only 17 years old at that time, but there are so many things that usually interest me. Games, animations, and football are nothing compared than reading a book in a room. But hey, it's a pity that my dad doesn't think so. "I only scored 31 points in the Chinese test, and I'm still here with a hippie smile!" In the study, the old man blew his beard, looking disappointed, "How can my son be so useless!" Page 2 "Your son is very capable. I was the MVP of the basketball game last night!" "Your PPP is useless! You are in the second year of high school, not the second grade of elementary school! You have a 31-point score and you have a face to play basketball? You don't have any shame or a competitive spirit. Do you not want to go to college anymore?!" . I was about to reply impatiently, the old man took out a magazine from somewhere, poked his hand at the cover and yelled at me: "Look at the person. He founded the company at the age of 20. In just two years, he has been on the "Business Rising Stars" cover interview! Look at yourself again, someone who is almost 17 years old and does not have the realization of it, do you want to be in the worst generation in the future, ah?!" Page 3 I'm not happy to hear this: "What's so great about starting a company? Your son, I will start a company in minutes!” "I'm almost out of school, and I started my own company? Oh, I'm going to be better!" The old man raised his head, and the thick magazine almost hit my handsome face. "Learn from others, and don't give me daydreaming here!" Page 4 I grabbed this "Business Rising Stars" with enthusiasm. A decent young man in a suit was looking ahead through the photo. On the cover was a striking headline: "Li Zeyan, an astounding leader in Lianyu City.” "This title is exaggerated!" Even if I was taught by Lao Gao, I was inexplicably better compared with this Li Zeyan, and I just threw the magazine under the sofa. Who wants to learn from him? Just looking at it is a tarnish to my ability! Page 5 But somehow, at night I tossed and turned and I couldn't fall asleep! The more I closed my eyes, the more uncomfortable I was, what did Li Zeyan do. When I turned over for the 100th time, I suddenly sat up. It was a task by old Gao to read the magazine anyway, so I decided to retrieve the magazine and just take a look. After sneaking into the study room, it took me a long time to find the magazine in the innermost part of the sofa. Page 6 "... Although Li Zeyan is only 22 years old, he is already the president of Huarui, an emerging medium-sized company in Lianyu City. Starting from scratch, he started from a small office to now has hundreds of people. Every step he walks is particularly solid and decisive. Li Zeyan’s way of business is beyond ordinary. He is like a lion, born with a King's aura." All these compliments just for this, isn't it just descriptions of someone starting their own company? I just haven't paid much attention to reading. Just relying on my ingenuity, and getting a high score on the tests, it is absolutely nothing when it comes to starting a company. Hmph, just you wait. Chapter 2 Page 1 The university in City A is not only one of the top five in the province, but also the top five in the country. It is a university that I, Gao Qishan was admitted to dignifiedly! How about that, I said I'm absolutely fine. In a blink of an eye, the freshman year has passed. In the past two years, I have also paid a little attention to Huarui. The development has been okay, it has not closed down, and the scale has doubled. It's just normal development. Is it worth the old Gao's praise from time to time? Every time he flipped through a financial magazine and sighed, "You are so young, so good", it sounds a bit too much. Page 2 As the saying goes, "Seeing is believing", I think this sentence is right. Taking advantage of the summer vacation, I decided to apply for Huarui's summer internship to see in person how the company is, just not to waste my talents and financial knowledge. Soon I entered the building, but how can the interviewer in the middle feel a bit familiar, the more I look at it, the more I recognize... Wait, isn't it exactly Li Zeyan?! What's happening, is Huarui going bankrupt? Why is the president personally do the interviewing for the summer interns? Page 3 "Manager Chen has something to do, I happen to be free." Probably my shock expression was too obvious. Li Zeyan flipped through the information at hand and looked up at me blankly. "Gao Qishan? First, briefly introduce yourself." I don't know what's going on. I was so startled by Li Zeyan that I couldn't help but straighten up. After swallowing my throat, I mobilized all my attention, took a deep breath and said, "Hello, my name is Gao Qishan, and I am a freshman in the Department of Economics and Management of the University of City A..." Page 4 After introducing himself, Li Zeyan asked a few more related professional questions. This kind of small question is nothing to me. It seems that Huarui’s interview is nothing more than that. He occasionally knocked his fingers on the table subconsciously, and asked with a deep gaze: "Why do you want to come to Huarui for an internship?" The continuous response made me more and more relaxed. I changed my sitting position and quickly thought about how to deal with this new question. Judging from previous information, Li Zeyan is a person who likes to win at everything. He should appreciate the kind of answers that seem extraordinarily confident, right? Page 5 After carefully thinking about this, I straightened my back and raised my chin and said: Although Huarui is quite a new company, it has grown at an amazing speed, and the achievements it has made so far are obvious to all in the industry. And although I am a freshman student, I think I have a very strong learning ability. In this regard, I have a lot of similarities with Huarui. Therefore, I think Huarui is very suitable for me and will definitely make me grow faster. Of course, I can definitely give back the same freshness and vitality for Huarui. With a confident smile, I finished my speech and waited quietly for Li Zeyan's nod. But to my surprise, a few seconds later I was greeted by a frown from Li Zeyan. Page 6 "It seems that you have confidence in yourself. To be a man and to do things really requires self-confidence, but everything must be controlled." Li Zeyan stared at me and said in a hurry, "Only by maintaining reflection and introspection can we truly make progress." I understood his words, and my face flushed. A few days later, I really received a notice from HR (Human Resources) and I didn't get hired. Page 7 Although I had a foreseeable result from Li Zeyan's remarks, when I really received a reply and recalled the interview scene, I was still very angry. After my sophomore year, I went back to the final exams and tried to fight for the first place. I'll make sure that my ambitions are not just mere words. I have written down the "new hatred and old hatred" on my notes. I will definitely use the shortest time to create my own territory, leaving Huarui far behind! Chapter 3 Page 1 Today is the first day of my "Yuanshan Group" moving to a new building. Morning light came in from the spacious floor-to-ceiling windows, and I stood by the desk, proudly holding on to the brand-new office chair. In the next semester of the junior year, I used the dividends I participated in the project as the start-up capital, and I didn't need a penny higher than the old one, so my "distant mountain" just rose from the ground. Isn’t it just 20-year-old to start a company from scratch? What's the difficulty? When I founded Yuanshan, I was exactly 21, and the rounding is almost the same as Li Zeyan. Because of this, my old man, Lao Gao stopped training me long ago, and I guess he must have praised me secretly. Page 2 In just a few years, Yuanshan has grown from a small company of eight people to a scale that now occupies a seven-story high-end office building, and the suffix has also changed from "company" to the word "group". To be honest, my founder is very satisfied with Yuanshan's growth. Although there is still a certain distance from Huarui, after all, they are also developing along the way, but it doesn't matter, I am still young, and sooner or later I can catch up. It didn't take long before the opportunity to "catch up" came. Page 3 I was originally interested in the land to the north of Lianyu City. When I heard that Huarui was also planning to bid on that land, I became more interested. The Lianyu Municipal Government intends to develop the somewhat hindered northern side. At present, construction has begun to build a crossing bridge and a shopping mall, and this piece of land is nearby. "It is more than enough to build a six-star resort with 18,000 square meters and the supporting facilities can be added. Maybe Huarui made the same idea." I have paid attention to the recent developments of Huarui and have invested in four resort hotels one after another. The senior management of the company also agreed that the land is worthwhile, and if it can be won within the highest valuation of 89 million yuan, it should make a profit without losing it. Page 4 A month later, I came to the auction site with confidence. Sitting in front of me at ten o'clock is Li Zeyan, the president of Huarui in a suit and leather shoes. After a few years of absence, I can finally compete with him. On the stage, the auctioneer gave an impassioned introduction to the land, and then said in a melodious tone: "The starting price is 35 million, and the auction will begin now!" As soon as the voice fell, several companies immediately raised their signs. But my opponent is Huarui. It is still early, so I have to wait for Huarui to make a move. Page 5 When the bidding became increasingly fierce, Li Zeyan finally raised his placard for the first time: "60 million." The opponent finally appeared, and I immediately raised the number plate: "61 million." As if he was just encountering an ordinary bidder, Li Zeyan never answered with words, but raised his placard again: "70 million." I continued to chase: "71 million!" Side to the front, Li Zeyan seemed to raise his eyebrows slightly. After a few seconds, he raised the number plate again, and said: "80 million." Page 6 "81 million!" As if finally realizing my bite, Li Zeyan glanced at me slightly sideways, then he raised the number plate, the noise was low and clear: "90 million." This figure has already exceeded the company's highest valuation, and the assistant quietly tugged on my sleeve, beckoning me to forget it. But if I really give up on this, I still feel no sigh of relief in my heart. The auctioneer has already shouted in front: "90 million twice." Page 7 "100 million!" My voice came out, at the last moment. Of course, Li Zeyan finally gave me a straight look. I watched his hand nervously, and saw that the number plate was never raised again, and the auctioneer had already shouted excitedly: "One hundred million! Yuanshan Group has come out of one hundred million! One hundred million once! Three hundred million!, make a deal!" Page 8 Finally got it! Such a valuable piece of land I believe it will be a great help to Yuanshan, and it’s just around the corner to get rid of Huarui. I didn't even consider the cost of 100 million yuan. I just felt that my body was comfortable and exuberant, and the bright prospects were beckoning me. When Li Zeyan passed by me, my triumphant pride couldn't stop. "Thanks to Mr. Li for the bidding this time." Page 9 Li Zeyan put his suit jacket on one hand, and passed by me. I thought he would argue with me back, but Li Zeyan just raised his eyebrows uninterested, and then strode away without looking back. Okay, as the winner of the auction, I allow the loser to occasionally gaffe. Just when I was gearing up to do a big job, the Finance Department urgently sent a bad report. Due to my "passionate bidding", Yuanshan's capital chain suddenly had a problem. Chapter 4 Page 1 I urgently convened a high-level meeting, and after several discussions, the best solution at present turned out to be to invest in Huarui! Personally speaking, I have a hundred reluctances in my heart. Not long before the auction, I took the initiative to bow to Hua Rui. Didn't that slap me in the face severely. However, the cruel reality lies in front of us. Yuanshan is not only my own person, but also the collective effort of hundreds of employees. To let Yuanshan survive this crisis steadily, I can only and must "take the initiative to surrender" to Huarui. Forget it, "vote" just "vote"! Although it was a mistake in my decision-making this time, Yuanshan's development prospects are so good that Li Zeyan should never not invest as long as his eyes are correct. Page 2 However, the negotiation process is still more difficult than I expected. It is not that Huarui has no intention to invest, but almost all the conditions listed are on the lowest line of the distant mountains. "If I remember correctly, the creditworthiness of Huarui's previous investment in the gaze lock company is not very high." I fought hard against the low pressure, and Yuanshan's creditworthiness has always been in the top four in the industry. "...with Yuanshan's creditworthiness Huarui's right to speak will definitely be improved. I think Mr. Li can think about it again." Page 3 "Do you think you are still eligible to negotiate terms with me?" Li Zeyan straightened his mouth, exuding deterrence, "...Huarui Investment in Yuanshan is not for charity, and has no obligation to pay for your suicidal behavior." He raised his hand and glanced at his watch, with a hint of impatience on his face: "Think carefully about it yourself." The long negotiation was finally over. Although Yuanshan and Huarui finally reached a cooperation intention, the whole process failed me. I thought I was about to be on the same line of competition with Li Zeyan, but I was beaten back to the former "interviewer" again. Page 4 By the area downstairs in Huarui, I was smoking a stuffy cigarette, and suddenly there was a faint sound of footsteps behind me. It turned out to be Li Zeyan. Although he was still expressionless, the murderous aura and arrogance from the negotiations seemed to have diminished. Li Zeyan steadily walked to my side: "Gao Qishan, I remember you once came to interview for a summer internship." I didn't expect Li Zeyan to take the initiative to speak. I was surprised. He said: "Several years have passed, and it seems that self-confidence is increasing." If it wasn't for my lose, I stood up slightly: “Although I made a mistake this time, as far as the strength of Yuanshan is concerned, I have the capital to be confident." Page 5 "Yuanshan's strength is indeed pretty good, but don't rush to eat the cakes that you can't eat for the time being. Being high is far from a long-term plan for enterprise development." Li Zeyan said lightly, and took out a card from his pocket and handed it to me, "There will be a practical business forum in Lianyu City next week. You can come and listen when you have time." A practical business forum? What do you mean, is he mocking me for being too pragmatic? The inexplicable enthusiasm and self-esteem suddenly appeared, and I blurted out: "Mr. Li, even if Yuanshan is really not as good as Huarui now, there is no need to humiliate people like this, right?" Page 6 Li Zeyan frowned: "What are you talking about?" He paused, his eyes sinking, "I thought you would be an opponent you could look forward to, but I didn't expect the vision to be just like that." Without additional explanation, Li Zeyan turned and walked away after speaking. I was stunned, looking at Li Zeyan's steadily leaving behind, I couldn't help but relive the conversation just now in my mind. Could it be that Li Zeyan meant that because he regarded me as a potential opponent and hoped that this opponent could become stronger and more competitive, did he propose to let me participate in the business forum? Page 7 That's right, it seems that only such an explanation can make sense! Thinking of this, I couldn't help blowing a whistle. After all, it was an "imaginary enemy" and pursuit of goals since the age of 17, which can be affirmed and recognized by Li Zeyan. It is simply an easter egg that comes with the negotiation, and it is worthy of the old man to praise me ten times. I was being silly and happy. Suddenly my fingers hurt, I have forgotten about my cigarette that was about to burn my fingers! Chapter 5 Page 1 With Huarui's capital injection, Yuanshan passed the crisis steadily. After more than half a year, the foundation of the resort has gradually taken shape. Just when everything seemed to be going in a good direction, early this morning, the news of "the crash of the president of Huarui" directly bombed all major platforms. Reminiscent of the so-called "homicide list" that was suddenly leaked on the internet a few days ago, I inexplicably feel that these two things may have some connection. Who on earth wants Huarui to sink in the water? Wait a minute, which company announced the list. Could it be that their person in charge is secretly playing tricks? Page 2 Before I could find anything out of my investigation, within a few days, the news of "Which company claims that Huarui has maliciously acquired a large number of pharmaceutical companies" once again detonated all platforms! "Deliberately monopolizing the pharmaceutical market will inevitably cause the price of medicines to rise, which is obvious." "Just for profit, this behavior is very bad!" "Even Huarui's own workers and can't stand it, which shows how terrible Li Zeyan's actions are!" Page 3 Opinions on the Internet are divergent, and public grievances are boiling, and they all accuse Huarui. But I don’t believe it. Although I have only met Li Zeyan several times in person, for so many years, because I have always regarded him as an opponent and target, I have studied Huarui and Li Zeyan’s behavior more than anyone else. The nonsense on the Internet, I don't believe a word! I browsed the web quickly, staring at the almost identical title and searched viciously. Page 4 "Huarui’s reputation plummeted, Li Zeyan fell into a situation where everyone was clamoring and angry, and the heads of the company was clearly cut off from him." In the video, the host's voice kept ringing into my ears. All the signs made me firmer in my previous thoughts: It must be looking at which company is crossing the river to demolish the bridge! I immediately called the assistant to the inside line: "How much do you hire me for a large number of naval forces? How many can you hire? How many! That's right, I have to spare no effort to clarify for Huarui, and by the way, I will focus on the company. Going right now!" I know that this "bad strategy" and only a small help but I haven't beaten Li Zeyan righteously, how could Huarui have an accident in such a situation! What I want is not the taste of winning without a fight. Page 5 Probably because of anger, I couldn't help but send a message to Li Zeyan: The outside world said that Huarui's energy is exhausted. You will not be reduced to the point where you still need to borrow money from me, right?" This message was sent, and I did not expect Li Zeyan to reply to me. However, when it was almost midnight, I suddenly received an email from Huarui. ‘Huarui has always been a responsible company, and will do what it says without fear of any storms. Now everything is running normally, you don't need to worry about it.’ Signer: Li Zeyan. Page 6 Looking at this email, I couldn't help but smile in the middle of the night. Also, Huarui has always been fighting steadily, and Li Zeyan has never fought unprepared battles. Maybe he is playing a big move. Otherwise, how can I say that he is my respectable and close opponent! As for my secret match with Li Zeyan. Give me another three or four years to see who wins and who loses.

#rumors and secrets Victor #mr love queens choice #mr love queens choice victor #love and producer #love and producer li zeyan #mr love victor

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alpacaparkaseok · 3 years

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Happy Holidays - BTS Style

OT7 Imagine/Reactions

Hey guys! I thought it’d be fun to to an ot7 holiday oneshot with all the members! So the following are seven different prompts from my prompt list with the seven members! Enjoy, and happy holidays!

18. “Why are you still up?” - Jin

Christmas Day had passed and gone, you were sitting in the middle of the front room staring up at the lights on the Christmas tree. Tomorrow would mean it was time to take everything down and prepare for the new year.

“Why are you still up?”

Jin enters the room wearing his new fluffy robe you had bought him more as a joke than anything; but he insisted on wearing it all day.

You shrug, keeping your eyes glued on the beautiful Christmas tree. “Just enjoying the last few minutes of Christmas.”

Jin comes up beside you, settling on the floor and sitting shoulder to shoulder. Grabbing a blanket from off the sofa he wraps it around the two of you, pulling you into his chest.

“Mind if I sit with you?” Jin’s voice is soft as he studies your face, visibly relaxing when he sees that you aren’t upset. Just contemplative.

Snuggling in closer to him, you laugh lightly. “Depends...did you bring snacks?”

Jin sighs, his hand delving into the deep pockets of his robe and pulling out a chocolate orange. “You’re lucky I love you.”

Sneaking a peck to his cheek, you giggle at how his cheeks redden in the dim light of the room. “Love you, too.”

20. “Merry Christmas, bub.” - Yoongi

It’s no secret that Min Yoongi doesn’t enjoy waking up early in the morning, and Christmas is no exception. That’s what he told you last night as you rolled out a sleeping bag in the front room, deeming it a perfect night to sleep before the Christmas tree.

You realized fairly soon that the hardest part wasn’t convincing him to sleep out on the floor - it was getting him to wake up in the morning.

You’d been patient, waiting until at least 7 before trying to wake him up. At first, he didn’t even budge. You poked and prodded at his puffy cheeks until he groaned, turning the other way.

“Yoooongi,” you coo, laughing as he dives further into his sleeping bag. “Min Yoooongi!”

Yoongi groans again, kicking at his sleeping bag until he can see your smiling face. He frowns back up at you.

“Whadda you want?”

A glance at the time shows that it’s already 7:30, obviously time to get things rolling. “It’s Christmas, Yoongs! Get up, we’ve got to eat and open presents! We’re supposed to be over at Jin’s by 10-”

Yoongi wraps his arms around you, pulling you down with him until you’re squished up against his chest. “Five more minutes.”

“But-”

Tipping your chin up, Yoongi dusts a kiss over the tip of your nose. “Merry Christmas, bub.”

Rolling your eyes, you give in, already beginning to keep time in your head. “Yeah yeah. Merry Christmas.”

6. “Snuggle season is the best season.” - Hoseok

“Is there any left?”

Hoseok peeks inside the giant pot of hot chocolate. “Yeah, you want a refill?”

I nod, handing over my giant mug that he gifted me earlier in the day. Hoseok makes a show of ladling the chocolatey drink into my mug, yelping when a bit hops out and nearly lands on his new sweater.

“It’s out to get me!” He declares, handing me the drink with a wary glance. I can’t help but laugh, shrugging as I walk away. We’ve just started “The Polar Express” as a nice way to wrap up our Christmas.

Hoseok steps over the couch from the back, making me hiss as he plops down beside me, nearly making me spill. “Hobiii,’ I mumble, carefully setting my hot chocolate down on the side table.

“Whoops,” he nuzzles in close to me. “Sorry.”

The movie unfolds before us as we watch on and comment on different things we enjoy about the movie.

“See, this is why winter is the best season,” I say. “I mean, what other season is so cozy? Just sitting and watching feel-good movies, drinking hot chocolate-”

“...snuggling....” Hobi mumbles under his breath, keeping both eyes glued to the screen.

I raise my eyebrows. “...yes. Snuggling. But you can snuggle whenever.”

Hoseok shrugs, snuggling in even closer to me. “Yeah, but this is the season of snuggles.”

Laughing, I brush his hair away from his eyes and watch as they widen as the movie. “Is that your main point for why winter in the best? How on earth would you defend that in a debate?”

Giving me a quick glance before returning his attention to the movie, I refrain from laughing as Hoseok is clearly a bit embarrassed.

“It’s easy. Snuggle season is the best season.”

Dropping my head against his shoulder, I go back to watching the movie. “Can’t argue with that.”

I can feel Hobi’s grin even though I can’t see him. “My point exactly.”

2. “Do you think anybody has ever used an ice skate as a murder weapon?” - Namjoon

Sitting amidst the piles of wrapping paper and ribbons, I look across the room to where Namjoon sits in a similar situation.

“Merry Christmas.”

Namjoon grins, grabbing a garbage bag and starting to shove the wrapping paper inside. “Merry Christmas.”

It’s quiet today, we’ll be meeting up with everyone else later in the day. For now, I’m content to sprawl out on the sofa with my new book that Namjoon got me. It’s a riveting true story, one that deals with betrayal, plot twists, and adrenaline inducing scenes.

Namjoon sets up camp on the opposite sofa, immediately diving into his new book as well. It’s a self-help book that he’s been going on and on about for weeks - he made it all too easy to pick out his Christmas gift.

The low tones of Christmas music playing from our speaker are the only sounds besides the occasional rustle of a page being turned. My book takes me on a ride, and before I know it hours have passed and I’m right in the middle of the action.

Namjoon breathes deep as though reviving from a deep sleep, looking over at me from where he lays on the couch. “We should probably get going.”

Reluctantly setting my book down, I nod. “Does this mean that I actually have to get ready?” Namjoon throws back his head and laughs, completely understanding the sentiment as he runs a hand through his unruly hair.

“Nope. I’m not going to, at least. You look great anyways.”

A few warm layers and a cold car later, Namjoon and I sing along to a few songs on the radio as we head across town. As the songs begin to change, I fall silent. Coming to a stop at a red light, I begin to ponder my book.

My face must reflect my contemplative state perfectly, because Namjoon chuckles beside me. “What are you thinking about?”

Blinking at him, I frown. “Do you think anybody has ever used an ice skate as a murder weapon?”

Now it’s Namjoon’s turn to blink at me. The light turns green, so I continue to drive, starting to wonder if I sounded a bit strange.

Once we’ve pulled into Jin’s driveway, I turn off the car and face Namjoon. “Why haven’t you said anything?”

Namjoon lets out a startled laugh, looking at me with bright eyes. “Sorry, I didn’t even realize that I never answered you. I was...busy.”

Furrowing my brows I hop out of the car, Namjoon linking my arm through his as we make our way up the sidewalk.

“Busy? With what?”

Namjoon’s head is pointed down as he grins, his dimple making an appearance. “I was busy falling in love with you all over again.”

My eyes grow wide before I burst out into laughter, Namjoon following suit. “You love me because of murder?”

Namjoon nods his head. “Definitely. What more could I want?”

Rolling my eyes, I see that everyone is already inside Jin’s apartment. “You...wow. We’re messed up.”

Namjoon winks at me. “In the best way.”

7. “Your toes are like ice blocks! Noooo stop touching me!!” - Jimin

“That. Was. Amazing.”

Jimin comes huffing and puffing inside the house, tearing off his beanie and scarf as he spots me. Taehyung and Hoseok trail in after him.

“I assume you had fun?”

Jimin laughs, his entire face lighting up as he begins to recount everything that happened on their sledding adventure.

“...and then Tae fell off his sled and literally rolled down the rest of the mountain! I’ve never laughed so hard in my entire life.” Indeed, he’s in the process of wiping tears from his eyes as he finishes his tale, the other two boys having disappeared into the kitchen where the promise of food proved to be too much of a temptation.

I chuckle at the mere sight of Jimin, his cheeks still red from the cold and his eyes wide. “Sounds like a good afternoon.”

He nods, sliding onto the couch and laying down. He stretches his legs until he’s pushing against mine. I immediately hiss and retract my feet as his cold toes brush up against me.

“Your toes are like ice blocks!” I shriek, only making Jimin tuck his toes under my legs in an effort to warm them up. “Noooo stop touching me!!” Jimin’s evil laugh rings in my ears as I glare at him, promptly standing up to go to a different couch.

“Oh no you don’t!” Jimin shouts, launching off the couch and pulling me back down in a pile on top of him. “If you really love me, you’ll help me warm up.”

I snort. “Put some socks on! I’m not sacrificing my body heat for you!”

“Wait, so you don’t love me?” Jimin’s puppy dog eyes are hard to ignore; especially when he still has me locked in his arms.

“Gahhh you know that’s not what I-”

“Well then say it if you-”

“C’mon Chim, just go put some socks on!”

Jimin shakes his head, chuckling. “I’m alright like this, thanks.”

Wriggling around until I finally break free of his grasp, I roll onto the floor with a triumphant shout. Jumping up and sprinting into Jimin’s room, I hurry back with a pair of thick socks, taking the opportunity to throw them at Jimin who remains on the couch.

He shouts when the socks hit him on the side of the head. “Hey! What was that for?”

Coming up behind the couch, I begin playing with his messy hair. “That’s how I say ‘I love you’. Didn’t you like it?”

Jimin laughs as he slips his socks on. “It was perfect. But maybe we could take a less violent approach next time?”

I shrug. “Beggars can’t be choosers.”

19. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to find fresh flowers in the middle of winter?” - Taehyung

You’ve been out searching for over two hours, so your state of mind isn’t necessarily the best when you finally roll into the apartment at nearly ten o’clock at night.

Taehyung tends to be spontaneous - he has an affinity for sending you out on random adventures at the most inconvenient time - but tonight it was just cold enough to have you in a frustrated mood by the time you got back.

Kicking your shoes off in the entryway, you’re just about to yell out that you’ve returned when you realize that all is not as you left it.

The lights are darker, soft Christmas music is playing, and is that a poinsettia on the dining table?

Just as you’re standing there in wonder, Taehyung rounds the corner. He wearing a deep green sweater, just nice enough to tip you off.

“Ah, you found some flowers!” He gushes, rushing over to you and taking the beautiful flowers that you just bought from your grasp. When he’d begged you earlier to go out and buy some fresh flowers, you certainly didn’t expect to be returning to this.

“Do you have any idea how hard it is to find fresh flowers in the middle of winter?” You ask, still a little angry that Tae just sent you on a wild goose chase all around Seoul. Wandering into the dining room as though in a dream, the air is effectively knocked out of you when you see just what he’s prepared.

Taehyung’s voice drifts in from the kitchen, where he’s putting the flowers in a vase. “I know, that’s why I sent you away! I knew it’d take you a while, and I had to get everything set up.”

It’s a wonder that he was able to get everything set up and ready to go in just a couple of hours. The entire dining room is decked out in candles, beautiful placements, and a few wrapped presents lying around.

“Where’s everyone else?” You wonder aloud. After all, this is the shared apartment between all seven boys. Taehyung brushes past you, standing before the table and debating whether he should replace the poinsettia with the fresh flowers or leave it be.

“Oh, they’re gone tonight. I convinced them to...get lost.”

You can’t help but laugh, your frustration from earlier dissolving as you watch Taehyung place the fresh flowers on a side table.

“Ok, the food will be here any minute-”

“Tae.”

The man in question turns to face you, pure innocence spelled across his face. “Yes?”

“What’s going on?”

“Oh,” Taehyung chuckles, realizing that he’s kept you in the dark. “Right. Well, I just wanted to do something nice with you. For Christmas. Before we have to leave and I won’t get to see you.”

You heart melts at his words, and you follow him to sit down at the table. “So you did all of this?” He nods. “It’s amazing, Tae.”

“You really think so?”

You nod. “I know so. Thank you, darling.”

Taehyung nods, opening his mouth but the sound of a knock on the door cutting him off. “Oh, that must be the takeout!” Taehyung scurries off, leaving you in a fit of laughter as you realize that Taehyung, for all his fancy tendencies, is still just Tae.

The memory of the two of you eating cheap takeout on fine china is a memory you’ll keep for a long time.

5. “Where were you?” “Building a snow fort, duh.” - Jungkook

It’s freezing. Not the freezing that people say when they want to complain about how cold it is outside. Those people are weak. Those are the people that decide that they’d better stay inside because they can’t handle the slightest bit of cold.

No, today is actually freezing. Like, you think your toes my be amputated if you stay out here for much longer.

Huffing, you pull out your phone to see if you’ve received a text from Jungkook. You haven’t. A quick check at your conversation shows you the same thing: Jungkook telling you that he’ll be right out, and to wait for him beside the back entrance.

Well, you’ve been waiting for several minutes now outside the back entrance of the Bighit building, and you’re pretty sure you’d rather go inside and risk exposing your entire relationship to the world rather than dying a slow, cold death out here.

You’re in the middle of contemplating what your final words should be when you hear Jungkook’s unmistakable laugh from behind you.

“You look like you're freezing!”

Whirling around, you see the man that has put you through all of this suffering wading out of the tall snowbank, his beanie pulled down low over his ears.

“Where were you?” You mumble as your teeth chatter. Jungkook rushes over to you, rubbing your arms in an attempt to warm you up.

“Building a snow fort, duh.”

Oh, today might be the day you seriously consider murder. “Jeon Jungkook, I’ve been dying out here waiting for you! You couldn’t just-”

Jungkook shushes you with his woolen mitten, grinning at you like you’re confessing your love for him and not reprimanding him.

“It’s warm inside the snow fort.”

You blink, your train of thought shifting gears. “Does your snow fort take deliveries?”

Jungkook laughs, looping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you along. “Oh, absolutely. Wanna check it out?”

Giving in, you sigh. “Yeah.”

“It’ll be fun, I promise.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“You still mad at me for making you wait?”

“...ask me again after I’ve eaten.”

Jungkook laughs, guiding you toward his snow fort and promising to call up some takeout as soon as possible.

Merry Christmas!

masterlist

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kitkat1003 · 3 years

Text

Tower Tales

5: Just how old are they? And how are they heating this place?

AO3 link

@asilcorner

Age is a fickle thing, for toons. Some toons are created old, with a backstory they never lived. Some toons are made to be adults in their prime, never aging, never older or younger despite the passage of time. Some are made to be perpetual children, to never grow up.

They fall into that third category. They think.

See, they were out for a little over half a year. They had a contract, they did vaudeville shows with a crew of older comedians, many who liked them and one who hated them, and they never reached what one might call a birthday before they were locked up.

The one who hated them, he taught them what it was like to be hated, for someone to despise them that much. He was the first they knew personally. They didn’t know that he was a template for everyone else, eventually. That the whole world would mirror him soon.

“Do you think we’re gonna get older?” Wakko asks one day, out of the blue, and Dot and Yakko glance over at him.

“Why would we? We’re toons,” Dot responds.

“Yeah, I don’t think we’re made to age,” Yakko agrees, and Wakko shrugs.

“I guess. I think I just wanted a birthday party. Cake and ice cream...,” he drools just thinking about it.

“Do we even have a birthday?” Dot asks, and there’s a thought. They all pause, and Yakko gets a smile on his face that promises something interesting.

“Why not pick one?”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The conversation ends there, but it’s brought up again, later, and Yakko pulls out the calendar one day after lunch.

“You guys thought about it?” He asks, and at their questioning looks he continues. “The birthday thing.”

Dot shrugs.

“I guess. It seems weird to just pick one. We were made, not born.”

Yakko rolls his eyes. “That’s semantics,” he shoots back.

“Your main form of comedy is semantics.” She’s quick to reply.

“Touché.” He grins, because it never gets old to have someone you can go verbally back and forth with.

“I’d like a birthday,” Wakko pops in, and Dot sighs.

“Well, I wanna go first.” She clasps her hands and raises them to her cheek. “I’m a spring girl, a blossoming flower.”

Yakko makes a face. “That saccharine makes me wilt,” he snarks, and she glares at him. “How about the first day of spring?” he offers, raising his hands in surrender. “It’s either the 19, 20, or 21st of March.”

Dot considers this.

“March is such a boring month. What about May? It’s more the month of spring than March. And the 21st, because I only ever shop at Forever 21!” She strikes a pose.

“Pretty sure that company doesn’t exist yet, so you’re not getting a sponsorship anytime soon.”

“I can try anyway!”

“Didn’t they go bankrupt? Is this really the hill you want to die on?”

“Yakko!”

“May 21st it is!” Yakko marks it on the calendar with a strained grin, and Dot poses victoriously. “Wakko?” he asks.

“I don’t know. I don’t think I have a favorite season,” Wakko taps his hands on his seat to a random beat, tilting his head to the side. “Maybe Halloween? I like getting free candy.” He shrugs.

“Yeah, but then you’d have to share the day with all the trick or treaters! This is your day,” Dot hops up to stand on her seat.

“October 1st? Same month as one of your favorite holidays, but far enough away that it won’t steal your thunder,” Yakko suggests, and Wakko thinks for a moment, and then nods.

“Okay, sounds good.”

“Good,” Yakko marks it down.

“What about you, Yakko?” Dot asks, leaning her elbows on the table and propping her head up with her hands.

“I was thinking uhh....December 31st,” He has a specific reason for it, one he isn’t going to share, but as is his siblings don’t need one.

“That’s awfully close to Christmas,” Dot frowns.

“And it’s right before New Years,” Wakko adds.

“I know, I know, but—I just like it. And besides, what better way to ring in the new year than to celebrate me, huh?” He grins, and Dot rolls her eyes.

“Okay, but it’s kind of hypocritical,” she tells him.

“There goes my place on Santa’s nice list, then, huh,” Yakko writes it down.

According to when he started marking the calendar, they’ve passed Dot’s birthday and Wakko’s. He frowns.

“Guess I’m the only one getting a party this year,” he mutters, looking down at the count. He’d based it off of the last date he could remember before being put in the tower, and how long he thinks they’ve been in here. The thought makes his frown deepen/

“Dangit!” Dot curses, causing Yakko and Wakko to jump. “I wanted a party,” it’s a whine.

“It’s not like there’s anyone besides us to celebrate it,” Wakko says it a bit bluntly, a bit morose, a bit matter of fact, and Dot flinches like she’s been hit, and starts to cry.

“Wakko!” Yakko scolds, and Wakko just blinks. “What? It’s the truth. I try not to think about it but—” he looks away, unexpectedly numb about the whole affair. “They’re not gonna let us out just cause it’s our birthday.”

“Just shut up!” Dot shouts. “Maybe I don’t wanna think about it!” She stomps off, and Wakko watches her leave.

“What’d you do that for?” Yakko asks, because Wakko isn’t dumb. He knows what he’s saying will hurt.

“I don’t know,” Wakko replies. “I think I’m just tired of pretending. I don’t think we’re ever gonna leave.”

And Yakko, well, Yakko didn’t know he had it in him to be angrier at the ones who locked them in here, to hate them all even more, but he does, because the expression of defeat on Wakko’s face should never be there.

“Yeah, but who can throw a party better than the three of us?” He tries, and Wakko smiles a little, hopping off of his stool. He grabs some food out of the fridge and disappears, likely upstairs to eat and maybe set off some bombs.

Yakko hangs up the calendar, flipping it a page and staring at “Yakko’s Birthday!” written in his typical cursive, on December 31st.

The oldest day in a year, on the cusp of the new one. Kind of like him—old and young at the same time. 14 and 30, a brother and father, and a million things in between that threaten to tear him half, like every day he’s struggling to be the kid he wants to be and the adult he needs to be.

He’s very tired, for not even a year old in existence.

He finds Dot, teary eyed in her bed, and jokes away her sorrow. Later, Wakko will apologize—he won’t take back what he said, however. Because nothing he said was a lie.

Whoever said the truth is better than a lie never lived the life the Warners have.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

See, they’ve been using fire for light, for cooking, for practically anything that requires heat or light, because they can’t figure out how to put in electricity. They can summon the incidental lightbulbs that appear over their head in the presence of a sudden idea, but those flicker out fast. They can summon things that require electricity, but to actually use them they need power.

They can tell that it’s nearing winter, because the Tower is getting colder. Metal doesn’t insulate, and they’ve had to start wearing socks to keep their toes from getting frostbite. And toons who don’t have to wear shoes being forced to wear things on their feet is a serious form of torture. Rugs could work, but Dot says that they’re tacky, and so they’re only reserved for certain areas. Even then, the rugs get cold too.

“We can’t summon an outlet,” Yakko paces back and forth in the first floor living room, and Wakko and Dot watch this both for entertainment but also out of concern, because Yakko takes worrying to a professional level. “We can make batteries, but those don’t last long. We don’t have enough toon power yet to make our own electricity...”

“Have we tried drawing one?” Wakko asks. “You have pens on you all the time,” Yakko looks up, blinks, and slams his fist into his palm.

“That’s got to be it,” He pulls out a calligraphy pen, shuffling over to where they planned to place a TV, and he sits on his knees, sticking his tongue out in concentration.

“Do you know how to draw an outlet?” Dot pipes up from behind him, and Yakko rolls his eyes.

“Of course I know how to draw an outlet!” He responds, as if he’s offended she would even ask, but then he stares at the wall for about a minute and then slumps over.

“So?” She makes sure to add a bit of smugness to her voice.

“Do you have a picture of one?” He manages, embarrassment tinging his voice.

“I don’t know. Wakko?” Wakko searches through his gag bag, and pulls out a book.

“Right here!” He scampers over to Yakko, opening the book to the right page, and then Yakko finally gets to work.

Once the outlet is rather perfectly drawn—those are Yakko’s words, not theirs, and Dot rolls her eyes when he says it. All they can do is wait and see if it works.

“If this works, I’m using it to straighten my hair before we use it for anything else,” She grins, and Wakko crosses his arms across his chest.

“Hey, I was the one who thought of drawing it! I want to make some good food. We won’t have to use the icebox anymore!”

Yeah, they don’t exactly have a fridge.

“Well, I drew it, and I’m the oldest, so I’ll decide what to do with it,” Yakko interrupts the two of them. He squints at the drawing, and reaches over to add another bolt.

“I thought you said it was perfectly drawn.”

“Everyone’s a critic.” Yakko rolls his eyes, and Dot grins, but they are interrupted by Wakko’s gasp.

“It worked!” He points, and sure enough, where there was once a wall with a drawing is now an outlet. Yakko wastes no time in pulling out a heater and setting it up.

“We’ll figure out everything else later,” he says, “But we need heat or we’re gonna become popsicles.”

“I’d like to be that tasty,” Wakko rubs his tummy in thought, licking his lips.

“That’s gross, Wakko,” Dot deadpans.

“Eh.” Wakko shrugs.

Yakko shakes his head at the two of them, but he’s smiling.

Electricity makes the entire tower better. Wakko is most excited about the TV and fridge, and Dot is just glad that she can actually see without having to light a match every two seconds.

Yakko is happy with the fact that they have heat, and that’s his opinion on the matter.

They burn their socks. It’s a good day.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

They’re sturdy, for toons, but they aren’t invincible. Contrary to popular belief, injuries to toons can occur. Injury, sickness, etc, it’s all a part of a toon’s life, to a lesser extent, and honestly, Dot is surprised that one of them hasn’t gotten hurt sooner.

The first few months they didn’t do much. Then they were just getting into the groove, and then they were constantly redecorating, and then there was the talk of birthdays, and then there was the whole electricity debacle. They haven’t had the time, not yet, to be wild enough to warrant serious injury. Wakko’s stomach thing doesn’t count, because that wasn’t him being silly so much as it was the dangerous situation.

But, Dot thinks, it was going to happen eventually.

Wakko goes off on his own more often than they do. Yakko doesn’t really seem to like alone time, and Dot doesn’t like to be without her siblings for too long. Even if they’re just background noise, that is more comforting than being alone and knowing they’re on a separate floor. She does, of course, have days where she needs to be alone, but those are few and far in between.

Wakko likes to be alone. He has his own adventures, and maybe that’s just in his nature. The quiet one, to flit in and out of their lives. She doesn’t like that thought, but it comes unbidden to her some days. Of course, he hangs out with them more than he spends time alone, but still. She wonders.

She’s playing with different hairstyles up on the second floor, and Yakko is downstairs, pouring over the encyclopedia he managed to summon—evidently, he’s a history buff, and it doesn’t not make sense but it doesn’t make sense either—while Wakko messes around on the third floor.

And then, they hear Wakko cry out in pain, and suddenly Yakko is just there. She doesn’t even think she saw him go up to the second floor before he’s just at the third, because by the time she gets up there he’s already cradling Wakko close. Wakko keeps trying to reach for his ankle, left leg curled to his chest.

“What’s wrong?” she asks.

“I-I tripped when I was running to the canon, and my ankle hurts!” Wakko cries, whimpering, and Yakko shushes him, soft.

“It looks twisted,” she whispers, more to herself than anything else.

Yakko turns his head to her sharply. “What do we do?” he asks, as if she would know. She shrugs.

“I dunno! I think—don’t you ice stuff like that? At the very least he should lay down,” she fumbles for a solution, but Yakko takes it, nodding and picking Wakko up.

“Sound good, buddy?” he asks. Wakko buries his face in Yakko’s chest in response, and Yakko’s frown deepens.

Dot gets the ice pack while Wakko gets situated, rushing over to wrap it around his ankle. He hisses at the cold, but relaxes as the numbing feeling takes effect.

“Better?” Yakko asks, and Wakko nods.

“Sorry,” Wakko shrugs, sheepish.

“Be more careful next time!” Dot scolds, but not too harshly. The last thing they need is Wakko crying because she was rude. Yakko already looks stressed enough.

They give Wakko dinner in bed, even though technically they’d agreed not to do so since they’re sharing a bed, because this is just an exception. Dot practically bullies Wakko into being careful and clean while he eats.

“If I feel a single crumb on my side of the bed, I’m coming for you,” she pokes him in the chest once, and Wakko chuckles nervously and nods.

Once Wakko and Yakko are asleep, Dot hops out of bed to the dining room table. She pulls out a book—one on first aid. The last thing she needs is another situation like this, where one of her brothers is hurt and she doesn’t know the solution. She opens the tome, and gets to work.

Yakko finds her there hours later, asleep and drooling on the book. He carefully pulls it out from underneath her, and carries her to bed. He glances at the cover. First aid?

Well, isn’t that useful. He knew his sister was smart.

He dog ears her page and flips back to the beginning, skimming through the page as he gets ready to make breakfast.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Time continues to move onward.

They decorate for Christmas. They celebrate Yakko’s birthday, and then the New Year, and then every holiday after that. Yakko discovers Shakespeare and nearly bores his siblings to death with it. Wakko makes weirder and weirder combinations of food, as well as elaborate machines that serve little purpose. Dot learns how to use makeup after many, many attempts that leave her brothers in stitches, and styles her hair a million ways.

The world goes on without them, but, well, they move on without the world. Turnabout’s fair play, after all.

#animaniacs #yakko wakko and dot #yakko warner #wakko warner #dot warner #kitkat1003 #tower tales

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renaerys · 4 years

Text

PPG One-Shot: Blowing Off Steam (Brick/Blossom)

@carriedreamerx and @kiebs have been hard at work these last couple of days drawing some really pretty art over on IG for various of our collective fics (check out their IGs, the art is super gorgeous). Since I have the artistic skills of a rock, I thought I’d say thanks with some Reds fight-and-make-out fic! This is an excerpt from an upcoming multi-chapter fic that will feature the Punks along with the Girls and the Boys. Gist of it is they’ve all been warped to a different planet and are stuck in a weird, possibly haunted house as they try to find a way out of it with punches and problem solving and *gasp* teamwork. They’re all in their late 20s in this. In this excerpt, Brick and Blossom blow off a little steam and Berserk takes all the credit.

(Unbeta’d and subject to change when I get around to posting the actual multi-chapter fic itself.)

xxx

Blossom had never felt more discomfited by Berserk’s absence than her presence, but she felt it now across the table from Brick with no one else around to draw her wandering eye, or his. He shifted his weight in his chair. She stretched her neck. He took a sip of water. She cleared her throat.

After ten minutes of this, he slammed his book shut. “What is happening?”

Blossom fixed her gaze firmly on her book and the passage she’d re-read at least four times now without absorbing any of it. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“It’s taken you twenty minutes to read two pages.”

The knee-jerk urge to refute him tugged at her like a dog begging for table scraps, but she ignored it. He wasn’t wrong. “I guess I’m finding it hard to concentrate today.”

They watched each other across the long table, and it struck her just how red his eyes were even from afar: two burning pits fixed entirely on her. Unsettling, yet strangely warm. She thought about retiring early, but she wasn’t tired. In fact, she was having some trouble sitting still in her chair. Maybe a walk outside would do her good, or even a run. Maybe Buttercup was free and up for a spar. Just anything to get her body moving and her brain blanking before her thoughts burned a hole through her skull and exposed everything to him.

“Let’s go a round,” Brick said. The sound of his chair sliding over the tile screamed in the cavernous, quiet library.

“What?”

“I feel like I’m trying to crawl out of my own skin.” He flexed a fist, and red sparks spiderwebbed along his knuckles to the wrist eager for something to burn.

Blossom’s mouth went dry at the manifest threat of his power calling to her like old ghosts. She could retreat, provide some excuse, it had worked before. But no excuse came to her now, and under the table, her fingers curled around a mass of pastel power itching for a summoning. She rose from her chair, books forgotten, and headed for the door. “We can’t have that,” she said.

He fell into step after her not a moment later and followed her down the hall and up the second floor balcony to the first challenge room. The house was quiet and empty tonight, its vaulted ceilings cold and distant. It was as though they were the only two people awake in this uncanny place.

It took everything Blossom had not to stop and wait for him to catch up. His eyes at her back gave off a singular heat, homing and hyper-focused. Perhaps years ago, she would have never entertained the thought of turning her back on someone so dangerous. Now, the thought of what she might invite if she faced him kept her squarely focused on her destination ahead.

“Ladies first,” Brick said directly behind her when they reached the challenge room. He grabbed the edge of the door and held it open for her.

Blossom looked anywhere but back at him and stepped over the threshold. The change of pressure entering the pocket dimension made her ears pop and the access band on her wrist heat with power. As before, the walls on all sides moved as concrete structures grew and shifted, sky scrapers blooming like flowers and withering to dust, only to sprout again elsewhere. Brick followed and closed the door behind them. Already disoriented, Blossom began to float as she adjusted to the altered gravity and tried to abandon the idea of up versus down.

“Restrictions?” Brick asked. He shed his red jacket, leaving him only in his matching pants and a form-fitting tank top.

Blossom very maturely averted her gaze lest he assume she was ogling him, of all the ludicrous notions. Steeling herself, she unzipped her own red jacket and tossed it aside to join his. “Since when can you afford to restrain yourself against me?”

His laughter, light and low, shivered her to the bone. “All right, then. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

He was on her in a flash with a hard punch. Blossom blocked at the last second, but the force sent her crashing into concrete. She barely had time to cough when he came at her again with another punch aimed at her face, but this time she dodged in the nick of time and it was his turn to eat rubble.

Adrenaline and Chemical X made for a heady, explosive cocktail in her veins that spread from her fingertips to the very ends of her long ponytail. Incandescent, pink power jumped over her bare arms as she poised to receive him again.

“Come on,” she said.

Brick glowed red, and it was her only warning before he rocketed after her. Blossom took off deeper into the maze of ever changing obstacles, the exertion only fueling her faster along in a familiar chase they had not run in years.

The pocket dimension was a death trap. Blossom darted over and under spikes and spires closing around her like jaws, her movements precise and fluid. But Brick was just as adept and wasted little energy swerving around the masticating mandible they had chosen for this evening’s playground.

Blossom swung around and under a sprouting obelisk, trusting her body to move exactly according to her will, but Brick abruptly changed course and met her mid-spin. Anticipating his sneak attack, Blossom let him have it with a wicked kick in the ribs.

Unfortunately, he was damn fast and grabbed her by the ankle just as her kick connected, and they both went flying with the force of her attack. A receding column broke Blossom’s fall with a rude crunch, and she broke Brick’s. Rose met red through a cloud of dust and electric Chemical X.

“Caught you,” he said.

Maybe it was the rush of the moment that drove her, the old thrill of the hunt from their heyday, never acknowledged but deeply felt. She felt him now, palms searing around her knee and pinning her neck, and she reached back.

Too close to avoid her open palm on his chest, Brick took her ice at point-blank range and blasted away in a flurry of snowflakes. He nearly hit a stone pillar punching out of the undulating wall, but managed to flip out of its path at the last second.

Blossom floated higher, her arms sleeved in ice and her breath misty. The temperature plummeted further as her power rippled through the pocket dimension. “Not quite,” she said in a voice that crept in between the shifting sky scrapers like hoarfrost.

Across from her, Brick’s power sluiced off him as thick as magma. He was a bright, burning star in this grey world, and god she could feel him pushing back and fighting for ground as if he were right in front of her. The chemically saturated air shimmered around him and ignited the blood in his eyes as they met hers. “Come here.”

It was all the encouragement she needed to give in to the timeless spark between them and unleash. Frost met fire as they collided, broke, and collided again. His punches smoldered, but her ice tempered them to cleansing smoke. And when she caught him in a freezing hold, he inevitably slipped through behind a veil of steam. Each unable to smother the other, they were evenly matched and forever at odds as they ricocheted off stone towers and toppled thrusting obelisks in their bid for dominance.

And that was what this was, what it had always been. Blossom had never felt the need to control and dominate another like she felt it fighting Brick. Call it fate, or design, or maybe it was just him, but there was nothing like this release, this honest surrender to the creature she was and always would be, made magnificent in the eyes of a true equal.

“I’m right here!” she taunted, with snowflakes in her hair.

Brick landed on a cracked block. The cement began to melt under the heat of his power where he crouched and captured her in those pyre-bright eyes. “Is that an invitation?” he shot back. “Or a threat?”

Alive with the thrill of unfettered competition, Blossom grinned. “Let’s find out.”

She took off at a punishing pace, half flying around the cement blocks and half skating over their frozen faces. Brick was right on her tail, his steps scorching the swaths of ice she left in her wake to cataclysmic ends. Wherever the two Supers’ extremities came into direct contact, the concrete collapsed and exploded like a parade of supernovas.

He was close, she could feel it, but he wouldn’t catch her, no way. Blossom was the best at what she did, and no one knew that better than her counterpart. But he was fast closing the distance between them, and when she chanced a glance back, there he was haloed in haze, his fire rising like great, golden chains, and he reached for her.

Blossom gasped, and it was her mistake. Brick caught her waist and pulled her back hard. The blizzard in her lungs went up in steam between his fingers clamped over her mouth. They hurtled together head over heels with Blossom kicking and jabbing with her elbows. But Brick locked her arms to her sides and anchored her to his chest until they came to a stop and she could hardly move. Pink power crackled on her skin as she thrashed in his arms, but he only laughed.

“That tickles,” he murmured.

Blossom immediately ceased her struggling. Immured in his arms with no chance of escaping unless he let her go, she became acutely aware of just how close they were. His breath was warm in her hair, and he smelled like smoke and parchment. He hadn’t loosened his hold around her at all.

“Brick,” she said, sotto voce.

He laughed again, low and husky. “Yield.”

The very word inspired an electric disdain in her. “No.”

He pressed his nose to her hair, and when he spoke his lips brushed against the side of her neck. “Are you sure?”

Blossom turned her head to look him in the eye and held on to her nerve out of sheer force of will. “Are you?”

This close, she could count his freckles and taste the heat he radiated, but there was no reading him beyond his singular and absolute focus on her.

He loosened his grip around her and pulled away. “No,” he said.

Blossom caught him before he could move away. Thoughtless perhaps, but Blossom never stopped thinking, not about their entrapment here, not about finding a way out, and not about him since the day they arrived in this strange place. She barely tugged at his shirt before he was on her again, arms around her waist and kissing her hard. Her fingers sparked with power as she threaded them through his short hair, making him groan, and he suddenly shoved them against the freezing, concrete wall until it cracked. His kiss was volcanic, as relentless as he was, and Blossom pulled him deeper with a smile.

The wall lurched at her back, and as quickly as it had begun, Brick ended the kiss and pushed her out of the way of a wicked spike just as it erupted from the enchanted wall. Blossom landed deftly on a nearby block and watched him do the same. Breathing hard, she wiped the traces of the best kiss of her life from her lips.

“Best two out of three,” he called to her.

Unable to resist, she smirked. “Restrictions?”

“You couldn’t restrain yourself against me if you tried.”

A retort sat poised on the tip of her tongue, but it still remembered his kiss and refused to cooperate.

“Blossom,” he said in a commanding tone that wanted answering.

Blossom’s power burst around her, radioactive, and she launched herself skyward. “Try and keep up.”

They spent the next two hours raining tempestuous ruin, on the pocket dimension and on each other.

xxx

Berserk took one look at Brick and Blossom when they returned to the Red Wing later that evening in their soot- and sleet-stained clothes, set her book down, and drained the rest of her bourbon. “Oh god.”

Brick rolled his eyes headed for his room. “There better be some of that left when I get out of the shower.”

Berserk flipped him the bird, which he returned behind his back before slamming the door.

Blossom hovered like a deer caught in the headlights until Berserk took pity on her and poured a fresh glass. “Here. You look like you need this more than I do.”

Blossom snapped out of it and took the offered bourbon automatically. “What?”

Jesus Christ.

You try to be nice for once, and nobody fucking appreciates it. Typical.

“Whatever.” Berserk went back to her book and her own glass of bourbon, which she topped off with the rest of the bottle so there would be none left for Brick.

Blossom didn’t fuck off to her own room like she ought to have, but instead sat down on the red sofa across from Berserk. She was smiling like a creep. Before Berserk could ask her if she needed medical assistance with whatever the hell was going on, Blossom said, “Cheers.”

Magenta eyes narrowed over the top of her book as Berserk studied her counterpart for any hint of a scheme. When she found none, she cautiously clinked her overfull glass to Blossom’s and drank.

They sat there in silence for a while. The sound of Brick’s shower was a low din behind his closed door as Berserk slowly flipped the pages of her book, some boring shit about this planet’s agricultural practices. Blossom had picked up a book of her own and curled up, her legs tucked under her in a perfect mirror to Berserk. Every once in a while Berserk would steal a glance at her counterpart and find her quiet and content with her book and bourbon. Peaceful was not quite the right word for this weirdly tranquil ambience, and Blossom for sure needed a shower. But, well…

Well.

“Thank you.”

It was so softly spoken, that had they not been reading in complete silence, Berserk may not have heard her speak. Blossom didn’t look up to acknowledge her sitting there, or even to check that Berserk had heard her.

Berserk curled a lock of her frizzy, red hair around her finger and buried her nose in her book. “Whatever.”

Blossom hid a smile behind her book and finished her drink.

xxx

Thanks for reading! <3

#Blossick #Reds #Blossom #Brick #Berserk #Powerpuff Girls #PPG #fanfic #carriedreamerx #kiebs #February Fic Prompts #i'm liking this world and pretty excited about writing the ppnkgs!#and more reds who am i kidding #PPG Trinity House

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bakudekuficlibrary · 5 years

Note

Hey, do you have any fics where Deku calms Bakugo down from a panic attack or some sort of anger episode? Or vise versa?

I payed more attention to fics that focused solely on the requested idea or had multiple scenes of it. (and boy was there a decent amount!) If you know of longer fics that include this idea (even if it’s your own XD) feel free to reblog or reply with them so people can find them in the notes c:

-Jay

30 Works.

Dark Side of the Sun by Synnie( T | 51,597 | 20/20 )

Staying up too late playing video games, Kirishima wasn’t expecting to get an urgent call begging for help. Next thing he knew, he was letting his classmate Izuku Midoriya take refuge in his apartment - without consulting his always angry roommate.

SeriesPart 1 of Dark Side of Space

[Graphic Depictions of Violence | Past Abuse | Self-Harm]

Can We Not? by vulcanhighblood( T | 32,740+ | 17/? )

Journalist Midoriya Izuku stumbles across Ground Zero brutalizing a vending machine. Unfortunately, he can’t just walk away from a Pro Hero in dire need of caffeine. So when a hero on the brink shakes him down for coffee, only to offer a coffee date in return…? Well, he doesn’t refuse. (He does, however, get said hero’s number, and ends up spending a lot more time with him than could have been predicted based on that first encounter.)

Grief Counseling by Merrywetherweather( E | 48,279 | 19/19 )

Katsuki remembered the first time he had failed to save someone, watched helplessly in horror as an elderly man had been crushed beneath the girth of a thrown car. He had already propelled himself forward to grab a small boy when he noticed, too late, the car fly by overhead. Two other heroes had been on the scene at the time and had assured him.

There was nothing that could have been done.

Most of class 1-A had already gone through a similar experience. The only one left with a clean track record in the rescue department had been Deku.

Well, except for today.

A slowburn fic where Kacchan tries to convince Deku to take advantage of the grief counseling provided for free to heroes experiencing their first failed rescues. Lots of flirting. Healing their relationship comes first. The romantic bit where they fall helplessly and stupidly in love comes after.

[PSTD | Panic Attacks]

Dream Sweet in Sea Major by showtiime ( M | 122,562 | 22/22 )

The day of the Hero Incident ends much more horribly than anyone could’ve imagined, but only Izuku knows that. He thinks as long as he forces himself to push through it that he can get over it, but of course, that’s not how things go. His mom, friends, teachers, and even his childhood friend-turned-rival take note of his odd behavior and try to help, but he refuses to talk about what really happened. How long and how thin will Bakugou’s patience go until Izuku finally confides and accepts the help he needs?

(in this fic, Shigaraki takes more from Izuku than he should’ve, Katsuki comes with the class that day at the mall, and there are still finals to be taken. Plenty can happen in only five to six weeks.)

(playlist)

Paper Moons and Glass Stars by Soundsoftherain( M | 82,948 | 18/18 )

The last time Katsuki had seen that mess of green hair had been during the summer after their first year of middle school, a boy sculpted from the purest sunlight sadly waving goodbye as he moved away.

That had been seven years ago.

Now that mop of wild curls was straddling his lap while scantily clad in black, leaving little to the imagination. The shy boy he once knew was now the star of Paper Moon, a strip club he’d been unwillingly dragged to by his friends. But through the muffled music one thought overwhelmed the raging whirlpool of his mind.

…What the actual fuck?

SeriesPart 1 of Glass Stars

[Graphic Depictions Of Violence | Panic Attacks | Stalking]

be loved by bonnia( T | 5,403 | 1/1 )

They sit there, in the darkness of the common room, about a few centimeters between them, but miles apart. Somehow, the quiet is companionable. More than it has been in many years. Katsuki knows he’s responsible for the rift between them, and he knows even more that it can’t only be Deku who attempts to mend it.

“Hey,” he says, after a while, and Deku turns to him in question, but Katsuki refuses to look his way. “Touch me again.”

(or: the kidnapping incident leaves bakugou traumatised about being touched on the back of his neck, and midoriya decides to take matters into his own hands)

[Panic Attacks | PTSD]

2,645 Miles by mynameis152( E | 131,839 | 38/38 )

Izuku wants so badly to get to the other side of the country without his parents realizing he’s missing. He just wants to find out who he is.

Katsuki is desperate to make it to Los Angeles without being caught by the police, desperate to fix his mistakes.

Neither know what to expect, but on a roadtrip across the U.S. involving four fugitives, two oblivious runaways, a high risk crime ring, and a police taskforce, the two will discover that there’s more in store for them than what they originally thought.

SeriesPart 1 of Guide Me Home To You

[Graphic Depictions of Violence | Panic Attacks | Attempted Sexual Assault]

As One by semiautomatichearts( G | 2,508 | 1/1 )

Katsuki knows Izuku as he knows himself, as he knows the worn pages of a treasured book, the creases within his own hand.

He sees when something is wrong, and reaches across abyssal expanses, past the maw of his own pride, and he heals.

[Panic Attacks]

What’s up danger by The_Crafty_Cracker( M | 2,220 | 1/1 )

Because apparently,The fic where Deku punches a bigoted entailed asshole Alpha in the face wasn’t an appropriate title.

Poor Katsuki has his handful with his mate nearly getting arrested, again!

P.S there is also a joke about a quiche.

Super Mario Maker by Pop_Rocks (v_love)( E | 3,734 | 1/1 )

Midoriya is smart, and a nerd, meaning that when the entire class decided to take on the aspect of buying Super Mario Maker for the collection of games in the common area that he became sort of a living legend when it came to designing the levels.

Some were just joyous well designed little prank-type levels, others were difficult — but not impossible — and the rest? Well, those were impossible.

For all but one.

His Kacchan.

————

In which Bakugou rages.

SeriesPart 4 of Kacchan and Deku’s Shenanigans

Out Of Darkness by Arrival_Of_Dawn ( M | 78,364+ | 18/? )

Izuku Midoriya is legally dead for forty two minutes at the hands of a new villain, Nightmare. They are the longest forty two minutes as Izuku finds himself trapped in his own personal hell. He may have come back from nightmare induced death, but that does not mean the nightmares are gone. They haunt him at any given moment and neither he nor anyone else knows how to save him.

[Graphic Depictions Of Violence | Panic Attacks]

Twenty-Four by SharkbaitSekki( T | 15,874 | 1/1 )

Izuku gets himself kidnapped, and Katsuki is dragged into it with him as they face villains with particularly terrifying illusion Quirks.

It ends up being a living nightmare, but Katsuki can’t bring himself to regret following Izuku into it all. Because between the pain and the terror, between the lies and the illusions, between life and death, at least they can always hang onto one another. Even if everything else is fake, they know that they will always be real.

[Graphic Depictions Of Violence]

Chapter 26 of an entire month for the broccoli boy and the shouty boy by Kasplode( T | 23,200 | 30/30 )

Acute fear pollutes his body, concentration increasing exponentially with each shallow inhale he breathes.

Deku, standing just in front of him, knocks at the familiar door to Midoriya Inko’s apartment.

They’re having dinner with her tonight. Introducing Katsuki as Deku’s boyfriend.

[Panic Attacks]

Someone to Stay by Maru_Chan( M | 5,462 | 1/1 )

He hears Izuku’s jeering laughter again and even when he can’t see him any longer, his last words ring loud on Katsuki’s ears, heavy and final like a sentence.

“Goodbye Kacchan, maybe you can try again in your next life”

And then everything is dark again.

It’s dark, he’s cold, he’s numb and he’s alone.

And it’s everything he deserves.

[Panic Attacks | PTSD]

saltwater fears & saltwater tears by writedeku( T | 4,540 | 1/1 )

It’s not that Katsuki hasn’t hurt people before, but this is the first time he’s seen something so irrevocable. So tangible. Izuku will look back, ten, twenty years from now, and he’d still see the scar in the mirror, and still be a scared little boy in pain all over again, crying in the hallways.

(The middle is a time that makes Katsuki feel proud and ashamed, all at once.)

SeriesPart 3 of the saltwater saga

[Bullying | Past Abuse | Panic Attacks]

What’s Mine But Only You Can Have? by masteremeraldholder

( T | 9,480 | 1/1 )

“What’s mine… but only you can have?”

Deku’s face softens, his eyes wide, mouth a little ‘o’. Baku’s stomach turns, maybe he shouldn’t have said it, maybe he should��ve listened to the quirk-stealers and kept his fucking mouth shut, but he knows that he couldn’t have even if he tried.

He’ll never get tired of Deku and his annoying antics, his patient nature, his shit ton of freckles, and if that’s what it means to love someone, then he’s gladly in it with Deku.

SeriesPart 2 of Schizophrenic Bakugou

[Panic Attacks | Self-Harm | Ableism]

Words to Never Say by InkspillsNotebook( T | 2,586 | 1/1 )

Regardless of how much time has passed, Izuku is still unable to hear those words without fearing that he’s lost the most important person in his life.

SeriesPart 7 of Drabble Expansion Pack

[Panic Attacks]

[Abandoned] Chapter 4 of Angry Kids by MrJokerBoy( T | 9,251 | 12/? )

Deku has a nervous breakdown and here comes Kacchan to the rescue

[Panic Attacks]

Chapter 1 of Things You Said: Bakugou/Midoriya by AutisticWriter( T | 3,100 | 2/2 )

A collection of one shots written for a prompt list.

[Self-Harm | Ableism | Transphobia]

{Curator’s Note: This chapter depicts Bakugou assisting Midoriya through a meltdown, not an anger episode or panic attack.}

A Classical Storm by oceanswrath( T | 1,400 | 1/1 )

In that moment only the two of them existed, a force to be reckoned with greater than the storm raging outside.

[Panic Attacks]

The Bonds that bind by EloFromMars( E | 2,818 | 1/1 )

Izuku is excited, tonight is their anniversary. He had planned everything. Or so he thought.

[PTSD | Panic Attacks]

Only Us by yoichipines( T | 3,105 | 1/1 )

“What if it’s you, and what if it’s me and what if that’s all that we needed to be and the rest of the world falls away…what do you say?”

A Katsudeku fanfic very much inspired by ‘Only Us’ by Laura Dreyfuss and Ben Platt? Sign me tf up!

[Panic Attacks]

No Matter What by Empress Explosion Murder (LdyFcknNoir)( M | 4,393 | 1/1 )

BNHA Angst Week Day Seven: Roses/Time

-or-

“I-I’ve failed you… He escaped.” Katsuki rasped out.

Any remaining strength in Izuku’s body fled, and he melted to the ground on legs that were no longer able to hold him up. His body began to tremble violently, his teeth cracking together with the force of his shaking. Black edged around his vision as he couldn’t pull any oxygen into his lungs, air rent from his lungs completely with just five words.

SeriesPart 7 of BNHA Angst Week

[Past Rape/Non-con | Panic Attacks]

Yeah I’ve Got Issues by Abitginger( T | 2,782 | 1/1 )

One-shot written for BakuDeku month of wonder, day 2:festival/apology. A little late but such is life ~

Izuku and Katsuki go on an undercover mission at a festival.

[Panic Attacks]

to be made of flesh and steel by bluntforcedrama, gutsdumpster( T | 635 | 1/1 )

Bakugou learns his triggers, his tics. He’s kind of psychic actually since he tends to know when something is about to happen. Or maybe it’s Izuku’s fault for making it so glaringly obvious: he gets nervous, hands twitching more than usual as his eyes follow any sudden movement around him. Sometimes his breathing becomes labored and he swallows down more inhales than exhales and Bakugou will have to thread his fingers with Izuku’s, as if to say calm down, I’m here.

Or: Izuku is an ex-soldier struggling with the mental and physical repercussions of such heavy combat, and although Bakugou doesn’t know exactly what it’s like, he’ll still do everything he can to help.

[Panic Attacks | PTSD | Implied/Referenced Homophobia]

I know you wanna (slip under my armor) by Herbalmint( T | 3,528 | 1/1 )

Life just keeps developing new ways of beating Bakugo down. (Katsuki has a panic attack)

[Panic Attacks | Dissociation]

In Your Arms by EmbretheWorld( T | 3,771 | 2/2 )

Bakugo’s freaking out, and no one really knows what to do, but Yagi and Aizawa are really grateful that Midoriya is there. And Aizawa is really good at comforting people too.

SeriesPart 3 of You Melt My Heart

[Panic Attacks]

Chapter 2 & Chapter 7 of Standing Together (Pride Month) by EmbretheWorld( M | 17,972 | 29/29 )

This book will be filled with multiple ships that I will write and post on a daily for Pride Month. Each chapter will be based on a prompt. Hope you enjoy!

I ended this book early because I couldn’t find any motivation to write in it anymore.

SeriesPart 6 of You Melt My Heart

[Panic Attacks]

Anxiety by MistyBlueJay( T | 3,530 | 1/1 )

Izuku and Katsuki go to the mall, the Bakusquad joins them in a mini shopping trip. It’s a crowded day and Izuku falls behind, panic ensues.

[Panic Attacks]

In Weakness there is Strength by DarcyIncarnate( Not Rated | 3,011 | 1/1 )

Five times Izuku breaks and Katsuki picks up the peices, and one time Katsuki isn’t there to help.

[Panic Attacks]

610 notes · View notes

penzyroamin · 4 years

Note

Hi I know it’s been a bit but I’m the confused bi anon. I really really appreciated your response and it wasn’t too long. You made me feel a lot better. I was wondering if you could maybe suggest some books, tv, movies with bi female characters. Thanks soo much for the entire last response . You are absolutely incredible and so sweet. This means more to me than you could ever know❤️

of course!! i’m glad that my first response helped <3

disclaimer of course: i’m not bi! so i’m not an Authoritative Source on bi rep and what people want to see more of. i do actively seek out stuff about lgbtq+ characters, specifically girls and women, so i have some recs! however, i’ll also be adding some things that some bi folks i know have recommended because while lesbians and bi women have a lot in common, these are at the end of the day representing them, not me :)

extra-super favorites will be bolded! i’m putting this under a read more because... i read a lot of books. and recommended a lot of them.

books:

her royal highness by rachel hawkins-- this book is a pretty easy read-- don’t expect any massive revelations about life from it, and you’ll have a good time!!! essentially, a bi texan girl named millie, after having her heart broken by her friend-turned-sort-of-gf, goes to boarding school in scotland and ends up rooming with the princess, flora. if this sounds outrageous and sappy, that’s because it is! and i love it! sexuality isn’t a BIG part of this book, but it’s discussed, and it’s just a generally fun enemies-to-lovers story about a bi aspiring geologist and a no-fucks-to-give lesbian princess and them falling in love!

fried green tomatoes at the whistle stop cafe by fannie flagg-- hello this is actually my favorite book! unlike hrh it is... a LOT to read. it essentially follows 2 stories-- one about a housewife named evelyn and her friendship with an old woman named ninny threadgoode who she meets at the old folks home her mother-in-law stays at, and the other about the stories ninny tells her about her sister-in-law idgie and her partner, ruth. the book was published in 1987, and ruth and idgie’s story is set during the great depression, so they aren’t actively labeled as lesbian or bi, but it’s made obvious enough through coding and the fact that ruth has relationships with men prior to idgie while idgie spends her entire childhood pining after ruth. both storylines are fantastic-- they have a lot to say about the lives of southern women in the 30s and 80s, and about race relations at both periods. i’ll warn you that there are depictions of extreme racism and of abuse, but it handles both delicately. it’s a critical piece of southern literature, and a landmark for lgbtq+ storytelling. as a bonus, my copy has a bunch of great recipes in the back, so if you read it you might chance upon an edition with those in it. if you like poignant period pieces about wlw relationships, women losing their damn minds, and abusive men getting what they deserve, this is the book for you! you will sob. this is a fair warning.

you should see me in a crown by leah johnson-- i haven’t personally read this one, but i’ve heard great things about it from everyone i know who has! an anxious black bi girl in indiana has to win prom queen at her mostly-white school in order to get enough scholarship money to go to the college of her dreams, but ends up falling for mack, another girl running for queen.

@landlessbud wanted me to shout out red, white, and royal blue by casey mcquinston-- you’ve almost definitely heard about it before (first son and prince of wales, enemies-to-lovers with a side dish of political drama), and it is primarily about a mlm romance, but nora is a fabulously fun bi girl side character and there’s a lot of great stuff about figuring out your sexuality in it.

leah on the offbeat by becky albertalli-- i’ve read a lot of complex thoughts on this book, and mine are... i like it! it’s flawed, sure, and i wish it had handled a few things a little better, but you know what? it’s cute as fuck! leah is a fat bi drummer, and she’s super cool! abby is a great love interest, and she goes through a whole bi realization throughout the book. all in all, it’s just a fun wlw high school romcom with a couple solid dramatic beats and a lot of goofball shenanigans. also, if you were an american girl kid??? one scene in this book will make the entire experience worth it for you.

harley quinn: breaking glass by mariko tamaki and steve pugh-- hey, we’re in graphic novel territory now! this book is RAD. a really neat look at gentrification, community solidarity, giving people what they deserve, and fantastic lgbtq+ found families. teenage harleen quinzel is taken in by a group of drag queens, and is caught between two sort-of love interests-- mysterious vigilante the joker and classmate and community activist ivy-- and the different forms of protest and resistance they represent. the art here is STUNNING, and it’s a great read!

laura dean keeps breaking up with me, by the great mariko tamaki with art by rosemary valero-o’connell-- the vast majority of the characters are lgbt, with a lesbian main character, and the supporting cast including a bi nonbinary character, a bi girl character, and two mlm characters! this is mostly a piece about modern lgbtq+ teenagers and the way toxic relationships take over our lives. it’s one of the most cathartic things i’ve read in a LONG time, and especially if you’re at a point where your sexuality feels kind of vague, this is a great read because it embraces that vagueness by not needing to clearly label the characters and celebrates whatever point of clarity the characters are at. probably some of the most gorgeous art i’ve ever seen in a book, with a beautiful black-white-and-pink color scheme and a really neat approach to visual storytelling.

movies:

i don’t watch many movies, because i get bored really quickly hskdhskhds. but the movies i DO watch are usually gay!

wowie zowie its fried green tomatoes again!-- fannie flagg came back to adapt this into a film and HOT DAMN is it just as good. the plot is primarily the same, with some stuff obviously cut or trimmed to make it a two hour movie instead of a 450 page books fhsjdhsjhds. mary-louise parker plays ruth!!! it got a GLAAD award and an oscar nomination, and god it’s good. there are a couple scenes in here that i think are going to be in my mind until the day i die. the level of pure butch energy that idgie radiates in this film is a one-hit k.o. and it KILLS me.

birds of prey-- listen. this is not a profound movie. harley’s bisexuality isn’t emphasized, and romance is basically nonexistent in this movie. there is some... quite graphic violence. that said, this movie is so fucking fun. it’s mostly just a bunch of women fucking up everyone who crosses them while margot robbie gives a gleeful performance that you can just TELL she enjoyed the fuck out of. the last 20-30 minutes of this movie are the absolute best part, with a long sequence that kind of reinvented what an action/superhero movie could be for me. again, bisexuality isn’t a massive part of this-- it’s mentioned, and then harley just continues on in her gloriously campy outfits and breaks peoples’ knees. again, i CANNOT overemphasize just how fucking good the last 20-30 minutes are. this movie knows what it is and it embraces it. also, women beating people up in costumes that don’t horrifyingly objectify them is always a plus!

imagine me & you-- i’d be remiss if i didn’t mention this one, considering it’s probably one of the most iconic wlw romcoms. a woman named rachel, while at her own wedding, meets a florist named luce, and they fall in love. it’s a very sweet look at questioning your sexuality when you were already secure in it, and rachel’s husband wins “most genuinely understanding guy in a wlw movie” award. it has a lovely happy ending, and articles have been written about the importance of rachel being a bi character who a) gets a happy ending and b) isn’t shamed for figuring out her sexuality later on or slutshamed. this is just... a sweet movie. it’s the romcom a lot of us need in our lives. also, a LOT of floral imagery.

tv shows:

ok, i’ve got a confession. i reaaaaaaally don’t watch much tv. seriously, the only shows i’ve watched a substantial amount of recently have been parks and rec, schitt’s creek, the good place, and gilmore girls. i have a really REALLY short attention span.

that said, eleanor from the good place is bisexual!! the good place is a really wild ride, it’s half afterlife comedy half philosophical musing, and it will almost certainly make you gasp, laugh, think, and also probably cry. also, eleanor is just buckets of fun and she, like many of us, is often blown away by tahani (jameela jamil) and her beauty.

ummm shows i haven’t watched entirely or at all but that have bi women in them and seem pretty good: black lightning, sex education, jane the virgin, arrow.

if you haven’t already watched it, do not believe what people are going to tell you about watching glee. it will drag you into a pit of despair and white men rapping, and it’s quite biphobic to top it all off.

i hope you enjoy at least some of these!! i tried to include some of my own favs and some that were pointed out to me, so i hope that at least a couple connect with you and make you feel better. again, the bolded ones are my 100% favorites. i love you and i’m glad you reached out again!!! feel free to send some more asks later on <3

#asks #anon #bi anon #ily <3 <3 i hope these help #if anyone wants to add please do!! specifically bi women of color since theres a shortage of them in fiction and media #dont talk abt b/9/9 though id like to not praise diversity in a show glorifying cops

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eilonwiiy · 4 years

Text

Bookends ; A Witchlands AU

Chapter 9

An innocent trip to the library takes an unexpected turn.

Summary: Iseult det Midenzi never expected to go to a top university, so when her mother falls ill and she is forced to drop out to make ends meet, life has never seemed so unfair. But when she starts working at the local library and is unexpectedly assigned in the Children’s Room, a certain monosyllabic man and his thrice-damned demon child start showing up and Iseult begins to wonder if the threads of fate have a plan for her after all.

Previous chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8

Ships: Iseult/Aeduan, Safi/Merik, and more… stay tuned!

Tags: modern AU, college setting, family, friendship, humor, fluff, slow-burn, romance, eventual smut

Read on AO3: here

Tag list: (please let me know if you’d like to be added!) @lseultdetmidenzi @twilightlegacy13

* . * . * . * .

When Iseult woke up the next morning, she thought maybe she had dreamed the previous night. But no. Aeduan had texted her. Twice. First, with an all too unsatisfying Ok while she was still at work. Then, again a whole hour later as she was getting ready for bed telling her that he’d be coming to the library tomorrow. Which was now today. The gap between texts - the “lost hour” as Iseult was now referring to it - was doing an exemplary job of keeping her busy. She thought about it all through her shower. While brushing her teeth. There was a brief pause while she picked out an outfit (sweater, suede skirt, ballet flats), but then it was right back to obsessing over those missing 60 minutes.

What had happened to cause Aeduan to go from monosyllabic man to someone with a firm grasp of the English language? Had it been a full moon?

The ruckus of the usual morning hustle and bustle could be heard from Jitters as Iseult descended the stairs, coat already on and a messenger bag slung over her shoulder. When she brushed through the divider curtain, the sight that met her brought her to a full stop.

“Wow. Someone woke up in project mode,” she said, taking in Safi - awake and fully dressed on her morning off - and the stacks of books and magazines spread across multiple tables pushed together.

“Yes,” Safi agreed, looking proud. “I thought I’d finally try turning that weird corner no one likes to sit in into that book nook we’ve always talked about.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

Iseult stared at Safi, expression flat.

“Safi?”

“Hm?” she replied, flipping breezily through a page in her magazine.

“What are you doing?”

Safi didn’t look up. “I told you. I’m making the book nook.”

“Yeah, I heard you the first time. But see, it’s 8:30 in the morning.”

“And?”

“And,” Iseult continued, slowly approaching her mini fortress of books, “there’s a perfectly useful bed upstairs wondering where you are.”

“Well, tell it it might get lucky and see me tonight.”

“Safi,” Iseult said bluntly.

“Yeah?”

“What are you doing? And if you say ‘book nook’ one more time I’ll kill you.”

Safi said nothing.

“Spill,” Iseult ordered.

Safi sighed and made a face. “Is it so hard to believe that I actually wanted to do a good thing and get moving on this project that you’ve been talking my ear off about for months?”

“It is when it’s 8:30 on your morning off.” Iseult eyed the nearly full mug of coffee on the table. “Is that your first cup of coffee?”

“Maybe.” Safi’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Why?”

“Nothing. Just a concerned citizen, that’s all.” Iseult pulled up a chair and lowered herself onto the seat, clapping her hands on her knees. “Look, as tempting as the prospect of playing 20 Questions with you this early in the morning without caffeine in my system is, can we maybe skip to the end of this conversation where you tell me the truth about why you’re really up so I’m not late for work?”

Safi pursed her lips like she didn’t want to talk. Then, she grabbed a massive tome off the top of one of the piles and held it up in the air.

“I tripped over this.”

“Ok…” Iseult said slowly, eyeing the book. “Are you okay?”

“Physically, yes. Spiritually? That remains to be seen.”

Iseult sighed. “Safi, did you miss the part where I said I don’t want to be late for work?”

Safi let the book drop from her hand with an obnoxious thud that shook the table.

“As you know, I worked until close at The Cleaved Man last night. When I got home at 1 o’clock, per usual, I tripped and fell over this,” she said, giving the offending book a scathing look.

The smallest of frowns formed on Iseult’s otherwise smooth face. “How is that even possible? That’s my freshmen geology textbook. I’m not exactly reading up on pyrite in my spare time.”

“Oh, well, I knocked into the bookshelf while I was fumbling through the dark trying to find the light switch.”

“So really you tripped over the bookshelf.”

Safi gawped at Iseult. “You’re not taking this seriously.”

“I would if I knew what the heck this has to do with you waking up and deciding today’s the day you’re going to be a carpenter!”

“That apartment is too small!” Safi burst, gesticulating wildly to the ceiling above.

“Safi,” shushed Iseult, glancing around at the early bird customers who were now looking curiously at them.

“No! That place is too small and I’m so tired of barely having enough room to breathe let alone walk through the door without having to map out some sort of detour route to avoid collision!” She shook her head. “The books had to go!”

Iseult grabbed for Safi’s hand before she could point a rude gesture at the ceiling and covered it with her own. “Look I know we got our hopes up for the apartment,” Iseult said, careful to leave out Chiseled Cheater’s name or supervillain moniker, “but you need to let this go.”

“I don’t want to,” pouted Safi, pronouncing each word defiantly.

“I know. But you’re driving yourself crazy and me by extension.” She paused. “Our shoebox does have its perks.”

“Like?” The word dripped with incredulity.

“Like,” Iseult ventured, “we don’t have to walk far to get to work. We can even open the bakery in our pajamas.”

Safi’s face remained unchanging. Iseult went on.

“We don’t have to deal with some seedy landlord.”

Nothing.

“Late snacks are a flight of stairs away.”

Still nothing.

“And there’s always an endless supply of free coffee on hand.”

“Except for that time we forgot to place the order and we went a whole three days having to tell customers we didn’t have coffee,” Safi pointed out.

Iseult shuddered from the memory. “I thought Mathew and Habim were going to kick us out.”

“Maybe they’d have done us a favor if they had,” Safi muttered.

Iseult made a face at her and, for a moment, they held each other’s gaze. Then, finally, she folded.

“I’m sorry,” Safi moaned, flopping back in her chair and looking at the stacks of books dejectedly. “It just kills me that he’s living in our dream apartment while we’re stuck smelling like coffee for the rest of our lives.”

“It won’t be for the rest of our lives. And besides,” Iseult added as an afterthought, “think of how much money we save living here. I doubt I would have been able to afford that place now anyway.”

From the way Safi immediately sobered, Iseult knew she had driven the point home. After all, it wasn’t Safi who couldn’t afford to live wherever she wanted. She could leave their shoebox apartment anytime she wanted. But she stayed for Iseult.

Iseult fiddled with her hands and dropped her gaze, not wanting to look at the somber expression on Safi’s face. She almost looked ashamed.

“I’m sorry,” Safi apologized again. She waved to the piles of books. “Obviously, I lost my mind.”

“Does this mean you’re not going to build the book nook?”

Safi’s expression stiffened and Iseult saw a flicker of hesitation in her eyes.

“No, I’m going to do it,” she eventually said, sounding resigned to the prospect, but determined. “You’ve been bugging me about it long enough.”

“You said you liked the idea!”

“Yeah, but that was before I ordered those damned bookshelves,” argued Safi, nodding to the back office. “Honestly, those assembly instructions are in a different language. How can they expect the average person to put them together without a contractor?”

“Or an interpreter.”

“Exactly. It’s all a bunch of gibberish made to con you into hiring a professional to assemble it for you. It’s a money making scam.”

They sat in silence for a moment, Safi stewing. Iseult side-eyed Safi. She didn’t want to break the happy truce they had just struck, but...

“You know who would be great at putting together those shelves?” she asked. “The C-word.”

Safi gave a most unlady-like snort of disbelief. “Cam can barely hold an entire tray of cookies without toppling over let alone a plank of wood.”

“I’m not talking about Cam and you know it.”

Safi shot her a piercing look. “I am not calling Caden.” She paused. “I’ll call Leopold.”

“For what?” Iseult laughed. “Moral support?”

“Hey, your boyfriend’s more handy than you think.”

Iseult’s stomach flipped. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

Safi rolled her eyes in exasperation. “You’re right. He’s not, but he could be! If you would stop avoiding him.”

Iseult’s stomach vaulted again, but this time for an entirely different reason. “Did he say that?” she asked, not sure if she wanted to know the answer.

“That you’re avoiding him? No, but I can tell by the way he asks about you.” Safi studied Iseult for a moment. “Do you like him?”

“I…” Iseult didn't know what to say. She didn’t know what she felt. While she had spent a good deal of time telling herself that Leopold’s flirtatious advances towards her were a figment of her imagination - I mean, look at the guy. He basically waltzed right out of a Disney movie - she knew in her gut that they were real. She’d be lying if she said she hadn’t thought about what it would be like to date him. To kiss him. Would she burst into a puff of smoke when his lips touched hers and reappear a beautiful princess? It all seemed so ridiculous to her. They were like night and day. But even so, there was no denying that they shared a bond. She trusted him. With him, she felt safe.

With that thought in mind, she ended lamely, “I don’t know.”

Safi nodded, eyes soft and understanding. “That’s fair… Maybe seeing him tonight will help,” she said encouragingly.

Right. Tonight. Vaness’ little shindig. Iseult hadn’t exactly been crossing off the days on her calendar in anticipation.

Safi’s face went serious again. She hesitated. “Hey, so Alma called while you were in the shower.”

Shit. “She did?” Iseult asked, trying to keep her voice light. It wasn’t like this was the third time Alma had called this week and she hadn’t gotten back to her or anything.

“Yeah. I picked up…” said Safi, sounding apologetic. “I figured it could be about something important.”

“I’m assuming if you’re just telling me now that it wasn’t?”

Safi shook her head. “No. Just asked if you could call her back.”

“Ok… Thanks. I will.” Iseult swallowed the lie and let her eyes wander to the mess around them. “I take it this means you’re not reading the book for the book club?” She picked up a copy of Sisters of Sight from the top of one of the nearby stacks.

“No,” Safi was quick to say, snatching the book away from Iseult and holding it to her chest possessively. “I added that to the pile by mistake.”

“Of course,” Iseult said without much confidence. Sierra, one of the baristas working the morning shift, came over and offered a steaming to-go cup of coffee and a paper bag that, judging by the heavenly smell, was her favorite cinnamon crunch bagel.

“Such service” she commended, taking them from Sierra and thanking her.

“This place ain’t half-bad,” Safi chimed in, watching with approval.

“Not half-bad at all,” Iseult agreed, then took a sip of her coffee. She made a face as she swallowed. “Well, the coffee definitely falls into the half-bad category. Real Marstoki coffee my you-know-what,” she grumbled under her breath.

“You can say ‘ass’ in front of me,” Safi goaded, smirking. “I won’t tell anyone.”

Iseult shook her head and stood up from her chair. She was officially running late now. “Well, thank you for an eventful morning. Your neuroses never fail to entertain. I’m only working a half-shift, so I’ll be back this afternoon. Try to be nice to Cam before I get here,” she added with what she hoped was a convincingly stern look.

“Remind me again why we hired him?” Safi asked, crossing her arms and leaning back in her chair.

“Because we’re all about helping the little guy,” answered Iseult as she wrapped her scarf around her neck.

“I didn’t realize we meant that literally.”

“You know what I mean.”

“You broke our no high schoolers policy. I hate high schoolers.”

“Cam’s different.”

“He has no work experience.”

“Everyone has to get their start somewhere. We didn’t exactly have much work experience when Mathew and Habim hired us. Besides,” Iseult added, looking around and gesturing to the cafe, “this isn’t exactly a high-stakes operation. I think Cam can handle pouring coffee. Just be patient. Not everyone learns at the same pace.” She tugged on her beret cap and picked up her coffee and bagel. “Well, I can’t wait to see you and the book nook when I get back.”

Safi’s face tightened and her smile froze in place. “Me too,” she said as one of the book piles toppled over. “Me too…”

* . * . * . * .

Aeduan was not having a good morning.

The news that they would be making a trip to the library that day was not received with warm reception from the four-year-old. At first, Owl just frowned, not understanding why they were going if they weren’t going to see Evrane. The concept of the library existing even when they weren’t there was a shock to Owl - an unpleasant one judging by the horrified look on her face - and Aeduan did his best to explain that the library was open to more than just the two of them, and that they were welcome to visit any time they wished, even when they weren’t meeting with Evrane. He thought this would clear up the matter and put to rest Owl’s apparently very serious concerns about the library. He was so incredibly wrong.

Owl had been possessed by the devil - Aeduan was sure of it.

The nightmare started with her bath. Aeduan could have skipped his shower if he had known how wet Owl would get him with all her thrashing, suddenly violently adverse to water. By the end of it, there was more water on him than in the tub. He’d had to change - but only after he managed to wrangle Owl into her own clothes (another Olympic feat). At breakfast, she threw her Cheerios on the floor and the moment Aeduan finished picking up every last O, she spilled her orange juice. By the time they left the house, Aeduan was so preoccupied with Owl squirming in his arms, he didn’t notice Blueberry sauntering across the porch and he tripped over the damned thing, sending himself - and Owl - toppling into a snow pile. She’d started sobbing then. Not for herself or for Aeduan, whose hip was throbbing in pain. No, no, no. She was upset that he may have hurt the cat. It took 20 minutes for him to assure her that Blueberry was ok, another 20 minutes searching for the little cretin when it became clear she needed physical proof of the fact (he was hiding under the porch wedged behind the recycling bin), and by the time her sobs had turned into sniffles, he was so discombobulated that he didn’t even bother to go back inside and change out of his now soaking wet pants. Again. He was too worried he’d never get Owl out of the house again if he did. He wasn’t taking any chances. He skipped the car altogether, even though it had just snowed and the sidewalks probably weren’t all cleared yet. Barring performing an exorcism, getting Owl to sit still long enough for him to fasten her into her carseat seemed inconceivable and - with his ears still ringing with her last screaming meltdown - he wasn’t looking for an encore.

Owl was deathly quiet by the time they reached the library. Maybe she had run out of tears. Aeduan certainly hoped so. He wasn’t sure what he’d do if Owl fell apart while they were inside the building. Possibly breakdown and cry himself. Evrane would love that.

Shit. Evrane. In all the chaos, Aeduan hadn’t even thought about what he’d say if they happened to run into her. He hastily ran through some quick excuses in his head while he crossed the library’s main hall, eyes darting around the open space for a splash of white hair and listening for the tell-tale sound of clattering of silver… which was precisely the moment he ran into Iseult. Or rather, Iseult’s book cart.

The cart went toppling over, taking Iseult along with it, and crashed to the floor with a bone-rattling BOOM. The sound echoed unforgivingly through the voluminous hall. Aeduan stared at Iseult sprawled out on the floor covered in books, stunned, then snapped into action.

“Are you alright?” he asked, hastily depositing Owl on the ground and kneeling down beside Iseult. She looked shocked, eyes frozen wide, like she didn’t know how she had ended up on the floor. He hastily began pulling books off her.

“You should be more careful,” Aeduan admonished gruffly. He gathered and stacked the fly-away books into a pile off to the side while Iseult just sat there, silent. Annoyed, he opened his mouth again when he picked up a tattered volume off her leg.

His movement stuttered and his eyes locked on a jagged rip in her tights. The pale skin shone like a tear in the night sky. He swallowed thickly and he tore his eyes away.

“Someone could have gotten hurt.” He got up, leaving Iseult on the floor, and walked over the fallen cart. He pulled it upright, the wood groaning with the motion. He braced his hands on either end and gave it a firm jostle. It seemed sturdy enough, despite its obvious wear. Satisfied that it was safe, he started transferring the books back on its shelves.

A strange sort of hiccup from behind him caused Aeduan’s head to snap up. He’d had enough tears that morning. This whole day could fuck off into the void if Iseult was going to start crying too. He jerked around, not sure what he would do if he saw a single tear on her face, then stared.

Iseult was laughing. He’d never heard her laugh. Or truly seen her smile. It transformed her whole face that was always so emotionless. Even as confusion shot through him, he couldn’t help but appreciate the sight.

He offered a hand to her.

“Are you alright?” The question came out more reserved this time. Less like an accusation.

Iseult nodded, her soft laughter fading to nothing, and accepted his help. Her hand was cold against his. She let go when she was back on her feet and offered him a small smile in appreciation.

Aeduan pointed to the tear at her knee, if only to distract himself from the feeling she’d left in his empty hand. “That looks like it hurts.”

Iseult ducked her head and gave her leg a quick once-over. Aeduan found himself looking too, but when his gaze began to roam to other places, he quickly looked away.

“N-no, it’s fine,” Iseult stammered. “I’m just out a pair of tights.”

Aeduan frowned, not sure what to say to that. Iseult bit the inside of her cheek and shrugged. “I-I have a hundred pairs, so it’s f-fine.”

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Aeduan asked for a third time. The tremble in her voice was making him uneasy.

“Mhmm,” was all she responded with, nodding her head. She fidgeted with the cuffs of her sweater. “I’m sorry I almost ran you two over.”

Two? Oh, right! Owl.

Aeduan looked down at Owl next to him. The look she was giving them was downright murderous, if that was possible. Owl had proven on more than one occasion that she was capable of extraordinary things - even if she was only four.

“You didn’t,” Aeduan replied, looking away from her and back at Iseult. “I should have been paying attention. I’m sorry.” He didn’t know where the words were coming from, but they were out of his mouth before he could give them any thought. They seemed to be the right thing to say, though, because Iseult’s face relaxed and he thought he caught a faint smile.

“I’m glad you’re here,” she said, looking up at him shyly.

Aeduan swallowed, heart stuck in his throat. “You…. are?”

“Mmm,” Iseult confirmed. She wet her lips, the pink tip of her tongue darting out and capturing Aeduan’s attention fully and wholly. “I was just about to drop these off and get my things to go. I have your book. One of the other librarians would have been able to get it for you, but…” She trailed off, ducking her head and looking down at her feet.

But, what? Aeduan thought frantically. He’d never felt more desperate for someone to finish a sentence.

Instead, she abruptly announced: “I’ll go get it now,” then pivoted on her heel and glided away from him. He watched her go, eyes carefully trained on the manner of her gait. If she was hurting, she hid it well. Every stride of her legs was poised and measured, much like her personality. However, when she was about ten feet away from him she paused and turned around. Aeduan noticed how she hesitated when she saw him watching her, but, subtly, she squared her shoulders, and proceeded to make the short trek back to where him and Owl stood by the book cart.

Oh. The book cart.

Aeduan made no comment when Iseult reached them nor did she. She simply rotated the cart on its wheels and ushered it away. The rickety contraception left a trail of unwelcomed noise, earning her several annoyed looks from nearby patrons. As if it was Iseult’s fault that that ancient piece of craftsmanship made such an infernal racket.

Aeduan glared at them.

It didn’t take Iseult long to return. When she appeared, she was buttoned up in a coat and wore an old-timey looking beret on her head. On anyone else it probably would have looked childish, but on her it was cute. Aeduan shrugged the observation off by focusing on the book in her hand.

“I hope you don’t mind that I looked up your account to check it out,” she said as she handed Elmer and the Dragon to him. A boy in a red and white striped shirt and blue cap playing a flute to a circle of yellow birds looked up at him from the cover. “We’re not supposed to do that without the patron present, but... well... I figured you’d probably want to get in and get out.”

Aeduan looked up with the faintest of frowns. “Why do you say that?”

Iseult blinked, and though nothing else moved out of place on her face, Aeduan could tell she was surprised. “Well,” she said slowly, “whenever you come in you always seem like… like you don’t want to be here.”

Aeduan tensed. That wasn’t true. Maybe it had been before, but now… now he wasn’t so sure.

He assessed the facts. Today was Friday. He’d defied all logic and come in on a day he wasn’t obligated to. He’d triggered the second coming of Judas just to be here by facing off with an irritable 4-year-old and a demonic cat. He’d even risked Evrane’s unsolicited judgement. All that he had done to pick up Owl’s book. To make Owl happy. The wet jeans frozen to his ass were proof of that.

“I wanted to be here today,” he said, tucking the book under his arm. The truth of that statement almost distracted him from the pink blush that rose on the apples of Iseult’s cheeks. Almost.

She cast her gaze down to her hands and busied herself with pulling on her gloves. “I have to go to my next job.” Her voice was muffled somewhat by the thick scarf wrapped so high around her neck it obscured some of her chin.

“The coffee shop?”

“The coffee shop.” She let her hand fall to her sides - gloves secured - and with nothing left to keep her occupied, she looked at him.

“Well...” she began. The suggestion of her departure was obvious in her tone, but Aeduan interrupted her.

“We were planning on heading there after. After coming here.”

“You were going to go to Jitters?” Iseult’s eyebrow actually bounced and Aeduan relished the satisfaction of getting a reaction out of her. It was becoming something of a game between them - though, he wasn’t sure she was aware she was a player.

“Yeah. It’s what we do on Fridays.”

Iseult peered from Aeduan to Owl. Unconvinced maybe. “You go to Jitters every Friday?”

“Well,” Aeduan backtracked, feeling his insides freeze up a bit, “we have been for the last month. It’s… a new tradition.”

He hoped that didn’t sound weird. Iseult was still staring at him with that blank stare of hers, her eyebrows having recovered from their brief surprise. It was all so maddening. He never knew what she was going to say. It made everything he said all the more nerve wracking… and exciting.

He realized something then, something that made the corner of his mouth curl up. Just like that, he wasn’t afraid of what to say next.

“Shall we?”

* . * . * . * .

Iseult was getting coffee with Aeduan.

Scratch that. Iseult was getting coffee for Aeduan. Or at least, she would be once they got to Jitters.

They were walking. Outside, Aeduan had apologized and muttered something about not being able to use the car in the morning. He did that a lot. Mutter. But Iseult didn’t mind. Especially when there was an apology buried in there - which, there had been that day. Twice. That wasn’t so bad either. (Not that she was keeping track, of course.)

The sidewalks were icy, and several times, Iseult nearly slipped. Each time she noticed the way Aeduan’s hand shot out to grab her out of the corner of her eye - but only just. He never quite made it to touching her. His hand would hover in the air - she could practically feel it - waiting for her to recover, and after, it would fall back to his side, wrist rolling.

The three of them walked side by side, Aeduan in between Iseult and Owl. There was no way of knowing for sure, but Iseult suspected that he had put himself in the middle to act as some sort of buffer. The contempt radiating off of Owl back at the library hadn’t gone unnoticed by Iseult. She could have imagined it, but she thought she even saw a smidgen of smugness on the child’s face after she had fallen. While Iseult admired Aeduan for fighting for custody of the child, there was no ignoring it: Owl was strange.

Aeduan held on tight to Owl’s hand, setting the pace for the three of them. Unlike Iseult, she hadn’t slipped once. So strange.

Nothing was said for the first ten minutes of their trek. Eventually, Iseult worked up the nerve and broke the ice in a way that didn’t involve falling on her ass.

“You said you started coming to Jitters every Friday?” she asked, giving Aeduan a side-long look. He nodded, keeping his eyes ahead of him.

“Before we pick up my sisters from school.”

Sisters. Interesting. Iseult instantly latched onto the topic. “Do they live around here?”

Aeduan shook his head. “Arithuania.”

“That’s not too far,” Iseult commented conversationally. “How old are they?”

“Lisbet’s 12 and Cora’s 8… They're my half-sisters.”

“Oh.” Iseult mulled over that. It was a seemingly small detail, but it invited a whole host of questions about his family. Lisbet and Cora were younger than him, so that meant he had a stepmother… which meant something had happened to his real mother. The desire to not to lose momentum of the conversation almost pushed Iseult to ask… but then she thought about Gretchya. If the roles were reversed and Aeduan had asked about her mom, she wouldn’t have wanted to answer. Her mom was about the furthest thing away from what she would want to talk about, now or ever.

So instead she said, “I don’t have any siblings. But I have Safi.”

Aeduan’s head turned to her. “Who’s Safi?”

“My best friend.” Iseult’s face broke out into a smile like it always did when she thought about Safi. “She’s the closest thing I have to a sister.”

“That… must be nice.”

Iseult nodded in agreement. “We live together.”

A pause. “Do you get along?”

“Most of the time. But even when we disagree, we’re always in sync. We’re always on each other’s side. It’s... hard to explain.”

“Hn.” That was all Aeduan had to say to that and then silence fell between. Iseult really felt like it was his turn to pick up the conversation. She’d done a decent enough job carrying it so far; a two minute run was pretty good, she thought. A record, maybe, for Aeduan. But now it was his turn. Or so she thought. Because the silence stretched. And stretched and stretched. She even heard Owl sigh at one point. She wouldn’t be surprised if she fell asleep by the time they made it to Jitters.

“Do you live around here?” she finally asked, then groaned inwardly. What a stupid question. Of course, he lived around here. They walked to the library all the time, dumby.

“Yes.”

The single word struck a match on Iseult’s nerves. She might as well have said nothing at all if that all she was going to get back in return. She wasn’t great at making conversation on a good day, but Aeduan - Aeduan was like a monolith. There was no breaking through to him. He just stood there like a constipated brick, not saying a word, with those ridiculously blue eyes and ridiculously long lashes, and just glared at her making her feel like a complete idiot for even trying to talk to him, like she was the one with the problem!

Well, she silently seethed, it was no secret to the Moon Mother that she was ripe with issues, but she was not the problem here. She peeked at him out of the corner of her eye, and the white winter sunlight caught on the lobe of Aeduan’s ear.

“Why do you wear that thing?” she blurted.

Aeduan’s head whipped to her, his eyes slightly widened, like he’d only just realized she was there. Before, Iseult might have been scared as to how he would react to such a brazen question. But her fears had nothing on the deep satisfaction of seeing the crimson blush that fanned out high on his cheeks and crawled to the tips of his ears. She half expected him to trip over himself for how long he gaped at her.

“Why do you care?” he snarled - he actually snarled!

Iseult stood her ground. In that, she kept walking, head held high.

“I didn’t say I cared,” she said smoothly. “I’m just curious. You don’t see a lot of guys walking around wearing gemstones in their ears. It says alot about a person.”

Aeduan’s jaw locked so tightly it looked like it might never unhinge ever again - which, Iseult supposed, wouldn’t make much of a difference seeing as he never said anything worthwhile anyway.

But then he did something that surprised her. He came to a full stop. He swiveled to face her directly, and when Iseult looked into his eyes, some of the fear she’d pushed aside rushed back.

“This gemstone,” Aeduan said venomously, pointing a sharp finger to his ear, “belonged to my mother.” He glared at Iseult and she swore she heard her heart stop entirely. Strangers milled about around them on the sidewalk, but in that moment nothing else existed outside of her and Aeduan. All she saw were his eyes. Cold as ice, yet burning with hatred... and grief. Even though Iseult was petrified of what he might say next, she realized that she felt like she was seeing him for the first time.

“I wear this to remember her.” Aeduan’s chest heaved. Icy air puffed from his lips with every labored breath, and Iseult suddenly noticed how close he was to her. Just another step and their noses would be touching. And their lips…

“If you’d ever lost a mother, you’d want to feel close to her too.”

This time Iseult’s heart did stop. With a disgusted look, Aeduan swung away from her and left her standing alone on the sidewalk, staring at the empty space where he used to be.

“I don’t think I would.”

Aeduan froze and looked over his shoulder. Iseult stood rooted to the spot.

“I-I d-don’t know if that’s t-true.” She shook her head, not sure where the words were coming from. Not sure how her heart could be beating so fast and not feel like it was working at the same time. Like it was malfunctioning and pumping out thoughts she would otherwise never say aloud. Not to anyone. Maybe not even Safi.

“My m-mother is sick and I d-don’t call her,” she stammered. “I never see her. I make excuses all the time about why I can’t visit her or why I don’t return her calls and even though I know I’m being a horrible daughter, I just can’t stop. I can’t bring myself to be better for her. I don’t know who your mother was or what she was like, but I do know mine. I don’t know what I’d do without her, I’ve never not had a mother, but… I don’t know if I’d want to feel close to her b-because I don’t feel c-close to her now. I… I don’t know if I’d miss her.”

The weight of everything she just admitted lifted off Iseult and she was able to breathe again, heartbeat retreating under the cool blanket of stasis she kept shrouded around her at all times. Pumping blood, not feelings, doing its job. She took a gulp of cold air. Her limbs felt foreign to her, the tension she always carried ebbing away, and a fierce exhaustion hit her with the force of a speeding train. She didn’t think she could bring herself to look at Aeduan after everything she just confessed… but she did anyway.

His expression was painstakingly emotionless. Not even a scrap of red tinged his cheeks. During her speech she hadn’t really registered him there. Even Owl at his side was looking at Iseult with something different. There was no repulsion, not judgement. Just… curiosity.

Iseult took another deep breath of air. It didn’t matter what Aeduan thought of her now. She needed to go to work. She needed to move forward. Her eyelids fluttered close briefly.

Stasis, Iseult. Stasis. Stasis in your fingers and in your toes.

When she opened her eyes, she was moving. She was brushing past his shoulder. And then-

Something stopped her.

Iseult looked down at the hand firmly gripped on the strap of her book bag, then slowly, tipped her chin up to look at Aeduan. The white winter sun behind him was a halo around his head.

“Can I buy you a muffin?”

* . * . * . * .

Somehow Iseult ended up on the green couch at Jitters. There had been scant elsewhere for the three of them to comfortably sit, so while Iseult had made a beeline for the couch before anyone else could snatch it out from under them, Aeduan headed to the counter to fetch them some coffee. Caffeine was probably the last thing Iseult needed right now - not after what had transpired on their walk - but when Aeduan had asked her how she took her coffee, she couldn’t find it in herself to refuse him.

There was an air of relaxed cheerfulness about the shop, the place bustling with people getting a jumpstart on their weekend, college students done with classes for the week. When Iseult spotted Cam alone scrambling behind the counter and Safi nowhere in sight, her first instinct was to rush over and give him a hand, but the second Aeduan stepped into her line of sight and instructed her to find a seat, she’d forgotten all about him.

It felt strange sitting and being waited on in her own coffee shop. It was like being served in her living room. She sat spine rod straight on the edge of the couch with her hands absently twisting her gloves in her lap. She hadn’t even bothered to take off her coat or scarf. They felt like protective armor now, like needing a blanket to fall asleep regardless of whether it’s cold or not. Right now, it was admittedly too hot, what with the fireplace crackling by the couch. She could feel herself growing uncomfortably warm. She resolved to loosen her scarf, but only a little bit.

Aeduan wasn’t alone when he reappeared carrying two mismatched mugs of coffee. Cam followed behind him, his face pinched in concentration, moving with caution as he balanced three small plates of pastries perilously along his spindly arms. Iseult tried not to make a show of watching him as he approached, but she held her breath, praying for him not to fumble. It would be exactly the kind of thing he would do, the poor kid. The second hand embarrassment alone would cause Iseult to combust.

The second the plates made contact with the low coffee table, she was able to breathe freely.

“Cam,” Iseult said, peering over the back of the couch and looking around the shop, “where’s Safi?”

Cam put down the last of the plates and wiped off his brow, relief evident on his face. “She ran out to the corner store. The delivery guys must be running late and we ran out of creamer.”

“That’s the second time this month,” Iseult muttered more to herself than to Cam. She sighed. “I’ll have Safi give them an earful when they get here.”

“Aye aye, sir.” Cam gave her a dutiful salute. He made to turn away, then stopped as if only just realizing that he had just served pastries to her. “You are working today, right? Safi seemed to think you were.”

“In another half hour,” said Iseult, checking the clock on the wall for good measure. “Don’t worry, I’ll be on by the time you need to leave. You won’t be late for your Big Brother meeting.”

Cam’s cheeks went a little pink and he rubbed the back of his neck. “Ok, thanks,” he said sheepishly. “I’m really sorry he called last week. I told him it wasn’t your fault, I swear.”

A memory of Safi hunched over the desk in their cramped office in the storeroom, red-faced, holding the phone to her ear flashed across her eyes. Safi’d endured a very heated discussion with some guy that claimed to be Cam’s Big Brother - didn’t even bother to properly introduce himself, the loser - and accused them of letting Cam off his shift late so that he was late for their meeting. Judging by the 30 minutes hate-rant that followed after she’d hung up the phone, it had not been a productive conversation.

“I believe you, Cam. It really wasn't a big deal,” she lied. It had taken forty bucks worth of take-out and a bottle of wine to convince Safi not to fire him on the spot.

“Ok,” Cam said again, shoulders relaxing. He surveyed the spread on their coffee table and glanced at Aeduan and Owl seated next to her. “I just wasn’t sure what this was.”

“Oh ah…” Iseult glanced at Aeduan who was helping Owl peel the paper wrapping off her muffin, not paying the least bit of attention to their conversation. “We’re just having some lunch.”

“Alright,” Cam said, eyeing Aeduan skeptically, if not fearfully. But he didn’t pry further. “Well, I’ll see you in a bit then. Enjoy your, uh, lunch.”

“Thanks,” Iseult said, watching him leave. Stealing herself, she shifted in her seat to face lunch.

Aeduan hadn’t touched his food. He was too busy fussing over Owl. She sat between them, contentedly munching on a muffin that was almost as big as her head. Much like before when they had been walking together, she felt like Owl was acting as some sort of barrier now, like Aeduan had put her there to keep some space between them. Iseult wondered if she should read into it. Maybe he was trying to tell her that this wasn’t anything special. Just two people having coffee. Nothing put the lid on romance faster than a four-year-old who, as far as Iseult could tell, hated her. And then there was the issue of the 6 months worth of guilt she’d word vomited all over the sidewalk just 10 minutes ago.

“Is everything alright?” Aeduan asked as he put down Owl’s juice box on the coffee table and picked at his own muffin.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Iseult said, almost breathless. “Just a problem with our delivery guys. I’ll have Safi handle it when she gets back.”

Aeduan popped a piece of muffin in his mouth and chewed methodically as he studied her. He swallowed. “No, I meant with you. Your face. It’s all red and splotchy.”

“Oh,” Iseult breathed, hands flying to her cheeks. The skin burned under her fingers. “I… I’m just a little warm, I guess. The fire…” Aeduan continued to stare and she looked down helplessly at her coat. “I suppose I can take this off,” she mumbled, reaching for the buttons and beginning to undo them. She tried to steady her fingers as she continued down the line. She shrugged the peacoat off and her entire body seemed to sigh with relief at the feeling of being able to breath again. She chanced another glance at Aeduan as she unwound her scarf, noticing that he had already taken his jacket. How she hadn’t noticed until was a mystery. The white t-shirt stretched across his chest made it devastatingly clear that he didn’t need any protective armor for their not-date.

Iseult had always been so preoccupied with what was going on inside Aeduan’s head that she never really wondered what went on with the rest of him. His signature leather jacket masked how lean he truly was, but it also hid everything else. Everything else being, well, everything. And boy, there was so much to see.

Not being much of a fashion guru, Iseult had never considered what was so special about the plain white tee. That singular item of clothing had transcended decades of trends despite being, as its title suggested, plain. Now, however, its reason for persevering was evident. Embellishment would only distract from the main attraction. The attraction being, the person who wore it.

Aeduan was, for lack of a better word, stacked.

The shirt left nothing to the imagination. Iseult could see the contours of his muscles, starting with the hard plane of his chest, traveling all the way down to map the outline of his abs. His arms were on full display in all their glory, pale and strong looking and - oh my gosh - was that a tattoo peeking out from underneath the hem of his sleeve?? There was nothing unsightly about him. He was built in a way that told her that he must be well-acquainted with the benefits of hitting the genetic lottery. This wasn't the work of protein powder. Somehow he had fallen into Moon Mother’s good graces. He looked healthy and strong and 100% out of Iseult’s league… It wasn’t until now that she’d ever even considered joining a league.

She didn’t own a bat.

She didn’t own a ball.

She’d never made it to first base before, nevermind hit a homerun.

She was so woefully unequipped in every way for the living Michaelangelo statue sitting across from her that it suddenly hit her that no wonder he didn’t talk much. Who needed words when you had a body like that to do all the talking?

Except Aeduan was talking for once. Now, in fact.

“Are you going to leave that on?” Iseult barely heard him ask.

“What? Oh-” She followed his line of sight to the beret on top of her head. She hastily peeled it off and awkwardly tried to smooth out her hair. She was uncomfortably aware of Aeduan’s eyes on her. She wished she hadn’t worn the silly thing. It had been a gift from Leopold a couple Christmases back. He had insisted that it was chic and retro and, no, it wouldn’t make her look like Mary from The Secret Garden, but now she would have liked nothing more than to toss it into the fire and watch it shrivel up into a pile of ash.

“Thanks,” she forced herself to say as she reached for the mug on the table. “For the coffee and- oh.” She examined the muffin beside it, then tilted her head questioningly at Aeduan. “Did you know cinnamon was my favorite?”

Aeduan, who was mid-sip, paused. Iseult caught the corner of his mouth curled up behind his mug. Then he tipped his coffee back and it was gone. “Lucky guess.”

Iseult allowed herself to smile, a little one, before ducking her down. She began to break apart her muffin… but there was only so much eating and drinking she could do before there would need to be some exchange of words. She decided to take a stab at it.

“You said you come here every Friday?”

“Pretty much,” Aeduan said, reaching for a napkin and dabbing a smear of what looked like blueberry off Owl’s cheek. She looked like she wanted to resist but didn’t.

“You do know there’s a Starbucks right around the corner, right?”

“So?”

“Well, why come here when you could go there?”

Aeduan thought about it, then shrugged. “I like the coffee.”

Iseult snorted into her mug, sending a couple errant droplets of coffee flying. Both Aeduan and Owl stared at her. Iseult surreptitiously wiped her mouth, but when she noticed that they were still staring, Aeduan clearly confused by her reaction, she sent the same nonplussed look right back.

“Are you serious?” Iseult asked deadpanned.

“I believe I am,” Aeduan replied, a little defensive, which made Iseult want to laugh again.

“It’s not actually real Marstoki coffee,” she said, gesturing to his mug. “You know that, right?”

Aeduan peered into the contents of his mug. “It’s not?”

“Not even a little.” Iseult gave him a bemused look, enjoying the curious way he was examining his mug, almost indignant. Eventually he accepted the truth and put it down.

“You said hazelnut makes it better. I guess you were right.”

Iseult’s heart skipped a beat. He ordered his coffee that way she had brewed it for him the first time she saw him in the shop? She didn’t know why that made her feel all gooey inside but it did.

A soft chime sounded and Aeduan reached into his back pocket. The movement stretched his already too tight shirt even tighter across his chest and Iseult launched into an aggressive excavation of her muffin as to avoid ogling him. When she eventually got a grip and looked back up, Aeduan was frowning at his phone.

“Something wrong?” Iseult asked, hoping that he didn’t have to leave.

He shook his head. “It’s nothing.” He started to put it away, then stopped. “Well,” - he shifted again and slid it back out - “do you know what this means?”

He leaned across Owl and showed the screen to Iseult.

“My sister likes to send me these… things,” he explained, watching Iseult carefully as she looked at the picture on his phone. “I never know what the heck she’s talking about.”

“Oh!” Iseult exclaimed with a laugh. “It’s a meme. See, that’s Kermit the Frog. Kermit is-”

“I know who Kermit the Frog is,” Aeduan ground out like it pained him to say the goofy green muppet’s name out loud. “But what does he have to do with her trying to decide whether or not she wants to sign up for the school’s annual spelling bee?”

“Well,” Iseult began and boldly took the phone from his hand and pointed to the Kermit hooded in a black cloak. “That’s Kermit’s evil persona. He’s like the devil on his shoulder whispering in his ear and egging him on. Your sister-”

“Lisbet,” provided Aeduan.

“-Lisbet said she doesn’t want to sign up because she has too many other extracurriculars going on right now and doesn’t want to overload herself. But she also wants the satisfaction of wiping the floor with her peers’ asses because she knows she’ll win.”

Aeduan frowned at her.

“My words, not hers,” she clarified. She handed the phone back to him. “She was using that picture of Kermit talking to his sinister self to emphasize her evil instincts.”

“I wouldn't exactly classify competing in a spelling bee as evil,” Aeduan said, studying the meme again.

Iseult plunked a bit of muffin in her mouth and chewed. “Sounds like she's a pretty outgoing kid.”

“She is,” Aeduan said, clicking his phone off and tucking it away. “But she’s quiet about it… Humble in a way the most overachieving 12-year-olds aren’t. To her it’s not overachieving, it’s just her being her.”

Iseult watched the faint smile that spread across his lips, warming his usually cold face. “Cora,” he continued without prompting, “is a lot like her, but sillier. She’s younger, of course, but she’s always been a little more mellow than Lisbet. More carefree. I don’t think school means the same to her as it does to Lisbet, but she’s a good girl.”

“They both sound like they’re good girls,” Iseult said.

“They are,” Aeduan nodded. “They are.”

A comfortable silence passed between them in which they both indulged in a few bites of their muffins.

“So what are your plans for this weekend?” Iseult asked.

Aeduan stiffened, looking slightly uncomfortable. “Uh, sorry, but I’m busy. I have the girls all weekend.”

She blinked. “Right, I know... what are your plans with them?”

“You weren’t...?” Aeduan’s face went red and he absently tugged at his pieced lobe. “Oh. Well. Uh…” He tried to mask his embarrassment with a cough. “Nothing special. Lisbet likes to get her homework out of the way on Fridays and Cora likes to do what Lisbet does, so we usually spend the rest of the afternoon doing school work. Saturdays are a mixed bag. Lisbet’s does a lot of extracurriculars, so depending on what she has going on, Saturday is our day to just hang out and relax.”

Iseult had a hard time picturing Aeduan “hanging out” and wondered what that would entail. Before she could ask, a noise sprouted between them and they both looked down. Owl sipped on her straw like she was sucking the life out of her juice box. Aeduan gingerly pulled it out of her mouth and placed the exsanguinated carton on the coffee table.

“What about you?” Aeduan asked, like nothing had happened. “Do you have any fun plans?” It sounded like he struggled to say the word ‘fun’.

“Well, I wouldn’t exactly call my plans fun. Or call them plans at all,” Iseult confessed, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I mostly work. And read.”

“And hang out with Safi.”

Iseult smiled, nodding. “And hang out with Safi.”

It took her a full 5 seconds to realize that Aeduan was smiling back at her. Not just with his mouth but with the little dimple that winked out from his cheek. It was the most brilliant thing she’d ever seen.

“Actually,” she spoke, looking down at her hands, “we’re hanging out tonight. Our friend Vaness is having a little get-together with some people.”

“Vaness?”

Iseult’s ears perked up, catching the sharp familiarity in the way he spoke her name. “Yeah. Do you know her?”

Aeduan opened his mouth to respond, his smile and the dimple noticeably missing, but at that moment, the bells over the entrance door jingled and in walked Safi.

“Iseult,” she breathed, nose and cheeks rosy from the cold. A paper bag was clutched to her chest with what Iseult guessed was creamer.

At the sound of her name, Aeduan’s head instinctively turned to look over the back of the couch. Safi froze as the door closed behind her.

“S-Safi,” Iseult exclaimed, taken aback by the stutter over her best friend’s name. That was a first. But Safi didn’t seem to notice. Her feet seemed glued to the floor with her stare pinned on Aeduan.

“This is Aeduan and - oh!” - Owl was turning in her seat and pulling herself up with the back of the couch to see what the fuss was about - “this is Owl.”

Owl gave Safi a shrewd look that lasted all of 5 seconds before sinking back down onto the cushion and returning to her muffin. Clearly, she was unimpressed by Iseult’s choice in best friend.

“Aeduan, this is Safi,” Iseult told him, nearly choking on Safi’s name when she saw the frosty look he was giving Safi.

Neither of them said anything.

“We were just eating lunch,” Iseult explained, grappling for words. She looked from Safi to Aeduan waiting for someone to explain why on earth she’d been transported to the arctic tundra. They seemed to be locked in some sort of Vulcan mind meld; she had a feeling her limited knowledge of Star Trek trivia wasn’t going to do much to break it.

Thankfully, Aeduan was the one to do the deed. He sent a downward jerk of his head to Safi in acknowledgment that might as well have been a punch to the face for all the friendliness it had, then turned to Iseult.

“We need to get going,” he said, his voice carrying none of the warmth or depth it had had in their conversation moments ago.

“S-sure,” Iseult faltered. She was unable to ignore the sinking disappointment buoying in the pit of her stomach. “I w-wouldn’t want to keep Lisbet and Cora waiting.”

Wordlessly, he pulled on his jacket and helped Owl into hers, then bundled her up in her hat, scarf, and gloves. He started to stack the mugs and plates.

“You don’t have to-” Iseult tried to stop him, but he continued anyway.

“I got it,” was all he gruffed out. When everything was piled up, he stepped around the coffee table and transported it all to the counter by the waste bin. When he came back he held out his hand to Owl, who slid off the couch and placed her fuzzy mittened hand in his, then glanced at Iseult. She couldn’t read his expression, but she didn’t have much time because the next second he was turning his back on her and leaving.

Safi, who hadn’t budged, didn’t say a word as he sidestepped around her and pushed through the door. The second it rattled shut, her head whipped to Iseult. She whizzed over to the couch like time had stopped and was suddenly speeding to catch up. She threw herself down where Aeduan had been sitting and carelessly let the paper bag drop to the floor, barely giving it any mind. Disbelief was written all over her face. Iseult was glad that her expression was finally readable, but was still very much bewildered as to the reason behind it.

“What was that all about? Are you crazy?” Safi whisper-hissed.

Iseult blinked rapidfire in response. “What are you talking about?”

“Him!” Safi exclaimed, shooting a look over her shoulder. “That guy! Why on Earth would you hang out with him?!”

Iseult was so confused. She was barely able to form words. “He’s just a patron at the library. We’re friends.”

Safi gave her a flabbergasted look. “He’s not just a patron. Iseult,” - she leaned forward and brought her head close to hers - “do you seriously not recognize who he is or do you not remember anything from that night?” She pinned her with a stare, eyebrows high, as though waiting for a response, but Iseult shook her head smally, her mouth clamped shut. Nothing Safi was saying was making any sense and it was making her more and more nervous.

Safi sucked in a breath through her nose and her hand covered Iseult’s in her lap. She squeezed it bracingly. All it did was send another shot of fear through Iseult. She stared into Safi’s blue eyes.

“Iseult,” she said in a low voice, “that’s the chief of police’s son... the cop that crashed Vaness’ end-of-the-year party.”

* . * . * . * .

The moment Aeduan stepped outside, he felt like he could breathe again. It had become too hot in there. And then when Safi walked in…

Of course - of course - Iseult’s best friend had to be the impossible barista. But she wasn’t just that. Because just before she’d interrupted them, something that had been out of place had slid home and he’d realized something: he knew Iseult.

A memory of a hot summer night that started with a noise complaint rushed back to him. Being in the Domestic Violence Unit, it wasn’t something his squad typically covered, but staff was stretched thin that night, what with the non-stop partying shaking up the college city, and Aeduan didn’t have much choice to turn his back on the call. It had been one of the last runs he’d made before turning in his badge.

Iseult probably didn’t even remember it. But he did.

Owl tugged at Aeduan’s hand and felt her curl into his leg. He peered down at her questioningly.

She lifted a mittened hand out in front of her. “Dog,” she said.

Aeduan looked to where she pointed and, sure enough, there was a dog leashed to a lamppost, most likely waiting for his owner to return from getting a coffee. At the sight of the two of them, he lifted his shaggy head from his front paws, attention piqued.

Annoyance tugged at Aeduan’s gut. He hated when dog owners just left their pets tied up unattended. It was just notch below leaving them in the car.

Owl let go of his hand and clutched herself to him, hiding behind his leg. Wide brown eyes peeked out from behind him at the dog, who looked cold and miserable.

“Tail not moving,” she said, her words muffled by the fabric of his jeans. Aeduan nodded and gave the dog a pitying look.

“That’s right,” he told her. “He’s probably not happy being left out in the snow by his master.”

Owl tucked herself even closer to him and a small whimper bubbled out of her. Aeduan moved to sidestep away from her to show her the dog wouldn’t hurt her, but she only whimpered again, more loudly.

“It’s ok,” Aeduan shushed her, gently extricating her from his leg and lifting her up in the air like she weighed nothing. “I got you.”

Her arms wrapped around his neck the moment she connected with his chest and the warmth of her enveloped him, anchoring him, pushing thoughts of his old life his mind. He held her close, humming soft comforting words to her and rocking her gently.

From the snow-covered sidewalk, the shivering dog’s watery, mournful eyes watched him and Aeduan stared back. He thought about Iseult and her sick mother. He thought about Owl’s tear-stained face from that morning and her arms around him now. And then he thought about what it would take to lose a child and what it would feel like to not be missed.

#the witchlands #bookends #iseult det midenzi #aeduan #baeseult #owl #safiya fon hasstrel #iseult x aeduan #cam leeri #truthwitch #my fics #mine

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dawninlatin · 4 years

Text

Queen of Peace, Chapter 2

A manorian high school AU

Words: 1773

Warnings: Vague mentions of psychological abuse

AO3 Link: Click here

Summary: Manon Blackbeak is flawless, untouchable. From the outside at least. Her grandmother pushes her to achieve greatness, and she doesn't let anyone get too close in fear of being hurt. How can anyone love her when not even her parents could?

Dorian Havilliard has always felt safe and confident around his friends. He might not have the greatest of families, but with Aelin and Chaol by his side, nothing can go wrong. That is until he tries keeping his greatest secret from them.

What will happen when Dorian and Manon gets to know one another? Can two lost souls find their way back together?

‘Cause I’m gonna be free and I’m gonna be fine

But maybe not tonight

-Florence + The Machine, Delilah

Manon stared into her history book as the desks around her slowly filled up with students.

People were talking about their summers. Parties and hook-ups and vacations and memories made with friends.

She couldn’t have cared less.

The classroom buzzed with excitement over a new semester, a new year. She couldn’t have cared less about that either.

Manon only wanted one thing: To stay focused on her grades, get into a good college and get out of this hellhole. Only the best will do. You don’t want to end up like your mother, do you?

Shaking off her grandmother’s words, she looked up just in time to see Elide Lochan enter the classroom. The girl was wearing a light blue dress, wavy, dark brown hair cascading down her back, and she was headed straight towards Manon. Fuck.

She had managed three years of high school without having to share a class with Elide, but apparently her luck had run out.

Lochan was a walking ray of sunshine. Always smiling, always talking, always caring. She had been Manon’s best friend once, but that was a whole other story.

«Is this seat taken?» Elide asked, still smiling. Manon looked around to see that all the other desks had already been filled up with students.

«I guess it isn’t,» she answered drily before diving back into her book, trying her very best to ignore the girl sitting down next to her.

Elide put down her backpack, taking out her books and placing them in front of her. «How was your summer?»

That girl will only slow you down, stopping you from reaching your goals.

Manon shrugged, not taking her eyes away from the textbook.

She will find new friends as soon as you start high school anyway.

Elide - clearly not taking the hint - spoke again: «I really miss you, Manon.» Her voice seemed hurt, but Manon was certain she could hear a sliver of hope as well.

«No, you don’t.» She still couldn’t look up, couldn’t see the crushing disappointment surely written all over Elide’s face now.

You need to stay focused. You need to study, and not spend your time giggling over make-up and boys.

The next time Elide spoke, Manon lifted her gaze in surprise, for her voice was not shaking, it was hard, almost cold, as she said: «You think you can push me away, but I don’t believe any of this stone cold act you’re putting on. I see you, Manon.»

«No, you don’t,» Manon replied quickly, voice emotionless.

Elide didn’t cower under her stare, didn’t look away. She looked angry, and just as she was about to speak again, the teacher walked in.

Manon turned to face the board, their teacher clapping his hands together before saying:

«Welcome back! Before we get started on today’s lesson, I just want to let you know that the places you have now will be your places for the rest of the semester.»

Fuck.

Dorian was walking down the hallway with Aelin, who was furiously ranting about some book she had just finished.

«-and then she went to find this creature so it could tell her how she could heal him, and it reveals that they’re fucking mates! It was insane! So she did the only sensible thing, she stormed off, leaving him, but a few days later he finds her and he tells her everything and she accepts the bond - and believe me, I was sobbing when I read that part - and then they have sex for like 20 pages or something, it was wild - there are other scenes like that too and I didn’t know so I was reading the first one in front of my mom, and she just goes: you okay there Aelin? You look a little warm. I shit you not, she actually said that as I was reading this super steamy scene - anyway, you think everything will be fine but on the last pages EVERYTHING goes to hell and then it just ends!»

Dorian failed to hide his grin as Aelin gestured wildly. She looked mad. «You done yet?»

Aelin gave him a sheepish smile as she said: «Yes, I’m done. I can’t wait for you to read this so we can discuss it together.»

«I’m gonna start it as soon as I have finished my current read, did I tell you about that?»

But Aelin wasn’t listening anymore, Dorian noticed. She had stopped, her smile gone as she was staring at something ahead of them.

Dorian followed Aelin’s gaze until his eyes landed on Manon Blackbeak, standing by her locker, listening to her cousin with a bored expression. She was one of the seniors - just like them - but Dorian had never actually spoken to her. They had never shared any classes, and she wasn’t someone you could just walk over to and start a conversation with.

No, Manon Blackbeak was untouchable.

As Dorian looked at her, he had to admit she was rather pretty. She had long, silky, white hair, full lips wearing a bright red lipstick and her light brown eyes looked like molten gold.

Stop staring, you creep, he scolded himself, shifting his attention to Aelin.

«You okay?» Dorian asked his friend.

Aelin finally seemed to come out of her trance. «Yeah, she just gives me the creeps,» she said, nodding her head towards Manon. «I had PE with her last year, and I swear to god, she has the emotional range of a teaspoon.»

He looked over at her, smirking. «Did you just quote Harry Potter? Nerd.»

She lightly punched his arm. «We both know I could recite the whole series from memory,» she replied, rolling her eyes at him. «Besides, you took that reference. Nerd,» Aelin mocked back, mimicking his voice and sticking her tongue out at him.

Dorian laughed before realizing they now stood outside the science classroom. «Shit! This is my stop. See you at lunch?»

Aelin gave him two thumbs up and a grin before disappearing into the crowd.

As he stepped into the classroom, his mind wandered back to silky, white hair and a pair of golden eyes. Aelin might believe her to be incapable of feeling, but the depth of those eyes told a different story. A story Dorian wanted to hear.

«-five, six, seven, eight. And one, two, three -.» The music came to a halt, Manon turning around to face the rest of her team.

«Why did we stop?» Vesta asked, panting slightly, always the first to speak.

Manon didn’t have the patience for this. Today had been stressful enough as it was. After having to spend an entire history lesson with Elide Lochan, her day had progressively gotten worse. It was only the first day of school, and she had already been assigned with two tests and a two-thousand word essay.

«You’re falling behind again, Sorrel,» Manon answered, annoyance clear in her voice.

The routine wasn’t that hard. As long as you focused on the music, it was easy to coordinate the moves.

She could see Asterin rolling her eyes as her cousin bit back: «It’s the first practice after summer vacation! We should start with something easier to get back into the rhythm.»

«You should be in ‘the rhythm’ already. Actually, you should have spent your summer getting better. All the progress we had before vacation is gone now. If we wanna beat Iskra and her team we need to step up.»

You need to be the very best. Always. I won’t accept any less.

Manon could see that Asterin was about to protest, but she beat her to it. «And need I remind you, Asterin, who’s captain of this team?»

She turned the music back on, her grandmother’s words still repeating in her mind.

«We’ll keep practicing this until you know it backwards.»

Dorian was lying in bed, looking at old photos, an episode of BuzzFeed Unsolved playing in the background.

He kept scrolling until he reached a photo of himself and Aelin grinning madly as they were riding a rollercoaster. He remembered Chaol chickening out at the last minute, how Aelin clutched his hand as they neared the top, himself puking into a trashcan as soon as they got off. It was taken years ago, but Dorian could still hear the children screaming in frightened delight, could still taste the cotton candy he had shared with his friends, could still smell the popcorn.

If he focused hard enough, he could still feel what it was like being a child. When you had nothing to worry about, because your dad was the strongest, bravest person in the world and your mom could fix every problem.

But it wasn’t like that anymore. They had grown up. Dorian had grown up, and along the way he had realized that his dad was a weak and pathetic coward and his mom could barely handle her own problems.

He looked back at the picture. It wasn’t just his family that had changed.

Dorian, Aelin, Chaol.

It had been the three of them for as long as he could remember. Dorian couldn’t even recall how they had met. Aelin and Chaol was a constant in his life. The one thing he could always rely on, no matter what.

All of that was changing now. He could feel it.

They would soon be scattered across the country for college, and Aelin was spending much more time with Rowan, now that he was her boyfriend.

That isn’t the only thing keeping you apart, a voice inside of him said.

It was also the matter of the secret he kept from them.

Dorian still hadn’t told them he was bisexual. His stomach grew heavy as he yet again reminded himself of the fact.

He didn’t know what he was so scared of. They would without a doubt support him - and he wasn’t ashamed of his sexuality, not in any way - but it was always a possibility, always a what if? And if he told his friends it would be out in the world, and Dorian would no longer have all the control.

The secret inside him kept tugging and tugging, fighting it’s way out, but something stopped it.

Dorian hated himself for not being able to just say it.

He was done letting this get in the way of his friendship.

This was the last year they all had together before going separate ways. He didn’t want to spend it pretending to be someone he was not.

He just had to find the courage first.

A/N: And we're getting started!

Thank you so much for reading this<3

Feel free to leave a comment letting me know what you think<3

Also, I will begin every chapter with a Florence + The Machine quote just because no one can stop me;)

Peace&Love -Dawninlatin<3

#throne of glass #sarah j maas #manorian #manon x dorian #manorian fanfiction #manon blackbeak #dorian havilliard #throne of glass fanfiction #dawninlatin QoP

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cinnaminsvga · 5 years

Text

fox rain | three

→ summary: When the love letter you wrote and submitted as an assignment is leaked to the entirety of your university, it becomes a race against time to dispel rumours and convince the seven suspected muses of the poem that they aren’t the subject before anyone realises that you are the author. Easy, right? Well… maybe not as easy as you think.

→ pairing: bts x reader (feat. namjoon) → genre: college!au, crack, fluff, angst → warnings: none unless you count overly graphic descriptions of how stupid namjoon is (oh and like... ant gambling rings??) → words: 15.7K → a/n: this is late by a month and my whole life is a joke. i hope this makes you laugh bc i made namjoon extra dumb for y’all (for no extra charge. suck it, chipotle.) also: check bio for other chapter links for now!

— • masterlist | prev | three | next • —

“This can’t be my fucking life. Can it?” you say to your own reflection, curtains of despair dripping from every inch of your visage. Your reflection stares back, the same dead eyes twitching imperceptibly from the lack of caffeine in your system. At this point, you wouldn’t be sane enough to be surprised if your parallel self would reply, perhaps with some scathing remark about how you were slowly losing your grip on your life. Not that it would be unwarranted, anyway.

After Hoseok’s explosion the other day, your weekend doesn’t exactly feel as exciting as it usually is. Of course, your mood is still a vast improvement from last week when you were out of commission for most it after your mental breakdown. Although, it doesn’t erase the fact that you’re still knee deep in shit and that you have no idea how you’re going to face Hoseok and Jimin the following Monday.

Damn. You could really use some coffee.

The day seems to be in much better spirits than you, and it would be a waste not to let the universe’s good mood try to make you feel better as well. There is a coffee shop just a block away, and maybe you could take a walk in the sunshine afterwards to help relax the dread consistently knocking at the back of your mind. It’s a little bit optimistic, but it’ll have to do.

Shrugging on a thin cardigan over some other semi-decent clothes, you step out of your stuffy apartment with a spring in your step. You didn’t bother with any of your usual morning ritual, seeing as how you don’t plan on meeting with anyone you know from university anyway. So what if your landlady Mrs. Park sees the bird’s nest on top of your head? Who is she going to tell? Her gang of old auntie friends all hate you already for wearing a “TRANS RIGHTS” shirt in front of them, so it’s not like you’re vying for their acceptance.

Other than your less than friendly neighborhood aunties, there are better old people to hang around anyway. Nearby the coffee shop, there is a senior home where you used to volunteer during your spare time until your other commitments forced you to give up your spot to some other benevolent soul. Since you have been meaning to visit the grandmas and grandpas there when you got some free time, you suppose it would be nice to talk to kind ol’ Ms. Kim today and listen to her recount her many youthful adventures (which is, more often than not, a euphemism for her various sexcapades in the 70s.)

The senior home is closer to your home than the coffee shop, so you choose to stop and gaze at the plain-looking white building with its neatly trimmed bushes and white picket fence. It looks out of place in the neighborhood, with its very suburban and Americana design, but you know it is only because the owner of the establishment had gotten her inspiration from Forrest Gump. She has a crush on young Tom Hanks, and you honestly can’t blame her for it; that man… he is a Man, with a capital M.

You’re in the middle of debating whether you should buy your coffee first before visiting the seniors when you hear a distant shout coming from within the house. Alarmed, you take a step back, almost falling on your ass and onto the sidewalk. You pause, tilting your head to try and peak over the fence and through the large windows that showed the reception area within. You recognize Hana, the receptionist, sitting by her desk in her usual green scrubs, her head bowed over a book as if the sound had not fazed her in the slightest.

“Am I crazy? Am I starting to hear things?” You wonder aloud, still staring at the innocent-looking home. Has the universe had enough with your lacklustre existence that it has caused you to hear nonsense? Is this only the beginning of your slow descent into madness?

You don’t have to fret over your sanity for too long because moments later, the shout repeats itself. Like the previous one, this one sounds just as pained and anguished, though you aren’t sure if it was a male or female who had screamed. For all you knew, the person might have either stubbed their toe or gotten a knife stabbed through their chest; it’s not like you spend time distinguishing the subtle nuances of tormented screams. However, you are more certain now that it had come from within the home, even though Hana has yet to react to the chilling noise. She flips to the next page, tired eyes squinting at the small text.

You are stuck at an impasse: do you go inside the home despite the possible danger of entering a secret cannabilist society of which your acquaintance has been initiated to, or do you turn around and go home where it is 100% more likely for you to survive the next 24 hours?

The choice becomes apparent to you, however, when a tall, lanky boy bursts out of one of the doors behind the receptionist, with his arms piled to the ceiling with dinner plates on the cusp of making their way to the floor. Even through the window and behind a fence, you can tell that he is in dire need of help, which Hana does not seem likely to extend. The mess of legs makes a beautiful display of himself, his lower limbs flapping about aimlessly as his body contorts to try and keep himself and the plates balanced.

Finally, after what feels like hours of torture watching the poor volunteer make a fool of himself, he manages to steady himself, his legs crossed together like he’s trying to hold in his piss. Carefully, he squats down, placing the plates on the floor in front of the receptionist desk. For a moment, you feel as though you should be applauding, for whatever reason.

Now without dishes obscuring his face, you can make out the identity of the flailing giraffe man. He turns, fingers combing through his distinctly colored hair––

Oh god. It’s him. You gotta get out of there, fast, before he recognizes you. Maybe if you run quickly enough, then maybe he won’t notice you when he looks out the window around.

“Ha,” the universe laughs, clapping their asscheeks to the rhythm of Ludacris’ Move Bitch Get Out Da Way™️ with a smirk. “Cute of you to think your life isn’t basically a 20-year long trainwreck in motion.”

Inevitably he turns around, his eyes immediately locking on your face despite being half-concealed by the fence. He looks confused for a moment, mouth opening and closing like a goldfish until he lights up, recognition flooding his features. Even though you cannot hear him clearly, you just know that he said something stupid, judging by the way Hana has finally looked up from her book to stare at him weirdly.

Please don’t come out and greet me. Please just let me wave at you awkwardly and for you to stay where you are. Please don’t go out and talk to me––

Your prayers go unanswered once more as he sidesteps the wall of plates, his hip just barely grazing it and almost causing it to tumble down. The pile sways precariously from left to right, miraculously staying put as he rushes out to greet you. You can only imagine the mess he’d have to clean up if it did, shards of cheap porcelain left behind in his awkward, fumbling wake.

Luckily (or unluckily for you), he makes it out of the senior home in one piece. He crosses the short path to the fence in two inhumanly long strides, slamming the fence door open with a wide swing. It smacks loudly against the railing, the hinges making a pained groan as it looks to be at the inch of its life––literally. You vaguely remember replacing the screws on it just before you left over six months ago… Surely you hadn’t done such a shoddy job? Although, you know that simply can’t be true. After all, you’re dealing with none other than destruction incarnate himself, Kim––

“Y/N!” Namjoon greets happily, his dimples deeper than you remember. You swallow heavily, trying your best not to sweat under his overly enthusiastic gaze. God, you should’ve gone straight to the coffee shop when you had the chance.

Nothing like facing disaster head-on, as they say. “Hey,” you reply half-heartedly, though the walking inflatable tube man doesn’t seem to mind your lacklustre mood. He grasps your hands for a shake, swinging your entire body up and down with the care of a man who does not know his own strength. You, his unfortunate victim, are left to suffer through his artery-bursting grip.

“Oh god, you have no idea how glad I am to see you! Not that I’m not normally happy to see you at university, but––” He speaks so quickly that it’s hard to keep track of the specific contents of his sentences, so you can only hope that your unenthused nods will be enough to placate the bumbling buffoon. You resign yourself to a fate similar to the bobbleheads on the dashboards of those white suburban soccer moms.

“Wait, hold on.” What on earth..? You are full on gaping at the piece of work on top of his head, not even pretending to be polite as you try to process what is in front of you. “What the hell happened to your hair?”

You know from old Facebook photos that Namjoon has natural black locks, though you can’t say that his wacky hairstyles were also inborn. Ever since you have known him, he has always dyed his hair a sandy brown color, complimenting his tan skin. Now, however…

“You mean the weird blue streaks?” Namjoon says, rubbing a few strands thoughtfully. His hair is a walking disaster, and this is coming from someone who has seen what Kim Seokjin has done to his clients. (There’s a reason his Yelp reviews are terrible… He deserves negative stars, if you’re being honest.)

“Did you lose a dare or something?”

“Uh… Kind of?” He scratches the back of his neck, embarrassed. “I had meant to change my hair color to something more exciting, so I asked the kids at the daycare and they suggested blue. Problem is, the seniors said they preferred my brown hair but I already promised the kids so… Here we fucking are,” he says in one breath, appearing as though what he said was obvious.

“So your solution was to compromise… by coloring half your hair blue, like some botched version of Death the Kid?”

“Exactly!” He beams, glad that you understand him perfectly.

Oh my god… He’s… No words are coming to you right now, but you get the picture.

The thing about Kim Namjoon is… he’s not… bad. Or dumb, for that matter.

Okay, not the best compliment out there, but it’s true. You’ve known for as long as you’ve been a university student, and your first meeting is certainly one for the books. You wouldn’t exactly consider him a “friend,” and an acquaintance is a bit of a stretch on most days, but he’s a nice guy. He’s eccentric in the most positive way, and not at all in the same chaotic and evil way that Seokjin is (for which you are thankful for.) It has always been a bit tricky to get close with him, as his head is always so far up in his work that it almost feels like he’s being reclusive on purpose.

If you ignore the fact that he has that odd propensity to volunteer himself in any job on the face of the earth (with him being unqualified 9 times out of 10), it is easy to see why people think so highly of him.

He is a scholarship student with a 4.0 GPA, is the youngest candidate to ever receive the university president’s yearly public commendation, and has already released two reputable mixtapes with high praise from critics nationwide. He’s nothing if not a prodigy, and he’s amassed a hefty following for his accomplishments. As a music major yourself, it’s hard not to be a little starstruck with him if you’re being honest.

Most of all, you remember the first song that you had ever heard from him: Moonchild. You still can’t quite believe he let you hear one of his many masterpieces when the two of you had just been total strangers. The lyrics had been so heartfelt, so intimate, that you felt as if you were intruding on his personal space or something. But he had let you listen, let you take a peek at what goes on inside that nebulous brain of his. When he does things like that, it makes it easy to understand why people might think your love poem might be about him. He’s just so… easy to admire.

The poem isn’t about him, but. It could have been, in some other life. (Or maybe it is.)

(Was.)

(Will?)

Regardless, you still have to convince him otherwise. You just simply aren’t ready for that type of development, much less with him. Despite all his good sides.

Thus, Kim Namjoon leaves you at a standstill. Why do you feel so fucking weird about harboring this idol crush on him? How can he be so dumb and so smart at the same time? He has blue fucking hair for crying out loud! He’s causing you cognitive dissonance just by existing, and it’s giving your meagre amount of brain cells a workout.

Oh shit, have you been ignoring him? You were totally zoning out this entire time, haven’t you?

Somewhere around the time you were having your mini mental breakdown, Namjoon’s mouth had stopped moving, giving you an expectant look. Oh shit. He probably asked you something. Embarrassed and unwilling to give away that you had not processed even a single word out of his mouth, you nod and give him an approximation of what you assume is a friendly smile.

For a second, you think that you might have gotten away with it when Namjoon’s face breaks out into an enormous grin. He grabs you by the shoulder and envelops you in an chokehold-like embrace. You let out a wheeze, clawing at his biceps with your remaining strength to try and prevent your untimely death due to asphyxiation. “Namjoon..?”

He lets out a shriek at a higher octave than you thought a man of his size was capable of. Somewhere out there, a dog probably perks up at the supersonic sound. “Y/N, I knew I could count on you! Thank you so much for agreeing to help me with the elders for Zombie Tea Time!”

Now that caught your attention. You pause in your squirming to fix him with a confused expression. “I’m… I’m sorry? What did you say?”

His smile never falters. He presses his cheek against yours, rubbing it happily with a hum. In any other scenario, you might have fainted from how adorable he was being, but seeing as how all your blood is still trapped in your upper extremities from his vice hug, it is difficult enough trying to remember how to stay alive.

“Every Saturday, the senior home hosts this event called Zombie Tea Time where the old people all get to have their faces painted with fake blood and all the volunteers have to pretend to be innocent civilians trying to get away from them!”

The more Namjoon speaks, the more you feel your sanity dripping out of your ass like diarrhea. “Ex. Excuse me? Say that again?”

“Yeah, it’s a new thing the volunteers are trying out this month,” Namjoon says, finally (finally) releasing you from his hug. You don’t know if your flushed cheeks are from embarrassment or a stroke. “Like I said, we’re a bit shorthanded today, so I’ve had to wash the plates from breakfast AND pretend to get eaten by senile zombies. It’s… a lot.”

“Oh, I can tell.” You grimace, patting him on the shoulder empathetically. You freeze. “Wait. So that’s why you were screaming a while ago?”

“Huh?” Namjoon pauses, before his face does something funny where it looks like he’s either going to sneeze or take a shit. Thankfully he does neither, but instead reaches his hand around his back like he has an itch he needs to scratch. He makes a pained yelp, plucking something out from his asscheeks and pulling out what appears to be––

You stare at the object in his palm. “Are those… dentures?”

“Hmm…” Namjoon stares at it, too tired to be disgusted. He just nods his head sagely. “Must’ve been when I was too slow to dodge Mister Lee’s lunge. I was beginning to wonder why my ass felt like it was being eaten out.”

“Please, never say that sentence to me ever again.”

“Yea,” he agrees, sighing faintly. He pockets the teeth much to your horror, patting it gently like he hadn’t just placed a pair of dentures in his fucking scrubs. He dusts off his hands, his lips pursed so that his dimples stand prominently on display. You barely contain yourself from sinking your finger right into their hypnotizing abysses.

He looks at you hopefully. “So… Uh. You said you’ll help me?”

Oh right. You fucking said you’d help him fend off a hoard of virulent old people in face paint.

You look to the right, where the coffee shop is just within sight. Sweet, sweet caffeine, tantalizing you with its saccharine presence, dangling its wretchedly addictive power over your head. If you breathe deeply enough, you think you can smell the coffee beans from here.

You turn back to Namjoon, and you can physically feel the weight of his hopeful gaze on your shoulders. Your defenses have never crumbled so quickly in your life. Fuck him and his stupidly handsome ass.

You sigh, resigning your fate to eternally being whipped for a pair of pretty long legs and size B man titties. “Let’s fucking do this, I guess.” Easier said than done, but you already have one foot in elephant shit, so might as well submerge your whole body as well.

You follow Namjoon closely, having to take two extra steps for every one step that he takes. He crosses the reception area quickly, sending energetic finger guns at Hana which unsurprisingly goes unrequited. You take the more inconspicuous route and wave shyly at her, intimidated by her even after you have long since stopped working here. She levels you with one of her infamous hundred yard stares, lips turned downwards as she appraises you.

“You’ve decided to come back?” she asks, leaning back on her chair with a huff.

Namjoon is in the midst of trying to once again carry all the plates in his Play-Doh arms, so you’re a bit distracted when you shake your head in response. “Uh. N-no, Namjoon just asked me to help with the dishes, that’s all.”

“That’s a shame,” Hana says, no trace of disappointment in her voice whatsoever. She returns to her book, buzzing open the double doors to let the two of you pass. She flicks her hand lazily at the commotion happening behind her. “Better hurry back in there. The seniors are getting antsy.”

The doors open automatically, and you almost topple over when you are immediately bombarded with the terrifying symphony of old people hollering obscenities at frantic volunteers trying desperately to get away from their gnarled clutches. The hoard hasn’t noticed the two of you yet, and you fear to wonder what type of horrors that you will have to face once you step through those doors. You absolutely refuse to die on this hill, not when you haven’t even had your first kiss yet.

“I don’t think we’ll die,” Namjoon says, as if he can read your mind. You look at him skeptically.

“You think?”

He clears his throat. “I can’t promise we’ll come out of this unscathed, though.”

He takes a tentative step forward, the pile of dishes wobbling dangerously on their perch. You are quick to steady the leaning tower of Disa(ster), managing to transfer half of it into your own arms. You grunt, adjusting your stance so that you do not accidentally lose your grip. “Dude. How the hell did you get all those plates out here in the first place?”

Namjoon stands up straighter, the weight significantly easier for him to manage now. He smiles cherubically back at you, eyes crinkling cutely. “Oh, I was literally on survival mode and trying to stop lil Mrs. Sun from gnawing my leg off. The elders can smell fear you see, so they were definitely going to climb on top of me like World War Z and probably kill me.” He pauses, deep in thought. “Although, I think I dropped a plate or two while I was escaping, so watch your step!”

He says all of that with the same eagerness as man who is about to do something crazy, like jump out of a plane or walk a tightrope over a 100 ft canyon. Though, you have to admit that this entire scenario feels like it is on the same calibre.

“Is it me, or are the old people here 10 times crazier than I remember when I volunteered here?”

“You used to work here?” Namjoon says, amazed. “Oh, I didn’t know that! I only started a week ago when some other person resigned due to mental health issues or something.”

“You sure that this place isn’t the cause of their mental decline?” You say it like a joke, though you mean it seriously. Maybe the universe had been looking out for you when decided to get out of this place.

“Hmm… Maybe. Although, we only received this shipment of old people fairly recently.”

Pause. Rewind. “S-shipment?” you repeat, staring at him wildly.

Like the lovable airhead that he is, Namjoon fails to notice your astonishment and instead takes the first brave step forward through the double doors. He tilts his head towards the hallway, gesturing for you to follow him. The plates rattle dangerously from his movements. “C’mon, we gotta get these plates cleaned before the lunch crew comes to take over their shifts!”

Walking to the kitchen is easier than you thought, especially after you take into account the fact that all the old people completely ignored you and chose to only attack Namjoon, for whatever reason. You like to think that it is because the seniors still remember you back when you were still volunteering here and that they hold some semblance of endearment for you, but Namjoon begs to differ. In fact, he screams out his hypothesis as to why you have been left unharmed, all while two older women climb his back like demented crabs.

“Y/N! I think they can’t attack you because you’re in civilian clothes! They only attack scrubs!” Namjoon says, swatting away one of the women off his back with a surprisingly coordinated headbutt. She shrieks as she falls, landing on all four legs like a cat would do. She hisses lowly at you, before scuttling off to somewhere unseen.

“Let’s hope you’re right,” you wince, watching Namjoon unsuccessfully trying to spin quick enough to dislodge the remaining senior.

Namjoon perks up when he catches a glimpse of his attacker’s face, giggling and appearing as if he isn’t currently being assailed by a senior citizen. “Oh, Ms. Kim! I didn’t see you there. I love the zombie make-up you got going. Who helped you?” He looks at you, as if imploring you to compliment her as well.

“Uh. Yes. You’re looking very… yellow.”

Ms. Kim snarls, baring her teeth. “It’s the jaundice,” she says.

Not wanting to stand in that hallway any longer, you carefully place the plates back on the floor before you gently unclamp the old lady’s talons from Namjoon’s poor biceps. You wince, feeling the length of her nails and knowing that Namjoon is going to have some nasty scars.

You tell him so, but he only shakes his head. “Nah? I think they’d be pretty neat! Battle scars are cool right?”

You grimace at him. “If that’s… what you think, then sure.”

After grabbing your plates and hurrying after him before the elders make note of Namjoon’s survival, the two of you share a sigh of relief as you both slowly start piling them into the dishwasher. The task is menial and repetitive, and despite what Namjoon’s earlier chattiness might have suggested, he is quiet while he works. The silence is not as awkward as you feared, and honestly the peace is a welcome respite after all the chaos that you had to endure in such a short period of time. Although, silence has never been a good friend to your overworked mind, as it allowed you to stew inside your own head for much too long––and you have found in your 20 years of existence that it is probably for the best that you are not left without external stimulation for too long.

But here you are, forced to do exactly that. You would have engaged in some conversation with Namjoon to stop yourself from getting in over your head, but you are afraid of what sort of embarrassing topics might spew out of your mouth if you do. Heaven forbid that you start geeking out on him about your unhealthy obsession of collecting miniature glass horse figurines––that is a secret best kept between yourself and the tentacle monster under your bed.

You begin reflecting on the events from the past two weeks, replaying them second by agonizing second and ruminating on the state that your pitiful young adult life has become. The more you allow these memories to simmer, the more you slowly realize the weight of the accumulated stress that has long since made you hunch over like a goblin.

Hoseok and Jimin’s argument comes to the forefront of your mind, the unexpected heat coming from both of them confusing you to no end. You still don’t know the source of their ire towards one another, but what baffles you the most is how you could have missed it in the first place. Sure, you had thought they were at least more than acquaintances; one does not simply challenge a near stranger to a dance off in the middle of a library three times a week, for more than two months and counting. Friends might have been a stretch, though you can’t say you’re familiar with how their schedules look like outside your tutoring sessions together.

The question is though… should you interfere? Normally, you would have stayed far away from anyone else’s drama––you just aren’t the type of person to stick their noses in other people’s business. Yet somehow, you feel as if your poem was the catalyst to this violent chain reaction, that you have inadvertently caused the foundation of a precarious building to explode and bring the whole thing crashing down. To think that your silly love poem for a boy who hardly knows that you exist has become the center of so many people’s lives… the entire thing is giving you a headache.

Speaking of headaches… you should probably confront Namjoon about the poem as well. It is probably best that you plan your approach better this time, seeing as how your two previous attempts have been anything but stellar. Namjoon can’t be that difficult to convince, right? And even if he does see right through you, he doesn’t seem like the type of person who would laugh cruelly at you in the event that he figures out that you are the author. Not like Seokjin, at least. Luckily no one is like Seokjin, the fucking rat bastard that he is.

(In the distance, Seokjin has the sudden animalistic urge to slip anthrax in your milk tea the next time he sees you.)

You glance at Namjoon from the corner of your eye, definitely not ogling the way his arms flex as he loads the final couple of plates. The breath catches in your throat when you realize that some time while you were busy swimming in your junkyard of a brain, he had rolled up his sleeves up to his forearms, displaying his god-like veins for the eyes of the deplorable (you) to feast upon.

Your mouth feels dry, even though other parts of you feel more moist than you remember. Oh god, now is not the time to remember how hot this fucking nerd is.

Despite the fact that your biological clock is screaming “HORNY HOUR” at your monkey brain, Namjoon continues to be thankfully unaware of your internal panic. He closes the dishwasher door shut, clicking it on with a relieved sigh. He gives you a megawatt smile and makes your heart leap into a somersault, probably knocking around some vital organs along the way.

“Thanks so much for the help, Y/N! Couldn’t have done it without you!” he cheers, clapping you roughly on the shoulder. You wheeze under the impact, waving away his concern despite feeling like your lungs have probably slipped out of your asshole.

“It’s no problem, Namjoon…” you sigh, gazing sadly as Namjoon begins to do a final sweep of the kitchen before inevitably going to sign off for the day. You know your window of opportunity has already closed, and if you had not spent so much time staring at his beautiful man tiddies, you are sure you could have been a little more productive with him. Curse him and his damn chest.

But now, at least you’ll have more time to think of how to approach him and bring up the poem when you aren’t, like, seriously decaffeinated and on the cusp of a heart attack. You are about to bid him farewell with your tail between your legs when his hands cup your cheeks, catching you off guard.

You splutter incomprehensibly, arms flapping about like a fish out of water. “Wha––?”

“Oh, I forgot to mention! After my hours here at the senior home, I have the afternoon shift at the daycare center near our university and I was wondering if you’d like to come with me?”

If Namjoon’s cool, large hands holding your face like a delicate flower had caught you off guard, then his sudden invitation only exacerbated the furious blush blooming across your neck like a rash.

So what do you say?

“Meep,” is what you say, like the verbose poet that you are. Y/N, renowned campus poet, has the vocabulary of a five year old.

“Is that a yes?” Namjoon smiles, letting go off you in favor of looping his gangly arms around your waist. Another unflattering noise escapes your throat at his proximity and his firmness. “That’s so great! The kids love seeing new faces, and I bet they’d love to have a pretty girl around instead of plain ol’ me all the time!”

You gape at him. Did he just say…

“P-pretty?”

“Yea, sure!” Namjoon says, his stupid grin still on his stupidly handsome face. He does not appear to be embarrassed at all by his brazenness, which is starting to make you think he is either a well-seasoned flirt or just plain oblivious to the implications of his own words. Knowing him, you wouldn’t put it past him that the latter might be the reason.

Compliments and unintentional flirting aside, you really did not feel up to another harrowing experience with Namjoon at one of his other volunteering stunts. You are but a woman in clown shoes, and even the most seasoned clowns must have their rest.

“Listen, Namjoon… I don’t think I can go with you. I have to go, uh,” you pause, your hamster brain working a mile a minute. “Water… my dog? No, I mean… feed my plant.” You cringe, mentally slapping yourself.

Namjoon, the sneaky bastard, hits you with his strongest and most potent puppy dog eyes in his arsenal. It was super effective! “Please, Y/N? I won’t take too much of your time! Just play with the kids for two hours and I promise to leave you alone!”

C’mon, Y/N. Focus. Are you the type of woman to break down her defenses for the wilful fancies of any man? You’re made of stronger stuff than this. Surely you can look him in the eye and tell him straight to his face that you would prefer to go home and rest on this beautiful Saturday than go frolicking with a bunch of snot-nosed children––

“Oh, sure. Why the hell not?” you say, like the dumb fucking idiot that you are.

Namjoon’s dimples deepen even further. You glare menacingly at them, knowing full well that they were entirely the cause of your weakness.

“Thank you so much, Y/N! The kids will really appreciate your presence! C’mon, we haven’t got time to lose!”

Namjoon does not even give you the time to fully comprehend your own pitiful existence before he nearly tugs your arm out of its socket as he maneuvers you to the local daycare just a few minutes away from the senior home. You don’t get to say your farewells to any of the seniors or your old work colleagues, but it might be for the best… You will need all the sanity left in your body to survive the rest of the day with Namjoon.

On the bright side, that means you’ll have the chance to talk to him about the poem, though you’re still hesitant to do so with how badly your previous stunts had ended up. But then again, when else would you get another good opportunity to talk to your crush acquaintance about this? You suppose you’ll just have to wait and see what happens next, and hope for the best.

You have been at the daycare for almost three hours now, and there are still no signs of you ever bringing up the poem. You might as well sign your last will and testament with the macaroni art supplies currently decorating your body, making you look like a morbid pasta dish monster from hell. You hope to god that the sticky stuff all over your skin is just cheese… White, rubbery scented cheese…

“Ain’t this fun?” Namjoon calls out from somewhere, presumably under the mass of ten or so toddlers all climbing him like a tree. You are caught in a state of déjà vu as the children start feasting upon any exposed areas of skin that their kid-sized incisors can find.

You just wanted to talk about the fucking poem for fuck’s sake! Instead, you have to deal with thirty 2-foot children and one 6-foot manchild during one of your only free days in a week.

A miniature demon tugs your sleeve, forcing you to tear your eyes away from Namjoon’s slow demise. You bend down to the little gremlin’s height, mouth twitching upwards in what you hope is a somewhat decent smile. Judging by the kid’s unimpressed face, you doubt it.

“Yes?”

“Miss Y/N? Can you tell your boyfriend that Jake peed in the ballpit again? Aera slipped on the puddle and now she’s crying and disturbing the younger kids.”

Record scratch, freeze frame. Now, we don’t have time to unpack all of that. Out of all the things the kid had said, you are sure that his implication that you were Namjoon’s girlfriend should not have been on the top of your list of priorities, and yet here you are, your cheeks as flushed as a baboon’s ass.

“He’s not––We’re not––” you stammer, waving your hands as you try to explain to this unenthused six year old that what she said was entirely impossible. “Namjoon is just a friend!”

You turn to look for the man in question, desperate for him to back you up when you realize he is no longer there. Confused, you leave the huffing child in search for him. You leave the main playroom and search the nearby nurseries, the kitchen, the bathroom… all of them with no Namjoon in sight. Just so you can cover all your bases, you decide to check one of the supply closets too, not really expecting to find anything except––

“Namjoon? What the fu––fudge?” You quickly correct yourself, noticing that not only is Kim Namjoon inside the cramped broom closet, but he is also surrounded by five other children huddled around what appears to be a series of tupperwares connected together by plastic straws.

Namjoon hastens a glance at you, before refocusing his attention back onto what he deems to be more important. He nudges his shoulder against the smallest of the bunch, stage whispering into her ear. “Jihyo, did you bet the three lollipops on Ant #3?”

Jihyo shakes her head, looking mildly offended. “Oppa, do you think I’m dumb? I bet all of my chocolate bars on Ant #6.”

Namjoon whistles lowly, impressed. “All-in? You’re one smart lady.”

You clear your throat. “Namjoon.”

Namjoon has the audacity to hold a finger up to silence you. “Give me a sec… Okay, Seungcheol. You said ten hard candies for Ant #2?”

“Namjoon. Are you seriously running a gambling ring in a daycare?”

He peers up at you, smiling sheepishly. “I’m, uh… Teaching them about capitalism.” He deposits the candy bets into his pocket before starting the timer on his phone. The children begin to cheer raucously, little fists pumping up as they watch their bets race towards a slice of cake.

“I can’t believe this,” you groan, wanting nothing more than the earth to swallow you whole.

Eventually, Namjoon exits the closet, gently closing the door. The shouts of the children become muted immediately. When you gaze inquisitively at him, all he does is shrug his shoulders. “What? Secret clubs allow people to explore their interests.”

At this point, you don’t really want to argue anymore. And so, the hectic day goes by, full of running after the children and occasionally having to reel Namjoon in when he does something bordering on negligence. The parents slowly start filtering in by five in the afternoon, most of whom pat Namjoon affectionately on the back and thanking him for his stellar daycare service.

“Oh, Namjoon! My little Jihyo absolutely adores you! She hardly wants to leave whenever I come to pick her up.” Jihyo’s mother smiles, slipping a small tip into Namjoon’s waiting palm. The little shit pockets it, bowing graciously at her.

“All in a day’s work, madame. I just love children, you know?” he says, sighing dramatically.

From behind her mother, Jihyo gorges herself on her prize winnings, shoving a whole packet of M&M’s into her mouth. She swallows them quickly when her mother turns to bring her home.

“I hate this,” you say to yourself, smiling through the pain.

“Oh, before I forget!” Jihyo’s mother dashes back inside, startling you. She approaches you, grasping your hands in hers and shaking it wildly until you can hear your joints pop out of their sockets. “Your name is Y/N right? Thank you for taking care of Namjoon, too. It’s so nice to see that he’s finally snagged a girl as pretty as you.”

It is a testament to how dead inside you truly are by how nonplussed you are by their unfounded accusation. At this point, they could congratulate you on your recent engagement to Namjoon and you probably wouldn’t bat an eye.

“Thanks.” All in a day’s work of being a madman’s little bitch for the day.

After the last child is taken away, your Saturday finally ends. There had been no poem discussion and no progress made; only your respect from one of your long-time crushes being whittled away like the soaps on those ASMR channels until you are left with useless cubes of Irish Spring scented granules.

On your way home, you pass by Seokjin sitting languidly on the bench outside the coffee shop that you had originally intended to go to this morning. The closed sign greets you impetuously, and your wounds are salted further by the sheer presence of the most annoying man on the planet.

Seokjin sips on his venti iced Americano, Gucci sunglasses tipped downward on his nose. An odd, high pitched windshield wiper sound escapes his lips, and you belatedly realize that he must be his version of laughter. “Y/N. So nice to see you. I’m guessing that you just came out of a… fishy affair?”

You grind your teeth, flexing forward with the intent of hitting the rat bastard. Fish crackers fall out of your hair in clumps from your movement. “I’ll eat your toes if you say another word about this.”

You say that, but you know that there will be photos of you out on Facebook by the time your head meets your pillow for the night, as you hear the telltale sound of a camera shutter go off as you limp sadly back home.

The following Monday, you resolve to talk to Namjoon during your History of Music class together.

Now normally, you would never subject yourself to sitting near Namjoon in class. No, it is not because of your debilitating crush, nor his eccentric personality, nor something unexpected like insanely toxic body odor (which he does not have, by the way. He always smells alarmingly like cotton candy.) In fact, nobody likes to sit near Namjoon, made apparent by the two row radius of empty chairs around him. As much as everyone adores and idolizes him for his talent, no one can stand his propensity to overachieve like the infuriating know-it-all that he is. His hand is perpetually up in the air, begging to be picked for recitation, always with something profound to say.

“Sir, I don’t think your notes are correct. From my research, that type of music would not have existed until the 1600s––”

“Namjoon,” your professor seethes, Powerpoint clicker clutched tightly in his fists. His left eyebrow twitches concerningly as he tries to calm his breathing. “I would prefer it greatly if you do not question the actual expert in this area, is that okay with you?”

Yeah. He is definitely not someone you’d want to sit beside.

Though, he really makes it hard not to want to be around him. Despite all the imperfect parts of his personality, Namjoon always looks like the cover model of what a perfect college boyfriend should dress like. Terrible dyejob aside, his hair is slicked back in a fashionable way, revealing his beautiful forehead for all of humanity to behold. He is wearing a fitted graphic tee under a denim jacket, with loose brown slacks that look good on his endlessly long legs. To top it off, his signature wire-frame glasses sit daintily on his nose, making him appear as smart as he is.

You are suddenly reminded of the true scale of your crush on him as sweat begins to build on your neck and down your backside. How the hell are you going to approach him now that you are perfectly aware of how good he looks? It is people like Kim Namjoon that remind you of this universal truth: attractive people only exist to cause the less fortunate to forget how to use their basic motor skills.

Focus. Remember how much of a crackhead he was last Saturday? Okay, retain that information. Remember how fucking stupid he is, and this will be much easier on your heart and your loins.

Taking a deep breath, you make your way to where he is seated, right at the front of the class. It is a long way down the auditorium to where he is, and you can feel the stares of a few of your classmates as you make the treacherous journey right into the proverbial lion’s maw. You do your best to ignore them, quietly sliding up next to him and waiting for him to notice your presence.

From the corner of your eye, you can see that he is jotting something frantically on a notebook, a mess of words in more languages than you can speak decorating every available space on the smooth white pages. At the top of the paper, you can see what might be a tentative title for a song, perhaps? You can’t be too entirely sure, as Namjoon is part of so many clubs and organizations that he might as well be writing next week’s lunch menu for the cafeteria.

(Highly doubtful as Namjoon has a reputation for allowing inflammable things to catch on fire, but you wouldn’t put it past him to at least try and apply for a culinary position.)

It seems that Namjoon is too immersed in his writing to greet you himself, so you have to be the one to steel yourself and strike a conversation with him instead.

“Uh. Hey… Namjoon?” Smooth like butter. Seokjin would be proud.

Namjoon doesn’t reply. He keeps scribbling along, humming something indistinct under his breath.

You clear your throat. “Namjoon?”

No response. Again, “Hello?” You wave a hand in front of his face. His blinking slows for a second, but he continues to ignore you.

Starting to get pissed off, you huff quietly to yourself before bringing your palm backwards and slapping him upside the head. “HEY PANINI HEAD! YOU FUCKING IN THERE OR WHAT?”

That manages to bring him out of his headspace, thankfully. “Huzzat?” Namjoon jumps, cradling the back of his neck gingerly as he stares at you, confused. Recognition filters through his eyes as he realizes belatedly what had just happened. He blushes slightly. “Oops.”

“Oops is right. Were you really going to ignore me for the rest of the class if I hadn’t slapped you?”

Namjoon shrugs, grinning in that cute goofy way that he does. “Sorry. ‘M not used to people sitting beside me, is all. Glad to have a friend in this class though! Have you always been in this class?”

“Yea, but I usually sit in the back.”

Namjoon nods, turning back to his notebook. “Sorry for ignoring you. I really didn’t mean it. When I’m in the middle of writing, it’s kind of hard to get me out of my own brain. Plus, this draft is due in two weeks and I’ve scrapped three pages worth of lyrics already… I’m kind of in a panic right now.”

You peek over his arm, trying your best to decipher some of his words. Your interest is piqued, always having wanted to see his draft notebook ever since that first time he showed you Moonchild almost a year ago. “Lungs have capsized… I am drowning in my own body… Wow, those are some dark stuff.”

“You think so?” Namjoon squints at his own messy handwriting. “I got inspired by the fish in the aquarium I volunteer in. I’m actually excited to go back there, because I want to play it for the fish and see if they like it.”

“Isn’t it better to play it at the daycare of senior home so you can actually get… human feedback?”

Namjoon gasps, hand to his heart, offended. “How dare you assume that fish can’t give quality feedback!”

“Right,” you cough, raising your hands in defeat. How dare you, indeed. “Sorry.”

Namjoon sniffs, closing his notebook just as the professor walks in to start the class. “You better be. The fishies get really offended when people say stuff like that.”

The professor begins the moment he sets down his things, so you know you won’t have time to bring up the poem, not when Namjoon is already starting to fall into his overachieving know-it-all student persona. You tap him lightly on the shoulder, gaining his attention.

“Hey, I have to ask you something later after class. Will you stay behind for a few moments?”

“Sure,” Namjoon replies cheerily, flipping on his laptop to start taking down notes. He stops in his tracks before gazing warily at you. “Hold on. If this is about the fishies again…”

You have to resist the urge to roll your eyes, so you sigh instead. “No, Namjoon. This isn’t about the fishies.”

Appeased, Namjoon returns to listening attentively to the professor drone on about dead musicians and their impact on musical culture. You hardly take any notes, still nervous about talking to Namjoon about the poem. What would be the best way to approach the subject, you wonder? Your previous attempts with Seokjin and Hoseok had featured a lot of yelling and arguing, and you would prefer not to leave a bad impression on Namjoon of all people. Additionally, you don’t want to know what arguing with Namjoon would entail, because you have a strong feeling that any debate with him will only leave you second guessing your entire existence with how good he is at flipping the subject. Or, you could always kick him in the knees, but that would be like overpowering a baby––you’d be a monster for taking advantage of him.

The short one hour lecture flies by quicker than you would like. To your surprise, Namjoon only interrupts the professor twice, so you suppose that’s a win for everyone else.

“Alright class. Please remember that the research paper regarding 17th century music is due on the Friday before your break,” your professor says. He points a stern look at all of you, and maybe you’re imagining it, but somehow you feel like he pauses just a second longer when he passes his gaze over you. “And please, try not to send your paper to the entire student body to air your secret little crushes like a bunch of lovestruck idiots.”

Your ears turn an unflattering shade of red as most of the students chuckle at his little joke, all of them probably not knowing that the lovestruck idiot was just a few seats away.

“C’mon, Namjoon.” You sigh, shrugging on your backpack as you wait for him to finish packing up. Namjoon watches you curiously, brows furrowed.

“You seem dejected. Are you having trouble with class? Is that what you wanted to talk about?”

“N-not… not really,” you say, shaking your head. “Can we talk about this outside? People for the next class are starting to come in.”

Namjoon follows you dutifully from behind, and you can hear him bid his farewells to a few giggling freshmen as the two of you exit the lecture hall. They coo openly in his presence, with one of them bold enough to compliment his fairly generous bosom, her fingers twitching as if she is only one push away from grabbing them by the fistful.

You walk towards the small cafe near the entrance of the building, grabbing one of the empty chairs and gesturing for Namjoon to sit across from you. He does as you say, confusion still gracing his handsome features.

“So, will you tell me why you’ve called me out here now?” Namjoon asks. Before you can respond, however, he reaches into his backpack and pulls out a half squished sandwich. He offers you the less crushed half, like the gentleman that he is, but you find it hard to accept when you feel like your stomach is turning inside out with nerves.

“Umm… How do I say this…” You groan, leg bouncing so incessantly that the poor table begins to shake. Namjoon doesn’t even try to stop his other sandwich half from sliding over, instead giving you a concerned glance.

Fuck it. Better to rip the band-aid off in one swoop, right?

“Y/N––?”

“Namjoon, are you aware that people think someone wrote a stupid love poem about you?”

His previously open mouth clamps shut, then. He stares at you in confusion, a dollop of mayonnaise hanging off his jutting chin. “What?”

Panicking slightly, you’re quick to continue your train of thought, probably to your own detriment. “NOT that the poem is about you, by the way. Well, it could be? No? I DIDN’T WRITE IT!” Pause for heavy breathing. “A-anyway, that’s not the point… I just wanted to ask if you were… umm… aware of it. Yeah. That’s it.”

Ohhhh my god. You stupid idiot. Fuck fuck fuck fuck you fucking stupid piece of shit ass tit fuck what other swear words are there oh yeah FUCK!!!

In the midst of your personal mental beatdown, you fail to see Namjoon’s genuine look of confusion, his head tilted to the side as he watches your face turn red. He chews on his sandwich thoughtfully. “Uh? No? I’m not aware? I really have no idea what you are talking about, Y/N.”

You finally stop swearing at yourself. “Wait, really?”

Namjoon nods his head. “Really. What poem are you talking about?”

“Please tell me you’re joking. I don’t really like being teased; I get enough of that from Seokjin.”

“No, I’m serious!” Namjoon raises his hands in surrender. “I wouldn’t joke about something that is clearly giving you distress.”

“It’s not causing me distress!” You screech back, voice cracking from your tone going up a pitch. You clear your throat. “Um. Wait. So that means you haven’t heard about the huge rumor going around about a love poem being about you?”

He shrugs his shoulders, lips pursed. “Not a clue. Am I supposed to?”

Huh. You stare at the imbecile before you, his previously handsome looks starting to look less appealing by the minute. Is this shithead for real? Did you really spend hours worrying over how you would approach him about the poem, only to find out that he has no clue what you’re talking about? Like, how is it even possible for him not to know? You can’t even spend a minute doing anything without someone bringing up that stupid mistake of a poem. How the hell did you ever have a crush on him?

“Pardon? Did you say crush something?”

“Oh shit,” you curse, slapping a palm to your mouth. Did you fucking say that out loud?

“Sorry,” Namjoon swallows thickly, a large bite of his sandwich visibly going down his gullet. “I was chewing too loudly so I didn’t hear you properly.”

You heave a sigh of relief. Okay, maybe being an idiot has its benefits.

“It’s fine. It wasn’t anything important,” you say, already arranging your things to get up and leave. If Namjoon is oblivious to all the poem shenanigans that have been circling campus, then who are you to inform him? All you can hope now is that he remains ignorant of the poem at all, and chalk it up as a success in your book. It’s not like he’s going to be curious to find out more anyway––

“Wait! Don’t go! You’ve piqued my interest now. I wanna know what you were talking about,” Namjoon pipes up, leaning his lanky body sidewards so as to block you from leaving. You halt in your movements, surprised by his sudden inquiry.

Sweat starts to form in the middle of your back at his earnest curiosity. “I––it’s nothing, Namjoon. I was just messing with you. Don’t worry about it.” You laugh nervously.

“I don’t think you were?” Namjoon rubs his chin thoughtfully. “You wouldn’t have been so adamant to call me out here just to be joking.”

“Listen, I really have to go. I have another class soon and I wanna grab lunch before I––”

“You said something about a poem.” He remains undeterred, pulling out his phone. “And it’s about me? Well, not about me, if that’s what you’re saying…”

“Hold up!” You snatch his phone out of his hands, holding it behind you to keep it from his reach. Even though you know his inquisitiveness is not his fault, it doesn’t stop you from wanting to punch him square in his cute little nose. Hell, you don’t recall wanting to fight anyone as much as you do right now.

(Seokjin sneezes somewhere in the distance, feeling offended for whatever reason. “Y/N should only be punching me,” he thinks to himself as he dumps way too much purple dye on this poor lady’s head.)

“Why are you being so weird right now? Give me back my phone!” He pouts at you, not at all knowing that your resolve is already quickly crumbling before him.

“I…” You gulp, foot tapping restlessly as you try to think of what to do. “Okay. Fine, I’ll show you the poem. Just… don’t read too deeply into it, okay? It’s just a stupid thing that got too many people excited over nothing.”

“Sure,” Namjoon nods his head, acquiescing quickly. “I don’t really like paying attention to much of the rumors and trends that happen on campus. I just want to see what this poem is all about.”

“Just… don’t let it get to your head,” you mutter, returning his phone to him. You direct him to the university confessions group page, watching as his fingers fumbled with his keyboard. Eventually, he gets to the post (pinned to the top, forever mocking you for your stupidity) and reads the short piece in record time.

There is a pause where neither of you speak. You know he has finished reading it from the way he has started to scroll down to the comments, though he quickly jumps back to the top when you glare at him to stop. He leans back into his chair, closing his phone and stares at you expressionlessly.

You click your nails across the coffee shop table as you observe him suspiciously, his lack of response making you more nervous. “Well?”

The left side of his mouth quirks up––but not in a way that might suggest glee or satisfaction––and he stays frozen like that for a bit. You have the sudden urge to wave your hand in front of him to check if he’s fine, and being the type of person to submit to your urges, you do as you please.

Thankfully, he snaps out of it, blinking quickly as if he’s forgotten that you were there. He scratches the back of his neck, embarrassed. “Oh, yeah. The poem, uh… How do I put it…”

“What?” What on earth could he have a problem with? Does he genuinely think the poem might be about him? “If you’re starting to think that the poem may be about you––”

“No, no, that’s not it.” Namjoon opens his phone again, peering at the poem questioningly. “I was just going to say that this poem is a lot less impressive than you were hyping it up to be.”

Excuse me??????? He did not fucking just say that.

“You did not just fucking say that,” you verbalize, glowering at him. You can feel the fumes start to steam out of your ears, but Namjoon remains oblivious (as per usual) to your emotions. He just hums, shrugging his shoulders with his nose upturned in the air, as if he had just smelled something horrible.

“It’s just… the meter is all messed up… Like, I’m all about free verse or whatever, but I can tell the author is trying waaaay too hard to keep whatever rhythm they had going on in the first verse.” He scrolls through the poem some more, before stopping somewhere in the middle. He shows you one of your favorite verses with a look of something akin to disdain. “And what’s up with all the moon references? That theme is so overused.”

“YOUR MIXTAPE LITERALLY HAS A SONG CALLED MOONCHILD! THAT’S WHY PEOPLE THINK THE POEM IS ABOUT YOU!” You explode, spittle flying everywhere from the force of your shout. A group of freshmen sitting nearby jump up in surprise, though most of the older, more dead-eyed college students do not even bat an eye at your spectacle. This university is full of cuckoos, is what they are probably thinking.

The biggest cuckoo of them all looks at you defensively, frowning somewhat irritably. Namjoon continues, “Yeah, but I used the moon in my song in a classy way! I would be offended if someone would write this poem for me after being inspired by my song.”

Is it possible for blood to boil inside your veins? Because you’re really starting to feel heat trail up your back up to your neck, causing you to see nothing but red and the tantalizing vision of your hands around his neck. Easy, Y/N. You can’t afford anger management therapy; you have a tuition to pay.

In all seriousness though, you cannot take this any longer. You have suffered long enough while having to follow Namjoon around like a bitch for two days, and if karma still wants to use the strap on you, then she’s going to have to do it some other day because you cannot physically stand being around Namjoon for another ten seconds if you can help it. And this is coming from someone who is around Kim Seokjin at least twice a week, so it is obvious that your patience and sanity is truly at its limit.

“I’m done.” You are barely able to keep yourself from slamming your head against the table. Instead, you stand up hastily, chair legs screeching against the tiled floor. You shoulder your bag quickly, waving at him without even turning to face him. The sooner you get away from him, the better. “You can think what you want. Just live your life, man. I’m done.”

“Okay? Well, have a nice day, Y/N!” Namjoon calls out a cheery goodbye, though his tone obviously still sounds confused even as you walk further and further away from him, a trainwreck of a human being. You resolve to yourself to call Hana the next morning to ask her to slip some opened sweets into his jean pocket so the ants at the daycare might climb out of their shelter to bite him in the balls.

How did you ever have a crush on that bastard? I guess that mystery will have to remain… unsolved.

Unluckily, your mood does not improve after lunch, nor do you calm down after your next class either. In fact, you are still steaming when you arrive to your tutoring session with Hoseok, so much so that you have completely forgotten to be worried about him after the events of last Friday.

(Record scratch, freeze frame. Pause. What the hell happened last Friday again? Your overworked brain cells can only handle one stressful event at a time, so you suppose that problem with Hoseok and Jimin will have to be solved another day.)

Hoseok, the caring boy that he is, also forgets to retain his moodiness from Friday’s argument when he spots you looking like you were about to pop a blood vessel at any moment.

Hoseok sits hesitantly in front of you, even placing his textbooks gently onto the table as if any sudden sounds might cause you to self-combust and splatter your guts all over the library floor. The only thing really keeping you from doing exactly that is because you wouldn’t want poor Jungkook the library assistant to have to clean up your mess.

“Umm… Hey, Y/N. You okay? You look kind of… red.” Hoseok says carefully, smile twitching on his face.

The suddenness at which you slam your hands on the table causes not only Hoseok, but also Jungkook who is three whole bookshelves away, to jump up in surprise. The former makes a terrified scream to accompany his leap into the air, staring at your frantically with his fists held up in defense.

“AHH? Y/N, what’s going on––”

“SHUT UP!” You point a finger menacingly at him, making him shriek once more. Your jaw is clenched, teeth grinding audibly. “YOU FUCKING KNOW WHAT, HOSEOK? I’LL WRITE THE NICEST POEM IN THE ENTIRE WORLD FOR YOU, OKAY? YOU DESERVE IT! FUCK WHAT ANYONE ELSE THINKS! I’M A GOOD WRITER AND NOTHING KIM NAMJOON SAYS WILL CHANGE THAT!”

Hoseok’s mouth opens, agape. He doesn’t know how to respond, not quite understanding what you were saying in the first place. A lot of angry words spilled from your lips in such a short amount of time, and Hoseok was more impressed with your flow than anything. Were you a rapper, by any chance?

Unaware of Hoseok’s musings, you huff loudly to yourself, slamming open your lecture notes and shoving them aggressively towards him. “ALSO, I TOOK THE LIBERTY OF WRITING A REVIEWER FOR YOUR MIDTERM! PLEASE READ THROUGH THEM IF YOU HAVE ANY QUESTIONS!”

“Umm… Thanks?” Hoseok says, not really sure which part of your loud declarations he is specifically thanking you for. He sneaks a glance at the front desk, thankful that it is only meek little Jungkook in charge today and not the cranky older librarian who already has a personal vendetta against you and your tutoring group for being public nuisances (not that she was unjustly pointing fingers, of course).

Your mental collapse aside, the rest of his tutoring session goes smoothly, with Hoseok still walking on eggshells around you just in case you might feel like exploding again. You know, for fun or something. Although, he does end up asking if he can leave a few minutes early, saying something about a paper due at the end of the week. The excuse doesn’t make you bat an eye until Jimin arrives for his own session, his grin faltering when he sees his hyung not there to greet him with their usual dance battle in the library.

“Ah… Guess Hoseok-hyung really is still mad over what happened…” Jimin sighs, slumping into his chair. He thumbs his textbook thoughtfully, tongue sticking out like a puppy.

“I’m sure it’ll blow over soon,” you say hopefully, though your heart isn’t quite in it either. Coughing awkwardly, you pluck his textbook out of his hands, desperate to talk about something else other than your crumbling interpersonal relationships. You pause at the page, however, before staring incredulously back at Jimin.

“Jimin.”

“Hmm?” Jimin is still listless, head pillowed by his arms on the table. “What?”

“This is a book on differential calculus. I’m supposed to teach you about writing academic essays.”

“Oh yeah,” Jimin sighs, closing his eyes. “I stole that book from some freshman on the way here. The English textbook I usually bring is with Taehyung right now.”

You pause. Actually, now that you think about it… “Jimin, do you actually even go to this university? What the hell is your major, even?”

“Wha-?” Jimin yawns, fanning his mouth with his hand. He blinks sleepily at you with a big, doofy grin. “Sorry, I played MapleStory for hours last night and I haven’t gotten much sleep. Can I just sleep during this session? I’ll still pay you or whatever…” he trails off, stretching like a cat under a patch of sunlight. Before you know it, the soft sound of Jimin’s snoring fills the silence.

Thankfully, Monday ends without much more commotion. You may have come out of this experience a little bit more broken inside, but hey! That’s what character development is all about, babey. You are just glad that Tuesdays are usually your quietest days, as you only have two classes to worry about. It is also one of the days when you have Creative Writing with Sera, who usually manages to rope you in to get greasy fast food after class. Despite the traumatic experience that particular class has indirectly inflicted upon you, your usual zeal and excitement does not diminish in the slightest. After all, writing will always be your first love, so there isn’t any way some silly poem mishap will make you detest it.

Hopefully nothing else will go wrong, because you aren’t so sure your sanity can take much more of a pounding.

(Fwip. Do you hear that? That’s the sound of karma putting on her strap.)

“Alright class, see you guys on Thursday. Don’t forget that we have a quiz at the beginning of class on Thursday, so please don’t be late.” Professor Puth says, his eyelids blinking out of sync. You hate to be someone who assumes what other people do during their off days as it is none of your business, though the perpetual cloud of marijuana that clings around him can only do so much to mask what his recreational activities might be.

“Dude, I think Prof Puth is finding Nirvana soon,” Sera says loudly, earning the giggles of a few classmates nearby.

“I’d be surprised if he could even find the exit of this building,” you snort, just as the man in question trips over air and nearly faceplants on the ground. Like the model students that you are, you both pretend to be busy doing something else, leaving some other poor soul to help your professor.

Two girls that you vaguely remember from somewhere approach Professor Puth. They are quick to help him straighten up, if his groaning and gasping are anything to go by. He thanks them gruffly and waves them off, but the girls seem adamant to stay put.

“Professor, I have a question…” One of the girls asks, nervously tugging on her ponytail. Her friend giggles surreptitiously beside her, urging her to continue. Their odd demeanor causes signals to go off in your brain, telling you to stop and listen. You tug on Sera’s hand, halting her from leaving.

“Wait. I wanna hear what they’re gonna ask,” you mutter, ignoring Sera’s complaints about being hungry. She can wait for her McNuggets for another five minutes, no matter how much she pretends that she’s starving. You had seen her eat two whole burritos before coming into class today.

Professor Puth raises his brow. “Yes? What do you need?”

“We were just wondering if you could… tell us anything about the identity of the author from that poem?” The girl manages to get all of it out in a rush, cheeks flushed as her friend nods fervently beside her.

“Yea, Prof! We’ve been dying to know! The suspense is killing us, knowing that the mystery author is in one of your classes!” The other girl continues, glittery excitement practically exuding out of her in waves.

Professor Puth sighs, leaning heavily on his desk. He appears about as done as you feel. “Listen… You can badger me all you want, but there’s no way I can tell you. Privacy laws prevent us from sharing information like that without prior consent, even though that student in question might have accidentally sent her assignment to the entire school.” You might be imagining it, but you think Professor Puth points you with a knowing look. You gulp, hastily bowing your head and pretending to fiddle with your phone.

“Aww, Prof! It’s been days and the university hasn’t shut up about it! Surely one of the theories on who the author and muse are must be true, right? You can tell us that, at least.”

You can’t bear to keep listening any longer, though Sera has started to become more interested in the conversation as it progressed. “Wait, wait… I wanna hear the Prof’s opinion,” she says, grinning despite your nails digging crescents into her arm as you try to pull her away.

“No can do! Remember, I have your freshman Halloween pictures saved on a harddrive, and you wouldn’t want me to accidentally send that to the entire student body as well, would you?”

That manages to snap her out of it. Quickly, the two of you leave the lecture hall and away from possible discovery by your poem-frenzied classmates. You are also relieved to be able to breathe in fresh air once more, after being stuck in that class surrounded by liberal art students for two hours. You always do feel a little bit more relaxed after class with Puth, although that might just be from all the secondhand drug use.

Perhaps the fumes really did dull your reflexes, as it takes a while before you realize that Sera has been nudging your shoulder.

When you finally glanced at her, there is a sneaky grin on her face: never a good sign. “So,” she begins, a singsong quality in her voice

After having been her friend for long enough, you have become adept at telling what Sera is going to say next. Call it intuition or whatever, but you like to think of it is a self-defense mechanism. As much as she is your friend, she does love digging into your personal life like it is the cover story of some shitty tabloid. You have to prepare yourself to be interrogated.

“You’re going to ask about the poem, aren’t you?”

Sera rolls her eyes, like you shouldn’t have even asked. “Duh, of course I am. What else would I want to talk about?”

You shrug your shoulders, pretending to think. “I don’t know. Maybe you could have asked ‘Hey, Y/N! How’s your mom been? Have you been eating and drinking well?’ You know, like a normal person.”

“Well, firstable, your mom is literally my friend on Facebook and I saw her go out to that bougie high tea place with Jennie’s mom the other day, so I know she’s fine,” Sera says as the two of you round a corner, heading closer to the parking lot where her car is. “And secondable, you don’t fucking drink water, because you like pretending to be a dehydrated piece of jerky.”

“I just like drinking apple juice, okay? Water is weird,” you say defensively, kicking a pebble as you walk.

“Nah, you’re weird,” Sera counters, ever the creative debater. She remains undeterred, however. “So. Any updates on the poem situation or am I going to have tickle the details out of you?”

You groan, pushing her away from your sensitive sides. “Please don’t… I have no upper body strength and I won’t be able to push you off!”

“That’s the point.” Sera laughs, pinching your cheek. She snatches her hand away, only narrowly escapes getting bitten by you. “Why don’t we skip my torture methods then and go straight to the juicy bits? It’s been ages since I’ve seen you!”

“What if nothing has happened since I last saw you?” You grumble, miffed that she really isn’t letting it go. You just want to have one relaxing day, is that too much to ask?

Apparently, it is. Relaxation is a rare commodity these days. Sera snorts, patting you condescendingly on the back. “Nonsense. You’ve got that post-mental breakdown glow around you. You look absolutely radiant with stress!”

The conversations pauses for a bit when you make it to the parking lot. You don’t have to walk too far, as her car is parked relatively close to the exit, which is just another display of how lucky Sera often is in comparison to you. While your unfortunate plebeian ass is busy drowning in shit, Sera is off somewhere aboard a yacht, getting a massage from some Instagram thot.

She hops into the driver’s seat, waiting for you to put your seatbelt on before backing out with one hand on the wheel. “McDonalds?” she asks, though it is pretty much a given that is where you are going. The last time you both tried diverging from your usual hang out spot, you got intense food poisoning from eating at Chipotle. Sera came out completely fine though, that lucky bitch.

She continues her questions on the drive there, and you relent by telling her most of what has happened to you over the past few days. You gloss over the argument between Hoseok and Jimin, not really wanting their spat to suddenly go viral on Facebook as well. Everything else, however––

“Wait, so you talked to Kim Namjoon? The Kim Namjoon? The Namjoon that you had an embarrassing crush on during our first year?” Sera laughs maniacally, almost driving off into the wrong lane. Luckily, you are quick to latch onto the wheel, saving the two of you from becoming roadkill.

“Watch where you’re going!”

“No, but Y/N! That’s literally so fucking funny!” Sera’s laughter has simmered to a giggle, despite the fact that she is still trying (and failing) to furtively glance your way when you hit a stoplight. “Is he like how you remember? God, do you remember how you were after you first met him? All starstruck because your senpai showed you a draft of his single? ‘Oh, Sera! He has the most amaaaazing flow! I’m going to suck his di––’”

“Shut up!” You whine, slapping her in embarrassment. “Believe me, that crush has died, along with any respect I may have had for him. Men are scum, and I’m going to only date girls from now on.”

“Fine by me! More dick to suck for me, I guess.” Sera teases, whistling innocently. Bold of her to assume that there is any innocent or pure bone in her body; you’ve seen her thirst tweets and no amount of holy water can cure the disease that your vision must have sustained.

“I just want the rumors to die down… It would make my life way more bearable.” You murmur to yourself, sliding down your seat.

Sera is silent for a while. The McDonalds is just within sight, so Sera waits until she has finished parking before she turns to face you fully, uncanny sincerity in her expression. It unnerves you how serious she is, not when you know that this is the same girl who would snort sugar packets if you bet her $5. She places her hands on your shoulder, fixing you with a meaningful look.

“Listen, Y/N. I know all of this is tough right now, but I’m sure it’s going to be alright, okay? The rumor is going to die down soon enough, and everything will be back to normal. Stay strong for now.” Her voice is soothing, sympathy dripping from every word. As mortifying as it is to admit, the tears flow down your cheek effortlessly; perhaps it is the consequence of having to bear this burden on your own for so long without anyone actually telling you that it’s going to be alright.

“Thanks… I think I needed that,” you say after a while, sniffling just a bit. Sera grins fondly at you, wiping your tears.

“No need to thank me. I may be a chaotic shithead, but I’m also your friend.” She unbuckles her seatbelt, gesturing for you to do the same. “C’mon, let’s go in. I’ll even share my nuggets with you.”

Despite her best efforts at comfort, you still feel a little bummed. You allow yourself to wallow in your self-pity for a bit, as McDonalds is a prime location to feel shitty about your life choices anyway. The heart attack inducing food, the barely hygienic facilities, the minimum wage high school employees… Nothing else screamed “I’d rather be dead but it could also be worse” quite like Mickey D’s often did.

You wait by one of the booths while Sera goes off to order for the both of you, leaving you with her phone and other belongings. She promises to let you eat four out of the twenty nugget pieces, which is asking a lot considering who you are dealing with. Sera could probably eat sixty nuggets if she so desired, but only stops herself so she can be physically well enough to continue being a thot. Chasing men all day requires physical fitness, or so she says.

When you go to place her things on the other side of the booth, you notice that Sera had accidentally left her phone unlocked. You can see that she had been previously looking at one of those popular forum sites for your university, where most of her repertoire of gossip is usually sourced from. You aren’t usually the type to frequent those types of pages, with good reason too. That exact forum is the reason of your current stress, where your most private thoughts and feelings were revealed for all to see. Any sort of positive opinion you might have had for that site was immediately dashed the moment that cursed poem was released into the wild.

It kind of pisses you off that Sera still uses that forum despite knowing how much anxiety it has caused you, but then again, there is only so much you can expect from her. Her appetite for drama and chaos is her way of life, her only other hobby aside from writing. You also vaguely recall her saying that she gathers inspiration for her short stories from some of the more outrageous posts made by your fellow schoolmates.

In the end, curiosity gets the best of you as you stare at the open webpage, tantalizing despite the murkiness that lies within. Oh, lighten up. It’s just a confessions page… Besides, you also kind of want to see what people are saying about your poem, and whether the commotion might have died even slightly over time. (Unlikely, but you remain hopeful.)

“Let’s see,” you murmur to yourself, sneaking glances at the counter to see if Sera is close to ordering. She appears to still be next in line to order, so that might give you enough time to read a few of the comments on the post. It doesn’t take you long to find the original post either, since Sera seems to have been perusing the same thing just beforehand.

“Typical Sera... Sympathetic in the streets, a nosey bitch in the sheets.” You snort, scrolling quickly through the comment section. Nothing seems to be out of the ordinary, except for a few overenthusiastic responses from a couple of people who have bombarded the forum so much that it takes you a few moments to navigate past their thread. You catch a few words here and there, mostly the names of the seven possible muses and not so much the names of any of the possible authors. Honestly, you are more than happy with these turn of events, perfectly content as long as your identity never sees the day where it becomes associated with that disaster piece.

You sort the comments by popularity, wanting to know what everyone’s biggest guesses are. You want to remain hopeful, but as the results start to load, the wave of nausea that suddenly hits you may have been the first warning signal that you should probably stop before you read something that you will regret.

posted by u/SeokjinGod [3d ago]:

[+103, -4] i’m really hoping that kim seokjin is the muse of the poem!! has anyone seen the ads for the new play he’s staring in? he totally looks like the lead actor in a romantic comedy ^^

➾ [+54, -69] psh. that idiot, the muse? PLEASE anyone who has ever worked for kim seokjin KNOWS that it’s physically impossible to form a human connection with that man

➾ [+2, -1] lol seconded

posted by u/namuwuchild [1d ago]:

[+88, -3] WAIT why am i not seeing kim namjoon’s name more often T_T he deserves more love!! stream moonchild or else i’ll bite your ankles

➾ [+1, -6] lol i miss when namjoon used to do actual hiphop… fucking hippie dippie go fuck a tree and some crabs while you’re at it

You sneak a look over your shoulder. Sera is at the front of the line, reciting her orders while the harried employee has to quickly punch in the inordinate amount of food items. Okay… While no one’s looking, time to downvote a couple of these and maybe report some of these assholes… No way in hell are you letting anyone think Moonlight Sonata is about either of those Kim idiots. You would honestly rather out yourself than let anyone think they are worthy of such public displays of love and humiliation.

You are just about to close Sera’s phone and vow never to set foot on social media ever again when the next post catches your eye––the first one where you actually see your name. In fact, your name is generously sprinkled a number of times in this one specific thread.

“Wait a second…” You squint at the top of the thread, reading out the username of the original poster. Is that… Is that your name?!

“User Y/NKook… Oh my god!” You shriek loudly, almost dropping the phone from your sweaty palms. It must be the same person who had organized that merchandise booth in the cafeteria the other week! The number of upvotes on the post isn’t making you feel any better.

posted by u/Y/NKook [3h ago]:

[+98, -5] idk why you noobs are even trying… intellectuals KNOW that y/nkook is real and i won’t take no for an answer… give me my childhood friends to lovers fic RIGHT NOW because this slowburn has been going on for years now and i can’t stand it!!!

➾ [+11, -0] omg op do you know them personally?? how’d you know that they were childhood friends?? i go to the same drama class as y/n and jungkook but they never sit together… are you sure it’s them??

➾ [+20, -1] of course!! they’re even neighbors… besides, haven’t you heard what his nickname is? his friends call him moon eyes for a reason! they say that y/n is the one who gave him that name ^^

You feel your eye twitch, disbelief flooding your senses. Why is this weirdo shipping you with Jungkook? You guys haven’t even spoken properly since elementary school… How does this dude know who you are? Are you being stalked? You whirl your head around, scanning the restaurant for any suspicious people who may or may not be following you. Is this what celebrities feel like when they get shipped with their friends? You feel a sudden surge of respect for them, unable to grasp the situation that you are in. God, you really hope Jungkook hasn’t read any of these.

You go to switch Sera’s phone off, feeling less accomplished than ever before. Maybe it is best to save yourself the anxiety of seeing your world fall apart and try to delude yourself into thinking that the past two weeks have never happened at all. However, there is a certain appeal to reading things that you know you should not, like watching a car crash and unable to look away. The urge to keep scrolling and gaze upon your own personal hell is hard to stop when you have already gained momentum.

“One last post, then I’m done…” You are hard set on that promise, not wanting your apprehension to destroy your peaceful afternoon completely. The next post on the forum greets you with a high upvote number, sending a lick of fear to run down your spine at what you might find. Please don’t be about Y/NKook, you pray helplessly. Little did you know, there are worse things to worry about other than being shipped with your friends.

posted by u/triceratops 👤 [1h ago]:

[+154, -5] hey guys i’m back again with another update! so i’ve managed to shorten the list a bit since last time i posted, and i’m 100% certain that kim seokjin is not the muse! sorry, gamers… our prince is in another castle it seems. worry not, though! that only helps our search better and shortens the list. on the other hand, the authors list has also been edited! turns out that neither jodi nor melody is the author, as they both submitted poems about something else. if you are interested to see the updated lists for both muse and author, please head to my profile and look for the original post titled “Mystery Moon Author & Their Mystery Muse” :-)

You have never clicked on a profile as quickly as you did in that moment. Not even a notification from UberEats could make you move that fast.

Lo and behold, the post that started it all is right at the top of the user’s profile, with the significantly shorter list that they had promised. Sweat begins to build on your temples when you realize that the authors list has decreased to seven names, with your name still obstinately sitting at the end of the lines. When will your suffering end?

There is still something that doesn’t sit right with you, however. As you peruse this user’s profile some more, you feel as if there is something weird about it that you can’t quite place. You never did like using this forum, so maybe you are just not used to the layout of the website? What is it about this user’s profile that is making your stomach coil with nerves?

Wait a second… Why is there an edit button beside their profile picture?

“Y/N! I’m back! Sorry for taking so long; I think I ordered too much again. You’re fine with BBQ sauce on your nuggs, right? That’s all I asked for––” Sera had been happily chirping away, sliding into the bench across from you before finally noticing your stoney face. She pats her face, rubbing her cheeks in confusion. “What? Do I have something on me?”

“How fucking dare you!” You hiss, slamming her phone on the table. Unfortunately, you had accidentally locked the phone in your anger, showing only a black screen.

Sera flinches backwards, bewildered. Her eyes flick to the screen and then to you. “Huh? I thought you liked BBQ sauce on your nuggs? I mean, I can ask for sweet and sour sauce if you want…”

“Unlock your phone right now and explain to me why you have triceratops’ profile logged in.”

Your words begin to click in Sera’s mind. Her face grows pale, her body unconsciously sliding further into the booth to hide from your glare. “U-uh… Haha, what on earth are you talking about..?”

“Don’t even try to lie, Sera. I saw everything, and I honestly don’t know if I’m madder that you betrayed me or that I was stupid enough to believe that you were my friend.”

Sera splutters incomprehensibly at first, waving her arms in panic as she tries to save her ass. “I––! You––! It wasn’t like I––”

You lean forward, peering at her coldly. “Oh yeah? What wasn’t it like? It wasn’t like we were friends?”

“No, of course not! I mean,” she backtracks, tongue-tied. “We are friends! It’s just… I made that post before I knew you were the author and I originally sent the poem to just a couple of people because I was so impressed, and I just wanted to––”

“Hold on,” you interrupt, holding up a finger. She squeaks, staring at you fearfully as you slowly get up to your feet. You cry out, “You were also the one who released my fucking poem to the world?!”

“Anna ou––” Sera whimpers, slapping her palm to her mouth. She lowers it, whispering ruefully. “I… didn’t mean to say that…”

“Oh, so you were meaning to lie to me even more?” You seethe, ready to burst into flames.

The poor McDonalds employee who had come to deliver your order to your table seems too frightened to approach the two of you, her arms shaking both with fear and the weight of five orders of 20 piece chicken nuggets. “Uh, is this a bad time?” The girl asks, eyes darting away from your heated glare.

Instead of answering, you grab the tray from her hands and dump the contents on the table. Sera squawks pitifully when a few of the nuggets fall to the ground, though she absolutely yells when you start chucking them at her head like tiny oily cannonballs.

“What the fuck––Dude stop!” Sera has her arms up in defense, shielding her face from your fiery attack. The sound of you ripping open a BBQ sauce packet has her straightening up, however. “No, not the BBQ sauce! Anything but that!”

“Give me one reason why I should show you mercy.” Your hand is poised to pour the sticky sauce all over her white Valentino bag, ready at a moment’s notice.

“Please, Y/N! I’m really sorry!” Sera jumps out of the booth, and goes on her knees. She clasps her hands together, shaking them frantically. “I really didn’t know it was you at first!”

“Well then, why didn’t you fucking take the post down the moment you did know it was me? I thought you were my friend!” You clench your fist around the BBQ sauce packet, causing some of it to spill onto her bag. She makes a desperate noise.

“I just… I like the attention?” She knows this is the wrong answer, judging by your unimpressed expression. She sighs heavily, head bowed in shame. “Look, I’ll fix this, alright? I genuinely didn’t do this wanting to hurt you… I just got so caught up in the clout that I didn’t really think about what would happen if you found out!”

“‘If’ I found out, huh…” You echo, more disappointed than angry now. You slump back into your chair, taking care to grab the napkins and cleaning the sticky mess on your skin as best as you can. “You really were going to continue doing this for as long as it took, huh?”

“I’m really sorry, Y/N.” Her voice is soft, repentant. It doesn’t do much for your sympathy, however.

“Fuck you, honestly. If you really are sorry, you’ll fix this mess as soon as possible.”

You reach for your bag, your movements jostling a few more nuggets to tumble to the floor. You don’t bother saying goodbye, not wanting to see if Sera is doing her Crying Face Emoji impression to try and soften you up. Not this time. This time… you don’t think your feelings can recover after this.

You have read enough stories about heartbreak and longing, but you don’t think any of them top the experience of losing a friend you realize you never even had.

The next morning, there is a new post on the forum from user triceratops.

posted by u/triceratops 👤 [0s ago]:

[+0, -0] Hello, friends. I think I’ve found the author.

It’s Lee Sera.

398 notes · View notes

edorazzi · 5 years

Text

Well, here we are again! Twitter said yes to a review post for a Miraculous magazine that suddenly showed up in my local area. ‘Tis the season after all, and by that I mean someone bought it for me as a joke birthday gift and I was way too happy about that.

I’ve done previous reviews of the Miraculous Christmas calendar, Easter egg set, superhero fashion dolls and action figures, so let’s dive into the unknown world of merchandising yet again!

(As always, if you enjoy my posts, please consider checking out my Twitter page or supporting me on Patreon for lots of bonus content!)

4 FREE GIFTS! PACKED WITH ACTIVITIES! MEET THE KWAMIS! PRANKS & LOLS! CUT-OUT MEMES! FANGIRL ALERT! NAIL ART! 100% OFFICIAL! I’m overwhelmed! It feels like I’m having a seizure just from the packaging!!!

I should preface this by saying I haven’t bought a magazine like this in years. Possibly ever. I read things like the Beano, Animals & You and the odd Disney Princess zine when I was a kid but I have no idea what to expect from a free-gift-packed kiddie magazine in 2019. If the outside is anything to go by we’re in for a wild ride.

I’m noticing that it says “Miraculous #20″ on the back. Does this mean I’ve missed 19 previous issues? I’m genuinely a little upset by that. My local area is a complete dry zone for Miraculous so I haven’t had the chance to pick these up.

First step: let’s separate everything out and get a look at these freeeee giftssss. Except they aren’t free, because this magazine was like £3.99. This does seem to be the current trend - it’s kinda rare to see any kids’ zines without the excess packaging crammed with ‘free’ stuff. Is it really too expensive to just produce the magazine? Probably, in this economy.

Chat Noir is revealed on the cover! He was on the back of the plastic jacket, but it’s still nice to see the kids as a front-cover duo. Apparently we’re going to learn to draw Pollen, too, which sounds fun. I’m actually liking the look of the gifts as well, but we’ll get into those in a minute.

This hairbrush............. is adorable. Oh my god. It’s pretty cheap and flimsy but it functions the way it’s supposed to, and the Ladybug design has been taken into account in a better way than “it’s red/black, that counts” (lest we forget the UTTER BULLSHIT of the Christmas calendar, and YES I’m still mad about that). I don’t know how well I expect the outer sticker to last, but if it can take a bit of wear and tear this would be an adorable little travel brush. Nicely done, lads!

These nail stickers? Also adorable. They remind me of the kiddie makeup sets I had when I was little, back in the early 00s when plastic stick-on nails and decals were all the rage. Are they still a thing? That’s nice to know.

There are 13 designs (that I can count) - a Queen Bee mask, Chat Noir pawprint cake, macaron, cupcake, heart-print cookie, Ladybug stud, flower, lightning bolt, love heart, Marinette heart, bee, fox tail and star. The majority are directly related to the show and that makes them feel special. No Carapace though? :(

I’ve put a little Marinette heart on my furthest finger. At the time of typing this up (about a day later) it’s still firmly in place. I haven’t really knocked it around, granted, but it’s not flimsy enough to fall off after five minutes either. It’s also really cute to look at. Guess I’m still a decal-loving 2004 girl at heart......

These stickers though!!! Wow! They’re those holographic and slightly-puffy kind and they feel like pretty good quality, and the designs are so cute! I can’t fault these, they’re absolutely adorable. I immediately want to stick them everywhere.

So I’ve stuck them everywhere. I’m especially proud of the light switch pun. My room looks GREAT.

I saved these “mystery stickers” for last because I’m weak for the thrill of mystery bags, and there wasn’t anything on the packaging to indicate what kind of designs to expect. And OH!!!! OH, IT’S MY BOY!!!! Look at him!!!!

I made jokes with the Christmas calendar about all the Chat Noir items being stolen ahead of time, but that’s definitely NOT the case with this magazine. I have been SPOILED with the presence of my cat son.

These stickers are similar to the sticker sheet (and the Chillin’ Out design is reprinted), but they’re puffier and non-holographic. I’m deeply allured by the “decorate your phone or tablet” suggestion on the packet, but I’m going to see how the previous stickers withstand the wear-and-tear of my laptop lid before adding any more. If I damage these beautiful Adrien stickers I’ll be devastated.

Those are our free gifts! They’re actually very fun and cute, I’m really happy with them! I guess now it’s time to get into the magazine itself...........

I genuinely almost forgot the magazine was the main part of this package. I figured I was done, but we’ve barely even started! Here’s a splash page of the kwami. Kwami with a capital K? Kwamis? I still feel like it should be singular-lower-case-k-kwami. I’ve never been happy about this “miraculouses” business either.

But is that--

It IS!!!! It’s Nino!!!

I guess this is the new flavour of Miraculous tie-ins. Now they’ve broadened out to a full team we’re seeing a lot more of Adrien alongside the girls, and Nino is the elusive hero who shows up once in a blue moon. At least this time his name isn’t in the title of the gotdam show.......

Anyway, I can see I’m supposed to draw my “fave Kwami”. Better get to it.

Felix just wants a break. Just one break. But not in this magazine.

Speaking of seeing more of Adrien (and, tragically, less of Nino), this is the kind of splash page I want to see! Both kids are here! The banner themed with Marinette’s signature flowers is a nice touch too; that’s associated with her arts ‘n’ crafts in the show already and it makes sense to apply it to the creative portion of this magazine too.

I LOVE the promotion of Chat Noir nails as something the little girls buying this magazine will definitely want to try. I’d expect them to do Marinette vs Ladybug nails, but instead we get a boyish option! Hell yeah!

I’m a little confused by the Queen Bee masks apparently going on the Chat Noir nails though. I guess they’re friends? Is this secret AdriChlo confirmation? Watch out, Marinette, Kagami’s not the one to be worried about.

SURE WOULD BE NICE TO HAVE SOME TURTLE STICKERS FOR AN ALL-BOYS THEME BUT I GUESS NOT HUH

Next up is a short merch catalogue (why would you put the big bold arrow pointing right to the underoos.....). Would those Chat Noir socks come in my size? Asking for me.

Then there’s......... this page. FANGIRL ALERT. God. It’s like the Ladyblog, if only the Ladyblog ever gave a heck about reporting what Chat Noir’s up to.

THE SPELL WAS BROKEN AND THE FANDOM IMPLODED WITH JOY.

I really have to wonder what age range this is meant for. Do kids know what a “fandom” is? Do little girls consider themselves “fangirls”? I guess most kids have enough internet access to figure it out these days (all the hashtags and LOLs and memes speak volumes), but I can’t imagine being young enough to fit the target range of this magazine while also knowing these terms. I dunno.

(Also, the definition of ‘implosion’ is ‘an instance of something collapsing violently inwards’, so I’m not sure that’s the word they’re looking for. Unless the return to the status quo in Dark Cupid and the continuing stagnation of the love square was enough to make people quit in frustration? Probably.)

I’m filling it in, of course. Because I must.

I gave up on the pre-approved ratings system pretty much right away, but I think this is an accurate rating of my LadyNoir opinions.

I might be kinda cynical about it here, but I am actually pretty fond of how this magazine sells Ladybug and Chat Noir as a couple. The show’s portraying it as very onesided lately, with Chat pining over Ladybug who has absolutely no interest in him (Glaciator was a TERRIBLE episode and I’m still hurting from it), but reading this zine I’d guess they were already dating. It’s cheesy, but in a nice way.

I have to laugh at “the most amazing thing about this super duo is that they always look out for and protect each other” though. Chat’s usually pretty focused on LB, sure, but there are endless instances of LB using Chat as cannon fodder and just generally abandoning him to get mauled by akuma while she carries out her personal private plan to save the day. Maybe we’re just focusing on the better-written episodes, huh?

Moving ahead. I’ve been dreading this page since reading “Plaggs Pranks & LOLs” on the back of the packaging. I feel hatred in my very bones just looking at it.

I like that there’s ONE instance of the term “ladybird” in the joke column. This is a UK-based magazine and that IS the word we tend to use over here - “ladybug” is an Americanism - but it’s like they’re worried kids could have got to the middle of this magazine about a superhero named Ladybug and then not understand the bug jokes. Maybe whoever was writing this page slipped up?

OH NOOOOO. MARINETTE, NOOOOOOOOOO.

THIS IS WHY FELIX GOT RID OF YOU, PLAGG. THESE ARE ADRIEN’S PROBLEMS NOW.

(mmm whatcha saaaaay)

I mean........... YEAH, I guess, but we absolutely did see Plagg destroy Felix with an entire shelf of heavy books. I guess he’s nicer with Adrien. It’s all fun and games until someone has a nervous breakdown in the library.

I do love the concept of Tikki getting glitter-bombed by Plagg through the mail. She just curiously opens up the little letter which got slipped into Marinette’s purse, and-- WOOSH. One entire wall of Mari’s room is glittery except for a little Tikki-shaped silhouette.

Next up is a two-page comic which is absolutely adorable! Look at those little chibis! The warm and soft colour palette! This is nicer than most of the official Miraculous comic book art I’ve seen, I hope they keep giving this artist work.

Nino’s here too (and he looks great!), and I like the touch of Marinette and Adrien playing as each other’s superhero characters. Adrien even wins the match, though I guess there’s something to be said about Ladybug beating Chat Noir (again)......

It does raise the question yet again of where this tie-in merchandise is coming from! They’ve had action figures, a movie, music video features, now an arcade game... Who’s getting the royalties here? Who’s profiting? Is this how Fu can afford to buy all those rare ingredients for the magic potions?

Over the page we have an activity to Design your Secret Lair! Right away I love the Marinette theme of the page, the soft pink and flowers, and the drawing space looking like a page in a binder with marker tabs and everything.

I have to design my secret lair, of course:

What do you think? I’m very creative. I’ll need an adult to send in the drawing of my hideout but I think I’ve really got a shot at those unicorn headphones.

Now we’re on to puzzles and character pages. I don’t know what ol’ Gabe is doing trying to meet a 13 year old girl in the dead of night without telling anyone, you’d think if he’s got that much free time on his hands he could be spending it with his son.

I don’t know how those points in Ladybug’s power profile are awarded or what they mean, but you can tell this is a fan magazine. Official sources would have put her at a 10.

Standard House of Villains page! Most of these were good episodes but I’m deeply offended Riposte isn’t on here. Maybe her motives weren’t dramatic and cartoonish enough to be up in the ranks with Glaciator and Gorizilla?

“Cat Noir’s dad is also the evil Hawk Moth”, huh? I mean that’s not WRONG, but is it really something to put in his power profile when Adrien doesn’t even know yet??? Feels like we’re kinda jumping the gun on the poor boy. What if he picks up this magazine?

Apparently he’s one point weaker than Ladybug (seriously???), two points faster, equally as agile, one point less skilled and two points less cool. Despite all those lesses he still comes out at an equal 9, which is a relief! These kids are a team, putting either of them below the other would have been a big no.

I did the colouring page too, naturally. Je suis un artiste.

Now we’ve got a page fresh from the Ladyblog, a Miraculous quiz! Not a lot of excitement, but it’s nice to see Alya getting her own section.

I like that the qualifications of “you could be Ladybug herself!” are knowing what city Marinette lives in and what school she goes to. Well done, Mari! You’re doing your best!!!

TEACHER I AM SO HUNGRYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY

I gotta say, I’m not so sure about decorating donuts with fondant. I’ve never tried it so I could be wrong, but it feels like rolled icing instead of frosting(?) would be too heavy for an entire donut. The texture is totally different.

I mean I guess if you’re going to load your kids up on sugar you might as well go all the way. They’re going to look like they’ve eaten something horrible with all that black fondant, but they’ll have fun. Adrien would love these.

WHERE’S NINO. THIS IS JUST UNFAIR. You’ll have four out of five heroes, then a double of Marinette and Tikki? Maybe this just goes to show how little memorable dialogue Carapace has.

Though if “Spots On!” is Marinette’s dialogue and not Ladybug’s, why are the other transformation phrases attributed to Rena Rouge and Queen Bee instead of Alya and Chloé? Surely they could have picked something better for Marinette to justify having her on this list twice instead of Nino.

The next page brings us one of those flowchart quizzes! And ouch, yet again the absence of the other heroes is obvious. I can understand not including Chloé here since she’s technically not a “friendly” character yet, but no Nino? Alya and Marinette are close friends, but Adrien doesn’t really hang out with them without Nino around. Having the three of them together just seems strange.

I do like the little fashion page! They’re all cute and affordable and easy to find on the high street here. I’d love to see how other issues of this magazine are structured; is there a different fashion spot every time? Styles to channel each individual hero would be adorable.

Moving on to a tutorial for a Ladybug notebook! I would have made this, but I didn’t have the time nor a notebook to stick it to.

Between this and the donuts, it seems weird that these designs are based on, like... an actual beetle, eyes and antennae and all. Shouldn’t it be Ladybug’s symbol? These come across more like “fun animals” arts ‘n’ crafts instead of themed after Miraculous specifically. I think if I made this (or decorated the donuts) I’d miss out the head and match the spot pattern to Ladybug’s symbol.

The hidden message design is adorable though. I can see this being a craft kids are super proud of.

Another activity page! I didn’t have a go at these but they’re pretty standard. It’s cute that the coded message designs are the same as the stickers and nail decals!

Also, apparently Ladybug’s ‘secret’ is “LB mask + heart + CN mask”, which was (somehow) stolen by Volpina. Is that the secret Hawk Moth was talking about earlier in the magazine? Is he blackmailing Ladybug with revealing she has a crush on Chat Noir? How did Volpina ‘steal’ this secret? Is LadyNoir finally reciprocated???? THIS IS A WHOLE EPISODE IN ITSELF, I NEED ANSWERS--

Next page we have an ad for another girly magazine (Quizzes! LOLs! Celebs! Cringes! Puzzles!). I think I’ll pass, no matter how appealing that giant microphone pen is.

And a “Miraculous Identity” quiz! Tikki’s apparently super fickle with her wielders, three seasons of relentlessly praising Marinette and now she’s telling us we’re the Chosen Ones. You can’t fool me with those big ol’ eyes.

My inner superhero is Marvellous Fox, by the way. Though yet again I’m noticing we don’t have turtle options...................

And on the back cover... the memes. Oh, sweet lord, the memes. They’re hashtag-SoRelatable! And I can cut them out to keep! Oh boy!!!

Is this what kids do when they have limited internet access? Cut fresh memes out of magazines and carry them around? I need to know.

That’s a very sinister Ladybug at the bottom of the page though. What’s-- What’s she going to do to me if I don’t cut out and keep these memes. Ladybug what are you going to do if I d--

Well that brings us to the end of the magazine! And yet again I’m surprised by how much time it takes to just put a bunch of photos together and write about them.

This is a neat little magazine all in all! The ‘free gifts’ are pretty nice, there’s a fair amount of content and the whole thing is pretty cute for young fans of the show. I could see myself buying this again - if it ever shows up on shelves, Miraculous is so scarce around here that I fully expect it to disappear again after this one issue - just for the free junk, but it would be interesting to see how they’d structure different issues too!

I notice we never did get that promised tutorial on how to draw Pollen; the one advertised on the cover. Was the “draw your favourite Kwami” activity supposed to cover that? I’m not sure that really counts.

If you got this far, thanks for joining me on this Miraculous journey! We’ll meet again whenever I get another piece of weird ML merch to cover. Bien joué!

#miraculous ladybug #josie talks about things #josie's art #i really should get a review tag #ANYWAY there's a bit more art in this which isn't just the header image so give it a look!#and felix features a couple of times because WHY would he not on edorazzi dot com

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animeniacss · 4 years

Text

6 Years - Hoseok x Reader - Chapter 9 - The Flu Hits Home

Synopsis: 6 years. That’s all it can take to take another look at someone and see that they have completely changed. You were once an eager 20-year-old, with your dreams all in view, and Jung Hoseok at your side to view them with you. However, after a break up the end of your junior year of college, everything seemed different. Now, you’re a recently divorced single mother of two, and your life is nowhere near what you thought it would be. However, after reuniting with Jung Hoseok, you may just be able to capture a little bit of that exciting youth you once knew so long ago.

Feat. BTS Members, Nayeon (TWICE), and Yuna (itzy)

Genre: Romance, SingleMother!AU, Past Relationship, Drama, Some Depictions of Violence/Domestic Abuse

Length: approx. 4.9k words

Chapter 9 - The Flu Hits Home

As you stood beside the counter, running a hand through your hair, you could faintly hear Hoseok reading to the girls. Hearing his high-pitched voice as he read the story, it really made you smile. You were so glad that Hoseok had no problem reading to them. Curiosity got the better of you after a few more minutes, you walked towards the bedroom. The door was opened slightly, allowing you to get a glimpse of Min Ja’s bed.

Hoseok was sitting with his back against the wall, book in his hands. Min Ja was sitting beside him, snug under her pink covers. Grinning, she watched as he turned the pages. Hyo Bin was on the other side of him, her eyes mostly closed. She was probably very close to falling asleep as she rested on his chest. Hoseok was beaming as he read the story, Min Ja copying all his wild noises and voices.

“And then, the little girl ran alllllll the way through the forest with the magic jewel.” Hoseok beamed, pointing to the little girl on one page. “See? Look…. weeeee.” He traced his finger along the trail, and Min Ja stuck her finger out to do the same, giggling as they both made the noise together, quiet enough to not wake Hyo Bin up. “Where’s she going?”

“She’s going to the castle.” Min Ja pointed out. “But I can’t tell you why because you have to read it.”

“Oh, okay.” Hoseok chuckled a bit, turning the page. Resting against the door frame, you watched Hoseok finish the story about a princess who saved the world. Min Ja was getting sleepier and sleepier with every turning page, rubbing her eyes and yawning as she rested against Hoseok to listen to him read it. When he noticed she was getting sleepier, his voices toned down just a bit. “Wow, that was good, huh?” He asked, closing the finished storybook.

“Mhm…” Min Ja nodded, rubbing her eyes.

“Are you tired now?”

“No. You have to read another one.” You murmured. Hoseok chuckled.

“Min Ja, it’s time to go to sleep. Mr. Hobi read you a story already…” You finally cut in, walking towards the bed. You took Hyo Bin into your arms, not waking her up as she curled into your touch.

“Mr. Hobi?” Min Ja began, yawning as she watched Hoseok get up off the bed. “Can you read more stories soon?”

“Of course, I can.” He said cheerfully, watching you set Hyo Bin into her bed and tucking her under the covers. “But it’s time to sleep now, alright?”

“Kay…” she pouted, nuzzling under her covers. You walked over, fixing her blankets before planting a small kiss on her forehead. Min Ja’s big eyes closed after a few moments, and it wasn’t long before the room was filled with only the sounds of faint snoring. Turning to Hoseok, you motioned for him to quietly exit the room, closing the door behind you.

“I appreciate that…” you said softly as the two of you returned to the living room.

“It was fun.” He said happily. “But it’s been a long day, I’m exhausted.” He admitted, letting out an exhausted sighed. “Taking care of two girls for a whole day is crazy.”

“Please, tell me more about it.” You teased sarcastically, crossing your arms. Hoseok grinned a bit as you led him to the door. He slid on his shoes, grabbed his belongings, and turned to you.

“I hope you had a good time today.” He said sweetly.

“I had a lot of fun. I appreciate you taking us out like this.”

“Of course. Like I said, I wanted to help de-stress you guys. Did it work?”

“Well, my back still hurts, I’m starting to see double, and I really want a drink. So, not much has changed.” You replied, a grin forming on your face. “But I did get that amazing video of you being terrified by that snake.”

“Aaaaaaah…” Hoseok groaned. “I cannot believe you got that on video. You do realize how long that thing was, right?”

“Yeah. That made it even funnier. I think it was trying to play with you.”

“Well, I wasn’t interested.” Hoseok huffed. You laughed again as the memory flashed through your mind. As you stopped yourself from laughing, you glanced up at Hoseok again. You felt so calm, which was what Hoseok was trying to have happened. Sure, any day dragging around two children under five would leave any sane person exhausted, but internally, you felt so calm and so relieved that you got to spend a day just enjoying yourself instead of stressing out over the thought of Weong-Bin and his idiocy. When was the last time you felt that way? You had no idea. Without thinking, you took a step closer to Hoseok, and he blinked. “Hm?”

“Hey…weird request…but can I have a hug?” Without hesitation, Hoseok grinned and opened up his arms.

“Of course.” He said, practically beaming. Almost immediately, you latched yourself onto him, your hands wrapping around his torso. He was so warm, and you couldn’t help but nuzzle your head into his chest. You could hear him chuckle as his arms wrapped around you. “Not that I mind, but any particular reason?”

“Your hugs always made me feel better, that’s all.”

“So, I could have saved a whole days’ worth of won today if I had just given you a hug?” He teased. You both let out a small laugh, and you only hugged him tighter. “I’m kidding.”

“I know.” You said. “Thank you for today.”

“Ahh, don’t mention it.” He repeated again. “I like spending time with you.”

“I hope we get to do more stuff like this.”

“Just let me know when you’re free and we can work it out.” He said simply. You sighed, closing your eyes as you just allowed this tight hug to envelop your entire body. “…Is there anything else bothering you?” He asked curiously.

“Other then the ex-husband stuff? No.” you admitted. “Everything that comes and goes in my mind kind of falls back onto that.”

“Ah…”

You were silent for a moment. There was a wave of emotions hitting you right now, some that were good, and others that you would rather go away and never come back. After that moment passed, you let out a deep, almost frustrated sigh. “Damn you’re so comfy.” You pouted. Hoseok chuckled a bit, resting his chin on top of your head.

“Thank you.” He said softly. “I’ll wait here for a few more minutes until you’re ready to let go.” You nodded, your hands gripping onto the back of his shirt. At this moment, you felt that if you let him go now, you may never get him back. It felt silly to think such a thing, that much you knew, but still. Being in this moment made you feel safe and content, and you didn’t want that moment to leave you.

“Okay…” you said softly, finally pulling back from the hug. “I’ll let you get going.” Hoseok nodded, stuffing his hands into his pockets, allowing only the thumbs to poke out. “Get home safe.”

“I will.” He said happily. Nodding, you waved him off as he headed towards the elevator. Slowly closing and locking the door, you took a deep breath of air into your lungs, held it for a moment, and exhaled it out into the air. You always knew deep down, even when you were married, that the way you felt for Hoseok had never truly left you. It wasn’t something you ever spoke about, but you knew it was true. Maybe that was why Weong-Bin didn’t even like the guy. You knew him in college, and he was well aware of your relationship with Hoseok from beginning to end. Feeling your mind begin to race with different thoughts and feelings, you knew it was time to go to bed.

---

Sunday was a good day too, another one that you had off. You spent the time with the girls in the apartment, giving the family a chance to sleep in before getting up and spending as much time as you could coloring, watching TV, or just playing some games. Time to just have a lazy day with the girls did not come around often, but you were so happy when it did. The three of you were sitting around the kitchen table, just after lunch, coloring. Min Ja was drawing pictures of the zoo to show to her daycare friends the next day, and Hyo Bin was scribbling. Well, sort of. She had woken up crankier than usual, but you assumed she was still lethargic from the day prior and needed more time to sleep. However, she was absolutely refusing to be put down for a nap. You were unsure why, you could see that she was tired, but every time you tried to put her into bed, she would kick and scream and cry, begging to be picked up again. It was odd, but you tried to push it off as a rough day, one that would balance itself out as the hours passed.

It didn’t though. Instead, it only got worse. As Sunday turned to Monday, you found Hyo Bin only getting fussier and more difficult with every passing hour. It got to the point where she refused to eat. Anything that was put near her the mouth was quickly rejected and met with a fit of whimpers and sobs instead. You had no idea what to do. Trying to think of something quick, you gave her some children’s medicine, one that induced some drowsiness, and put her to bed early.

“Mommy, what’s wrong with Hyo Bin?” Min Ja asked curiously as she watched you exit your daughter’s room. You sighed.

“I don’t know. Maybe she’s getting sick.” You admitted.

“Oh…” She nodded.

“Yeah. So how about you sleep in my bed with me tonight? Just so we don’t get sick too.” Min Ja’s eyes sparkled, and she nodded eagerly.

“Okay!” She said happily. You helped her get ready for bed, and the two of you spent the next little while snuggled under your covers with the TV on. Nothing much for kids was on at this hour, just a few different cartoons and game shows that kept Min Ja giggling at chatting for an extra hour. It wasn’t too much longer before the sound of the TV lulled Min Ja to sleep, and you turned it off. Hoping that whatever was bothering Hyo Bin would pass, you found yourself unable to sleep, anticipating the worst.

Unfortunately for you, just as you were about to go to sleep, your mind trying to assure itself that Hyo Bin was most likely getting a little cold and would be fine, you heard a noise coming from the girl’s bedroom off the baby monitor. The sound of whimpering, the sound of sobbing, the sound of gagging. Quickly, you shot up in your bed, the sudden shift waking Min Ja up from her slumber as you got out of bed and hurried into the bedroom.

“Hyo Bin?” you called out, turning the light on and hurrying over to the crib. Leaning in, you got a good look at your daughter. She was pale as a ghost, her eyes heavy as if she hasn’t slept since you put her into bed. You quickly scooped her up into your arms and pressed a hand to her forehead. “Oh my God, you’re burning up.” You gasped, rubbing her back. “Okay…okay…” Hyo Bin weakly gripped onto your nightshirt, sniffling as you tried to calm her down. She was coughing and wheezing as if she was struggling to catch her breath. “Ooooh baby, okay. Let’s go take your temperature.” Heading out of the room and towards the bathroom, you passed Min Ja, who was standing at the door watching.

“Mommy?” she called out in curiosity. When she saw you enter the bathroom, she quickly followed. “Mommy, what’s wrong?” you could hear in her voice that she was starting to get scared.

“Nothing, Min. Go back to Mommy’s bed. Hyo Bin just isn’t feeling well.”

“Noo…” she whimpered, eyes watering as she hid behind the bathroom door. You sighed, deciding arguing would only make things worse. You sat on the toilet, Hyo Bin in your lap as you put the thermometer in her ear. She tried to squirm a bit, but you managed to get a temperature.

“…Oh God, 103 degrees. You sighed, holding Hyo Bin close as she continued to cough. It was deep, and you could hear the phlegm in her chest as she coughed, making her whine. “Okay…” standing up, you headed into the kitchen and attempted to find an ice pack or cooling rag to use. When you did, you placed the cold rag around her neck and heard her let out a deep sigh. “There you go, better, huh?” you smiled softly, rubbing her back.

“Mamaaaa…” she sobbed, sniffling. You tried to soothe her as you thought about how you needed to take off work for god knows how long, and somehow get Min Ja to go to daycare without causing too much of a fuss.

“I know, sweetie. We’re going to go see Doctor Park tomorrow, yeah?” You hummed softly, kissing her forehead. You continued trying to soother her back to sleep, but there was no way it was going to happen. Checking the time, you saw it was 1 that next morning, and you needed to get Min Ja to sleep so she wouldn’t be tired the next day. “Come on, let’s go to bed.” You led the girls back inside, having Min Ja get into bed with the promise that you would stay in there with Hyo Bin. You made sure to keep your distance, grabbing a mask from the bathroom and using it to cover Hyo Bin’s mouth in case she coughed anymore. “Min Ja, you need to go to bed.” You said softly, watching your daughter toss and turn in her sleep.

“I don’t wanna.” She pouted. “I wanna stay with you and Hyo Bin.”

“If you don’t rest, you’ll get sick too.” You pleaded. “I promise, I’ll be right here.” Hyo Bin let out a few more coughs into her mask and you rubbed her back. “Please, Min….” Min Ja pouted, nuzzling her head into the pillow as she pulled the blanket over herself. You watched her eyes stare at you for what felt like forever, but the darkness of the room and the silence caused exhaustion to overcome her, and she was soon fast asleep. With that settled, you walked back out into the kitchen and sat on one of the chairs, Hyo Bin in your arms as you tried to get her to sleep next. She was much more of a challenge, sobbing and fussing the entire time. Every moment that she seemed she would be falling asleep; a deep cough would hit and startle her back awake. You knew that there was no way you were getting any sleep.

The next morning, you woke up to the sound of your alarm blaring from your bedroom. You had fallen asleep on the couch with Hyo Bin on your chest only an hour ago, but it felt like five minutes. Groaning, you got up, carrying Hyo Bin in your arms. She was still sleeping soundly, and you took her to her room, placing her in her crib so that you could go get Min Ja ready.

“I don’t wanna go to daycare, I wanna stay home!” Min Ja begged, trying to stop you from getting her dressed.

“Sweetie, please.” You begged. “I need to take Hyo Bin to the doctor and if you’re to close, then you’ll get sick too. I can’t have two sick babies, now can I?” You asked. Min Ja felt her eyes start to water, and she quickly hugged you. “Min Ja…” you sighed softly, holding her close to you. “Hyo Bin will be okay.” You said. “I promise. I’ll pick you up early. I just need to take her to the doctor…”

“Okay…” she sniffled.

“Besides, don’t you want to tell the kids all about the zoo?” you asked curiously. Min Ja nodded. “I’ll send Miss Yun Yun the pictures while we wait for the doctor, I promise.” Min Ja sniffled, wiping her eyes dry. “Okay, good. Now, to call out of work.”

When you called, you got Jungkook on the phone. Explaining the situation, he said that today looked like it was going to be slow, since not that many appointments were scheduled. It almost made him laugh when you asked to make an appointment for Hyo Bin as early as possible, and he managed to get you in first. Relief washed over you knowing that the staff insisted you take as much time as needed. With everything settled and prepared, you threw on a pair of stretch pants and a tee-shirt before whisking your kids out the door.

After dropping Min Ja off at the daycare, and having another mini battle wither about going, you were on the next train to the doctor’s office. Hyo Bin had woken up by now and still had a deep cough, making you keep your distance from everyone else on the train. While you were glad that she began to show symptoms earlier rather than later, you knew that by the severity of the symptoms that you were going to be out of work for a few more days.

---

“Alright, come on in.” Dr. Park called, smiling as you entered the waiting room. “Much different seeing you here without scrubs on.” He teased, making you chuckle.

“I know, I’m sorry it was so last minute.”

“Oh please, kid’s getting the flu is always last minute.” Once you got into the room, he began an examination of Hyo Bin. He knew all of her shots and records because he was the one to administer them to her since birth. Hyo Bin was squirming, not wanting to be touched, but being a professional, Dr. Park was able to complete the examination anyway. “Yeah, it definitely looks like the flu. She’ll be out of commission for a year the next four days.”

“Christ, I don’t have anyone to babysit her.”

“Don’t worry.” He assured. “You’ve racked up a lot of time off. Use it, stay with her.”

“But who will you get?”

“Actually, Seokjin was asking about taking a few hours here and there for some extra cash. I’ll call him and see if he can take over your shift at all.” You sighed in relief, though finding this out was new information. “I’ll go make that call and write her a prescription. You’ll be out of here in no time.”

“Thanks.” You said softly, smiling as you watched him walk out. Moments later, there was a knock at the door again, and Jungkook stepped in.

“Hey.” He smiled. “How is she?”

“Flu.” You sighed. “I won’t be here for a while. Dr. Park said Seokjin might be able to take my hours for the next few days.” Jungkook grinned. He had always liked Seokjin, since Seokjin trained him when he first got hired. Jungkook saw Hyo Bin resting against your chest, hiding her face as she coughed into her little mask. When Dr. Park returned with the prescription and also confirming that Seokjin would be working those hours, you hummed and left with a thank you.

On the train ride back home, you called in the prescription and then phoned Seokjin. It rang for a moment, but then he answered.

“Heeeello~? World Wide Handsome speaking.” You heard him say. It’s been a while since you really got to speak to him.

“Hey.” You hummed. “Dr. Park told me you’re taking hours again at the office. Is work not going well?”

“Hm? Oh no. Work is going wonderful! But you would know if you came to see me.” He huffed playfully, and you chuckled. “But I only work four days a week at night. I need more money, so I called and asked if I could work a few hours here and there at the office in the mornings.” He explained. “And my first day back, I’m taking over for you? Lucky meeeee.” You chuckled a bit. You could hear him set you on speakerphone, most likely to get himself ready to hop on the next train to the office.

“Well I’ll let you go get ready.” You hummed. “I’m going home to sleep, I’m exhausted.”

“You sound it.” Seokjin teased, laughing a bit. “But I hope Hyo Bin gets better.”

“Thanks.” You said your goodbyes and hung up the phone. Hyo Bin was sound asleep the entire train ride home, thank god. You made sure to stop and pick up her medicine, along with a few home remedies from the local pharmacy, before taking Hyo Bin home. She slept soundly in her bed, the medicine coursing through her little body, and you collapsed on the couch not long after her. You were exhausted, only running on about 3 hours of sleep, if even that. It wasn’t long before sleep overtook you as well, and the apartment was silent.

You slept for what felt like forever, but it was only for a few hours, before Hyo Bin stirred from her sleep and began coughing. Forcing yourself out of your seat, you headed into the bedroom. It had been almost 12 hours since your daughter had really eaten anything of substance, so that was the next thing to accomplish on your list.

Hyo Bin was a lot easier to feed than she has been over the past few days. She took some scrambled eggs and juice without much fuss, and you could see how relaxed and calmer she looked now that she was eating. It calmed you down too, and though her coughing was still horribly deep, and she was still warm, you were glad she was eating again.

“Feel better?” you hummed, smiling as Hyo Bin nodded. “Let’s go inside…” You found yourself sitting on the couch, your muscles relaxing as you turned on the TV. Hyo Bin lied on the couch, and you put a blanket over her before turning to her favorite channel. Time passed idly, the noise from the TV keeping Hyo Bin occupied as she drifted in and out of sleep. You took this newfound time to do some house cleaning. Dishes were finally removed from the dishwasher, you got to clean the counters, clean up the girl’s rooms, and do some laundry. It was exhausting, but if you didn’t do it now, it would never get done. You made sure to watch Hyo Bin closely, checking up on here every once in a while, as she slept on the couch. Once the bedroom was cleaned, you transferred your sleeping toddler into bed, turning on some soft music in hopes of keeping her to sleep with the gentle noise. It was just as you were heading inside to get some lunch for yourself when your phone began to ring. “Hm?”

Pulling your phone from your back pocket, you saw that Hobi was calling you. You had changed his contact photo to a picture of him with the girls that you had taken at the zoo. He was sitting beside Min Ja with Hyo Bin on his lap, the selfie angled up to get all three of them in it. Min Ja was throwing up a peace sign with Hoseok, and Hyo Bin was holding her bag of popcorn in her hands. It was a cute picture. Smiling, you quickly answered.

“Hey.” You said happily.

“Hey.” He hummed happily. “I hope I’m not bothering you. Are you at work?”

“No, not today.” You sighed. “Hyo Bin must have gotten sick at the zoo. She’s got a massive fever and hasn’t really been eating too much all day.” Hoseok let out a deep, sympathetic sigh.

“Aww, man. That’s rough. I hope she gets better soon.”

“Thank you. She’s sleeping now. Hopefully, the medicine will break the fever in a few days…” you let out a deep sigh. “Are you working today?”

“Sort of. Jimin and I have started some auditions for the upcoming year. We start in about 20 minutes, so I thought I would just call and see how you were doing.” You couldn’t help but smile at the idea that you were first on Hoseok’s mind more and more with each passing day.

“I hope that goes well.” You said. “Are you still just focusing on the studio's hip hop class?”

“Yeah. Jimin said depending on who auditions, we might expand and add a few more classes for a few different ages.”

“That’s wonderful.” You said happily. “I told you it would happen.” Hoseok chuckled. “Well, I’ll let you go. Let me know how auditions go, okay?”

“I will.” He said. “And tell Hyo Bin to get better soon.”

“Will do.”

“Mostly because as soon as she’s better, I was hoping that you and I can get dinner again.” Hearing that made another smile grace your lips. “I know it’s something we’ve been talking about for a while.”

“Yeah. That actually sounds really nice.” You said happily. “A friend of mine has been pestering me for months to come to see him at the restaurant he works at.” Hoseok chuckled a bit.

“That sounds perfect. We’ll start making plans once Hyo Bin is feeling better again.”

“Alright, sounds good.” You hummed. “I should get going, though.”

“Absolutely. I’ll let you go.” Hoseok said. “Bye~.”

“Bye.” You hung up and set your phone back in your pocket, biting your lip at the thought of going out to dinner with Hoseok again. It had been a while since both of you had alone time with one another, and it was something you were missing. So, you were hoping that Hyo Bin would get better as soon as possible, for both your sakes.

Hyo Bin slept soundly until you had to go get Min Ja from daycare. You felt bad that you had promised to pick her up early, but after cleaning the house and trying to get things ready, you realized that more time had passed than you wanted to. Luckily, Min Ja didn’t really seem to notice. You had sent over the pictures of the zoo, and Min Ja spent the entire day talking about her experiences petting the alpacas, seeing the bears, and even tried to tell the story about the giant snake that terrified Hoseok and Hyo Bin. She even showed her red panda stuffed animal to her friends, which you brought with you upon picking her up.

“Everyone said they liked my pictures, Mommy.” Min Ja beamed happily as you brought her back into the house.

“That’s great, sweetie.” You said happily. “I told you everyone would enjoy it.”

“Is Hyo Bin feeling better?” she asked curiously, looking up to see her sleeping sister in your arms.

“She’s doing better.” You said happily. “But she needs to take medicine. Her shot didn’t work and she got the flu.”

“Oh…” Min Ja said softly.

Upon entering the house, you got Hyo Bin into bed and put the TV on for Min Ja before starting on dinner. Surprisingly, when you served the simple meal to your daughters, Hyo Bin was taking the food down without issue again. You were glad to see that she was eating, and hoping that it was a sign of her quick recovery.

The girls went to bed early that night, you gave them a quick bath and managed to read one story before the girls were out like a light. With a kiss to their foreheads and a firm tuck into bed, you headed into your room and threw on a pair of freshly cleaned pajamas.

“God, what a day…” you mumbled, curling up in bed and putting a pillow over your face. You tried to take solace in the idea that once Hyo Bin was feeling better, you would be getting yourself ready for another dinner date with Hoseok. That made you excited, and it made you motivated. Thoughts of that day helped you relax enough to fall asleep.

You had slept for about 3 hours, before the sound of feet rushing into your room startled you awake. Sitting up, you saw Min Ja standing at the end of your bed. Turning on the light, you saw Min Ja looked frantic, eyes wide.

“Min Ja? What’s wrong?!” You gasped.

“Hyo Bin is coughing super loud, Mommy…I think she’s throwing up.” Min Ja said. Almost immediately, you jumped up and hurried into the bedroom, the sound of your daughter gagging, coughing and sobbing just as she was the previous night. Upon entering the room, you saw Hyo Bin standing up in her bed, face pale as she was covering her mouth.

“Hyo Bin.” You hummed, scooping her up in your arms. She clung to you as you led her into the bathroom, giving her a toilet to continue any throwing up she had to do. You sighed, rubbing her back as you tried to calm her down. Min Ja was once again standing by the door, peeking her little head in as she watched her sister sob into your arms. “It’s okay, baby. It’s okay. Your tummy is just not ready to eat the food right now. It’s okay.” As Hyo Bin finally calmed down, her body shaking as she coughed, you let out a deep and frustrated groan.

The flu was a bastard of an illness, and you just wished you could take the burden of this pain from her, and get rid of it faster.

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