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badwolf-in-the-impala · 4 years ago

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~Whiskey Lullaby~

--Chapter 12--

Image credit: Myself @badwolf-in-the-impala. None of the images are mine, only the editing.

Previous Chapters: ((Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11))

Rating: Mature/18+

Warnings: Alcohol and drug use/abuse, violence, suggested physical/sexual abuse, kidnapping, sexual content, angst...So much angst.

Chapter Warnings: Angst, language, alcohol use, suggested kidnapping/being drugged.

Word Count: 4,184

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Tears streamed down Teagan’s face as she sped down the Highway, away from the only true home she’d ever known, and the safety of Charming, the roar of the engine drowning out her sobs as she grabbed another gear. Not even bothering to look down at the speedometer to see how fast she was going. Teagan no longer cared. She would allow herself this one final moment of weakness -- as everything replayed over in her head like a broken record -- and then she would shut it down. Every last fucking feeling, and Godforsaken memory she had made since her return to Charming; she was gonna bury it all. Just like she always did. Putting her cold, bitchy exterior back in it’s rightful place...And she would be damned if she ever let anyone break through it again. Ever.

Teagan’s heart was shattered into a million pieces, and the worst part? Was that it was her own stupid fault. She had known better than to fall for another fucking member of Samcro, and yet here she was; Hammer down, doing an excess of 90 miles an hour down a fucking highway, sobbing her heart out over the Scotsman who wasn’t even hers to be crying over to begin with! She knew better, and yet she still let it happen.

How could she have been so stupid?

It was like she was reliving her fucking past all over again, minus the fact she hadn’t gotten anyone killed this go around. At least not yet. Teagan’s heart pounded hard inside her chest, feeling as though it were about to break through her ribs, as images of Chibs’ accident suddenly flashed through her mind. The explosion, seeing him in the hospital, the fights with Tawni. His Wife.

It was all so overwhelming that it caused her to nearly crash her bike. Her vision blurred so badly because of the endless stream of tears, that she could no longer see the road clearly, forcing her to downshift quickly as she veered towards the edge of the road. Thankful that she was going slow enough when the front tire of her bike clipped the gravel, causing her to lay the bike over.

Teagan gasped for air as she skidded to a stop, yanking her helmet free and throwing it with a significant amount of force, into the bushes, after she had managed to crawl out from underneath her bike, clutching her sides as she curled in on herself, her forehead pressed into the dirt as the sobs fell from her lips. Unabashedly, she allowed her tears to fall, alone on the side of the highway, until she had no more left to cry; Finally consumed by the deep seated, familiar, numbness that she had been praying to take over.

So with a final deep breath, Teagan pushed herself up onto her feet, grabbing her discarded helmet from the bushes and tugging it back on firmly before fastening the strap securely beneath her chin and picked her bike up out of the dirt; Climbing on and restarting it the engine roaring back to life aggressively beneath her, as she sped back off down the highway. Headed for Lodi.

Tig came screeching back into the lot at warp speed a few hours after all the shit that had gone down between his sister and Tawni. He had taken off right after in hopes of catching up to Teagan, in order to attempt to bring her back to the Club House -- or at the very least, calm her down and find out what exactly in the fuck was going on. But she had torn out of the lot like a banshee. Hammer down and no plans on slowing down enough any time soon for him to come even close to catching up to her.

Tig having lost sight of her before he even managed to reach the county line. But that didn’t stop him from speeding on pursuit for another ten miles --silently hoping she might eventually slow down-- before finally giving up on the chase entirely...He knew his sister better than that. Because once Teagan found herself in the frame of mind she was currently in now, she was done...Ties cut, bridges burned, she was gone. And even in her current situation, there would likely be little chance of her coming back. Even if it meant risking her ass.

“Son of a bitch!” Tig yelled as he slammed his helmet down onto the handlebars, the outburst catching the attention of everyone who was sitting outside; Unser included. Which wasn’t a good sign.

“Any luck?” Jax questioned as Tig approached the group. A frown graced his lips as he watched Tig shake his head and run a frustrated hand through his already unruly dark hair.

“Nah...And no thanks to the help of Chibs Jr. over there, she’s probably halfway to Timbuktu by fucking now!” Tig snapped as he turned his attention on Tawni, who was now on her feet, face red and looking like she was about ready to knock his lights out when Unser finally stepped in.

“‘Fore everyone goes gettin’ their panties in a wad,” He started. “How about we take a moment to think, huh? Just where exactly would Teagan have go...Havin’ nowhere else to go?”

“Why should it even matter?” Tawni snapped, her accent slipping through the cracks as her temper flared. “So she took the fuck off, jus’ like she always does! Big fuckin’ deal! She’s a Goddamn coward -- An’ if you want my personal opinion, good fuckin’ riddance.”

“Well you can take that opinion of yours and shove it up your uptight little ass!” Tig sneered, his eyes narrowed at Tawni as he moved to step around Unser, stopping as Gemma stepped out of the club house, the shrill sound of her voice putting an abrupt, but brief halt to whatever argument was about to erupt between the two.

“That’s about enough outta the both of you!” Gemma scolded, pointing her finger between the both of them as though they were little more than children who had just gotten into a serious amount of trouble, both of them, bravely, ignoring Gemma as they continued.

“She’s my sister! Only I get to say that shit about her!” Tig shouted at her. Tawni rolled her eyes and waved him off as he took a step away from her, beginning a slight pace and rubbing a hand over his chin roughly, trying to calm himself and think at the same time. They could practically see the steam coming out of his ears.

“Yeah? Well, it’s my uncle, you fuckin’ egg!” Tawni yelled right back at him. Tig looked at her, confused for a split second, then he scrunched up his face and scoffed.

“Oh, come on, Tawn. Are you on that shit? They didn’t fucking sleep together! She’s not fucking your goddamn uncle!” Tig shouting, waving his arm toward her, before continuing his pace.

“Jesus Christ...Did you hear that from her? Or did Chibs tell you?” Tawni asked, crossing her arms. Tig turned to her and said, “Why would she lie? What reason does she fuckin’ have, Tawni?!”

“Cause she didn’t want to be fuckin’ caught, yeah?! The same reason she did everything!” Tawni screamed at him. Tig’s lips twitched and he stepped up to Tawni, too heated to care about hitting a female, but Jax wrapped a strong arm around Tawni’s waist to pick her up, as if she was nothing, and took a few steps back with her before setting her down, all with his phone pressed to his ear.

“Yo! Ho! Wait a minute!” Jax called out, trying to listen to whoever was on the other end of the line. He uttered a quick ‘Got it’ before snapping his phone shut and turning to Tawni and the rest of the gang. He gave a small smile and said, “Chibs is awake.”

Teagan let out a soft sigh as she ran her finger around the edge of her whiskey glass. Her opposite thumb and forefinger pinched the bridge of her nose as she closed her eyes for a moment before knocking back the amber liquid, and motioning for the bartender to top it off once more. The older gentleman gave her a skeptical look, but didn’t ask questions as he grabbed the bottle of Jack Daniels off the shelf, and refilled her glass, opting to leave the bottle behind this time. After all, she had been sitting in the same spot for a good four-ish or so hours now, with no intentions of leaving anytime soon.

Stuffing her hand into the pocket of her leather jacket, Teagan pulled out her phone and flipped it open, seeing yet another text from Tig. Teagan hit ignore and snapped the phone shut before dropping it haphazardly onto the bar, pushing it aside. He had been attempting to reach out to her since she jetted from Charming earlier that morning. But as usual, Teagan ignored him. Not really in the mood to argue with her brother about what had gone down between her and Tawni. The only thing Teagan wanted to do right now was forget...Even if only for a little while. She just wanted to forget about Charming and everything in it that she had just left behind; Possibly for good this time.

Another buzz from her phone sounded, followed by another, and another, but they all went ignored as Teagan focused on the bottle in front of her. Allowing the growing chatter amidst the bar’s patrons to drown out the vibrations of her phone as she tried to keep her thoughts at bay. But it didn’t seem to matter.

Shot after shot, he was still there in the back of her mind, lying broken and unconscious in that hospital bed, and it broke Teagan’s heart to think of how he would probably never know why she really left, if and when he ever did wake up. Teagan’s jaw clenched as she ground her teeth together at the thought, briefly, squeezing her eyes shut tightly to stop the tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks as her lip quivered, her heart heavy in her chest as she knocked back another shot.

The hours ticked on slowly as the amber liquid drained from the bottle in front of her. Customers came and went -- most leaving as the hour started to grow late -- but Teagan remained rooted to the exact same spot she had been in since arriving, until the bottle of Jack in front of her sat completely empty, the bartender finally sounding off last call before he started closing up shop for the night.

“You gonna need anything else, love?”

Teagan glanced up through blurry eyes, pushing her hair away from her face as she blinked a few times, momentarily expecting to see Chib’s standing in front of her; A frown taking hold of her features when she was greeted by the face of a stranger. Teagan shook her head slowly as she pushed herself off the barstool and onto unsteady legs. Stuffing her phone back into her pocket before pulling some cash out of her wallet and tossing it onto the bar, motioning that she didn’t want her change as she spoke, “M’alright.”

“You sure?” The bartender frowned. “I can call you a cab if you want?”

“I’ll be fine.” Teagan waved it off as she stepped away from the bar, swaying lightly. “Hotels jus’ right around the corner.” She muttered as she skulked off drunkenly towards the door of the bar. Not waiting for the bartender's reply of protest as she pushed it open and stepped out into the cool night air, pulling the almost empty pack of smokes from her pocket and shoving one of the cancer sticks between her lips.

Teagan exhaled a frustrated sigh as she leaned against the building's brick wall, pausing to fish around in her pockets for her lighter, sparking up the end of her cigarette and taking a long drag before snapping the lighter closed and returning it back into the pocket of her coat. She fished out her phone as the smoke trailed past her lips and up into the night air, flipping it open to find several more missed texts from Tig, one from Jax, and another from Gemma. Instinctively, Teagan opened the message from Gemma, first.

“He’s awake.”

Teagan’s chest tightened as she read the message, and then read it again, and again, and again...Her hand moving up to cover her mouth, muffling a sob as her vision blurred with tears. Suddenly flooded by the drunken realization of how stupid she actually was to catch feelings for a man she knew she could never have. And how stupid she was being right now for wanting to rush straight back to Charming after everything that had happened. Wanting to rush straight back to Chib’s, so she could profess her idiotic feelings while he was conscious this time, and tell Tawni just exactly where she could shove it. But that was more or less the alcohol in her system talking...Any and all of her rationality having gone out the window hours ago when she stepped foot into the bar she now stood outside of.

Pressing the phone to her forehead briefly, Teagan tried to steady herself by drawing in a deep breath. Using her sleeve to dry the tears that had managed to escape before she shoved her phone back into her pocket and pushed herself away from the wall and started walking. Hoping that the brisk walk back to her motel in the cool, late night air, might help sober her enough to actually make a rational enough decision about the situation at hand. But that was unlikely. Because her first instinct as she cut through the alley just down from the bar, was to fish her bike keys out of her coat pocket. Her pace quickening alongside her own heartbeat, as she made the split second decision that she was going back; Even if it was just to give Chib’s a proper goodbye before she disappeared for good. A decision she would most likely come to instantly regret. But nevertheless, her mind was made up as her bike came into view and she began to fish around in the pocket of her jeans for her room card so that she could grab her bag and haul ass back towards Charming.

She had almost reached the end of the alleyway, just a few more steps, when something that sounded a lot like footsteps caught her attention and caused her to pause. Teagan turned to glance over her shoulder, searching for the source of the sound but only finding darkness. She shook her head, blaming her foggy drink clouded mind for playing tricks on her as she turned her back to the darkness, bringing a foot forward to take a step, and that was when it happened. The sharp, searing, pinch of a needle being jammed into her neck.

Panic surged through every fiber of Teagan’s being as her vision began to blur rapidly, her first instinct to run, only her body --now paralyzed-- betrayed her. Sending her plummeting towards the ground instead. Saved only by a strong set of arms, from what would’ve surely been a brutal impact with the pavement beneath her. Her panic quickly turned to fear as her vision began to darken, and an all too familiar, twisted, laugh filled her ear. A laugh that she thought had been long forgotten.

“Come now my little Raven. We’ve got so much to catch up on.” The voice cooed sickly as Teagan’s weight was shifted and she was lifted off the ground completely. One last chill ran down her spine as the dark clutches of unconsciousness closed in around her, turning her vision black and claiming her only seconds later.

The steady beeping of hospital machines greeted Chibs for a second time that day as he was gently roused from his sleep by the familiar soft murmur of voices in his room. Shifting with a soft groan, he opened his eyes slowly, blinking a few times to try and clear his vision before taking in the familiar faces of Jax, Gemma, and his niece, Tawni.

“Well it’s about damn time.” Gemma quirked a soft smile at him as she turned her attention away from the conversation she had been having with Jax.

“How are you feelin’?” Tawni cut in, shifting in the chair beside his bed as she perked up out of her own half asleep daze. A faint smile tugging at her lips as Chibs gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.

“Like absolute shite…” Chibs admitted truthfully, wincing slightly as he shifted in the hospital bed. His voice was hoarse and the dryness in his throat from a lack of water made him cough slightly, sending Tawni into overdrive as she started to fuss over him and what he needed.

“I’m fine, Lass.” Chibs assured as he grabbed Tawni’s hand to keep her from running out of the room to fetch Tara or the nearest nurse. Nodding his thanks to Gemma who helped prop him up with another pillow before she offered him a cup of water. “One of ye goin’ to tell me exactly what the hell is goin’ on?”

“Well, in short, you got blown up.” Gemma replied sarcastically, earning a scowl from Tawni who didn’t find it nearly as lighthearted or funny as it was intended to be.

“Could’ve fooled me.” Chibs snorted. “At leas’ tell me ye caught the bastard responsible, Jacky?” There was a round of wearily exchanged glances between everyone in the room. Something that made Chibs uneasy as he awaited an explanation from someone. Anyone.

Jax stepped forward towards the foot of Chibs’ bed and cleared his throat. “We don’t exactly know for sure yet who planted the bomb...But we’ve got a pretty good idea that it was most likely that bastard, Zobelle. There’s been a lot of shit gone down the last few days man.”

“Christ.” Chibs closed his eyes for a moment as a wave of pain radiated through his skull. Forcing him to draw in a deep breath before he tried to speak again. But Tawni spoke up before he had the chance.

“Maybe we should just let him rest before we start bombarding him with the shitshow that’s been going on the last few days.” It was more of a demand than a question. One that had Gemma fixing her with a hard stare, which Tawni was quick to ignore. “Besides, there’s someone come a long way to see Uncle Filip--”

If y’er referring’ to who I think ye are -- Already seen her...Don’ care to do it again anytime soon.” Chibs grit out as he spoke of his estranged wife, Fiona; Who had just so happened to have been there when he woke up the first time. Needless to say, she could have come harboring better news in a time like this.

“But--”

“I don’t wanna hear any but’s, Tawn.” Chibs sighed, bringing up a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose lightly between his thumb and forefinger. His eyes snapping back open suddenly upon a realization that he hadn’t heard, nor seen, anything from Teagan since he first woke up. As a matter of fact, it seemed like the few people he had asked seemed to be avoiding the subject of her entirely. “Where’s Teagan?” He blurted out suddenly, a flash of memory. The exact moment before the explosion when they had locked eyes. It caught everyone but Gemma off guard. “Is the lass alrigh’?! The explosion -- Is she--”

“Aside from a concussion due to a pretty nasty bump on the head, alongside some other minor injuries none explosion related,” Gemma paused to cast a glance in Tawni’s direction, briefly, before continuing, “Teage’s alright.”

Tawni let out an audible scoff as she sat back in her chair, crossing her arms tightly over her chest as she looked away. “Bet she knew it was comin’.” She muttered bitterly, a little louder than intended. All eyes suddenly on her.

“The hell is that supposed’ta mean, Tawn?” Chibs snapped as he pushed himself up the best he could into a sitting position, wincing as another wave of pain washed over him. Jax immediately tried to step in and defuse the situation.

“Maybe this isn’t the best time to be airing out all the shit that’s been goin’ down between you and Teage--” Jax tried, but his words fell on deaf ears as Tawni shot out of her chair; Full blown raging Irish, as she began questioning her uncle.

“The hell is tha’ supposed’ta mean?! Why don’ ye just tell me! Huh, Uncle Filip? Wha’ ‘xactly has been goin’ on between ye and tha’ Crow Eatin’ skank--” Tawni was all but bright red and screaming when Chibs cut her off, having heard enough as he leveled her with a stern glare and an even sterner tone.

“Chibs--” Gemma spoke softly, a small scoff leaving her own lips as she threw her hands up quietly in frustration as Chibs silenced her with a finger of his own. His dark eyes never once left his nieces’ as he turned that finger on her.

“What goes on in my life in none of y’er business, and I will not be spoken to like a fuckin’ child, Tawni Rose! Nor will I have ye referrin’ to y’er own best friend as if she’s some goddamn Crow Eater!” Chibs scolded, his voice rising steadily with each beep of the EKG machine. Tawni scoffed.

“Right. Well, yeh’ve given me the rule of not fuckin’ yer pals? Well, ye can’t fuck mine either!” Tawni screamed at him. Jax tossed his hands in the air and sighed, in defeat, as the door opened and Tara shot in, glaring around the room.

“Okay, I think we’re going to suspend his visitation for the night. He’s only just woken up. Getting him riled up will only do more damage.” Tara said, staring at each of the three in turn, before turning to look at Jax. “I need you all to leave. Now.”

Tears slowly began sliding down Tawni’s cheeks and she let out a final huff at her uncle, before grabbing her bag at the end of Tara’s little tirade and storming out of the room. Gemma quickly gathered her jacket and purse, standing to follow, but Jax caught her by the arm and shook his head.

“I’ve got her. Go home, Mom.” Jax said, softly, before hustling out the door and down the hall, breaking into a sprint as the elevator doors opened in front of her. “Tawni, come on…”

Though she saw him running at her, she didn’t hold the doors for him, but she also wasn’t in a rush. ‘Let’s see if you can catch me.’ She thought. But Jax was too fast, barely catching the doors on either side of his shoulder, though the bump was gentle. He gave Tawni a look as she rolled her eyes and stepped back. The doors opened again and Jax stared her down as he stepped inside and let the doors close behind him. Tawni still refused to meet his gaze, leaning against the walls as the car began to move. Shifting his feet and sliding his hands into his pockets, Jax said, “You wanna tell me what that was all about?”

“Not particularly, no.” Tawni shot at him, swiveling her head up to look at him. A brief smirk passed over his lips as a soft scoff escaped from them.

“Right. So, is there a reason you brought up fucking his pals?” Jax asked, raising an eyebrow at her. “Something he ought to know too?”

Tawni rolled her eyes and groaned. “Oh, please. He made that rule after he found out about me and Kozik. I’m simply reminding him and adding an amendment.” She said. Jax laughed.

“‘Amendment’? What, are you our new lawyer?” He teased.

“Shut up, Jax.” Tawni said, pushing him out of the way as the doors opened at her floor and strode out. Jax was quick to keep up with her, taking a few big steps to catch up with her once she left the elevator.

“Alright, fine. But seriously, Tawn. What was that? So, what if they fucked? They’re both grown ass adults. Teagan knows what she’s doing, so does Chibs.” Jax said. Tawni scoffed as she slipped her bag over her head once she spotted her ride through the window.

“Exactly. They knew what they were doing.” She spat. “Tawni knew she was fucking around with my uncle and Chibs knew he was fucking around with my best friend. That, Jackson, is what that was.”

Jax scoffed and rolled his eyes, stopping just outside the doors and watched as Tawni crossed the lot and took a helmet from Juice’s outstretched hand, then swung onto the back of his Harley; The pair speeding away a few moments later.

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Sorry it’s been a while since I updated! Quarantine depression is a bitch...Anywho, if you would like to be added to the taglist for future chapters/update, please let me know! ^-^

TAGLIST: @jacksonroseroth @cole-winchester @stacie-marie-bloom @journeyrose @penny4yourthot @xbreezymeadowsx @miss-nori85

#Chibs Telford #Sons of Anarchy #Filip Telford #Filip Chibs Telford #SOA #SOA fanfiction #SOA fanfic #Chibs Telford x OC #Chibs x OC #Fanfiction #Writing #Tommy Flanagan #Whiskey Lullaby #Original Female Character

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radramblog · 4 years ago

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Top 5 Games, ever...?

This was sort of on my mind, considering the recent GOTY post I made. Come explore the hyperfixations that managed to stick around long enough to be my top 5 list.

5. Uhhhhhh

So turns out I haven’t figured out what number 5 is yet. I suppose instead I’ve got to split it among the honourable mentions, huh.

Kirby Super Star Ultra is probably the best game from the GBA/DS era of the series and is just a blast to play. It introduced Masked Dedede, and all the banging music and memes that come with it, and probably deserves a spot here just for that.

The Binding of Isaac: Rebirth removes all the awkward Flash Stuff from the excellent original, and adds so, so much more content- the game’s final expansion still isn’t out yet as of writing but even now there’s just so much to unlock. While some aspects of the game can be pretty unforgiving, you probably aren’t going to be exposed to the worst of it unless you get into it pretty hardcore, and if you do, you’ll get used to it. It’s a roguelike, after all.

Speaking of roguelikes, FTL: Faster than Light is chaotic yet serene, brutal but fair, and a bunch of other pretentious dichotomies wrapped into a neat little bow. It takes some getting used to the mechanics, but once you get the hang of it, building your little ship up and up in the face of all odds is extremely satisfying. Have fun dying hopefully not too many times.

SPEAKING of permadeath, Realm of the Mad God gets a spot here just out of sheer hours I’ve spent with it. After a messy few years with a not-so-great owner lead me to dropping the game, it seems finally to have recovered and has devs and community that actually freaking care about it, which is nice. Also, it’s free, and the recent transition to unity has the game looking better and playing smoother than 12-year-old me could ever have dreamed of.

Terraria isn’t just 2D Minecraft btw, its actually more of an RPG/Metroidvania thing, you probably know at this point, but its pretty good hey. Still haven’t fully dove into 1.4 but considering I thought Red was done at 1.1 I’m not complaining with what I have played.

4. Fallout: New Vegas

(...ish??)

I’d argue that between the primitiveness of the original Fallout games (I’ve tried to get into them, but I just can’t) and how…meh… the other Bethesda ones are, New Vegas is the only one in the series to stand up strong. Obsidian’s excellent writing and tweaks to the gameplay of 3 make New Vegas feel like an actual world, rich and characterised, which was something I found lacking in previous open-world RPGs I’d played up until that point (which admittedly might just have been Skyrim). It’s a game that challenges you to make choices that actually matter for more than the mere moments of an altered dialogue tree, both in dialogue and character building, which helps make the game actually replayable. It is also the first game in a long time that really sold the idea of DLC on me, seeing as each of the game’s 4 expansions adds an entire new region of world with its own stories and unique gameplay, tying together with the main plot but standing on their own. I am excluding Gun Runner’s Arsenal from this for obvious reasons, though it isn’t like GRA is a bad DLC or anything- on the contrary, the sheer scope of modifications and munitions makes playing a repair/science-based character incredibly fulfilling- but it just isn’t at the same scope as the other 4 (Courier’s stash barely counts seeing as its just oops! All preorder bonuses).

New Vegas is one of the few games I have actually 100% completed, achievements and all, but I’m still pretty sure there are bits I’ve missed, paths I haven’t taken, characters I haven’t talked to. Despite its inhospitability, the Mojave is always a comfortable place to return to.

3. VA-11 Hall-A

(Hey look, my phone background)

Vallhalla is a masterclass in storytelling, atmosphere, and aesthetic. Like all good cyberpunk dystopias, you get themes of class and transhumanism and artificial intelligence, but they aren’t the point of Vallhalla. Through the window and lens of cyberpunk and PC98 nostalgia is focussed a surprisingly human story centred around the protagonist, Jill, which through multiple replays still hits me in the feels just so. Of course, Jill’s story is not the only one being discussed, as every single patron of the bar has their own life going on, and the glimpses we get imply a rich, often interconnected, world. Glitch City is, frankly, a shithole, and it’s not like you don’t get some assholes coming into the bar while you’re working it. The first patron you serve, in fact, is a great example of this- Donovan D. Dawson, essentially a parody of J. Jonah Jameson, is a colossal prick and knows it- but its clear he has his own system of morals and it is mentioned that he’s excellent at his job, much as he gripes about it. He’s rude and more than a little sexist, but frustratingly charismatic and authoritative, and he’s just one of many people who show up throughout the game. Vallhalla is the perfect game to sit down, grab your preferred beverage, and just relax with.

2. Total Annihilation

(This image is on the steam page for this one, despite blatantly not being from vanilla TA)

I think I actually need to explain this one. Total Annihilation was a game released in 1997 made largely by Chuck Taylor, who would later go on to produce spiritual successor Supreme Commander. It’s an RTS game featuring exclusively robotic units with a fairly chunky aesthetic, allowing the visuals to age better than some, and a fully orchestrated soundtrack by Jeremy Soule, who would later go on to do work on a whole bunch of stuff, most notably Skyrim.

Total Annihilation is an intensely nostalgic game for me, being one of the first games I ever got to play as a kid outside of edutainment stuff, and I’d argue still holds up today (especially with the excellent Escalation mod). What it lacks in story (it’s pretty basic, but functional) it makes up for being miles ahead of its time mechanically, being the first (?) RTS to function in 3 dimensions- heights of things actually matter, hills exist and certain units climb them better than others, shooting down airplanes is difficult without anti-air but possible if you aim *just* right. While appearing pretty similar and having largely analogous units, the two factions of Arm and Core are well fleshed-out in terms of aesthetic and playstyle- Arm preferring fast and cheap equivalents to Core’s slow but powerful- and the unit variety is sufficient that strategies can vary wildly based on the map. Both campaigns as well as those from the game’s expansions are challenging, but satisfying, limiting the units you can produce to force exploration of different playstyles.

Total Annihilation isn’t something I tend to binge play for hours anymore, but I’ll pick it up for a bit every so often, and I don’t see that stopping for a long time (especially due to the recent steam release).

1. Pokémon Emerald

(At the top, where it belongs)

Yeah, this was inevitable. Pokémon is my favourite series ever; Emerald is my favourite in the series. Go figure.

Emerald, being the final game for the franchise’s days on the Game Boy, reflects everything Game Freak had learned in the first 3 generations of the series’ history. The game’s balance is challenging but fair, never spiking so tough that it is insurmountable but never holding your hand either. The AI opponents are throwing odd combinations of mons and moves at you from every corner, double battles are everywhere but rarely mandatory, and the variety of available mon both before and during the postgame is excellent. The added features on top of Ruby and Sapphire are great- Battle Tents serve to replace 3 of the contest halls (they should have all been under one roof to begin with) and provide a taste of what would later be available in the Battle Frontier. The Frontier is probably the single most expansive and challenging postgame in any Pokémon game, providing the game with a longevity that is sorely needed due to the inaccessibility of Pre-DS multiplayer. The game also manages to tie together the plot of both Ruby and Sapphire into something that feels natural, and provides the series’ first ever actual cutscene, which felt a lot cooler at the time than it sounds now. The return of animated sprites gives the Pokémon a level of life far beyond the static sprites of RSFRLG, and in my eyes wouldn’t feel the same until Black and White several years later. The return of the Pokégear phone in the form of Match Call, as irritating as it is to some, makes the world feel alive in a way that Sinnoh and Kanto probably never will, in addition to making grinding a fair bit less tedious and more beneficial. It is, altogether, probably the perfect Pokémon experience, and in my opinion only one other game comes close (its Platinum).

Oh also, they got rid of the font from Ruby and Sapphire, thank fuck, that shit is atrocious.

#ramble #video games #pokemon #retro games #lists

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toomanytuesdays · 5 years ago

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Part two of the Spn GC fam fic

Yes, it is intentionally fam fic, I coined it today.

I have been involuntary volunteered to write part two of Cas’ one-shot (which defeats the purpose of a one-shot but whatever) and so here it is! You can read part one here

word count: 1200 (hell yes I got it on the dot)

The pair rounded the corner of a small street lined with yellowing trees, complemented by the cutest little cottages Dean had ever seen. He didn’t even know this part of the neighbourhood existed. As he wandered behind Castiel, admiring all the cottages they passed, Sammy seeming like he was doing the same, an odd thought struck Dean. He could actually imagine himself living here. He quickly shook that thought from his mind, as he trained his eyes back to Castiel, who abruptly turned, passing through a small white picket gate and up the pathway to an elegant, blue-ish tinted cottage.

‘Just like his eyes,’ Dean caught himself thinking. Again shaking the thoughts from his mind; he’d only just met the guy, he pulled on Sammy’s leash, leading him in Castiel’s wake. The front steps up to the house looked to precious for Dean to stand on with his muddy boots. He told Sammy to heel before he too ruined the delicate steps with his own muddy paws. As Castiel reached the front door, he turned to Dean, frowning.

“Are you not coming in?” he asked, confusion laced in his voice.

Dean shuffled on his feet. “I don’t want to get things muddy. I can just wait here with Sammy and-”

“Don’t be silly,” Castiel cut him off. “Mud is the least of my worries.”

Dean hesitated, before slipping his boots and socks off and stepping on the front steps. He used his dirty socks to attempt to get some of the dirt off Sammy’s paws before unclipping his leash. The mastiff bounded up the stairs and through the open door that Castiel had now disappeared into. Hesitation struck Dean again, this time as a result of his survival instincts. This was a stranger and he was going right into his house, into his territory. While Castiel looked completely harmless, anything could still happen. Innocence is the easiest cover for a serial killer. Looking over his shoulder in both directions, Dean took a deep breath before starting up the steps and into the house.

Inside the light grey carpet was soft on Dean’s exposed toes, and he found himself in an open-plan living and dining room that looked bigger on the inside than it did on the outside. The furnishings were simple, with a large beige couch pushed up to one wall, expensive but comfortable looking armchairs encircling it, and a dark wood media cabinet opposite, which complemented the TV than hung on the wall above. The dining room was simplistic too; a hardwood table with six faux black leather backed chairs surrounding it. A simple chandelier hung gracefully above the centre of the table; a lace runner made the table look longer than it was. To the left of the dining room, the kitchen was tucked away in the corner overlooking the back garden, where the two dogs were already playing like they had known each other for years.

Dean wandered around the room, taking in the interior design with a curt nod. There were no pictures anywhere, he noticed, except for one green and blue marble-textured painting that hung above the couch. As he made his way over to examine the painting, Castiel emerged from the door beside the kitchen, a fresh pair of socks and pants in his hand.

“Here you go,” he said handing them to Dean. He took them gratefully and motioned at the painting.

“I like the painting,” he said, trying to make conversation. Castiel just smiled and gestured down the hallway where he came from.

“First door on the left,” he said. “Would you like a tea or coffee?”

“Coffee please,” Dean said and he moved to head to the bathroom. As he passed Castiel, the pair brushed shoulders and Dean violently blushed. He murmured an apology before skidding down the hall and into the pristine bathroom. Why was he acting this way? This tomfoolery. He had to get a grip on himself before he embarrassed himself. He quickly changed his pants, thanking the lord that his boxers were still dry as the thought of wearing Castiel’s stirred something inside of him that caused him to take a second to calm down. He splashed some cool water on his face, breathing slowly before folding up his dirty pants and leaving the bathroom.

When he made it back into the living room, Castiel was already seated at the table, two steaming mugs of black coffee on coasters in front of him. He was staring out the large bay window, watching the dogs wrestle over a stick. Dean sat down opposite him, grabbing a mug and pulling it close.

“It seems like the dogs are not scared of each other anymore,” Castiel murmured, not taking his eyes off the hounds outside. Dean just nodded, taking a sip of the dark black liquid.

“I wasn’t sure how you liked your coffee,” Castiel said, turning to face his new companion.

“Black is the best way,” Dean replied, almost moaning at the flavour of the coffee; how does he even make normal coffee taste so damn good? The pair struck up a conversation easily, and Dean couldn’t help all the thoughts that were running through his head. Like how Castiel licked his lips before he talked, and how his fitted shirt (he had removed his trench coat) pulled against the muscles in his arms as he leaned on the table, and especially the blueness of his eyes. Dean could stare into them for hours.

And hours did pass. The two talked until evening, and with each passing hour they felt more and more at ease with each other. By 5:30pm, they felt like they had known each other for years. The two dogs had long been tired out; Sammy now curled up at Dean’s feet snoring away, and Meg was on one of the armchairs, little feet twitching in her sleep.

While Dean and Castiel had reached the topic of favourite movies, there was a sudden click at the door. Both dogs were instantly awake and barking, Sammy’s deep barks much louder than the yips of Meg. Both Dean and Castiel turned towards the door; Dean in utter confusion and Castiel naturally stood, as if expecting this visitor. Keys turned in the keyhole and the door was pushed open. Castiel was already making his way over to the door, blocking Dean’s view of the new person who interrupted their party. The dogs also bounded over to greet the newcomer. Sammy jumped up, but Dean was too distracted to tell him off. As Castiel reached the visitor, Dean got a glimpse of her. She was a shorter woman with reddish brown hair, cut just above the shoulders. She wore a simple purple shirt and jeans, and grinned when she spotted Castiel.

“Hi, honey,” she said and the pair leaned in for a kiss. Dean was taken aback. Here he was thinking this guy was gay and single, but his assumptions were wrong. He blamed the house; there was no trace of a woman here at all. As the pair pulled apart, Castiel turned to Dean.

“Daphne, this is my new friend Dean,” he introduced. “Dean, this is my wife.”

#destiel #destiel fanfic #fanfic #supernatural #spn #supernatural fanfic #spn fanfic #dean winchester #castiel #cas #castiel novak #dean #deancas #dean x castiel #dean x cas #jensen ackles #misha collins #jenmish #cockles

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boymeetsweevil · 6 years ago

Text

For Science 5/7

Grouping: Reader x Nerd!JK

Word Count: 17.5k haha wtf (NSFW)

Warnings/Themes: omg okay swearing, Boobies, graphic-ish Cunnilingus, endangement of Hoseok’s chin, Spit :/, Masturbation, mentions of porn haha, Making out, (Hoseok’s) male gaze??? Idiot!Kook, Jealous!Kook, Violence? (lmao it was very mild violence and mention of blood but not graphic), gratuitous use of soap-opera level drama

Summary: Jungkook asks you to let him watch you get off. For science.

A/N: I’m tagging @m-icdrop , @jiminslye , @ephemeral-mindset, @sugarandpoppy, @monstar95, @sweetestkth, @limitlesxxsxx, @simplyfinessin, @park-geemin to let you know that this is here! If any of you would like to stop being tagged with each FS update, let me know. And if anyone would like to be added to the tag list, also let me know :)

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 6, part 7

Being a good friend, as you’re realizing now, is so terribly hard and you wish someone had told you earlier in life so you could make the informed choice of becoming a nun. Or maybe just a plain old hermit.

Either way, waking up in the middle of Yoori’s bedroom finds you feeling less rested than you would have liked. Probably because you dreamt that you had been transfigured into a dog by Hoseok wearing a witch’s costume and forced to be the family pet to Yoori and Jungkook’s 16 children. You end up waking with a jolt, still in Yoori’s bed and covered in cold sweat, wanting nothing more than to go home and leave everything at school behind.

Still, you soldier through the rest of the night, staring at your laptop instead of doing work, only eating half of the pizza she ordered for you and numbly carrying a large Tupperware container that held the leftovers back to your apartment.

You end up eating the pizza for breakfast the following morning in some meagre effort to comfort yourself. Nothing helps, though. Not using the special body wash that you usually reserved for special occasions. Not putting on the velvet joggers you wore when you needed a pick-me-up. So, you try going in the opposite direction. Instead of putting in extra effort, you put in zero. You don’t bother stressing about putting your hair into an intricate style so you’ll look more put together. You don’t bother trying to buff your skin to a shining, baby glow. Instead you slather your face in moisturizer and throw your hair into a bun, which seems to do the trick. Giving up on some of the tinier details that would often gnaw at the edges of your collectedness improves your mood slightly. So does taking the rest of the pizza in with you for lunch.

The universe takes pity on you and the day goes by quickly. On Friday, It feels almost as though you only blinked but now the sun was setting around 4:30, as had become habit.

You wipe the drool that was pooling at the corner of your mouth while you tried some old number theory problem sets from a class you took freshman year. It had been difficult because you’d forgotten how shitty proofs can be, but it had also been just the time sink you needed.

Coming to the usual study spot you and Yoori established a few hours prior was bittersweet. Normally she would be there, perhaps with a steaming mug of something calming waiting for you, ready to work in companionable silence with gossip breaks sprinkled in between. Today, she wasn’t there, so you had the whole table to yourself. You sit in her chair to throw some novelty into the mix. And because you miss her. But now that your momentum is broken, you decide to turn to the window instead of people watching. Even though there’s none of the softly falling snow Yoori always raves about, the view is still nice.

The last few rays of the winter sun are stretching out, leaving the campus bathed in blood orange light and catching the reflective parts of the packed snow on the ground. There’s something picturesque about the way the campus pond, now frozen, sits in the center of the landscape and frames the sheet of mountains running in the distance. But it feels very lonely as well.

You check your phone and find no text messages from Jungkook and only one from Yoori asking if you have plans for Saturday night. You tell her no and begin packing up.

Normally, you’re not a big going out person, but you find your lack of plans for this weekend a little bothersome. You know Jungkook and Yoori will obviously be busy that evening, and perhaps even the whole weekend. But that leaves you with Taehyung and Hoseok to have a good time and the prospects for that seem weak. You try sending a text to the two of them asking if a bar sounded like a fun idea but Hoseok messages back that he already bought drinks for tonight. You suppose you’ll have to try again next weekend.

Taehyung’s words of assurance about how Jungkook suddenly getting a girlfriend wouldn’t change the group dynamic float into you’re head. But you’re not so sure you believe them in this moment. Things don’t seem as fun and you’re not sure if it’s just because you’ve spent the whole day moping or if it’s because Jungkook has been carrying the group dynamic on his back the whole time and you never even noticed until now.

It’s a frightening thought and it’s also a little unfair to Hoseok and Taehyung. Although you’re not as close to them as you are to Jungkook, it’s not like they’re strangers. You’ve spent a great deal of time on your own with both of them, and even though you fight with Hoseok from time to time, you have made some nice memories with the both of them.

As you walk to Taehyung’s apartment for game night, you’re reminded of the times you’ve spent with the both of them. Like when you needed to fulfill your PE requirement for the year, so you and Hoseok took a snowboarding class together. You can admit, albeit reluctantly, that you bonded over many nights of numb toes and icing each other’s injuries. There’s also the time that you and Taehyung thought learning Russian would be a fun idea. You ended up leaving the Russian club after the first weekly meeting, but Taehyung still goes and is now the club Treasurer. It had been a fun hour of your life, though.

“Hey,” Taehyung chirps when you finally arrive at his apartment.

“Hey!” You fling yourself at him, full of emotion from the walk down memory lane you just took. He’s stiff in your arms for a moment, but settles into the hug after a beat.

“What’s this all about?” He chuckles, patting your back affectionately.

You extricate yourself from him and drop your things at the doorway before turning to Hoseok with a determined look. He snorts at you but doesn’t try to hide from your grabby hands, much to your surprise.

“I just wanted to let you guys know that I’m really glad we’re all friends. You mean a lot to me,” you mumble into the collar of Hoseok’s shirt as you press wrap him in a sincere hug.

“Are you not wearing a bra?”

“Except you,” you push him off you roughly. “Not you. I don’t like you.”

“Aw, come on!” He grins wryly at you from the floor. “You know you like me.”

You make a show of brushing the residue of your hug off the thin and oversized sweater you’re wearing. “No, sorry. I was a different person 20 seconds ago. I’ve changed. I’m better now.”

Hoseok hops up and chases you around Taehyung’s tiny dining room table until he manages to trap you in a corner by the kitchen entrance and wrangle you into a bear hug. You play dead to deter him, but instead he just laughs at the limp way your feet drag on the floor and waddles with you still in his grasp to the living room. Taehyung looks for the right game to play.

He chooses Wii Resort, which is not even remotely close to being your favorite, so you sit out and let the third controller lay unused on the ground. Instead you find yourself seated with your back against Hoseok’s chest in the La-Z boy, feet stretched out to rest in Taehyung’s lap as he sits on the matching ottoman.

“It’s fucking freezing in here,” you whine.

“I told you to wear layers. I’m trying to lower my utility bill,” is all Taehyung says as he moves his mii into yet another jungle setting for a mini game.

You pout. “This sucks.”

“It really doesn’t,” Hoseok interjects, “This is one of the better game nights we’ve had in a while.”

“You’re just saying that because this is the only time you’ve been able to win at a game.”

“Be nice to Hobi.” One of Taehyung’s hands drop down to dig into the arch of your foot as a warning. You squeal, knee kicking out wildly and without your permission, forcing your head to crack back against Hoseok’s chin.

“Ow! Fuck! What the hell is wrong with you, Tae?” Hoseok reaches up to clutch at his face, controller falling into your lap.

“Dude, I was defending you! How is this my fault?”

“You know it’s against the rules to tickle her when another person’s nearby unless it’s a tag-team.” He whines and taps you on the shoulder. You turn to face him sheepishly, knowing it’s partially your fault too. “Am I bleeding?”

“Thankfully, no,” you coo after a careful inspection. “But if that were any higher up on my leg, I don’t think you’d still have a face.”

“I know.”

You pat his hair soothingly, but turn back around soon after Hoseok stops cradling his face. “Maybe we should call it a night.”

“We can’t! I’m not even buzzed yet. And we haven’t gone all the way around the board.”

“Tae, this game is trash. I don’t want to just sit and watch.”

He waves a hand dismissively, unpausing the game without even looking at you. “It’s not my fault you’re a fake Nintendo fan.”

“Ooh, are you gonna take that,” Hoseok’s eyes widen at Taehyung’s comment.

“I’m not even gonna dignify that with a response,” you sniff. Reaching out, you grab at the closest, non-empty beer bottle you can reach and take a swig. “But I am gonna get going so you can enjoy your shitty game by yourselves.”

“Come on!” Hoseok whines again from above you and from your vantage point it looks like his face is starting to swell. You silently hope that it doesn’t get bad until after you leave. “You can’t leave. Then it’ll just be two guys playing Wii resort.”

“Arriving in 13 minutes.” You burrow further into his chest to steal some warmth for a minute. You vow that the first thing you’re doing once you get home is taking a hot shower.

“Let her go, Hob. She’s not cool like us.”

Taehyung’s Mii reaches the top of the mountain at that moment. The victory cry he releases is entirely too loud and definitely not appropriate for someone only playing Wii Resort. He gets up from his chair and starts gyrating at the TV where Hoseok’s mii is crying large blue tears.

“Congrats on your victory. I’m out.”

The ride home turns out to be less relieving and more depressing as you get closer and closer to your apartment. Jungkook and Yoori are probably somewhere having an amazing date and will probably then go have amazing virginal sex in the backseat of Hoseok’s frat brothers’ car that Jungkook borrowed for the occasion. Taehyung and Hoseok actually like Wii Resort and will probably spend the rest of the night getting drunk off their asses playing that and having more fun than is objectively reasonable. Meanwhile you will probably stand naked and shivering in your bathroom for, like, 8 whole minutes waiting for hot water to make it through your plumbing.

Nothing like depressing thoughts to start your weekend off well.

Perhaps the universe decided to take pity on you once again because when you get home and disrobe, you only have to wait 6 minutes for the hot water. And it doesn’t run out after another 5. You also let yourself sing loudly to your Spotify ballad playlist titled ‘lady heartbreak’. Normally, you only cry to that playlist, so you think of it as personal growth.

Once you’re out the shower and your voice is hoarse from the ‘singing’, you change into light pajamas. Despite the fact that your heater is fixed, you still keep it firing at almost full blast because you prefer the heat to the cold.

Before you can flip back the covers on your bed when you hear a loud knock on your door. You figure its either Taehyung or Hoseok, or both of them, looking for something to do now that the game has lost its charm after a million rounds. But a quick glance at your phone shows no text messages from them saying that they’d be stopping by, which they usually do. The door thumps like someone’s body is slamming against it and you pray that its one of your stupid friends just being inconsiderate and disorderly.

You’re about to leave your room to see who’s at your door when another loud sound startles you. Its as if someone is carefully trying to rattle the window leading to your fire escape. All the while the loud knocking at your front door continues to ring through the apartment. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you’re certain you saw a news special about something like this. Pairs of burglars come to innocent women’s houses after they’ve stalked them long enough to learn their schedule and see if they live alone. Then they both show up to the house at different spots to distract the victim and break in more efficiently.

In this scenario, you’re certain they’re expecting you to go to the front door. But you’re smart, dammit. You decide to give them a surprise and approach the window first instead, phone clutched in your hand with the police a button-press away. You yank back the curtains and quickly activate your flashlight mode to see who is trying to break into your house. The pair of wide eyes that greet you back almost make your drop your phone.

“Jungkook,” you hiss incredulously.

Carefully, you unlock your window and slide it up so he can climb off the fire escape and collapse face first into your room. Clearly, he is slightly inebriated.

“What are you doing here?”

“Shh,” he sticks a finger into your face, “She’ll hear you.”

“Who’ll hear me?”

The apartment is eerily quiet when you realize that the loud knocking is replaced by jingling of keys and the sound of the front door being pushed open.

“Jeon Jungkook, who the hell is that in my house?”

“It’s Yoori,” he whispers with genuine fear in his eyes. “Crap!”

You can’t do much besides react on auto-pilot and pull back the many blankets and comforters lining your bed for him to dive under. The sound of Yoori’s slow, stumbling footsteps as they make their way into the heart of the apartment are better than any horror movie soundtrack. You find yourself diving into bed too, knees bent, hoping that you look casual and can hide Jungkook’s shape. He pokes his head out and grins at you from the shadows between your bare knees.

“Is anyone home,” Yoori calls from somewhere in the living room.

“I’m in my bedroom,” you respond. “It’s the last door on the right in the hallway.

A few moments later, Yoori is peering curiously from behind your door. You realize she still hasn’t seen your room despite the fact that she’s been to your apartment in passing a couple of times now.

“Hey, Yoori.”

“Hey. Wow,” she hiccups, “This is very you. I like the tapestries.” She turns in a circle to take in all of your room’s décor.

“Yep. So, uh, what brings you here?”

“I asked Jungkookie to drop me off here.”

“Oh, you did? Where is Jungkookie now,” you ask neutrally before casting a brief but discrete annoyed look down at Jungkook’s semi-visible face under the covers.

“I think he’s probably filling up the car’s tank. He has to return it to the fraternity before it gets too late.”

“He didn’t want to come in with you?”

“No. I told him I wanted to have some girl time with you to talk about the date. But then I got to your door and remembered that you don’t like to talk about romantic stuff like that.”

You shove your hands down into your lap and over his face so he can’t see the way yours heats up in embarrassment.

“W-well that’s just because he’s my good friend, you know. I didn’t mean much by that.”

“It’s okay, I understand.” She smiles down at you sleepily before walking over and moving like she’s going to sit with you in bed.

“Um, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” you shoot your hands out to keep her sitting.

“Why not?”

She pouts softly down at you. You wince knowing that her feet probably hurt from a night in heels and all she wants to do is sit to rest. But your loyalty lies elsewhere at the moment.

“Because…I have no pants on.”

“Really?” She grins and peeks down like she hopes to see through the blanket covering your lap. “That’s okay with me. You probably don’t have anything I haven’t seen before. And if you did, who cares?”

You decide that you won’t probe her about that and instead redirect the conversation.

“Yeah, but I’m kind of shy when it comes to that stuff.”

“That’s right. I forgot.” Yoori sighs sadly. “Maybe one day we’ll get there. That should be our next friendship goal. Getting you to feel less shy around me.”

“Y-yeah, okay.”

You watch as she swings her heels tiredly in her hand and searches for a nearby cab. She finds one relatively quickly and gives you a one-armed hug around your shoulders before scooping heading out. You wait a few more minutes, just in case she magically returns for something she left behind despite the fact that she left the spare key on your bedside desk and the front door locks from the inside automatically. Once you’re certain you won’t be found out, you rip the sheets back angrily.

“Explain yourself quickly, Jeon.”

Jungkook squints up at you now that the dark cover of your blankets isn’t shielding his eyes anymore. He’s lying on his stomach between your bent legs, propped up on his elbows. It’s a compromising position that you’re glad Yoori didn’t catch you in.

“I told her I needed to fill the tank, but I told her I was doing it at the gas station on 5th street instead of the one across the street from here.” He grins up at your cheekily like he’s done something extra clever.

“Yeah, I figured as much. But why did you do that? And then why did you risk falling 20 feet to climb up the fire escape and come in through the window.”

“I wanted to hang out. I feel like we haven’t seen each other in a while.” His hand reaches out to stroke at the expanse of your bare thigh.

“Jungkook, you’re dating Yoori,” you sigh and move your leg away. “The weekend stays are over now.”

“We’re taking it slow, though.”

“Not slow enough for this to still be a thing.”

“It is slow enough.” At your raised eyebrows, he stammers. “We-we haven’t even held hands yet.”

“Really,” you can’t help but ask. The pang of satisfaction you feel knowing that Jungkook still hasn’t taken things further with Yoori makes you feel a bit guilty. But you can’t help it.

“Really. So we can still do this, right?”

“I don’t know, Kook.” Your lip ends up tucked between your teeth in indecisiveness.

“Please? I missed you,” he whispers quietly. It’s all you’ve ever wanted to hear from him and you give a quick nod lest you start shrieking from joy if you open your mouth.

He shuffles until he can pull you closer by the hips. When you’re on a slight incline, your multiple pillows holding you up, Jungkook removes his glasses. You watch silently as he places them next to the spare keys before leaning into your space, eyes dropping closed.

You let your jaw relax in anticipation of his mouth. But you’re surprised when the first thing you feel is the dry press of his lips to your cheek. It’s sweeter than you were expecting, but you’re not complaining. Eventually he makes his way over to your mouth and begins kissing you in earnest. Small pecks transform into languid caresses of his lips over yours. Your tongue comes out to swipe at the seam of his lips and he immediately opens up to let you in, groaning at the feeling of you in his mouth.

He lets a sharp breath leave his nose and surges forward, pressing himself to you as close as he can after having shuffled you even closer so he could lean over you. When you suck on his bottom lip, he lets out a low snarling sound. His hands come down to clamp onto your waist like a warm vice. Carefully, you entangle the fingers of one hand in his hair, while the other smooths down the curve of his broad shoulders. The feeling of the muscles in his back flexing under your hand is a feeling you didn’t realize you could take for granted. But somehow you have because its amazing to have it back.

The two of you make out for a while. Jungkook tastes of dessert wine and cheesecake. Its not necessarily a combination that you find unpleasant, but it reminds you that he just came back from a date. And while he left that date and came straight to you, you still don’t like it. You kiss him harder with the hopes that it’ll take away the remnants of his time out with another girl. A girl who is your friend. He whines and lets you ravage his mouth. Little do you know that each swipe of your tongue against his own has his growing harder in his slacks.

“Wait a minute,” he gasps against your mouth before slowing down a bit by planting small kisses on the hinge of your jaw and the soft skin of your throat.

“Too fast?”

“Yeah.” He chuckles bashfully.

You’re content to let him come back down from his fast-approaching high by sucking lightly on the skin near the collar of your white tshirt. There will probably be some light bruising that you’ll have to cover up if you’re still going out with Yoori tomorrow, but you don’t care about that right now. Instead you’d rather revel in the sensation of Jungkook’s traveling kisses. Though they started at the hollow of your throat, they’ve collected on your clavicle and he’s now trailing them over the fabric of your shirt by your sternum. It’s sweet.

And then its suddenly not so sweet as you feel his heated breaths puff over your nipple.

Obviously, you’re turned on and you’re not wearing a bra because you thought you were going straight to sleep. So its completely understandable why your nipples would be hard, then. What you’re not certain of is what Jungkook is planning. He’s no longer continuously pressing kisses into the shirt and is now sporadically planting them around the stiff peak that is raising your shirt material slightly, just breathing heavily over it. The heat you feel doesn’t do anything to calm you down and instead it has you squirming in his hold.

One of his hands comes up to rest some of his weight on your shoulder, effectively keeping you flat to the bed. A quick glance at him has your breath hitching loudly in your throat. He’s staring intently down at your breast, like he’s trying to make a tough choice. The moment is so thick that you don’t dare move. Not to encourage him nor to inquire what he plans. Instead you lay with bated breath, watching him slowly descend the last few inches. You squeeze your eyes shut milliseconds before his mouth envelopes your covered nipple.

“Oh shit,” you curse quietly.

Despite the thin cotton barrier, you can feel very clearly the hot, wet pressure of his tongue swirling around your nipple. All of the movements so far are experimental, hesitant in their rhythm. He hollows his cheeks softly and sucks and all of the sudden a long, drawn out moan leaves you. It gives him the confidence he needs to take his free hand and pinch at the other side, fingers mimicking the rhythm his mouth is setting over you.

Quickly, though, the shirt becomes unbearable and you get annoyed at the thought that such a stupid barrier exists between you and Jungkook’s mouth. You wriggle resolutely under him until he huffs in annoyance and pulls away to see why you’re interrupting him. When he sees that you’re merely hiking the shirt’s hem up to your armpits and exposing your breasts to him, he hums contentedly. He swoops back in, this time to the other side, and begins laving at the tightened bud. Your hands scrabble for purchase and eventually make their way back to his neck again.

“Jungkook,” you breathe raggedly into the crown of his head.

“Hmm?”

“What’s the—mmh fuck—the occasion for all this?”

He comes up with a slick popping sound, looking up at you with dark and hooded eyes. The sight sends a bolt of arousal to your core.

“Just been wanting to.” With that, he returns to making a mess of your chest.

Somehow, in the series of achingly long minutes that follow, you manage to get his button down and undershirt off. The sight of the smooth planes of his skin make your hands itch to feel him. You try to pull him up so you can have better access, but he won’t budge as he begins to kiss lower once both of your breasts have been thoroughly marked. You give up and try to predict what he’ll do next as he digs his fingers into your waist appreciatively and kisses a ring around your belly button.

He proceeds lower, his destination becoming increasingly obvious as he playfully flicks at the tiny ribbon decorating the front of your panties before halting. Tentatively, he pushes an index finger underneath the elastic lining where your thigh meets groin. You can feel what you suppose is the puff of his breath across the crotch of your panties.

“Can I—”

“No,” you blurt, legs snapping closed. Jungkook scoots back just at the right time to save his head from being crushed. “S-sorry.”

“No, it’s fine.” He runs a hand through his hair nervously. “Do you just…not like it?”

“I’ve actually, uh, never…” you trail off until the words are lost in the mounds of pillows surrounding your head.

“What?”

“Nothing. It’s just that I’ve never really had anyone go down on me before.”

“Really?” His eyebrows shoot up behind his slightly damp bangs. “Not even with Yugyeom?”

You wince at the mention of your ex. Yugyeom had been your first and only boyfriend and you had a good run and even what most would call an amicable breakup. But one of the more bitter moments was the one time you’d attempted to get him to go down on you only for him to wrinkle his nose and tell you ‘he wasn’t into that sort of thing’.

“He just wasn’t interested.”

Jungkook nods understandingly for a minute before his gaze is drawn to the space at the apex of your clenched thighs again.

“Are you? Interested?” His tone is heavy with implication and the way he casually hovers over you while sitting back on his heels just makes you feel tiny.

“I-I mean, I guess I am,” you stutter.

“Okay.” He gets back onto his stomach, hands gently prying your knees apart until there’s enough room to accommodate his broad shoulders. “So can I?”

“Go for it.” Your words come out in a squeak.

“Thanks,” he smiles softly.

You can’t see anything because you’ve thrown an arm over your eyes self-consciously. Normally, these moments between the two of you have your stomach in knots for a different reason, but now you’re just plain nervous. You’re diligent about hygiene and you remind yourself that you just took a shower. But it had just been a normal shower and not a booty-call shower. What if he thought you smelled weird? Or that you tasted weird? For some reason, this felt more intimate than all the times before this where he was merely watching and you were the one doing the work down there.

Jungkook hooks his fingers into the waist band of your underwear, pulling it down with your help when you lift your butt. You bite your lip nervously and lift your arm slightly so you can watch his reaction.

He doesn’t have any sort of adverse reaction once you’re completely bare in front of him, though you suppose he’s familiar enough not to act surprised by anything. But you’re not expecting him to dive in suddenly until he’s less than an inch away from your sticky folds. You shouldn’t be embarrassed that you got turned on from making out, but it’s like everything has flipped and suddenly you know how he felt during those first few times together.

You can’t take the silence anymore. “What is it?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re so quiet.”

“I’m just trying to decide what to do first.”

“Oh. Sorry I can’t be of service.”

He smiles at how awkward you’re being before moving a tiny bit closer and taking a large inhale. Your eyes widen and you move to clamp your legs closed to shut him out, but he’s ready this time. One hand presses down on your pelvis while the other one presses on your hip, effectively pinning you to the bed.

“Calm down. It’s just me,” he whispers before inhaling deeply once. Twice. Three times more. All the while you can’t help but squirm. But he only increases the pressure of his hands with each antsy wiggle of your hips.

As soon as you decide to be still again, he releases your hip to spread you open with two fingers and presses a gentle kiss to your clit. You nearly jump off the bed at the foreign sensation.

“Jungkook, wait, I—” but you don’t manage to get the words out before he kisses you again.

This time his tongue flicks out to collect some of arousal that’s been steadily collecting despite your nerves. As soon as the flavor spreads on his tongue, he freezes. You wonder for a moment if he’s going to pull back and say he’s made a mistake. But then he surges forward again and begins licking broad stripes across you, catching your clit every so often.

He watches you carefully to gauge your reactions to what he’s doing. Taking in your heated face and dewy skin, he deduces he’s going in the right direction. And when he drags the flat of his tongue over your entrance as if to drink from you, your lip automatically gets stuck between your teeth and your eyes flutter shut. It’s a good series of reactions, but he wants more from you. He wants to get you to do that thing where your back curves up off the mattress or get your hands to scrabble at his arms to ground you while you shake under him.

“Oh god. Right there,” you gasp when he wraps his lips around your clit randomly and sucks.

Jungkook nods resolutely before re-wetting his lips and repeating the action. You moan loudly when his tongue brushes against you in the midst of the suction. Your hand finds its way to the back of his head and presses until the lower half of his face is almost entirely flush with you. You remove your hand almost immediately once you realize what you’re doing.

“Sorry,” you mumble, “I got carried away.”

He pulls back with a wide grin and shining cheeks. “It’s okay. It’s good to know its going well.”

Your hand falls back down to rest tentatively near his head. You watch the shining brown mop of his hair return to bobbing between your legs and feel another rush of arousal gush forth. Even if you couldn’t feel it, Jungkook’s following groan of pleasant surprise and the wet sounds that follow have your eyes rolling to the ceiling partly out of acute pleasure and partly out of disbelief. Why couldn’t your life always be this nice and worry-free?

Jungkook’s gently circling fingers around your entrance have you snapping back to the present. You wonder if tonight is going to continue being a night of firsts when you remember that Jungkook probably hasn’t done much ‘internal’ work.

“Would it be too much?” Even though he doesn’t specify, you know what he’s asking.

“Just go slow.”

You’re already quickly approaching an orgasm, but hopefully this will get you there quicker. You feel almost sluggish with the fiery heat that’s seemingly been spreading from your core to the rest of your body in time with each pulse of his tongue. But when he inserts the first finger, you feel impossibly warmer.

His jaw drops open as your warm heat envelopes his digit immediately in a wet, vice-like grip. He can only imagine what it would feel like if he could be inside you the way he wanted to be, but even that pale phantom grip in the back of his mind is enough to have him bucking into the mattress. He leans in to press lingering kisses to your lower lips while twisting his wrist in matching time. Soon you’re clutching at his shoulders, gripping his hair, kicking your feet anxiously as your high approaches. You can almost taste it and stars are collecting in the corners of your vision as Jungkook continues to lap at your center messily. As if he can read your mind, he withdraws only to enter again with two fingers this time. It’s just enough thickness to stretch you the way you want, but the angle is off.

“Jungkook.”

“Hmm?”

“Bend your fingers back and press up.”

“Like this,” he asks while making some motion, concentration creasing his brows.

You quickly reach down and re-orient his wrist. With great care, he reproduces the motions at the new angle and delights in the fact that you’re now quaking above him. Broken variations of his name tumble from your lips as the waves of your orgasm take over. Your legs kicks out as they characteristically do and so he positions them to hang more safely over his shoulders, despite the fact that your ankles tickle at his sides. He presses a chaste kiss against the skin of your inner thigh and hopes you don’t notice the way he nuzzles into the skin to wipe his face off a bit.

When you’re limp and your breathing has returned back to normal, he crawls over your legs to lay beside you.

“Was that good?”

You turn to face him and take in his sweaty face and pleased expression. You roll your eyes and shove at his chest, but he just grabs your hand and squeezes it before releasing it.

“It was good. But don’t get a big head, you still have to climb back out the window later.”

“Am I banned from the door?”

“I’m still mad you decided it would be a good idea to climb the fire escape when you’d clearly been drinking.”

“Not a lot, though. I was still able to drive.”

“That’s not something you should advertise,” you laugh.

He shifts a little awkwardly next to you and you realize he might not have gotten the same thing you did from eating you out. He notices where your gaze travels and grins shyly, shoving a spare throw pillow over the tent in his slacks.

“Ah, sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry. I just wish I wasn’t so tired. Otherwise, I could—”

“Don’t feel like you have to. I was just gonna take care of it myself.”

“Oh. Like, right now?”

“Yeah? If that’s okay.”

“Okay.”

You sit back and watch as he slowly shirks off his dress pants and briefs in one go. His erection springs forward and from the almost angry red flush across the shaft, you figure he must have been pretty uncomfortable. He strokes it absent-mindedly and realizes that he doesn’t have any lube before turning to you.

“You wanna do the honors,” he asks with his palm out. It takes you a while to understand what he’s asking.

“Like, you want me to…?”

“Yeah.”

With all your remaining energy, you attempt to spit into his palm in an attractive manner. You’re not sure if you succeed, because as soon as you’re done he gets to business. The way he moves his hand over his length is rough and fast. Almost as if he’s trying to play catch up; not necessarily with you, but maybe with himself. With whatever thoughts had been plaguing him earlier while you came on his fingers and tongue. His breath leaves him in little punched gasps and the sounds are so pleasing that you lean forward and capture his lips with your own.

You wouldn’t quite call what you’re doing kissing. It’s more like a series of brushes of lips as his erratic hand movements cause him to move in and out of your space. Though he occasionally stops to steal a few kisses, they only seem to egg him on further until he can only touch his forehead to yours while he brings himself over the edge, spilling into his hand.

“Better?” You pull away to grab some wet wipes out of the side table drawer.

“Definitely,” he sighs. “I can put these sheets in the wash before I go, if you want.”

“Oh,” you blink up at him. “You’re leaving?”

“Yeah, I have to get some sleep. I promised Yoori I’d take her to breakfast at Dreamies.”

“Wow. You’re taking her to Dreamies? Are you sure you’re not more serious than you’ve been letting on?”

“It’s not like that,” he laughs stiffly as he tugs on his clothes. “We’re getting food to-go and then going to a butterfly garden.”

“Well, that sounds fun too.”

You can’t help but let out a sigh of relief. Dreamies is the diner you and the rest of the group frequent when you’ve all done too much drinking the night before and need good hangover food. It’s also open 24 hours, so sometimes it’s where you all go when you have nothing better to do or when you just want to have a wholesome time. A lot of good memories have been made in Dreamies, but its always been with the whole group. The idea of Jungkook bringing Yoori there for a private date doesn’t exactly sit well with you. Though it’s not like you can say anything because no one ever did establish that Dreamies was a group space exclusively. And even if someone had, who are you to make demands about where Jungkook and Yoori go out on dates?

Jungkook makes good on his promise and puts your sheets in the wash and even makes your bed while you wait for the washer to stop. He leaves when the dryer cycle finishes, pulling you in by the waist and kissing you deeply before strutting out the door with a flourish.

“I come bearing clothes,” you say as soon as Yoori opens the door.

She’d told you over the phone to bring some things to go out in after bugging you about firming up weekend plans. It still isn’t clear where you’re going, so you have brought a variety of outfits to cover the spectrum of possible events. You figured that you would get ready at her place as soon as you found out where you were going. But when she opens the door with makeup already done and her hair already curled, you’re a bit confused.

“Hello! How are you, my lovely?” She envelopes you tightly in a hug before taking the clothes out of your hands.

“I’m great. I got all excited on the way over because I thought we were gonna glam up together here, but it looks like you already did that.”

“I know,” she grimaces. “It’s just that Jungkook asked me if I wanted to go to the arcade out of the blue after we got brunch and I didn’t know what type of atmosphere that might be, so I just got as ready as possible. And then we went on a drive. We didn’t actually interact with any other humans. I could have worn my PJs.”

“That’s Jungkook for you,” you snort dryly. “So, uh, how was that drive?”

“You don’t have to ask me how our date went. I know it’s awkward to talk about dating your best friend. I’ll spare you.”

“Thank you.”

Yoori hands you a glass of your favorite wine, something she’s been keeping regularly stocked in her wine fridge since you became friends. You toe off your shoes before heading into the living room with her.

“Do you want tonight to be a surprise or do you want me to tell you where we’re going?” She reaches out to play with a loose string on the throw blanket adorning the couch, watching you with wide eyes as you drain your glass.

“Tell me. So I can pick out my outfit accordingly.”

“Okay. Just…promise me you won’t knock it before you try it.”

“I wouldn’t do that unless you said we were going somewhere ridiculous.” You tilt your head with a no nonsense stare. “And we wouldn’t do that, right? We’re not doing anything ridiculous?”

All she does is beam at you before pulling her phone out and scrolling through her photo album until she comes to the right image. She hands you the phone silently, lip bitten in anticipation.

“Hell no,” you say as soon as you see the flyer she’s taken a screenshot of. It’s advertising a Lady’s Night at a club with an open dance floor and drinks at a discounted rate. Immediately you hand the phone back and wish for more wine to magically appear in your glass.

“Please? I feel like it would be so fun, and it’s supposed to be a really great place. Pretty please?”

“Why can’t we just stay in and order Thai? I like your place, you don’t have to take me anywhere.”

“You make us sound like an old married couple. Besides, you never spend your weekends anywhere other than with those boys.” When you give her an unamused stare, she backpedals. “Charming as they are. Don’t get me wrong, I love them all. But don’t you think it would be fun to switch things up? Neither of us go out enough. We’re wasting our youth and beauty.”

“Excuse me. You’re dating my best friend, remember?”

“And by ‘we’, I meant not me.”

You roll your eyes and opt into searching for the wine bottle she used to pour your first drink. It catches your eye across the room where it sits at the long cherry dining table. You move to get up, but Yoori clamps down on your wrist with a pleading expression.

“Please?”

“I don’t want to spend the money.”

“I’ll pay for both our cover charges. Please?”

“The drinks will be shitty and I’ll need to be drunk to enjoy it.”

“We can drink here first and call a cab. Please?”

“I didn’t bring any makeup.”

“You left some over here from last time. Pleeease?”

“But the guys there will—“

“I’ll protect you,” you frown, unconvinced. “Please? I’ll even stay sober the whole night so nothing gets by me.”

“Fine. But only for an hour.”

“What? That’s too short, nothing good can happen in an hour. That’s too unrealistic. Two hours.”

“I’ll give you an hour and a half. After that, we’re coming back here and I’m sleeping over. Deal?”

She considers your conditions for a brief second before finally letting you get up. “You have to let me do your makeup and let me put pictures on my Instagram story.”

“Sure, but that will cost you another 15 minutes.”

Your back is turned to her as you fill up your glass, but you can practically see her writhing with indecision. Schooling your features into neutrality, you turn back to face her, and she straightens up.

“Deal.”

It takes much longer than it should have to get ready, but in the end, that’s a good thing because Yoori had originally wanted to show up to the event on time. Though you don’t get out much, even you know that arriving fashionably late means a better chance at getting there when everything is in full swing. Much better than getting there when there are 10 people in the whole club and no one is having any fun yet.

You let her apply your makeup, but you don’t let her pick your outfit much to Yoori’s chagrin. It doesn’t matter though because you’re no less miserable as she drags you into the bathroom to take a series of selfies.

That’s not to say that you hate selfies or that you never take them. You take them when you’re bored, when you’re texting the group chat, when you’re talking to your mom, when you’re home alone and feeling yourself. Next to Yoori, though, you can’t help but feel a little intimidated. Yoori doesn’t know your angles, Yoori doesn’t know your favorite filters and it’s not something you can just ask someone to change. Specific filters and angles are the bread and butter of anyone’s best selfies, and they’re not easily interchanged for someone else’s. As an engineering student, you can appreciate the complex science that is selfie-taking. And as much as you love Yoori, you don’t want to be the eyesore on her Instagram and cost her followers. Part of you hopes she gets drunk so you can take her phone and delete them later.

But she stays true to her word and doesn’t drink any more after leaving the apartment to go to the club. You stay true to your word as well and toss back another drink as soon as you get there, hoping that it will calm your nerves. In all honesty, you know there’s nothing to be nervous about, but you still order a second drink at the bar immediately after so you have something to do with your hands. You look good and you most likely won’t see any of the people at the club ever again, but you still feel out of place.

“You look terrified,” Yoori whispers in your ear. She’s been watching your expression carefully the whole time and has started to regret bugging you about coming.

“I am.”

“If you want, we can just go home now. I didn’t realize you hated going out this much.”

“It’s not that I hate going out,” you shout over the music. “It’s just that I can never let go off what other people might be thinking about me. And if I can’t do that, I can’t have fun.”

Yoori nods in sympathy. Although, she also doesn’t like the feeling of being scrutinized, she knows you’re coming from a different place. You’ve spoken candidly to her a few times about you feel like the two of you make an odd pairing. She remembers the way you spoke about her, all laudatory words, and then how you spoke about yourself. Yoori wants to compliment you the way you do her, but she knows that certain kind words only act as cold comfort for you.

“What can I do?”

You ponder the question for a bit. You figure, if you can manage to fake having the time of your life for 10 minutes, you can trick yourself into actually having fun for the rest of the night. With that thought, you finish your drink in a few large swallows before grabbing Yoori’s hand.

“Do you wanna dance with me?”

Yoori blinks down at you with wide eyes but nods somewhat shyly. You let her guide you into the throng of dancing bodies. As the song washes over you, you do a simple two-step while you decide what type of vibe to go for. Quickly the song grows on you, and you begin to put more energy into your dancing. At the sight of you enthusiastically swiveling your hips to the beat of the song with a smile on your face, Yoori beams.

The night unfolds like that. You manage to throw away your inhibitions in favor of dancing for hours. Yoori takes a couple videos of you when the right song comes on and puts you into a sexy musical trance. You take turns shooing random guys away who thinking they can casually fist pump their way into your sacred space. A few girls much drunker than you wander over to you and you welcome them with open arms and dance with them for a few songs, but they always float away after a while. Not without Yoori inquiring where their friends are and waiting until said friends come to collect them first, though. All in all, it’s more fun than almost all of your game nights combined. The thought makes you guilty for all of .3 seconds before you remember that none of the guys would ever go out dancing unless it was a means to an end of getting laid.

When the clock strikes 1:30—much later than you had originally promised to stay out—you collect your things and let Yoori guide you once more. This time she leads you outside to get a ride back to her place. She lays her pristine white leather jacket on your sweaty shoulders when she sees you shivering from the drastic temperature change that comes with leaving the balmy dance-floor.

“Tonight was so fun,” you drawl on the way over. Your head lolls onto her shoulder and she smooths the stray strands of hair off your forehead.

“It was. I was worried for a minute that you wouldn’t like it.”

“Mmm, me too. Yoori, this was great.”

“You never say my name.” She gets out of the car first before paying the driver and then goes back in to get you, slinging your arm over her slender shoulders.

“I know. Feels weird if I do.”

“I like it.”

“M’kay.”

As soon as the door opens, you race for the bathroom. One of the prices to pay for a good night out is dealing with a wine bladder and a hangover. The peeing, you could handle. The hangover, though, dwells in the back of your mind ominously as you brush your teeth and hastily remove your makeup. You’re pretty sure you haven’t taken all of it off when your face hits the cushion of the couch, but the couch is leather so you don’t care. Yoori, however, does care.

“Oh, no you don’t. Come here,” she grabs at you until she gets a hold and can walk you the remainder of the way to her room.

“I don’t wanna walk.”

“You don’t want to sleep on the couch either.”

“Where we goin’?”

“To bed, silly.”

You nod and let her escort you there. Immediately, you slide your skirt down and scramble to take off your crop top. As you fumble with your sleep shirt, Yoori respectfully turns away to change into her own pajamas, cheeks burning.

The covers feel pleasantly cool under your hands as you wait for her to finish changing. “Which side d’you want?”

“I usually sleep in the middle, actually. But I can sleep on whichever side you don’t pick tonight.”

“I sleep on this side.”

“Okay,” she nods agreeably.

“Tomorrow, do you wanna get Dream—oh wait. You went already. You probably don’t want it a second time. I’ll just go to Starbucks or something on my way back.”

“N-no! I’d love to go tomorrow. I was hoping to try their waffles at some point, anyway.”

“Okay, great. Goodnight, Yoori.”

“Goodnight,” she says quietly after the lights have been turned off.

Emotionally, the following week is fine, but it’s hard on your body.

Your hangover takes over your whole Sunday, leaving you to slightly behind on work Monday. It creates a spiral of catching up on work that has you staying up further and further past your bedtime and unable to be as social as you’d like. Yoori lets you know via Snapchat that she misses you but that Jungkook has taken your spot at your usual study table. The two of them look adorable in the little puppy ear filter Yoori’s put over the short video. You watch with mixed feelings as Yoori blows a kiss and then remembers that Jungkook is there and ushers him into blowing a kiss as well. It’s not nearly as enthusiastic and stiffer than the one Yoori sent you but it still sends your heart into a fluttering tizzy.

Friday couldn’t come soon enough. But as soon as you wake up that morning, you feel jittery and off. All your warm clothes are in the hamper, none of them salvageable for one last wear. And all your motivation has been zapped after the week of constant working you just had. Classes prove to be no better despite the fact that they give you time to get out of your head.

The rest of the day is syrupy, leaving you struggling through it even as you try to go with the flow of the sluggishly passing hours. Normally you aim for productivity, but as soon as your final lecture for the day ends, you find yourself unable to pass time with work. You take a walk through campus and even venture all the way over to the theatre department, on the other side of the common grounds. You try to sit on the frosted benches looking out over the man-made pond students often frequent, but your joggers aren’t prepared for the extreme cold and you realize maybe familiarity, instead of novelty, is what will make the time pass by quicker.

You decide to text Taehyung. His schedule is something that you’ve come to passively memorize after weeks of the information casually floating through past conversations.

You: Im bored

BigBoi: Where r u I’ll pick u up

You: @ Seemond’s pond…

BigBoi: ???

Taehyung arrives not ten minutes later, cheeks flushed with exertion from hustling over. He’s also not at all dressed for the weather, but doesn’t look bothered by it either in his university hoodie and thick knitted scarf. His beaten sneakers crunch loudly on the thin layer of white that’s collected since the last snowfall a few days ago.

“Oh my god, Tae, aren’t you freezing?”

Immediately you approach him and pull the hood laying limply along his shoulder blades over his colored hair. The roots have since started growing in and the color has faded enough to give him more of a coppery rose gold look. It’s a color so many Instagram influencers would have shit themselves over last summer trying to perfect at a professional salon, and here Taehyung stands with it after a bleach-happy accident in his dorm’s communal bathroom sink.

“Not really. I was actually nearby looking for a printer in BPD hall.”

“What for?”

“Financial aid forms,” he sighs. You grimace in sympathy before shirking your oversized black mittens.

“At least put these on if you’re not even going to pretend you checked the weather this morning.”

“What about you?” He gestures to the parts of your bare hands that he can see poking out from the sleeves of your own large puffy jacket.

“I’ll be fine. This has fleece-lined pockets. Meanwhile,” bending over, you peer into the front tummy pocket of his hoodie. “You only have a tootsie roll lining.” You dig your fist into the pocket and pull out the scraps of trash he’d been hiding in there with only mild disgust marring your features. “How do you live like that?”

“Dunno, just do. Maybe it’s because people like you can’t help but throw it out before I get the chance to get sick of it and do it myself.”

“Fair enough.”

“What should we do?”

“I don’t know. I’m cold and I don’t wanna do work.”

“How about a movie marathon?”

“Sure.”

* * *

“This isn’t what I thought you meant when you said movie,” you huff as the black opening credit scene dissolves and a French couple in a black and white colorscape whisper to one another in a moonlit alley.

“You said you didn’t care what we watched.”

“That was under the assumption that I would be able to understand it. There’s not even subtitles.”

“You don’t need them.”

“Yes, I do, because I don’t speak French. And neither do you.”

“That doesn’t really matter. You can read their body language and get all you need to from that.”

You try to fix your stare on the couple who is now running from the police with a pair of bloodied knives in their hands and smiles on their faces.

“This isn’t a horror movie, is it?”

“No,” he trails off suspiciously. When you whip your head to the side to glare at him, he cracks. “What? It’s not! It’s a thriller.”

“Anything that could give me nightmares is a horror movie, Taehyung.”

“It’s not even that scary,” he says right at the moment when the couple is seen carving into a police man’s face with the previously shown knives.

The cinematic effects are gross but clearly dated and if you were a reasonable person, you would find it laughable. But instead the dyed corn syrup dripping off the actor’s face just makes your stomach clench and you grab onto Taehyung’s arm out of disgust and anger.

“Why would you put me through this?”

“To get your mind off of Jungkook,” he says matter-of-factly.

Your mouth drops open when you realize partly that he’s right and partly you haven’t had a single moping thought about Jungkook and Yoori in the near hour it took to pick up snacks from the convenience store and walk over to Taehyung’s place from the pond while avoiding ice patches. It’s honestly a brilliant plan, but you hate him for it at the same time.

“You’re a dick.” You punctuate the statement with a sharp punch to the meat of his shoulder and revel in the bashful look he gives you while rubbing at the spot. “But thank you. If you wanted to get my mind off it, you didn’t have to use horror to do it.”

“True, but my options were limited since, one, I don’t have cable, and two, I don’t want to watch reality tv.”

“We could make fun of shitty rom-coms. That’s a good compromise.”

And that is how you end up watching a slightly watered down knock off of Fifty Shades with the TV remote in hand, rewinding, so you can point out where you can see the camera person’s reflection in the female lead’s pendant necklace.

“That’s a huge oversight. I can’t believe these people walk around like they’ve dedicated their lives to a certain level of craft only to do this”

“I mean, the fact that they used Papyrus font in their online movie poster should have clued you in,” you snort.

Both of you watch as the male lead swims up to his co-star where she stands at the foot of the pool he’s in. The grin he flashes her is blindingly white and his teeth resemble pearls in an unattractively artificial way.

“Why do people think veneers like that look good,” you sigh and shift so you can reach over and play with the faded pink strands of Taehyung’s hair. He leans in unconsciously and shrugs.

“I don’t know. Maybe they think people won’t be able to tell the difference.”

“I suppose that’s fair. But with everything being filmed in high definition these days, there’s less wiggle room for that sort of thing.”

Male lead reaches for the slender ankle of his co-star and tugs her into the pool, soaking her dainty white eyelet dress. When she comes up for air, she pouts for a second before swiping at him and missing. She nearly falls face first back into the water but he reaches out with a condescending laugh and catches her with ease despite what physics would predict to be possible. The moment turns serious quickly as the pair stare into each other’s eyes. You don’t understand how she’s supposed to be the homely girl next door when she’s got what you know are the most expensive mink lash extensions on the market and the most symmetrical, albeit oddly familiar, face you’ve ever seen.

“Wow,” Taehyung scoffs as the actor pulls her in for a heated kiss. “They really think that’s what buildup looks like. It’s fifteen minutes in and we still don’t know his name. And didn’t they just meet for the first time the day before this?”

“Keep up, Tae. Don’t you know all women want in life is to get rawed in the pool of the mystery guy who cut them off in the supermarket 24 hours prior?”

“Ah. That must be why my sex life is so grim.”

“Look at that,” you gesture to the couple that is now stumbling out of the pool and into the man’s perfectly lit mansion in a race to get to the bedroom. “That could be you if you had decided to take your dad’s car this year and cut some random girl off in the parking lot of the Price Chopper.”

“Damn. Would I have his mansion too?” You nod gravely.

“Probably.” You finish plaiting the hair of his sideburns and leave him with a little inflexible pink braid poking out from his temple.

“How’s it look?” He gestures to the side of his head with your handiwork on it.

“You look really great. You might not even need to break the rules of parking etiquette to snag a hot date.”

You both return your attention to the TV only to find the movie couple in a fairly compromising position. The lead actress is bent over the arm of a sofa as the camera ‘artistically’ captures the rapid way the actor drills into her from behind. It catches both of you off guard and a nervous laugh bubbles its way out of you.

“This is ridiculous.” Taehyung rolls his eyes and turns to laugh at the display with you.

“Yeah,” you say half-heartedly.

Even though the movie is horribly done and nothing in its execution per se turns you on, it is Friday. And your body has gotten pretty used to your weekend schedule. Which, up until recently, would have meant that at this hour Taehyung and Hoseok would be out somewhere looking for a place to vape while you helped Jungkook out of his pants at his apartment.

But that’s not what’s happening right now because Jungkook is probably on his way in a rental car to pick Yoori up for their third official date. To the movies. Still, that doesn’t stop your body from revving up more than it should after watching such a stupid romance movie. If you close your eyes, you’re sure you could remember with scary accuracy the feel of Jungkook’s hands on you.

“Hey.” At your awkward silence, Taehyung’s voice lowers and he leans in to tease you, “You’re not actually enjoying this, are you?”

“N-no, of course not.”

He lets out an incredulous laugh. “Holy crap, you are. You’re into this.”

“No, I’m not! Stop!”

“This is hilarious. I can’t believe you like this.” He stares at the screen with a baffled smile on his face, trying to see what could be so appealing about the affected look of arousal on the male lead’s face as he bites his lip with zero finesse. “Is it him?”

“It’s not him,” you scrabble for an answer, “I-it’s the actress.” At that his eyes widen and he looks at you like he’s seeing you for the first time. “I mean, I recognize her from a porno, that’s all.”

“No way,” he says before studying the woman’s face. When the actor pulls tightly on her ponytail and forces a whining moan out of her, his eyes light up with recognition. “Wait, yeah, you’re right.”

“Told you.”

“Hold on. You watch porn?” You roll your eyes.

“Yeah, I watch porn. Sometimes I need some visual stimuli too. And she’s been in a few of them.”

“Hmm,” he says finally, “Never would have thought you’d like her stuff.”

“You say that like you’ve thought about what I’d watch.”

“Well, you’re just so—“

A sharp sound comes from near the front door as Hoseok barges in hurriedly, nearly falling and spilling the grocery bags in his hands. He places them on the small table outside the entrance to the tiny kitchenette.

“Tae, I tried calling you like 5 different times about getting the door. Why didn’t you pick up your...phone,” Hoseok trails off as he takes in the fact that you’re in Taehyung’s apartment, very early to the Friday game night, seated very close to Taehyung with a flaming cheeks on the couch while what looks like soft-core porn plays in the background.

“My phone must have died from the cold. Bro, I’m really sor—“

“What the hell are you two doing,” he sneers.

“We were just watching a movie,” you pipe in when you sense a weird shift in the mood.

Obviously, you’re closer to Jungkook than you are to Taehyung or Hoseok, but you really don’t understand the strange energy in the room. Hoseok looks angrier than he should about Taehyung not helping him with carrying some snacks and Taehyung looks overly imploring. Perhaps this is just how they are when they’re annoyed, but it still strikes you as odd even from a slightly distant perspective. When no one says anything you get up slowly, like you would around wild animals in a territory death match, and move towards Hoseok to help him with the food.

“Here, I’ll help you put these away,” you say quietly with a soft hand on his back to get him to break his cold glare. “Don’t be mad at Tae, he didn’t do anything.”

The glare is only slightly softened as he turns to you, jaw clenched. “Well, what about you?”

“What are you talking about?”

The genuine confusion on your face seems to dissolve whatever’s left of the sudden rage that filled him, and he breaks down and lets you take the bags he’s still holding from him. While your back is turned, Hoseok looks suspiciously over at Taehyung, who is still staring back with large, nervous eyes.

“Sorry,” he says sheepishly when you finish unpacking the first bag of chips and come over to him to take the next one.

“Whatever,” you huff good-naturedly. “As long as you leave me out of your little lovers’ quarrel, I’m fine. Go make up, I’ll finish with these.”

You watch Hoseok amble over to Taehyung and begin whispering frantically before they finally come to some sort of agreement and hug it out.

When you come back to the couch, Hoseok has taken your spot next to Taehyung and has man-spread all over the rest of the free space. Even the back of the couch is claimed by his outstretched arms. Both of them stop their whispered conversation and turn to see why you’re hovering.

“What’s up,” Hoseok inquires suspiciously.

“Are we gonna do anything tonight? I could be in bed right now, but instead I’m here.”

“We have to pick the game first. My vote is for poker.”

“No poker. You still owe me like 80 bucks from last time you thought you could bluff,” Taehyung crosses his arms in a huff.

“That’s in the past, I’m a new man now. This Hoseok doesn’t owe you anything.”

“You’re an ass.” Taehyung springs to the side and quickly locks Hoseok in a sloppy headlock.

You watch them struggle on the couch in mild interest until Taehyung loses his footing and Hoseok’s wiggling underneath him pitches them both onto the floor. Someone’s head hits the coffee table on the way down, and you wince in sympathy, but they carry on like nothing happened.

The idea of letting them tire themselves out seems appealing at first but when Hoseok sinks his teeth into Taehyung’s hoodie-clad bicep and draws out a yelp, you intervene as neutrally as possible.

“Why don’t we just start with Gin Rummy?”

“Okay.” Hoseok drops Taehyung’s arm from his mouth, suddenly content.

You give him a wide berth and wait until after he goes into the kitchen to hunt for a deck of cards to offer Taehyung a helping hand up off the ground. He doesn’t make eye contact with you as you make your way over to the table, so you can’t silently grill him.

“How many is it? 5 per person,” Hoseok asks while shuffling the cards.

Small Styrofoam bowls are neatly laid out across the center of the table, each one filled with the chips from earlier. You perch in the chair next to Hoseok so you’re close to the Cheetos.

“It’s 7, I think.”

“Cool,” is all he says before handing you your cards.

You go around the table for a few rounds, placing cards down that you don’t need, picking up cards that you do and the occasional chip. Halfway through the first round, Taehyung gets up to turn off the fluorescents and turn on the fairy lights Hoseok won’t stop teasing him for having. You sync your phone up to his speaker and play music in the background and revel in the fact that you’re getting back into the swing of having fun with them. Without Jungkook.

“You still got beer, right?” Hoseok doesn’t look up from his cards since he’s very close to winning the round and he needs only 1 more card.

“Yeah,” you say, slapping down another card. “We picked some up at the convenience store. I’ll go get a pack for the table.”

“Thanks. I think I’m gonna call out for food too. What do you guys want?”

“I want pancakes,” Taehyung smiles brightly at the prospect of something other than the sad deli meats in his fridge.

Opening the door to his fridge leaves you confused. “You have stuff for pancakes.”

“Yeah, but I have to cook it,” he pouts at you through the window in the kitchen wall.

“It’s your turn,” Hosoek informs you.

You load up with supplies for making pancakes and head over to the table to distribute the ingredients amongst yourselves. Taehyung cracks eggs when it’s not his turn, Hoseok levels out the dry ingredients. You’re pouring milk into a bowl when one of your favorite songs from high school starts blaring through the speakers.

“Oh shit! Do you guys remember when this came out?”

“They played it at my homecoming dance,” Hoseok grimaces at the memory while you gyrate and mix the ingredients in a large bowl. “And then they played it on the radio for, like, 3 months straight afterwards. It was fucking annoying.”

“Yeah, but it’s been so long now. It’s good again. Come on, get up.” You pass Taehyung the bowl and creep towards Hoseok.

“What are you doing?” He smiles up at you like you’re crazy. You lace your fingers together and pull him out of his chair.

“What does it look like? I’m making you dance with me.”

“But you can’t dance, though.”

“Don’t ruin the fun,” you whine.

At first he doesn’t dance with you. He just continues to stand and lets you mouth the words at him and occasionally wave your hands in his face or pinch his cheeks when the lyrics get good. He even lets you bump hips with him and pretend to grind on him from behind.

Despite himself, your good mood is infectious and when you scamper back in front of him for the chorus, he surprises you by taking you into waltz position. It doesn’t fit the song, but it’s funny because you end up doing a bouncy-looking two step that resembles a sped-up prom dance. Taehyung hoots supportively from where he stands in the kitchen, melting butter on the stove.

Hoseok bends you over into a theatrical dip, causing you to let out a shrieking laugh and clutch at him so he doesn’t drop you. The song ends, but he jokingly holds the pose until your thighs are burning and you’re yelling for him to pull you back up. The front door clicks open while you bicker lightly.

“Look who decided to show up,” Hoseok drawls and finally brings you back up slowly, so you don’t get a head rush.

You blink away the stars that were starting to form in the corners of your eyes and realize Jungkook is, in fact, back from his date. At 9:43, no less. With Yoori in tow.

In your opinion, it’s much too early for someone to be back from date night with the long-time love of their life, but you can’t bring yourself to say anything. Instead you fiddle with the hem of your sweater nervously. Something about Yoori and Jungkook being present in the same room makes you a bit anxious. Perhaps its because it makes your policy about stopping your weekly rendezvous until things get physically serious between the two of them seem very flimsy.

Yoori and Jungkook are both clearly tipsy. You can tell from the way Jungkook hangs himself off her petite frame like he’s looking for support. You roll your eyes and go over to wrestle him from her and waddle him over to the dining room table where he can sit.

“How was your date,” you turn to Yoori who is hovering behind you with sleepy eyes.

“It was alright. The movie was a little boring,” she stage-whispers into your ear. “Don’t tell Kook.”

“You didn’t like the movie?” His head lolls back so he can look up at Yoori with doe eyes. Disappointment makes them look extra round and shiny.

She raises her brows guiltily. “I thought the new superhero movie would have been more your speed. I didn’t mind the idea of seeing it. I like action films.”

“Oh.”

You scamper out of the dining area as fast as you can to join Hoseok and Taehyung in the kitchen. The awkward couple moment they’re having isn’t something you think you should be privy to anyway.

Taehyung chuckles at the mortified expression on your face while Hoseok’s considers you stoically.

“Are they being too mushy in there?”

“No, not really.” You sigh. “It’s just weird realizing that I’ve never really been around them when they’re together. I don’t like the idea that I can’t get a read on the situation when they’re both good friends, you know?”

Hoseok snorts dryly. “Well, you know what they say. Dating changes people.”

“Yeah, but this is Kook we’re talking about,” Taehyung murmurs while stirring the hidden flour patches at the bottom of the bowl back into the batter. “Do you really think he’s changed that much?”

You shrug. “I don’t know.”

“Maybe you’ve changed,” Hoseok suggests.

And maybe you have. Not in the normal way, where you outgrow people. But maybe something about you has changed since you started being intimate with Jungkook in such a way where you can’t be just his gaming buddy or his companionable silence partner. Gone are the days where you could push down your infatuation long enough to sit pressed close to each other on the couch when the Iron Man movie series is marathoning on TV. You’re not sure if that’s made things easier or harder on you. Perhaps its been a little bit of both.

“What are you guys up to?”

Jungkook has managed to amble over to the kitchen while staying upright thanks to Yoori’s guiding hands. Now he’s peering into the entrance of the kitchen after the way you, Taehyung, and Hoseok whispering to one another piqued his interest. Yoori lays on the sofa, recovering from too many glasses of complimentary movie chardonnay.

You keep your head down and pretend watching Taehyung ladle batter onto the griddle is fascinating enough not to reply. Thoughts of whether or not something crucial has shifted occupy your mind too much for you to speak.

“Just playing cards and making pancakes,” Taehyung shouts over the crackling sound of the first pancake hitting the hot skillet.

“The usual,” Hoseok jokes before pitching his voice into a slyer register. “How was the date?”

“It was fine,” Jungkook answers shyly, eyes glued to your silent form. The button down he’s wearing suddenly feels too tight and he undoes the top button to give himself some air. “How was your night?”

“Here, I’ll take over,” you mumble.

You take the spatula from Taehyung’s hand and motion for the guys to leave the kitchen while you flip the pancakes. It’ll give you something to do, and Taehyung’s thoughtful enough to go without asking questions. They don’t move far and instead Hosoek and Taehyung crowd Jungkook just outside the kitchen doorframe. Hopefully none of them notice how you turn the heat down so you can listen better. A masochistic part of you is curious to know how the date went even if you’re not sure if you can face him without combusting.

“Come on, tell us what happened. It’s just us guys,” Hoseok hisses before remembering that you’re you and you’re probably listening. Suddenly he feels like a douche. “We’re all friends,” he corrects himself. Jungkook, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to be aware of your eavesdropping and complies.

“I…what do you wanna know?”

“Where’d you go?”

“To the movies. To see Cloud Break.”

Taehyung whistles lowly. “That’s supposed to be the number one date movie of the year.”

“It was very romantic,” Jungkook cracks a small, shy smile. “But I don’t think she really liked it.”

“Stil. Sounds like our boy is a real Casanova, huh?” Hoseok pats him roughly on the back with a wide grin. “The movies, though. Did you make it to third base?”

“Jeez, don’t sound so excited when you ask that,” Taehyung says with a cringe.

“What? I just wanna know if he’s any closer to swiping that V card. So,” Hoseok turns to stare, “Did you?”

“We’re taking it slow,” is all Jungkook says, eyes shifting behind the guys, towards you.

“Pancakes are ready,” you call from the kitchen. You figure it’s safe for you go back out, so you load a plate up with a tall stack and turn the stove off. Yoori’s head pops up at the sound of fresh food and hops up to come join you.

After you put the plate down, you wait until everyone is seated. Oddly enough, Jungkook and Yoori both sit on either side of the head of the table, leaving you to sit in between them.

“Thanks for cooking,” Jungkook mutters as soon as you sit down.

“No need to thank me. I’m just doing my part to have a fun Friday,” you answer awkwardly.

“These look better than the ones at Dreamies,” Yoori beams over at you. She cuts her pancakes happily before shoving a large, syrup-laden bite in her mouth. She gives you a cute thumbs up that breaks your serious mood for a moment.

You give her a warm squeeze on the shoulder. “Thanks for the high praise.”

“So, uh, what else have you guys been doing,” Jungkook inquires politely.

“Well,” Hoseok mentions nonchalantly through a full mouth, gesturing towards you. “I caught these two watching porn earlier when I came in with groceries. And this one couldn’t keep her hands off me after that.”

“Oh.” Jungkook’s cheeks start to heat as he looks between you and Hoseok and then you and Taehyung.

You almost choke on your own food as Hoseok’s words register. “That is so inaccurate. How are you so comfortable lying like that?”

“Is it not the truth? Kook, you even saw her when you came in. Seems like she’s a real minx when she gets going. Who knew all it took was Fifty Shades.”

Taehyung tries to come to your rescue. “We weren’t even watching Fifty Shades—”

“So, it was actual porn,” Hoseok’s eyes narrow at him suspiciously.

“Oh my god,” you raise your hands in surrender and then push your plate back. “I can’t do this. I’m freezing and you’re annoying. Tae, I’m stealing some clothes. Yoori, you look cold. I’ll bring you something too.” You storm out of the dining room and make a beeline for Taehyung’s room.

While you were used to Hoseok’s ribbing, today you were extra sensitive to it and you needed some air. But you are actually cold, so you do spend a few minutes rummaging through Taehyung’s immaculate wardrobe until you find a sweater that has you smiling widely at the memories it evokes.

“I can’t believe you still have this,” you remark with arms out to showcase the sweater when you come back. The four of them all turn to see the sweater you’re wearing.

It’s a run-of-the-mill sweater until you look at the picture that’s been screen-printed onto the front. It’s a picture of you and Taehyung in your freshman year that was taken minutes after the annual Mud Run. It had been a split-second decision the two of you made after a terrible set of midterms, but the smiles on both of your slightly rounder and muddied faces don’t indicate any inkling of regret. You give Yoori the only cashmere you could find that wasn’t on the floor.

“Of course he still has it,” Hoseok smiles proudly, “I put my blood, sweat, and tears into making it. And I was there to take the fricking picture at the end of the race at 9 am on a Saturday. Do you not still have yours?”

“Sadly no. I lost mine when I moved into the sophomore dorms.”

“I wish I had been there to watch the race. I should have stayed on campus,” Jungkook chimes in, cheeks full of pancake.

“Yeah,” Hoseok counters, “But if you had stayed, you wouldn’t have ever gotten Yoori’s number in the first place. So, it all worked out in the end, right?”

Suddenly, you’re not hungry and the lively mood that the night started with has disappeared. Taehyung must sense the subtle downward shift in your shoulders and runs to get the bottle of wine Hoseok bought for you that’s been chilling in the fridge.

“Why don’t we play another game,” he suggests once he’s back at the table and filling your glass.

Yoori perks up. “That’s a great idea! Let’s play something old-school. Do you have any board games?”

“I don’t think either of us has played a board game since before 2010. Much less owned one,” Jungkook winces.

“Really? Well, it doesn’t have to be a board game. Why don’t we do another old-fashioned one. Like Charades.”

Hoseok places his head in his hands elegantly, face the picture of innocence. But you know better.

“Yoori, how do you feel about Truth or Dare?” You squeeze your eyes shut and hope she says she’s never heard of it. Or that she hates it.

“I love Truth or Dare! Let’s play once everyone’s done eating.”

You curse under your breath, but return her excited smile when she turns to you and fills your cup once more. As a safety precaution, you finish the single pancake you’d served yourself earlier before taking another sip. Its not that you’re hungry, but you’d rather not be drinking on a completely empty stomach.

When everyone has had their fill of food, new bottles of booze get taken with you to the living room. There, you all rearrange the couch and the various upholstered chairs that Taehyung has collected until everyone is seated comfortably. Taehyung sits down last because he was in his room searching for his trusted 20 sided die.

“Okay, who’s who?”

“I call 3’s,” Hoseok calls with a hand raised straight in the air.

“No way,” you huff, “You’ll have way too many chances to be It. Pick multiples of at least four or I’m banning you from playing.”

“You can’t ban me from playing. Tae, can she ban me from playing?”

“I’m gonna go ahead and say yeah,” Taehyung says casually. You smile at Hosoek smugly.

“Fine. I pick 5’s.”

“I’ll take 3’s,” Yoori says once she understands the rules you all are operating under. No one goes to argue against her.

“I call even primes,” you say. You’re really not interested in playing this game.

Hoseok rolls his eyes at you. “Why even play if you’re gonna be like that?”

“You’re both wrong,” Taehyun grins. “Odd primes is where it’s at.”

“I guess I’ll take leftovers,” Jungkook sighs. He’s equally unenthused to be playing, but mainly because every previous time he’s played the game, Taehyung has dared him to smack Hoseok’s ass as hard as possible. It never ends well. “What is that? 3, 4, 5, 8 and what else?”

“14 through 16,” you supply automatically.

“Wow,” Yoori coos and latches onto your arm. “You’re so smart.”

“Alright! If everyone has a number, let’s play,” Hoseok shouts.

In the first few rolls, Taehyung and Yoori get the majority of the turns. Yoori is kind and sticks with truths for the most part, forcing Taehyung to bring up the strawberry shaped birthmark on his ass and Jungkook to talk about how he still doesn’t know how to ride a bike. Things pick up a bit when Hoseok manages a roll and Taehyung makes the mistake of choosing Dare. In response, Hoseok tells Taehyung to pull down his pants and show everyone the birthmark. You and Yoori exchange wide glances and giggle quietly as Taehyung downs the rest of his drink for some liquid courage.

“Taehyung,” Yoori giggles behind your hand as you attempt to cover her eyes. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t feel comfortable.”

“I don’t think I have much of a choice,” he grumbles before turning to face away from the group. He tugs his pants and boxers down a few inches before the pert curve of his butt. There, just south of the equator on the globe of his ass lies a very strawberry-shaped birthmark.

Immediately, Yoori chokes on her drink trying, and failing, to stifle her laughter at the pure ridiculousness of the mark. Meanwhile, you aren’t doing much better.

You pull your lip between your teeth as you hold back the cackle you desperately wish to let out. Instead, you opt for reaching out and pinching at the nearest cheek. The way he jumps slightly out of your reach while cupping his junk and glaring weakly at you sends you over the edge.

“Not bad,” Yoori snorts out between giggles.

“Yeah, wait a minute.” You gasp. “You have a cute little ass, Tae. I thought you said you didn’t have time for the gym.”

Taehyung’s face flushes, but he still smiles a self-depricating smile as he pulls up his pants finally. “I don’t. This baby is 100% homegrown.”

“I see. Must be all the tater tots,” you say with tears nearly rolling down your cheeks.

“And all the La-Z boy sitting.”

“Nice.”

Jungkook huffs audibly. He crosses his arms as he watches the game unfold, suddenly infinitely less interested in playing than he was a few minutes ago. “This is stupid.”

“Are you not having fun?”

He turns to Yoori quickly while remembering that he’s seated next to her. His own cheeks color with a bit of shame that he’d been caught being petulant.

“It’s not that. I mean…I just thought this would be a bit more mature.”

Yoori cocks her head to the side to appraise him and takes a sip of wine. “Is Truth or Dare known for its sophisticated gameplay?” A reserved and unreadable smile tugs at the corner of her lips.

“Not really,” he stammers. “I just figured you wouldn’t be interested in immature stuff like this.”

“Hmm. I’m actually having quite a lot of fun. Don’t worry about me and loosen up.”

Jungkook swallows roughly and mentally chides himself for being weird. Even he’s not sure where the pouting spell came from. Regardless, he smothers down the party pooper vibes and tries to enjoy the game as best he can.

Taehyung rolls a 10 and pouts at not be able to get back at Yoori. After all the laughter and the handful of swipes she’d made at his birthmark, he’s eager to pay her back somehow. But all he can do is turn to Hoseok with a bored expression.

“Truth or dare?”

“Dare. Do you worst!” Hoseok sits excitedly at the edge of his seat while waiting for Taehyung to come up with a juicy truth or dare.

“Uh, I don’t know, bro. I dare you to do, like, 30 pushups or something.”

“That’s such a shitty dare.”

“I couldn’t think of anything. I was hoping Yoori would roll so I could give her a taste of her own medicine,” he says while locking eyes with Yoori. The two engage in a semi-serious staring competition for a while before they break into laughter.

“This is bullshit,” Hoseok mumbles as he rises from his chair and gets into position to do the pushups.

The room is quiet while everyone waits for him to finish. Sound of his exertion floats over from his section of the circle and you swipe through your twitter feed in the meantime. But you become so engrossed in a recipe for spinach dip that you don’t realize Hoseok has rolled a 2 and is calling out to you.

“What,” you say, distracted by the amount of leafy greens going into the dip.

“Put your phone away,” Hoseok whines, “It’s game night rules.”

You don’t look up from your screen. “Doesn’t count when we’re not playing video games.”

“You suck.”

“So do you.”

“Truth or dare.”

“Dare,” you say on autopilot before realizing the mistake you’ve made.

You let your phone clatter to the ground and prepare to take back what you said, but you can see that its too late from the smirk Hoseok is wearing. It’s the worst kind, too. The smarmy one that lets you know he’s thinking about doing something greasy. You’re willing to bet all the money left in your student account balance that he’s going to dare you to show him your boobs.

“Dare you to kiss Yoori,” he says smugly, like he’s got you cornered.

You’re only slightly surprised and let out a breath of relief. The idea that he might dare you to shed your layers to sit in Taehyung’s freezing living room in just your bra and bottoms was really worrying you.

“Really, Hoseok? What are we, 13?”

Taehyung chimes in with concern. “Yeah. They might not be comfortable with that.”

“I’m fine with it,” Yoori perks up slightly in her seat.

“Okay,” Taehyung hesitates, “But Jungkook—”

“Might not approve of it? Why don’t we ask him,” she supplies before turning to Jungkook. “Kook, what do you think?”

“Well, I—”

“Why the hell would he care,” Hoseok cuts him off. “Dude, you don’t care, right? It’s harmless and its 2018.”

“Y-yeah, I guess.” He pushes his glasses up with his ring finger, a nervous tick you’re familiar with. Your first instinct is to go over and see what’s wrong, but you quell the urge.

“Holy shit,” Hoseok mumbles to himself when he realizes this is really happening. You get up to join Yoori in the love seat she’s occupying. Before you can change your minds he speaks up. “No pecks. It has to be real.”

“Figured as much,” you roll your eyes and gesture for Yoori to scooch closer to you. She sends you a smile that’s hidden from the others by the shiny curtain of her hair. You mirror it back automatically.

“For 60 seconds,” Hoseok shouts. Yoori’s eyes widen at the time condition but she doesn’t say anything.

“That’s too much.”

“30 seconds, but you have to use tongue.”

“Hoseok!” You and Taehyung yell simultaneously.

“Fine,” he says before thinking for a beat. “45 seconds but no lame stuff. Final offer.”

You check in with Yoori to see if she objects, but she merely rests her cheek on your shoulder and gives you a thumbs up.

“Deal, you damn pervert.”

Hoseok scrambles to get his phone timer launched while you and Yoori arrange yourselves accordingly once and then a second time when Hoseok says he can’t see. You whisper an apology on his behalf, but Yoori waves it off and pulls you in with a gentle hand resting at the base of your neck. You can’t help but notice that even from a few inches away, her skin is flawless. Its almost unfair.

“Alright. Start.”

Yoori swoops in and immediately parts your lips with her own. They’re soft and taste like the moscato she’s been drinking, and it’s honestly a very tantalizing sensory experience. You let her take over, let her press you closer until her nose brushes your cheek and she sucks your lip into her mouth. It takes you by surprise and when you gasp softly, she teases the border of your lips with her tongue ever so lightly. You let out an appreciative hum, surprising yourself. She smiles, nearly breaking the kiss, before nipping at you once. Tentatively, you brush your tongue against hers. She surges forward and works over your mouth until the soft chiming of Hoseok’s alarm alerts you that the dare has been completed.

You pull away first with hot cheeks and a slightly swollen mouth. Yoori looks pleased with herself as she looks over your flustered state. Neither of you see any of the guys’ shocked, wistful expressions. Yoori moves to smooth down the flyaways she created when she pressed you into the seat’s upholstery.

“You kiss just like Jungkook,” she laughs before pulling away slightly. The others murmur in the background as they strain to listen in.

“Wait, what?” Her words are slow to register at first. “You guys have kissed?”

“Yeah. Loads of times,” she snickers, “On the way to the restaurant, in the parking lot of Dreamies, in the back of his car. My apartment. We’ve even—” She takes in the mortified look on your face and grimaces. “Oh gosh, I’m sorry. I know you don’t like to hear about this stuff. I’ll stop.”

You make mental note of all the occasions she’s mentioned. One of which was their first date. But just yesterday Jungkook had told you that they hadn’t even started holding hands as a couple. And while he hadn’t made a comment about anything else, the implication behind the statement was that they definitely hadn’t done anything more than that. Something about his more daring behavior struck you as unusual. But if he’d been getting other practice elsewhere, it wouldn’t be odd at all.

He had lied to you. And you wonder what else he’d been lying about.

When you turn around to face Jungkook, he looks pale and scared. You’ve only ever seen him look like that a handful of times and it was when he was in deep shit and it was his own fault. During those times, you’d somehow managed to show him why he was wrong while also making him feel supported. This time, though, there was no way you could do that. Not without throwing away what little dignity you have left from getting into this heinous arrangement in the first place.

Taehyung, Yoori, and Hoseok look on silently as you and Jungkook exchange the long look. Jungkook’s chest rises and falls rapidly as adrenaline runs through his system. When you stand up, he stands up at the same time, a hand instinctively reaching out.

You ignore him in favor of grabbing your things without a word and pulling up the bus schedule app on your phone. You’re not going to force yourself to wait around for an uber to pick you up, but you’re also not going to subject yourself to further torture by walking home in the middle of winter. Once you see that the next bus is coming in 20 minutes, you put on your jacket.

“I’m heading out. I’ll see you guys around.” You wince as your voice cracks a little bit, but don’t bother lingering to see if people noticed. You hurry out with the hopes that you can find a place to hide and wait for the bus before Jungkook can follow you out. He calls your name, softly at first, but you don’t acknowledge him.

But you don’t get any further than a few meters away down Taehyung’s hallway before Jungkook’s catching up after having sprinted out after you.

“Jungkook, stop,” is all you can trust yourself to say as you stare at your shoes.

“I can explain.”

“Fine.” You look up at him, gaze sharp. “Explain.”

He seems taken aback like he didn’t think you’d let him speak. His demeanor turns sheepish. “I didn’t mean to lie to you. It just...happened.”

“Do you think I’m stupid enough to believe that? You made a choice, Jungkook. It didn’t just happen. I want to know why you chose to lie.”

“I just…wasn’t ready for the weekends to stop.”

“Look, I get it. You got used to getting your rocks off. But we had a deal. It shouldn’t have mattered that you didn’t want it to end. As soon as you and Yoori got physical, we were supposed to go back to normal.”

“That’s not why I decided to lie,” he hisses.

“Then why did you?”

“Because!”

“Because?” You scoff. “That’s not an answer.”

“Because I,” he stammers, not sure of what to to say. “I didn’t feel comfortable detailing mine and Yoori’s intimacy to you.”

“You didn’t feel comfortable?” Your voice is carefully low, but raises as you continue. “You didn’t feel comfortable telling me, the girl who has been your best friend since we were kids, about you and your new girlfriend? The girl who you had spit into your palm yesterday so you could jerk off in her bed yesterday? You didn’t feel fucking uncomfortable then, Jungkook!”

“Well, you’re always talking about my comfort. Shouldn’t it matter when I’m uncomfortable? Even if its at a weird time?”

“Fine. Let’s say you were uncomfortable. You still should have told me.”

“Why is it your business?”

Your jaw drops open. “Maybe because yours and Yoori’s relationship is the reason this whole thing started? And maybe because if you’re going to be running between the two of us and swapping bodily fluids, I should know? For my own fucking health?”

He stammers when he realizes that reason never came to mind once. Its a losing argument, he knows. As a last ditch effort, he turns things around.

“Is that the only reason why you’re mad? Because you think I would have given you an STD?”

“Are you serious,” your voice cracks again as tears take hold of you. “You think that’s all I care about?”

“You haven’t made any other points,” Jungkook sniffs like he’s indifferent to your shimmering eyes. “What else am I supposed to think? Is there something else?”

“I can’t believe someone so smart can be so stupid. You really don’t get it? I can’t keep sneaking around with you like this because you’re dating a girl who’s my friend now. But even if she weren’t, I can’t keep doing this because I have feelings—”

The front door opens and Hoseok slides through and closes it softly. He takes in your bowed shoulders, watery eyes, and shaking hands before pinning Jungkook with a glare that’s so potent he steps back a bit.

“You okay,” he nods his chin at you subtly.

“Y-yeah, Hobi. I’m fine. Me and Kook were just talking.”

“Just talking, huh?”

“Hoseok,” Jungkook grits through clenched teeth, anxious for you to continue what you were about to say. “Go back inside. This doesn’t concern you.”

“Oh, I think it does. I mean, she’s my friend and you’ve been screwing her over figuratively and literally for the past month now, haven’t you?”

Your eyes widen and tears of embarrassment slip over your waterline. “You knew?”

“Of fucking course, I knew. You were walking around like you were suddenly getting laid and Kook was showing up to TA sessions with hickies on his neck the week after we made a joke about you taking his V card off his hands. All at the same time that you magically have to start staying over after game night at his place for tutoring,” he spits the word out. “You’re the smartest girl I know. There’s no way you actually have that much to learn from Kook of all people.”

“Oh, come on,” Jungkook drawls and steps in between you and Hosoek. “Don’t pretend to care about her now.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“You’re always picking fights with her. You don’t care what’s going here, you’re just trying to feed the flames.”

“Kook, stop,” you rasp from behind him, but he ignores you and shoves a hand into the center of Hoseok’s chest.

“Say more,” Hoseok smiles darkly, egging him on. The two of them stand inches apart, each one poised to attack the other at a moment’s notice.

“You’ve been itching to see things fall apart for me because you can’t handle being the oldest and the least accomplished in the group.” You try not to gasp but it’s hard because you’ve never heard him say something so nasty to anyone, let alone to someone you would both call a friend. “You’re just mad that your…your indifferent stoner, beta cool guy act hasn’t paid off and you’re still alone with your hand on the weekends. I can tell when someone wants what I have. You’re like every other stupid bully from high school, but with none of the popularity.”

Your mouth drops open, but you can’t find any words to stop the situation from escalating any further. Jungkook smirks at his silence. But Hoseok merely raises a casual eyebrow before turning to look down at you from over Jungkook’s shoulder.

“If you wanted sex that badly, you could have just come to me, you know. Offer still stands now, too.”

Before you can counter anything either of them has said, Jungkook’s fist collides with Hoseok’s jaw. The sound resonates in the empty hallway with a loud crunching sound followed by Hoseok tumbling to the floor and Jungkook yowling in pain at his damaged knuckles. Jungkook automatically turns to you, grimacing and cradling his hand, but you swerve past him to check on Hoseok.

He’s still very much conscious, but the blow took him by surprise and he lost his balance. There’s a little bit of blood when Jungkook’s fist split the skin on the side of Hoseok’s jawline and you can tell already that there will be swelling and bruising. But he should be fine and he doesn’t show any of the signs of concussion that you remember reading about a while ago.

You pull him up by the hand and sling his arm over your shoulder when he stumbles once upright. Together you hobble back into the apartment. Taehyung and Yoori are sitting stiffly at the dining room table when you come in and both rush forward to help you. Jungkook shuffles in after, at a loss for what’s going on.

Wrapping a bag of frozen vegetables from Taehyung’s freezer in a dish towel, you tend to Hoseok’s minor wounds. Taehyung looks tired and frantic as he looks at his friend in pain.

“I don’t get it. What happened out there?”

You hang your head in shame and to avoid both Taehyung and Hoseok’s watchful gazes. Thankfully Hoseok doesn’t say anything, but you’re so embarrassed and disoriented that nothing satisfying comes out.

“They were fighting. And Jungkook punched him.”

“But why would he do that? Hoseok, did you say something?”

“Don’t blame Hobi, he was trying to help me,” you whisper so Yoori can’t hear. You’re not sure you can handle breaking the news to everyone just yet. “Tae, I haven’t been honest with you a while now. Things have been going on between me and Kook and it hasn’t been right. All I can say is that I’m sorry. I know it doesn’t fix anything, but its been eating me up.”

Jungkook watches as Yoori stands off to the side, looking lost and a little out of place as she tries to parse out where the boundaries for her are. She looks between you and him with uncertainty in her eyes before she finally comes over to check in with him first. He waves her off and watches her naturally gravitate towards you.

When Yoori comes asking you what’s happened with worry in her eyes, you look back at Jungkook for a moment before bawling your eyes out in the middle of the kitchen. Yoori envelopes you in a hug immediately, and you let her comfort you despite the fact that you’ve been secretly highjacking her relationship. Sobs wrack your body for a moment before your phone chimes to let you know your bus is coming soon.

You whisper in her ear that you’re sorry and you’ll explain when it’s the right time. You squeeze her soft hands to your cheek and stutter out that you don’t deserve a friend like her, but that you hope you can remedy that sooner rather than later. With that, you whisper a goodbye and head out, giving Jungkook a wide berth.

He turns around just in time for him to catch one last glimpse of you before the door swings shut behind you.

#btssmutclub #bangtan bookclub #networkbangtan #bttnetwork #btswriters #bts smut #bangtan fanfic #bangtan scenarios #bangtan imagines #bts scenarios #bts fanfction #bts imagines #jungkook fanfic #jungkook imagine #jungkook scenarios

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sheliesshattered · 5 years ago

Text

Fic meme

I was tagged by @primarybufferpanel -- thank you darling, this was a ton of fun to do!

This got a bit long, so I’ll put the people I’m tagging here at the top: @claraaoswald, @ambitious-witch, @someillplanetreigns, and @junoinferno, if you feel like playing!

My AO3, my old non-updating fanfiction.net

Fandoms I’ve made fanworks for: Oh lord. I’m only going to count fanfiction that has actually been posted, but if I tried to count up every fandom that I’d started writing for and left unfinished fragments languishing on various harddrives and googledocs over the years, it’d be at least double this list. I have two pseuds on AO3, with the fics roughly organized by fandoms that I post about on this Tumblr account (sheliesshattered) and fandoms that pre-date my time on Tumblr that I don’t post about very much (glasscannon). Putting all the fandoms together in one alphabetized list:

Black Sails - 5 Doctor Who - 8 Firefly/Serenity - 1 Game of Thrones - 1 The Hobbit - 1 The Hunger Games - 1 Iron Man - 2 Law & Order: Criminal Intent - 1 Mad Max - 2 Once Upon A Time - 1 Poldark - 3 Star Wars - 3 Twilight - 7 The West Wing - 1

Number of fics: 38, including a big unfinished epic that I never moved over from ff.n, and don’t plan to unless I finish it someday.

Fics I spent more time on: I’m not even quite sure how to measure this. I’m a slow writer, and a single story can easily hold my attention for years at a time, or be something I return to when there isn’t a newer fandom temporarily consuming me. I don’t tend to keep track of how many hours I put into a fanfic, though. The unfinished epic I mentioned is probably near the top of that list, and was a huge part of my life from 2009 to 2013. Other contenders would be the All Hands series (written with PBP!), and Truth Universally Acknowledged, particularly if you include all the massive world-building that went into that one.

But really probably the one I’ve poured the most hours into, between research and writing, is a Doctor Who epic that hasn’t yet seen the light of day, called Home The Long Way ‘Round. Because I have such a habit of starting long stories and then not finishing them, I’m making myself get that one completely done before I post any of it to AO3, so I don’t have anything to show for it yet, but I’ve put a ton of time into it over the last five years or so. Hopefully someday I’ll actually get to share it. :)

Fics I spent less time on: Like I said, I’m a very slow writer, so any time I can turn out a story in a matter of days I’m just absolutely shocked. I wrote The Message over the course of about 24 hours, which is probably the fastest I’ve ever finished anything in my life ever, lol.

Longest fic: The All Hands series is sitting at 126,800 words, and PBP and I have more finished for it that we’re hoping to post soon-ish. The unfinished epic made it to almost 119,000 words before I ran out of steam. Truth Universally Acknowledged racked up about 54,000 words before my co-writer and I took a break from it, and probably triple that in world-building bibles and timelines, etc. On the works-in-progress side of things, Home The Long Way ‘Round is sitting at about 40,000 words currently and only about a third of the way done, and the For As Long As We Get series is at 21,000 words between what I’ve posted and what I’m still working on, and will definitely continue to grow.

Shortest story: 10 Seconds, at 208 words. Also one of the very first fanfics I ever finished and posted online.

Most hits: Truth Universally Acknowledged, by like a factor of 20 vs anything else I have on AO3. It’s the only time I’ve written for the main pairing in an active fandom (tho my purview in the co-writing was more on the secondary pairing), and that translated to a stupidly large number of hits. Fanfiction.net doesn’t count hits the same way, but the unfinished epic is sitting at about 3500 favs.

Most kudos: Setting The Stuns’ls, the first in the All Hands series -- which is SHOCKING considering that’s a tiny rowboat of a fandom, for a non-canon background pairing that has literally about 30 seconds of shared screentime, and the two romantic leads don’t so much as kiss over the course of 94,000 words (longing looks, significant hand-touches, mutual pining, definitely, but kissing, not so much).

Most bookmarks: Truth Universally Acknowledged, by a long shot.

Fic you want to rewrite or expand: I don’t tend to edit a story once it’s been posted, beyond correcting a typo or adding a missed word. Once it’s published, it’s finished and I don’t change it significantly. I do have quite a few (so, so many) unfinished stories that I would love to finish up at some point.

Total words combined: Counting only published fics, including the unfinished epic (and a companion piece for it) that lives only on ff.n, I’m currently at 376,542 words total.

Fav fic you wrote: How can you make me choose between my children like this, honestly?? Siiiigh. I’m with PBP, whatever I’m working on currently is usually my favorite. I’m having a ton of fun with For As Long As We Get, and can’t wait to publish the next part of that, hopefully sometime this month. I’m incredibly proud of All Hands, and that occupied such a specific time in my life that I’ll always think of it fondly. I’m exceptionally happy with the character voices and use of language in both Breathe Again and Upon This Rock Will I Break Myself, Until It Shows Me Your Beloved Face, and tend to feel like they don’t get enough love vs how much I love them. But my one true favorite is and will always be Home The Long Way ‘Round, and hopefully I’ll actually be able to finish it and post it someday.

Share a bit of your WIP or idea if you have anything planned: Again, how can I possibly choose just one?? Even just within the Doctor Who fandom, I currently have more than half a dozen stories actively in progress. But since I’ve talked it up so much without being able to link to it at all, and just declared it my all-time fav, I’m going to break one of my own rules and post the whole first chapter (eek!) of Home The Long Way ‘Round behind a read more:

Chapter 1: Orange Dreams

The sound of the wind is whispering in your head Can you feel it coming back? Through the warmth, through the cold, keep running ‘til we’re there. We're coming home now, we’re coming home now. —Home, Dotan

The winds shrieked and howled around her. Clara had never been in a tornado, but she imagined it would feel like this to stand in the eye of one. She could see gusts lifting the tops off the sand dunes in shimmering ribbons, gold against the orange sky. The waves of airborne sand dissipated a few feet from her, leaving only a jagged grittiness in the air.

A woman with long blonde hair was yelling at her, her words ripped away by the wind.

“Tell me again!” Clara called back to her. “Tell me how to find home!”

“It’s just physics!” the other woman shouted, taking a step closer; they were nearly the same height. “No information can ever be lost! Start from zero, and run the math! We’ll be waiting on the other end of that equation!”

There was something Clara desperately wanted to tell this woman who looked at her with kindness behind the steel of her eyes, but in that moment, the words wouldn’t come.

“Look!” someone yelled behind Clara, and though she didn’t want to take her eyes off her, she instinctively looked up, following the line of the other person’s arm up into the gathering storm-whipped dusk. There, silhouetted against the last of the light, was the unmistakable blue boxy shape of the Doctor’s TARDIS, spinning quickly as it flew away—

Clara jerked awake, her heart hammering against her ribs, already sitting up and pulling off her sleep mask before she realised what had woken her was the sound of the TARDIS materialising in the sitting room of her flat. She took a moment to catch her breath, trying to hold onto the details of the dream. In the other room, the TARDIS’s familiar wheezing and groaning came to a stop with a soft thud, followed by the squeak of the door.

“Doctor?” Clara called, not bothering to hide the sleep nor the annoyance in her voice.

He poked his head around her bedroom doorframe, grey hair awry and his most innocent expression plastered on — which meant he knew he was waking her and felt at least marginally bad about it. “Hello, Clara. It’s Wednesday,” he said pleasantly, by way of explanation.

“Is it?” she asked, deadpan.

“Technically.”

“You do know that I have to work today, don’t you?”

“Not for another six hours. So come on, up-and-at-‘em, plenty of time to go out and save the universe and still be back in time for your morning coffee. I’ve an adventure that simply won’t keep, so come on!”

His excitement was infectious, as he must have known it would be, but Clara clung to her annoyance a little longer, mostly for show. “You have a time machine: everything can keep,” she replied, but waved him off before he could launch into a lecture on all the ways that statement was false, at least from a temporal physics standpoint. He lectured anyway, hovering outside her bedroom door as she dressed, though Clara expected it was mostly to keep himself from pacing in anticipation. She followed more than half of it, and worried a bit over how often she let him babble on about the minutiae of time travel these days.

By the time the universe had been set to rights — or at least one small blue world, home to a race of sentient seahorses, that had been facing imminent extinction in the form of a rogue exoplanet — she had nearly forgotten her unsettling, vivid dream.

Given the recent events on Skaro, Clara was unsurprised when bits of her experiences there began to filter into her dreams. Truthfully, she had expected to dream of it more often than she did, but in the weeks that followed, more nights than not her sleeping mind instead conjured up the strange orange landscape. She revisited that screaming sandstorm so often it became almost comforting, and before long, other dreams joined it.

Clara was leaned against a railing on a high balcony, overlooking a large city coming alight as dusk crept on, a rusty sunset that stretched the width of the horizon bathing the world in amber. The woman with the serious eyes and long, straight blonde hair stood beside her, in the middle of a conversation, as happened so frequently in dreams.

“Alright, but what about the last stage?” Clara asked, elbows resting next to hers on the railing. “That bit depends on us actively doing something, and you know we can’t rely on my knowledge. I can’t take any of the engineering or navigation with me, so it’ll be down to him.”

“And he loves a good puzzle,” the other woman said confidently, flicking her hair over her shoulder with a twitch of her head. “He’ll want to find us. He’ll figure it out.”

“Before I die of old age? Are you sure? My mother was one of his professors at the Academy, I’ve seen his test scores. I think we need a fail-safe.”

“He did graduate,” she pointed out reasonably.

“He passed his exams with a fifty-one percent on his second attempt! No, we can’t assume he’ll have all the baseline information to even consider such a solution, much less actually accomplish the maths. We have to find some way to hide it with me,” Clara said. “Or in his TARDIS.”

The woman was silent for a long moment, her mouth set in a thoughtful line. On the distant horizon, the sun had finished its slow descent, but below them the city was coming to life, the light not so much fading as changing sources, becoming ever so slightly more golden.

“By that point in the timeline,” the blonde woman said, speaking slowly, still thinking it through, “you’ll have been exposed to his timestream and to the crack in the universe, so some of your memories will probably start leaking through. If we structure the extraction the right way, we might be able to embed a particular thought or moment into your consciousness before you go into the Schism.”

“What’d you have in mind?” Clara asked, turning her head to look at her.

“This conversation?” she suggested, laughing, her broad smile transforming her face. “No, a phrase would be cleaner, I think.”

“‘Run the math, you idiot boy’?” Clara suggested, also giggling.

“Oh yes, that’d go over well! No, if you want him to do something, call him clever. Works every time!” she laughed, leaning her shoulder into Clara’s.

“The horrid thing is that I know the temporal physics for this is part of my mother’s coursework,” Clara groaned. “If he hadn’t slept through so many of her classes, this would be a non-issue!”

“Ah, but a Doctor who was always responsible? What a boring universe that would be!”

Above them, the stars were beginning to come out, though the glare of the city obscured them. Through the haze of the dream, Clara couldn’t find any constellations she recognised. “You don’t have to tell me,” she said. “I was the one who helped him steal that box in the first place.”

“And if he could take half a moment to remember that,” the blonde woman said seriously, “he might realise the role of his TARDIS in all of this, and start to think of the solution that way.”

“‘Run the math, you—”

“Clever.”

“—boy, and remember when you met me’?”

The other woman nodded, considering. “That could do it. Your chronodeterminate conjugation won’t work until you come into contact with at least a little regeneration energy. Assuming you choose regeneration on Trenzalore, it might start kicking in then, in plenty of time for the last stage.”

“Run the math, you clever boy, and remember when you met me,” Clara whispered up to the distant stars, cradling her chin on her arms against the railing.

The woman mimicked her position, the golden light of the city and the silver light of the stars catching in her long pale hair. “It’s just physics,” she murmured back. “Start from zero and run the math. I’ll be waiting at the other end of that equation. We’ll all be waiting.”

As unsettling as they were, at least the orange-tinged dreams were better than nightmares of Daleks, of being locked in the Dalek casing, unable to convince the Doctor that it was her, it was her, she wasn’t a Dalek, she wasn’t a Dalek! Dreams of the Doctor peering at her down an eyestock, this face or the last, or any of the others buried deep in her subconscious, hearing her but not knowing her, seeing her but not saving her.

Clara grasped for that orange sky, let it carry her away in bronze sandstorms, golden cities slowly coming to life, and starlight caught in tawny hair.

Monday morning third period found her Year 10 students taking an essay exam while Clara doodled on a scrap piece of paper, trying to pull images and phrases out of the orange haze that had taken up residence in her slumbering hours since Skaro. There were bits that tugged at her memory, like a song she couldn’t quite place but whose tune was intensely familiar.

She’d written Run the math, you clever boy, and remember when you met me across the top of the page, and her eyes strayed to it every few seconds. The phrase had stayed with her after she woke, and had been on the tip of her tongue ever since, as though it was a message she was meant to deliver. Below it she’d rewritten the phrase, but crossed out six words: Run the math, you clever boy, and remember when you met me.

It was too close for comfort to the phrase that had, in retrospect, changed her life, sent her on her current course. The Maitlands’ mnemonic for their wifi password, which she’d said out loud during that first phone conversation with the Doctor, had caught his attention somehow, and it wasn’t until she jumped into his timestream that she understood. It was the last thing she’d said to him before sacrificing herself to save him. Every fragment of her scattered through his timestream had said it to him at some point as well, the words reverberating endlessly up and down his timeline.

Why her dreams would dredge it up now, and in such a strange context, Clara had no idea. They didn’t feel like random images, but more like memory-dreams, like the bits of echo lives that filtered through to her sleeping mind from time to time. It had to mean something.

Half way down the scrap paper she’d written: It’s just physics. Start from zero and run the math. Below this was the very helpful ??? and Clara idly traced over the question marks again. Physics was still a foreign language to her, despite how much the Doctor prattled on about it at times. She could bring this to him, she mused, but what was it, really? Her subconscious doing backflips in the wake of Skaro, that was all. No grand mystery to solve, no universe-altering secret code, just her. She wouldn’t bother the Doctor with this quite yet.

Besides, she was certain she could tease this apart on her own, follow the clues to their logical conclusion without his assistance. The dreams were insistent, and felt familiar, but Clara was sure she’d never dreamed of the blonde woman and the orange sky prior to Skaro. That was the next clue, then, and she jotted it down on her scrap paper. Something had changed after Skaro, something that caused her subconscious mind to dredge up these particular buried memories.

She needed more information. Dreams about her echo lives were always stronger when she was aboard the TARDIS travelling in the Vortex, sharper and easier to remember. Maybe these orange dreams would be, too. And maybe the TARDIS itself would have some answers for her.

Of course, she didn’t sleep aboard the TARDIS very often, with her insistence on returning home for a week of Real Life in between their Wednesday trips. But the Doctor was never adverse to her sticking around longer than she’d planned, and in the end it didn’t take much to convince him:

“I’ve a staff meeting at work that I’m dreading,” Clara told him on that next Wednesday, when they returned to the TARDIS after their latest outing. “So what do you say I have a little kip and then we squeeze in another adventure before you take me back to face my workday?”

She thought for a moment that the Doctor might question the change in their routine, but he seemed thrilled about the idea. When he announced that he had some tinkering with the engines he’d been putting off that should keep him occupied while she slept, Clara made an excuse to linger in the console room — “just going to finish reading this chapter, then off to bed” — until after he’d gone. Once he’d disappeared down the corridor and around a corner, she quietly set aside her book, then slipped out of her armchair and down the stairs towards the console. The rotors hummed overhead, and somehow Clara knew the TARDIS was aware of her, and was curious to see what she would do.

Carefully clearing her thoughts, she made her way over to the telepathic circuits, pushed up her sleeves, and slid her hands into the strange interface. Focus was the key, she knew, and she was nothing if not focused. She closed her eyes and held two very specific thoughts in her mind: the sand-whipped orange sky in her dreams, and the clear question, Where, please?

She hoped the please would help.

It was a long quiet moment with the circuits warmly cradling Clara’s fingers, and then something on the console beeped. Her eyes flew open and she carefully extracted her hands from the telepathic interface before pulling the monitor down to eye level.

Gallifrey the screen read in English, below an image of a startlingly red-orange planet. Immediately prior to the Time Lock.

Clara felt her heart thud painfully against her ribs as she read the brief text again. She’d been dreaming of Gallifrey? She knew she’d had an echo life on Gallifrey, but she remembered that interaction with the Doctor, and it happened indoors. She had never before dreamt of the Gallifreyan sky. Had it been buried somewhere in her subconscious with the rest of her memories of that life? Why surface now?

More confused than ever, she clicked the screen back to the desktop, unreadable Circular Gallifreyan floating idly across the display. Perhaps she should bring this up with the Doctor — it was his home world, after all. But the whole point of this had been to dream while they were in the Vortex, and if she didn’t get a move on, he’d be ready for their next adventure before she’d even managed to fall asleep. She could talk with him about it later.

And if things worked tonight as she hoped they would, maybe she would even have a bit more information to bring to him when she did.

“Fire suppressant in Pod Four!”

The frantic call was quickly overwhelmed by the sound of the requested suppressant dispensing from the ceiling. When it ended, the speaker, dressed in the dark red uniform of a technician, brushed soot and foam off his shirt.

“It hates me, that one,” he said, nodding at the unassuming gray cylinder in the open pod in front of him. It was devoid of features, even its doors invisible now in the wake of the fire, two meters tall and one meter in diameter, just like all the other patients in the workshop. But somehow it did seem to be glowering at him.

“And it always will, stop wasting your time,” his coworker said flippantly. He was perched in front of a console on the other side of the room, deep in his own repairs. “Just get the Impossible Girl to do it, she’ll have it eating out of her hand by lunchtime.”

Their conversation occurred in the time it took Clara to enter the large oblong workshop and make her way to the far end where the two were working. “I heard that,” she said seriously, earning a guilty-looking jump from the man who had spoken most recently. She continued over to Pod Four and leaned against the outer casing, arms folded over her uniformed chest, one booted ankle crossed over the other. “What did you do now?” she demanded of the first technician.

He looked at her with wide eyes, more out of genuine fear than mock innocence, in her estimation. “I just told it—”

“You what?” she snapped, in a tone she usually reserved for misbehaving students.

He wilted a little but started again “…I told it to—”

“Told it?”

“…to give me access to the logs,” he mumbled, dropping her gaze.

“Told it to give you access to the logs?” she asked, voice harsh. “Well first off, Number Four here prefers male pronouns, respecting that might put you on better footing. And secondly, as with all TARDISes, you’ll get a lot further if you ask rather than tell.”

Behind her, the other tech scoffed. “They’re machines, we shouldn’t have to baby them like that. An access request is an access request.”

Clara turned her head to pin him with an icy glare. “Some days I cannot believe I let you work here,” she told him bluntly. “They aren’t just machines, as you very well know. Yes, there’s hardware we need to be able to work with, but that’s nothing more than a radio, at some level — only instead of radio waves, we’re using oswin waves to talk to pan-dimensional beings so large, they can’t have a physical form in this dimension. Who, with a little extra energy, can take us and an infinite amount of folded space to nearly any point in spacetime. Just think about the massive intelligences that speak to us through each of those machines!

“But more to the point,” she said, turning back to the tech still covered in soot, “you have to understand their viewpoint of the universe, and their understanding of time. A Time Lord telling a TARDIS what to do is akin to creating a fixed point in spacetime. It’s in their nature to want to avoid fixed points. Ask instead, let him find his own way ‘round to it.”

Before the beleaguered technician could reply, there came a polite knocking from the far end of the room, and Clara turned to see a soldier standing in the doorway of the workshop, looking a little out of his depth. “Sorry to interrupt, but I have a message for—” he paused to glance down at the datapad in his hand, “for the Oswin. From the Lady President. Top priority.”

Clara was moving towards him before he’d finished speaking, curious and concerned, her attention focused on the message in his hands. But the dream faded out before she reached him, her mind moving on to something more abstract, more difficult to hold on to.

When she woke in her bed aboard the TARDIS, she stared at the ceiling with fond frustration. “If that was your attempt at help,” she whispered to the ship, “then I do not understand the message.”

It still wasn’t enough to bring to the Doctor, she decided later that day, watching him spin around the console room in the afterglow of a successful adventure, people saved, the universe bettered. So she was dreaming of Gallifrey, what of it? Many of the details in that last dream matched up with what she remembered of her interaction with the Doctor in that life. And while he occasionally enjoyed comparing memories of all the times her echoes had met him, she’d found he wasn’t especially keen on discussing the one in which she’d helped him steal the TARDIS and leave Gallifrey. Susan continued to be a point of pain for the Doctor, all these centuries later, and Clara understood him well enough to know better than to pick at that particular scab.

Still. That phrase was on a loop in her head: run the math, you clever boy, and remember when you met me. The emphasis on their meeting hadn’t been part of the original phrase, and now she was dreaming of the life in which they’d met face to face for the first time, from the Doctor’s perspective. Clearly they would have to discuss it at some point.

Eventually, but not yet.

#long post #about me #my writing #like seriously all of it #fanfiction #fandom life #AO3 #Home The Long Way 'Round #For As Long As We Get #All Hands #Truth Universally Acknowledged #et al #if you read that chapter let me know what you think!#❤️

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cosmosogler · 7 years ago

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hello. last night i had a lot of trouble falling asleep, and a lot of trouble staying asleep, and then a lot of trouble getting up. i got up an hour late.

i woke up feeling like i’d forgotten something really important. i never remembered quite what it was. just half images that i can’t describe. a business suit with a fractal of colors. a very plain office. a decision.

i got up and got ready fairly quickly... i took 20 extra minutes to make some pasta salad for lunch for a few days this week. i cleaned up snoopy’s food and water area. i did some dishes. i looked at my to-do list. i finished up the last of my laundry.

so i got up at 8:30-ish. not QUITE an hour late, i guess? but definitely not enough sleep at all. i was so drowsy today. biking was real hard.

i left for the office right at 11 and got there before 11:20. so i sat down and had my lunch until 11:30 and then i got to work grading. i graded until 8:40 pm with an hour off for dinner with jennica and soham. i took about 7 of my 9 10-minute breaks.

i only graded (not quite) two sections, out of the eight that were remaining. not to mention i didn’t even touch my classical homework. the professor moved the due date back to 5 pm tomorrow instead of 9:30 am because it is apparently too hard.

i haven’t started it yet, except writing down the first question and looking over all of them on wednesday-ish. and i have class for 3 hours, and my office hour, and the appointment with the care area for an hour or so. i will be busy from 9:30 (when i get to campus) through 12, and then from 3 to 5. i DO NOT have ANY time to do this homework assignment if i want to get literally any more grading done. there are nine sections of the lab due tomorrow and i’ve only got done 2 and 9/10ths.

they are the longest 3 sections, sure. but it’s still 6 more sessions that i have to grade. suzanne and luis and jennica told me to stop making comments on the labs. i don’t make any comments on the labs any more!!!

i was just having so much trouble focusing that i’d end up reading an answer five times before i figured out if it was right or not. and half of the people’s handwriting was giving me a headache to try to decipher. i started taking off points if i couldn’t make out what they were saying within five seconds of seeing the sentence.

well, “started.” i’d been doing that in the first section a bit too. i just got more liberal about applying the penalty.

so that’s what i did for nine and a half hours today. i biked home and it was so cold that i wore the sweater i’d brought to campus back in september (since the ac was chilly back then). when i checked my mail i found someone else’s package in my box. at least half the mail i get is addressed to someone else. i took the package to the room it belonged to. the guy seemed grouchy that i’d knocked on his door twice but brightened when he saw i had his missing mail. i really didn’t want to just leave it out in the hallway and i don’t have time to take it to the front office.

when i got home i crammed one of my frozen dinners in the microwave and petted snoopy. i signed up for grocery store coupons since i hadn’t done that before... it’ll save me a few dollars. the employees said it was automatic but the web site doesn’t seem to agree with them. i also bought 25$ worth of steam games for the sale, since gramma sent me 20 bucks in the mail. five games is a good haul.

then it was 10 so i started writing. and that was my entire day.

i sent my supervisor an email... i know he probably won’t accept “i have crippling depression” as a reason i didn’t get the work done so i told him i’d been hit by a motorcycle while biking. which is entirely true, but not the only reason. just the most acceptable one.

my fingers and ankles are feeling better today. my foot’s still a little stiff and my thumb knuckle hurts when i bend it but other than that it seems like i will recover fine. just bruised. and tired. and grouchy.

i can’t tell if “too depressed to move” counts as taking a day off or not. like, it’s taking a day off from working. but it’s not resting or recovering really. even if it did count, i haven’t taken a full day off... since the hurricane a month and a half ago? i think. and i don’t really consider that a vacation. i did listen to like 40 episodes of the adventure zone i guess. is that a vacation? it didn’t feel great being stuck in my apartment for several days with no chance to go outside. that was more of a hassle than a vacation. the podcast was just to have something to DO.

ok it’s bed time. i want to get enough sleep tonight since i can’t do much else right now. and i am also just completely exhausted mental energy-wise. focusing on one job for 9 hours is draining. the breaks helped... at least my eyes didn’t die. the reading glasses helped.

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hillywooddestiel · 7 years ago

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Walls Chapter 1

Characters:Sam, Dean x Hunter!Reader (eventually), some mysterious characters...

Warnings: Graphic(ish) violence, smut (kinda, its very mild), angst (lots), a couple more maybe but I don’t want to give anything away

Word Count:1.5k

A/N: So this has been in my drafts for a little while and I couldn’t wait to get it out there so here it is. Plus I just gained quite a few followers in the last week so this feels like an appropriate time. Like I said before, I don’t want to give anything away so no description and no aesthetic thing yet so have a semi-appropriate gif for now. I’ll add it to the next parts but it’s a huge give away. I felt so evil writing this but I loved every minute. So hold on tight, it’s gonna be a bumpy ride!

Story:

“Cheers!” You grin, clinking your glass with the guys. For once, a hunt had gone smoothly; no injuries, no fuss, no taking 7 showers to get rid of suspicious gooey substances that had exploded all over you. So you’d decided to treat yourselves to a night of drinking at the local bar. It was crowded, buzzing with people finishing work for the day. “Hey, Y/N!” Sam half whispers, nudging your arm. “What’s up Sammy?” you smirk, watching him sigh at the use of that name. “4 o'clock at the bar. Red tie.” He nods his head in the general direction. There at the bar sits a not-too-shabby gentleman in a navy suit. His grey eyes are fixated on you. Out of politeness, you smile and nod then look back to Sam. “I don’t know Sam, isn’t he a bit creepy? You know, staring like that.” While it is true that you aren’t interested in a one night stand, Sam doesn’t really know the reason why. That reason why is sat between the two of you, making eyes with a tipsy blonde across the bar. And he isn’t the least bit interested in you.

Deep down, you know nothing will ever happen between you and Dean. Hunters don’t get happy endings. But that didn’t stop your mind from thinking of the what could be’s. Almost every day, you dream of him confessing his feelings to you, kissing you, holding you in those muscular arms. Although then again, it has been a while since you got laid.

Sighing, you muster your sweetest smile, adjust your top to show more cleavage, and strut over to the suit at the bar. He eyes you up and down, lingering on your chest. “Hey,” your voice is lower, in an attempt at seduction. “Well hello…” his eyes continue to wander. You pick up on his accent immediately. British. You’d be lying if you said he didn’t become more attractive after hearing him speak. “It’s late, how about we get out of here? I have a motel room across the street…” You have no time for small talk. He nods quickly, placing his hand dangerously low on your waist as he escorts you out into the fresh air. He’s a total sleaze, but right now you don’t care. You just want to get your mind off Dean and have some fun.

Dean’s POV It only takes her two minutes to convince some suited asshole at the bar to leave with her. Not surprising since everyone finds her so damn hot. I can’t lie, I did stare at her ass as she left. It’s not my fault that she was wearing those skinny jeans that look so good on her. But, I shouldn’t think like this. We’re friends. That’s all we’ll ever be. Hunter’s don’t get that fairy tale ending. It’s fact.

I sigh into my bottle. The blonde chick with the mini skirt has been staring all night. All I have to do is switch on the Winchester charm, buy her a drink, and she’d happily follow me back to the motel. Y/N is getting some action tonight so why can’t I?

I look over to Sam. He’s pissed and still easily hustling a game of pool. With him doing his own thing, I approach the blonde, smiling and signalling the bartender for a drink. Tonight, I just need to get Y/N out of my mind.

Your POV You don’t even know this guy’s name as he rips your shirt over your head before pulling you into a kiss. You begin unbuttoning his shirt, ignoring his hands constantly squeezing your ass. You may be about to sleep together but he his one handsy dude. Making all sorts of groans, he leads you to the bed and pushes you back with more force than you were expecting. He’s swift, removing his pants and underwear till he’s in front of you in all his glory. Feeling the familiar throb from between your thighs, you quickly unclasp your bra before he leaps on top of you.

Clearly not one for foreplay, it isn’t long before he’s thrusting inside you. Judging from his moans, he’s clearly having a good time. That makes one of you. You close your eyes for a moment and when you open them, it’s not the suit on top of you- it’s Dean. He smiles at you. It’s infectious, as you begin to smile back. “Oh, Y/N…” he breathes, leaning down and kissing you passionately. “Oh…” you moan, catching yourself before saying his name. Because, unfortunately, this isn’t Dean. It’s a stranger. Meaningless.

He flops to your side, panting like a dog. “Well you sure know how to help a man blow off steam…” he says smugly, resting his hands behind his head. “Mmhmm” is you response, you feign enjoyment. Not wanting to have an awkward chat, you roll over to go to to sleep. Your dreams consist of you and Dean in various states of undress.

Dean’s POV The chick from the bar was fun. But she wasn’t Y/N. How I wish it could be her next to me, exhausted from a night of wild sex. I wish I could turn over and pull her closer. Breathe in her sweet apple scent from her shampoo she loves so much. Stare into her Y/E/C eyes and lose myself in them. But I know I can’t. Not only is Y/N not next to me, she’s next to another man right now in the room next door. Probably happy. Not torn up inside with feelings for her best friend.

Your POV Rolling onto your back, you feel a harsh white light shining on your closed eyes. Morning already? You wince as your eyes slowly open. Nope! That light is too bright when you have a hangover. Scooting yourself off the bed, you shuffle to the window to close the curtain, eyes still closed. You fumble around for the thin drapes but all you feel is the smooth wall. That’s odd. You rub your eyes, preparing yourself to open them.

White. That’s the only way to describe the room you find yourself in. The bed, the walls, the light. Everything is white. You’re even wearing a white t-shirt and pants. Opposite your bed is another room, the exact mirror of yours. The only thing separating them is a red line across the floor, up the walls and along the roof. It splits the space in half. Panic rising in your chest, you sit back on the bed and breathe slowly. The last thing you need right now is a panic attack.

Suddenly the door of the opposite room swings open. A man is pushed in onto his knees wearing a similar outfit to yours. He looks up for a moment, green eyes full of fear. “Dean!” you shout, rushing over to him. As you reach the red line, you feel something solid smack you in the face, bouncing your entire body backwards. You try again, only to feel an invisible wall stopping you. “Dean!” you yell again, smacking the solid air.

The door opens again. Two men in white scrubs with surgical masks covering their faces enter Dean’s side of the room. Everything about their appearance is unsettling. They stop either side of Dean like sinister guards. In unison, they throw punch after punch at Dean, his blood spattering the white surroundings. You scream in horror, punching the clear wall in a futile attempt to break through. They continue their onslaught of punches and kicks, over and over and over again, turning Dean into a bloody pulp. Blood has splashed onto the clear wall, dripping onto the floor. Your side of the room remains clean. Like sadistic clockwork figures, they both stop, pick up Dean by his arms and drag his lifeless body out of the room, leaving a bloody trail.

Sobbing, you drop to the floor, still seeing the bloody mess when you close your eyes. All of a sudden, you feel drowsy. “Dean…” you sniff one final time before slumping to the floor unconscious.

??? POV “Interesting,” says the doctor before scribbling something on his clipboard. He pushes his glasses up his greasy nose before observing some more. “This is quite the emotional reaction, wouldn’t you agree?” he directs to me. “Yes, quite.” I respond. The girl falls to the ground, crying like a baby. “Initiate the serum. Sleeping Beauty needs her rest after what she’s seen.” The doctor complies, turning the dial on his control board. Almost instantaneously, the girl drops sleeping to the floor. “How soon can we move on to phase two?” “Well, we need to run a few more simulations first, get her used to things, but I’d estimate she’ll break in about a week’s time. Maybe less if we up the intensity.” I nod approvingly. Ma'am should be happy with these results. I turn to Stevenson, “Good job bringing her in chap!” “No problem sir, it was rather enjoyable.” He smiles, adjusting his red tie. “Good job everyone,” I raise my voice for the rest of the team “We’ll let her rest for 5 hours and resume testing then. In the mean time, every body take a break…”

Part 2

Published by @hillywooddestiel 01/07/17

#supernatural #dean winchester #dean x reader #dean and reader #SPN #angst #Sam Winchester #fanfic #reader insert #walls #hillywooddestiel

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cyclinglegs · 7 years ago

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La Course

Annemiek van Vleuten from Orica won the 4th edition of La Course, a race that took in a mountain stage on day on a Col d’Izoard 67.5 km mountains, and a 22.5 km time trial pursuit on day two.

The best twenty riders from Thursday’s stage won the right to compete for the win in today’s second event, with the time gaps from the Izoard carried into a staggered start for the 22.5kilometre time trial course around Marseille.

Phil Anderson

I will be at home this year, the first time since at least the late 70’s watching Le Tour supporting the Aussies – http://philandersoncycling.com.au/blog/my-tour-de-france-2017

As you may have heard, Phil had a nasty crash on a training ride in Melbourne last week.

It’s been a tough day in the office. Sitting up and feeling great after a rough training ride. For the first time in my career I have a broken collar-bone and broken every rib on my left side. All things considered, not bad and I can’t remember a thing.

Apparently Phil was found wandering on the roadside with concussion. It is thought the crash was the result of either a pothole or a wallaby. I’m going with the pothole theory as the Wallabies haven’t been able to stick a tackle for years.

When it comes time to work out whether to sty home or go to next years TdF, I’m guessing Phil will be going.

Given his long professional cycling career, it’s surprising that this is his first Collar Bone

Speedy recovery Phil.

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Warmfront

A funny little tea-towell looking thing with a vicars collar arrived at the Wednesday Legs testing lab a few months ago, going by the name of Warmfront

Made in Colarado, it came with the promise:

“The Warmfront is a chest warmer, but it’s a better thermal base layer”

The Warmfront is made from a waffle fleece, which sounds delicious to a cyclist, is lightweight, and with the velcro tab collar, allows you to ride with it stadshed nice and neat in your back pocket without taking up much space. At 51g, you barely know it’s there.

When you ned it, it’s easy to whip it out, place down your front, attach the collar around your neck and wallah, off you go, down into the great known. Coming back from mid-summer riding in France a few weeks back to mid-winter riding in Adelaide was hard to take. Whilst we don’t generally get sub-zero temperatures, the Adelaide Hills can get awfully close, and throw in wind chill, it can be very uncofortable.

I popped out for a ride in the Superb Adelaide Hills (have I mentioned that before?) the previous weekend. Blue skys, no rain, halelulah. The route took me up Greenhill road, around to Mylor, up the 4 Whores, Morgan Road, Pole Road and wrapping back around to Redberry Cafe for a coffee with Mrs Wednesday and Wednesday Junior.

It was 5 degrees in Adelaide when I left, so assuming the usual 3 – 5 degrees difference at the top of Greenhill road, it was going to be a bloody cold ride, so with three layers and a Warmfront thrown into the rear pocket, I figured this would be a good test.

I’m glad I did – I robed up at the top of Greenhill road, and then spent the next three glorious hours cruising the Adelaide Hills comfortable not numb (showing my age there). The Warmfront worked a treat gliding down into Mylor, which for those in the know is one of the coldest spots in the Adelaide Hills. With the waffle on the front only, any heat buildup can escape on the back, so I didn’t need to remove it on the short sharp climbs in the hills. In fact, I was a littl econcerned that I would be pulling it on and off on the rolling Adelaide Hills, but I was quite surprised that I was able to keep it on for the remainder of the ride.

So my verdict, I was glad I had it with me and it’ll be with me on my winter Hill rides – highly recommended for those colder months riding in the hills.

The Warmfronts are distributed in Australia by Full Beam – see here for details on the Warmfront – Fullbeam

Oh, and this was some of the country side I rode through on that cold cold morning

___________________________________

Adelaide Cycling Maps by Velo-Port

For those looking for some ideas on where to ride in Adelaide, the guys over at Velo-Porte have pulled together some great rides that provide a great sample of all that the Adelaide Hills have to offer.

On offer are a variety of lengths and climbing difficulty, and sitting behind each of these maps are a detailed description of what to expect along each of the major sections of the rides.

VP’sn description of the 75km VPCC KOM Loop ride is on point.

This one is not for the faint-hearted. We may not have the monsterously long climbs of Europe but we can stitch together endless climbs of different grades and lengths.

The combined climbs highlighted below add up to about 18 kms of climbing and 1720m of elevation.

It’s not the longest ride out there but we’ve struggled to write about any of the flat sections, mostly because there aren’t any.

This is a great training ride or if you just feel like testing the legs, give it a crack.

Enjoy?

So check them out here – http://www.velo-porte.com/local-knowledge

Those coming from interstate will find this a very useful source of cycling inspiration – oh, don’t forget you can also hire a good bike of you don’t want to bring your own

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Annecy – France

Please bare with my self indulgance – this is the last of my holiday pics.

Part 3 of my France trip, which seems so long ago now, had me heading over to Annecy for 4 days before I flew back to Adelaide.

Annecy is an alpine town in southeastern France, where Lake Annecy feeds into the Thiou River. It’s known for its Vieille Ville (old town), with cobbled streets, winding canals and pastel-colored houses. Overlooking the city, the medieval Château d’Annecy, once home to the Counts of Geneva, contains a museum with regional artifacts such as Alpine furniture and religious art, plus a natural history exhibit.

Why Annecy – I’m glad you asked.

I can recall watching last years TdF, listening to Robbie McEwan on the SBS commentary team talk about how Annecy would be his preferred home in Europe if given the chance.

It was around then that I was starting to think about that trip to France, and Robbie’s comments were parked for future reference. The next day, I saw a friends posting on Facebook, they were on holiday in Annecy when the tour came through that day, and her daughter was more interested in something going on in the shade away from the heat than she was in this world-famous race just a few metres away.

Following on from Robbie’s comments, I asked my friend about Annecy, and she responded by saying that they had been staying in Annecy every summer holidays for over 5 years (they live in the UK), and liked it so much they had just bought a holiday house there.

Aaaannnd,

the offer was put out that it was available if me and the family wanted to make use of it. That offer was parked.

So, when the trip with Unique Cycling Tours came on the radar, and starting/finishing in Lyon, just a few hours train from Annecy, the ball was set in motion, emails sent, negotiations on the home front, and plans made to extend my trip to take advantage of the generous offer.

Take a look at this. Oh my!

After getting dropped off at Lyon airport by the Unique Cycling Tours crew at the end of the trip, Ed, Ferg and myself caught the light rail from the Saint-Exupéry train station at the airport into Gare de la Part-Dieu – the old Lyon train station. Ed and I were both heading to Annecy, Ed to catch up with a friend before they headed over to the UK for a walking holiday, Ferg came along because he was hanging around in Lyon an extra day and decided to have a look see in Lyon – he came in handy as we needed someone who could half-speak French – ish.

The train station at the airport is stunning, modern concrete and steel structure that looks like a steam punk style cockroach – or if you squint your eyes, it could be a swooping magpie.

The train out to Annecy took a few hours, lovely countryside, a few lakes, and then popping out in Annecy. I found out that Sunday evening in Annecy is not the ideal time to be looking for a Taxi. I arrived around 6:30pm, and an hour later and 3 knock-backs, which I think my bike bag looked like too much hassle. I found out later in the week from a local that there are few taxis around on Sunday, and those that were around didn’t want to venture too far from town – my accommodation was 15km down the lake.

A quick call to my friend Michelle in the UK for some ideas had me heading to a local pub – Au Beureau – for a meal to bide my time before trybig for a taxi a little later. As it turned out, the head waiter spoke pretty decent English, and after a couple of Blondes of the Belgium Beer variety (Leffe) and a bite to eat, I asked and received help from said head waiter. Brilliant. He called the taxi company, was advised they would search for a cab that could take my bike bag, called back 15 minutes later to see if there was any progress, asked me if I was ok to share (Yes), and then helped me with my bags when the taxi when it arrived. Outstanding service. Check them out here. http://www.aubureau-annecy.fr/

In fact, looking at the pubs Facebook site, this picture sprung out because the young lady just right of centre front with the long braided hair was my waitress, and the young man next to her right shoulder was the head waiter who helped me. Thanks guys, your effort was very much appreciated.

The second surprise of my Annecy stay was the taxi ride itself. The taxi – a BMW 4 Series Gran Coupe, cool. The share passenger sat in the front, I sat in the back surrounded by my baggage stuffed in, and with the window down and the warm wind in my face, I was given a great tour of the lake as the taxi driver – a close relation to Alain Prost, took me on a journey around te lake as he dropped the share passenger opposite from where I was going – no drama. That journey was bliss, all the worries of how I was going to find my accomodation drafted out the window – I was given a fantastic 3/4 loop of the lake. The thoughts going through my brain were along the lines of “I wonder whether the company I worked for would like to set up an office in Annecy”. First impression – impressive – looks like a great adult playground.

Arriving at the house, seeing the gate slide back when I punched the code into the panel – such a huge a relief.

OK, without going into the boring day by day details of my 4 days, I’ll give some brief highlights.

Standing on the front Porch of the house had me looking over the lake and up to the mountains on the other side.

At night, looking across the lake, the lights of a restaurant far up in the mountains opposite shone bold and bright in the dark skyline, and therefore a target for a ride the next day ride. The ride up through the mountain roads was stunning as expected and the views back down onto the lake were impressive, but the highlight of this days ride was finding my way to the main launch platform for the para-gliders that are seen circling Lake Annecy most days.

Have a look at these few videos from up top.

There were a staggering number of jumpers – is that what you call them? – all in their groups, all waiting their turn to throw themselves off the edge. Before I saw them, I would never have contemplated something like this, I could never build up the courage to do, but sitting down watching the takeoffs and the gliding, it was mesmersing and didn’t look as scary as I thought. I could almost imagine myself doing this.

The main sticking point for me, apart from the launching into space, was watching the jumpers uintangle and sort out the strings connecting them to the parachute. I can see myself getting in a big tangle.

The Bike Path

Surrounding Annecy, or 3/4 of it, is a bike path. On one side of the lake is a dedicated two lane oath that is mostly flat and well removed from the road. The other side of the lake has a mix of undulating paths and quiet side roads. The main dedicated path squirts out the bottom end all the way up to Albertville.

Annecy itself is a funny town. The old town section looks an absolute treat, plenty of charm and terriffic photo opportunities, but it changes from a lovely quaint olde world village feel before the main shops open around 10 ish, into one of those clichéd tourist precincts with jam-packed restaurants and cafes along the canals and tourist shops. My first day I popped out on the bike looking for some breakfast and ended up riding into town and around the lake.

The following day I popped in early afternoon, the old town was jam-packed and with the sardine tinning of the old town, it was hard to ignore the massess and focus on the buildings and surroundings I had seen the previous day.

That being said, Annecy is more than the old town, and the beauty and charm of the place, the lake, the outdoor activities, the cafes and bars, and dare i say it sme half decent coffe, the proximity to snow fields and the great riding tracks, all make for a brilliant holiday destination.

My last full day had me riding up the mountain behind me – no idea what I would find other than the fact I knew it was a dead-end. Another fabulous morning ride, up through a village halfway up, the hill, through dark forests, discovering, walking and riding down tracks that were barely visible from the road, only to pop out on the edge of the mountain and discovering a “hidden” paragliding launch pad, much smaller than the previous one, with 7 – 8 jumpers preparing themselves for launch. The thermals these guys were picking up on this side of the lake had them soaring above our heads within minutes. Quite amazing – makes me think twice about giving it a go at some time in the future.

Make sure you turn the sound up for the below.

And a few vids from the other side. I love this one.

Baguette time – oh yeah!

_________________

Tour de France

Congratulations to the classification winners at this years Tour.

General Classification – Maillot Jaune (Yellow Jersey)

Points classification – Green Jersey

Mountains classification – Polka Dot

Young rider classification – White Jersey

There’s some big names that have donned the White Jersey:

2000 Francisco Mancebo (ESP) 2001 Óscar Sevilla (ESP) 2002 Ivan Basso (ITA) 2003 Denis Menchov (RUS) 2004 Vladimir Karpets (RUS) 2005 Yaroslav Popovych (UKR) 2006 Damiano Cunego (ITA) 2007 Alberto Contador (ESP) 2008 Andy Schleck (LUX) 2009 Andy Schleck (LUX) 2010 Andy Schleck (LUX) 2011 Pierre Rolland (FRA) 2012 Tejay van Garderen (USA) 2013 Nairo Quintana (COL) 2014 Thibaut Pinot (FRA) 2015 Nairo Quintana (COL) 2016 Adam Yates (GBR)

Great to see Simon keep it in the family.

With Simon and Adam with Orica (hands off Sky), along with Chavez and with the possible transfer of Mike Nieve Ituralde from Team Sky, the next 2 – 3 years are looking quite solid for the GC classifications across the 3 week races.

This years tour, some would say, was a lop sided again with Team Sky controlling the ride right from the start to the finish. Chris Froome won his 4th TdF without winning a stage, the team were marking his major rivals blah blah blah.

Oh, and Team Sky, which has the biggest budget of the peloton, has now snatched five of the last six titles.

I found this years tour to be quite fascinating. With the changing fortunes and on road dramas of favourites in the other classification made for exciting and fascinating racing. You were never quite sure what to expect. The racing was exciting, the climbing stages like up Croix de Foir followed b the Galibier, with Contador lighting up the stage up front, but unable to close it out, only for Primoz Roglic to claw his way to the lead half way up the Galibier and draw away was just stunning.

Then there were the crashes and disqualifications that played a huge part in the look of the final classifications . Not detracting from the from the classification winners, they deserve everything that is coming towards them. The tour is a trial of survival over 21 stages of unbelievably gruelling hard days of riding. But, there is no doubt that the viewing public was looking forward to seeing Porte fight it out with Froome right into France, and Sagans fight with Kittel, oh dear.

And whats all this bonhomie spreading throughout the peloton this year? It seemed that Chris Froome was given way too much respect. I didn’t agree with Aru attacking under his armpit on the 9th stage, but there were a few other incidents where the Peloton waited for him to rejoin.

And at last, the Home of the tour has thrown up something the French can be proud of, its taken a long time with stage 13, 102-kilometre ride from Saint Girons to Foix go to Frenchman Warren Barguil (Sunweb) on Bastille Day.

Warrens win was the first by a Frenchman on Bastille Day since 2005 when David Moncoutié won in Digne. It was also the fourth French win in this Tour after Arnaud Demare (FDJ) won stage four, Lilian Calmejane (Direct Energie) stage eight and Romain Bardet (Ag2r-La Mondiale) stage 12. Unfortunately the French drought of a Frenchman winning the Tour since Bernard Hinault in 1985 has still not been broken, but there are promising signs.

Not forgetting that Man with a Thousand Faces” Thomas Voekler , riding his last Tour de France. Chapeau Thomas, its been fun watching you light up the road with the Mountains classification win in 2012, and 4 individual stages in 2009, 2010 and 2012.

And last, but definitely not least, this weeks rider of the week. You’ll love the before nd after photos of this writeup – I was astounded,

_______________________________

Rider of the Week – Paul Clode

Paul grew up in the ‘Siberia’ of South Australia… Mt Gambier… and moved to the sunshine of Adelaide to start Uni in early 1989.

Studying Design at Underdale, he quickly found a connection to his country boy roots through riding mountain bikes in the Adelaide hills with a bunch of Uni mates. After Uni he started work at Stratco and, despite a 6 year detour to another company Stratco owned, still find himself there to this day!

Paul looks after a small in-house team of designers who create all kinds of packaging, brochures, catalogues, advertising etc. for the company at their head office at Gepps Cross.

This is Paul’s cycling story

Can you remember what your first bike was?

My first bike was a Repco Husky 10 speed with shifters on the down tube which I got when I was in year 7 at school. This was used as my transport to school and for chuffing around the countryside in the search of adventure.

It wasn’t long before I was tinkering with it… repaint… flat bars (which were becoming popular with these new fangled mountain bike thingys!)

What got you started in cycling?

I didn’t really become a ‘cyclist’ until my Uni days where a couple of guys had these flash mountain bikes with ‘shocks’ on the front. Wow! Cool!

I lashed out and bought a Repco Maxtrax MTB for $170 – that’ll do the job, won’t it?

It didn’t take long to realise I needed something better.

So, I finished Uni, got a job, got a car loan… and bought a GT RTS-3 full suspension MTB! I did spend some of it on a car… but the bike cost more than my car).

I was hooked. I even started MTB racing, even though back then MTB racing was nowhere near as big as it is now.

But, after a number of years, life got in the way – work, family, my riding friends moving away – and I slowly rode less and less until eventually I stopped riding.

The big problem with this is that I got fat… until one day I realised at 105kgs that I needed to do something about it. Mmmmm… bike riding!

Luckily I was able to lose 25kgs over a year or so, which then made riding easier. I really got serious again in 2012 when I heard a friend talking about the ‘3 Peaks Challenge’ at Falls Creek.

My sense of adventure was awakened and I decided that I might have a go at it. This also meant that I needed to ‘cross to the dark side’ and buy a road bike.

Around that time, Brendon Harslett, one of the dads at my son’s school, heard that I was riding and suggested I join his early morning weekday group.

That’s Brendon on the floor

Once I started they couldn’t get rid of me. They are a great bunch of guys and slowly over time our rides started getting earlier and earlier.

We are now meeting at 5am at the Tower Hotel a couple of times a week… and sometimes even earlier at 4:30am (which means getting up at 3:30am).

The reward is great banter, great riding in the hills and coffee at Argo’s on the Parade at 7am. Mmmmm… coffeeeee.

At a guess, how many bikes have you owned in your life?

I think about 8 bikes in total – I tend to hold onto them and still have my GT RTS-3. It’s an antique! Currently 5 are operational and one MTB frame is in the shed rafters.

The operational fleet includes a Cannondale Synapse (alloy frame), Malvern Star Oppy, Specialized Crux CX bike, the old GT RTS-3 and a GT Force MTB than has been turned into a ‘franken-bike’ with a Zaskar 29er carbon fibre main frame mated to the Force’s alloy rear frame… but with 26” wheels not 29”… crazy, I tell you… CRAZY!!!

What is your main go to bike?

My main bike is the Malvern Star Oppy which was bought off EBay as a frame, repainted and built up with Di2. Bzzzt!

What bike do you covet?

I wouldn’t mind the new Trek Madone… or maybe a Canyon… or maybe a Lightweight Urgestalt..

or… there’s just too many I like! As long as it’s black.

What do you personally get out of cycling?

Cycling is just a great way to get outdoors and refresh the soul (no, I’m not a hippy.. no offence to hippies). I just love getting out in the hills on a sunny day and talking rubbish with your mates and just enjoying life.

But there MUST be coffee and pastries somewhere on the ride. Not negotiable.

Do you do all your own maintenance or do you use a LBS? If so, which one?

As a long time tinkerer, I do all of my own bike maintenance and building. Wheel truing is about the only thing I’ve never tried – it seems like a ‘black art’ to me. But I’ve had the odd work done over the years by Bicycle Express, Bike Society at Blair Athol and Whippets Workshop and all have been good (no complaints from me!).

If you could have dinner with 3 people from the cycling world (living or dead), who would they be and why?

I’m not much of a cycling fan boy, so I think I’d rather choose the guys I ride with. I reckon that would be far more enjoyable.

Where would you take them to eat?

I’d be happy with KFC, although I don’t think they would (Eds note – I reckon Brendon might! 🙂).

What are your craziest/fondest cycling memories?

Some of my best memories are from my early days of mountain biking. We would often go on loosely planned trips to the Flinders Ranges or the Grampians with inadequate camping supplies, food and equipment – and no real plan.

It was a shambles, but the riding, adventure and mateship always made for a fantastic time.

Have you had any nasty crashes? If so how did the worst occur and what was the consequence?

Luckily I have never crashed a road bike (touch wood) but I’ve had a few spills on the MTB.

The worst was hitting a gate at high-speed on a night ride coming down Chambers Gully. My forearm hit the top rail of the gate as I flipped over it and snapped both bones. Nothing a few steel plates, some screws and bit of time off the bike won’t fix.

I just felt sorry for the poor guy who’s door I knocked on asking for help – his wife had just got home after 6 months away and they were in the middle of getting ‘re-aquainted’! Sorry mate. (Eds note: bwah ha ha ha ha!)

What is the biggest cycling lie you have told a partner?

Apart from the usual ‘halve the cost of all cycling gear/clothing purchases’ lie (is it really a lie…? more like a re-interpretation of the facts based on new evidence) I think the one that comes out most often is the “my ride partner had a flat/mechanical/injury/crash/wasn’t feeling well/was really slow” excuse for being late back from a ride.

What cycling related thing would you like for your next birthday?

A power meter would be nice! Don’t really need it but I like gadgets!

Is there a local cycling outfit/company/cycling club/cycling group/person that you would like to plug?

I’d like to say Keith from Velo-Porte who has been a great supporter of our cycling adventures and trips such as 3 Peaks and Amy’s Gran Fondo in Lorne.

Also the boys at Indigo and Blk-Tec, Brendon Harslett and Simon Zappia – a couple of local boys creating innovative products for cyclists, from right here in Adelaide.

From a non-cycling perspective, what do you love about Adelaide?

I think Adelaide is just the right size for a liveable city and has so much going for it with the hills, the beaches, the food and the TDU!

Apart from the local KFC, what is your non-cycling go-to place when interstaters come to Adelaide?

Anywhere in the hills or wine regions is great, although Hahndorf is probably the first stop for food and drinks for the tourists. And maybe a coffee. And some pastries (now I remember why I got to be so big!).

Thanks Paul, I’m amazed at that drop in weight – simply astounding. If that demonstration of what cycling can do for you, I don’t know what will.

Chapeau Paul Clode

__________________________________

Well

If I must say so myself, another epic edition of Wednesday Legs

Trusting you enjoyed it as much as I did pulling it together.

till next time

tight spokes

iPib

France Extraordinaire La Course Annemiek van Vleuten from Orica won the 4th edition of La Course, a race that took in a mountain stage on day on a Col d’Izoard 67.5 km mountains, and a 22.5 km time trial pursuit on day two.

0 notes

resetmypatientviolence · 6 years ago

Text

Someday (Drake x MC) [NSFW]

Supposed To Be– Epilogue Part 1 of “Supposed To Be”

Part 1: Not Yet Part 2: Wait Part 3: Confused Part 4: Didn’t(NSFW) Part 5: I’m Pregnant Part 6: Choice (NSFW) Part 7: Future (NSFW) Part 8: FightPart 9: Show (NSFW), Part 10: It’s Yours, Part 11: Please, Part 12: How, Part 13.1: Queen (NSFW)13.2: Queen (NSFW-ish), Part 14: Ready, Part 15: I Think, Part 16: Acceptance, Part 17: Okay, Part 18: Goodbye, Part 19: Squeeze, Part 20: It’s Over Part 21: Loved, Part 22: Here (NSFW), Part 23: Ours (NSFW), Part 24: Supposed To Be (NSFW)

Word count: 5,137

Pairing: Drake x Jaela

Rating: M; NSFW

Warnings: Language; NSFW

Summary: In part one of this epilogue, Drake and Jaela enjoy their honeymoon-- and Liam has something he'd like to share with Drake and Jaela: his family.

Suggested Song Accompaniments: Electric-- Alina Baraz feat. Khalid

Notes: Kinda can’t believe that this is the 2nd to last chapter of Supposed To Be. It’s... wow. I can’t get teary writing this. That said, part two will be posted next week-- bringing this plot, this story, these characters... this... story that made me realize I wrote things that people liked... to an end. I’m forever grateful. Please, please enjoy what you’ve been waiting for: Liam’s happy ending. MASTERLIST

Thunder crashed and rain pounded on the roof of the cabin, but Jaela paid no attention as she hummed to herself, stirring the pot with warming milk and cocoa, wearing nothing but Drake’s classic shirt. It fell to the tops of her thighs, just below the curve of her ass. It had been a common outfit during their honeymoon, clothes worn and then shed and forgotten an hour later, Jaela preferring to don his shirt or nothing at all in the complete and utter privacy of his— their— cabin, safe and warm.

After the insanity of their wedding and the state of the country… this was preferred, sealing themselves away for three weeks as Mr. and Mrs. Walker.

The corners of her swollen lips— from the series of searing kisses hours ago, before the rain came, in the shed— Jaela merely wanted to see what it was like to fuck in there, since they hadn’t done it there yet and their time was almost up to return to the real world—lifted. Well, she was still Abdi. “Mrs. Abdi-Walker,” she whispered to herself, stirring the hot chocolate, throwing dash of whiskey in the pot. Her rings shone, shiny and bright under the warm kitchen lights.

Their children would have the hyphened name, someday. Someday, Jaela mused, touching her flat stomach, thinking back to the time on their balcony during the lantern lighting festival, their future escaping from their lips, now so close, even if someday was… definitely not anytime soon.

She played with the button of the shirt when the door opened, Drake entering, soaked the bone, determined to fix the leaky shed. Jaela turned off the stove and moved the pot to the countertop, whipped cream, whiskey, and two mugs already out. She unbuttoned the top two buttons, gaze steady on Drake who didn’t see her.

She bit her her lip, watching him strip, white shirt clinging to his body, highlighting every taunt muscle. His hair stuck to the sides of his stubbled face, one that felt so good in-between her thighs. He pulled off his shirt, revealing the slick skin, one she worshipped day and night, marked with a variety bruises, compliments of her, every bruise eliciting and moan of gratitude from him. There was only the scar from the bullet, one she kissed every time and willed away. The small trail of hair leading down into the waistband of his jeans was pressed flat against his skin, Jaela’s fingers running down it time and time again. Even when they weren’t making love— out on the trails, while fishing, watching a movie together, or when they went to the store to stock up on food, she sneaking a chance to touch him in a back aisle.

Shifting in her spot, Jaela unbuttoned another button, revealing her cleavage, warmth pooling between her legs as she watched… her husband. Shoes kicked off, and soon the jeans followed suit, landing in a wet pile on top of the shirt, leaving him only in his boxers, hanging low on his hips. Jaela unbuttoned another button at the sight of his bulge underneath the… thin, thin fabric, clinging to his body. He shook his head and then pushed the brown hair back. “Abdi?” He called. “Can you get me a shirt? I fixed the shed and—“

He stopped, eyes falling to her in the kitchen from across the living room. A pulse of heat raced throughout her, seeing how he relaxed, bulge growing— or maybe it was her imagination— eyes taking all of her in. She leaned on the counter, eyebrow raised. The peaks of her nipples were clear through the shirt, buttoned past her breasts— but not showing everything to him. “You look like you could need a dry one.”

“I could,” he growled, stepping closer. “You seem to have one on.”

“Mmm,” she whispered, straightening, stepping back further into the kitchen, steam rising from the pot, hands at a button just above her navel. “I do. But this is for me to wear. I found it first.”

He reached the counter and licked his lips, shirt opening to reveal her navel, one where he lavished kiss after kiss over before diving lower. His cock twitched, starting to harden. Jaela smirked, meeting his heavy, wanting gaze. “I think I need it back.”

The shirt parted perfectly, covering her breasts but leaving enough for him to imagine, eyes going to the valley between her chest every other second. “But…” Jaela said, slow, hands moving lower, to the button just above the apex of her thighs, just enough to reveal her hips, and the beginning curve of her waxed pussy, still bare because she was willing to endure the pain to feel every single touch from his tongue or fingers, dick sliding into her with ease, Drake whispering about how she had the best pussy he’d ever had, forgetting everything that wasn’t uniquely her. “I don’t have anything else on under here.”

“Nothing?”

The button was free, only the top of her mound on display— nothing more. Drake growled, a low and appreciative sound, eyes darkening as they had so many times before the the three weeks of pure heaven. “Nothing. Have to stay warm and dry somehow. So, it’s mine.” He reached his hand out but she turned, returning to the hot chocolate, carefully pouring it between the two mugs— and careful in her motions to keep the shirt carefully placed.

She knew he was watching her every motion, and the idea of his hungry gaze just made her wetter, the anticipation of him fucking her almost too much to keep this game going. But, she poured whiskey into the mugs. Thunder rumbled, but she didn’t miss the sound of his boxers landing on the tile, or his footsteps approaching from behind. She hummed again, wiggling her ass to the beat, stirring the spiked hot chocolate, and then garnished them with whipped cream. This can was for food. The other was empty— and not from putting it on dessert.

His hands came on either side of her, gripping the countertop. Her breathing hitched, only for a second, feeling water drip around her feet and his hot, hot skin so close to hers, still wet. She took the spoon and squirted some whipped cream on it, not looking behind her and she felt the tip of his cock pressed against her ass. Slowly, deliberately, she brought the spoon to her mouth, flipping it to lick the whipped cream off, Drake hissing as it ran down her tongue, sweet cream on her tastebuds, filling her mouth this his cum did, time and time again.

“You better take that shirt off now before I rip it off you, Walker.” She froze, then swallowed the whipped cream, dropping the spoon, it clattering to the floor. Drake smirked, and used one hand to play with the ends of her hair. “You gonna pick that up? I didn’t drop it.”

“You just want to see my ass.” A tug on her hair, lips at her ear.

“I want to see all of you. Pick it up. Now.” He released her and stepped back. Jaela spared a glance to his cock, stiff and fully hard, ready for her.

She licked her own lips and bent over, giving into his wishes. He hissed between his teeth, hand going to his cock, eyes only looking at her. “Fuck…” She retrieved the spoon, standing up at just a slow pace, and turned around, finally unbuttoning the last button, body nearly on fully display for him.

Like so many times before, locked away from the world and everything that tried to pull them apart, they came together in a fury of kisses. Drake gripped her breasts, pushing the shirt off her shoulders, rolling her nipples with expert care. Her lower back pressed against the counter top and she early stroked him, thumb circling the head of his cock with every stroke, quiet, happy moans shared between the two, familiar with each others touch— and never tiring of it.

Before too long, after neck kisses and creating two more bruises on Drake, he lowered his head to her left breast, capturing a nipple between his lips, tongue dancing around the delicate skin, flicking the nipple, while his hand slipped between her legs and applied gentle pressure to her clit, small, teasing circles that urged for more.

She circled her own hips, head thrown back, gipping the countertop, his name slipping through the sounds of the storm. It didn’t take long— already riled from fucking in the shed and from teasing him— for her to come undone, chest heaving against his mouth when she came from his fingers, walls clenching around the two that slipped in, Drake whispering, “Good girl,” in her ear when he came up, tasting her from his fingers, then kissing her, tilting her chin up.

They kissed, moving to a counter without anything on it. He held her close in his arm, lips barely leaving hers as he opened a door, opened box of condoms in it. Jaela smiled as he put one on, tossing the foil to the floor. “And you thought I was joking when I said we needed a box in every room,” she whispered against his lips.

Drake chuckled, hand returning to her side, lips parting. “I should have learned a long time ago to not underestimate you, Abdi.”

Jaela grinned, left hand on his chest. “First rule of being a husband. Your wife is right. Now…” She went on her toes to whisper in his ear, “How do you want to take me?”

“Turn around,” he said huskily, and Jaela listened, Drake wasting no time to enter her. First, he held her hips, then, one hand slid up her back, over the shirt to reach around to squeeze a breast. He kissed the side of her neck bringing her back to his chest, hand gentle on the front of her neck, fingertips tilting her chin up, their eyes locked on each other, love overpowering and demanding and wordless.

He was at first quick with his thrusts, long and hard— like she always begged for— but as the storm raged, their eyes only locked on each others, bodies so close, honeymoon winding down, he slowed, then stopped, still in the same position, cock against her back. “Why’d you stop?” She murmured, missing the sensation of him stretching her, but also… something was perfect about the moment, in his embrace.

“To do this,” he softly said, separating from her. He slid off the shirt, it falling at their feet. Then, he scooped her up into his arms. She rested her head against his shoulder, arms around his neck, as he turned off the kitchen light, and went to the living room, in front of the fireplace burning, cackling with warmth, an assortment of blankets and pillows already laid over the rug, both of them finding making love in this spot the best on day three. It was also a prime nap spot.

But, he set her down and then lowered himself into her, kissing her at the same time as their hips met. “I love you,” Jaela whispered between the kisses, arms around his back as he set a slow and tender pace, Jaela feeling everything. Every inch, every time he pulled out, every time he entered her again, stretching her— every ounce of his love that knew no bounds, yet was shown through his physical affection.

“I love you so… so… much, Jaela. You’re my wife. I’m always going to love you.”

“Me too,” she sighed, keeping his gaze, lips grazing each other, the sounds of the fire, skin on skin, her slick core, and the outside all blending together. “I’ll never stop. I can’t. You’re my everything. Everything. Past, present, f-future…fuck, I’m going to—“

“Come for me baby, come for me,” Drake urged, circling her clit. “Look me in the eyes when you come—“

Jaela urgently met his hips with hers, nails dragging down his skin. He increased his tempo in the slightest, and she lost herself to his eyes, so warm and full of love and desire and care, as she came, whispering his name and words of love through her shudders, waves of pleasure crashing through her— and him, seconds later, lips coming to hers as he came in the condom.

They didn’t move, still looking at each other, smiles on their faces, bodies against each other, holding them close, breathing in time with their heartbeats, beating against each other. “I love you,” they said together and then Drake pulled out, kissing her forehead.

Jaela pretend pouted when he stood up, pulling a blanket around her. “No cuddling?”

He grinned, shaking his head. “Let me get this off. Then get us that… hot chocolate you made. Though, no guarantees on if the name is still true.” Jaela sat up, blanket around her shoulders, a post-sex bliss smile on her lips. Drake returned a minute later. The hot chocolate was lukewarm, but Jaela didn’t mind as she leaned her back against Drake’s chest, whiskey warm down her throat. Drake tightened the blanket around them, chin on the top of her head.

They sat like that, watching the fire in quiet, occasionally words filling the space, but— for the most part— it was peaceful, just feeling each others warmth and comfort, no conversation needed to convey their love, their peace— at last.

The storm passed, and Jaela was gently shook awake by Drake. “Hmm?” She mumbled, stretching against his chest. “How long was I asleep? Is it morning?”

Drake laughed, brushing hair out of her face. “Just for a half hour or so. I was about to carry you to bed but…” He held up his phone, seeing a flurry of texts from Olivia. Jaela blinked the sleep away, instantly, a smile growing on her face. She gripped his thigh, reading the messages. Then, Liam’s name popped up and Drake switched to that conversation, Jaela’s heart soaring at the simple message.

She said yes.

“Again.”

“Liv—“

“I said again!”

Jaela rolled her eyes at Drake and Olivia’s bickering over him using hand sanitizer again before holding Diavolos, the tiny bundle in her arms. Drake sighed and applied more hand sanitizer. “Now sit down. With a pillow.”

“You know I have a nephew right? I can hold a baby.”

“Not this little,” she huffed, but Drake complied, sitting on a the couch, pillow under his arm. Then, Olivia carefully set the bundle in his arms. It warmed Jaela’s heart to see Drake with a tiny baby. Olivia tightened her robe and then sat next to him, fussing over the blanket. Drake looked up to Jaela, a smile on his lips. She returned it from across the room, and then looked up when Liam returned to her, holding Leo— the future King— in his arms after a diaper change.

They were three days old, the country in a celebration over the twins birth. Liam and Olivia weren’t even married a year and the country had its next generation, two at once, in a sudden whirlwind, the details of the pregnancy limited to the public. Of course, Drake and Jaela knew about the twins after the first trimester— they even helped paint the nursery for them— anything to support and love their friends growing family.

The three days were a flurry of activity with meetings and ignoring the press about the details of the heirs, but Jaela was finally glad that her and Drake could finally— finally— visit them and see the babies that Jaela felt kick here and there. Most of all, she was glad to see Liam so happy. Even happier than his wedding day, fatherhood shining on him like a star, smile never leaving, even if they cried at the same time.

“Do you want to hold him?” Liam asked, sitting next to her. Leo was asleep, little hands curled into fists. Jaela’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“I… hold him?”

“Of course, you’re his… godmother… after all,” Liam said, smiling sheepishly. Jaela blinked a few times, jaw dropped. Drake looked her way, surprised too.

“I…”

“I mean, if you want,” Liam said quickly. “We… Liv and I want you and Drake to be Leo’s godparents.”

“What about…”

“Leo’ll have Diavolos. You two have done more than he has so…” Jaela looked into his eyes, deep, trying to find an answer, a real reason. But, there was nothing hidden in those blue eyes. In the past year and some odd months, they’d been through a lot—so much— and yet, the pain of the past melted away with ease, easing from former lovers to friends with relative ease, making the country stronger every step of the way. And, of course, celebrating with Liam about his children, the life he always wanted— a family, and a real one at that. And now, it was here. And… despite it all, despite their shared pain and grief and the chance to become a family vanquished with one choice, one mutual decision, Liam was happier than ever, wanting Drake and Jaela to forever be a part of his children’s lives.

Jaela grinned. “Of course we will. And… and of course I want to hold him. It’ll be nice holding a baby that isn’t some strangers, as cute as they are.”

Liam smiled back and carefully set his son into her arms. Jaela’s eyes widened, feeling how light he was. And how small. She couldn’t remember the last time she held a newborn this young, if ever. She never really held babies much, only since becoming a Duchess did parents want a photo op here and there, but the baby was big, and animated, and not so delicate and tiny and….

Liam chuckled, adjusting her elbow and Leo’s head, setting a pillow under her arm. “Relax, Jaela, you won’t hurt him. You’ve never held a baby this little, huh?” Jaela didn’t look at Liam, just down at the baby, the future King, her Godson… who already looked so much like his father. She gulped, a nervousness twisting in her stomach. Would our baby have looked like… no, don’t think like that….

Jaela looked into Liam’s eyes, a faint smile on her lips. “He’s beautiful. Diavolos too.” She focused her attention to the tiny bundle, moving her one hand to touch his hand, then to stroke his soft cheek. She sometimes thought of the abortion, of her pregnancy, the sonogram carefully tucked in her nightstand drawer. She didn’t want to say the next thought in her mind, but…. “Do you ever think of how different our lives could have been?” She whispered, Leo yawning, opening his eyes for a moment— blue, just like Liam’s— before shutting them again. Their child definitely wouldn’t have had that eye color.

Liam set a hand on her back, Drake and Olivia quiet on the other couch. Jaela glanced to Drake and looked away, clearing his throat. Olivia knew about the abortion, of what happened— of everything— and she fussed over how Drake was holding Diavolos again. “Not too often,” he said, voice low. “But… sometimes.”

“When I do,” she admitted. She barely told Drake about these visions of what could have been; their dining room fit with a high chair, one of the guest rooms a nursery, sleep deprived from a crying baby, and not because of Drake’s body, but she sometimes did, maybe when a little too wine drunk, Drake always calming her down in the occasional bursts of guilt. Maybe she’d be with Liam, unhappy. Maybe she wouldn’t, Drake helping raise this child that wasn’t his, switching weekends and weekdays with Liam to co-parent. There were a million possibilities. But there was one thing that was never a doubt. “I… when I do, I know that you’d never be as happy as you are right now, Liam. You’re glowing. These babies… they were always meant to be here, to be your children.”

Leo squirmed and Jaela gasped, Liam laughing quietly. “Babies move, Jaela, you know that, right?”

“But he’s like three days old!”

Liam rolled his eyes and carefully took Leo from her, sitting back, completely relaxed and such a natural, already. Jaela leaned to the side, putting her finger into Leo’s palm, the newborn gently clasping his small hand around hers. She smiled, meeting Liam’s eyes, happy for the quiet confession. “But… yeah, I do too. And… you’re right. We wouldn’t be happy. None of us would. Not even Drake and Liv, though…”

“You did not just compare my child— your superior— to a Chihuahua which is basically a fucking cat, but worse and—“

“He’s small! That’s all I’m saying!”

“Ugh, you’re lucky this one isn’t your godson. Or the king. I’d make sure he’d have your head if you said that to Leo. They are part Nevrakis, after all.” Olivia took her son back, glaring at Drake who shook his head at Jaela, Liam and her giggling.

“Not unexpected, but… yeah… we wouldn’t be happy,” Liam finished and looked down at his son with a warmth and love Jaela never saw before. A man who got his wish, his dream: a family. A real one, at that. One with a woman who loved him and only him with the fierceness that no one could match. One with not one, but two children at once, both healthy and perfect and planned and wanted from the moment they were conceived, just a month after their marriage, waiting no more. One where he could look back and the past and want for nothing from it, only wanting the present, currently a small bundle in his arms, sound asleep and welcomed into the world with more love than he could ever know right now.

Liam’s dreams, all coming true. His true happiness. His true passion. Everything he deserved. Jaela removed her hand from Leo’s grasp and she kissed Liam’s cheek, smiling. He looked up from his son, almost as if he was snapping out of a daze. “Hmm?”

“This is the happiest I’ve ever seen you, Liam. Ever.”

“This is the happiest I’ve ever been,” he admitted, smile wide and her heart expanded five times. She didn’t break him completely. He didn’t need her for his happiness. He just needed his family.

The rest of the visit involved Olivia and Drake bickering some more, but she eventually let him hold Leo while Jaela held Diavolos, the two sitting next to each other on the couch. Jaela loved watching him with the babies, though, she imagined she was just as awkward, trying to figure out how to hold them, never quite getting comfortable, but comfortable enough. They posed for a picture together, heads touching.

Olivia and Liam looked at the photo while Drake bounced a squirming Leo, matching, knowing smiles on their lips. Drake and Jaela raised their eyebrows, glancing at each other. “What’s that look you two…” Drake said, cautious.

“Just…” Olivia showed them the picture. They both looked a little awkward holding them, but even Drake was smiling, and he barely did for pictures that weren’t of just them, taken in privacy. “Never seen you smile this much, Drake.” He flushed, glancing away.

Jaela bit her lip, a warmth coming to her cheeks, too. Liam and Olivia looked at one another again, a question clearly in the air, both debating on who should ask. Drake’s knee tapped hers and she tapped it back, and he looked at her, red faced. However, Jaela offered a smile and he relaxed, still just as red. “Are…” Liam started, then tried again. “Are you two thinking of starting a family soon? You two looked like naturals.”

“Please,” Jaela said, rolling her eyes. “Don’t lie, we’re awkward.” Nobody said anything after her and she gulped, Liam and Olivia clearly curious for an answer. “But uh… we— we haven’t discussed when we want to start trying….”

“Fair enough,” Olivia said, after the two of them looked at Drake. Jaela missed his expression, hair blocking his face. “Now, it’s probably time to feed these two so… and I don’t want to scare you off from not having children, so…”

Drake and Jaela willingly gave the twins to their parents, Olivia settling in the bed, Liam by her side, kissing her forehead, as they left hand in hand, her heart lighter than ever before. Drake was quiet on their drive back to their duchy, driving carefully, not really responding to Jaela’s comments, agreeing that Liam and Liv were both glowing and that the twins were small, like a Chihuahua, but maybe he shouldn’t have told Olivia that three days after giving birth and hours of labor. But, otherwise, he seemed quiet. Pensive, almost. It wasn’t until they parked, getting out, that it hit her.

Gladys greeted them, and she tugged on his hand before he headed towards the doors. “Yeah?”

“It’s a nice day. I want to go on a walk. Come with me?”

“Always,” he said. They walked in silence, both quiet, just listening to the sounds of their land, birds and water and wind and everything she didn’t know she needed in life, or even wanted, until she fell in love with Drake Walker— her husband, currently too quiet for her liking.

They paused where he built them a swing, one of the first projects he did once they were married. She sat and he joined, both swinging it as they had done so many times before, hands entwined. She said nothing at first, thinking of how to ask him. How to ask why he was so quiet. Why he turned so red at the mention of when they would start trying for children, a conversation they hadn’t revisited since the first lantern festival.

Finally, she said the words she wanted answers to, heart fluttering— taking her by surprise. “Did… did you get quiet when they asked about us having kids because… because you want to start trying soon? And… and don’t know how to ask me… or?”

Drake squeezed her hand, stopping the swing, running a free hand through his hair. “I… I… maybe,” he mumbled, looking down to her now, chestnut eyes warm and curious, the red back in his cheeks. Her stomach flipped and she touched it, Drake following her hand.

“You… you can tell me anything, you know.”

“I know, I know but…” he stroked her cheek, tracing her lips when he spoke. “With everything you’ve been through, and how you’re still… working through everything with the abortion—”

“I’m good, I swear. I’ve been out of counseling for a few months now.”

Drake smiled and kissed her forehead. “I know. I’m proud. You’ve come so far. But… I don’t know how to say that… that I’ve been wanting that ‘someday’ for children to be a lot closer than I think we both expected,” he paused, lowering his gaze to her abdomen… then touched it, her stomach flipping all over again, as his hand rested there. “For… for a while now.”

Jaela’s breath hitched, eyes widening. “How long?” They were nearly, always safe. Always used a condom and for the few times they didn’t— and if he wasn’t sure if he pulled out in time—, well, she picked up a morning after pill. One time she didn’t, but her period started the next morning and she didn’t know that she could feel relief like that ever again.

Drake gulped and she knew he was nervous about this confession, his truth. But, she wanted to know. She had to. They were going on two years of marriage in a few months. She always laughed it off when the older noble women would wonder why she wasn’t pregnant, or ask if she was trying for a child when she got water to take a break from whiskey and bubbly. It was too funny to her, these women trying to nose their way into her business— especially when she clearly had been drinking.

She knew the conversation was due to come up sometime soon, a real one, so she had to know how much he longed for their own little family. “Um… about six months into our marriage,” he confessed, entire face bright red.

Jaela’s mind went blank— that long?— as she stared at him for a few seconds. Almost a year of longing to have a child with her, the desire trapped in his mind, too nervous to tell her. Yet, as terrifying as the thought was at first, Jaela calmed and brought his forehead to hers, a smile on her lips. She wasn’t ready to start trying. He had to know that. But…

“Thank you for telling me. I didn’t know you wanted to be a dad so soon.”

Drake sighed. “Me either, until I married you and… and I couldn’t stop thinking about how you’d be with our child. How you’d love them and… just… you have no idea how badly I wanted to tell you that I want our someday to be… soon. And seeing you with the twins today… I just wanted to take you home and tell you that I wanted to start trying, now. But… but I can’t do that to you. Or expect you to even…”

Jaela smiled and kissed him, the swinging resuming. “I don’t know when I want to start trying,” she confessed. “And I don’t want to start talking about it yet. I don’t think I’m there yet, you’re right. I’m not sure when I’ll be, to be honest, even if it did warm my heart to see you holding them today. You… you definitely looked like a dad.” They separated, Drake wrapping an arm around her. She rested her head on his shoulder, both soaking in the view and the gentle touch of the other. “But…” How he looked with a child, in that photo, so happy. Like a dad. Like he was ready. Like the amazing father she thought he would be, thinking of how he’d play with their child and look at them like they were his world, too. “I think that someday is going to happen sooner than we thought, too.”

“Really?” He asked, perking up, voice higher than usual. Jaela giggled, hand on his chest, his heart beating so, so fast. Oh, he wanted a baby and looking up at him, Jaela knew that someday was… someday soon. How could she deny her own excitement at his joy? At the mere mention of even trying for a baby, not even talking about what would happen when they arrived?

“I promise. The next time I see a plus sign on a pregnancy test… well, I won’t be in a bathroom at JFK and think my world’s come crashing down. My world will have just begun.”

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, Pixelberry does.

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