#He draws Terminator and offers it to me

[totalperspectivevortexx]

I forget writing my own comic goes from silly thing I do for fun to manic pixie dream girl as soon as I take a single step into a public space.

[threewaysdivided]

Hobson Heckled into Historical Haute-Couture

Continuing the Dan Jones & Dragons gala parade with Hobson, the Flower Crowns' oft-harried Halfling Warlock (played by the ever-wholesome Dan Floyd). Is he trying to massage away the realisation that letting his literally-half-brained patron choose his gala attire might have been a mistake? Is Valse giving him a headache over something else entirely? Did he use Detect Magic in a room full of powerful items and accidentally flash-bang himself? Yes.

More Flower Crowns Gala Outfits: Morenthal | Gelnek

As always, design talk under the cut:

But before that, a short story: I've been following Dan's content on Youtube for... oh jeez, that sure is almost a decade now, both on his current New Frame Plus/Playframe channels and back when he was the primary founder and narrator for EC. His old games education videos helped me get one of my earliest jobs in project work and introduced me to a bunch of media production concepts (like scope management) that would go on to inform some of my own storytelling analysis posts. It was a startling little moment of artistic ouroboros to realise I was mentally running through key points from Dan's own Pose Design 101 video as I was drawing his DnD character. Never expected things to come full-circle like that, but if you're seeing this, Dan: here's to you 🫡 If you're not Dan and haven't already, do go check out his stuff - it's all super well-produced, informative, funny and he's just an overall stand-up guy.

Now: onto the tiny little nerd and his passé party attire

This was a really fun costuming challenge, with a bunch of interesting curveballs thrown in the mix. Unlike the rest of the Flower Crowns, Hobson didn't choose his own party outfit: it was picked out by his patron after Valse kibbitzed him into giving up and letting a heroism-obsessed Fey call the shots. Dan cited Valse as having the fashion sense of Stede Bonnet-as-depicted-in-OFMD, briefing a vaguely 19th century-style outfit that had frilled sleeves and 'would have looked gaudy even when it was in fashion a century earlier'.

Actually dating his outfit was the first challenge. D&D settings are kind of an anachronistic uchronia, with classic swords-and-sorcery fantasy campaigns potentially pulling inspiration points from anywhere across the Arthurian era up to pre-war modernity. Which leads to the question: how do you make something seem dated in a setting where most everything looks vaguely ye-olde-fantasy? The other challenge was that, IRL, the 19th century (i.e Victorian era) was when menswear started taking on a lot of the shapes that would eventually become modern suit and top-'n'-tails fashion. Since Trilby was already going to be wearing classic top-'n'-tails formalwear, I decided to set Hobson's style earlier in the 1800s-1820s and pull in some 18th century Stede Bonnet flourishes to visually set them apart. This article provided some great reference images, and once I hit on the figured silk waistcoat I knew I had a potential starting point.

Colour-wise, I stuck with the burgundy-and-gold palette the Dans gave Hobson in his official gala stream art, since those looked good together and matched up with Dan J's tendency to draw Hobson wearing greens/earth-tones and Valse in reds/jewel-tones. The combination is a lot more colourful and richly saturated than is typical for this style of Victorian-adjacent clothes, which felt appropriate for Valse's gaudy tastes.

Fabric-wise, I figured a fun way to gaudy things up even further would be to lean into the silks and satins that were fashionable at the time, but make all of his outfit shimmery rather than just a single feature piece. As a bonus, silk and satin clothes tend be hot, inelastic and have horribly itchy seams if worn unlined, which felt like exactly the kind of thing Valse's all-form-no-function sensibilities would inflict upon the small, long-suffering fellow. Both these fabrics also have a habit of behaving hideously and ripping themselves apart when worn wet, which makes this a great outfit to, say, accidentally fight an Aboleth in. Poor Hobson.

Some other details, just for fun: 1. Hobson's sketch layers include a drawing of his un-removable cursed left bracer. He's pulled the frilly, puffy sleeve over it but you might spot hints of the shape and the gem if you squint. 2. The reference waistcoat I used had floral embroidery on it. Had this actually been a Hobson outfit, I would have converted them to his garland flower (Forget-Me-Nots), but since it was a Valse pick I decided to make them Senaliesse chrysanthemums; a flower given out to friends of the Feywild's Summer Court as a sign of protection and favour. (It also adds extra layers to Pocket mistaking Hobson for a denizen of the Fey, which is fun).

Close crop on the details because I'm very happy with how they turned out:

[xo100]

Airport - LN4

*:･ﾟ Summary: Lando Norris offers a woman, who missed her flight, a ride on his private jet to Monaco. They bond over light conversation and flirting, leaving with the possibility of seeing each other again.

*:･ﾟ Word count: 1323

୨ৎ

The race weekend had been long, grueling, and filled with adrenaline. Lando Norris was ready to head back to Monaco, to the comfort of his own home where the sound of engines could be swapped for the quiet of the Mediterranean breeze. As he made his way through the airport, sunglasses perched on his nose and his cap pulled low, he weaved his way through the flow of people without drawing too much attention to himself.

It wasn’t until he neared the private terminal that he noticed something out of the ordinary: a young woman standing near the gate of a commercial flight to Monaco, her expression a mix of frustration and panic. Lando slowed his steps, curiosity piqued. She stood there, gazing hopelessly at the closed gate, gripping her passport tightly. Her bags were tossed haphazardly by her feet as though she’d raced through the airport only to fall seconds short of making it to her flight.

The sharpness of disappointment etched on her face was all too familiar. He’d been in similar situations before, dashing through airports, missing flights by mere moments. Only, she didn’t seem to have the luxury of a private jet waiting just down the hall like he did.

Lando hesitated. He didn’t know her story, but something about the way she stood there, looking so defeated, tugged at him. He glanced at his watch. His jet was leaving soon, but he still had time. And, well, maybe this wouldn’t be the worst idea. What was the harm in offering a bit of help?

He pulled his cap down a little further and crossed the distance between them, moving casually as though he were just another traveler making his way to his flight.

“Missed your flight?” he asked, his voice light but laced with concern.

She turned to look at him, startled at first, then quickly took him in—cap, sunglasses, and all. Recognition flickered in her eyes, but it wasn’t overwhelming. Just a flicker.

“Yeah,” she breathed out with a weak chuckle. “By about three minutes. They wouldn’t let me through even though the plane is still sitting there.”

“That’s tough,” Lando said, giving her a sympathetic smile. “Where you heading?”

“Monaco,” she said with a shrug, though it seemed like a more resigned gesture. “Guess I’ll have to wait for the next one.”

Lando nodded, glancing around the terminal. The airport was buzzing with the usual chaos, and he could see the stress rolling off her shoulders. He thought for a second, then made a split decision. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

“I’m heading there too,” he said, slipping his hands into his pockets. “I’ve got a private jet leaving soon. If you want, you can take the flight with me.”

Her eyebrows shot up, and her lips parted slightly, a mixture of surprise and hesitation crossing her features.

“A private jet?” she asked, a little skeptical. “Isn’t that...a bit much?”

Lando laughed softly. “Maybe, but I’ve got plenty of room. Plus, you look like you could use a break from airport stress. I promise it’s less chaotic than commercial flights.”

She blinked, clearly processing his offer. The idea of getting onto a private jet with a guy she just met—even if he was Lando Norris—probably wasn’t something she had expected when she woke up that morning.

“That’s...really kind of you,” she said after a moment, her voice soft. “But I couldn’t—“

“Sure you can,” he interrupted, his tone teasing but warm. “Think of it as a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. You miss your flight, and instead of waiting around, you get to fly in style. How often does that happen?”

She laughed at that, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly. “When you put it like that…”

Lando grinned, taking her hesitation as a positive sign. “C’mon, what’s the worst that could happen? You get to Monaco an hour earlier, and we both get some company for the flight. No need to sit around waiting for the next one.”

She looked at him again, weighing her options. He could see the internal debate playing out in her eyes—logic versus the sheer spontaneity of his offer. Finally, she sighed, her lips curling into a tentative smile.

“Alright,” she said, running a hand through her hair. “Why not? But I’ll warn you, I might be a terrible conversationalist after the day I’ve had.”

“That’s okay,” Lando replied with a wink. “I’m known to talk enough for two.”

With that, he grabbed one of her bags effortlessly, motioning for her to follow him toward the private terminal. She trailed behind, still looking a little shell-shocked, but there was something about the ease of his manner that made her feel less anxious about the whole thing.

As they walked, Lando kept the conversation light, asking her about her trip and how she ended up almost missing her flight. She shared a story about how her taxi had gotten stuck in traffic, the minutes ticking away as she helplessly watched the airport get closer and closer. Lando laughed, offering a few of his own travel horror stories in return. By the time they reached the sleek jet waiting on the tarmac, the mood between them was light and comfortable.

-

“You weren’t kidding,” she muttered as they approached the aircraft, eyes wide as she took it all in. “This is...wow.”

Lando chuckled and waved a hand. “It’s not bad, right?”

They climbed aboard, and soon enough, they were airborne. The hum of the engines was soothing, and the view of the clouds stretching out below them was a peaceful contrast to the chaos of the airport they’d left behind.

“You know,” she said after a while, leaning back in her plush seat, “I still can’t believe I’m on a private jet with you. This feels surreal.”

Lando smirked, leaning forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees. “Trust me, I’ve been in a lot of surreal situations lately. This one’s pretty tame.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “I guess that’s fair. Monaco, huh? Do you live there?”

“Yeah, for a while now,” he replied, glancing out the window. “It’s a nice place to unwind after the craziness of race weekends.”

“I’ve always wanted to visit,” she admitted. “I mean, I’ve been through a few times, but never really had a chance to stay.”

“Well, maybe this is your chance,” he said, eyes twinkling. “What’s your plan once we get there?”

“I was supposed to meet a friend,” she said with a sigh. “But it’s not set in stone. What about you?”

“Just heading home,” Lando said, then added with a teasing grin, “But if you need a tour guide while you’re there, I might be available.”

She raised an eyebrow, a smile tugging at her lips. “Are you offering to show me around Monaco, Lando?”

“Maybe,” he said, his grin widening. “Depends if you’re up for it.”

She laughed softly, glancing out the window again. “I might take you up on that.”

For the rest of the flight, the conversation flowed easily, peppered with light flirtation and comfortable silences. There was something so natural about it—like they’d known each other for longer than just a chance meeting in an airport.

As the jet began its descent toward Monaco, Lando glanced over at her, feeling a strange sense of contentment.

“Guess we’re almost there,” he said.

”Yeah,” she replied, though her tone held a hint of reluctance. “Thanks again for this, Lando. You really saved my day.”

He flashed her a playful grin. “Anytime. Maybe I’ll see you around Monaco.”

“Maybe,” she said with a smirk of her own. “But next time, let’s hope it’s under more normal circumstances.”

“Deal,” he replied with a wink.

As they stepped off the jet and into the warm Monaco air, Lando couldn’t help but think that maybe missing her flight had been the best thing that could’ve happened to either of them that day.

୨ৎ

*:･ﾟ Notes; thank you for reading, I hope y’all enjoyed! Remember requests are open if you would like to request something. Also question for you guys, is there someone who can help me with the link of the requests so I could put it in my masterlist? I don’t know where to find that link, DM me if you know.

[colormepurplex2]

Shatter With Me | Waving The White Flag

↳ Model!Jungkook x Surrogate!f.Reader ⤜ Surrogacy, Best Friend's Husband ⤜ Rating: MA 🔞 ⤜ WC: 18,286 ⚠️ Crass language, talk of infertility, drinking, very mild bullying and references to cruel behavior/words, talk of surrogacy, at-home medical procedure, genital touching (non-sexual), planned pregnancy, talk of pregnancy termination/abortion, BIG hurt feelings, open palm slapping, accusations of infidelity

Next Chapter⇾ ◅ Back to story masterlist

Jungkook

Jungkook never thought he’d be haunted by such a small, seemingly insignificant thing. A tiny pastel pink line. Singular. Just like all the ones before it. He’s lost count of exactly how many, but it’s been years; every month, the same outcome. A singular pink line telling him he’s failed. He knows that’s a bit harsh, but it’s how he’s starting to feel—like a complete and utter failure.

“We’ll try again next month,” Jiyoon offers, dropping the offending piece of plastic in the bathroom trash before giving Jungkook a tight smile.

“Have you given any more thought to trying IVF again?” Jungkook asks hesitantly, knowing that’s a sore subject. But, dammit, he’s not in the proper headspace right now to think better of it.

Jiyoon glares at him, her pouty pink lips drawing taut. “I told you not to ask me that ever again. Now, get out. I’d like to take a shower.” When Jungkook doesn’t immediately move from his perch on the bathroom counter, she tags on a frustrated, “Please.”

Jungkook hops down, his socked feet swishing over the tiled floor as he retreats into the master bedroom. The door forcefully shuts right on his heels, echoing the hollow ache in the center of his chest. He promised himself that if it didn’t happen this time, he’d just try harder next time.

Yet, there is only so much he can do. Pushing any harder might widen the rift slowly forming between him and his wife. Already, Jiyoon spends more time at work than with him. Her glares of irritation any time he seeks intimacy outside of their strict ovulation schedule are like holes being punched into his resolve.

After nearly two years of trying, he sought medical answers a year ago. Jiyoon was quite cross with him when she found out he went to the doctor, but he needed to know if it was his fault they were having trouble conceiving. The numbers were standard, slightly higher than average even. The utter devastation on Jiyoon’s face, he’ll never be able to forget that day. Because if he isn’t the problem…then that means she is.

It’s his fault. He wasn’t even thinking about that potential. Jiyoon hasn’t been the same since. That’s when the schedule came into play. That’s when she started to pour far more energy into waiting for the perfect moment instead of just enjoying their time together.

Jungkook can see the disappointment, the guilt that eats away at her each time that single pink line reveals itself. He wishes more than anything there was a way to change it, something more he could do. Yet, she refuses to consider the option of IVF, not after the horror story she heard from her friend Dani. She refuses to even talk about it.

There has to be another way; he’s just not sure what it might be. Jungkook is at a loss, and it feels like the weight of the world is sitting heavy right between his shoulders. The shower kicks on in the bathroom, and Jungkook decides to busy himself by making Jiyoon a cup of tea for when she gets out. He knows she’ll want to spend some time relaxing before bed, and tea always helps.

💔💔💔

Not a day goes by that you don’t think about your best friend, Jiyoon, and the unfortunate circumstances that have befallen her and her husband. It’s not a secret amongst your peers that they’ve been trying to start a family with no luck for several years. It breaks your heart every time she gives you a shake of her head when you look at her with hopeful eyes.

Today isn’t any different. You’re sitting at your desk, absently clicking through the latest portfolio files you got from Namjoon, when Jiyoon walks by your desk, heading toward hers. She’s half an hour late this morning, something that’s pretty routine every few weeks. It’s like clockwork. You’re aware of the ovulation schedule that she and Jungkook keep and know that she allows herself extra time the morning after taking a test to steel herself against the disappointment that will come from the pitying stares in the office.

You catch her eye as she settles into her desk chair, and she gives you that subtle shake of her head. There is tension in her shoulders, and her bottom lip looks like she’s been chewing on it in irritation, but she turns around and gives you her back before you can think to question her about it.

“Morning, Jiyoon,” Namjoon says as he steps out of his office. Namjoon is also well aware of the unfortunate circumstances surrounding Jiyoon and Jungkook. It’s why he doesn’t hassle her about being late, something you’re endlessly grateful for.

Jiyoon is your only friend, and you are very protective of her. Well, that’s not entirely true. The protective part is, but she’s not technically your only friend. She’s just the longest friend you’ve had and the one you hold closest to your heart—your best friend. Though, even still, everyone else are really just people you know through Jiyoon or from work. Maybe that’s sad, but you don’t mind it.

“Jiyoon!” Dani squeals from the other side of the office. The bubbly, energetic woman flits across the room, looking every inch like a fairy with her blond pixie cut, petite stature, and buttoned nose.

“Oh gosh, hey. Come here!” Jiyoon swings her chair toward Dani as she beckons her forward, letting you catch a glimpse of her profile. There is a smile on her face, but it’s hard to tell whether it’s strained or not. Jiyoon has always been beautiful, with not a single wrinkle or blemish in sight. Looking at her body language, it’s even harder to tell.

Giggles punctuate their whispered words as Dani crouches beside Jiyoon’s chair, their heads pressed close together. You watch as Dani slips something into Jiyoon’s hand before she stands and waggles her brows down at your friend.

“Have fun,” Dani sing-songs as she prances away from Jiyoon’s desk. Her gunmetal eyes meet yours, and her face sours before she disappears beyond your cubicle.

“What’s that?” you ask a beat after she’s gone and before you can curb your curiosity, tinged with mild jealousy. Dani has made it clear before that she doesn’t like you very much, only tolerating you for Jiyoon’s sake. So, it’s no surprise that you don’t find yourself included when it comes to anything involving Dani—it’s something you’ve chalked up to her own jealousy, perhaps at the fact you’ve been Jiyoon’s friend for so long.

Jiyoon flicks her eyes in your direction before stuffing whatever Dani gave her into her purse. “Just some antacids,” she says, giving you a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.

All suspicions disappear as you take in the controlled curve of her lips. She looks miserable. “Oh,” is all you can manage before Namjoon calls everyone’s attention to the front of the room.

“Good morning, everyone. Let’s start this week off on the right foot. We have reports to file and new contracts to negotiate…”

You and Jiyoon have always aspired to work for a marketing and media agency together. So, when the opportunity presented itself, you both were elated to land jobs with Kim Exclusives, one of the most popular management companies for up-and-coming artists, models, and influencers.

That was seven years ago, and your time here has only solidified your friendship with Jiyoon. She met her husband, Jungkook, through the agency. He was one of the first models signed to Kim Exclusives, and you and Jiyoon both handled his portfolio and schedule for a year before she had to give you sole leadership over it once they became intimately involved—the whole conflict of interests thing.

“Are we still meeting tonight?” you ask Jiyoon as the day draws to a close. She’s still diligently working away at her computer, and you stand outside her cubicle with your bag on your shoulder.

“Hmm? Oh. Umm, yeah, I guess. I might be a bit late, though.”

You peek over her shoulder. “Is that the new Song profile?”

“Yep,” she pops the end of the word, keying you into thinking she's not in the mood to chat right now.

“Okay, well, I’ll see you guys later then.”

Jiyoon makes a noncommittal sound, already focused back on her work. You miss the days when she would give you more than a few passing words. Even on her good days, it seems like she’s growing further and further away from you. It’s hard not to feel guilty over the bitter and lonely feelings you get when you think about it. It’s not Jiyoon’s fault that you don’t have more close friends to turn to. But sometimes you wish you meant as much to her as she does to you.

As soon as that thought crosses your mind, you mentally kick yourself. It’s not fair for you to think that. You know Jiyoon cares for you; she’s just had a rough few years, and you shouldn’t be making it about yourself.

Feeling truly like a shit friend, you continue to chastise yourself over the next two hours as you commute home and get ready for tonight. Five minutes away from the pub, you consider calling Jiyoon and canceling. But, just as you pull out your phone to do that, someone calls your name from down the sidewalk.

You turn to see Taehyung and Jungkook waving at you from across the street. Well, there goes your intention to cancel.

“Hey! Have you heard from Jiyoon?” Jungkook asks as he and Taehyung jog across the street.

You press your lips into a thin line, confused. “Did she not come home?”

“Ah, no. She said she was working late and that I should just go ahead and meet up with you and Taehyung. She’s, uh, well, she’s not answering my calls. We—this morning…sorry, just, have you talked to her?”

Doing your best to keep your eyes on his, you give him an honest answer, “She was still working when I left the office. I haven’t heard from her since.” Losing the battle against your will, your eyes sweep over your best friend’s husband. He’s just as gorgeous as he always has been. His hair is a little longer than the last time you saw him, licking at the collar of his denim jacket. As the lead on his contract, you know he recently landed a massive campaign with a new clothing company, their emblem stitched onto the breast of the coat. Jungkook looks every inch the model he is; his friend no less so.

“Hey! Happy Birthday!” Taehyung greets you as your eyes swing to him.

Warm embarrassment kisses your cheeks. You hate your birthday; you hate being the center of attention. “Thanks,” you murmur, giving him a tight smile.

“Oh, yeah, happy birthday,” Jungkook tacks on. He rubs the back of his neck, giving you an apologetic look. “Should we go ahead and go inside?”

“Yeah, sure.” As Taehyung leads the way inside, you type out a quick text to Jiyoon asking how long she’ll be.

Thirty minutes later, you’re sitting in a mildly withdrawn personal bubble of silence as Jungkook and Taehyung chat about work and sip on fingers of liquor. You’re normally not so silent with them, as they have been clients of yours for years but you’ve also grown to think of them as friends. It’s just you have a lot on your plate right now, Namjoon just added three new clients to your work portfolio, putting you at juggling almost a dozen. You don’t mind the added workload, it helps keep you busy, but it does mean you have to switch around your schedule a great deal and have less time to spend with Jungkook and Taehyung who are two of the longest portfolios you’ve managed. They have a joint ad campaign coming up for the whiskey they’re sampling right now and are trying to decide if they actually like it or not.

Over the years, you've learned that advertisements are just that—a cleverly crafted piece of media to highlight a product. The models in a hamburger ad could very well be vegan, but they’re paid to make you believe otherwise. So, even if they decide they don’t like the whiskey, money will say they do.

Taehyung is a bit newer to Kim Exclusives, a model by complete accident. He came into the office once with Jungkook, just friends hanging out with each other, and the moment Namjoon saw him, he had to have him. A few weeks later, Taehyung was added to the roster of elite models under Kim Exclusives, booking just as well as any veteran.

“It’s a little too smokey for me, I think,” Taehyung comments. “What do you think?” he asks, setting his glass on the table and startling you out of your thoughts.

“What?” You blink up at him, totally lost.

“Give it a taste.” He taps the rim of the glass. “Tell me what you think,” he encourages, pushing the glass closer to where your hands are clasped together on the table.

You don’t really want to try the whiskey, but the expectant looks on Taehyung and Jungkook’s faces make you pick up the glass and take a tentative sip. It burns across your tongue, coating your throat in a fiery, smokey blend of burnt spices. The flavor sits like ash in your mouth.

“It’s, uh…”

“Not great, right?” Jungkook gives you a lopsided grin, his shoulders stretching the seams of his jean jacket as he shrugs. “It’s okay to be honest about it.”

You slide the glass back across the tabletop toward Taehyung. “Yeah, it’s not great. It might be better on ice, but I’m not a big drinker, so I think it’s hard for me to judge it fairly.”

They both seem satisfied with this response and resume their conversation about the whiskey and the new campaign. You check your phone, wondering where Jiyoon could possibly be. There is no response to your text.

You’re picking at the frayed edge of the paper coaster that’s slowly growing waterlogged from the condensation dripping down your glass of ice water when Taehyung taps on the table in front of you, trying to capture your attention.

“Isn’t that right?” he asks.

“Sorry. Is what right?” You feel heat bloom in your cheeks at being caught not paying attention yet again.

“You’re healthy.”

That statement has confusion replacing your embarrassment. “Healthy?”

“Let me backtrack,” Taehyung says, leaning back in his seat and throwing an arm over the back of Jungkook’s chair.

“Taehyung, really, this isn’t the time—”

“Ahem,” Taehyung interrupts Jungkook’s protest. “Hypothetically speaking, if your best friend and her husband were to inquire of you about the possibility of surrogacy, what would you say?”

The dots aren’t connecting for you, and his blunt question makes you feel like you missed something important. “Surrogacy?” You don’t mean to sound like a broken record, repeating what Taehyung is saying, but you’re thoroughly having a tough time understanding.

“Listen, you don’t have to answer that,” Jungkook states, shaking his head at Taehyung and giving him a pleading look that says to stop while he’s ahead.

“Are you and Jiyoon looking into a surrogate?” you ask; everything suddenly clicks into place, and the question tumbles from your lips before you can stop it. 

Jungkook grips the back of his neck and grumbles something incoherent towards Taehyung before he blows out a heavy breath and his eyes slowly rise to meet yours. “Not exactly, no. We haven’t talked about it yet. It’s just something I read about today. But, honestly, you don’t have to answer the question. Taehyung is just being a dick—”

“I’d do it.”

Your response leaves Jungkook with his mouth open and jaw slack as he stares at you in bewilderment.

“See, I told you. She’s perfect. Young, healthy, and someone you know and can trust,” Taehyung tots off, waving a finger in the air.

“Wait…are you serious?” Jungkook asks, pointedly ignoring Taehyung.

You’ve never considered being a mom before, at least not in that sense. It was always an assumption that it wouldn’t be in the cards for you—the whole lack of a love life thing being the crux of it. You’ve barely had a handful of boyfriends, much less a long-term commitment that would lead to a family. But, when it comes to Jiyoon, you’d do just about anything for her. So, if she asked you to carry a baby for her, you know, without a doubt, you’d do it.

“Y-yeah. Yes,” you state with more confidence. “I’d do that.”

Before Jungkook can respond, Jiyoon bustles in through the bar's front door, her lilting laughter drawing everyone’s attention. She has her phone pressed to her ear, and she’s smiling at whatever the person she’s speaking to is saying.

“Okay, yeah. Tomorrow sounds great. See you then,” Jiyoon says before ending the call and pocketing her phone. “Oh, Taehyung is here.” It’s a bland statement, Jiyoon’s eyes flicking over Jungkook’s best friend before landing on her husband. “Did you order me a drink already?”

Jungkook clears his throat, trying to compose himself before speaking. “Babe, hey. Um, no, I wasn’t sure when you’d get here. You weren’t responding to any of my calls or texts.”

Jiyoon slides into the empty seat beside you, across from Jungkook, and gives you a quick smile before wrinkling her nose in his direction. “I’ll take a glass of red.”

“Oh-kay,” Jungkook says slowly, a look of confusion ghosting over his features. “Where have you been?”

“Hmm? Oh, just busy with work,” Jiyoon says. “Wine, please, Jungkook.” His only response is a tight press of his lips before he stands up and disappears in the direction of the bar. Jiyoon clicks her tongue and angles herself to look at you. “You’re not drinking?” she asks, eyeing the glass of water on the table in front of you.

“Um, no. You know I don’t—”

“I know, you’re boring,” Jiyoon sighs. The only thing taking the sting out of her words is the smile she gives you. You know Jiyoon isn’t exactly what people would call a nice person; in fact, she’s often coined as a ‘mean girl.’ But she’s never been intentionally mean to you, not really. She just provides constructive criticism and encouragement to be the best version of yourself that you can be.

“Way to be a bitch to her on her birthday, Jiyoon,” Taehyung mumbles into his whiskey glass before tossing it back and downing the rest.

Jiyoon winces and then plasters a smile on her face before saying, “Right, happy birthday.”

“Yeah, thanks.” You make your best attempt at nonchalance, but you’re not sure it lands properly as Taehyung shakes his head, and Jiyoon sighs again.

“I forgot, okay? It’s been so busy at work and with—uh,” she pauses for just a second, and any other time you might not have noticed, but you can’t help but pick up on the way she rushes to continue, “the new client that you know Namjoon has been breathing down my neck over. The Harper portfolio, you know the one? And apparently, the Song profile needs to be redone on top of that.”

Jiyoon has been different lately. You’re aware that she took over one of the new higher-end clients, some big hot-shot movie star or something like that, but it’s almost made her seem like she thinks she’s above everyone else. It makes things tense sometimes like everyone is on edge when she comes around. You try to ignore it, for the sake of tonight. “It’s okay, Jiyoon, really.”

“Anyway, how are things going? It’s been a few weeks since we last talked about something other than work.”

Yeah, because every time you turn around Jiyoon is spending time with Dani or has a client meeting. You shrug. “Okay, I guess.”

Taehyung pipes up in the silence that follows, “We were actually just talking about surroga—”

“Red wine for my wife, another whiskey for Tae, the good stuff this time, and a pina colada for the birthday girl. Virgin, I made sure. I know you don’t like to drink alcohol,” Jungkook interrupts Taehyung, passing out the cluster of drinks in his hands.

You stare up at Jungkook, lips slightly parted as you try to think of the proper response, completely taken off guard by his gesture. Finally, you lamely offer, “Oh, uh, you didn’t have to, but thanks.”

“Nonsense. It’s your birthday, you deserve a little treat, and I know you like pineapple.” Jungkook settles back into his seat, and you try to keep your eyes off your best friend's husband. But it’s hard with how his hair falls into his face, and the denim hugs his shoulders as he relaxes against the back of his chair.

“Ew,” Jiyoon gags dramatically, startling your attention in her direction. “Is that a jacket from the shoot today?” She gestures at Jungkook, the distaste apparent on her face. “I know they didn’t dress you in that. What were they thinking?”

Jungkook frowns, staring down at the oversized light-wash jean jacket. “You don’t like it?” he asks.

Jiyoon scoffs, “It looks ridiculous, you look ridiculous. What the hell did you do to your hair? A mullet, really? It’s a wonder you’re a model. You were okay with this?” The last part is directed at you, because, as the lead on his profile, you’re the one who signed off on the hair and makeup for the shoot.

“Hey now,” Taehyung states loud enough to quiet the table; he’s clearly not having any of Jiyoon’s antics tonight, long work day or not. “Keep your petty bullshit opinions for when you’re at home. Tonight isn’t about you or how handsome my best friend is in his jean jacket and new hairstyle.” You can tell he intentionally calls Jungkook his best friend instead of Jiyoon’s husband as an extra jab.

“I never said he wasn’t handsome,” she grumbles, rolling her eyes before looking at Jungkook and sighing. “Sorry, dear, I’m just under a lot of stress. You know I didn’t mean it.” Her eyes flick to yours. “I know it’s not your fault.” You just give her a subtle shake of your head, not sure how to respond.

Clearing his throat, Jungkook smiles, though it doesn’t reach his eyes, and tries to move the conversation along. “It’s okay. Let’s just focus on why we’re here tonight.” He swings his eyes toward you, his smile becoming genuine, and begins to loudly belt out Happy Birthday, much to your dismay. This draws the attention of everyone else in the bar and earns you a generous round of applause when the singing finally fades.

You try to enjoy the rest of your night, but every time Jungkook catches you staring at him, you can’t help but feel a small spike of guilt; guilt over the perhaps tiny, mostly insignificant, completely harmless crush you might, perhaps, maybe have on your best friend’s husband.

It’s hard not to be attracted to him; Jiyoon knows that—she flaunts that fact. She also knows her claws are deep in him, and he’s not going anywhere. Jungkook would pull down the moon for her and then ask if she wanted the sun, too. You swallow down the last of your pina colada, eyes once again locked on Jungkook as he throws his head back and laughs at something Taehyung said.

Jiyoon presses her arm against yours, leaning in close to you. In a soft voice meant only for you, she whispers, “He really is perfect, isn’t he?”

“Hm? Who?”

“Don’t play coy with me,” she giggles drunkenly. “I know you were staring at him. My husband.”

You shrug. “I wasn’t staring.”

Jiyoon sighs wistfully. “It’s okay to stare, I don’t mind. I know what he looks like, after all. He’s so beautiful when he’s happy. I wish I could give him what he wants, he’d be the perfect father…I’m so scared to lose him.” The last part is whispered, so soft it’s hard to hear.

Instantly, your guilt turns into something else: resolve. You can’t bear the defeat you hear in her voice. It’s not something you can even begin to fathom—what she and Jungkook are going through. It’s no wonder she has caustic words at times. You meant what you said earlier, what you told Jungkook you were willing to do. With that in mind, you make a mental note to start researching and do what you can to make sure at least someone gets a happy ending here.

💔💔💔

Jungkook

The night of your birthday kept playing over and over again in Jungkook’s head the days that followed. Now, just as evening is rolling around, one week later, he can’t stop thinking about what you said, your confirmation. On top of that, that night was probably the most fun Jungkook has had in a long time—as long as he excludes the prickly start after Jiyoon arrived. He’s used to her snide and biting remarks after a long work day. Brushing them to the side and sweeping them away is usually easy.

But for some reason—perhaps it was the high he was riding after your confession and confirmation—it bothered him that she was doing it in front of Taehyung—in front of you. As if somehow her criticisms might make you both believe them. Not that he cares about being good-looking to Taehyung, or you for that matter, not really. It’s just that his first thought was what if that made you change your mind? Not necessarily whether or not he’s attractive, but the exchange as a whole. What if Jiyoon’s blatant criticisms made you want to change your mind because it somehow planted doubt in your mind that they’re a happy and healthy environment for a child?

“Jungkook.” The frustrated snap of his name brings him out of his thoughts. His eyes focus on the bathroom mirror once more, on Jiyoon, who is standing behind him with her hands on her hips, accentuating the flattering cut of the navy-colored dress she’s wearing. “Are you even listening to me?”

Turning and leaning back against the counter, Jungkook gives her his full attention. “Uh, yeah, sorry. You were talking about having dinner with a client tonight, and you’re leaving now to meet with Dani so you can get some files.”

“Yes,” she says, her lips twitching in mild surprise, and Jungkook knows she was expecting him not to have been paying attention. “I don’t know how long the dinner will last, so don’t wait up for me. It’s likely I’ll be home late.” She turns to go back into the bedroom, and Jungkook isn’t sure what possesses him, but he surges forward and gently snags her wrist, turning her back toward him. “Uh?” she makes a sound of mild questioning irritation.

“I have something I need—er, want—to talk to you about. It should only take a moment.”

She shakes his hold off her wrist and gives him a placating smile. “Okay, well, talk while I finish getting ready at least.” Not waiting to see if he follows, she disappears into the bedroom and heads to the closet, rummaging through her jewelry.

“Okay, um. Okay,” Jungkook stumbles over his words, feeling like he’s under pressure for some reason. “So, the other night, it was brought up in conversation, and uh, she already agreed, and it’s just that, well, there’s this thing called intracervical insemination and…how do you feel about surrogacy?”

There is a heavy pause, dread threatening to make Jungkook backpedal and eat his words just to snatch them back out of the air. Jiyoon glances at him over her shoulder, but he can’t get a clear read on her eyes. “What? Oh, yeah, sure,” she says, turning back to her digging.

Jungkook can’t tell whether Jiyoon is the one paying attention to him now, so he probes further, just to be clear. “You mean that? You’re okay with going the surrogacy route? My sperm, her egg…your best friend carrying our baby?”

Jiyoon’s back is to Jungkook, but he watches how her shoulders slide up in a shrug. “Of course, why wouldn’t I be?”

“I’m not sure, it’s just that with ICI—”

“Look, Jungkook,” Jiyoon says, turning to face him fully. Her fingers work at slipping a pair of silver hoops into her earlobes. “I trust you.” She says the words slowly, keeping her eyes intently locked on his. “I know you’ll do your best for us. Whatever you want, it’s what I want, too. You know that.”

“Well, um, do you have any questions? We should talk…discuss this, er, something. I know how you feel about IVF. I want to make sure this is an option you truly want, and you’re not just saying this to make me happy. You should take some more time to think about it.” The fact she’s so quick to agree makes Jungkook question whether or not he’s hearing what he thinks he’s hearing.

Jiyoon cups one of his cheeks, gently thumbing over his bottom lip. “I don’t need time to think, because I’ve already thought about it. I—well, I was going to bring it up to you soon, but I wanted to do a bit more research first.”

“Wait, what? Really? You were thinking about ICI, too?” Jungkook swallows hard, leaning into his wife's warm touch.

“Yeah,” she whispers, her soft smile making her eyes twinkle and his heart melt.

Jungkook can’t help letting his eyes drink in his wife. They might have been going through rough patches the last few years, but that hasn’t lessened how he feels about her. Jungkook has always found her strikingly beautiful, with long legs and shiny hair that he loves to run his fingers through. But at this moment, he feels like he might burst with the love he has for her.

“Yeah? Okay. Okay,” he tries to suppress the emotion in his words. “Okay, perfect. I love you. I love you so much!”

Jiyoon laughs, and it sounds magical, as Jungkook sweeps her into his arms and plants a kiss on her lips. “Don’t smear my lipstick, please,” she mumbles, her voice light and playful.

“Go have a good dinner, secure the client, and don’t worry about anything else,” Jungkook bubbles happily, setting Jiyoon back on her feet. “I swear I’ll take care of it all. Everything will be perfect, absolutely perfect.”

An hour later, Jungkook walks up to your apartment door. He couldn’t stop himself earlier, so he immediately texted you and asked to see you as soon as Jiyoon left for Dani’s.

The door swings open before he can knock, revealing you standing there breathless and in a set of purple checkered pajamas. “Is everything okay?” you ask, worry lines creasing between your brows. “Your text sounded urgent.”

“Oh.” Jungkook feels terrible for making you concerned. He didn’t mean for it to come off like that. “No, I mean, yes, everything is okay. But, no, it’s not exactly urgent. Sorry for that. I didn’t mean to make you worry.”

You lean against the doorframe, eyes wide on his. “What is it?”

“Er, uh, do you mind if I come in? This is more of a sit-down kind of conversation.”

The little ‘o’ your lips form is far cuter than Jungkook has a right to think it is. His mind instantly latches onto it, wondering if the baby would have your lips or his. “O-okay, sure, come on in.”

Jungkook has visited your apartment a handful of times over the years. It’s quaint and cozy, exactly what he’d imagine for you. There are books everywhere, shelves full of thick and thin volumes of literary prose. A few art pieces decorate the walls, along with dozens and dozens of black-and-white photos in simple frames. He stirs up the recollection that you enjoy photography in your spare time.

“Sorry, again, about my text. I didn’t mean to worry you, really.” Jungkook feels nervous, unsure where to stand or even sit, until you gesture toward the couch. A handful of well-loved decorative pillows are scattered across the burgundy suede. He settles at one end as you take the other, looking at him expectantly.

A beat or two passes, and Jungkook feels like he’s about to swallow his tongue until you open your mouth, clearly picking up on his distress. “Is it something with work? I can try to fix whatever it is first thing in the morning—”

“No, no,” Jungkook holds up a hand, shaking his head. “It’s not work. It’s um, it’s actually Jiyoon. Well, me and her, specifically.”

You pull your knees up and tuck your feet underneath yourself. “Oh, okay.”

“Were you serious about what you said the other night?” Jungkook blurts, figuring it’s best, like ripping off a bandaid.

Your bottom lip has an indent left from where you tucked it between your teeth before nodding. “Yes.” Jungkook didn’t necessarily expect you to say no, but the rush of relief he feels at hearing that encourages him to press on.

“I talked with Jiyoon about it today and she—we—would be honored if you’d do that for us. If you’d give us a chance at having a family. It’s…it’s something we both, deeply, deeply desire. If you’re truly serious about it, we’ll take care of everything, all medical expenses, bills, anything…just name it, it’s yours.”

“That’s—okay, okay, yes. Yes, I’ll do it. Just tell me what I need to do.”

Jungkook whoops loudly, jumping up from the couch, and drags you into his arms for a bear hug. “Thank you, thank you, thank you! I can’t even begin to explain what this means to me, to us. This is…I can’t…oh my, I need to—wait, okay. Sorry, let me calm down for a second.” The word vomit is real, and Jungkook uses his hold on you to ground himself, moving his hands to your shoulders and locking his eyes on yours. “I think I might pass out,” he whispers a second before bursting into a giddy laugh.

“Whoa, um, sit down. Please don’t pass out on me. You’re too big for me to catch!” Your frantic words make him laugh even harder.

He shakes his head, on cloud nine. “I’m kidding, kind of. I just feel…I feel so light, like—well, it doesn’t matter about that. What matters is you. Please don’t feel obligated to do this. That’s the last thing I want. If you are serious, I can send all the information you need to you in the morning. But only if you’re certain.”

“Jungkook,” the way you say his name makes his heart thump heavy in his chest as if his fate hinges on whatever comes next. “I am serious. I promise. I want to do this for you, for Jiyoon…I want to give you both the happiness you deserve.”

“Thank you,” Jungkook says fervently, never meaning something more in his life.

This happiness carries Jungkook through the rest of the evening, turning into a brilliant flame of intimacy when Jiyoon crawls into bed beside him hours later. For the first time in a long time, there is no schedule, no waiting for the perfect moment; it’s just the love shared between two souls celebrating the joys of life.

💔💔💔

The following day, several emails from Jungkook are waiting for you; Jiyoon CC’d on them all, as well as a few texts to check in. The idea that you could possibly be pregnant in the coming weeks or months—not just pregnant, but pregnant with Jungkook’s baby for your best friend—still feels a bit surreal.

You texted Jiyoon last night, expressing to her how much she means to you and that you’re honored she wants it to be you that helps her fulfill her dreams of having a family. She hasn’t replied yet, but that doesn’t bother you; she’s probably busy helping Jungkook with planning.

There is an entire email dedicated to medical referrals. Apparently, Jungkook spent hours pouring over all the local doctors and medical facilities vetting to find the best ones. Each has notes and suggestions under them, along with all the information you might need to call and make an appointment.

That’s really all you need to do: make an appointment for a check-up. Taehyung made an assumption of your health last night, but it doesn’t hurt to be sure. The last thing you’d want to do is be in poor health and unable to keep your word.

Your fingers tremble as you dial the numbers, and you have to take a few shallow breaths to get your voice to work properly. Minutes later, you have an appointment scheduled for later this week. Now, all you have to do is figure out how you’re going to wait the next few days and not burst from anticipation. It’s a slow few days.

Apparently, by Googling every possible thing you can think of about being a surrogate and pregnancies. Along with the emails full of information, by the time you’re walking into the clinic for your appointment at the end of the week, you feel confident asking questions.

“Being a surrogate is a pretty serious situation. Have you considered all the possibilities and what might be required of you?” The doctor has a pleasant demeanor; her eyes are intense yet kind. It might be the steel-colored strands scattered through her hair or the wrinkles that deepen around her eyes when she smiles, but you feel comfortable opening up to her.

You roll your lips between your teeth before saying, “Honestly? Probably not as much as most surrogates. I’m sure there are things I’m not aware of yet. It was only presented to me a few days ago. But I have done some extensive reading and soul-searching, and I know it’s what I want.”

Dr. Lee contemplates you for a moment before nodding. “Yes, I believe you do. Let’s get started, shall we?”

It’s not uncomfortable going through all the tests and procedures. There isn’t much the doctor does that you haven’t done before. Samples are taken, and a routine exam is performed. As you leave, the nurse tells you you should have results within the next two weeks.

Thankfully, the results come at the beginning of the following week. You’re sitting at your desk at work, reviewing the final details for the whiskey campaign Jungkook and Taehyung are shooting in a few days, when you get the notification that your results are viewable on your patient portal. A moment before you click into the email, your phone buzzes in your pocket.

“Hello?” you whisper, cupping your hand around the base of your phone and mouth. A nurse rattles off your information, ensuring she speaks to the right person. “Yes, speaking.”

“I just wanted to let you know that all of your results are in, and Dr. Lee has signed off on your request to move forward with the surrogacy…” Everything else the nurse says is a bit hazy. She covers the numbers for your tests and where to find resources for more information on at-home intracervical insemination. “Do you have any questions for me? Ma’am, are you still there?”

“Oh, umm, yes, sorry. No questions, thank you so much.”

The line disconnects, and you sit there for a few more moments, the phone still held to your ear, as you try to process the giddy feeling bubbling up inside you. You need to tell Jiyoon, Jungkook, someone…anyone. Pushing up from your desk, you scan the area around you for your best friend and come up empty.

“Hello?” Jungkook answers on the second ring.

“Jungkook.”

“Oh, hey. Everything okay?”

“What? Oh. Yes. Yes, everything is okay. Everything is perfect. Do you know where Jiyoon might be? I haven’t seen her since she came into the office this morning.” You rack your brain, trying to remember if you saw her leave or go into another room.

“Yeah, she called a little while ago and said that Namjoon was having her meet one of the new clients for lunch to sign some more papers.”

“Right, that’s right,” you say, recalling that Namjoon asked her to come into his office shortly after she arrived this morning.

“Why? What’s up?”

You drag a slow, shallow breath into your lungs in an effort to slow your rapidly beating heart. “I heard back from the doctor.”

Jungkook urges you to continue, “Yeah? What did they say? Is everything okay? Are you okay?”

“I’m…I’m great. I’m perfect. I’m—I, I can do it. We can do it. There’s a chart,” you explain, wedging your phone between your ear and your shoulder to free your hands so you can pull up the email you got and forward it to him. “It has an estimated schedule and recommendations on timing for the best results. I just sent everything over to you.”

“I got it. Wow. Okay. Wow. Oh my…wow! I need to call Jiyoon. Fuck. Oh my god. Okay, thank you! I’ll call you back later, okay?” The line disconnects after Jungkook says a hurried goodbye, the elation in his voice evident.

According to the doctor's ovulation chart, the best time for you to begin trying is next week. Conception is most likely during a twenty-four-hour period. On your way home, you stop and pick up an ovulation testing kit so you can remain on track.

You arrive home filled with nervous energy, unable to stop smiling as you unpack the things you picked up at the pharmacy. A large box of pregnancy tests goes beside the ovulation kit in your medicine cabinet, along with a pack of medical gloves and hand sanitizer. You’re not sure what you’ll need, exactly, but you figure it’s better to have it and not need it than the other way around.

“Jiyoon!” you gush, swiping to answer the call coming in on your phone. “Hi!”

“Hey, I just got off the phone with Jungkook.” There is a lot of background noise, and it’s hard to hear her clearly.

“Oh, wonderful! I got the results today. There is a possibility of next week being—”

A loud laugh cuts through from Jiyoon’s end, the added clang of dishes drowning you out further. “Sorry, I’m still at dinner. Next week, you say? I’ll be going on a business trip the whole of next week, Namjoon wants me to travel with a client for a go-see.”

Disappointment drags at your shoulders and has your smile softening into a frown. You suppose it can wait a few more weeks. “Okay, no problem. That will give us time to plan a bit more anyway.”

“Sure thing!” Jiyoon yells, the line cutting out momentarily. “I’ll catch you later. I can’t wait to see you when I get back. Thank you. I love you so much!”

“Okay, yeah, love you—” The line goes dead before you can finish. “Love you, too,” you murmur into the quiet of your apartment.

A minor setback. But it’s okay; you’re sure you were getting ahead of yourself anyway. Taking a few weeks to confirm things and actually come up with a game plan is probably for the better. But it doesn’t hurt to start doing that now. Letting the smile that hadn’t left your face most of the day slide back onto your lips, you continue setting up everything in your bathroom so it’ll be there for when you do need it.

It turns out you don’t have to wait—at least, according to Jungkook. From the constant flood of text messages you’ve gotten from him over the last few days, as much as Jiyoon would love to be there to help, she’s given her blessing to proceed with the ICI without her. In her own words, via a text you got last night, there will be plenty more for her to be present for, and she’s far too excited for you to wait for her to return.

Jiyoon has been relatively quiet, but Jungkook explained in delicate words that she’s okay; she just has a lot on her plate right now. Even though it may seem like she’s on the outside, it’s more that this is a very sensitive topic for Jiyoon. Despite wanting a child, ICI is nearly as taboo a subject as IVF when it comes to Jiyoon; you know this. She’s told you how much it makes her feel like a failure. So, you’re content when Jungkook takes full responsibility for the surrogacy journey and has promised to be there for you every step of the way, including coming over to your place tonight to help you with the first ICI attempt.

You’ve been testing your ovulation each morning, and the positive test strip in your bathroom trash has started a full-tilt, day-long extravaganza. It’s a Thursday, just a few days after you got your green light from the doctor, meaning you were able to leave work early and are now sitting on your couch waiting patiently for Jungkook to arrive.

All your research and reading about ICI makes you nervous about what’s to come. It’s not that you’re going to be explicitly intimate with Jungkook, but you’re well aware of the fact that fresh sperm samples, as in within a thirty-minute window, are the best. Which means, he’s going to have to somehow provide the sample while he’s here.

The idea of Jungkook masturbating in your bathroom should feel awkward or perhaps embarrassing to think about, yet you’re oddly comfortable with it. It’s a natural thing, something necessary to create something that’s going to be beautiful.

By the time Jungkook knocks on your door, your hands are clammy, and it takes you two tries to get the handle to turn. He greets you with a giant smile and shining eyes, absolutely breathtaking.

“Hi,” he breathes.

“Hi,” you parrot, unable to contain from reflecting the smile still on his face. “Please, come on in.”

“Thanks.” Jungkook steps past you, and the soft fragrance of his laundry detergent catches in your nose. “I brought everything we need,” he says, holding up a bag. He’s wearing the same denim jacket he was the other night, a white T-shirt underneath above a pair of worn, light-washed jeans, and black boots on his feet that he toes off before heading into your living room.

“Can I get you anything to drink or maybe something to eat? Have you had dinner yet?” You’re not sure how this is going to go, if it’s just going to be a clinical experience or something more comfortable between friends. Because you are friends, right? At this point, you should consider him more than just your best friend’s husband; he should at least be seen as a friend of yours, too.

Jungkook deposits the bag on your couch and turns to look at you. “Um, maybe if you had some beer or something, but I know you don’t drink—” There is a nervous energy to the way he’s talking, words coming out a little too quickly “—so, er, maybe just some water is fine.”

“Actually,” you say, hurrying into the kitchen and opening the fridge, “I got, well, is this okay?” You hold up a 6-pack of beer you bought on a whim a few nights ago. It’s true that you don’t really drink, but you weren’t thinking of yourself at the time that you bought it. In actuality, you were thinking of Jungkook, knowing he’s partial to this brand, and figured…well, you’re not sure what you figured, you bought it before you could give it too much thought.

The corner of Jungkook’s mouth lifts, his smile turning into a light smirk. “Wow, my favorite. I’d love to, but actually, I’m not sure if I should, no matter how nervous I am right now…not until after, at least. I haven’t read anything about how alcohol might impact things, but I’ve not had a drop of alcohol to drink nor a bite of junk food in the last week, just in case.”

“Oh, right. Of course, I should have thought about that.”

“No, it’s okay. I wasn’t thinking either, I haven’t been able to think about much at all, if I’m being honest,” Jungkook laughs nervously, one of his hands rubbing at the back of his neck. “Is this weird? Are you sure you want to do this?”

It is weird, but not in a bad way, and you don’t want to admit that because you don’t want him to worry. So, you simply smile and shake your head. “It’s not all that weird, it’s…well, just not weird. I am nervous,” you decide to give him at least that. “I’m worried that it might not work, or that I might do something wrong.”

“W-what do you think you might do wrong?” Jungkook asks, moving closer to you. “I’ve…I’ve read a lot about the how, I even got an informational video from my doctor.”

You can feel heat crawling up your neck. “I’m not sure, exactly. I guess just the whole process in general.”

There is a beat where you can see Jungkook contemplating his words. He chews on his bottom lip, eyes unfocused for a moment before returning to you. “I could help if you want. Purely in a platonic, helpful way, no funny business, I swear.”

“Um, I don’t know if that…uh, I can try first, maybe?” You can’t seem to swallow past the thick knot in your throat at the thought of asking Jungkook to help assist you in…well, that.

“Sure, okay. Should we…get started?” Jungkook asks, his eyes flicking back to the bag he dropped on your couch. 

Your stomach flips at his words. “Yeah,” you say, voice barely above a whisper, feeling suddenly even more shy than usual.

“Great.” Jungkook claps his hands together before retrieving the bag from the couch. “I have everything we need. It's probably best if we begin this in the bathroom.”

Your apartment has one bathroom, which is joined to the bedroom but is still accessible through the hallway. Jungkook leads the way down the hall, flicking on the light inside the bathroom before stepping aside to let you in as well.

“Have you talked with Jiyoon?” you ask, seeking something to fill the silence as you watch him unpack everything from the bag and arrange it on the bathroom counter.

Jungkook shakes his head in a so-so manner. “I spoke with her for a few minutes earlier to let her know the plan for tonight. She couldn’t talk long and it was hard to hear with all the background noise, but she’s excited and said she can’t wait to be back at the end of the week.”

After washing his hands, Jungkook opens up the packet of a large sterile pad and spreads it out across the rest of the counter. From the research you’ve done, you recognize some of the things he begins to set out. There is a collection cup with an orange screw-on lid, a large syringe with a hose attaching it to a bulbous silicone mushroom-shaped plug, and several single-use packets of water-based lube. He also sets out a box of pregnancy tests, giving you a sheepish smile when you raise an eyebrow at it.

“I, uh, bought some, too,” you say, opening the medicine cabinet to show him the large box of pregnancy tests sitting between your ovulation test kit and your toothbrush.

Jungkook smiles. “I guess we’re on the same wavelength, huh?”

You have to stop yourself from leaning too far into the unusual, yet enticingly warm and appealing, feeling you get when he smiles like that. Clearing your throat, you gesture to the spread of tools. “What now?”

“I think we should discuss a game plan, make sure we know what to do and when to do it. There are some things I’ve read online, plus the directions in this pamphlet,” he says, slipping a folded paper from the box the inseminator came in.

Leaning in, you try to read the step-by-step process written on the paper over Jungkook’s shoulder. He shifts, steps closer to you, and angles the pamphlet to make it easier for you to see.

“Step one, collect the sample. Step two, transfer the sample into the syringe. Step three, insert the silicone plug into the…v-vagina,” you choke over the word, feeling heat licking up your neck, “as close to the cervix as possible. Step four, depress the plunger to administer the sample.”

“Seems pretty simple, right?”

You’re not sure you’d say simple. Sure, step by step, it looks pretty straightforward, but you seem to be responsible for the most challenging part, and that makes you even more nervous than before. “Yeah, simple.”

“Give me a few minutes, I need to—uh,” he points to the sample cup. “I’ll, you know.”

“Oh, right, right, of course. I’ll just—" you hook a thumb over your shoulder towards the door that leads to your bedroom ”—wait in there.”

It’s hard not to pace around your bedroom as you wait. You try to stick to the far side of your bedroom, not wanting to come too close to the bathroom and overhear anything you shouldn’t. The fact your best friend’s husband is in your bathroom masturbating is a weird enough revelation, albeit a necessary one for the ICI procedure; you’d still rather afford him some privacy.

After three minutes, you stop counting the seconds that pass, realizing that means you’re counting how long it takes for Jungkook to produce the sample. Which is something you’re vehemently trying to avoid thinking about so casually.

The bathroom door opening startles you, stopping you in your tracks. Jungkook clears his throat. “Ready?”

You move over to the bathroom. “I think so.”

“Hey, it’s going to be okay. You can do this and don’t forget, I’ll be here if you need any help, promise. Purely for help, for the process.” Jungkook swipes a finger in an x over his chest. “Cross my heart.”

“You’re right,” you say, trying to bolster your own confidence. “I can do this.”

You step past Jungkook and into the bathroom, but his hand on your arm pulls you up short. “Wait, wait. Would you feel more comfortable doing it in your room? It’s just that I’ve read it’s best if you could lay on your back with your hips elevated for fifteen to thirty minutes after.” He nods at your bed. “More comfortable than the bathroom floor.”

The idea of doing this on your bed crosses a line, taking this from a medical process to something far more intimate. “Maybe just a pillow,” you say, grabbing one of the decorative throw pillows you never seem to remember to put back on your bed but keep in a small pile on the floor instead.

“Okay.” Jungkook gives you a small smile, and it makes his eyes look soft and bright. The kind of smile you hope you can help him bestow onto a baby.

You leave the door unlocked, just in case you need his help. In your bathroom, there is no evidence of Jungkook's actions other than the very full sample cup sitting on the medical pad covering the counter.

The cup is warm to the touch, which is startling, though you know it shouldn’t be. Placing the pillow down on the floor, you shimmy your pants and panties down your legs and step out of them. There is a lingering scent in the bathroom; it’s a mix of Jungkook’s cologne but also of something clinical. You realize there are two empty packets of lube in your trashcan, and you can’t help the image that pieces itself together in your mind.

Swallowing hard against the threatening flood of further indecent thoughts, you move quickly to prepare the inseminator. It’s a systematic process you can do with little thought—safe—unscrewing the cap of the cup and filling the syringe. Once you’re in position on the floor, hips elevated on the pillow, empty packets of lube discarded and your body primed, you take the silicone plug in one hand and the syringe in the other.

The directions make it seem so easy. But as you try to fit the silicone plug inside, you can’t seem to get it to go where you want it. It keeps slipping sideways and tugging at the tube connecting it to the syringe. Your heart begins to race as you realize you might not be able to do this—not on your own, at least.

By the fourth try, fifteen minutes have passed, and you’re in full-blown panic mode. Your breath wheezes in and out as you crunch up, hands fumbling between your thighs, and sweat forming on your brow. “Oh god, oh god. I—uh, god dammit…Jungkook!” His name is out of your mouth in a strangled yell before you can stop it.

“What is it? Is everything okay? Are you okay?” The frantic words are muffled through the door. The door rattles on its hinges, and you can tell he’s pressing up against it from the sound of denim scuffing along it, probably pressing his ear against it in an effort to hear your response.

You’ve managed to get it inside, but you’re not sure if you can get it all the way in, pressed up against your cervix where it needs to be. It’s possible you used too much lube, though the idea that it’s possible to have too much lubricant seems ridiculous. But no matter what you do or how far you press your fingers in, you’re either at a wrong angle, or your fingers keep slipping on the plug too much. Asking Jungkook for help is the last thing you want to do, but you’re not sure what other options there are.

“C-can you come in here?” you ask in a hoarse voice. There is a moment of silence before the door eases open and Jungkook sticks his head inside. His eyes are closed so tight it makes you let out a snap of nervous laughter. “I think…I think I need help. I’m sorry, I just can’t—it’s not going in all the way, I don’t think,” you gush in explanation.

“Do you—is it okay if I?” Jungkook asks, leaving the obvious unsaid.

“Um, yes…please. I’ve tried, and I just…I don’t want to ruin this. I’m so sorry.”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” Jungkook shuffles into the bathroom, eyes still firmly closed and arms out in the air. “Um, where exactly are you so I don’t step on you by accident?”

Snagging the edge of the towel hanging on the rack, you pull it down and drape it over your knees to make yourself as decent as you can be in this situation. “Just open your eyes, it’s okay.”

Slowly, his eyes peek open and finally land on where you’re laid out on the floor, bent knees covered in a towel and your shirt askew from all your efforts.

“How can I help?” Jungkook kneels down beside you, shrugging out of his jacket and tossing it to the side.

“I just…I don’t know if it’s all the way in. Can you—with your hand, I know that’s horrible and weird, but I don’t know what else to—”

“No, no, it’s not weird. I said I’d help. It’s clinical, right? We’re doing this just as a medical procedure. Like I said, no funny business, I swear. It’s for the baby. I’ll help you.”

“Okay.” You nod, squeezing your eyes shut because it’s hard to look him in the eye when he’s about to—the towel shifts, and cool air licking between your thighs has your mind going blank.

“Look at me,” Jungkook requests, to which you immediately comply. “I need you to promise me you’ll let me know if I hurt you or do something you don’t like. I’ll stop immediately, okay?” When you don’t immediately say anything, he adds, “I need you to tell me you understand.”

“I understand.”

Stretching across to the sink, Jungkook keeps his eyes on yours as he washes his hands and then shifts the towel more, folding it up and over your knees. “I’m going to place my hand on your thigh. Is that okay?”

“Yes.”

His fingers are gentle against your skin, softer than you expected, and warm from the water. You can feel errant droplets of water streak down your thigh and roll over the bottom of your ass. You try to focus on that feeling instead of the way Jungkook’s hand trails down your thigh until his fingers graze your outer lips.

“I’m going to use two of my fingers to try and seat the inseminator. Is that okay?”

“Yes,” this time, it comes out as more a breath than a word.

You tense at the subtle press of his fingers and how they probe their way down until they find your entrance. There is easily enough lube down there to grease a bakery’s worth of cake pans, considering the half a dozen empty packets now in your trashcan, but you can’t help but take a deep, fortifying breath as he begins to press in.

“Still okay?” he asks, fingers moving achingly slow.

“I think so.”

Jungkook’s brow pinches. “I feel it…only about two inches in. I’m going to push it further now. Tell me if it hurts or is uncomfortable.”

Never in a million years did you think you’d ever find yourself in this position. Not only are you butterflied open on your bathroom floor, but your best friend’s husband is now middle-knuckle deep in your vagina, and you’re not sure how to feel about it. In fact, you’re trying to do everything you can to not think about how you stretch around the intrusion of his fingers, or that it feels far better than it should.

“Do you think you can get it all the way?” you ask, voice warbling with nerves.

Jungkook hums, his lips pushing out as if he is trying to concentrate. “I think I’m almost there. Does that feel okay, is it good?” 

Not once does he look away from you as he’s pushing deeper into your body. You think you want him to look away, to break that intimate contact, but you can’t even bring yourself to do that—even though you know you should. And the whispered exchange does little to help. Is it good? You’re going to burn in hell for the thoughts now flooding through.

“Oh!” You jolt in place, eyes going wide, all previous thoughts gathering into one singular point. Jungkook mirrors your surprise, his mouth popping open in silent shock.

“I’m so sorry!” he babbles. “I didn’t mean to do that. Oh fuck, god damn, shit…okay, sorry, let me just—” Jungkook is still gentle, yet swift in finishing seating the inseminator before quickly extracting his fingers from your body. “Please believe me when I say I am sorry, and I swear I wasn’t trying…I wasn’t trying to do that.”

Your body is still buzzing from the that he’s talking about—the graze of his thumb over your clit. It’s clear it was an accident by his reaction, but it does nothing to lessen the pulse that is now singing through your body.

“I-it’s okay. Really, it’s okay. It’s fine.” You’re not sure if your words are convincing enough, but Jungkook jerks his head in what you assume is a nod of acknowledgement.

“Um, it’s, uh, it’s in. Do you need me to do the syringe, too?”

“Just do it.” You exhale a shaky breath, finally tearing your eyes away from his. You’re confident he’s still watching you, even as he depresses the syringe and injects his cum into your body—as crass as that sounds in your head, that’s exactly what’s happening, and it’s the first time you think you’re realizing how truly fucked you are for this.

Nothing has happened between you and Jungkook, not in that way, but for some reason, guilt won’t leave you alone. You feel like you’ve just betrayed Jiyoon and feel even more like a ridiculous schoolgirl ruining her life over a crush on a boy. You’re intimately aware of the warmth and the subtle change in pressure as he finishes depressing the inseminator. It makes you want to squirm, but you chew your bottom lip and tap your toes instead.

“Are you okay?” Jungkook asks, his voice soft and gentle.

“I should be asking you that,” you sigh.

Jungkook balks. “What? Why would you say that? I’m fine…I’m the one that—” He nods toward where your body is now covered with the towel again. As soon as he was done plunging the depressor, he unfolded the towel and made you decent once more.

“You didn’t mean to,” you say, maybe more as a reminder to yourself than him.

“No, but that doesn’t make it okay.” Jungkook settles back on his heels, using one of the wet wipes that came in the kit to clean his hands. Suddenly, he laughs. “This is ridiculous, right? I mean, look at us, we just did something…beautiful, and we’re not allowing ourselves to enjoy it.”

You chuckle softly, fidgeting with one of the ends of the towel. “It is kind of ridiculous, huh? Sorry that I freaked out and you had to do…that.”

”I’m not. Sorry, that is. I’m glad you asked for my help. We’re in this together.” Jungkook gives you a smile, similar to the one he wore when he knocked on your door over an hour ago, and takes up the hand not pinching at the towel in his, squeezing it. “I don’t know that I can even begin to articulate with words just what this means to me. Thank you so much.”

“It means a lot to me, as well. Being able to do this for you and Jiyoon is not something you need to thank me for. I’d do anything for her. She’s my best friend. We’ve been through so much together over the last twenty years…I just want to see her happy. You, too, of course.”

Jungkook hums in the back of his throat, keeping his hand wrapped around yours as he leans back, using the side of the tub for support. A comfortable silence settles between the two of you, spanning several minutes until Jungkook speaks again. “Have you ever thought about being a mom, you know, before this?”

It’s on the tip of your tongue to answer with what you think he wants to hear, that this has always been your wish, but instead, you choose to give him an honest answer. “Not really.”

”Why not? If you don’t mind me asking.”

If it were anyone else asking, you might mind, but…

You purse your lips before offering yet another truth. “I guess I just…I’m me, you know?”

”No, I don’t think I do know. What do you mean?”

“I’m a single woman in my thirties with no prospects on the horizon. My last boyfriend was over five years ago. I’m a modern-day spinster. Nothing is wrong with that, I love who I am…I just, no one has ever shown interest in me like that. Though it’s not necessary to have another person in the picture, it’s just that…I don’t even know, I’m rambling, sorry.”

Jungkook looks at you for a long moment, and it’s so hard to read his expression. All you want to do is plead with him to tell you what’s on his mind.

“You shouldn’t do that to yourself,” he finally says.

”Do what?” you ask, uncertain what he’s referring to.

“Sell yourself short like that. You are easily one of the hardest-working people I’ve ever met. You have a successful career and amazing tastes in art and food. Not to mention, you have the biggest heart of anyone I know. You’re…you’re amazing, and I know for a fact that people think so, too.” 

You puff out a breath, trying not to laugh at him. “How could you possibly know that?”

“Because I’m one of them. I wouldn’t choose just anyone to do this with. After all, the baby will be half of you, too. A win-win in my book.” The corner of his mouth tilts in a small smile.

You’re pretty certain you’ve never had something create such a viscerally emotional response in you. It takes everything you have to blink away the sudden onslaught of tears that threaten to overwhelm you.

When you finally think you can speak without melting into a blubbering mess, you whisper, “I think you’re pretty amazing, too.”

💔💔💔

Jungkook

It’s well after midnight by the time Jungkook makes it home. He’s positively buzzing and can’t even think about going to bed just yet. There is far too much going on in his head, so he decides to expend some energy in the tiny home gym he turned one of the spare rooms into.

The condo he and Jiyoon bought two years into their marriage is spacious, spanning half the second and third floors of the building. There is a three-car garage on the first floor, as well as an elevator that leads to the landing out front. Across the landing is where Taehyung lives with his roommate Jimin, another well-to-do model they met through Kim Exclusives.

Jiyoon stuck her nose up at the fact that Taehyung was buying the unit across from them when Jungkook first told her, but so far, it hasn’t caused too many problems over the years. It helps at times like this, when Jiyoon is traveling for work, to have a friend so close by. Usually, Jungkook would knock next door when he can’t get his head cleared, but for some reason, Jungkook doesn’t want to tell Taehyung about what happened at your place. He doesn’t want to tell anyone, for that matter, holding onto it as a private thing for as long as possible.

Losing himself in sets of squats and curls is far safer than describing in maddening detail the way your soft, lush—Jungkook slams his hand against the squat rack and forces his thoughts away from that line of thinking.

Just because you’re a gorgeous woman with a nice body doesn’t give him the right to think about you like that. Especially considering he’s married to your best friend, whom he loves more than anything. Besides, he’s better than that, knows the whole alpha male hindbrain is the stuff of fantasy. There is no excuse for him having such sordid and outlandish thoughts about you like that. It was simply doing what needed to be done to help—for the baby.

With that in his mind instead, he moves through the motions of his workout. By the time he’s dripping sweat and his muscles are trembling with fatigue, the sun is starting to peek through the windows, and he hasn’t thought about you in hours—well, not much, at least. And when he does, he says it's just because he's thinking of what might be passed down to your baby—er—his and Jiyoon's baby—he reminds himself.

It’s been an excruciating three weeks waiting and waiting to hear from you about something other than work. After Jiyoon returned home from her business trip, Jungkook told her about that night, including the accidental slip-up. At first, she was upset, accusing him of taking advantage of her best friend. It took hours of strained conversation to get her to understand that it was more of a clinical procedure than Jungkook fingering you.

When that accusation was first thrown out, Jungkook was at a loss for words and completely thrown off the tracks. Jiyoon apologized, saying she didn’t understand how he didn’t think she’d be upset about it but that she’d forgive him for it anyway. She then gathered Jungkook into her arms, and they cuddled in bed for the first time in what felt like forever.

Jungkook wasn’t sure if Jiyoon would confront you at work over it, but as the days continued on without a peep from you, he figured things were okay between the two of you. There were times when Jungkook wished something had gone down with you and Jiyoon because then, at least, he’d have an excuse to talk to you in a way that didn’t make him look like he only cared about you now that you were possibly pregnant or with something work-related.

He knows these things take time, and there is only so much he can do. So, he’s been pouring himself into work and filling his schedule with as many activities as possible to keep his mind off of waiting.

“Jungkook, let’s go.” Taehyung raps his knuckles on Jungkook’s shoulder, grabbing his attention. “Head out of the clouds, daddy-o, we’re needed in hair and makeup.”

Sighing, Jungkook hauls himself off the couch in the studio waiting room and follows Taehyung into the space where the makeup and hair artists are set up. He arrived at the studio early this morning and had spent the last hour spilling his guts to Taehyung, something he promised himself he wouldn’t do but couldn’t keep it contained any longer.

“Don’t call me that,” Jungkook grumbles.

Taehyung smirks. “What? Is that not what you’re hoping to be called? Don’t tell me you and Jiyoon are into daddy roleplay. That might make it a little weird to have your kid also call you daddy—ow!”

Rubbing the back of his head where Jungkook smacked him, Taehyung harrumphs before sidestepping the line of chairs and taking a seat in the one farthest from Jungkook.

“Fuck off, Taehyung. After everything I just told you, that’s all you have to say?”

Taehyung throws up his hands, and the hairdresser at his station begins to comb through his black tresses. “The way it seems to me, you’re the only one making a big deal about this. If you want to check on her, I’m sure she won’t think it’s only because she’s your possible surrogate and not because you’re friends after this. And sure, you stuck your fingers into your wife’s best friend’s vagina, but so what? It was what you needed to do. If I really needed you to touch my dick in order to complete an important procedure, I hope you’d do it with a smile on your face.”

Jungkook opens his mouth to protest but closes it when he realizes he can’t really argue against that. Taehyung is right. He did what he had to do. Hell, he knows that, he used those words himself when explaining it to Jiyoon. There’s just this feeling he can’t shake, he’s far too nervous and on edge right now. If only you’d reach out, put him out of his misery with an update.

“I hate it when you’re right. I’ll stop being such a—”

“Hi, guys.”

“Excuse me, ma’am, only staff and models are allowed back here.”

“Whoa, hey, wait. She’s our manager, and she can be here.” Jungkook is quick to spout, not caring if there is desperation evident in his voice. Once his eyes landed on you, it was all he could do not to jump up from the makeup chair, cross the room, and drop to his knees and beg for an update.

The directing assistant who stepped in your path gives you a once-over that makes Jungkook grind his teeth, but he just sighs and steps to the side. “Okay, but you’re both needed on set in fifteen,” he says, directing the last part toward Jungkook and Taehyung.

“It’s okay, I won’t be long. I just…” You hold up a thin manilla envelope and give it a shake. “Jiyoon is out of the office for the day, she said I should let you see first and that you could tell her later tonight at home. So, here I am. I thought we could look together.”

The makeup artist dabbing a sponge on Jungkook’s jaw lifts an eyebrow when he jerks forward in the chair, intent on scrambling across the room despite being in the middle of blending.

“Two minutes,” she says, stepping back from Jungkook and turning to the makeup collection on her table.

“Okay!” Jungkook springs from the chair and rushes over to you, having no regard for the way his hair flops out of place on his forehead. “Hi,” he says when he’s standing in front of you. “I didn’t realize you had an appointment today.”

“I didn’t,” you tell him. “I just wasn’t feeling all that well this morning, so…well, I just wanted to ensure everything was okay. They had to do a pregnancy test, it was routine.” You offer the folder to him. “Want to do the honors?”

Jungkook’s fingers are trembling as he takes the folder from you. It takes him three tries to get the flap open and to extract the slip of paper inside. You give him an encouraging smile as he looks to you for reassurance before letting his eyes sweep over the report.

“It’s…we’re…you’re…holy fuck. You’re pregnant. You’re pregnant! YOU’RE PREGNANT!” Jungkook shouts before breaking out into a bout of ecstatic laughter. “Fucking hell, oh my god, you’re pregnant! I’m going to be a father. Me. A father. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Yes!”

You join in his laughter, the sound pleasant and musical, as he throws his arms around you and spins you in a circle. There are shining tears in your eyes when he sets you down again, happiness clear on your face. “I’m pregnant,” you whisper, the words reverent and full of awe.

There have never been more beautiful words. Jungkook can’t help but say them again. “We’re pregnant.”

It’s hard to say if what Jungkook is feeling right now is considered a healthy response to what his wife, Jiyoon, just told him. But, the erratic beat of his heart paired with the incessant ringing in his ears doesn’t necessarily feel bad, just like he’s having some sort of out-of-body experience.

“Say that again,” he requests, softly smacking his lips, trying to work moisture back into his mouth.

Jiyoon sighs, shuffling the papers on her lap. “I’m pregnant,” she repeats the same words you said just two weeks ago.

“You’re certain?” Jungkook wants to believe he heard her correctly but can’t help asking for clarity again.

“I am.” Jiyoon smiles at Jungkook, her eyes watery. “It’s right here, look.”

Jungkook hesitantly takes the top sheet of paper from Jiyoon, letting his eyes devour the words and numbers on it. It’s all there, everything he needs to see and know for the truth—hCG levels far, far above average, an inked red circle around it along with a doctor’s barely legible scrawl of ‘pregnant’ beside that.

“How far along? It’s been—” Jungkook pauses to try to do the math in his head; it’s been weeks since they were last intimate—the night they agreed to do ICI. 

“About eight weeks,” Jiyoon offers. “I suspected a few weeks ago, you know, when I was a little sick that weekend—the one when we found out about, well, I didn’t want to get my hopes up or disappoint you if it wasn’t true, especially after such good news…so I scheduled an appointment. I had to be sure, had to be certain.”

“You’re pregnant.” The words feel thick on Jungkook’s tongue, like he’s trying to talk through a mouthful of peanut butter; sweet, decadent peanut butter.

“I am,” she whispers, the confirmation turning into a squeal of laughter as Jungkook sweeps her into his arms and shouts his own happiness.

Peppering kisses all over Jiyoon’s face, Jungkook hops around, alternating between shouting how much he loves her and how he can’t believe his luck. “I’m going to be a father. Twice! What did I do to deserve this?! I love you so much. Fuck!”

“Calm down,” Jiyoon giggles. “Put me down before you make me hurl.”

“Oh, yeah, sorry.” Jungkook pants, setting Jiyoon back down on her feet. “I’m just so excited!” He wiggles his hips and shimmies his shoulders. “We’ll need to order a second crib. Should we have the babies share a room at first? That seems the easier option, right? I bet there is a book on that somewhere, I need to go—”

“Hey, calm, right?” Jiyoon’s smile is warm, soft. “We have time. There is no need to rush. Can we just enjoy this for a little while longer?” she asks, grabbing one of his hands and placing it over her belly.

“Yes. Yes, yes, yes.” Pressing his forehead to hers, Jungkook wraps his other arms around Jiyoon and sighs contentedly. “I love you so much, babe.”

“I love you, too, Jungkook.”

💔💔💔

Jiyoon seems nervous, pushing around the chopped salad on her plate as she chews her bottom lip. She hasn’t met your eyes the entire time you’ve been at lunch. You want to ask her what’s wrong, but you’ve been friends with her long enough to know that she’ll come to you with it when she wants, and pushing won’t do you any good.

“So,” she draws the word out, lips forming an exaggerated pucker.

“Yes?”

“How are you feeling?” You can tell that’s not what she wants to say or ask, but you indulge her anyway, hoping you’ll get to the actual matter of why she insisted on going to lunch with you today.

You shift in your seat, setting your fork down on your half-empty plate. “I feel good. I just have some nausea in the mornings sometimes, but it’s not too bad.”

Finally, Jiyoon’s eyes come up to meet yours. “I know what you mean,” she says, the words slow and enunciated—pointed. Her free hand flutters over her belly as if for emphasis.

“What?” The word is more breath than question. “You are?”

“I am,” Jiyoon confirms, tears shining in her eyes.

“Oh, my goodness! Jiyoon! What? But how? Oh my goodness! That’s wonderful!” You can’t contain your excitement for your friend, throwing yourself across the tabletop to hug her fiercely.

She’s laughing as you sit back down, clearly buzzing with her own excitement. “We just found out. It seems a miracle was in our cards after all. It’s still early, nine weeks or so now.” That would make it just two weeks, give or take, before you and Jungkook did the ICI.

“Wow,” you breathe, your own hand landing on your stomach. “They might as well be twins. It’ll be so cool—what?” Jiyoon’s frown stilts your excitement. “What is it?”

She casts her eyes away from yours again, pulling her full bottom lip between her teeth before letting it pop back out. “I don’t know. I just thought…it’s not too late if you wanted to—I just know it’s a lot on someone, your body, the pain and everything that comes after. And now that I’m pregnant, it’s just, we don’t expect you to continue…if you don’t want. We’d be completely understanding and fully supportive if you—”

“Termination? Is that…what you’re talking about? And Jungkook agrees?”

Her nose wrinkles. “I don’t like that word. I’m just saying that we will support your decision to do that if you’d like. It was never in the plans to have more than one child, and now it would be two newborns at the same time…that’s a lot, you know? Twice as many diapers, bottles, and sleepless nights. It would be hard to say goodbye, but we’d still love you and not think less of you for it.”

Your mouth feels too dry for you to form words. You know what she’s saying. Though there isn’t a single ounce of you that desires that, you also understand the hesitation Jiyoon is expressing. She’s right. There wasn’t a plan for two babies. So, what now? Do you volunteer to help? Do you seek out the advice of a lawyer to know where your parental rights might sit in the case they decide they don’t want the baby in the end? So many thoughts swirl through your mind that it makes you dizzy.

“Can I think about it?” you ask, feeling for the first time a wave of uncertainty.

Jiyoon gives you what you assume is supposed to be an assuring smile. “Of course. And if you decide not to, I’m sure we can come up with some sort of system. We’ll figure it out.”

She seems so sure that no matter your decision, it’ll all be okay. “Really?”

“Absolutely. I want—we want, these babies, even if we didn’t plan for two. I was just letting you know that there is that option if you want it.”

“I-I don’t think I do, but if that changes…I’ll let you know.”

“That’s all I ask! Now, tell me, what do you think it’ll be?” she asks, patting her flat stomach again. “A boy or a girl? I’m leaning more towards a boy…”

💔💔💔

Jungkook

Jungkook still can’t believe his life. Two babies—two extraordinary miracles, it’s surreal—perfect. His calendar has never been more full. There’s the regular schedule of photo shoots, meetings, and other client work but now those are penned in between the baby classes he’s signed up for and various doctor’s appointments.

One of which is scheduled this afternoon, just a few hours after another this morning. There is your ten-week and then Jiyoon’s three-month appointment. Things have been going great with the pregnancies being so close together, but it does sometimes make appointments and times overlap. Which is how Jungkook finds himself sprinting across the parking lot of Jiyoon’s doctor’s office. He’s late—really late. He didn’t mean to arrive so late. It’s just that your appointment ran a little longer than expected, and traffic wasn’t exactly on his side, either.

Just as Jungkook puts his hand on the handle to open the door to the doctor’s office, it swings outward, nearly smacking him in the face. Jiyoon glares at him, a peeved sigh escaping her.

“You missed it.”

“What? No. I still have—” he glances down at his watch. “The appointment should have lasted at least forty-five minutes, and it’s only been thirty.”

Jiyoon rolls her eyes. “They were able to get me in a few minutes early.” She pushes past him and starts towards her car. “Everything is fine, by the way. The baby is measuring small but is still healthy. Thanks for asking,” she snarks, holding up a length of printed film.

Jungkook grabs the strip from her hand, jogging to keep up with her angry strides. “Wow,” he whispers, looking down at the 2D images. “She’s beautiful, so tiny.”

“She? It could be a boy.”

“Is that what you hope it is?” Jungkook asks, skipping ahead of Jiyoon before turning and walking backwards in front of her. His eyes barely leave the black-and-white grainy images. He traces over the faintly-there contours of the face, the delicate nose and forehead.

Clicking the unlock button on her keyfob, Jiyoon sighs again. “I just want it to be healthy. I don’t care what gender it is.”

“You don’t care?” Jungkook purses his lips, finally looking up at his wife. She’s wearing a designer pantsuit, the deep navy complementing her porcelain complexion and making the red lip she has on pop beautifully. Pregnancy looks good on her. He opens his mouth to tell her so when she cuts him off.

“Don’t say it like that. Of course, I care. Good god, Jungkook, why do you have to make me feel like shit all the time? First you missed my appointment, because why? Because you were busy playing daddy to someone else. And now, here you are, accusing me of being a terrible mother before it’s even born. Fuck you. Fuck you, Jungkook.”

Jungkook is so confused. “What? I didn’t—playing daddy? What are you talking about? I already said I was sorry for missing the appointment, you know the times were really close. It was her ten-week appointment. They were measuring her nuchal translucency, you remember how important that is!”

“Whatever,” Jiyoon deadpans, pushing around Jungkook and climbing into her car. “I have a meeting tonight, don’t wait up for me.”

Before Jungkook can respond, the door slams shut, Jiyoon turns over the engine, and takes off. Maybe not everything is perfect, he laments to himself, mulling over his earlier thoughts. With a determined expression on his face, Jungkook makes his way to his own car and promises to do his best to make this right, vowing not to let something like this happen again.

Of course, it’s only some weeks later that Jungkook has to break this vow. It’s not his fault, it’s no ones. It seems that life just wants to test him, perhaps make sure he’s honing his time management skills for when the babies come.

Everything has been going great since his hiccup with missing Jiyoon’s twelve-week appointment. He’s been able to shuffle around his schedule and work with the both of you to ensure appointments don’t overlap or are too close together.

Jiyoon has become reliant on him, which is something Jungkook revels in. It’s like their marriage is finally back to the way it once was, full of nights cuddled in bed and romantic dinners—sans the wine. While you’ve been fiercely independent, yet charmingly sweet when it comes to Jungkook and Jiyoon and sharing the pregnancy experience with them.

There have been a few discussions about the fact that now there are going to be two babies instead of one. Jungkook has spent nearly all of his free time turning the guest bedroom into a nursery fit for two. His home gym has become a catch-all, most of the equipment being confined into a corner to make room for the furniture that came out of the guest room-now-nursery.

It’s been a lot, but it’s something Jungkook would never trade for anything in all the world. He’s positively jubilant over the prospect of being a father. It’s something he’s dreamed about for as long as he can remember. Now, it’s just a few months away, a permanent light in his life.

“J-jungkook?” your trembling voice sounds through his phone when he swipes to answer the call, tossing the paint roller into the bucket. Butter yellow coats the walls of the nursery and dots the hem of his old t-shirt.

“Hey, is everything okay?”

“I think so. I don’t know. I slipped on the stairs, I’m at the ER right now—”

“I’m on my way!”

“Jungkook, no. It’s okay. I know you have things going on today. I just thought I should tell you. Jiyoon was in a meeting, so Namjoon said he’d pass her a memo when she was done.”

He’s supposed to attend a First-Time Fathers class in an hour, and Jiyoon has her twenty-two-week anatomy scan this afternoon. The class can wait. If he’s lucky, he can go to the ER, check on you, and then make it to Jiyoon’s appointment.

“No, no, you’re not sitting in the ER by yourself. I’ll text Jiyoon and let her know that I’m leaving now to come check on you.”

“O-okay.”

The line disconnects, and Jungkook slaps the lid on the paint bucket and throws a plastic sheet over the paint tray. If it dries out, then it dries out. Paint can be replaced; your health is far more crucial right now.

Walking into the entryway, he thumbs open his messages and types out a quick text to Jiyoon before tossing his phone on the small bench by the door so he can pull on his shoes.

It’s a twenty-minute drive to the hospital, and it takes another ten minutes of searching to find you sitting in a waiting room with a large ice pack resting on your right foot.

“Hey, are you okay? Have you been seen yet? How long have you been here? What happened?”

You hold up a hand to ward off more of his word vomit, an embarrassed smile soft on your face. “Slow down, have a seat. I’m okay. They said I should be called back soon.”

Instead of sitting, Jungkook kneels on the floor in front of you. His fingers the ice pack, his face falling even further. “What happened?”

“I slipped in the stairwell at work, missed the last step and came down hard on the side of my foot.”

“Can I?” he asks, fingers moving to the corner of the ice pack.

You nod. “Yeah.”

Lifting it gently, Jungkook takes in the sight of your foot. The black ballet flats you’re wearing give him a clear view of the swelling that’s already beginning along the top and side of your foot.

“Do you want me to find a wheelchair?”

Before you can answer Jungkook a nurse comes through one of the doors, pushing a wheelchair. She wheels it over to you and says, “Ready?”

“Yeah.”

Jungkook slips his arm under yours as you stand before slowly helping you lower into the wheelchair. “Would you like to push her back?” the nurse asks Jungkook.

“I can come?” he wonders, hopeful.

“Of course. Unless you’d rather wait out here, and I can call for you when your wife is done.”

“Oh, she’s not—”

“I’d like for you to come if that’s okay? I don’t really want to be alone,” you interject before Jungkook can correct the nurse. She gives Jungkook a polite nod and gestures towards the door she came through.

“Please come right this way. We’ll need to get a quick weight and a urine sample before I can get you into your room, where the doctor will see you shortly.”

Jungkook aids you the best he can, helping you to and from the wheelchair as he can. He almost asks if you want him to come into the restroom with you, but you give him a quick shake of your head before closing the door on him.

What feels like an eternity later, you’re finally settled on a bed with Jungkook sitting in the chair beside it.

“Thank you for being here,” you say quietly, drawing Jungkook’s attention. “I know I said I wanted you to come back with me, and it’s not that I want you to leave, but please don’t feel obligated to stay. I know you have a lot of other things going on.”

Shifting his chair closer, Jungkook reaches for one of your hands. “Nonsense. I’m glad you called. I feel bad that I haven’t been to as many doctor’s appointments with you. I feel like it’s been a couple of weeks since I’ve even seen you. I wish our schedules worked out a little better. Perhaps, as my manager, there’s something you can do about that?” he asks, giving you a jesting wink.

“I was trying to give you more time to go to Jiyoon’s appointments!” you laugh, covering your mouth with your hand.

“I know, but in case you forgot, you’re also carrying my child. Don’t get me wrong, though, the texts are great, and I really appreciate the weekly baby bump pictures, but it’d be nice to actually see you. Though, maybe next time, let’s make it not where you’re laid up in a hospital bed, not yet, at least,” he adds on with a low laugh.

This is the first time Jungkook has seen your bump in person. The soft swell under your shirt calls to him, and he wonders if it would be okay to touch it. As if you’re reading his mind, you take the hand that’s wrapped around yours and press it gently over your stomach.

“Kinda weird, huh?”

“No. No, not weird at all,” Jungkook says, being completely raw and honest with you. Jiyoon is touchy about her belly, pun wholly not intended, seeing as she doesn’t let him touch her bump nearly as much as he’d like to. She’s only recently started to show, and it’s hitting her hard, with which Jungkook tries to empathize. He can’t imagine being pregnant and how much a body changes; he’d probably feel things like that, too.

He spends a moment absorbing the feel, trying to imagine the little life growing just a few inches below his hand. Life he helped create. He’s so in awe he could cry…if it wasn’t for the door opening and breaking the momentary spell over him.

“Hello, I’m Dr. Lee. I’ll be your attending today. I hear you slipped down the stairs today and are worried your foot might be broken?” The cheery, middle-aged woman chatters away, washing her hands and drying them off before offering one to you and then to Jungkook.

“Yeah. I missed the last step and landed on the side of my foot pretty hard.” You shake your head with a rueful smile. “I should have just waited for the elevator.”

“Oh, ouch. Let’s take a look,” Dr. Lee coos. “May I?” She gestures to the blanket covering your feet. Jungkook helped you remove your shoes once you were in bed and tossed the blanket over your feet so they wouldn’t get cold.

“Of course.”

Dr. Lee pulls back the blanket and gently probes at your foot, turning it slowly side to side to get a better look. “Does this hurt?” she asks as she rotates your ankle.

“A little, not as much as putting pressure on it, though.”

The doctor nods. “I think it might be best if we do an x-ray just to be sure it’s not broken.”

“Won’t that be harmful to the baby?” Jungkook asks.

“Don’t worry, we’ll make sure to protect your little one.” Jungkook nods his understanding. “Is it your first? You look a little green around the gills, first-time-father jitters.”

Jungkook isn��t entirely sure how to answer that. Because, technically…no? Considering Jiyoon is approximately two weeks further along than you are. Would that make her baby his first? A laugh, barely restrained, simmers deep in Jungkook’s chest.

“Something like that,” he finally says, earning another warm smile from the doctor.

“Alright, let’s get started so I can get you two out of here as soon as possible.”

The word ‘soon’ should be a relative term when it comes to hospitals—or a word that hospital staff is barred from using. Jungkook doesn’t mind spending the hours waiting with you. In fact, you’re pretty pleasant company. That’s not to say Jiyoon isn’t when Jungkook attends appointments with her; there’s just a different level of expectation, he thinks. He hopes this baby will have your patience and grace like that.

Jiyoon wants a quiet observer sitting in the corner, whereas you’re welcoming to his insights and curiosities. You haven’t hushed him a single time when he’s voiced a question of any of the medical staff. In fact, it almost seems like you welcome it, comfortable in letting him show his concern for you.

Thankfully, the x-ray showed no break or fracture. You’ve been given a temporary boot to wear for the next week and strict instructions not to overdo it. “Got it,” you say once the nurse has finished explaining everything to you.

“Now, before we discharge you, we would like to have a sonographer brought in to check on the baby. According to your charts and file, you’re at the twenty-week mark now.”

Jungkook stands up, panic worming its way in. “Should we be worried? Is everything okay?”

The nurse gives him a motherly smile. “That’s what we would like to check.” She turns her attention to you. “You didn’t fall on your belly, but with any trauma to the body, it never hurts just to be sure.”

Of course. That makes sense to Jungkook, but he looks to you for confirmation. “Yeah? You want to do that?”

“That would be great, thanks.”

Jungkook has only attended two live ultrasounds in all the doctor’s appointments he has been to. He has many printed ultrasound images that are now stuck to the refrigerator at home, one side for Jiyoon and the other for you. But he’s only managed to attend one for Jiyoon and one for you, so this will be a wonderful treat.

“Okay, they’ll be here in just a moment.”

A few moments pass after the nurse leaves the room, and Jungkook allows himself to truly assess his internal feelings. He’s thankful that you’re okay and will feel even more at ease once the ultrasound confirms the baby is alright, too. It’s wild for Jungkook to think that just a few months ago, his life felt like it was on the verge of falling apart. There was a steadily growing rift between him and Jiyoon, and you were just Jiyoon’s best friend.

Now, however, he feels closer than ever to his wife, and you’ve managed to carve out your own little pocket in his heart, too. It’s alarming, yet comforting, to realize that there is something more between you and him—a deepening connection that’s still delicate but growing more solid with each passing day.

“You feeling okay?” Your voice breaks through Jungkook’s reverie.

“Hm? Me? I’m great,” he assures, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand. You’ve barely let his hand go the entire time, to which Jungkook won’t complain. “Does it hurt much?” Jungkook nods toward the end of the bed, where your feet are back under the blanket.

You shrug. “It’s not so bad while laying here.”

“Hi!” a bubbly voice calls from the door a second before a young blond woman wheels an imaging cart into the room. “Are we ready to get a look at your little one before you guys go home?”

“Yep.” You give Jungkook’s hand a light squeeze. “Excited?” you ask in a soft voice meant only for him.

“Very,” he tells you, sitting up straighter in his chair.

“Now, this won’t be nearly as good as if we were in radiology in an exam room, but all we really want is to get a look to make sure everything is okay. Besides, who doesn’t want to take a peek when you get the chance, right?”

The tech, with Jungkook’s assistance, helps you adjust on the bed until you’re in a comfortable position for the ultrasound. Jungkook feels frozen as you tug your blouse up and over your belly, giving him his first real glimpse of the swell in all its glory. It’s one thing to see it through your shirt, another thing entirely to see it like this.

“Cold,” you chuckle as the tech squeezes a glob of contact gel onto your lower belly.

“Sorry about that, these carts unfortunately don’t have the warmers on them. Ah, here we are,” she sing-songs when she smoothes the wand over the gel. “Look at that.”

Jungkook tears his eyes from your face, focusing his gaze on the imaging machine's display screen. His breath stutters in his lungs, and a wave of pure, unrestrained joy washes over him.

“They’re perfect,” he says, voice thick with emotion. Jungkook watches as an arm moves across the screen, followed by a little kicking foot.

“Seeing them never ceases to take my breath away.” You take the words right out of Jungkook’s mouth.

The tech hums, giving you a soft smile as she moves the wand around to different angles. “No gender yet?” she asks. “I’ll try to be careful here, don’t want to have any spoilers…unless you would like to know?”

It’s hard not to be curious. “Is it not too early to tell?” Jungkook asks.

Turning the screen slightly away from you and Jungkook, the tech says, “Um, nope. Not too early. Everything looks good, though. So, if you’d rather wait, we can get cleaned up and be done here.”

“What do you say?” Jungkook looks at you with a raised brow.

Your teeth leave a dent in your bottom lip as you worry it for a moment. Another thing he thinks would be cute to see his mini-me do. “I kind of want to, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” he admits, loving the fact that you do.

“Okay, wonderful. In that case,” the tech says before moving the screen back and adjusting the wand on your belly. “Take a look here.”

When Jungkook arrives home, the sun has long since gone down, but he’s so high on cloud nine that he can’t bring himself to care. The large smile on his face hasn’t slipped in the slightest.

Jungkook is certain nothing can bring him down. At least, that is, until he walks through the front door of his condo and straight into hell. Jiyoon is sitting at their dining table, her expression completely devoid of emotion.

“Hey, babe. What’s going on?” Jungkook hesitantly asks, eyes sweeping the open layout and taking note that the only light on is the recessed one directly over Jiyoon. His smile slowly fades, replaced with a crease between his brows.

“What’s going on?” she asks in a cold voice.

“Is everything okay?”

Jiyoon sniffs, her eyes narrowing, the first sign of emotion he’s seen since he walked in. “No. Everything is not okay.”

“O…kay,” Jungkook draws the word out, letting his mind flip through its internal catalog, trying to find pieces of the puzzle to put together.

“Where have you been?”

“There was an accident. Did you get the note from—”

“You’ve not answered any of my calls or texts.”

“I sent you a text before I left. I think I misplaced my phone, I can’t seem to find—”

“You missed my appointment!” she sneers, cutting him off once more. “And you did not text me. I haven’t heard from you since this morning.”

Realization hits, and the warmth drains from Jungkook’s face. He was so focused on everything with you, the panic and then the joy, that he completely spaced on everything else he should have done today. But also…

“I swear I texted you to let you know I was going to the hospital. I was going to make sure everything was okay.” As soon as your name falls from his lips Jiyoon shoves back from the table and rounds it, getting in his face. “She slipped at work and thought she might have broken her foot. Namjoon was supposed to give you a note about it since you were in a meeting. She called me. I was worried. I didn’t mean to miss your appointment. Were they able to determine the gender?”

Jiyoon jabs a finger in the center of his chest. “Not. Good. Enough. I’m your wife, not her! You’re supposed to be with me! Instead, you spend all your fucking time with your nose up her ass when you barely even know her!” Jungkook staggers back as her poke turns into a fully-palmed shove. “You’re un-fucking-believable! What a goddamn joke.”

“Jiyoon, that’s not fair. Something could have been wrong with the baby. It was an emergency,” Jungkook says, trying to make Jiyoon see reason.

It doesn’t work.

“Fuck you! Why do you care so fucking much about that stupid baby?! All you do is fawn over the photos and re-read her text updates! This,” she gestures wildly at her stomach, “is the baby you should care about! Yet you can’t even show up when it counts.”

“You can’t be serious. This is ridiculous.” Jungkook keeps his tone level, refusing to be baited into a knock-down-drag-out with her.

“No!” Jiyoon screams, making Jungkook flinch. “You are ridiculous.” Suddenly a menacing smile cuts across her face. “I bet you slept with her. Didn’t you? That’s it, you’re feeling possessive because you fucked my best friend, and that’s how she got knocked up, isn’t it?”

Jiyoon’s words spark a ringing in Jungkook’s ears. “What?” he whispers, the word barely forming.

“Don’t play dumb with me, Jungkook. I know you too well for that. Let’s not forget your little slip-up—” she throws up air quotes as she says that “—the night you supposedly did ICI.”

“I told you it was an accident. I didn’t mean to do it!”

Sarcasm is a heavy, bitter layer in Jiyoon’s reply, “You just so happened to touch her clit? Just a little oopsie, so innocent. You’re too nice to outright lie to me, so, of course, you come up with some half-truth, expecting me to believe that you didn’t want it, that you weren’t secretly gnawing at the opportunity to try and seduce my best friend!”

“That is not what happened at all!”

“So I’m supposed to believe my pathetically inexperienced best friend is the one that seduced you, then?”

“What? That’s not what I said at all. No one seduced anyone. You’re being fucking crazy right now. You know I’d never do that to y—”

The crack of Jiyoon’s palm against his jaw stuns him into silence. “Don’t you dare call me crazy!” she screams. “You’d never do that to me? Yeah, right. You’re a man, and that’s what men do! Heaven forbid a woman works hard and spends time away from the home, trying to provide for her family. Is that it? I’m gone too much for your sad little dick, so you have to chase after the first desperate pussy that comes your way?”

Jungkook presses his fingers over the searing heat licking up his jaw where her hand struck him. “Jiyoon, no, it’s not like that at all,” he says, losing his momentum because he’s not sure what he can say at this point to make her see reason. “I wouldn’t cheat on you.”

“Fucking my best friend because she’s convenient and out of spite for me being gone so much? No, that sounds exactly like something you would do. Well, looks like it’s your lucky day because two can play that game, asshole. Enjoy your fucking prize!”

Jungkook jerks back, as if Jiyoon just slapped him again. “What does that mean?”

She laughs, the sound deep and throaty. “This baby—” she seethes, rubbing over the small swell of her belly, voice rising with every word “—it’s not yours, you pathetic bastard!”

Next Chapter⇾ ◅ Back to story masterlist  

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[avelera]

I'm wondering what you think about how much Viktor knew about his disease and his limited life expectancy before that scene in the hospital?

Because Viktor draws that conclusion before Jayce even says anything. Jayce is clearly very upset about whatever the doctor says, but he never spells out that it's terminal, and Viktor immediately concludes that, so that might make it seem like he already suspected beforehand.

On one hand, he is obviously hiding his symptoms from Jayce, and at this point he might either be in denial, or already suspecting it. I do get the sense his disease is common in the undercity and always fatal, the documents Caitlyn goes through about the grey show pictures of lungs which imply a lung disease the grey causes, which I think is the same disease Viktor has. It wouldn't be a leap for him to conclude that coughing up blood means he has this disease and will probably die.

On the other hand, he does get increasingly desperate to save his own life after he gets the diagnosis, and even has that talk with Heimerdinger about his legacy, which does kind of imply that the truth hadn't truly settled in before then or it was really the first time he found out. Though in regards to the hexcore, he really stumbled into its potential healing properties by accident and it makes sense he'd fall into that obsession when he first gets a sliver of hope

I do agree if Viktor suspected, he wouldn't tell Jayce. He's already quite ashamed of all his medical issues, and Jayce's comment about his disappearing is probably about that.

Anyway, curious what your thoughts are

Oh, I have a VERY specific headcanon that's going to make an appearance the Distinguished Innovators sequel that I'm actively working on but I'm happy to spell it out here too.

Ok, so, I don't think it's possible for Viktor to have fully hidden his degenerative illness from Jayce. Jayce is too loving and attentive and the illness progression over the course of the time skip between 1.03 and 1.04 is too dire for even the most oblivious person to miss.

And no, I don't buy the "cooking a frog" excuse that Jayce would miss it because the progression is gradual. It's not gradual. It's extreme. Viktor goes from a cane he can occasionally set aside to a crutch, leg brace, back brace, dark circles under his eyes, sunken skin, a hunched posture and regular coughing fits that sometimes spit up blood. I mean look at this:

You simply cannot tell me that Jayce hasn't been aware of this progression.

Not to mention, that when Viktor coughs up blood at the Hexgates, he does not hide the blood from Jayce and Jayce does not react to the blood! That means Jayce has known that Viktor's coughing fits regularly bring up blood at this point.

But what did Jayce believe up to this point? I want to explore that and offer my own rather exhaustive headcanon:

So, there is simply no way in my mind that Jayce could be kept in the dark about the fact that Viktor has his leg and another health issue bearing down on him and sapping his strength.

However, I do believe that Viktor knows that he has a degenerative illness that will likely end his life within the next few years and that he has lied to or obfuscated from Jayce just how dire his prognosis is.

I think Jayce expected Viktor to have decades left while Viktor hoped to have a few more good years left, and both were shocked and pained to learn it might be months. However, Jayce in particular seems completely blindsided, which is why I suspect Viktor allowed him to continue to believe he had decades to live when Viktor knew he did not.

I think Viktor would have rather died on that floor than let Jayce know he's dying.

I also think both Viktor and Jayce held out hope that Hextech would lead to a miracle cure for Viktor, but both knew it would take years to achieve. After all, most of their active innovations were around industry, transportation, mining, etc. It makes sense given the spell they had to work from was a weightlessness and teleportation spell Jayce saw the Mage do. Biology and healing was probably possible, and on their radar, Hextech is magic after all, but I truly believe they thought it was going to take years of innovation and a lot of leaps, not to mention luck, before they'd stumble upon runes that would let them pivot to healing. It's not a natural progression based on what they know of magic.

This is part of why I think Jayce believed Viktor still had decades left. Because I think, if Jayce knew it was only a few years, he would have tossed everything out to just work on healing Viktor with Hextech.

And this is where I'm going to make the full leap to headcanon territory. I don't think this is canonical to the text, it's just my interpretation of the text that I use for fic writing. H'ok, let's go:

I think Viktor knew specifically what fissure illness he had and he knew most people who have it do not live past 30. I think he's known most of his life. I think that's why he's so driven to achieve everything he can while young.

Hence Viktor's, "Don't ask permission," attitude. He's always known he's got about ~30 years to live and he's going to make the most of it, hence his meteoric rise, but also why he's willing to take a dramatic lateral leap to be Jayce's partner at the first sight of a potentially world-changing innovation to work on with his remaining years. He's less worried about losing what he's achieved than he is about missing out on the next great scientific leap, possibly because he knows he's only got a few years left anyway.

I think Viktor (and possibly his parents!) believed that if he moved to Piltover where the air was cleaner, he'd have longer to live. This adds to his parents' motivation to make the desperate, possibly criminal move to sneak Viktor into the Academy.

I think getting to Piltover made Viktor relatively optimistic about his prognosis. With better air, nutrition, and sunlight access, he might have a chance to beat the "Dead by 30" inevitability of his disease. And to some extent, he did! He's about 32 when he collapses in Arcane S1 but still, it's not as much time as he or anyone in his position might have hoped for. This explains his weary resignation to the fact he doesn't have much time left. He's known this is coming for a while.

I also think, and this is pure headcanon, that coughing blood signals the beginning of the end for this particular disease. That's why pre-time skip Viktor is motivated but not desperate yet. He's not coughing blood yet. He still has time. But once he starts coughing blood, post-time skip, he goes from motivated to desperate. I think coughing blood means you've only got a few months to maybe a few years left, and Viktor knows this.

I think Viktor knew his prognosis meant "Dead by 30" but he only told this vaguely to Jayce. Like "Yes, this cough is a symptom of a disease that will shorten my lifespan, but we still have time for a Hextech miracle if we work hard."

Jayce, coming from a background of relative privilege compared to the undercity, took "a shorter lifespan" to mean Viktor would live to like... 60 instead of 80. Plenty of time to find a way to pivot Hextech to healing if they crank it and push everything they have into accelerating the use, application, and innovation of Hextech as quickly as possible. The more resources they have, the more widely Hextech is adopted, the better the chance they'll have the time, assistance, resources, and frankly the power to stumble into something that will cure Viktor in the next few decades.

Viktor is more of a realistic about the progression of science. Note his, "It's a leap," about Jinx's potential to crack Hextech. Jayce believes in miracles because he was rescued by one. But I think Viktor knows intrinsically that it would take a very unlikely miracle to pivot from industry to healing uses of Hextech. He humors Jayce, and he's optimistic, but more than he wants to waste time looking for an impossible cure, he wants to leave a legacy and help others while he's alive, rather than chasing the rabbit of a healing application just for himself that they are realistically decades away from.

I think one reason Viktor didn't tell Jayce how short his prognosis ir OR how unrealistic it is for them to pivot Hextech to healing with what they have is that he didn't want Jayce to waste time on healing him with nothing to show for it when they inevitably failed. Even if they did nothing but try to apply Hextech to curing him, they probably wouldn't have time to beat his Dead by 30 prognosis (as of age ~26 when they partnered up) and Viktor wanted to contribute to problems they could actually solve in his lifetime instead of chasing a fairytale.

The Hexcore changes everything there, of course. It embodies the miraculous leap they'd need to skip over decades of incremental innovation in Hextech and it's what causes the pivot in Viktor's motivations from help the undercity to "help the undercity (but actually I just want to help myself and I'm actually such a good and selfless person I can't even admit this very human desire to live even to myself)"

Just to circle back briefly, I think learning Viktor's prognosis was a horrible shock for Jayce. Like I said, he really believed he had more time with Viktor. All his actions point to this. Yes he knew the Council was a bit of a distraction, but it was serving their overarching goal of pushing Hextech as quickly and as far as possible to cure Viktor in the next decade or so. He would never have stolen months away from working beside Viktor if he didn't think Viktor had many years more to live, even with his illness as it was.

Ok, I think that about covers it! If you do want to read the fic where I'm going to include all this, you should subscribe to this series.

[lostintransist]

Sacrifice Doesn’t Hurt Less if They Don’t Love You

I can't decide if I want to write a whole fic for this chapter that spawned fully formed in my head but a mutual told me I could post it here.

Context. Soap and Ghost are lovers. They are both wanting to work through some issues and ask reader (female pronouns) to become their third for a time. Reader was unsure about joining a thruple, so they offer to pay her. Reader is a soldier and works with the 141.

CW: Mentions of onpage violence, can be read as suicidal ideation, self sacrifice.

Watching Soap and Ghost share a look of goodbyes with only their eyes cements for you the knowing, deeper than your bones, that no one will ever love you like they love each other. No room exists for you to shelter inside of their love. The pain is freeing somehow. Like every message pounded into your head about being unlovable was true.

The call of the void had abated for a time, since they paid you for your body. The urge to jump without pulling your shoot, to kink the hose to your oxygen lessened. It returned now. It didn’t call though, it sang. Staring into the horizon where blue became intangible you know that even if you listened to the haunting call if you go home today an ‘accident’ would befall you soon enough.

A hand on your thigh pulls you back from the discordant notes. You look from the hand to the face and see Price looking at you, concern in the crinkles around his eyes.

“You with us Everest?”

“Sorry Cap. Just mentally gearing up.”

He nodded, accepting the strange behavior and the explanation. He had used the shared channel everyone could listen in on over the headphones. Helicopters were not the place for private conversations.

Feeling Ghost’s eyes you turn. Looking at one eye and then the other you find nothing but the mask inside and out. The horizon draws your attention again as you listen to the symphony from within the void.

Price had organized groups of three before everyone piled into the helicopter. You had been assigned to Soap and Ghost. As the ghost ship came into sight you slipped into your operator role. Rearguard would be you duty. They trusted you to step backwards over the dodgy doorways and ensure no one attacked them from behind. A place of trust.

Everyone knew the mission. Locate and terminate the computer that would signal a series of bombs dotting major cities. It would be highly guarded and most likely booby trapped. Six teams split as they enter the darkness of the ship. It creaks with each bob of the waves and every step as if she is moments from careening into the depths to become a home for the deep dwelling fish.

Soap takes the lead, heading aft. None of you encounter resistance until six levels down. Movement from barely beyond your vision as you step down another set of ladders. You fire off two shots, a body falling into the light. Not one of yours. A hand on you shoulder is the warning you get before Ghost and Soap step over the body, heading deeper into the darkness.

Smaller stature is not often an advantage in your line of work. But tiny halls become your safe haven because you are not an overly large man.

Moving before your mind can process you are grappling for a knife that connected with your vest. A man had stepped from the deepest shadows and swung at you after the guys had stepped through the next porthole. He pulled back and swung downwards, aiming for your neck. Leaning back you caught only a nick from the blade along the crease where jaw meets neck. Because all wide swings must be returned by an equally wide swing you step in and jam both hands into his forearm.

The enemy fights his arm up, your upper body strength no match for his. Instead of fighting him in a losing battle you place one boot on the wall behind you, leveraging your best asset in the fight.

It impressed the men on the 141 that you could match or often beat them in dead lift squats. They did make fun of you for how low your numbers were on upper body though so it all came out in the wash.

The man brought his second arm up to support his knife wielding hand, the tip of the blade inching closer to your face. Forcing your second boot up the wall you press with all the power your foremothers blessed you with. The light bouncing around from your rifle shines off whites of the mans eyes as you shove the blade into his windpipe. He slumps as his life flees.

Gravity takes hold of you now that friction has abated and you slam to the ground with a grunt. Your knee took the bulk of the blow. Up on your feet you limp after your lovers. They must have circled back to find you since you find them only three rooms away.

“What happened Everest?” Ghost barks at you.

“Your job is to protect each other, my job is to protect you. I did my job.” You snap at him. He would want to take it from your hide if there was a later. On jobs he was your superior and sass could not be accepted.

Soap reached around him and lifted blood from your collar.

“We are here to protect you too Ev.”

The sweetest blade to your heart came from Soap’s tongue. Lies, because if they were here to protect you they would have noticed sooner that you were gone.

His finger hovers as you turn your head slightly away from his touch.

“We’ve got more ground to cover. Let’s go.” Voice harsh, you focus on limping forward.

Several more engagements occur, but the guys don’t leave your sight once. After clearing a particularly well guarded tiny red room you find what you have been looking for. Soap drops to a knee at the computer, typing away.

You and Ghost take up opposite positions staring down the hallways watching the darkness.

“Why didn’t you call for help?”

Ghost’s even tone hits like a lash across your back.

“Didn’t really have time with a blade at my throat.”

“Why are you mad at us?”

Even now the distinction between your place and theirs is hammered home in the phrasing of the question. Us denotes a you, an outsider.

“Now is not the time to unpack our relationship problems, Simon.”

“I’m getting no response from the computer and I don’t dare move it. This group really loves their bombs to trigger when people touch things.”

A head poking around the walls you to fire off a few rounds.

“I’m jammed, Soap replace me. I can work on disabling the computer.” You step into the small, red, red box trading places with Soap who steps into the hall, gun drawn on the shadows.

The instant his heel passes beyond the door frame you swing the heavy metal door shut, slamming the bar into place. Faraday cages are interesting things. They can be made by accident, or opportunity.

You couldn’t disable the computer you had fought so hard to get to the bowels of the ship, but you could stop it from sending a signal. As the bar clanged down, the bell tolling of your death, two irate faces appeared in the small window. Two men you love more than any reasonable person could understand stare at you, yell at you, beat at the door demanding entrance.

A beep from the computer tells you there is four minutes left until the signal is sent. Your lip trembles. Mouthing the words so carefully they can understand even beyond the slightly distorted glass you give your final goodbyes.

‘Love you.’

Blowing a shaky kiss to their horrified faces you slide the cover in place, sealing your tomb.

The void’s lilting tune is sweet in your ears. The pounding on the door stops. No sounds squawk from the radio in your ear, your play worked. They would be safe. They didn’t need you anyways, a matched pair didn’t need a third.

With nothing left to do but breathe in the last of your oxygen you decided to strip down to your uniform. Emptying every weapon on you of its rounds you place them gently on the floor a fair distance from the door. No need for them to get stepped on when someone can finally reach your body. Next goes the holsters and the heavy tactical gear.

It’s getting harder to breath now, your lungs heaving for a breath more. You sound like a baby you once saw with RSV. You place a hand to your ribs, finding the flesh pulling between the bones with each breath. Laying down seems the best option now. Your mind feels pulled, stretched. Taffy for brains. Stretching out you get comfortable. With your eyes fluttering you can almost imagine yourself on a cot somewhere in the tropics.

Distantly a beeping starts, the thirty second countdown. One long beep reaches through the fog of oxygen deprivation, you strain your ears. Even in the bowels of the ocean you would have heard something, shouting, if you had failed. When none occur you sigh and surrender to the darkness.

You might not have been important to them. They might have never loved you. But god dammit you were going to be remembered.

I also write COD over on AO3, same handle.

Masterlist

[nahoney22]

Dirty Whispers***

All Bad Batch Boys X F!Reader

How the boys react to you talking dirty into their ears in a crowded room.

warnings: NSFW, 18+ only, implied sexual content, flirting, slightly cheesy, explicit language, dirty talk, female reader, with Hunters it’s insinuated that reader has tattoos, with Crosshairs he’s quite dom towards the end. established and non-established relationships. Brief mention of alcohol.

Authors notes: big thanks to @eyecandyeoz & @raevulsix who gave me inspiration for this work as I’ve been drawing blanks all week. 😵‍💫🩵

Echo

The mission unfolded smoothly, with everything going according to plan and the group right on schedule. However, a momentary standstill shifted the focus onto Echo. Amidst surveying the surroundings of the room you're trapped in, you, along with the rest of the team and the five rescued prisoners, identified an accessible circuit that could make or break the situation. Luckily, Echo just so happened to possess the exact tool required for the job.

He gets to work and after a few minutes you get bored of waiting around and found yourself feeling a little... naughty.

You had been flirting with Echo for a long while now and judging by how he acts around you, you're fairly certain he feels something for you aswell. Though his flirting is not particularly reciprocated back, his flushed expression, gentlemanly manners and shy stuttering was too cute to ignore.

You kneel down next to him, everyone else in their own conversations and smile softly at him. "Any luck?"

"This system is a bit intricate. Usually, plugging into terminals and computers isn't a challenge but this coding is new.," he responded with a sigh, his brows furrowing in deep concentration.

Humming softly, you took a daring step, leaning in until your lips brushed his ear, causing his scomp to momentarily pause. "I might have something simpler for you to plug into," you whispered, the hint of innuendo igniting a fire across his skin, his stomach fluttering and excitement stirring in his pants.

He pulled away, wide-eyed and taken aback by your flirtatious advance. Yet, as you tilted your head with a feigned innocence, his scomp spun to life again, generating sparks that held promise. The door hissed open successfully.

"I knew you could do it," you grinned, acting as though nothing provocative had been said, before joining the others in making your exit.

He stands back for a few moments, breathing heavily and wiping the sweat off his brow. "She's not wrong." He mutters to himself with a small smirk, knowing he had to get you alone tonight.

Hunter

When the time came to redecorate your armour, you were happy to design your gear anyway you wanted to. However one day, a certain design catches Hunters attention.

You’re all in the Marauder, going through gear inspections when Hunter came towards you and points to your chest plate. “Mind if I take a look?”

You nod simply, offering him a smile as you unclipped the armour from your body and passed it over. You grew curious however as he traced his finger over a particular drawing you implemented into the artwork. “See something you like?”

He chuckles but nods. “Didn’t take you for someone who likes to doodle.”

You shrug, “Only sometimes. All my armour pieces have different designs.”

“Oh yeah? Mind if you show me?” His eyes dance with mischief and your heart fluttered as you knew he was flirting with you which wasn’t uncommon recently.

Then, a lightbulb appears above your head. You take a step closer to him, glancing at the others who seems to be in their own mind before standing on the tips of your toes towards his ear, lips brushing against his lobe and breath fanning over his skin. “You know… all these customs aren’t just on my gear. I could show you more tonight?”

He inhales sharply and closes his eyes, easily imagining your nude skin etched in designs that you were clearly willing to show him. He looks to his brothers, none of them seeing the exchange between the two of you. “I really like that idea,” then, he leans down to you, his eyes dark with lust as he whispers, “perhaps I could show you some of mine as well, darling?”

Wrecker

Back on Coruscant, Wrecker's confidence was on full display in one of the training rooms, especially when around the Regs. His raw strength turned heads effortlessly. While his captivating personality was what made you fall for him, his powerful physique and his ability to lift ships as if they were mere trinkets only deepened your admiration.

After your own training session, you turned to find Wrecker in the midst of deadlifting an impressive 450kg, surrounded by a group of about 30 Clones. The way his muscles strained against his clothing ignited a sense of heat within you; you couldn't help but be captivated.

As he settled down, taking a swig from his canteen, you approached, your own workout completed, and boldly took a seat in his lap. The unexpected move caught him off guard, but a grin spread across his face as he recognized you. "Hey gorgeous girl, what ya up to?"

A mischievous smirk played on your lips. "Oh, I couldn't resist admiring your workout and felt the urge to come give you a kiss," you replied, leaning in to plant a lingering kiss on his lips. Your satisfaction grew as he emitted a soft moan.

"Babe, the regs are watching," he eventually pointed out, prompting you to open your eyes and glance toward the clones who were suddenly trying to appear nonchalant after having undoubtedly been ogling the scene of your public display of affection.

You shrugged, a devil-may-care attitude in your demeanor, your smirk growing wider. Leaning closer to him, you brushed your fingers along his cheek, your lips tantalisingly close to his ear as you whispered, “I dare you to carry me to the storage unit and fuck me. Hard.”

He laughs but as he sees the lust in your eyes, he knew that you were not just teasing him. “Really?”

“Really.”

Let’s just say the regs were swift to file out the gym when things got a little heated.

Tech

Sitting across the bar from Tech in the, surprisingly, lively atmosphere of Cid's parlour, you couldn't help stealing glances in his direction. His head was buried in his datapad, a not so unusual sight. Amusement welled up within you as you observed his growing agitation, patrons brushing against him, drinks spilling over the bartop and likely onto his clothes and boots. Feeling a desire to relieve his discomfort, you decided to take action.

With a subtle smirk, you retrieved your own datapad and sent him a message that read, 'why don't you come over here?' Watching closely, you noticed him squint as he read the message before his gaze scanned the room until it landed on you. A smile emits immediately on his lips, and without delay, he abandoned his stool and made his way toward you.

"Your message came just in time. I was starting to fear that another drink might find its way onto me and I may not have the patience to hold back," he admitted with a sigh, a quick glance revealing various splatters and stains on his clothes.

Raising your drink to your lips, a surge of boldness surged through you. "How about I help you get out of those clothes?" you proposed, your voice carrying a hint of suggestion.

He briefly shifted his gaze to his device, processing your words before his attention returned to you, focusing on your eyes that shined over the brim of your cup. He seemed to think before speaking, "I must admit, I'm not entirely sure if I'm interpreting this situation correctly. Are you genuinely offering help, or..." His words trailed off as a small group of people moved behind you both, resuming once they had passed. "Or are you implying something else?"

His innocence was endearing and as you take a swig of your drink, eliciting more liquid courage, you turn to him fully and lean forward until your lips brushed against his ear. You feel him shudder under your gentle touch. “I help you out of your clothes, you help me out of mine. And then you can do whatever you want to me.”

He inhaled a sharp breath. “Anything meaning…?”

You giggle, not being able to help yourself as you gently nibble on his earlobe, eliciting a gasp from him and his hand to instantly land on your thigh. “Yes. Anything.”

In a split second, Tech stands and you feared you may have took things too far but then he takes a hold of your hand before leading you out of the parlour and straight to the Marauder…

Crosshair

As you feel an object hitting the back of your head, you pivot to find a toothpick landing at your feet. Your expression tightens into a frown as you scan the surroundings, only to spot Crosshair lounging against the doorway, smoothly placing another toothpick between his teeth. Cockily.

"Real comedian," you quip with a sarcastic tone. However, as you begin to turn away, another toothpick whizzes towards you. A sigh escapes your lips as a small skirmish unfolds, involving toothpick projectiles flying between you and Crosshair.

The confines of the Marauder had kept all of you cooped up for too long, and the signs of boredom were evident. Little did you anticipate that it would be Crosshair who initiated a kind of entertainment, seemingly innocent yet playful, involving the tossing of items back and forth—much to Echo's apparent dismay who told you both to clean up after yourselves.

Later, as you find yourself in the cockpit, steering through hyperspace towards your next destination, Crosshair's foot brushes against yours from the chair opposite you. An involuntary response makes you kick back, and a realisation washes over you: this isn't just playful banter anymore, but a glimmer of flirtation. With a hint of a smile, you and Crosshair have unknowingly transitioned into a game of footsie. But boredom takes over again.

Sitting next to him, the two of you listening in on the bickering between Hunter, Wrecker, Echo, and Tech, you lightly tap your head against the wall repeatedly. His attention eventually turns to you, a hint of a smile gracing his lips. "Bored, pretty girl?" he remarks, causing a delightful flutter in your chest, even though you try to downplay it.

"Yeah, I'm bored," you reply with a sigh, your fingers idly strumming against your thighs.

He starts a sentence but then pauses, seemingly reconsidering his words. You give his shoulder a gentle nudge, encouraging him to continue after a brief silence. He inhales, then turns to face you, his closeness apparent, seemingly unbothered by his brothers' presence who don’t seem to notice you both. "So, how do you think we could change that?" he inquires, his tone laced with flirtation and desire.

Exhaling deeply, feeling your cheeks warm up, you decide to meet his tone. Leaning in toward his ear, your warm breath caresses his skin as you reply, “How about we go to the refresher and you fuck my ‘pretty’ face?”

Your bold and straight to the point answer makes his eyes briefly widen and his fists clench. You watched your eyes intensely, seeing if there was any sign of reluctance but there wasn’t.

He keeps his closeness and speaks, voice raspy and filthy. “Meet me in there in two minutes. You may as well speak to the others before you come in because you won’t be able to move your jaw after I’m done with you.”

Masterlist

If you feel like buying me a coffee 🤗

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[kitkatscabinet]

Lay all your love on me

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick x f! Reader

Summary: You've been best friends with Kyle for years, but will a night of drinking and introducing you to his teammates change that?

word count: 1.2k

A/N: unedited, I kind of hate it but wanted to get it out before I start working on all the angst.

He’s holding a beer in one hand, eyes darting between where his phone lay on the table and the door of the pub. His left leg was bouncing in anticipation, drawing an odd glance from Price. 

“Y’alright mate? Barely touched your beer.” Gaz almost didn’t hear him over the ambient background music.

“Hmm?” it took a few seconds for the words to register but when they did he finally tore his eyes from the door towards the table occupied with his teammates, only to find them all staring at him. It’s Soap that answers for him with a wicked smirk, 

“He’s fine, just waiting for his lass to arrive.”

“She’s not my lass. She’s my best friend and she’s a little anxious to meet you all so you better behave“ he sent a stern glare their way, focusing especially on the grinning Scotsman who had his hands raised in surrender. Any wisecrack is cut short by an excited yell of his name. 

He barely manages to turn and stand before he’s got an armful of you, infectious laughter already curbing his annoyance at Soap. It’s only when he realises that perhaps he’s been clutching you just a bit too long to classify as friendly does he pull away, eyes flickering over your face as if trying to memorise every minute detail after months of not seeing you in person.

You’re already blazing ahead however, eager to meet his teammates as you offer them that stunning smile of yours whilst making short work of introductions. By the time he’s returned from the bar with your favourite drink you’ve already slid into the booth next to Ghost, engaged in a passionate debate with Soap. You barely even throw Kyle a second glance apart from thanking him for your drink, before you’re sliding it across to Soap with a dead pan. 

“Drink this. I guarantee that my cocktail is ten times tastier than your shitty tap beer.” Never one to back down from a challenge, Soap makes a show of taking a sip from the straw whilst dramatically rolling his eyes. Though the second the drink hits his tongue it becomes apparent that Soap’s enjoyed the taste, something you pick up on right away with a victorious laugh. 

“You liiiiike it!” you tease, playfully smacking him on the arm before taking back your drink, “have fun drinking your shitty beer.” Kyle could do nothing but watch the interaction sourly, a light frown decorating his face. Were you flirting with Soap? 

“You know, Kyle had me convinced you guys were scary, I had to have a few drinks before I got here to calm my nerves.” You smiled sheepishly as the boys laughed, “What! You made Simon sound like the fucking terminator or something!”

He should be relieved, but for some reason Kyle can only feel irritation at how well you were getting on with the boys, especially Soap. You’re supposed to be his best friend, so why had you sidled up next to his lieutenant, why were you laughing so much at Soap’s jokes? Did you think Soap was funnier than him? 

A voice is suddenly projected through the space, stopping you mid-sentence and Gaz watches as delight fills your face. 

“Karaoke! Oh my god Kyle you have to sing with me!” You’re already on your feet, tugging on his arm impatiently, apparently, you want to be the first performer of the night. A disappointed pout rests on your face as another girl beats you to the punch. He doesn’t want to upset you but Kyle knows he has not had anywhere near enough to drink to get up on a stage and sing for an entire pub, especially not his jeering teammates. 

Watching as your face falls even further into devastation at his refusal he tries not to wince, promising to take you to a karaoke place next time the two of you go out. 

“Awww, but I wanted to sing tonight. It’ll be fun!” As if sensing you were getting nowhere with him you suddenly turned to Soap, eyes bright once more and a question on your lips. You barely get the words out before Gaz is suddenly standing, taking your hand in his and leading you towards the stage. It isn’t until the previous ‘performer’ nears the end of her song that it truly sinks in what he’s done, but you had let out a delighted shriek at his acquiescence and he hadn’t liked the look on Soap’s face when you’d almost asked the Scotsman. 

You’re an excited whirlwind of movement when it’s finally your turn, pulling him on stage by hand and shoving a mic in his face. He’s given no consideration over song choice and it’s clear to everyone watching that you are in charge. The music picks up and Kyle feels something akin to dread as he recognises the introduction of your favourite song. You’d made him sit through Mamma Mia enough times that he could sing the soundtrack in his sleep. 

“I wasn’t jealous before we met, now every woman I see is a potential threat” You're smiling at him, moving close enough that he can smell your perfume as you grab his hand to twirl him. As the first verse nears its end Kyle struggles to pull his eyes from you, a lump building in his throat as his turn to sing draws nearer. 

“It was like shooting a sitting duck, a little small talk a smile and baby I was stuck.” Somehow he managed to get through his verse without stuttering, shoulders loosening as he saw how much fun you were having. His eyes never once leave your face, the words falling from his mouth without the need for subtitles. 

“Don’t go sharing your devotion, lay all your love on me.” As you continued to sing Kyle could almost allow himself to believe that you truly were singing to him. Everything that wasn’t you faded into obscurity, the crowd didn’t exist, nothing did outside of you. Blinding smile that’s focused entirely on him. 

By the time the song ends Kyle is running on adrenaline and what could only be described as delusion filled confidence. As the last words fall from your lips and the crowd cheers, a particular Scottish voice ringing out above the others, Kyle finally lets himself move. Dropping the microphone he reaches out with both hands, one gently clutching your cheek and the other clasping the back of your neck as he closed the distance. You let out an adorably surprised squeak before your eyes fluttered close, lips curving into a giddy smile as you kissed him back. 

The audience cheers grow even louder but neither of you care, even as you pull away. Resting his forehead against yours Kyle is at a loss for words, but you seemingly aren’t. “Is that why you’ve been glaring at Soap like he killed your puppy all night?” It takes a few seconds for your words to process but once they do Gaz lets out an incredulous squawk, only to be silenced by you leaning in to press your lips against his once more. His right hand briefly leaving the warmth of your cheek in order to flip off the jeers coming from the corner he knew his teammates to be located.

[liesmyth]

favourite parts of GtN act 3 I had forgotten about

Cytherea giving Dulcie a health crisis the moment Silas might get in contact with Abigail's ghost

There was something pale blue sparking within the corpse of Abigail Pent, and suddenly and horribly the body shuddered [...] Someone screamed, and she recognised the voice as Dulcinea’s. Gideon moved thickly through the grey-lipped crowd, watching Dulcinea collapse in what felt like slow motion, reaching out to the rumpled figure in the big dressing gown. [...] Protesilaus stalked forward, and he did not even bother to draw his sword: he simply punched Silas in the face.

The fainting spell so that she'd have an excuse to make "Pro" punch Silas... I love her. She really committed to everything <3

Wild speculation time: as a Lyctor, Cytherea has an unprecedented level of control over every cell of her body, including the cancer cells. Her body's "default state" is the terminal cancer she died with, but she's clearly able to tune it up and down. My pet theory is that the Eight House cancer is inherently necromantic in nature, so it becomes more costly to her to fine-tune it when she's actively doing necromancy, such as puppeteering Pro <- she's not faking the bout of pain, she is in pain, and still going for an Oscar. Who else is doing it like her

Magical restorative herbs Teacher had lying around

When Colum gets syphoned too hard, Teacher makes him sniff something. WHAT IS IT I desperately need to know what Teacher's herb garden looks like.

Have they been eating the Canaan House fish?

Speaking of Teacher's herb garden, the cold storage room at Canaan House includes meat and fish as well as vegetables.

Strings of startle-eyed, frozen fish with their scales and tails intact hung like laundry on lines above steel countertops, bewildering Gideon with the reality of what she had been eating.

This is interesting to me because it could say something about the status of the ocean near Canaan House regarding pollution / the state of Earth's fauna in general. I tend to take Taz literally when she said Nona took place over "a hundred thousand years and five days" and believe tens of thousands of years passed between the flashbacks and the Resurrection. The fauna being healthy enough to be eaten would match with that — not that the half life of nuclear waste means anything when you're God, but a hundred thousand years is definitely "safer" than ten thousand.

Babsʼs boyfriend

“I should’ve stayed home and gotten married,” he said resentfully. “As though anyone was even offering,” snapped Ianthe.

He had a lover boy back on Ida... I know this to be true

Third House power struggle

“How many people had these hatch keys other than the Ninth?” said Corona. “We had no idea the basement was even there.” (ten minutes later) “I am also in possession of one,” Ianthe said, unruffled. “What?”

I would read the whole book from Babs' POV. I think whatever was going on between the Tridentarii must have been incredibly fraught. Away from Ida, Corona's lie must be weighing on them like never before. Away from their court and family, I think Ianthe is going on the biggest power trip of their life. And Babs is there also.

Then later this happens

“At arms, Babs.” Her twin sister’s voice was thin and soft as silk: “Don’t unsheathe that sword, Naberius.” “Ianthe, what—are—you—doing.” “Well, Babs, thank God, has much better sense than to listen to you—Babs?”

The moment when Babs officially won't do what Corona says if Ianthe disagrees... Corona's shocked and saddened reaction... this is new for them. to me. and she doesn't like it. Ianthe meanwhile is letting out twenty-one years of quiet resentment

****

Anyway. TLDR! I'm enjoying this reread very much :3

[midnigtartist]

Writing scenes I’m to lazy to draw. Enjoy

“And what is kith'rak?”

Dotty bounds along at Lae’zel heel not unlike a pup chasing an offered treat, clinging to their githyanki friends every word as shes barraged with questions. Quite honestly her pursuit of knowledge is not only commendable but shared. A rare opportunity, to interview a denizen of the Astral Sea, Gale is itching to ask her a thousand questions of his own.

For her, decidedly, prickly nature Lae’zel seems to take the teifings hounding in stride. “Dragons knights in service of our Queen. You saw them as my kin pursed the ghaik ship. To wield a kith'rak’s silver sword is my life’s purpose.”

Dotty nods along eagerly with her explanation, swaying up into Lae’zel space to slip her arm around the other’s. Its hardly been a few hours in each other’s company and both Shadowheartand himself have already been on the receiving end of that particular motion. With Gale’s arm lock firmly in her grasp, deceptively firm grip. He’s not yet sure if she’s just the tactile type or merely unsteady on her feet, though he’d wager its the former. Regardless, the hand on her bicep causes Lae’zel to jerk swiftly away.

Her head cocks sharply to one side. “Do you intend to grapple me, istik?” She snaps.

Dotty cocks her head back in confusion. “Have you never walked arm in arm with someone before?”

“Why would you wish impede your target in such an inefficient way? Twisting the arm behind the back would be a much sounder tactic”

“Oh no its not fighting thing.” Dotty explains. “Its a polite thing. For when you’re walking with a lady. You link arms so you can walk and chat. You know like, with friends. Or a sweetheart.”

Lae’zel fixes her with a look as steely as the blade at her back. Dotty sighs.

“I think I might be explaining this poorly,, maybe it would just be easier to show you” she casts her gaze around for a moment before it settles on him at the rear. “Gale dear, you’re gentlemanly enough. Come help me show Lae’zel what I mean”

Her smile drips with a laugh the seems constantly at risk of spilling over, despite their bleak circumstances. His own lips quirk up at the absurdity of the, well, demand more then request.

“Had you told me, as I was plummeting from a mind flayers ship at terminal velocity, almost certain to face me premature doom dashed across a cliffside, that I would later be giving etiquette lessons to a githyanki, I cannot fathom my response.” But strange needs in strange times. He takes a step forward, inclining his head slightly as he does. “Consider me at your disposal.”

“Really?” Shadowheart cuts in, tone both bewildered and annoyed. “We’re going to waste precious time on this?”

Dotty dismisses the question with a sharp flick of the wrist. “Hush. It’s important for Lae’zel to learn this um, “custom”. That was the word, yes? Custom?”

She talks with her hands, he’s noticed All graceful rolling of her wrists and delicately poised fingers. Gale wonders if she’s undertaken any arcane training. Certainly her sharp and guilefully motions would lend themselves to weave manipulation.

“Now Lae’zel-“ Dotty turns her attention back to the stone faced warrior. “When you’re walking with a lady, it’s expected that the gentleman offer his arm like so-“

His cue. Gale straightens his back and offers the crook of his elbow with, perhaps a bit more flourish then conceivably needed, but then, what’s a demonstration with out a bit of flare? Its seems to delight Dotty, if nothing else, for him to play the part so readily.

She clasps her hands over her chest. “Perfect! Yes exactly like that. And then the lady would position herself like this-“

She steps lightly up to his side, resting well manicured talons in the crook of his elbow. “And then you walk like this.”

He follows her lead as she guilds them a handful steps towards Lae’zel, her other hand coming to rest on his bicep as the walk in measured, almost swaying steps.

“You see? It’s easy. In this case you would be the gentleman and I would be the lady but we can switch if you want. I don’t mind.” She adds.

“Enough.” Lae’zel rolls her eyes “If I allow you to cling to me will you cease with this with pointless explanation?”

“Yes.”

“Very well then.” Despite her sharp tone, she looks a tad embarrassed as she offers up a limp elbow.

Dotty bounces on the balls of her feet, giving Gale’s arm one quick squeeze before skipping over and linking her arm with Lae’zel instead, hand curling up to hold her at the shoulder.

“Thank you.”

[liddolwitch]

Sharing my personal opinions, I am not every person lmfao

ARCANE S2 SPOILERS (ep 1-3)

tw/cw: Viktor, disability, body dysmorphia, weight changes, suicide, I think that's all?

Okay! I cannot stop thinking about how it would feel to be in Viktor's position right now. There's a lot going on, but I want to start with the fact that this is someone who contemplated suicide not too long ago. Everything we knew up to the attack indicates he wanted to live at that point, but the suicidal ideation must be kept in mind. That being said, it's a clear parallel to Jinx being saved by Singed. Side note, I think Jinx's reflexes might not let her die anymore.

Anyway! He did not want to be saved. He had made Jayce promise to destroy it previously, and this is the ultimate betrayal; regardless of Jayce's intent. At best, he trusted his own judgement over Viktor's after promising otherwise. That kind of integration was against everything Viktor wanted and believed. So there's a huge loss of autonomy, which is traumatic. It's also a theme very familiar to people with disabilities, especially ones that affect mobility and/or are degenerative. I cannot imagine that kind of situation would not be a trigger.

In regards to body stuff, he's completely different now. Any change in your physical body that you're not in control of can be absolutely terrifying. Weight fluctuation and minor scarring can have huge effects on a person's sense of self and self-esteem. Those are only the two I'm currently dealing with. These are changes visible to everyone in a way Viktor's clearly not comfortable with. There's often a feeling of moral impurity that unfortunately is part of the grief caused by disability. It's also a common effect of long-standing trauma in general (especially C-PTSD). Viktor is now only alive because of a weapon he felt needed to be destroyed at the cost of his life's work.

Jayce justifies himself by saying, "I never asked for this!" As if that hasn't been a constant thread in Viktor's life. I'm certain the line was meant to draw attention to that, but to me it indicates just how little Jayce recognized the loss of autonomy for Viktor.

For days? weeks? months? the people around Viktor have been telling him that they're sorry, but it's his lot in life to die young. That it's unfortunate his life's work can't be completed, but that's just how it is. Then, the closest person in the world to him completely disregards that sentiment, when it was clearly a line no one was willing to cross prior. Viktor himself had made the choice not to proceed.

I'm just thinking about a lot. People with terminal illnesses often aren't allowed to die with dignity and by their own volition in a comfortable way. Othertimes, people who are ill cannot receive the treatment they choose because other people determine the risk to be too great. Occasionally, people will be pushed to go through with treatments they'd rather not have, just for the chance to live a bit longer with low quality of life. Regardless of the situation, Viktor has never been allowed to call the shots.

I was really worried about how they would choose to force Viktor down this path. I thought maybe he would simply choose the risk of the hexcore over the pain or fear of death/dying. I was scared other people wouldn't understand that and there would be little sympathy from people who have never had to make choices like that (quality of life vs time, but also work vs rest when working harms you). I think it offers so much more room for exploration of Viktor's feelings and perspectives now that he didn't get that choice. I really hope they choose to dive into that.

[ddagent]

I'm curious about your Sergei, Margo and Alexandra universe.

Sergei thinks he is safe at the '92 IAC. That they've stopped pressuring him for the designs. He and Margo have dinner, drinks, and spend the night together. Only for them to wake up to find men in her hotel suite; only for them to strangle him in front of her.

When Margo finds out she's pregnant, she strongly considers termination. She never thought herself equipped to be a mother. But the child is half him, and she just can't do it. Emma is the only one who knows everything. Margo, in tears, explains it all after nine consecutive positive tests. Emma comes in the next day with an elaborate backstory about the father, backdated entries in Margo's diaries, and a red babygrow.

Margo has to buy a house. Gives up her bedroom next to her office for in-built childcare (which Aleida is also immediately grateful for). Ellen Wilson buys her a crib. Karen Baldwin gives unsolicitied, but ultimately useful advice (which Margo repays during Kelly's pregnancy, talking to her every day). Molly sends Wayne to help paint a mural in the nursery of the solar system.

After the bombing, Margo is insanely busy getting NASA back on its feet. Sergei, newly appointed and defected, looks after their daughter. Aleida draws umbrage at this - but especially when she overhears Alexandra call Sergei 'Daddy' and he doesn't challenge her. Aleida goes to Margo - who finally explains that Sergei actually is her father.

The Nikulovs are so excited to meet Margo and Alexandra but Margo keeps them at a distance, initially, unsure how she feels about Sergei and him being a part of their lives. But he does not push. The Nikulovs meet Alexandra in little moments: first her cousins, who are so excited and they play for hours with Alexandra and Javi. Then her aunts, one at a time, who offer Margo pictures of Sergei that age. Finally, Alexandra meets her first ever grandparents. She is spoiled, as expected. But Margo does not expect to be referred to as a daughter-in-law. This, she challenges. But Sergei explains that there will be no one else. No one but her.

So, send me a Margo/Sergei AU (either one I’ve mentioned before, created a gifset of, or one of your own devising) and I’ll give you 5 headcanons!

[actual-changeling]

i am drowning in a sea of wips, so have a small excerpt from one of them! the temporary title is 'empty streetlights'. all the traveling we did not get to see is brewing in the back of my mind 24/7.

mostly it's just the two of them being disgustingly in love and making it everyone's problem.

————

Mulder lets her hurry him along without complaint, it's her way of letting off steam and regaining a smidge of control over their rudely disrupted plans. He watches her pace up and down beside the conveyor belt while finishing a bag of sunflower seeds, and he offers to carry both suitcases before she can grab her own. Not that she needs him to, but it will make him feel useful and hopefully relieve her of yet another thing to keep an eye on.

"Let me," he says in a low voice, their bodies so close they're almost pressed together chest to chest—as always for the sake of contact rather than audibility—and their hands brush when Scully pulls back with the slightest hint of a smile. A fraction of the stress keeping her high-strung seems to melt away, and he sticks to her side as they weave through the crowds towards the rental agency.

Nothing shows people's complete unawareness of themselves in relation to others more than packed corridors, queues, and full parking lots. Airports combine all three and wrap them up in a fog of irritation and sweat. Sometimes, Mulder's height is the only reason they're able to push through it and make it to the doors; other times, Scully's mere aura and heel staccato part the masses around her like the red sea.

Most times, they will reach for each other in unspoken agreement and thread their fingers together, holding on even when they traverse the terminals in the early morning hours, surrounded by empty space and silence. Then again, in the grey twilight, reality shifts and warps, hiding them in a safe pocket where no one is watching and their usual rules don't apply.

With both his hands occupied, he briefly mourns the missed chance—only to be surprised when a warm weight loosely wraps around his left arm. Scully is staring straight ahead, avoiding his gaze, but he catches her hiding a smile out of the corner of his eye. It's incredibly impractical, and the suitcases keep hitting his ankles, creating stinging bruises that will plague him for days, yet he cannot bring himself to push her away.

Instead, Mulder draws her in as far as she can physically go, deciding that this more than makes up for the pain. While travelling together, it is all too simple to pretend they're just another couple in a sea of strangers, and he loses himself in memories of zombies and countdowns.

The world didn't end. 

He would have kissed her either way. He would have kissed her until they were nothing but stardust and smoke. He wants to kiss her again and never stop.

[hugmekenobi]

S2: The Bad Batch (16)

Chapter Sixteen: Plan 99

Gif by @dreamswithghosts

Hunter x femaleJedi!reader

Series Summary: Some time has passed since everything that happened at Kamino and you and the Batch are trying to figure out your place in the rapidly changing Imperial galaxy. And you're having to do all this whilst figuring out where your relationship with Hunter fits into it.

Chapter Summary: There was a mission gone wrong and then there's what happened during and after Eriadu.

Masterlist for S1

<Previous Chapter

Genre: Friends (idiots) to Lovers (we're in the lovers stage now)

Chapter Warnings: Canon-typical violence, swearing, MAJOR CHARACTER 'DEATH', HEAVY ANGST, my interpretation of thought processes, relatively detailed injury and torture descriptions, vomiting, slight hurt/comfort, brief kissing, Hemlock being a creep and just generally himself, I project my feelings again and reader makes a questionable choice but it needed to happen, no happy endings here

Word Count: 8.8K

Author's notes: If I have done my job right in any capacity, this'll be a rough one to get through. However, I promise I have a oneshot planned that'll fix some of what just happened and if S3 doesn't fix the rest, I will do it then!

You helped Hunter with opening the car doors and as you all saw the awful freefall that lay below you, you knew it was going to take a lot to get out of this situation in one piece.

“This… is not ideal.” Tech commented.

“At least we’re not hanging under the car.” Wrecker offered.

“This isn’t much better.” You said before you ducked as a round of blaster fire headed in your direction.

“Echo, get this car moving.” Hunter instructed as the rest of you fired back.

“The explosions must’ve knocked out the power to the rail line.” Echo theorised irritably.

You moved away from the edge of the doors back to the middle of the car. “What if I just take down their railcar? It wouldn’t take long.” You suggested.

Tech shook his head. “I do not think that would be wise. There would be no guarantee that the resulting impact of you destroying that line would not affect the terminal that we need to get moving. And we’d still be stuck here whilst the Empire can easily send more reinforcements and-”

“Okay, fine do it your way.” You interrupted as you went back to focusing your fire on the Imperials.

“I can try to reboot the system, but I will need to plug directly into one of the terminals on the track.” Tech said.

Hunter addressed the rest of you, “You four, give us cover, Tech up top with me.”

--

Tech and Hunter moved to the next level of the railcar and Hunter gave his brother a boost up to the roof so he could climb onto the track.

As Tech got underway, Hunter opened the other set of doors and opened fire, particularly on any soldiers that were aiming for Tech.

--

“I am plugged in. Stand by.” Tech said into his comm as he got to work.

--

You all were doing a decent enough job at holding them back. They had more numbers, but your squad was more skilled, so you were managing okay.

That feeling of things being under control did not last long as Hunter heard the familiar sounds of ships coming your way. “We’ve got three ships inbound.”

You muttered a series of expletives as you scanned the sky around you for them.

“Where? I can’t see them.” Omega asked fearfully.

“Tech, we need power!” You urged into you comm as you could hear them drawing closer with each passing second.

You all took up positions to open fire on them, but it did very little. The ships got a round of shots away and you had to fight to stay balanced as the car shook with the impact.

Tech stared at his datapad and finally the screen turned green. He tapped his comm, “Echo, now!”

Upon Tech’s word, Echo plugged back in, and the railcar finally came back online.

“Tech, get your ass back here.” You hurried as you saw the ships getting ready to make another pass.

Tech unplugged and got himself across to the main track and started running but he could hear the ships getting nearer.  

Hunter concentrated his fire on the oncoming ships. He was able to clip one in the wing and it collided into another which he thought would be enough.

It wasn’t.

The third ship came speeding through and fired a series off shots that found their mark. You all stumbled inside the car as it violently shook and struggled against the onslaught of blaster fire.

The explosion flung Tech backwards, and he fell from the track onto the roof of the bottom half of the car. He tried to stand but the resulting shot had seen to it that the back of the railcar was tearing itself away from the track and as it titled backwards, he went with it. He managed to hook his grappling cable onto one of the grates, but he was stuck hanging over the abyss.

--

“Come on, Tech! Hurry!” Wrecker implored as he peered down the broken end of the railcar.

“I am climbing as fast as I can.” Tech replied with a grunt as he started to make his way up the cable, but the additional weight and well-placed rogue enemy blaster fire exacerbated the fragile state of the car and it lurched backwards, sending him further down the cable once more.

“Tech!” Omega cried as she saw him fall whilst Wrecker debated the best way to get down the sloped hallway.

“Why aren’t we moving?” Hunter asked Echo as he took refuge from the blaster fire.

“The car’s being ripped from the track.” Another harsh vibration sounded shook through it as he tried to get it moving.

“Wrecker, get him on board.” Hunter pressed, desperation seeping into his voice, before he opened fire on the soldiers again.

Wrecker made to step down, but the car dipped significantly.

“Don’t!” Tech yelled as he fell down even further. “Any shift in weight could send both of these cars over.”

You glanced behind you at Wrecker and Omega and made the call that the others could hold the troopers off. You needed to help Tech now. Channelling the Force, you focused on the point where the two hinges met but it was already fragile, and it would take a lot of energy and focus to keep them together since they were wanting to do anything but and the circumstances were hardly ideal to have that focus but you had to make it work. You could hear more ships coming but you ignored them, you didn’t care.

“You must sever the connection hinge. Now!” Tech instructed.

“Not until you’re up here.” Wrecker argued.

“Tech, I can hold them, just climb or let Wrecker-”

“You can’t keep them steady and wait for me to get up there with the time we have left.” Tech interrupted you as he saw the ships in the distance closing in again.

“She’s got it, Tech.” Wrecker said, doing his best to keep the distress out of his voice as he edged his way forward. As he did so, the cart swayed forward, and he glanced back at you.

“Go.” You said through gritted teeth as you focused on keeping both carts level, but each moment of blaster fire and Wrecker’s added weight were making it harder.

Tech fell a few more metres as the cart continued to pull itself away from the track. He looked around and he knew what he had to do. He needed you all to get away. He wasn’t wrong about this. You all would make it out. He just needed to take himself out of the equation. “There is no time.” He pulled out his blaster. “Plan 99.”

Your heart plummeted. Not that plan, any plan but that one.

Wrecker’s heart filled with dread.

Omega felt nothing but panic.

“Tech, please-” You broke off as you channelled more of your energy into keeping both carts stable, but another round of shots meant the car swung again. Your knees buckled and your hold faltered slightly.

“Don’t you do it, Tech.” Wrecker ordered as he tried to creep forward once more but the cart continued to protest against the strain.

Tech sighed before he accepted his next course of action. It was, in a way, a rather easy decision. Omega had once asked him if they were a family. His answer had been yes, and it was true. He just didn’t think he’d really said it enough, but he loved his family. And what do families do? They protect each other… and that’s exactly what he was going to do. “When have we ever followed orders?” With that, he fired a shot through the glass of the railcar that met its mark, and the connection hinge was severed.

Even if you could hold it, you were out of time. The ships would make their pass at any second and you couldn’t prevent your section of the railcar reconnecting or else none of you would make it out of this.

And you hated it. You fucking hated it, but you were left with no choice; you dropped your hands, released your hold and watched in agony as Tech fell.

“No!” Wrecker cried out as he helplessly watched his brother fade from view and there was nothing he could do nothing to stop it.

“Tech!” Omega yelled.

The railcar reconnected to the track and sped away from the troopers on the opposite side.

Hunter grabbed Omega’s wrist as she moved closer to the open end of the car. “Omega-”

“Go back! Go back!” She said desperately, reaching out as if she could still grab him.

You felt numb. You couldn’t move. Every other noise around you sounded fuzzy. The skulking darkness that had been circling you since Saw Gerrera showed up was asking for a way in. It took every fibre of control to not let it. Hunter’s voice dragged you back to the current moment.

“The car’s going too fast.” Hunter said urgently.

“The system’s fried. I can’t stop it.” Echo replied, desperately trying to plug back in to do something to stop the rapid descent as the back wall of the station grew dangerously close.

You knew your help wouldn’t be fast enough either, and you felt Hunter’s internal conflict as his helmeted gaze darted between you and Omega. It’s Omega first, every time.

Hunter lunged for her just as the cart collided and smashed through the wall of the terminal.

--

Everything was grey, and dull and bleak.

If it wasn’t for the bitter scent of smoke in the air, she wouldn’t have been sure that she’d even opened her eyes at first.

Debris from the wreckage surrounded her.

And she ached. Her entire body burned with the pain it took to stand.

Tech. She needed to find Tech. He couldn’t be far. She called his name but only managed a few paces before she collapsed once more.

She tried to fight it, but it hurt too much, and the encroaching darkness was too tempting.

As the pain overwhelmed her, she didn’t have the strength to turn it away.

--

You groaned as you came to and immediately felt woozy as you attempted to sit up. Your hood had already come loose from the collision, but you pushed your mask down to catch your breath and breathe through the soreness radiating through your body.

You brushed the dirt off your face but felt something wet leaving a trail down your cheek. You took off your glove and touched it to find your fingertips covered in blood. You carefully followed the path of blood to the source and winced as you touched the oozing deep cut by your temple. Fighting the dizziness, you looked around to see the others pushing themselves up but then your eyes caught sight of an unmoving figure and your blood ran cold.

You forced yourself to stand, ignoring the shooting pain that coursed through your ankle, and staggered over to Omega. You dropped to your knees next to her and felt for a pulse, which thankfully you found but it was weak. “Omega, come on honey, open your eyes for me.” You begged her as her body shivered beneath your touch. You felt the others come by your side. You hung your head in relief when you saw her eyes flicker open, but she couldn’t stay awake, and you knew she was in bad shape.

“We have to get her out of here.” Hunter said, doing his best to not let the panic he felt upon seeing her like this come through.

Wrecker picked her up. “I got you, kid.”

“Incoming! Get to the Marauder!” Echo shouted as Imperial reinforcements arrived.

You picked up Omega’s bow and provided Wrecker and Omega cover fire as you all retreated back to your ship.

--

“Head to Ord Mantell. AZ can help her. Hurry!” Hunter instructed Echo as he made his way to the cockpit.

You watched Wrecker gently place her down on your bunk whilst Echo got the ship in the air and into hyperspace.

“You’re bleeding.” Hunter stated, worry etched in his voice as he brushed some of your hair back and caught sight of the mix of fresh and dried blood on your skin.

“I’m fine.” You said groggily as the fading adrenaline meant you had to work harder to fight against the light-headedness you were experiencing. You then noticed the awkward way he clutched his forearm and at the fact standing up straight appeared to cause him some issues. “Are you okay?”

Hunter didn’t answer directly. “Are any of us?”

You glanced around you and felt the anguish in everybody that you knew also resided in your own heart. “No, no we’re not.”

You focused on watching Omega’s chest rise and fall as a way to keep you grounded and willed the journey to go quickly.

--

“Cid, AZ, we need your help!” You shouted as you limped into the parlour.

Cid took in all of your various injured states and nodded, too taken aback to offer anything else.

AZ dropped the cleaning supplies he was using and flew over to Wrecker. “Follow me.” He led the way to Cid’s room.

“It is best if you leave, and I can work on her without distraction.” AZ instructed.

Neither of them really wanted to, but they didn’t want their presence to be a problem, so they did as he said.

“Where’s Goggles?” Cid asked as Hunter and Wrecker came back into the main parlour.

And it was that question that snapped you all out of what ever fatigued state of denial you were in.

You half collapsed into one of the booths and blinked back the angry, grief-stricken tears that threatened to escape.

Wrecker released a shaky breath and just shook his head as he sat down on one of the bar stools.

And Echo- now that he knew Omega was getting the medical attention she needed- just left the room. For the first time in his life, he needed the solitude.

“We- we lost him.” Hunter just about managed to say as the loss overwhelmed him and he sat down next to you. He welcomed the loving hold you took of his hand as you rested it in your lap and rubbed circles on the back of it and was grateful for tender way you pulled his head to rest on your shoulder. He ignored the slight discomfort the position caused him.

“I’ll give you guys some time alone.” Cid said quietly as she made her way towards the exit.

You all were in too much pain and too emotionally exhausted to notice the comm she took with her.

--

You’d lost track of how long you’d all spent waiting for AZ to come back with news so when he finally entered the room, the room was ripe with nervous tension. She had to be okay. She just had to be.

“AZ?” You said uneasily.

“Omega’s injuries were severe, but I have stabilised her and she should recover. It is just a matter of time of waiting for her to wake up.”

You all let out a collective breath of relief.

“Thank you.” Hunter said gratefully.

AZ nodded. “Now, what injuries of yours can I assist with?”

“(Y/N) has an actively bleeding head injury and a wounded ankle and Wrecker’s neck is causing him problems. Leave me for last.” Hunter said.

You knew disputing the order wouldn’t be helpful to anyone right now, so you let AZ come over to you first.

--

After you all were taken care of, AZ went back to monitor Omega and give you guys some space.

“What are we going to do now?” Wrecker asked as AZ left.

Hunter sighed deeply. “We have nothing to go on. No location, no leads. Nothing. And with Tech-” He broke off with a cough before continuing, “With Tech gone and Omega being hurt like that…” He paused for a moment as he considered his next words, “I can’t put her through something like this again. I can’t put any of you through it again. We’re done. We’ll find somewhere to settle.”

“What about Pabu?” Wrecker offered quietly. “She likes it, and we were going to settle there anyway… right?”

Hunter looked to you and you nodded. “He gave us another chance. We should take it any way we can.” You said, clearing your throat as the pain of the loss threatened to overcome you.

“Alright.” Hunter said before he got to his feet. “I’m going to go wait until Omega wakes up.” He left the room.

“Wrecker, will you be okay for a moment?” You asked as you also stood.

Wrecker understood. “Go.”

You bowed your head in thanks and followed Hunter.

--

You paused by the doorway and studied the way he sat in the chair as he watched over Omega. His posture was tense, and his leg bounced anxiously. You knew he was barely keeping it together, but he was making himself because he was still the leader and had to be. But you wanted to give him a chance to let himself drop the appearance, if only for a moment.

“You don’t have to be strong right now. Not in front of me.” You walked around to the front of the seat and kneeled in front of him. You placed your hand on his cheek to turn his face towards you as he was keeping his eyes firmly on Omega. At your words, it looked like a weight just left his body and he let his head and shoulders hang lowly.

“That plan was never supposed to be used.” He uttered, his throat bobbing as the mask of composure started to drop.

Your heart ached as you felt the guilt and sorrow within him. You reached up and placed your arms around his neck and just held him close to you. I’m so sorry.

“I only got two of them.” Hunter mumbled into the crook of your neck as he met your embrace.

“Hmm?”

“The ships. There were three and I only got two of them. If I had just made sure, he wouldn’t have fallen from the track. The third got the shot away that killed him.”

You pulled away as you picked up on the way the typical rasp in his voice got lower and more uneven. You cupped his face in your hands and rubbed away the stray tears. “Hunter, you can’t do that to yourself.”

“I was supposed to look after us. By taking that mission, I put everyone in danger and look what happened.”

“You went because you knew it was the right thing to do. It gave us a last chance to get Crosshair back. What happened-” You took a second to draw a calming breath of your own. “What happened was cruel and unfair, but it wasn’t your fault. I know that guilt may never truly fade, I’ve been there, but you still have the rest of us. You still have me. Whenever you need a reminder that this was not your doing, I will be there, I promise.”

Hunter couldn’t help but search for any doubt or lies in your eyes and voice but found none. He pressed his lips into your palm and the sincerity and love in your tone served to remind him that he could do this. “We’ve lost two brothers.”

You brought your forehead to press against his and whispered understandingly, “I know.”

“I can’t lose anyone else.” He breathed against your lips, but he could feel himself starting to regain the composure he knew he was going to need for what was to come.  

You placed a delicate kiss to his mouth. “You won’t.” You caressed your thumb along his cheek before you stood behind him with your hands on his shoulders as you both waited for Omega to come back around.

--

“Hunter? (Y/N)?” Omega winced with a groan as her eyes opened once more and saw you both standing by her bedside, the worry on your faces now becoming relief.

“Hiya, kid.” Hunter said warmly as he brushed some of her hair back and reached for her hand.

She let Hunter support her back as she tried to sit up and took in the various bandages that graced both of you and her own fading pain prompted the reminder that the mission had gone very wrong. “What happened?”

Before either of you could reply, AZ whirred into the room and Hunter delicately laid her back down.

“Hello, Omega. I am relieved you are awake.” He scanned her. “You each sustained multiple injuries. However, you all will make a full recovery with proper treatment and rest.”

His reassurance helped calm the anxiety you were feeling over her injuries. You tenderly hugged her as Hunter assisted in getting her upright.

“You’re- You’re okay.” Wrecker said with relief as he came into the room. He crouched in front of her. “Don’t scare us like that again.” He put an arm around her in a fond embrace.

You passed her some water. “How do you feel?”

Omega took it from you but didn’t drink it. “I don’t know. The last thing I remember, we were in the railcar when…” She released a horrified gasp as the images came flooding back. “Where’s Tech?”

“Omega, Tech didn’t make it.” Hunter said, his voiced laced with sadness at having to tell her this again. Part of him had hoped she’d remember so she wouldn’t have to go re-experience the hurt of the loss.

“We have to go back! What if he’s hurt? He- He need us. Tell him, Wrecker. We can’t just leave him!” But Wrecker only looked back at her with nothing but sorrow on his face.

“Omega…” Your voice cracked slightly as you attempted to rest a comforting hand on her shoulder.

Omega hit your hand away. “No! Tech’s not gone! He- He can’t be!” Tears fell down her face.

Her reaction nearly broke you all over again.

“I- I know, kid.” Hunter said quietly as he moved to sit beside her and wrapped an arm around her shoulder.

Reliving it all got too much for Wrecker. He wiped his eyes and backed out of the room.

You glanced over your shoulder as Wrecker left and you knew Hunter needed to talk to Omega about what the rest of you had discussed. “I’ll give you two a minute.” You said, your voice still thick with emotion.

--

“Why did Tech do that?” Omega said tearfully after you and Wrecker had left. She wiped her eyes. “He didn’t let us save him.”

“He knew we were out of time.” Hunter explained as simply as he could. “Tech put the squad ahead of himself. He made a sacrifice, Omega, and we’re not gonna waste it.”

“What does that mean?”

“The galaxy has changed, and so have we. It’s time to put being soldiers behind us for good. The three of us think Pabu could be a good place to make a new life for ourselves. And the rest of it, well, we can figure out along the way. Omega, is that something you want?”

She thought it through for a moment before she nodded.

“Then that’s what we’ll do.” Hunter said. This would work. You all could heal together and make it out okay. It would get better.

--

You pulled yourself onto the bar stool next to the one Wrecker was sitting on. “What can I do?” You asked caringly. You knew there was nothing you could say that would immediately ease the pain of grief, but if there was anything you could do to help, you would.

“Just being here is fine.” Wrecker mumbled roughly as he kept his emotions at bay.

You rested your hand on top of his- an act he gently mirrored with his own before he removed his hand. You know I love you, right? It was a sentiment you realised you had not shared enough with the others and you didn’t want that to continue anymore.

Wrecker breathed deeply. “I love you too… and it’s not just because you’re with Hunter. You became a part of this family long before that.”

The genuine and heartfelt way he said that touched you deeply. You swallowed the lump that formed in your throat. “It’s a pretty good family to have.”

“Tech would’ve been able to tell you the exact date, I’m sure he kept a record of it.” Wrecker said with a sad chuckle.

You managed a half smile at his words. “That would be in character for him.”

A natural quiet descended on the two of you.

“Did we miss something? Did we miss a way to save him?” Wrecker asked into the silence.

The question was one you had been torturing yourself with ever since the ship had left Eriadu. “What we needed was time, and- and Tech knew we were out of it by that point.”

“Yeah.” Wrecker released a dejected sigh. “He always was the smart one.”

--

“Here. These are on the house.” Cid gifted you both a drink.

“It won’t help.” Wrecker said as he nudged it out the way.

You did the same.

“I’m sorry about Goggles. I always liked him.” Cid said sympathetically.

“Yeah. Us too.” Wrecker said with a crestfallen sigh.

Despite her words, you, and Wrecker both noticed the way she kept avoiding eye contact with both of you.

“What’s with you?” Wrecker asked.

Cid gulped, “You know, I tried to look out for you guys. But you got too much heat on you. And you brought it here to my place of business. I had to make the best of a bad situation.”

You picked up on her awkwardness and agitation. “Cid, what did you do?” You asked as a hollow pit of dread sat heavy in your stomach.

“I’m sorry.” That was all she said before she looked to the door.

You and Wrecker followed her stare, and a squadron of Imperial troopers came marching through the door with their blasters drawn.

You both instinctively reached for your blasters, but both of yours had been lost in the crash.

Wrecker was unaffected by the first stun blast that contacted him, and he charged at the group, but his neck brace severely limited his mobility.

You dodged the stun shot that was sent your way and realised keeping up a pretence would be pointless now. You threw your vibroblade into the shoulder of the closest threat to you before you Force-pushed multiple troopers against the back wall and used your ally to snap the wrists of others that aimed for you.

“Stop!”

You turned in the direction of the voice to see Wrecker half-conscious, kneeling on the floor with his wrists bound and a trooper holding a blaster to his head whilst the squad regrouped and pointed their weapons at you.

Your jaw tightened but you did as he ordered and let them take you. A kick to the backs of your knees brought you down. They took your comm off you and, judging by the way the cuffs he put on you were slightly different to Wrecker’s, they’d come prepared. You weren’t going to have an easy way out.

“She was right, Sir. This is the Jedi.” One of the troopers that was holding you down by the top of your shoulder said to Doctor Hemlock as he came through the crowd to stand at the front.

You glanced up at the man you now recognised as Doctor Hemlock who was staring down at you.

“Wonderful.”

--

He’d acted quickly when he knew the Empire was here and he’d kept Omega safe. That’s what mattered first. She was in the mining tunnels and on her way to Echo. The Empire wouldn’t find her. He could now focus on getting you and Wrecker back.

Hunter rounded the corner to the main parlour with his blaster drawn but his heart stopped at the sight. Both you and Wrecker were cuffed and being held at gunpoint by Imperials and Hemlock was right in the middle. He advanced forward a few paces, but the troopers focused their blasters on him.

“That’s not very strategic, Hunter.” Hemlock cautioned. “You don’t need to use your enhanced senses to know you’re outnumbered.” He turned his attention to the owner of the parlour. “The Empire thanks you for your assistance. Our business is done. Leave.”

“You piece of shit.” You hissed as you fought against the grip the troopers had on you as you watched her take the case of credits and walk out the door.

“Please consider your next move very carefully. I would hate for this to end poorly for all of you.” Hemlock advised. He paused and studied your handiwork on the wounded that were now being evacuated from the building. “Such an exquisite creature.” He brushed the fingers of his ungloved hand across your cheek. “You chose well.” He complimented the Sergeant.

You recoiled from his touch.

“Don’t fucking touch her.” Hunter snarled.

Hemlock ignored the clone for now and kept his attention on you. He lifted your cuffs by the middle. “How can someone so powerful be limited so easily?” He dropped your wrists. “Please. Do me the honour of just trying to use it.”

You stared him down in refusal.

“Or both of them will be killed.” Hemlock said simply.

You gritted your teeth and hoped the message behind your eyes as you looked to Hunter was clear- he had to keep it together.

Hunter didn’t understand what was about to happen. You were telling him to stay calm and remain where he was, but he didn’t fully know why. What was Hemlock talking about?

You braced yourself as you did as Hemlock said. You were met with the expected electric current that shot through your system. You didn’t cry out despite the pain; you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction, but you couldn’t help but fall forward on all fours. You had to take a few deep breaths before kneeling upright once more. The binds themselves had also grown tighter.

“Incredible.” Hemlock mused. “Years spent studying your people and the Force and we have barely scratched the surface of understanding you, yet science still finds ways to prove itself. Go again.”

“No!” Hunter protested. Watching you do that once was bad enough and you were hiding it well, but he knew you were in pain, and he couldn’t let it continue. Instinct took over and he moved a half step closer to you, but the line of blasters stopped him from advancing.

“How touching.” Hemlock mocked, internally thrilled that the reaction from both of you had been as he predicted. It made the process far more enjoyable. “But if you value your fellow clone’s life, you will not stop this.”

“I can- I can handle it.” You said breathlessly as a way reassure Hunter and stop him from doing anything reckless- you knew this torture was as much for him as it was for you, and you needed him alive. But you couldn’t prevent the pained grunt that left your mouth this time and you fell forward once more, and the cuffs pinched the skin of your wrists.

“Again.” Hemlock ordered you.

“Don’t.” Hunter pleaded, but he wasn’t talking to Hemlock, he was looking at you. This wasn’t something you should have to handle. There had to be another way. He should be the one to take that pain.

Whatever it required to keep them both alive. “It’s okay.” You said, your voice hoarse. You did it again and an audible cry fell from your lips.

Hemlock waited until you sat up. “Again.” He demanded.

You inhaled with a wince and did as he said.

The cycle continued until Hemlock said otherwise.

--

Hunter wanted to stop it. Despite your words, his resolve was weakening by the second. The only thing stopping him from doing something was that Wrecker’s life was also involved here but he couldn’t stand that all he could do was watch you go through this torment over and over again.

Wrecker struggled against his captors as he watched, but they were too many securing him.

“Stop.” Hunter finally growled at Hemlock after this last round saw to it that you were barely able to right yourself. He saw your arms give out from beneath you with the effort it took to remove yourself from the ground. And from the way you were trying to flex them, he guessed you were losing feeling in your fingers.

Hemlock smirked, “I am merely giving her a preview of what’s to come. I need to know what it’ll take to crush someone like her.”

He kneeled beside your crumpled body and spoke into your ear. “I will look forward to breaking you.” He kept eye-contact Hunter.

Hunter was clenching his jaw so hard that his teeth hurt. The thought sickened him.

You believed him. That quiet, menacing tone in his voice told you he truly meant what he was saying and… and that brought out a level of fear you’d never felt before. But you wouldn’t let that happen yet. Your arms trembled as you braced your palms against the floor and you panted through the throbbing discomfort in your body, but you managed to get back to a kneeling position. In a way, you were also grateful for the harsh but secure hold the troopers resumed since it meant you weren’t required to keep yourself stable.

“Such resolve.” Hemlock whispered to you. “And now onto the other matter at hand.” He said breezily as he stood upright once more and addressed Hunter. “Here’s how this is going to go. You will lower your blaster and hand over Omega. And I will allow you to keep breathing.”

“Omega’s not going anywhere with you.”

The fierce protectiveness of the clone brought out a soft snicker from Hemlock. “Oh. Well, who knew clones are so paternal? Fascinating.”

To hear that observation come from that man had bile rising in your throat.

“I was saddened to learn of your friend’s demise. What was his name? Oh, yes. Tech.” Hemlock taunted cruelly.

“Don’t fucking say his name.” You spat as you strained against your captors. An act Wrecker joined you on.

Hemlock merely reached his hand out to one of the soldiers and took the object. “I’m afraid this was all I could salvage. Consider it a gift.” He tossed the broken goggles across the room to Hunter’s feet.

Your strength was returning and at Hemlock’s actions, you attempted to lunge for him, but the troopers acted quickly and, with a strong grip on your shoulders, they forced you back to your knees.

Hemlock was unphased and stepped forward a few paces. “To lose one of your own, it must weigh heavily on you as their leader.” He signalled back to his men who pressed their blasters against the back of yours and Wreckers heads. “And if you don’t lower the blaster now, you will lose more.”

Hunter looked past Hemlock and you and Wrecker.

Wrecker did the best he could do to shake his head.

“Hunter, n-” The sharp tap of a blaster interrupted you.

He wasn’t losing any anyone else. And with Omega gone, the rest of you could find a way out.

You helplessly watched as Hunter put the blaster down and delicately picked up and studied Tech’s goggles.

“Wise decision.” Hemlock praised before he waved his men forward.

Hunter let them pass and allowed himself to be cuffed and brought over to join the two of you.

You and Wrecker were pulled to your feet, and you attempted to wriggle out of their grip, but they wouldn’t give.

“Sir, the girl’s not in the office.” The troopers informed Hemlock as they came back out.

You and Wrecker glanced at Hunter who subtly nodded at the two of you.

You and Wrecker shared a small breath of relief. As long as she was safe, you could manage whatever came next.

“She’s long gone. Like I said, Omega’s not going anywhere with you.” Hunter said to Hemlock.

Hemlock merely hummed. “We’ll see.”

The three of you were escorted out but what you couldn’t work out was why you were still being physically restrained whilst the other two got to walk normally.

--

Ord Mantell was in chaos.

People were screaming and clamouring to get out of the way of the Imperial soldiers and AT-AT walkers that were making their presence known.

 A series of warning blaster fire halted you all from continuing. You turned in the direction of the fire and your stomach dropped as you saw who was on an upper platform staring down at the rest of you. No, she wasn’t supposed to be here.

“Lower your weapons.” Hemlock instructed his soldiers before he called over to the young girl, “Hello, Omega. We were just talking about you.”

Omega kept her bow activated. “Let them go!”

“Omega, run!” Hunter shouted before he got held back by one of the troopers.

“I won’t let them take you.”

“How about an exchange? If you come with me, your friends will live.” Hemlock negotiated.

“You fucking bastard.” You seethed as you pulled against the hands that were holding the upper part of your arms.

“I don’t believe you.” Omega replied suspiciously.

“I did not come here for them, Omega. I came to return you to Nala Se. She needs your help.”

“He’s lying. They killed the Kaminoans.” Hunter countered.

“Incorrect. Nala Se is alive and well care for.” Hemlock retorted before he returned his attention to the girl. “As you will be.”

“I’m not going with you.” Omega affirmed but she didn’t sense the clone trooper behind her.

“Omega, look out!” You shouted but it was too late.

All of you watched with devastation as Omega met the receiving end of a stun shot and her limp body got picked up by the trooper.

“Scour the city. When you find the third clone, send them back to Eriadu. Governor Tarkin wishes to question you personally.” Hemlock walked over to you. “But you…” He smiled coldly at you. “Your use lies elsewhere.”

Your heart shattered as you realised what that meant.

Hunter’s head turned sharply to look from Hemlock to you and the pained panic on your face mirrored his own. He reacted instantly and ran for you, but he didn’t make it far before the troopers separating the two of you got in the way and shoved him back. He continued to try and fight his way through, but the cuffs limited his effectiveness and a strong punch to his stomach winded him and he hunched over in discomfort. He took a few deep breaths and wriggled free of the two soldiers that had come to bring him back in and tried again but this time he was met with a kick to his already wounded torso.

You were shouting unintelligible sounds of protest as you writhed and struggled against the strong hands holding you back and attempting to drag you away. You managed to stamp on the foot on one of your captors and elbow one of the others in the stomach and their grip faltered.

But they regrouped quickly.

A swift hit of a blaster on your still wounded head had you blinking away black dots. You could do nothing to stop the severe grip one trooper took on the back of your neck, forcing you to hunch over whilst the others grabbed your arms and got ready to take you away.

“Let them.” Hemlock held a hand up to stop the actions of his soldiers. It would only help with his process. Let the two of you have the chance at a last moment together dictated by him and stopped by him. The emotional turmoil it would create would play beautifully.

Still half-dazed, when the troopers let you go, you were left with no choice but to fall to the ground.

Hunter shoved past the line of soldiers and knelt before you. As gently as he could manage, he placed his hands under your chin to push your head up. “I love you.” Hunter choked out.

Hemlock signalled his men.

You wanted to say so much more but you didn’t have the time. “I love you too.” You replied, your voice cracking. Your lips met for the briefest of moments but that was all you managed before you got hauled to your feet and they yanked you away from him.

As he watched your fading figure, Hunter didn’t have the strength to fight the troopers that lifted him to his feet and led him and Wrecker in the opposite direction.

--

The only thing that was keeping you from giving into the pounding agony that was bouncing around your skull was that Omega was now being carried alongside you. You would hang on for her.

“What are we doing?” One of the remaining troopers asked as he saw the group split off.

“Doctor Hemlock wants her getting a separate shuttle in case the others get away and come looking for them.” The clone in charge of the group answered.

“Please.” You begged with a broken breath as you saw the group separate and Hemlock disappeared down the street with Omega. “Just let me go with her. I won’t-” The butt of a blaster meeting your cheekbone shut you up and you groaned with the stinging pain it left you. Your vision kept blurring in and out of focus.

“Quiet! Keep walking!” The trooper ordered you.

You had so little resolve left. Hopelessness had overwhelmed you, so you followed their orders, your feet dragging as they led you in the direction of wherever the other shuttle was.  

--

Hunter could feel the fight leaving him as he and Wrecker were escorted to the shuttle that would take them to Eriadu. So much of what he cared about had been ripped from him and now the remaining people in his life that he loved would pay the price for his failure. The echoes of explosions and blaster fire grabbed his attention, and he looked up to see a walker come stomping round the corner but it’s aim was directed towards the Imperials.

“Echo?” Wrecker asked.

“Gotta be Echo.” Hunter agreed as he dug deep for the energy to fight back.

Wrecker broke his cuffs open on the top of his knee and Hunter landed a kick to the trooper behind him to give Wrecker time to undo his cuffs.

The two of them worked on taking care of the remaining troopers and stole their blasters and fired on the clones that were aiming for Echo’s walker. What they couldn’t stop however, was the next walker that rounded the corner that fired on Echo’s.

Echo went to the hatch and jumped out of the walker just as it collapsed to the ground.

“Where are the other two?” Echo asked as he emerged from the downed walker with AZ and took cover with his brothers.

“That Imperial took them.” Wrecker answered.

“It was Hemlock. We’ve got to stop his ship from leaving.” Hunter said.

The three of them scanned for ways out but reinforcements were arriving from both sides. It was then though that Hunter noticed a platform that ran above the landing pad where Hemlock’s shuttle must be and the group of them made their way up to it, avoiding enemy fire as they did so.

--

Hunter ran ahead to the edge of the platform and could only watch with despair and agony as Hemlock’s shuttle took off. He paid no attention to the surrounding sounds of blaster fire; he couldn’t turn his gaze away from the departing ship.

Half his life was on that ship.

Hell, his heart was on that ship.

And he couldn’t stop it.

He couldn’t stop any of it.

And it broke something in him.

It killed him.

Echo’s voice dragged him back.

“Hunter, we have to go!”

Hunter managed to find his voice. “Get to the Marauder!” He ordered and the three of them started to run once more.

--

They made it to their ship and managed to take off but there was no relief in the feeling. The air was thick with grief and loss.

“There was no way to track Hemlock’s ship. He could’ve taken them anywhere.” Echo said forlornly from the cockpit.

Hunter glanced back to where Omega’s room was, then he saw Wrecker cradling Tech’s goggles. Then he found himself fiddling with the cord around his neck and his fingertips grazed the small symbol attached to it. He’d failed so many people. Everything he’d promised both to himself and to his squad had fallen apart so quickly before his eyes and he couldn’t do anything to stop it. Well, no more. He refused to let this be how things ended. “We are going to get them back.” He said darkly. “And we don’t stop searching until we do.”

--

The shuttle you were being taken to was on the other side of the city, but you had finally arrived.

The ramp lowered and you didn’t resist them as they nudged you towards it.

You walked a couple paces but then you spotted the smoke bomb thrown at your feet.

Fog engulfed you.

You were set free but all you registered were the panicked shouts and shots from blasters around you.

The Imperials didn’t last long, in rapid succession you heard the thud of each body that had brought you here.

Then everything went quiet.

A hand from behind grabbed your shoulder.

You reacted quickly and swerved out of the grip and whipped around to land a punch wherever you could reach. You heard the satisfying thump of your fists meeting bone and the figure backed away a few paces.

You readied yourself for the next attack, but it didn’t come.

“That’s a hell of a punch you’ve got. Would hate to see what you’re like when you don’t have cuffs on you.”

You recognised that voice and you pushed the faintness away and peered through the smoke at the figure approaching you, sniper rifle on her shoulder as she massaged her jaw. You relaxed your stance. “Lyra?”

“Hey, stranger.” She greeted you as she began picking the locks of your cuffs.

“What are you doing here?” You massaged your wrists as your binds came loose and you felt the Force start to flow through you again, but it felt… tainted. You searched in the Force around you for any sign of them, but there was nothing there. You really wished that meant they’d found a way out and escaped safely but everything felt disconnected. You weren’t yourself; something had shifted, and you weren’t sure if you would be able to right yourself anymore.

“Rescuing you, kinda thought that much was obvious. Where are the others?”

You felt your throat tighten as you searched for the words, but you couldn’t find them, and your stomach turned with both the aching in your head and your heart. You braced your hands on your knees and threw up.

The smoke had cleared, and Lyra was able to take you in properly. Your ankle was strapped, the skin on your cheek had broken and a purple bruise was starting to take shape and the stitches by your temple were starting to tear open as specks of blood escape the wound. It also wasn’t just your obvious injuries she saw- your body looked heavy with defeat. “What do you need?” She asked kindly.

“I need a ship.” You rasped as you wiped your mouth and stood up.

“You have one.” Lyra pointed to the shuttle right next to you.

“No. I wouldn’t get out of the system in that. They’d find me immediately.” You reached down and took a blaster from one of the unconscious bodies.

“So, you need something off the grid that would not pass any standardised mechanical check?”

“Add in an already scrambled signature and yeah pretty much.” You inhaled deeply as another wave of nausea hit you.

“I know someone who owes me a favour and makes a living from selling ships like that. Can’t promise we’ll get very far but it could work.” She paused as she saw the way you still swayed on your feet. “Are you sure you’re up for that? I can go myself and meet-”

“I’m not getting separated from anyone else.” You said sharply before you straightened your shoulders. “Lead the way.”

--

You waited as Lyra squared up deal and studied your way out of here. The ship did look like a hunk of scrap metal, but it would get you out unnoticed and that’s all that mattered.

“Okay, let’s go.” Lyra said as she came over to you.

You sighed, “Lyra, thank you. For all of this. But you can’t come with me.”

Lyra placed her hands on hips in defiance. “I have nothing here, they wrecked my stall and raided the other stores. I’m going with you. At the very least, you need someone to treat that serious concussion properly.”

Dealing with your injuries were way down on your priority list. You could feel it creeping in again and you weren’t sure you had the strength to oppose it anymore. “What I am… what I’m going to do, you shouldn’t be around for. I can’t-”

“Can’t be worse than what I’ve seen already. Come on, we gotta get going.” She said with finality as she walked past you and up the ramp to the ship.

On her head be it. You thought to yourself as you followed her up and she got the ship in the air.

--

Omega walked out the Imperial shuttle with a deep sense of unease. She recognised Mount Tantiss and the presence of Nala Se troubled her. She feared for what this doctor had planned for her.

“Have Emerie see to her injuries.” Hemlock ordered the assistant that came to greet them.

Omega didn’t follow the woman, she just looked to Nala Se. “Why did they bring me here?” She didn’t get to hear a reply for the trooper behind her prodded her back to make her go inside.

Hemlock addressed the Kaminoan after Omega was out of earshot. “Your prime minister mentioned you had an attachment to the young clone, so I’ve returned her to you. Perhaps now, you will reconsider working on the Emperor’s project.”

“What he seeks is not possible.” Nale Se argued.

“Make it possible. If you refuse or fail, Omega will suffer the consequences.” Hemlock threatened.

Satisfied that his threat had landed effectively, he waved the Kaminoan away and went to go inside but a clone voice stopped him.

“Sir, we’ve heard reports on an attack on the squad escorting the Jedi and the shuttle never checked in. It would seem she escaped.”

Hemlock had to hide his surprise. Clearly something had happened he had not anticipated. “That is… unfortunate, but we’ll make do… for now.”

--

Omega was led into a lab and what she saw horrified her. There were tubes and rows of unconscious clones strapped down onto testing tables. Then her eyes caught sight of someone she knew. “Crosshair!”

She ran over to him and tried to rouse him, “Crosshair? Crosshair?” He showed no signs of movement. She heard the sound of oncoming footsteps and turned to see the woman that must be ‘Emerie’ standing behind her.

“You must be Omega.” Emerie said.

“What did you do to Crosshair?” She asked angrily.

“He’s recovering. I tried to warn him what would happen if he did not cooperate with the doctor.”

“I want to talk to Nala Se.”

“Ironic. You trust the Kaminoan, but not me.”

“I don’t know you.”

“No?” Emerie kneeled in front of the young girl and removed her glasses. “You might know me better than you think.”

Omega furrowed her brow.

“We’re sisters, Omega.”

--

Lyra finished tending to your head and cheek before she went to the cockpit to give you some time.

As you stared down the corridor and out into the blue clouds of hyperspace, you gained a true moment of clarity. The galaxy and the Empire had taken much from you, but you’d always been able to push through.

In a strange way, you’d even thought you were better off because of where you’d ended up. You had gained a greater sense of purpose, you had room to properly care for the people in your life, you had a family.

But now they’d gone too far. Too much had been taken from you, your family, from the people you loved, and you weren’t going to let it happen anymore. You couldn’t let it happen anymore.

You weren’t as strong as you’d thought you were. Something gets cracked enough times enough times, it’s bound to break.

You were done hiding.

Your arms fell to your sides and your fists clenched and the darkness you had been running from since Eriadu came flooding back. Only this time, this time you weren’t going to fight against it.

This time.

This time, you embraced it.

Oneshot>

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[nfumbewalk]

Graveyards: All About Them

First, here are things to do in a graveyard. This includes what to bring and what you can do plus some etiquette.

First, have decency and respect.

If you plan on gathering anything, bear the correct offerings. Such as: A small (1/2 oz) of hard liquor, payment (9 to 27 pennies), Jasmine incense joss stick, bouquet of flowers, Florida water (preferably homemade) OR Kananga water, also homemade - both of these are sacred to the muertos, but to draw them to you, Kananga water works best; good sized piece of Quartz, double terminated to use for housing a muerto temporarily (yes, you can put a muerto in a crystal but they must be transferred to a vessel and pacted within 2 days - no more than this.)

For protection in a graveyard, especially if you are very sensitive/psychic: Wear a white bandana on your head before even going in. And don't wear black when you go there. Why? As a daily wearer of black clothing, I noticed a big change when I wore all white to the graveyard. It's actually more powerful. White radiates healing power and seems to quiet the muertos, but it also gives them a sense of relaxation and peace when you are around them. They are easier to communicate with. I noticed that black seems to tangle up communication. I don't know why. I guess that white flows better. But I hate it because I instantly get white filthy. LOL!

Some ppl say that there are no dead souls at the graveyard, that they don't hang out there. That's wrong. Some of the muertos do hang out by their grave, watching over it. Many of them can be like sentinels. Rodolfo says he used to protect his grave but as soon as I found him and started visiting, he wanted to just be with me. I got that distinct feeling, so I picked him up one day. I didn't realize how successful I was!

Graveyard Work: That includes gathering dirt, Siphoning the Earth with a Baston de Muerto, curses and hexes, and other full blown rituals -these can be done - but homage must be paid to the Earth in the graveyard. The best way of doing this is a buried offering of your own blood on a piece of small parchment which is placed in a very small glass corked bottle. This buried offering gives you a real relationship with the land that holds these muertos. It is very deep respect. And no, there is NO gatekeeper in graveyards, That's a widely professed misconception. I have never once been approached or sensed any "gatekeeper" of any kind. All that there is - in a graveyard - is known as the "heart" of the graveyard. This is the central zone. It is sensed by feeling where you notice an electrical charge the strongest and a smell of the freshest air that you have ever experienced. I like to do my work there unless I'm at Rodolfo's grave.

What exactly to expect with graveyard work? Is it dangerous? Don't get your expectations up too high. Graveyard work is great and very powerful, but you are not exactly going to see flashing lights and muertos dancing. It is often very low key. But the results of graveyard work can be fantastic! It is only dangerous if you go into the graveyard with no knowledge of what this work entails. This is NOT for beginners! If you know nothing, you may get a spirit attachment and that can be hard to remove. Try the precautions I mentioned above.

Don't leave empty handed. Gather an item from the Earth of the graveyard besides dirt. I'm not talking about robbing graves. I'm talking about something like a white Quartz that is often on top of graves, or any other rock that has been sitting on a grave. This is another powerful totem that you can use in your practice to represent and draw Death Energy to you, It does NOT need cleansing. Cleansing would ruin it.

Kindness for the Earth and muertos - Please pick up any garbage that you see in the graveyard. People are litter bugs and I hate seeing trash hanging around a beautiful place that I venerate.

What NOT To Do In The Graveyard

Don't take this resting place lightly.

Don't yell or scream.

Do not run around in a graveyard unless there are trails. (We have them here in Oregon). Running is very loud to the muertos. Would you like your grave stomped on?

Don't litter.

Do NOT desecrate a grave, tip over, break, or steal a tombstone. It is not funny.

Do not have intercourse in a graveyard, It is very disrespectful. Not kinky.

Do not invoke/evoke Demons in a graveyard unless you know what you are doing. This can open you up widely for a demon/spirit attachment. I said lowercase "demon." That is my difference between known Demons and demons that are low level "lesser demons" and are not in a hierarchy. They can be extremely dangerous. These demons are NOT worshipped. Never give them blood. Once you have a lesser demon's name, it loses power and it's a lot easier to banish. I've done this four times successfully. It's very heavy and quite difficult but my method works.

Do NOT "ghost hunt" in a graveyard (or anywhere else!). It is extremely disrespectful and the muertos will leave. If there is any EMF involved, the muertos will not come back for a very long time or it will anger them so much that they will retaliate. They do NOT like EMF. That's why they love Shungite and Orgonite so much - gets rid of EMF. This is MY theory that I've studied and put to work. Rodolfo LOVES the Orgonite pyramid I put on his altar. To a muerto, EMF is like a huge bass speaker vibrating in their ears very loudly. Annoying? Yeah, I think so.

Do not talk shit about the muertos in a graveyard. This is obvious, right?

Refrain from drug and alcohol use in a graveyard. Picnics are acceptable though.

Well, I think I hit a lot of angles here. I hope this helps or is interesting. I'm not trying to be harsh with "rules." It is mostly common sense or just rules of thumb to keep in mind for a nice, safe, and meaningful visit to the graveyard for work or general visitation,

M.M.

[lemongrass--tea]

Good morning and Happy Friday! You are an incredible artist! I've been browsing your work (on here and on Pillowfort!) and I am amazed by your mastery of anatomy and how you infuse character in each of your pieces.

First, I saw through the #sdv elliott tag how you were asking about drawing other fans' farmers. If you're still interested, I happily offer up mine! You can DM me for references if you so desire.

Second, I want to know more about Elliott and Connor. What's Connor's story? How did he and Elliott get together? What do they love best about each other?

And correct me if I'm wrong, but I've inferred from some of your art that he is a tengu, or at least a related entity. That's so neat! Tell me more about that. 😁👍

Hee hee heee this came out so long lmao I tried to be concise but I’ve written the epistle of Connor and Elliott lore😩

(And I would love to draw your farmer I’m gnawing at the bars of my enclosure like a rabid animal)

Connor is certainly similar to a tengu in the sense that what he’s based on is a similar mischievous spirit fae species type thing. I combined two Caribbean myths for him, chickcharnie and gaulin wife.

Linked some info on the two, but I’ll say the gaulin wife telling here isn’t the exact one that I remember, there’s this one telling that has a song in it that the wife sings “oh what a foolish man, he married the gaulin” BUT IVE BEEN LOOKING FOR WEEEEKS I can’t find it it might be lost media🥲. I also can’t remember the EXACT way that version went since I heard last it when I was like- 11 lmao. But the concept is pretty much what’s in this version.

SO that gets us to Connor, I wanted him to have the whole monster bird fae elements of the chickcharnie to have a reason to be feared or distrusted by his home town, but I also REALLY love herons (hence the gaulin bride) and the whole jingle from that tale. So I was like, what if everyone around them (mostly from Connor’s home life because bird man cryptid is par for the course in pelican town I think lmao) would think Elliott to be like, crazy for wanting to be with a fae. So they’re like a twist on the myth where instead of the man seeing this perfect spouse that turns out to be a trick, everyone else EXPECTS a trick but they’re just hopelessly in love.

I hope that makes sense

So Connor has 2 sisters, Cara his “twin” and Khipz their younger sister. If you’ve ever seen that writing prompt where a fae asks a mother to pick which is their real child vs the fae’s copy and she responds like “they’re both my children” that’s kind of what happens here. I think it fits considering chickcharnie are known for like, kidnapping and luring little kids into the pine forest, fun stuff, so a baby swap sounds about right.

The real twin was stillborn/terminally ill, but their mother has connections to the local fae through her family (grandpa from the actual canon) having a good relationship through the time they lived in the valley. So she begs for a way to save the kid, and they grant this favor by doing a little swap, they take the baby and give her Connor.

The father is not quite so tolerant to fae activity, so he DOES NOT vibe with Connor, pretty much seeing him as like not really theirs, but ofc Connor’s a baby he has no way to understand the hostility here. But he’s willing to let him pass as long as he’s able to keep up appearances. This man is all about reputation and appearance, he wants that white picket fence life, hes a major business man in their town he expects perfection. But the cultural context of the fae being dangerous and uncontrollable he does not want people to know that he’s connected to that. So they raise Connor to suppress his magic and such, he has to keep up appearances as fully human, perfect little identical copy of his twin (which includes being raised feminine since the original expectation was two girls so that’s what Connor’s default appearance was)

At a point though a kids going to start developing their own persona, so once he hits teen years he’s not really comfortable being constrained to copying Cara. He’s allowed to shift his presentation to his current male presentation, but it does kinda throw a wrench in his dad’s perception of him. Every disagreement and every personal decision is more and more strain as Connor’s less willing to conform, which raises his dad’s concerns about his nature as a fae. Not to mention he becomes more of a liability reputation wise because the harder he tries to control Connor the harder he pushes back, babe is prone to reckless behavior (but really in the childlike skipping class and launching a dirtbike off a ramp into a lake or something way), and their dad does NOT know how to handle it besides meeting that energy with anger especially if he’s roping his sisters into his antics.

ENTER STAGE RIGHT OUR BABYGIRL ELLIOTT

I love the concept of him being an ex-trust fund rich kid that left to pursue his own desires. So they meet in like 9th grade or so, when their parents are meeting to discuss whatever business deal they’ve got going on. And they hit it off so much cuz they’re both starting to explore being their own person and discontentment with expectations and conformity, but at this point Connor does not tell him that he is not human due to fear that he might have the same disdain that his own dad has, especially considering even his SISTERS don’t know. His mother’s been telling him all these years you can’t let anyone know, we don’t want anyone to get hurt right? It’s just not the right time, I imagine there’s an element of him fearing HIMSELF a fair amount, especially since he’s not in practice of taking his bird forms. All of his focus goes into keeping that side of himself suppressed.

But time passes and yknow young love, they’re close friends and romantic feelings start showing up, they end up sharing their first kiss and Connor is unable to stop himself from just letting all those inhibitions go. He suddenly sprouts little baby feathers and the starting nubs where his horns would grow in, tail wagging a mile a minute, but while Elliott’s taking this in because WHAT HAPPENED Connor’s dad finds them in whatever room they’d snuck off to and man is LIVID because as far as he’s concerned his biggest insecurity just got outed and being fresh to his investors son, what are they gonna think of him, so improper, how dare you. He gets dragged off to get berated and such and gets banned from being allowed anywhere near the company lest he cause more problems.

Elliott loses contact because like, neither of them have any means of contact and then he gets sent off to a boarding school to finish high school, and he brushes off the whole thing in his memory like maybe I was just hallucinating. Fae aren’t common around the city so he wouldn’t be too aware of that being an option.

Connor has the whole thing in the back of his mind like oh he probably freaked out and hates me now just like father dearest said he would, especially since Elliott never got the chance to react beyond the initial shock.

DECADE PASSES

I mentioned before in his last lore post that there’s more mounting hostility and eventually Connor decides to cut off completely, his mom gives him grandpas land so he moves to pelican town.

And like imagine his shock to see Elliott there, standing on that bridge, he’s internally freaking out then he turns and smiles at him with the opening line “oh you must be the new farmer everyone’s talking about, it’s a pleasure” and he politely kisses his knuckles and it’s like a complete parallel to their first kiss where he just loses it all over again. And like in that time he’s had other relationships other flings, and he thought he was in complete control because NEVER after that first time did he ever have a slip up again, then Elliott comes along and just KNOCKS EVERY WALL DOWN with a fleeting GREETING of all things.

Then there’s like this pause of realization from Elliott of oh my god it’s you.

I’m so unwell for them. Elliott gets his proper explanation of him and it’s like, the first time he’s not pressured to have to hide himself anymore, he thinks it’s **fascinating** and beautiful not something to be feared and reigned back. So they get to rekindle that long lost friendship and all those feelings come tumbling back into the equation.

They definitely build their relationship off emotional support and shared experience, two bros against the world frfr