#SHE GETS BETTER this entire thing with Maggie is that She Gets Better.

[bluejaybytes]

Okay last OC post I've already indulged myself enough today with my many many OC essays. Anyways Maggie can't dream </3 Part of her weirdass soul is that like... the reconnection of both halves (It wasn't equal halves, about 2/3rds of her soul went into Margaret, the other third was the ghost-of-a-ghost left behind) didn't really... work... properly. That's the cause of her worsening issues, both portions of her soul are constantly freaking out (Not to mention that souls grow over time when alive, the piece that made up Margaret is bigger than it was when Maggie died). Part of that is in her ability to dream, or lack thereof. She's only able to dream in memories, typically getting either the memory of her murder (Horrifying, violent, and extremely traumatic), or random memories of Margaret's life (While not violent, this is still really horrifying to Maggie, because this essentially proves that Margaret was her own person, and therefore she feels like someone died to bring her back to life)

[digirainebow]

i didn't think jacob would be arguing with olivia, wanting it almost as much as her. what the hell. i expected the self defeated, taking one for the team attitude but actively needing it like her? when he had been trying to stop her all night? i feel like i've been blasted by a buckshot

[poptartmochi]

the maggie gioia thoughts strike yet Again 🤏🏻🕶️🤨

[halemerry]

I’m doing it. I’m breaking down the Scene. You know the one. I've been tearing it apart for a week straight now in discord and figured I should leave my observations here. So, uh, yeah, this one's a big one so buckle up folks!

I want to start with the build up because I can never leave well enough alone and because I think the framing we have coming into this sequence is important. We start with the camera on Mr. Acts of Service himself. Crowley, after banishing Muriel, starts cleaning up the bookshop. The music playing is the soft slow rendition of the opening theme. He is returning this space to the status quo, resetting back to normal, fully intending to do this for Aziraphale before dragging him out to the Ritz, falling back on their typical pattern of going out together for food and drink.

Now in a moment he's going to get interrupted by Nina and Maggie but before we get there I want to take a second to draw attention to the area of the bookshop that Crowley will be operating in for the bulk of this. This space is one we very frequently see Aziraphale in. It's his desk behind the till - a spot linked intrinsically to him, even down to the fact that it's located on the east side of the shop. The windows are throwing beams of light onto Aziraphale's chair and onto the same spot Crowley will stand during The Scene. This lighting choice will not change from now until our last shots in the bookshop and the way the blocking plays around these sunbeams is very aware (as Good Omens nearly always is) of exactly where they will land.

Nina and Maggie enter the scene to have a chat about boundaries and communication. Maggie, his own mirror, tells him flat out that he can't play with their lives like that. Maggie and Nina then both tell him that he and Aziraphale need to talk. And I don’t think they're wrong, exactly, but I do think that Aziraphale and Crowley are actually a lot better at communicating in general than they are in these following high stakes scenes. But that's some meta for later - for now I want to just focus on the particular way Crowley's been primed for the conversation he and Az are about to have. Nina in particular does something really interesting. She does exactly what we as the audience did when we first saw Nina and Maggie: she mistakenly projects herself onto Crowley. She says he has trust issues because she does and in the process accidentally frames the core of their problem as Crowley needing to allow himself to trust Aziraphale, a thing that he actively already does and has done for quite some time and has been shown to us several times throughout the two seasons.

Now the build up we get for Aziraphale going into this conversation is very small. By which I mean practically non-existent. We start at the end of his conversation with the Metatron who tells him to go tell his friend the good news - which notably does not imply that the news is something that would require Crowley to make a choice - and sends Aziraphale on his way. Now the most crucial thing in this sequence, to me, is the expressions Aziraphale makes when he thinks the Metatron isn't looking at him. While polite and smiley when engaged with him, Az's expression falls as soon as he doesn't have eyes on him. Something is wrong and Aziraphale knows it.

Aziraphale enters the shop. The doorway is dark and shadowy and he hasn't composed himself yet - though he does give Nina and Maggie a little smile as they leave. Then, as soon as they're not looking at him, but before he approaches Crowley, the tension is back.

He hesitates, then smiles and approaches Crowley. Crowley, planted dead center in that beam of light from earlier, takes off his glasses and promptly starts nervously rambling. The music cuts off here entirely, giving us nothing to focus on but the noises coming from our lead actors, the background noise from the street, and the ticking of the clock in the background. Aziraphale puts up his hands like he's going to interrupt then lowers them again as Crowley keeps talking, his face shifting into this helpless sort of smitten look.

Now look at the light and how it hits the bookshelves behind Crowley as he tries to get his confession going. It's in the shape of a wing. Keep an eye on that - when the camera chooses to show us this one wing of light is important.

Aziraphale then interrupts and there are two things I want to draw attention to here as Aziraphale fumbles for words. First of all is the fact that he glances in the direction of the door (and the Metatron) at least three times as he's struggling to speak.

Secondly, I want to draw attention to the words Az actually says here. He first echoes the Metatron's earlier statement about good news. He then does not roll into the news itself and instead glances at the door and says the Metatron. He starts rambling about the Metatron to a very confused looking Crowley and evetually talks his way into that the Metatron said something. He then hits a wall again, scrambling to find words and instead of explaining the context of what the Metatron says he lands on Gabriel. His brain latches onto someone obviously on the forefront of both their minds and something vaguely relevant to the news he's about to share. He rambles more about Gabriel's job, glancing once again at the door in the middle of this, still avoiding getting to the actual point or perhaps even synthesizing said point as he goes.

We then cut to what is framed as a flashback. I think it is very notable we only see this as Az is telling it to us. In other words that this is not us witnessing an event happening but us witnessing what Aziraphale is telling Crowley. This sequence is the single scene where the Metatron calls Crowley by name despite actively avoiding it in any real time continuity sequences. He uses it twice here which I think also is the strongest thread in here that tells us that we are seeing what Crowley is being told not necessarily what actually happened.

The instant the idea of restoring Crowley comes up the wing of light behind Crowley loses visibility. Crowley's speechless for a moment so Aziraphale fills the silence, already looking like he wants to cry as he talks about the old days. (I also can't help but to notice that the lights behind Az in this shot look like eyes.) Crowley finally speaks and circles around the beam of light he's been standing in like an object seeking to re-establish a source of gravity. The music cuts back in here with tense drawn out notes.

Crowley talks about how Hell offered him his place back and he turned them down. Aziraphale in turn presses on ideas that we know he doesn't really believe. It's a echo of the bandstand and uses a lot of the same language of that fight - another fight we know features Aziraphale saying things he knows aren't true. By now, we have seen him multiple times this season express he does not want to go back and make it abundantly clear that the side they have made for themselves is important to him. We see him actively calling angels bad and incompetent, contrary to everything he's telling Crowley here. We see him be the one to repetitively remind Crowley that they are on their side and be the one that always draws attention to that first. Yet here he says Heaven is the side of light to Crowley - who by the way is literally framed in light. The frame is telling us outright that Crowley is already Good as he is, while Az's expressions are telling us he knows Heaven isn't.

Aziraphale can't tell him that he did not turn down the job and Crowley does another orbit. The music cuts again. This time, he stops with his back to Az, tilts his head upward and decides to ruin me by invoking God.

Here he is, hearing these awful things that he was sure they had moved on from, hearing these things he has tried for so long and so hard to help them both unlearn. But these sorts of habits and lessons are insidious and he knows that and he himself is even a victim of that himself. I mean, don't get me wrong, he recognizes this is weird, I think, but between his own self worth issues and the stress of the few days they'd had can't work out what exactly is off here. He's confused and lost and just been told, in his mind, that he is not good enough as he is - a thing he has always on some level also believed. Yet he reaches out to the parent that taught him that lesson in the first place for strength and grounds himself with that. He circles back to stand in the beam of light and, with that wing of light finally backlighting him again, he is brave and tries to be enough anyway. He bows his head downward, fully emerging the line of this body in the light and tries again. Because even now, even after that emotional blow, Crowley is an optimist who can't help but to try.

At first Aziraphale can't figure out quite what is going on here. He squints at Crowley and glances at the door again. Crowley meanwhile keeps continually glancing upward, whether at God or to hold back tears or some combination of both. In most of these shots Crowley bisects the room, creating a dark half to his left and a light half to his right.

Crowley says he relies on Aziraphale. Even here, even now when he's just hurt him. Because it is the truth. Because Aziraphale makes him feel less alone. Because Aziraphale proves to him that no matter how fucked the system is that there is still good in the world, even if he doesn't always agree with it.

It is only once there is no doubt what Crowley is doing that Aziraphale starts shaking his head in very small quick shakes. He looks panicked even as they both physically draw closer to each other. It's huge not here, not like this energy to me. Aziraphale asks Crowley to come with to help him run Heaven. This is the point where Crowley starts tearing up.

Crowley then says you can't leave this bookshop, trying to say you can't leave me. Az, nearly in tears himself, says 'oh Crowley. Nothing lasts forever' as a means to convey that the books aren't what is important here. Crowley, naturally, hears 'including us.'

Crowley looks down again, quietly agrees, and puts on his glasses, covering himself up again. He then wishes Aziraphale good luck and the music starts up again, still tense but sorrowful now. He leaves the light and heads to the door. Az can't help but to call after him. Please wait. And Crowley can't help but to listen. It's worth noting here that even as he rotates toward the north door, the light still gently hits his face. The shots in general are darker though. He's moved away from the light but it still can't help but to touch him.

"Come with me," says Aziraphale and then after a pause adds "To Heaven." Aziraphale, looking heartbroken, starts one of two 'I' statements he will struggle around in the next few moments. He lands on I need. Which. I want to pause there a moment because holy shit. That is not something they say out loud either. Az looks at him a moment, visibly struggling before he says his dialogue about Crowley not understanding his offer. Like he's said something he didn't mean to and needs to cover it up or like he can't handle the silence after such an honest statement. And on some level he's not wrong there. Because Crowley doesn't understand what Aziraphale is trying to say. But Aziraphale doesn't understand the way Crowley is reading it to course correct either.

Crowley says that he does understand and that he understands better than Aziraphale does. And he also isn't wrong either, from his perspective. Because he does understand the implications behind the offer theoretically in play here. Because he does know that the position Aziraphale is presenting him is not going to result in the outcome Aziraphale is presenting him with. There are some things you can't undo just like memories slipping through the cracks.

Az says there's nothing more to say, trying to dismiss Crowley despite having been the one to pull him to a stop moments ago. He puts on a fake polite smile for a beat but then his is jaw sets, mouth working as his eyes drop - unable to look Crowley in the eye.

Crowley tells him to listen as the music fades out and points upward. Aziraphale humors this, glancing up a few times before looking frustrated, saying he can't hear anything. The light from the window shines down in his direction without actually touching him. Crowley tells him "That's the point. No nightingales." The shot he's on here is a dark one without even any of the book shops pillars visible in it to brighten the shot.

Aziraphale looks frozen a moment here and then as Crowley calls him an idiot and says 'we could have been us' his face completely crumbles. He rapidly glances away to hide his face and Crowley moves and reaches to pull him back. They're both distraught. Az is clearly already holding back tears even before Crowley touches him. The angle of this shot frames Aziraphale in the light of the window. For the first time in this whole sequence Aziraphale is in the light, literally being physically pulled into it by Crowley.

The music swells, playing a similar theme to the one that plays as the Pillars of Creation are formed at the start of the season. They shift back and forth, the camera focusing on Aziraphale's face and hands. His hands move uncertainly, trying to reach out even as he's struggling emotionally. He is visibly shaking but he crucially does not pull away, not even a little.

His hands settle on Crowley's back, right where his wings would be, and for a brief moment gets taller, like he's allowing himself to lean into the kiss. They press together tightly, their mutual gravity sending them crashing together before they break apart. When they do Aziraphale looks devastated and his eyes move pretty much instantly to look out the window where the Metatron would be.

Crowley's glasses make him harder to read here, but he looks at Aziraphale like a man awaiting judgement in a trial he knows he's already lost. He's sad too, but as always, is waiting for Aziraphale's reaction. Because he might push continually at he boundaries of them as a unit but he has always let Aziraphale decide where to set them in stone.

Az fumbles over words here. He gets stuck on "I" here and lets it hang in the air. He then visibly thinks his words over, his expression slowly filling with resolve as he comes to some sort of conclusion. Then, like it's difficult to say, he falls back into old coded language. "I forgive you." A thing he has always said in response to things that he agrees with but cannot or should not allow himself to have.

Crowley sighs and tells him not to bother, refusing to fall into the old pattern that Aziraphale has. He is setting a boundary, for once, and even if it is one born from misunderstanding I am proud of him for being able to. He turns away and leaves. And this is where Az seems most in danger of falling apart. His lips move as Crowley goes, forming the start of a 'no' after him. He draws back from the door and turns his body away from it, physically distancing himself from anything that would feel like following Crowley. Except he can't help himself. With shaking hands he reaches up to touch his lips. He presses in, like he's trying to recreate the pressure and then his jaw works a moment and his expression sets as resolved.

The Metatron enters through the front door, which is framed in dark lighting. Aziraphale looks panicked and immediately turns his whole body away from him to hide his face while he collects himself.

He turns around after a beat and the Metatron asks 'how did he take it?' This is an odd question that only sort of half fits the fact that we are meant to believe at this point - that Aziraphale should be obtaining a yes or no from Crowley. It's not asking Crowley's choice at all. It's like the Metatron assumed a different conversation had happened or perhaps that he already knew the answer.

Aziraphale says he took it badly and the Metatron just takes a moment to direct a few casual digs at Crowley. He references him being stubborn and too curious - all the while avoiding the use of this name. At this point Az's eyes are locked out the window in the direction Crowley vanished to. The Metatron asks if he's ready to start despite originally having promised Az time to think over his answer. Aziraphale keeps glancing out the window.

For a moment he cracks, stepping away from the Metatron and back toward the east side of the bookshop. For the only time in this whole sequence he steps right into the sunbeam Crowley started in. It notably never illuminates his face as he mentions the issue of his bookshop (a statement absolutely not about the bookshop).

The Metatron explains Muriel will take care of it. Aziraphale looks back out the window with the start of an objection.

The Metatron interrupts him asking if there's anything he needs to take with him. Az's mouth takes a moment to try and form words. He steps out of the light again, starts to object, and then cuts off, eyes back to the window. Then his expression shifts again, settling in another state of resolve before he puts on his falsely polite face and follows the Metatron out.

As they leave the shop we cut back to Crowley. Crowley, who could've left to go handle his own emotions, did not leave. Instead he planted himself there, nice and noticeable. Like he wanted Aziraphale to see and know that he still has a choice. Like he needs to see Aziraphale make that choice for himself. Like he can't quite bring himself to be the one to close that last door. He stands there, framed by light, and doesn't move until the doors to the elevator to Heaven close behind Aziraphale. He then glances at Nina and Maggie and then gets in the Bentley, which starts playing the song that we now know he knows is supposed to be theirs. He turns off the music and drives away.

So there's a lot in these sequences and most of it probably won't help us figure out exactly what comes next, but there are definite signs that all is not as it's being presented to us. Whether he's actively lying or not, something is wrong that Aziraphale either can't or won't talk about frankly with Crowley. I suspect, whether it's under stress from a literal threat or because he believes that it is the safest option for them, that Aziraphale is doing all of this to protect Crowley.

There are also all sorts of signals here, especially in the lights, that gesture at the fact their togetherness is a net good. Together they are balanced and stronger for it and likely more in alignment with the Ineffable Plan. And, more importantly than that, that said togetherness is so clearly what they both want. They have loved each other longer than anything alive has ever loved anyone and none of this changes that. They both are saying that in their own ways here, even if those ways are not ones the other is particularly good at picking up and I for one cannot wait to get to see the payoff of them learning how to.

[vivalas-vega]

unexpected / bradley 'rooster' bradshaw x reader

howdy y'all - we've got another rooster fic. i feel i've neglected this man too much on my blog and wanna start writing for him more so here we are with a fleet week fic inspired by my own journey onto a navy ship yesterday!!! (the similarities between my fic and the real deal start and end with waiting in line. my guide was cute but let's just say he was no bradley bradshaw). it was very cool and educational and if your city does fleet week i highly recommend checking it out! this fic will have maybe three parts total. anyways hope you enjoy :)

unexpected / bradley 'rooster' bradshaw x reader

follow my taglist blog and turn on notifications to be updated @vegaslibrary

word count: 3.2k

warnings: slight language, naval inaccuracies!! (even tho I just did my own fleet week tour I still don't know shit, I'm just a girl)

The ocean breeze filtered through your hair as you stood off to the side, eyes fixated on the impressive carriers in front of you. The sun felt hot on your skin and excitement was buzzing through your veins as you listened to your best friend in your ear… well, half-listened.

“We’re brunching! Come on, meet us at Malibu Farm,” Maggie said and you sighed.

“I told you it’s Fleet Week, I’m already down here,” you replied and you could feel her eyes roll on the other side of the phone.

“I would be supportive if you were trying to bag one of those Navy hotties but come on… bottomless mimosas and all the dirt on Stephanie’s breakup are better than some boats,” she said.

“I will see you for drinks tonight,” was all you replied before hanging up. You’d tried (very unsuccessfully) to convince some of your friends to come with you, telling them about how cool these carriers were and how you only got the chance to see them up close and personal once a year but they had zero interest… you were the only one in your circle who found this sort of thing interesting, and you would have been bummed except for the fact that you were more than okay doing things by yourself.

It wasn’t uncommon for you to go to a concert or a museum solo, you actually enjoyed it… you loved hanging out with your friends but it was nice to not be tied to what the majority of the group wanted to do (or didn’t want to do), and as you waited in line you were actually a little glad none of them had taken you up on your offer. If Maggie were here she’d be ogling the cute officer who appeared to be getting ready to take your group on board, and she’d spend the whole tour trying to flirt with him instead of listening to what he had to say. 

You were content to wait in line as long as it took, taking in the beautiful ships to your left before switching to people watching, you knew this week drew all kinds of visitors and you found it entertaining to see such an eclectic mix of people all in one space… there were the obvious ex-Navy types, returning to their roots and reliving the glory days, there were couples who looked a little out of their element but excited for something new to do as a date, and families with kids… you even spotted an entire elementary class on a field trip. Spare your friend group, most people were more than interested in the opportunity to spend a day aboard multi-million dollar vessels and you were one of them.

Across the way Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw was chatting with his teammates about how much they wanted today to be over… it wasn’t that he hated Fleet Week, because he did enjoy it for about the first hour, but after that it became tiresome to give the same spiel over and over and over. They’d all tried to get out of it, Natasha had even gone so far as trying to manifest a deployment, but according to the higher ups there was no excuse for the Navy’s best and brightest to not make an appearance at an event happening so close to their home base. 

But then he saw you and he couldn’t help but smile as he watched you seem so enamored by everything around you… you didn’t hold an ounce of annoyance over the fact you’d been standing in that same spot going on half an hour now, something he’d seen from other visitors a dozen times already, and when a gust of wind kicked up your hair and sent it fluttering around your face you gave a half hearted attempt to tame it, but really you were just enjoying the breeze and the sun on your skin and he knew he had to know your name. He watched Jake getting ready to take your group aboard and he had to know if you’d abandon the formal tour in favor of letting him take you up instead.

You were eavesdropping on a conversation between a sailor and a kid just ahead of you, a soft smile on your lips as you listened to just how excited both parties were to be talking about the ship in front of you and you were so focused on them that you didn’t notice a person approaching you, not until his shadow cast across your face and when you turned you saw a man who nearly knocked the wind out of you… he was tall and solid, arms straining against the short sleeves of his khaki uniform and you thought that no one should look good in that color yet here he was proving you wrong. His golden brown waves glistened in the direct sunlight and he had a slight smirk beneath a mustache that you really wanted to hate, but you really didn’t… he was handsome, potentially one of the most handsome men you’d ever seen, and here he was standing directly in front of you and you looked up at him expectantly, waiting for him to say something.

“Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw, ma’am,” he introduced, extending his hand for you to shake which you did as you gave him your name and a smile. “What brings you out today?”

“A bizarre fascination with ships the size of planets,” you replied and he laughed. It was warm and a little rough around the edges, much like you’d appraised him to be in your short interaction, and you wanted to hear it again.

“Well, my day wrapped up not too long ago and I couldn’t help but notice you waiting for a tour…” he started, leaning in slightly with a mischievous look on his face as if he was about to tell you a secret, “and between you and me, your tour guide is a dud.” he finished and you looked towards the man, tall, blonde and oozing charisma and you had a feeling Bradley was lying to you as you watched him charm the entirety of your group with one sentence… but you weren’t feeling too keen on calling him out on his fib.

“Oh no, is that so?” you replied, disappointment lacing your tone.

“Mmhm,” he hummed. “I think you oughta let me take you up, make sure you get the tour you deserve,” he propositioned and you nodded, a smirk tugging at your lips.

“I think that might be for the best… for the sake of a thorough Navy education and all,” you said and he nodded, gesturing towards the ramp and he held out his hand for you to take as you pulled yourself onto the steep landing. His hand was warm in yours and all-encompassing as he held it and made sure you made it safely before letting it fall back to your side and you were almost a little disappointed when he did.

He led you into the cargo hold, a massive room filled with so many things your eyes had a hard time adjusting at first. You trailed alongside him as he explained everything to you, sparing no detail as he went and you were particularly fascinated by the boat that was rigged to be deployed at a moments notice, positioned right in front of a hatch door, and he told you it was primarily there for search and rescue missions as he rattled off information about how long it takes to get it down into the water and pointed out the crane used to move it around as needed.

You listened with rapt attention as you continued through, you added a quip or a question here and there but mostly you were hanging onto his every word as he pointed out things like their freezer and the gym, and you realized you might have been content to listen to this man read you his grocery list and you had to make a conscious effort to focus on the words themselves and not just the voice that was speaking them. As you made your way up a steep and narrow stairwell, so much so you might have described it closer to a ladder than stairs, he stayed right behind you where he could catch you if you fell and you tried to ignore the fact that his diligence almost made you want to fall.

“There’s a lot up here,” he said as he led you down a hallway lined with doors, “but it’s mostly just bunks and offices. We’re not technically supposed to show you this, but… I won’t tell if you won’t,” he added as he pushed one of the doors open and you pretended to lock your lips and throw away the key as you peeked inside, taking in the modest living quarters with multiple twin beds.

“So, this is where you sleep when you’re deployed?” you asked and he nodded, brow furrowing when you looked at him, clearly skeptical about something as your eyes trailed him top to bottom before returning to the beds in front of you, “how do you even fit?” you followed up and immediately you flushed, not meaning to ask that at all but it was the first thing that popped into your head and it flew out of your mouth before you could stop it.

“Not comfortably, sweetheart,” he replied with a laugh and you smiled softly at the term of endearment as he shut the door and nodded for you to follow. He talked about the photos lining the walls, telling you who was who or what was what in the ones he recognized before you went up another stairwell and before you could walk through the door frame in front of you he placed his hands on your shoulders, stopping you in your tracks.

You turned your head to look at him, an unasked question on your face, and he gave you that addictive smirk of his, “now this is the really fun part that very few people get to see,” he prefaced and you felt anticipation brimming as he kept his hands on you and guided you forward.

“Just breaking all the rules today aren’t you, Lieutenant Bradshaw?” you replied and he wanted to tell you that you could just call him Bradley but one look at the mischief in your eyes told him you knew that… you just liked calling him Lieutenant and he liked hearing it too much to stop you. When you turned your attention forward you were faced with two beautiful jets right in front of you and you faltered for a moment, stunned by the sheer impressiveness of the aircrafts.

“Holy shit,” you muttered, careful of your step as you approached one of them and Bradley tried to commit that look of awe on your features to memory, his heart stuttering at the sight. You instinctively reached a hand out before snapping it back, realizing you probably shouldn’t be touching things with price tags you couldn’t comprehend.

He chuckled, “go ahead, it’s mine so do your worst.” 

He thought you might get whiplash with how quickly you turned to face him, “yours? How have we made it through this whole tour without you mentioning you’re a pilot?”

“Thought I’d keep you on your toes,” he replied as you returned your focus to his jet, hand trailing along the smooth metal as you walked around it.

“I never thought I’d get to see an F/A-18 in person… at least not one that’s active,” you sighed, and now he was certain his heart had stopped in his chest. “Tops out at what, twelve hundred?” you asked and he blinked in surprise, only able to nod in response because he didn’t quite trust his words right now. He knew he liked you as soon as he saw you, so much so he was taking you on his tenth tour of the day when all he’d wanted to do previously was go to the bar, but now he was worried he was in a little over his head as you appreciated his jet, having identified it immediately without any help from him. “God, this is incredible, Bradley,” you said, maybe a little breathless from how excited you were and before you knew it he was disappearing, leaving you standing at the nose with a confused expression.

You laughed when he returned, rolling a ladder to the side of his jet and beckoning you over. He hadn’t anticipated you to know anything about planes, or really have any interest beyond the first minute of being in front of it, but now that he knew otherwise he wanted to show you everything. He held onto your hand as you took each step, trailing right behind you just as he had in the stairwells and when you got to the landing he started pulling the canopy back and you let out another soft gasp.

“Can you get in trouble for this?” you asked, turning to look at him. You knew private tours with high ranking pilots were not standard for Fleet Week, and you also knew this wasn’t an area most people would be allowed in, and you worried for a brief moment what would happen to him if anyone caught you.

He shook his head, “you’re accompanied by a Lieutenant, we’re fine,” he answered, smiling as you leaned over slightly to look inside his cockpit and his heart was thudding in his chest at the sheer wonder in your eyes. He started pointing out all of the controls, telling you what they did and why, and he answered your every question just as he had with the rest of the ship. “Sweetheart, I’ve gotta be honest… I’ve never met anyone who gave a damn about these jets that didn't work in or around them already.” 

You pulled your attention back to him with an incredulous look, “how could they not?” you asked, and you wanted to keep your gaze on those pretty brown eyes that were locked on you, but the novelty hadn’t quite worn off yet and you looked back inside the jet. “I mean… this is next level engineering wrapped up in a pretty package, what’s better than that?” He thought you were beautiful when he saw you standing on your own with your hair blowing in the breeze and the sun kissing your skin, he thought you were beautiful when you laughed at his dumb jokes in the cargo hold, but right now he was certain he’d never seen anything more beautiful than you slightly bent over and leaning into his cockpit as you truly appreciated the one thing he loved most in this world.

“Please let me take you on a date,” he blurted out, unable to stop himself and you looked at him a little surprised. You’d been hoping since he approached you that he’d ask, but you couldn’t help but laugh a little at the unexpected timing.

“Ask me again after the tour,” you replied with a smirk and though it vaguely sounded like rejection he couldn’t help but smile. If you wanted to make him work for it then he absolutely would. You asked him a question about the gauges and he told you exactly what they measured, and when you finally made your way back down the ladder he even let you sit on the second to last step as he wheeled it back to its place.

“Bradley!” you squealed when he whipped it around, hands bracing on the poles on either side of you and you were a little breathless when you were suddenly facing him, looking up at him as his strong hands gripped just above your head as he continued pushing you through the open area.

“Just wanted a better view,” he replied and you flushed at the compliment. Even though it was only two steps he still offered you his hand as you got off and of course you still accepted it, lingering for a moment before dropping it. He took you back through the carrier a different way than you’d came so he could show you absolutely everything, still narrating as he went. Truthfully, there wasn’t much difference on this route than the other but it was longer and he wanted to drag this out. He knew as soon as you stepped off the ship he wouldn’t have any reason to keep you longer than he already had, and he wanted to postpone that moment as long as he could. 

When you entered the now familiar cargo hold you couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed, you didn’t want your time with Bradley to come to an end but it seemed it was inevitable as he led you down the ramp and back onto solid ground. Your eyes were bright when you turned to face him and you still had that smile on that hadn’t seemed to leave your face all day and it was another sight he wanted to commit to memory. You had surprised the hell out of him, turned his boring day around the second he saw you and he knew with certainty he couldn’t get enough of you… and you were in the exact same boat. You knew when you got here today you’d have a good time, that the other man Bradley insisted was a dud still would have given a good tour and you’d have gotten exactly what you came for but the man in front of you exceeded every one of your expectations and then some, and you weren’t looking forward to the moment you had to go back to your car and not have his eyes on you anymore.

“Bradley, that was…” you sighed, “that was incredible, I don’t really know how to thank you for that.”

“Let me take you out,” he replied easily and you flushed, the tour was over and he was wasting no time in asking you out again, and this time you let him. 

You nodded, “I’m free tonight.” His grin was wide as he fished his phone out of his pocket for you to input your number, and you couldn’t help but mirror him when he told you to put your address as well so he could pick you up… if this was anyone else, if you hadn’t just spent the afternoon with him catering to your every query and whim, you would have told him no. You would have said you could meet him somewhere, but you trusted him. The few hours spent together showed you that you could, and that wasn’t lost on Bradley. If you’d said no he wouldn’t have even blinked, he would have suggested something else that made you more comfortable, but you didn’t say no… and that caused his chest to tighten as he looked down at your beautiful smile.

“I’ll pick you up at seven,” he said, leaning in to press a chaste kiss to your cheek and you felt your skin tingling as he pulled away. “Wear something comfortable.”

You nodded, a little curious as to what he could have planned but you could just tell if you asked he wouldn’t say, and you were more than happy to let this man surprise you. “I’ll see you tonight, Bradley.”

“And I’ll be counting down every second.”

[poppadom0912]

Dr Dean Reybold

Warnings: Cancer, chemotherapy, hospitals, evil doctors

Summary: Unfortunately for you, some cancers are genetic. Also unfortunately for you, some doctors don't have good intentions.

A/N: Based on Season 1, episode 5 of Chicago Med (Malignant) and Season 3, episode 10 of Chicago pd (Now I'm God).

So I had this idea towards the beginning of when I first started watching pd and I am not kidding when I say this has been sitting in my drafts for over two years now. I thought I'd finally get to finishing it after a really good day today since the fic I posted like 2 days ago wasn't that nice. Hope you enjoy!!

When your mother died from cancer, it took a toll on your entire family. Everyone was struggling to grieve and the emptiness she left behind was unsettling. Even now, the empty chair at the dining table looked so wrong.

So when you were diagnosed with ovarian cancer seven months ago, you felt extreme deja vu. Life was repeating itself again and nothing good was going to come out of it.

While at work, your patient got a little violent and when you woke up, your dad and Erin were at your bedside. They were in the middle of a case when Hank was suddenly called, being told by Sharon that you were hurt.

Luckily, several tests and scans later, you were perfectly fine, coming out with nothing but a concussion.

Alas, your body seemed to hate you because fast forward two months later and you found yourself in a private doctors office, the man confirming you had ovarian cancer.

Looking your dad in the eyes that night, mustering up everything in you to tell him you had the exact same thing that killed your mother; you could see the world fall apart in his eyes all over again.

From that day on, you did your chemotherapy while going to work. Being a psychiatrist, it didn't entail much physical work and your hours were decreased due to manage your treatment.

But the cancer got worse, that's what your doctor said at least. You probably would've gotten your treatment done at Med since they were renowned for their chemo regimens and it would've been more convenient.

But your doctor was the man that treated your mother. Seven months into your treatment and you found it a little difficult to leave.

*****

So, it was just another day at work.

You near threatened Doctor Charles to allow you to take his place as the psychiatrist for the ED and after lots and lots of convincing, he caved but with the conditions: you took regular breaks, everyone kept an eye on you, don't take such a big load, update him often and not to turn Sharon away when she to check on you.

There was a sudden influx of patients due to a fire and you were finally able to help after Maggie stopped being so annoying very, constantly hovering over you when she wasn't with a patient.

This wasn't anything abnormal - the injured people - but what was weird was the lingering members of firehouse 51 and the arrival of Jay.

In one of the spinning chairs, you pushed yourself over to the group of people huddled at the front desk, curious to what was up and needing to do something after sitting duck for half an hour now.

"Oooh, what's this?" You looked at the zip lock bag in wonder, only opening it when Jay gave you the okay, nodding his head with a smile at your presentable face.

The last time he saw you, you were a struggling mess at your dad's having come back from getting treatment.

After explaining briefly, you gladly opened the bag and scanned the items. While flicking through receipts, you could hear Erin stop in front of you, letting the three of you know it was looking like a suicide. Giving you and Erin some time, Jay and Kelly gave their goodbyes and went back to their respective jobs.

"You look much better." Erin looked you up and down, noticing that your skin was still quite pale, the bags under your eyes were still there even with the makeup and you were wearing your usual bandana, a staple since the hair loss started kicking in.

"Well thank you very much." You said truthfully despite some part of you believing that she was lying and you looked worse than you did the last time she visited you. "How are you?"

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?" Erin asked, smiling as she watched you skim over the few items she had no interest in. "I'm fine, everyone's fine. This seems pretty simple which is good, less work for us."

You hummed nonchalantly, her words going through one ear and out the other. "Do you mind if I give these to Dr Charles? I want to get his opinion real quick."

"Sure." Your sister in everything but blood shrugged her shoulders, seeing no harm in getting another opinion. "Just don't lose anything, yeah?"

"Ha ha, very funny." You said smiled sarcastically, rolling your eyes at her undertone as you rolled your chair away to find the head of psychiatry.

*****

It had been a few hours later. The fire incident from earlier was no longer at the forefront of your mind as you busied yourself with your actual patients. Doctor Charles was back in the ED and you had several meetings scheduled.

Signing off a treatment sheet for some new medications, the silence of the psychiatric ward was interrupted by heavy feet rushing towards you.

Looking up, your were caught off guard. You were not expecting to see your dad and Erin again till later in the evening for dinner.

And by the looks on their faces, this wasn't going to be a happy little visit.

In fact, your dad looked conflicted. A myriad of emotions painting his face, so many that you started to get scared. You hadn't seen him look like this since-

"Dr Dean Reybold. He's your doctor right?" Your dad asked, skipping past any pleasantries.

You felt time slowing, almost struggling to hear what he was asking.

You could only nod.

You felt like a child again being scolded watching how he reacted. It was like you had hurt him. Watching him try to compose himself made you want to be sick.

When your dad looked back at you, his eyes bright in unshed tears, you felt your heart stop.

*****

It was a lie.

All of it, everything. It had all been a lie.

It felt like going through the five stages of grief, grappling with the news and the reality of this situation.

You along with way too many women had been lied to and deceived. In your most vulnerable positions, you had all been manipulated just for his selfish, disgusting needs.

At your most emotional, he lied. He used your personal connections, your past with your mother. What a sick sick bastard.

Sitting on a bed at Med, Natalie showing you your test results, you didn't even have it in you anymore to cry. You were just so tired.

Going back home to your dad, you felt like a little girl again. You felt like that five-year-old who would lie about her nightmares just so she could sneak into her parents bed and sleep with them.

His arms opened up instantly and you didn't need anymore prompting. Dragging your feet towards the couch, you sat and folded yourself up, tucking your feet under yourself as you tried to hide and make yourself invisible in your fathers embrace.

Closing your eyes, you told him the news, the inevitable that you both had been dreading. Deep down, some sick part of you wished to have cancer just so that you could feel better, just to not feel like a victim who was a ploy for some psychopath.

His arm squeezed you as your voice became breathy, words shaking as all the emotions all came crashing down once again.

You had been crying way too much recently.

The plans for the future were still a little blurry and you weren't too sure how you were going to cope. Your body needed to heal and go back to being its usual healthy, as if you and so many other women hadn't had chemo and unnecessary radiation pumped into your body for no reason at all.

You had met all the women at the court hearing, seeing just how many women and families he had hurt just like yours.

And for once, being a psychiatrist didn't feel like the most important thing.

You were struggling to grapple with your emotions but the easiest part of it was being a helping hand to them. Perhaps it made you feel better to help the other women, trying to help them mentally when you can't physically.

And your dad and Erin were your biggest supporters like always.

This had brought back so many memories from the past that it was almost too painful to recollect, especially considering you were now at the forefront of the exact same event.

You weren't too sure what the healing and recovery process was going to look like - that's what scared you the most.

But the most reassuring part was that the sick 'doctor' wasn't going to do anymore harm and you had the best family supporting you every single step of the way.

[heavyhitterheaux]

Got Me Thinking

Part 2: Late Nights and Spousal Confessions

Synopsis: Not wanting the night to end, Jack quickly asks to spend more time with you. Little did the two of you know that it would end up being a therapy session about your marriages to other people.

Pairing: Jack Harlow x Reader

Read Part 1 First

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

Jack continued to look at you in disbelief before the biggest smile broke out on his face as he quickly embraced you.

Your arms immediately went around his neck as you felt him pick you up so your feet were hovering above the ground as he hugged you tighter.

“Are you really here right now?” He asked as he whispered in your ear and you simply nodded before responding to him.

“I am and you can thank your little brother for that.”

“And to answer your question, yes. I did miss you, more than you know.”

“Well if I would have known that you two would be this excited to see each other, I would have done it sooner.” Clay mumbled and the two of you couldn't help but laugh. Jack placed you back on your feet before his left hand went to cup your face as his right started to play with the ends of your hair. Something that he used to do when the two of you were younger so it was obvious that old habits die hard.

“And that's who he let get away? Look at how they're looking at each other! Jack hasn't acknowledged anyone else since he's seen her. He doesn't even look at his own wife like that.” Ace said to Clay who simply nodded in agreement.

“That's who he should have been with and stayed with from the beginning.”

“Agreed.”

The party consisted of Jack and Urban making their rounds and mingling with all of their guests, but one thing that didn't happen was you leaving Jack's side. You had been basically glued to him for the entire night and you could tell that your presence was giving him a sense of comfort. Just like before when the two of you were together.

When it got close to about 2 in the morning, people were starting to wind down and leave and since Clay brought you, he quickly asked when you would be ready to leave, but Jack jumped in before you could say anything.

“I'll take her home, don't worry about it. We have a lot to catch up on.” He said while turning to you and smiling.

“I figured, but I thought I would ask anyway.” Clay said while smiling at the sight in front of him. He didn't even know the last time that he saw his older brother so happy and he was hoping that it would stay that way and the two of you would end up together like everyone wanted.

No one had really mentioned or brought up the fact that Jack's wife, better known as Kelsey, hadn't even shown up to her own husband's birthday party but it was clear that Jack did not care one bit. His attention and focus had been on you the entire time and you were low key happy that you didn't have to compete for it with someone else.

The two of you were now settled into Jack’s Jeep and he simply looked over at you and smiled.

“I literally just cannot believe you’re here right now.”

“I actually wasn’t going to come, but Clay convinced me.” You said being completely honest as he began to drive.

“What? Why?”

“I didn’t think that you would have wanted to see me.”

“What the? It’s not like we ended on a bad note. Besides, I literally always ask your mom about you anytime that I see her. That just happens to be a lot since you know our moms have been inseparable since we began dating and haven’t let up since.”

“Very true. Any time I talk to her and ask her what she’s doing she says she’s with Maggie.”

“I don’t want to take you home just yet, if that’s okay.” Jack said, looking straight ahead as he was coming to a red light.

“Hmm, we can go to Waffle House, they’re still open.”

Once the two of you reached Waffle House and got settled into a booth in the back, you knew that Jack was bound to ask you about being married and you were just waiting for it. You both scanned the menu in a comfortable silence before he spoke up.

“So……”

“So…..” You said back to him as both of you let out laughs.

“Tell me everything. What’s been going on with you?”

“Well, I did end up going to nursing school and did that for a little while before I decided to go back and get my CRNA.”

“Damn, I knew my girl was smart. I remember you telling me that you wanted to do that. That’s anesthesia right?” Your heart instantly fluttered when you heard him call you his girl.

“It is, I didn’t think that you would remember.”

“I remember everything about my first love. Including how she didn’t think my full name was Jackman and decided to call me Jackson instead and it stuck.”

You immediately busted out laughing remembering the conversation that the two of you had with you both going back and forth debating on what Jack’s real name was. And you legit asked Maggie to see his birth certificate which she laughed about.

“And to this day, you are the only person allowed to do that.”

“But I love Jackman better. It makes you unique.” You replied as you looked back down at the menu and was deciding on what you wanted to drink.

“What else has happened? You live in Cali now, right?”

“Yeah, I live in Calabasas and have been there for about six years. I like it…. At times.”

Just then the two of you were interrupted by your waiter who you looked up to see was Ms.Isabella. She was the manager and worked here for as long as you two could remember.

“Well isn’t it my favorite nurse and my favorite rapper?!”

“Ms. Isabella, respectfully, don’t you only know like five of my songs? How am I your favorite rapper?” Jack asked joking with her, but all she did was laugh and roll her eyes at him.

“I’ve been to enough concerts to know more than five songs. Anyway, you two aren’t married yet?” She asked and both of you looked like deer caught in headlights, but you quickly recovered.

“Ms. Isabella we’re both married, but not to each other.” You asked and all she did was try to hide the obvious smirk that was about to be displayed on her face. She had definitely been talking to your mother and knew what she was doing.

“Oh, what a shame. Anyway, all I know is that I remember the two of you always being in here when you were younger and being inseparable. Especially when both of you would be drunk and trying to sober up before you went home. A secret that I shall keep from both of your mother’s forever. Anyway, what are we drinking? Orange juice?”

“That’s fine.” Jack quickly said as she nodded her head to walk towards the counter.

When she walked away, it was slightly awkward and you knew for a fact that he was about to ask you now.

“So, how long have you been married?” He asked while looking down and drumming his fingers on the table.

“This year will be three years.” You quietly answered and Jack nodded his head. One of the first things he noticed was your wedding ring when he had first laid eyes on you and seeing it in person made his heart drop. He knew that you were, but was wishing deep down that it wasn’t true.

“What’s his name?”

“Xavier.”

“Does… he treat you well?”

You hesitated on answering that simply because you knew the type of person that Jack was. Even though he wasn’t one to care for confrontation, when it came to you he didn’t care. He would probably have no problem hoping on a plane and going to Cali in order to beat his ass for what he had done to you.

“That’s…. A loaded question. Umm…”

“Y/N, I’m not trying to pry and you only have to tell me what you feel comfortable with me knowing. But the look on your face is telling when I asked about him.”

“It’s just complicated.”

“Marriage can be difficult sometimes, but it shouldn’t be complicated if the two people involved work together.”

“I… I married a wonderful person who I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with, but about ten months ago his true colors started to show and I don’t think that I can stomach being married to a person like that much longer.”

“Did he put his hands on you? Because….” Jack asked with his voice slightly raising and you immediately shook your head no and placed your hand on top of his in order to get him to calm down.

“No, nothing like that.”

“Are you sure?”

“I promise. It’s nowhere near that.”

“Then, what is it?”

“He’s been cheating on me for a year and got another woman pregnant.”

Jack’s mouth was now hanging wide open as he looked at you dumbfounded.

“And does he know that you know this?”

You just shook your head no and sighed.

“I… you know that you deserve better than that.”

“I know, I’m just trying to stack my money to be able to get a divorce and get away from him. I already opened up a bank account that he has no idea about.”

“Y/N, I’m so sorry.” Jack quietly said as he saw your eyes watering. Bottom line was you still loved Xavier despite what he had done to you and you absolutely hated yourself for it.

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine, just a little while longer. Now onto you, tell me all that there is to know about Kelsey. I thought I was going to meet her tonight. How’s married life treating you?” Even though you had heard from multiple people about how Jack was miserable in his marriage, you needed to hear it come straight from him.

“Hmm, not a lot to tell.”

“What in the world is that supposed to mean?”

When Jack was once again quiet, you could still read him like an open book despite how many years had passed.

“You regret it.” You quietly said and he just looked at you.

“How can you know exactly what I’m thinking without me having to say anything and you’re in tune with my feelings when my wife can’t even do that?”

“I can read you like a book, Jackman. I’ve always been able to. You can be completely silent like just now and I…. why do you regret it?”

“I’ve recently found out some things about her that I didn’t know before and it makes me think that I truly don’t know her at all and I rushed into this.”

Ms. Isabella interrupted the two of you as she sat both of your drinks down and was waiting for the two of you to order.

“I'll take the all star breakfast.”

“Me too.” You quietly said as you handed her your menu and she simply shot both of you a smile before walking away.

“So, Clay telling me that you were miserable in your marriage wasn't a lie?”

“I… I know he's just trying to look out for me but it's not a lie. I definitely care about her to a certain extent and don't want anything bad to happen to her but….”

“Then do what you have to do in order for you to have a peace of mind.”

“I want to give it time seeing as it hasn't even been a year yet and the fact that the amount of people that would be telling me ‘I told you so’ would be endless.”

“Don't worry about them. As long as you're happy, that's the important part.”

“True.”

“Besides, I’m here for you and will support you with whatever you decide.”

“I appreciate that. Now that I got you back I'm definitely not letting you go again.”

It was around seven in the morning when the two of you finally pulled in front of your parent's house and you weren't afraid to admit that you were sad that the night was coming to an end.

When the two of you had left Waffle House, you both decided to watch the sunrise for old times sake since that was something that the two of you would do often when you two were together.

You were excited that he was now back in your life and was hoping that it would be for the long haul.

“I hope you had an amazing birthday.” You said as the two of you were now standing outside of his Jeep.

“I did because I got the best birthday gift that I could have ever asked for, like Clay said. I appreciate you for coming and I'm happy that I got to see you. It's been way too long.”

“It has.”

“How long are you staying?”

“About another week.”

Jack simply nodded as he grabbed your hand and started rubbing small circles on the back of it.

“Block out some time for me?”

“For you? Always. You never have to ask.” You answered as you smiled up at him which he quickly returned before bringing you into a hug.

“I missed you so much and that is probably all you're going to hear me say over the next week.”

“I don't mind because I missed you too.” You responded as the two of you finally pulled away.

“Go and get some sleep and I’ll call you later.” Jack said as he reached down to kiss your forehead and then your cheek which was dangerously close to your mouth, but you brushed it off and thought nothing of it.

“Okay.”

“Since we now have an audience.”

You looked behind you to see your brother looking out of the window on the second floor as your sister and your parents were looking out of the window that was in the living room and you immediately groaned as Jack laughed. Your mom looked to be on the phone and you knew for a fact that she was talking to Maggie and giving her a play by play.

“I'm probably hitting the studio later. You want to come?”

“Hmm, I think I can clear my schedule for you.”

“Then it's a date.”

[pixelnrd]

I'm really enjoying Jasmine's story! Sex and romance are obviously huge themes for her, how did you decide to make those a focus for her? I've been getting some Sex in the City vibes from her, which feels era-appropriate. Was that your inspiration, or did your ideas come from somewhere else?

Thanks!

Thanks for this ask, I love doing a deep dive into characters and my motivations behind them!

Sex and the City was a huge inspiration behind Jasmine's character, specifically Carrie Bradshaw - she is a young woman who wants to make something of herself and is proud of her achievements and success, but at the same time she wants recognition from the opposite sex (hence her track record with men). She is on-trend and finds glamour and status and money alluring, and she doesn't mind taking legs up where she can with a bit of help from others who have access to those things (like Andrew). She loves her family and friends, but is also a bit selfish and self-interested and lets her desires get the better of her (like her mistake with sleeping with the professor).

Jasmine is a reflection and a product of third-wave feminism and everything it achieved, which is why she is who she is in the 2000s. Her sexual freedom and 'promiscuity' are a result of this, thanks to the third-waves work bringing about sex positivity and a dismantling of taboos around women and sex. However, her character fits squarely into this box of sexually free, attractive career woman. If she were to get married, her sexuality would be expected to be curbed because these roles (professional vs wife vs mother) were still separated from eachother at this point in time (and to be honest, this is still being dismantled even today in 2024). She can't be a career woman and a mother! She can't be a wife and openly sexual! These are things that might impact on her development as we go on...

The other thing I wanted to portray with Jasmine's character in this generation is a juxtaposition with other sexually free females that have come before her in this Legacy.

Think about Daisy, who was sexually motivated and liberal in the 1920s - this got her into trouble several times and affected her entire life, resulting in her running away, unplanned pregnancies, shame over her children's parentage, and an inability to provide for or acknowledge those illegitimate children while with her husband. Daisy couldn't be free to do as she wanted because of social constraints, and when she dared to break social norms (by having sex outside of marriage) she was punished.

Similarly, Maggie in the 1950s was also a sexually liberal female - she enjoyed experimenting with boys from a young age in secret, which led to her Challengers-esque relationship with Em and Alex. She had a lot of children with her husband - which was a socially acceptable way to show the world you were sexual - but she also had an affair with the man she probably should have married in the first place. She then lived the rest of her life feeling guilt over what she did. If divorce was around back then, and socially acceptable, Maggie could have explored the way she clearly needed to at a young age before settling down and becomming a mother.

Jasmine, by contrast to these women who came before her, has so much freedom to explore and experiment before she feels pressure to settle down. And as this challenge nears the end, I wanted her story to reflect how far women have come in that time since her ancestors and their experiences.

And finally... Lovestruck came out when I started this generation, and it all felt a bit fitting to play through the features of this new pack with this particular character, in this particular decade!

[misguidedasgardian]

Wild Cats (part IV)

MASTERLIST

Summary: It was true, strength did came in numbers  

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Zombie apocalypse AU, living dead, zombies, guts, blood, guns, injures, cannibalism, 

+18, MINORS DNI

Notes: Is it the name of the fic? I thought we all loved Daryl :(

“Hi, I’m Maggie”, she presented herself to you, and you shook her hand, she must have been around your age

“(y/n)”, you answered back with a shy smile

“Glenn”, she presented, pointing at the man who spoke first

“Now, we need to get ready, we are not going to make it easy on them”, said Rick, “grab anything you can and turn it into a weapon”

“I have some knives”, you said, they all looked at you amazed, and you took a knee and from your big ass boots you took two blades. You handed one to Rick.

Everyone got to work, and it was kind of fun, you made weapons out of everything, most of them took their belts off and use the metal part to make brass knuckles, and Ruck started trying to break the wooden edge of the door to make a stake

The boots you had on were a heavy duty boot, with a rubber edge and soles, and then a thick leather shin. Now that it was getting heated they were a bother, but once a walker tried to munch at your feet and it couldn't because of it. They allowed you to store things in them, you took out their laces and… well, you didn’t know what you were going to do with them but you already had a knife so you just wrapped your knuckles with them.

Daryl was by your side, making his own weapons, you looked at him, wondering if he was good with a knife, anybody could be better than you

“Are you good with a knife?”, you asked him, he looked at you like he wanted to bite your head off when you offered him your knife

“Keep it”, he said

“You have to be better than me using it”, you said, the weapon hanging in the air between you, just when a light hit you from above. A trap door on the roof of the cart.

“Everyone ready!”, Rick screamed but they only dropped what it looked like a gas can inside

“Be careful!”, someone screamed, as it started to release gas. 

“DON’T BREATHE THAT!”, you ran to the back of the cart, protecting your face with the inside of your arm, the knife had been lost in the confusion, and you didn’t have time to look for it, everyone in the cart dropped heavily to the ground

When you came to your senses you felt people walking around you, speaking, their voices became more clear as they were as confused as you were.

You raised your head and looked around the cart, the visibility was already poor, but even now you could see… there was people missing

“Rick is gone!”, said Michonne

“Glenn!”, called Maggie

“Daryl”, you muttered when the archer was nowhere to be found.

“Bob”, called a woman

You stood up again, heavily, you looked at the ground of the cart but the blade was missing, you only hoped Daryl had took it, and not those fuckers.

“What are those sickos going to do with them?”, someone asked.

“We need to see if we can open that thing“, you said looking up, “you! big guy”, you spoke at the big ginger man, he nodded, grabbing you quickly and raising you without further questions. Michonne was there in a second to help him to give you a steady grip, so you could use the strength in half your body to tray and open that trap door. You couldn’t, so you help the man that you learned was called Abraham to raise Michonne this time, but she didn’t have any luck either.

“We need to get out of here, we need to find them before…”

You then jumped to the door and all of you together tried to open it. There was eight of you, still, you couldn’t make it work

It was Rosita now who wanted to be lift up to reach the trap door, and then, between four of you, managed to lift Abraham himself, but not even he could open it.

Just as you were trying to open the big door again. You heard a loud explosion, that shook the entire terrain

“What was that?”, you asked, Maggie stuck her head to the door, and even you who were just standing could hear the gunshots.

“They are under attack!”, she said

“That works in our benefit”, said Rosita

“Do you think that the guys are doing this?”, you asked

“No I don’t think so”, muttered Maggie

But you didn’t have to wonder anymore, someone opened the door and you prepared yourself to jump at whomever was behind it.

But it was Rick and Daryl

“Someone is attacking, come on let’s go!”, he yelled and you all jumped out of there.

It was mayhem. Smoke, walkers coming in, gunshots far away, pandemonium

“Get armed as fast as you can!”, commanded Rick, and you put your knife up and slayed a walker that was coming for you, as you kept together as a group. “kill whoever you see, they will try to kill you”

You were not an idiot, -despite what people who just got to know you might think-, you just didn’t want to accept it, you didn’t, those sickos might only want you to rob you and shit

But you threw up, when you saw… There was a huge pile of human remains on the outside part of one of the warehouses. And they did not look rotten, they were not walker’s remains, those were human, -human- remains.

“We ain’t got time for tha”, muttered Daryl, grabbing you by the arm, and pulling you with him. You had noticed that he had the tendency and grabbing you to encourage you to keep moving, to make sure you did move. 

“They were going to eat us?”, you asked, disgusted

“These are some sick bastards”, you did not ask him what they saw in there, you didn’t have the time.

Your heart was beating fast, you could hear it inside of you. The reality of the moment sinking in, everyone but the people who were in the wagon with you were enemies, and the place was just crawling with moving entities, either dead or alive and they all wanted you dead.

You moved like ninjas through the building, following Rick like he was the chosen one, maybe he was, it certainly felt like it.

He signaled both to stop as you saw a group of those sickos gunning at walkers. You waited until the last one passed by, Rick grabbed him and killed him swiftly, then he shot at their backs. You all jumped and weaponized yourself with their guns before the walkers had those who were still agonizing. A fitting death, you’ll suppose

You had seen it before, but it will never stop hunting you, walkers tearing people alive. The screaming came quickly too.

“Come on!”, Daryl screamed, and you did, you ran like hell. When you were passing by a dead dude, you saw your ax on his belt of his half eaten body, you grabbed it quickly and slain the walker that just turned. 

You lost your backpack too, those bastards took it, you still had things from your… previous life, but… there was no point in holding onto that sort of thing, right?

You preferred to use the ammunition against the living, so as you ran you tried to take down as many walkers as you could, you felt gazes on you. But nobody said anything as you made your way to freedom.

You barely noticed, it came at you, and you just, shot it in the head

Only when it hit the ground did you realize it wasn’t a walker, it was a human being, who you just slaughtered.  

Funny, you had been with Rick’s group for a week and you quadrupled your body count for a year. 

But it was a cannibal psychopath, so you hoped that fact would make you feel better.

You all went to the nearest fence, as some of you covered you when the others jumped, before this whole thing started you were ashamed to admit you had never been really athletic, and even more so when you had trouble to jump the fence, but without even asking someone pushed you up, no questions asked, and you in turn, when you landed, helped the others pass.

You managed to get out of there, weaponized and all, and you left those psychos behind as you ran for the forest

Your heart was still racing, the adrenaline had taken a hold on you and you could say you came out unscathed as you took cover behind the treeline

Everyone was still on-guard, pointing their guns around.

“We need to recover, and come back”, said Rick, you looked back at him like he had two heads

“It’s being overrun!”, said Daryl, and you watched as a big horde of walkers took the territory as their own, “it’s still on fire!”

“If even one of them is alive… they might come back for us”, he said. He did have a point

You only nodded s you started to fill nausea creeping up your throat, you took a couple of steps away from then and you just kept throwing up, the adrenalin having forsaken you

“I don’ think we are going nowhere naw”, you beard Daryl say. 

“I’m sorry”, you whined, Tara, who you just met, came to comfort you, rubbing your back. “It’s just… those were some sick bastards”

“We should get out of here”, said someone you couldn’t quite recognize, and they started arguing

“They are armed to the teeth if we go back maybe we can get more weapons”, fought Abraham

Then, a woman approached the group, she was covered in dried blood, and weaponized to the teeth, and when they saw her, Daryl jumped in her arms and hugged her tightly.

Rick, Michonne, and Carl also were happy to see her, so she must be a part of their group, the one they lost, unlike Abraham, Rosita, Eugene and Tara, who, just like you, were new as well.

“You need to come with me”, she said, and you all got no choice but to follow her, and you wanted to put much distance between you and Terminus

You walked through the woods, and some dark thoughts started creeping on you

Were you doing the right thing by staying with them? You could tell there was strength in numbers but still you couldn’t help but wonder. Since you met the group you had encountered two hostile groups and almost got killed and eaten, you had killed people, more in a week than you had in over a year since this madness started. What does that tell you?

Maybe it would have been best if you just silently walked away. You hadn't noticed, but you slowed down your steps and you got placed last in your group, you watched ahead all those heads, waking forwards.

Oh you were so scared

You were upping the stakes here, big time. More people, more affection you could get and you knew all too well what happened when you believed you were safe and happy.

Oh gods

You almost got eaten today, by people, actual people.

But if you had been alone you would have walked right into the trap and got eaten anyways… no chance of escaping because you were alone…

You could walk away right now and nobody would mind or care… well it was only a few days until you had met them, but still, if you could only have a little sign that this was the right way to go…

“Hey!”, you raised your eyes to see Daryl looking at you, “what are ya’ doin’? this isn’t a stroll through the woods”, he said, always so angry at you

What that your sign? He sighed when you stepped up your pace and walked by his side, he always seemed so frustrated with you, but in some sick way, you didn't mind his gruffness.

“Sorry”, you mumbled.

“Don’t stay behind”, said Rick, “I know what just happened upset you, and I don’t want you to get distracted, walk with us”, he said softly, and you nodded. Yes, you were doing the right thing.  

You walked until you saw a small cabin right in front of you. A big man came out of it, holding a baby. As soon as he saw him, Rick and Carl sprint full speed towards him, Rick took the baby from the man’s arms and hugged her with Carl

“A baby!”, you said happily, it’s been so long since you have seen one, and this one was adorable, “she is a cutie”, you murmured. You felt the gaze of Dixon in you, but you didn’t dare to look back at him

“It’s his daughter”, said the quiet man, Bob, and you smiled even more widely.

This was certainly a stronger sign, right?

You used to find babies really annoying, but now, in this context? It was like a small ray of hope. Like a representation of the most undeniable truth: nature always finds a way.

Now you were just quoting Jurassic Park

Post chapter notes: I feel like these are like filler chapters, but I’m setting a foundation here, and Daryl is a bit mean to reader but that also has some explanation. 

[celestialcrowley]

My mom and I were finally able to watch the final episode of Good Omens season 2.

Before we dive in, my mom is very — how do I say this — anti on certain things. My friend said it perfectly. He said she gave him the homophobic put the fear of God type vibes when he first met her.

I don’t believe anything will ever fully change her opinions or views of us. I’ve not even referred to myself as aromantic / asexual in her presence, and I doubt I ever will. I simply tell her I’m done dating. It’s clearly not in my future, and, after trying it a couple of times, it just isn’t something I’m interested in.

I hope that one day she will open her eyes and realize that it’s all fine. Whatever we are. It’s okay.

My mom enjoyed season one. When I asked her what she thought of Aziraphale and Crowley, here’s what she said. Not her exact words but close enough to what I can remember.

“Aziraphale seems like he’s afraid of getting into trouble with Heaven, but not enough to keep him from going against God’s orders.”

Just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing.

“Crowley isn’t as evil as he paints himself to be.”

Just a little bit a good person.

The only thing, as far as I’m aware, that didn’t quite sit right with my mom is that God is a She.

Wibbly wobbly timey wimey…

I was terrified for her to watch the second season because of Maggie and Nina and That Big Damn Kiss. She’s told me some less than desirable things previously. Here are a handful of them.

“I won’t watch shows that have gay couples in them.”

“I will watch them, but I’ll just turn my head away when they kiss.”

About my friend who is a lesbian —

“Your friend just says that, but she doesn’t actually know what she is.”

Okay, mom. You go ahead and keep telling yourself that.

I am certain, despite my fear, that I wanted her to watch Good Omens so badly because I thought maybe it would be the golden ticket. It’s uniquely different.

We have been gifted with Anthony J’I’m Not Actually Either Crowley and Mister AZ Smitten I Believe Fell, The Almighty God She, Nina I’m Not Your Type and Maggie You Have No Idea.

I was expecting my mom to frown upon Maggie and Nina’s story in season two, but she didn’t. She actually didn’t even have anything negative to say.

Y’all should have seen me when That Big Damn Kiss was coming up. I was fidgeting probably as bad as Aziraphale was when he was gathering up the courage to ask Crowley to dance with him.

I don’t think I’ve ever fidgeted that much in my life.

And then it happened.

That Big Damn Kiss

And she watched all of it. She didn’t look away. She didn’t make a face. She didn’t say anything negative.

I don’t necessarily think her views have changed because she laughed at something my uncle told her about a former coworker of his. This coworker used to go by Craig, but he later came out as trans and asked to be called Cindy. My uncle said, “The best we can do is Crindy.”

Most of my family are homophobic, and I don’t care for it.

I don’t know if it’s the way Neil Gaiman has written Good Omens, but I was surprised that she watched the entire show, had nothing negative to say and even added that she needs to watch all of both seasons again to better understand it.

That’s something, I suppose.

Maybe she’s coming around.

Thank you, Neil Gaiman.

You truly are a legend. 💚

[zombiewhor3]

THE TALK

carl grimes x fem reader (season 5 era)

WARNINGS: mentions of making out, both characters are 16, no smut because characters are underage, mentions of being caught, father and son argument, angry Glenn, slight angry Maggie, accusation of sex, fem reader, mentions of parent loss, mentions of sex, mentions of 'the talk', mentions of pregnancy, talk of consent, talk of sexual situations between teens, mentions of hormones

a/n: enjoy this because after this happy one there's gonna be two more Carl one-shots except it's gonna be angst :))

-

her hands were pressed against Carl's cheeks while she was soaking into the embrace of their kiss, their mouths moving so rapidly while she could feel him tugging at her t-shirt and of course she so damn eagerly let him pull it off of her.

she smiled happily as a moan was pushed into her mouth from him, in reality they were both just exploring how they felt in the real world, learning the concept of sex and virginity was an all new ballpark.

y/n knew what sex was, so did Carl it wasn't any secret to what it was or the way babies were made, his mother had that talk with him when he was just a boy and well y/n learned on her own since she never really had parents to take after her.

of course they were virgins, in the apocalypse there wasn't very much virginity losing going on, not with Rick and Glenn breathing down both of their backs like the walkers were.

and besides they never really seemed to have the talk with each other because it was something they both knew would come at the right time for each other and well when they believed the time was right it truly never was for them because they would make out and straddle each other until someone knocked at Carl's door and she'd be forced to hide in the closet or he would hide in hers.

she tangled one of her hands in his hair to get a better grip while she propped herself up in his lap to get a better leverage and to maybe feel his hips bucking up at her.

she hummed into his mouth while his hands groped at her body, she let his hands explore from her shoulders down to her breasts until he was rubbing small circles at her hips from the jeans he slightly pulled down to reveal more of her waist for him.

he was rubbing small circles once he found out she was enjoying it, but as she threw her hips up to him the door opened and shocked Atlanta sheriff stood with a loud sound of his voice,

"God dammit Carl! really!" Rick yelled covering his eyes so he couldn't see the girl with only a bra covering her upper half, Carl rushed a t-shirt from the floor on her as Glenn stepped into the room watching as she adjusted her hair with an awkward smile.

"Jesus Carl really c'mon we're in the middle of a god damn apocalypse and now you choose to do this?!" Rick asked looking over as Glenn furrowed his brows and looked over at y/n who was looking down at the wooden tile of the floor below them.

"you usually knock!" Carl shouted in defense looking over at still the confused Glenn who had his arms folded, "what the hell is going on?" he shouted feeling his wife step next to him.

"caught these two going at it" Rick remarked folding his arms as he took a step into the bedroom, "YOU HAD SEX?" Maggie shouted watching as y/n and Carl rapidly shook their head.

"No! dad don't say that! we weren't having sex" Carl huffed putting on his sheriffs hat that was resting on the night stand, "just making out" y/n added feeling the dad eyes soak into her.

she had been with Glenn ever since the start, she lost her father at a young age so she adapted to Glenn,

she had found Glenn when the entire thing started when she was just the same age as Carl, he protected her and now he was her Dad, it's what he was meant for, protecting y/n like his actual daughter just like how Maggie treated her.

"i'm sorry Glenn" she mumbled rubbing her arm softly while she and Carl took a seat on the bed from Rick's hand gesture for them to plant a seat on the bed,

"what if you get pregnant? there are so many risks to this, you could maybe ask for condoms?" Glenn spoke watching as y/n cringed externally and Carl made a disgusted face.

"think it's disgusting now but just wait til wearing a condom matters, besides having a baby is to dangerous especially in these times" Maggie spoke gently as she approached y/n rubbing her shoulder.

"are you mad?" she asked looking up at the adults in the room they all shook their head 'no' in response, "we need you to be safe even if you think it's embarrassing you guys" Rick spoke rubbing over some of the stubble of his beard on his face.

"promise if you have questions or if you need protection you'll ask us or even just go to the pantry and get some as long as your safe that's all it matters and well as long as you both consent" Maggie spoke flicking her eyes at both of the teens.

they both nodded while y/n sprouted a smile on her face, "yes ma'am" she replied while Carl replied the same response and adjusted his hat slightly so it wasn't as crooked.

"be safe kiddos, think about that for next time" Glenn spoke propping a smile on his face, after all they were just foolish teens, teens with hormones that were exploring all of the boundaries and just daring to break some of the rules put in place for them.

Maggie and Glenn stepped out of the room looking as Rick planted one of his feet against the wall while he leaned against it, "so does that mean we can continue what we were doing?" Carl asked hopeful that his father would've said yes.

"you have work and i expect you to be out and dressed in two minutes you hear me, after two minutes i burst in here" he spoke shutting the door behind him.

"that went well" Carl spoke slipping back on a t-shirt while he looked over at her, she had a smile planted on her face.

"i think it did"

[taexual]

sleepwalking ● 11 | jjk

pairing: jungkook x fem!reader

summary: due to unfortunate circumstances, you ended up managing your ex-boyfriend’s band. you thought you’ve both made peace with it, but suddenly he’s very eager to prove to you that first love never dies.

genre: rockstar!jungkook / exes to lovers

warnings: explicit language, ANGST, PENT-UP FEELINGS, SLOW BURN

words: 7.8k

read from the beginning ○ masterlist

chapter 11 ► i can hear your heartbeat i’ve tried so hard to forget, i’m being buried under the memory of all of my regrets

On the flight to Amsterdam in the morning, you ended up sitting next to Luna. That wasn’t particularly unusual as your entire team—apart from the roadies who drove the bus with the equipment over from Oslo, bless them—tended to change seats as they pleased.

Normally, though, Luna sat next to her boyfriend. So, the fact that she was sitting next to you this time was unusual.

“Funny thing,” she said to you once the plane was in the air and everyone around you began to slowly move around. “I didn’t sleep well last night.”

You looked at her. “How is that funny?”

“It’s funny because when I woke up to get a bottle of water from the mini fridge,” she said, “the curtains on your bunk were drawn.”

You swallowed, suspecting what she was getting at, but refusing to give in. “That doesn’t sound very funny, either.”

“No, I agree,” she said, grinning as she got to the best part, “but as I went back, I noticed that Jungkook wasn’t in his bunk.”

You looked down at your tablet, the e-book you had opened already forgotten as the lines on the screen blurred together. “Huh.”

“Yeah,” Luna said. The more you evaded her, the happier she seemed. She had come to her own conclusions that, honestly, weren’t very far from the truth, but you couldn’t admit that, not even to her. “Any clue what’s that about?”

“None,” you lied with a nonchalant expression. “But I’m sure the explanation would be funny.”

She continued to grin at you. “I’m sure it would be. I’d love to hear it.”

You swallowed and pretended to be busy reading, even though the words on the screen might as well have been gibberish, given how little sense they made.

“I’m sure you would,” you mumbled.

Luna groaned. She wanted to know, and it was hard not to push when you were right there, and the truth of what had happened was on the tip of your tongue.

“Come on!” she pleaded, nudging her shoulder against yours. “Don’t make me wake Maggie.”

You knew Maggie was settled in the seat behind you, sleep mask, earpods and neck pillow in tow. She wasn’t the interrogator out of the two of them, but if she and Luna teamed up, they would either get you to admit everything, or they’d come to their own—probably exaggerated—version of what happened which you’d have to deny, thus confirming their initial suspicions anyway.

“What do you want me to say?” you asked, stalling.

“Just confirm what I already suspect,” Luna said, knowing better than to ask for the whole story.

You looked away instead of answering, but there was a warmth in your eyes that wasn’t there before; Luna’s questions had evidently brought back the memories of last night.

“Alright!” your friend cheered at the sight of it, relentless. “That’s confirmation enough.”

You shook your head, trying to suppress the smile that was tugging at your lips, but Luna still saw the corners of your mouth lift.

“How about you tell me why you weren’t sleeping tonight instead,” you said—only partially because you wanted to change the subject. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah. That just happens sometimes, maybe too much adrenaline.” She shrugged, letting you drift off topic for the moment. “Should’ve jumped less at the concert last night. But hey, that was the reason I got to witness that very funny thing last night.” She snickered then, and, in response to your glare, said, “but I’m really fine.”

You knew the band would have three days off in Amsterdam before the next show, so Luna could reasonably get enough sleep in that time, but you still asked, “you sure?”

“Yes,” she repeated, then ran her fingers over her eyes, “and no third degree, please. I’m sitting with you because my boyfriend,” she emphasised the word as she sat up straight to look over the several rows of seats behind her where Taehyung sat, “as much as I love him, he won’t stop asking me if I’m fine every two seconds.”

“And here I thought you were sitting with me because you loved me,” you teased.

“I do love you,” she said. “But I also feel bad for him. I told him to sit with Yoongi, because Yoongi always naps on flights, and I knew that was the only way Tae would get any sleep.”

“Wait, so he didn’t sleep tonight, either?” you asked.

“He did at first,” Luna said, “but then he saw that I was awake, and he ended up staying awake, too.”

You smiled despite yourself. “You guys sicken me.”

Suddenly, someone grabbed the back of your seat—you felt fingers brush gently past your tied-back hair—and you heard Maggie moan behind you.

“You guys,” she muttered, sliding the mask from her eyes and leaning into the gap between your seat and Luna’s, “sicken me, too.”

“I thought you were asleep,” Luna said.

“How can I sleep? My earpods died a minute ago,” Maggie explained her own logic before directing her attention to you. “So, anyway. What happened between you and Jungkook?”

The continued ambush made you stutter, “wh-why do you keep asking that? Nothing happ—”

“Luna,” Maggie turned to your friend. “What happened? You and Taehyung were awake. I trust your words.”

You raised your eyebrows while Luna chuckled.

“Don’t worry,” she said to you. “I was the one who drew these conclusions. Taehyung didn’t see anything, he only heard Jungkook climb into his bunk.”

At first, you hadn’t even realised that Taehyung staying awake when Luna couldn’t sleep meant that he was not only a great boyfriend to her, but also that half the bus was awake when Jungkook snuck into your bunk.

“Jolly,” you said dryly as your eyes immediately left your friend’s face.

She smiled automatically, and, urged by your flustered state, turned to Maggie to tell her the facts: her lack of sleep and the search for a water bottle that led to the discovery of your drawn curtains and Jungkook’s empty bunk.

“And if you must know,” Luna said to you then, “my original plan was to make sure you were alone on the plane, so someone could take the seat next to you. But I ruined it by exiling my boyfriend to the back and finding you myself.”

“Clever plan,” you commented. “Thanks for sabotaging it.”

She snickered, not losing her optimism despite your sarcasm.

“More flights in the future,” Maggie remarked, prompting Luna to nod in eager agreement. “Maybe it’ll work out then.”

“Mmhmm. Fingers crossed,” you deadpanned.

“So, um, not to ruin the happy conversation,” Maggie said before she ruined the happy conversation, “but have you made a decision about Reconnaissance?”

“Oh.” You slumped in your chair. “No. My decision is to think about it as little as possible, so I can call Nick next month and tell him I’m not doing it. Because I’m afraid that if I do start thinking about it, I’ll end up… you know, wavering.”

Maggie regarded you from the gap between the seats. “And that’s bad?”

“That’s bad,” you confirmed. “I know I want to stay here.”

“Have you told the guys?” Luna asked.

“No. I haven’t had the chance yet.” You looked down, twisting the decorative silver-coloured ring on your index finger. “I kind of want this to come up naturally. I mean, as naturally as possible. So that it doesn’t seem like such a big deal.”

Luna nodded sympathetically, while Maggie’s grin widened behind you.

“Yeah,” she said. “And, obviously, you and Jungkook are busy with other things for this to come up naturally.”

You saw Luna start to laugh as your eyes widened and your lips formed the first excuse that came to mind. “Okay, that’s not even true, we were just—”

The two girls were snickering too hard to hear you, but it was Maggie’s considerate tap on your shoulder—as if to tell you to stop talking because they knew better—that made you close your mouth and roll your eyes at the two of them.

“So.” Luna shifted in her seat, looking for a more comfortable position. Even though she had the window seat, she didn’t look out once, focusing on you instead. “Now that we’re back on the subject—”

“There was no subj—”

“—you and Jungkook,” she persisted, undeterred by your attempt to return your attention to the tablet on your lap. “What does this mean?”

You sighed, realising you needed to say something. Luna and Maggie weren’t questioning you to be mean, they just wanted to know. And it was fair, considering you shared almost everything with each other, especially now that Luna joined Rated Riot for some of their tour dates.

And yet this particular topic was difficult. Just the mention of Jungkook’s name blocked something in your throat, as if there were only certain things you could say about him, and what had happened on the bus last night was not one of them.

“Nothing,” you said sincerely, because those five minutes with him were truly not supposed to hold any significance. “It wasn’t—it’s nothing.”

“Okay,” Luna said, lowering her eyebrows and her voice. “And if we’re serious, then what does it mean?”

You closed your eyes. “It—”

“Hey.” Unexpectedly, Jungkook’s voice rang from the aisle next to you. “Am I interrupting?”

This forced your eyes to shoot open in surprise.

“Oh, speak of the devil,” Maggie muttered with a half-smirk as she pulled back, retreating deeper into her seat. Her eyes were still shining from this seemingly top-secret information that she had to squeeze out of you.

“Huh?” Jungkook looked at the girl behind you. Then, beaming as he realised what she was getting at, he asked, “oh, were you talking about me?”

“Not at all,” you said, locking your tablet and putting it in the back pocket of the seat in front of you. Jungkook wasn’t sure which of his questions you were answering. You asked, “what’s up?”

“It’s Hoseok,” he said. “He’s had a headache since before we boarded. He says he’s fine, but the veins on his temples are very prominent, so I think he could use some medicine.”

You grew visibly alarmed as he spoke, your mind racing through scenarios of what to do. There weren’t a lot of options, considering you were thousands of feet in the air right now.

“He hasn’t taken any?” you asked slowly.

“No,” Jungkook replied. He reminded you, “he says he’s fine.”

You nodded – this was Hoseok in a nutshell. Unless he collapsed abruptly, he was in perfect health.

“Of course,” you said. “Give me a moment, I have Advil in my bag.”

Jungkook patiently waited while you stood up from your aisle seat and grabbed your backpack from the overhead compartment. He was completely unaware of the big grins on Luna and Maggie’s faces as the girls watched him watch you.

They didn’t know why they bothered asking you anything. You were both painfully obvious.

“Here,” you said, handing him the package of medicine. “Maybe I should go over there—”

“I got it. Thanks,” he said with a good-natured smile. After a beat of silence, during which the two of you just watched each other and Luna had to bite her lip to stay quiet, Jungkook added, “get some rest. We have big plans in Amsterdam.”

You raised your eyebrows. “We? As in, you and me?”

You could see Luna through your peripherals, pretending to scratch something near her eye to hide her ridiculous beaming.

“Yes. I made a promise, remember?” Jungkook said.

You didn’t, not right away. Then the taxi ride in Paris returned to your memory.

“Oh, the bikes?” you asked, feeling almost ridiculous now. You had mentioned Amsterdam as a dream destination back then, but you didn’t think he’d consider it important enough to remember. “We don’t have to—”

“We’ll do it,” he cut you off. “I’ll come pick you up from your room when we get to the hotel.”

He made sure to leave you no option to disagree, so, you swallowed and nodded your head. “Okay. Sure.”

He gave Luna a quick smile, nodded at Maggie, then winked at you, and walked past, intentionally bringing his hand over your waist as you stood in the aisle.

You sat down, your skin on fire, but you naively hoped it did not show on your face. Really, it didn’t have to. Luna was, on a certain level, a psychic. Or, at least, hyper-aware of her surroundings. Maggie, on the other hand, just reacted to social cues, albeit not always quickly unless they were obvious. And, this time, they were obvious.

“Romantic,” Luna commented.

“Why bikes?” was Maggie’s addition to the conversation. “I say rent out a carriage. With white horses.”

Luna jumped in, “and white doves!”

“Alright, shut up,” you shot back, shaking your head to fight off another smile as the two girls nodded at each other conspiratorially.

This was ridiculous. But as Luna and Maggie chuckled next to you, you found yourself relaxing as well. They hadn’t scolded you for being unreasonable or evading a decision about Reconnaissance, or behaving stupidly altogether—even though you thought you deserved that. Instead, the girls just seemed excited for you.

Because of their good mood, you couldn’t bring yourself to worry about the meaningfulness of going bike riding after all that had happened on the bus last night.

And, in all truth, you felt excited as well.

As Jungkook unzipped his suitcase in the hotel room he shared with Yoongi—who had already finished unpacking his equipment and had successfully occupied the only desk in the room—he realised two things.

The first was that he hadn’t packed enough black shirts and would have to wear white today, like a—he didn’t even know what. He always wore black.

And the second was that he felt a newfound motivation. Last night, as he returned to his bunk, stumbling over his own feet and thoughts of you, he had felt, simply, deflated. But today was different. He decided that if he were to take anything from last night, it would be this: you didn’t push him away.

And now he couldn’t give up on you.

So, groaning, he changed into a white shirt and glanced at the mirror by the door before leaving. He saw no difference in his appearance as he brought a hand through his hair, letting it fall in shaggy curls over his face. But then as he reached for the bottle of cologne in his toiletry bag, he saw that his hands were shaking. He was nervous.

He could remember an almost identical moment seven years ago when he took you out on your first date, not knowing back then that it would lead to a three-year relationship with a very bitter end.

To be clear, it was the bitter end that he hadn’t foreseen. Because even seven years ago, as he frantically double-checked your dinner reservations with a carefulness that was very unlike him, he knew he wouldn’t go on another first date after that night.

It was funny how he managed to be wrong and right at the same time.

This felt like a first date again. But it was still with you.

Seven years ago, you two had ended up missing your dinner reservations after all, because you’d gone to see a movie first—some romantic drama with a tragic end that you both pretended not to have cried at—and by the time it was over, it had started to rain.

You had tried to run, but you never made it past the park across from the restaurant. You had ended up in a gazebo in a clearing surrounded by willow trees and spent that night listening to the rain and falling in love.

“You okay over there?” Yoongi called out, bringing Jungkook back down from his memories.

“Hmm?” he turned to look at the older member. “Yeah. Why?”

“Been staring at your reflection for the past five minutes,” Yoongi said, taking off his headphones and resting them around his neck. “Is this an existential crisis or something I shouldn’t even bother asking about?”

Jungkook smiled softly. “Probably a little bit of both.”

“Alright.” Yoongi felt himself smile in response. “Stay safe.”

The younger boy nodded, took a deep breath, and glanced at his reflection one last time. Unconsciously, he brought his lip ring between his teeth and held it there for a second, before finally exiting the room.

He walked two doors down and knocked on yours. You opened it almost right away, but his heart still managed to do twelve and a half somersaults while he waited.

And then, as soon as you smiled and opened the door wider, inviting him inside, he could tell he was so fucked that he wasn’t sure if he could even fully grasp the extent of it.

You were wearing a loose pale blue shirt with a dark blue sports bra peeking through, paired with black biker shorts. The outfit seemed fitting for the occasion, but it made him lean against the door frame to avoid losing his balance. His mind was overflowing with thoughts and memories of you, to the point where he was sure they would start leaking if he opened his mouth.

Thankfully, you spoke up first as you went over to grab your backpack—smaller than the one you carried your belongings in during flights—from your bed. He found himself wondering how many bags you’d brought to Europe in a desperate attempt to distract himself from his pestilent memories.

“How’s Hoseok?” you asked.

Somewhere deep in his mind, Jungkook recalled walking the older member to his room when they got to the hotel, because as soon as Hoseok’s headache subsided, he really struggled to stay awake. But now, as he watched you move around the room—literally not doing anything other than gathering your phone and the hotel keycard—Jungkook found himself unable to form a single coherent sentence.

You paused and looked at him questionably.

He figured he’d better speak up instead of standing here like a complete idiot.

“He, uh—he’s—you know, he’s, uh, taking a nap,” he managed to say, mentally kicking himself. He sounded more composed when he wasn’t speaking. He cleared his throat and crossed his arms over his chest to get it together. “He said he’s fine. I think he meant it this time. Some colour returned to his face.”

“That’s good,” you said with a thoughtful nod. “He’s probably tired now. I’ll text him to let me know when he’s awake.”

“Yeah,” Jungkook agreed, listening to you but only half-hearing everything as you walked around your room, looking for something.

You weren’t sharing this room with anyone, but not by choice. Your room happened to be used to store everything that was too dangerous to keep on the bus for several nights during the stop in Amsterdam. 75% of the space here was filled with boxes of instruments and stage clothes.

Now you stood in the very centre of the room and somehow managed to look so effortlessly captivating that Jungkook wouldn’t have noticed if a robber jumped in and carried all the furniture out in comic slow-motion. He brought his hands over his face while you weren’t looking, but it did little to slow his heartbeat down.

“So, anyway,” he said with a strained voice, “are you ready?”

You bit your lip—why, why, why, had he not died enough times since he came here?—as you hesitated. “Yeah, but, as I’ve said before—”

“Then let’s go, please,” he cut you off shakily before you could assure him that he didn’t have to do this.

He thought he did. Although not to win the bet.

He had to do this because he knew you wanted this, and he’d rather throw himself into one of the canals than miss the chance to make at least one of your dreams come true.

He also had to get out of your hotel room, because being in control of himself was starting to seem like a theoretical idea more than an actual mechanism that he could use.

While you locked your room behind you, Jungkook turned to see Sid and Jude exit the elevator at the end of the hallway. Sid noticed him and stopped, punching Jude on the chest to get his attention. Already in the process of swinging back at him, Jude lifted his eyes and caught sight of Jungkook, too. Even from across the hall, Jungkook could see the impressed smiles on their faces when they noticed you next to him.

He looked away immediately, but still felt a sobering sensation in his chest. Once again, he repeated to himself that he wasn’t doing this for the bet.

However, he couldn’t help but doubt if that made any difference. What he was doing now still counted towards winning the bet.

But he knew he didn’t have the strength to avoid you or to justify the bet to himself in any other way. He’d given in last night. And he was barely holding himself together right now.

This was it. He’d made a choice.

It was a choice he should have made four years ago, instead of watching you walk away. Instead of thinking he could drown out the bitterness of you leaving with drinks that Sid, Jude, and Minjun served him.

It was you. It should have always been you.

Fortunately, his friends had already gone to their hotel room when you looked up, so you didn’t have to see them.

And, when the two of you found yourselves alone in the elevator, Sid and Jude were the last thing on Jungkook’s mind.

He felt you glance at him, but avoided meeting your eyes. He kept biting his lip, acutely aware of how long the ride down from the tenth floor should take and all the things that you could do during it.

“White looks good on you,” you commented, looking away from him.

Reflexively, he looked down at his shirt. “You think so?”

“Yeah,” you said. Then, glancing at him again, you added, “somehow brings out your eyes.”

This made his smile ridiculously big, the reaction amplified by the casual tone of your voice. You sounded like you’d just pointed out to someone that their shoes were untied – a helpful observation, nothing more.

“Ah,” he said, unable to resist. “Brings out my eyes, does it?”

You shot him a glare from the corner of your eye.

“I take it back,” you said. “White looks awful on you, never wear it again.”

He laughed, but did not lose his footing as he teased, “well, if it bothers you that much, I can take it off.”

You started to smile—an automatic reaction when you heard him laugh—but then widened your eyes instead.

“Please don’t do that in such a public place,” you said.

The alarm in your voice amused him endlessly. In your defence, you knew him well enough to know that he would actually do it if you challenged him.

“Oh?” he inquired, leaning closer with a playful grin. “Where would you like me to undress for you, then?”

You glanced at him and then very ceremoniously looked away. “That’s n-not what I meant.”

He laughed again and you were relieved when the elevator doors opened in the lobby a moment later, because you were certain that the warmth in your chest was starting to radiate off of you.

Jungkook wanted to rent bicycles for the whole day, but you convinced him that you’d both already be tired after a few hours. He knew you had a point, but he wanted to spend as much time with you as possible and he was fine if bikes were, really, the reason for it.

In the end, you agreed on three hours, which was already too much as both of you began to complain about your thighs hurting after the first hour and a half.

But Amsterdam was beautiful, and it made the ache worth it.

Subtle tinges of decay and dampness, along with the stunning trees, still in miraculous full bloom despite it being mid-September, all tickled your senses as you and Jungkook rode your bikes through the streets of Amsterdam. The canals sparkled on your left while beautiful buildings lined the street on your right, tourists coursing back and forth down the pavement.

The wheel of the bike felt rough against your palms, and you wished you had brought gloves, but the sights, the smells, and even the noise of the crowds made it easier to endure the slight discomfort.

When you caught up to Jungkook, the two of you exchanged a glance. Both of your eyes were glittering, smiles widening, your hair blowing in the wind.

You realised that the sights here looked remarkably like the postcards your uncle had brought you. But being here felt completely different from what you’d expected when you looked at the cards.

Wordlessly, Jungkook smirked and challenged you to a race. Laughing as you sped up to catch up to him again, you took a deep breath and closed your eyes for just a second, savouring it all.

The feeling in your chest right now was something you could never capture in a postcard to bring home.

Another hour later, the two of you returned your bicycles and Jungkook persuaded you to get some ice cream. You had to agree. At that point, you were tired and a little dizzy, and the sun was too bright to do anything but attempt to cool yourselves down.

You sat down on a bench by the canal and Jungkook noticed the almost constant smile on your face. He felt a surge of ideas of all that he could do in hopes of making you smile like this again.

“Did you ever think we’d be here?” he asked after a minute, looking back at the canal. “You and me.”

You looked at him. “What do you mean? In Amsterdam?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Back in university. When you used to look at those postcards above your desk, did you ever imagine us being here?”

You blinked, surprised once again by how much of your conversation in Paris and how much of your life from four years ago he remembered.

“You remember the postcards,” you said softly.

“Of course,” he said, suddenly turning solemn. “I’m sorry I never asked what they meant to you.”

“No, it’s—” you stopped in the middle of shaking your head. Then chose to just answer his previous question instead, “I don’t know. Back then, I think I imagined us everywhere.”

He smiled as he adjusted to the irregular beating of his heart. It was a new constant when he was with you. And it was a health hazard, he knew. And still, he’d missed it.

“Was I in a band in your imagination?” he asked.

“Absolutely not,” you said, pausing while he laughed so hard that he nearly doubled over. You didn’t think your response deserved this reaction, but it drew a smile from you regardless. “And I wasn’t your manager. We were normal people, doing normal things.”

He stopped laughing and looked at you, a slight furrow in his brow. “Wait. Are we not?”

You gave him a look. “Are we?”

“Why not?” he asked with a shrug as he took a bite of his waffle cone before the ice cream could fully melt. “Who’s to say what’s normal?”

You continued to watch him, several classes of statistics and standard deviation under your belt. “Do you want an honest answer?”

“No,” Jungkook said without hesitation. He looked ahead as he spoke, “I like to think that ‘being normal’ is just a construct.”

“Well, it is, but—”

“Don’t do it,” he interrupted. “If you mention statistics, I will—respectfully—toss you right into that canal.” He was the one who paused here as your smile widened at his threat. After a moment, he continued, “let me romanticise this. In my head, we are normal people.”

You agreed with a noncommittal shake of your head. “Okay, sure.”

“To be honest,” he said then, “I never imagined us here.”

“No?”

“In my mind, we were always in our little world. The campus, our dorms, our family homes,” he explained, gesturing with his hand as he listed the places that the two of you had spent years in. “That’s as far as I imagined us.”

You swallowed an unexpected lump in your throat and felt it go down heavily, catching on your trachea, stumbling around your lungs, and forcing you to clear your throat as you still tasted something bitter on your tongue.

It was a nice day. You didn’t want to rip open old wounds and pour salt on them just to see what would happen.

“Well, you’re not far off,” you said, brushing invisible dust off your shorts and focusing on your ice cream for a moment before you added, “that’s as far as we went.”

Jungkook sensed the discomfort in your words, but did not understand the cause.

“What do you mean?” he asked. “We’re here, aren’t we? The furthest I imagined us was, maybe, 100 kilometres south of your mum’s house. By the sea. And now we’re in fucking Amsterdam.”

He was right, you’d made it so far. But even though you felt your shoulders relax a little, you still insisted, “it’s different now.”

“How is it different?” he questioned further.

“Well, for one, we’re not in university anymore,” you said obviously enough. “No campus to come back to.”

“Bless that. I wouldn’t want to go back now.”

“And we’re not together anymore.”

Cringing at the unnecessary addition, Jungkook managed to say, “but we are.”

You looked down as you finished your ice cream and kicked some pebbles with the soles of your sneakers. “You know what I mean.”

“I know,” he replied, not giving up as he looked at you for a moment before stumbling a bit quietly, a bit awkwardly, “but, um. We are together. Still.”

You lifted your eyes to meet his, but looked away after barely a minute, frightened by how much of your shared history you could see there.

You couldn’t do this. Five minutes in the dark bus, with no one but the two of you in your bunk, was one thing. You could pretend it didn’t mean anything, even though his taste still lingered in your mouth.

But this conversation was not something that you could pretend to forget in five minutes. This was four years of silence. Of locked doors, deleted pictures, and wet pillowcases.  

Four years of forced solitude, tall, thick walls, and strict boundaries.

Some of them you’d crossed.

But now you were here. And you couldn’t cross this one. You couldn’t reminisce with him while ignoring the weight of your break-up.

Exhaling, you pursed your lips. “You know what? You’re right. We’re as together now as we were back then.”

Jungkook felt his muscles stiffen. The last bites of his ice cream were completely tasteless.

“What—what is that supposed to mean?” he asked, not blinking as he watched you.

He was cold all of a sudden, he realised. Sitting right under the warm sun of September, and shivering. He suspected that ice cream had very little to do with this.

“You know what it means,” you replied, unaware of how much your vague response affected him because you did not look at him.

It felt like he was speeding down the streets of Amsterdam on his bicycle, and suddenly, someone poked a stick into the wheel, forcing him to fly off the bike and land on something very sharp. Something very confusing. Very painful.

“No,” he said slowly. “I don’t think I do.”

You looked up finally, more out of confusion than anything else. You weren’t sure if he was pretending, playing another stupid game, or if he genuinely did not understand.

He was watching you with a frown, clenching his jaw harder with each passing second that you did not respond. He genuinely did not understand.

“It means,” you said, “that this was what our dates used to be like. Like two co-workers trying to have a meaningful conversation.”

Jungkook didn’t know which word to react to first: ‘co-workers’ or ‘trying’, so he just went quiet.

“And, at what point in our relationship,” he asked after a minute, “did you figure that was how you felt?”

You heard the bitterness in his voice and felt your irritation grow. He had some audacity to question you like this after the way your relationship ended.

“It wasn’t how I felt,” you said, nearly spitting the word out. “It’s how it was.”

He scoffed. “Don’t try to make this objective. It��s clearly just your own perception.”

Your eyebrows rose involuntarily, your heart reacting to his words before your mind could.

“How could it be?” you argued, clearly in disbelief that he had a different point of view. “We barely talked. The longest conversation we had, at that point, was when you had to describe the fucking police station that you were in after you got arrested.”

“At what point?” he asked again, frustration even more evident in his voice.

“I don’t know,” you shot back, exasperated. “A few months before we broke up, maybe? We weren’t spending any time together anymore. And if we were, then your asshole friends were there with us. Everyone who knew us could tell we were going to break up eventually.”

Looking away, Jungkook squeezed his lips together, running his tongue over the inside of his teeth. His entire body seemed to go numb and then suddenly tense up again.

He didn’t know how you got here, how you reached this conversation, but he had a vague feeling that you were meant to talk about this sooner or later.

It wasn’t easy, though. He had to force himself to keep looking at you, force himself to speak, to say the things he’d only managed to put into song lyrics until this point.

“I couldn’t,” he finally said.

You frowned. “What?”

“I couldn’t tell,” he said, a self-deprecating expression on his face. He continued speaking while intentionally gazing into the distance, “you may find that shocking to believe, but until the day you said we shouldn’t be together anymore, I thought we were in love.”

“You literally just said that you could barely imagine us outside of my mum’s house,” you retorted.

“That’s because I never wanted us to be anywhere else!” he snapped, looking at you with a level of anger that you’d never seen in all the years you’d known him. “I liked what we had.”

“We had nothing!” you argued, your hands in the air. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed some tourists doing double-takes as they walked by. You were far too engrossed in the conversation to control your volume. “You went out every night and caused a scene every time you brought your friends over. You went along with them when they tried to kill themselves drag racing, despite my protests. You didn’t even—”

“I named my car after you!” Jungkook interjected, even though the car wasn’t, technically, his. It had been a gift from Sid, so all of his friends could race together, but he thought his point still stood. He used the car, and he wanted it to have your name.

“Right,” you acknowledged his—largely pointless—interruption, “and I’m sure that would have been very meaningful if you hadn’t crashed it on your first fucking drive. Like I told you that you would.”

“Yeah, well.” He moved his jaw, poking his cheek with his tongue. “At least I loved you until the very end.”

That was a lie, the past tense he’d used. But he looked at you and the fire in your eyes intimidated him. He knew you wouldn’t believe him if he told you he’d never stopped being in love with you.

“For your information, I didn’t break up with you because I stopped loving you,” you said with an angry huff. Your following explanation seemed to rip the bandages you’d carefully glued on the gaping wounds in your chest. “I broke up with you because I felt like you stopped loving me.”

He felt a sudden chill, and—immediately—frostbite. As though he’d gone out dancing in a blizzard the night before, and the blood in his veins had frozen, a bewildering cold gripping his chest.

You thought he had stopped loving you.

Jungkook swallowed hard as he listened and couldn’t open his mouth to reply. Couldn’t lift his eyes off the ground.

He didn’t know how long he stayed completely still, alternating between seemingly looking at himself from the outside, and listening to the deafening screeching inside of his mind.

He was paralysed when he felt you stand up from the bench. When he saw your shadow move away and, eventually, disappear.

You hadn’t said another word and he remembered how familiar this feeling was.

He remembered standing in his dorm room, speechless and angry with himself, after you stormed out because he had told you he already had plans; he was going out with Sid, Jude, and Minjun again—racing. Or drinking. Or one after the other, not necessarily in the same order.

Maybe you were right.

He had stopped acting like your boyfriend long before he actually stopped being one.

Because the two of you had wordlessly agreed to never discuss your relationship or your break-up again, four years have passed without any closure whatsoever—and only now he realised that he wasn’t the one who was hurt.

He realised how much he’d hurt you.

All this time, he was insecure about the end of your relationship because you were the one who broke up with him. You were the one who left.

He never looked for reasons within himself. He stupidly, blindly, thought he hadn’t done anything that warranted this. He thought you just didn’t want him anymore. He thought these things happened sometimes.

He never thought he was the one who made that happen.

He didn’t know what he was doing now.

How could he even attempt to get back together with you without making up for his mistakes? Making up for his unforgivable ignorance?

He’d apologise—he’d have to, he could feel his entire skin itching the longer he sat there, not looking for you—but would it mean anything, if you didn’t believe that he changed?

Had he changed?

He was sitting here, alone, after all. Because of a bet that he’d made with the same people who broke you up the first time.

Suddenly, Jungkook looked up. He knew how to answer all of his questions.

He had to act, first of all, instead of passively regretting everything he’d done and hadn’t done.

“The bet is over,” Jungkook declared as soon as he threw open the door of Sid’s hotel room, not bothering to knock.

He wanted to get back together with you, without any underlying conditions, secrets, or bets.

Just you and him.

All three of his friends were here and they were, understandably, surprised. Although Minjun’s shock quickly turned into pride—and Jungkook felt his heart flutter. He needed this.

“What?” Jude asked, poking his head out of Sid’s bathroom and sniffling before he brought his hand over his nose. “You’re back together?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Jungkook replied firmly. “I’m not doing this anymore.”

Sid walked out of the bathroom next—Jungkook had no interest in what they were doing in there—with some sort of a mix of a smirk and a scowl on his face.

“Well, you can’t just decide that,” he said, wiping his hands on a towel even though they seemed dry, “can you?”

“Uh, yes, I can,” Jungkook argued, feeling foolish to be having this conversation. It seemed as silly now as it had before, when he had returned from Paris and Sid forcefully prolonged the bet. “I made the bet—”

“We made it, too,” Sid cut him off, his voice stern. He treated this like a legitimate deal, a legally binding contract almost. “And we don’t think it can be over just because you’re afraid of losing.”

“I’m not afraid of losing,” he said and for a moment, he was surprised to realise that he truly meant it. His bike seemed so trivial when compared to all that he could lose if he won it back. “I’m just not fucking doing this with you anymore.”

“Well, then you lose by default,” Sid shrugged. “I keep the bike.”

“Actually, we keep the—” Jude was interjecting, but Jungkook took a large step towards Sid, stopping just inches from his face. It caused Jude to stop talking immediately.

“You don’t keep anything,” Jungkook snarled, emphasising every syllable, despite seeing how little it meant to Sid. “If the bet is over, there’s no winners or losers.”

“But the bet isn’t over,” Sid countered with a self-assured grin. “Not unless all involved parties agree to it. Right, Minjun?”

Jungkook glanced at the only remaining person in this room.

Minjun sounded uncomfortable as he began, “well, to be honest—”

“Careful now,” Sid cut in sharply. “You’re supposed to enforce the rules of the bet.”

Of course, what he really meant was, you’re supposed to obey me.

Jungkook saw Minjun hesitate.

“Look, man, it’s a bet,” he said. Jungkook felt himself exhale in immeasurable relief. He had someone on his side. He had a friend. Minjun continued, “it’s literally just a game. If he doesn’t want to do it anymore, then—”

“Then tough shit, isn’t it?” Sid’s tone was menacing. “Considering he’s going to have to do it anyway.”

“It was stupid—”

Sid was so indecently unfazed that he was practically inviting a punch in the face as he replied, “he shouldn’t have agreed to it if it was stupid.”

His sneer made Jungkook perk up.

“I didn’t agree to shit. It was you—” he started to say, then cut himself off. He did agree to it. But he couldn’t help but still feel manipulated. Tricked.

Likely for the first time in his life, Jungkook could see—with bitter clarity—that these people were bad for him. But he’d called them friends for so long, he’d done so much with them, never really facing any long-term consequences, that he never even questioned it.

Until now.

Until he realised that there was a long-term consequence to his friendship with Sid: your break-up.

“I’m not doing this,” Jungkook finally finished.

“Not doing what?” Sid asked with a laugh that seemed louder than usual, strengthened by whatever he’d done in the bathroom before he got interrupted. “If you back out, you lose. The bike goes to me—”

“And me,” Jude interjected. Jungkook was this close to knocking them both out, but he knew it’d bring him exactly zero extra points with his band or with you.

“—what’s not clear to you about this?” Sid finished, ignoring Jude and the glare on Jungkook’s face.

“I won the first bet,” Jungkook hissed, “so the bike is, technically, mine, but that’s—”

“Technically, you didn’t,” Sid interrupted, pouting to convey fake-pity. “And you won’t win this one, either. That’s clearly why you’re trying so hard to get out of this. It’s what you do. You never fight if you see that you won’t immediately succeed.”

It stung – because he knew that Sid was right. But it also felt unfair, because Sid was the one who made it impossible for Jungkook to succeed at anything unless he excelled at it on the first try. Sid simply couldn’t voluntarily surround himself with people who were better than him, so he put in great effort to make sure they weren’t.

“I’m not—I’m just realising how fucking immature you are,” Jungkook retorted, trying to control the volume of his voice as he knew his frustration only benefitted Sid.

Sid laughed and leaned in even closer—his nose nearly brushed against Jungkook. Once again, he felt irritated that despite barely being shorter than Sid, he was still treated like the last living hobbit.

“Oh, the little baby thinks I’m immature because he realises that we’re not here to cater to his wishes,” Sid taunted. If the edges of Jungkook’s vision weren’t so red, he might have pointed out the irony to him; Sid was the one who made a living by forcing people to favour him. “Maybe you should have considered that before making the bet. You’ve never won against me. And you never will.”

“Sid,” Minjun cut in again. “Let it go. You can have your fun at someone else’s expense.”

He pulled something out of his pocket, and Jungkook’s breath caught in his throat when he recognised the keys to his Katana. Sid had a similar reaction, except his surprise quickly turned to disdain.

Who does he think he is, Sid’s scorn seemed to be asking, to defy me?

“You might want to think twice about it, Minjun,” Sid said out loud, his voice dangerously calm. He pulled away from Jungkook to give Minjun a warning look. “You think this is a funny little game, but I bet it won’t be so funny when it has very real consequences.”

Jungkook turned his head in time to witness Minjun’s face drain of colour, but he couldn’t comprehend this reaction—not in a way that made sense, at least. His only assumption was outrageous.

Would Sid really take this so far? Would he really exaggerate the significance of this bet so much?

“What—what is he talking about?” Jungkook asked Minjun. “Your parents?”

Minjun simply hung his head, his knuckles turning white from the force of his grip on the keys in his hand. He didn’t say anything, and Jungkook knew it was true.

Sid was threatening Minjun’s family—the jobs of his parents, both of whom depended on Sid’s mother. Without her, they would still have enough money to survive, even keep and maintain all of their real estate, but Sid’s mother had the power to blacklist them from the industry. And she would, Jungkook knew. She’d do anything for her only child.

Sid was using Minjun’s parents as leverage for something as stupid as a fucking bet that Minjun did not even make. A bet that was never supposed to even get this far.

That was the point he was proving.

Jungkook narrowed his eyes. He recognised what this was really about, these tireless attempts to establish superiority.

Sid was the great-grandson of one of the top conglomerates in the country. The only downside to his life was that his inheritance came from his mother’s side of the family. As a result, he was taken less seriously among his family—because the Old Money world that he lived in functioned only within their favourite -isms: sexism and racism.

Sid was no one in the eyes of his relatives. So, he was going to do everything to make sure he was someone here.

“That’s what I thought,” Sid barked at Minjun’s submissive silence. He turned to Jungkook. “So, what’s it going to be? You admit your defeat now, or do you want to delay it? I’m generous enough to wait. I know I’ll win in the end. I always do.”

He always had a point to prove to an audience that listened. And his audience was here, in this room.

But Jungkook was done listening.

“You know what?” he said. He glanced at Minjun—who stood there helplessly and miserably—before looking back at Sid and spitting, “I’m not going to fucking entertain you anymore. Fuck you.”

Without waiting for either of them to respond, Jungkook stormed out of Sid’s room, slamming the door behind him. He didn’t even consider the possible complaints from other hotel guests who probably heard him throw the door open fifteen minutes ago, and then leave again in an equally furious manner.

Blind to everything around him, he marched over to your room and knocked on your door before he lost the angry courage.

He needed you. He’d always had.

You appeared surprised when you opened the door and saw him in the hall.

“Hey,” he said, looking somehow very small, despite his frame filling the entire doorway. “Can I come in? We should talk.”

You watched him for a minute.

The two of you had just had your first fight about your relationship since you started working together and decided to leave everything that had happened between you in the past.

Neither of you knew if this argument was a good thing (closure?) or a bad thing (a final fight in your long list of fights).

But maybe today had to be the day you found out.

“Yeah,” you decided, stepping aside to let him in. “We should.”

chapter title credits: bad omens, “the letdown”

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[one-squash-one-end]

I wrote a giant Raven Cycle analysis

Hi! Over the last year or so I've been working on a sort of essay about various themes in the raven cycle series, and I finally finished it a few weeks ago.

It is titled: "Why I love The Raven Cycle - An excessive analysis of the themes of friendship, queerness and growing up".

And since tumblr loves its meta (and bc I love peer validation) I've decided to start uploading it bit by bit here, making this the masterpost (if I can figure out the logistics of the linking lmao, bear with me)

(beware of spoilers up to greywaren starting at like 3b!)

Introduction

What even is the Raven Cycle?

Trust me, the characters are queer as fuck and I can prove it a) Blue Sargent b) Gansey c) Adam Parrish d) Ronan Lynch e) Noah f) Henry Cheng g) Honorary mentions

The Gangsey is a polycule

Analyzing the reoccurring themes a) Friendship b) Being a teen/growing up c) (Found) Family d) Magic (as a metaphor) e) Further themes I appreciate

Drawing a conclusion

Click here to start with the introductory parts!

1. Introduction

So here’s the thing: I love fiction almost as much as I love my friends. There’s something deeply comforting about the escapism, even if the book actually makes me want to scream and throw it on the floor (only one book has been thrown so far, I promise!).  Fiction is a healthy thing to occupy my thoughts with: headcanons! Quotes being on loop in my brain! Just fandoms!

And for me, if I am hooked on a book (series), it does not even need a good plot where a lot of things happen. In fact, I would say that my enjoyment of a book is made up of 30% plot and about 70% characters and vibes. If the characters are bland, if they do not make me feel much emotion, it likely won’t be more than 4 stars (additional info: I am way too nice rating books!). I really, really need to love the characters, to be able to relate to some aspects of them, or it just won’t become an obsession.

Since I have already started explaining that a bit, let’s look at this question: What is important to make a book special to me? 1. I need to cry reading it. 2. I have to think about it often, even weeks to months after having read it. 3. Obviously, I need to love the characters. 4. I need to be in the fandom! This can be hard with some books, but the internet is a whimsical space allowing you to find at least a small number of people who are obsessed with a work of fiction to a similar extent as you are.

Now, why am I elaborating on this so much? It’s because The Raven Cycle did all that for me. It is my favorite comfort book series at the moment, for all those aspects mentioned, but of course I cannot just leave it at that. No, I wrote a whole-ass analysis on headcanons and some of its themes. You’re welcome.

2. What even is The Raven Cycle?

The Raven Cycle is all I adore and live for (next to my friends). So, naturally, it’s a book series, specifically a four book young adult contemporary fantasy series by American author Maggie Stiefvater. The books in question are: The Raven Boys (2012), The Dream Thieves (2013), Blue Lily, Lily Blue (2014) and The Raven King (2016), and yes I will admit that the publishing dates are a bit of a red flag. There is also the very relevant follow-up series called The Dreamer Trilogy (Call Down The Hawk, Mister Impossible, Greywaren), but it’s a lot less easy to get into that here as I do not know these entire books by heart, so I’ll stick to the original tetralogy here.

To stick to red flags, the books are set in the fictional Henrietta, a rural town in non-fictional Virginia, US, in the 2010s. However, that doesn’t really say *that* much about the plot, so let me summarize that really quick, because I can do better than the official synopsis! (Or let’s pretend I can.)

Blue Sargent comes from a family of psychics, yet she does not have any powers of her own. Even worse, she is a bit of an amplifier for the others, meaning she is always somehow but never directly involved in the business. As if that isn’t enough for an identity crisis, every psychic she has ever met has told her that her kiss would kill her true love. Yikes.

But because she is that amplifier, she comes to a church watch on St. Mark’s Eve, where psychics see the spirits of those to die within the following year. It’s important business, but to her it’s really just staring into the dark. Until she does actually see a spirit: That of Gansey. Of course this is not a coincidence. No, to add to this teen’s mount of problems, there are only two reasons why a non-seer would see someone’s spirit: They are their true love, or they killed them. Or, in Blue’s case, maybe both.

The aforementioned Gansey is Henrietta’s Golden Boy, the son of politicians (read: he’s fucking loaded). He does not run with the Republicans though, he runs with dead Welsh kings, meaning he has been searching for the probably dead, presumably sleeping Welsh king Glendower (*1350; †1416; yikes) for the past like seven years. Why the fuck would he do that? Well, legend says that he will grant a wish to whoever wakes him, and our favorite PTSD-ridden guy really wants that favor.

Aiding him are fellow Aglionby students Adam Parrish, Ronan Lynch and Noah Czerny, plus Henry Cheng, though only a lot later in the series, but I really did not want to leave out that menace (affectionately) here. The paths of Blue and the boys cross because of Gansey’s search for Glendower, plus the fact that Blue works at a popular pizza place, but that’s a lot less whimsical. And, well, there’s the implication that Gansey might also be her true love, but perhaps she just kills him because of his bad fashion sense, it would be justified. Anyway, in true Famous Five fashion (Ronan is the dog; I won’t elaborate, the girls that get it, get it) they are of course not the only ones searching for the king, so it’s not completely a wholesome friend bonding activity all the way through.

Be prepared for: friendship and growing up, lots of treasure hunting, family mysteries, magical forests, illegal and slightly distasteful activities (our favorite of course), but most of all, heavily queer-coded (or even canonically queer) characters. Be Gay, Do Crime.

[cecilysass]

Honest Man (2/3)

Read on AO3 | Tagging @today-in-fic

Chapter Two

Mulder approaches the bar to find the bartender with her arms folded and her expression weary. She’s speaking to Bill and his friends in a condescending monotone.

“So your choices are that he can call a cab, one of y’all can take him home, or I can contact local law enforcement,” she is saying with an extended sigh. “He can’t stay. This is a place of business.”

Bill Scully doesn’t appear to be listening. He is bent over on a barstool, his forehead resting against the bartop. To his right, a group of men have gathered around him, nodding solemnly at the bartender. They look so serious Mulder would think they were attending a wake if it weren’t for the guy with the pink and silver cardboard hat that says “Lordy, Lordy, look who’s 40.”

“Yes, ma’am, we understand,” one of Bill’s friends is saying. “Thing is, we’re in the middle of a birthday party, and if one of us leaves now to take him home, we don’t have enough cars for everyone else. Give us a second to figure it out.”

He lifts a finger and turns to consult with his companions. The bartender watches them skeptically, pursing her lips in disapproval as she goes to tend to another customer.

Mulder takes the opportunity to discreetly trot up to Scully’s brother and sit on the stool next to him. “Hey Bill,” he says quietly, speaking to the man’s back.

Bill moans a little, lifting his head up from the bar to peek at Mulder through one eye.

“You know, I could drive you home,” offers Mulder, leaning over to be heard. Bill doesn’t answer.

Mulder leans his head to the side and clears his throat to attract the attention of Bill’s companions. “Hey, uh, I’m happy to drive Bill home. I know him, and I’m entirely sober. My car is here. It’s not a problem.”

“Oh yeah?” One of Bill’s friends, an early 40s black man a little taller and wider than Mulder, looks interested in this option. “Isn’t this the guy you were talking to before, Scully? He a friend of yours?”

“No,” Bill answers with sudden conviction. He sits up and swivels to speak to his friend. “Not a friend. A son of a bitch. The guy who ruined my sister’s life, Hal.”

Bill’s friends look at one another uneasily, as though not sure what to say in response.

“Listen, I don’t know, man,” Hal says to Mulder, scowling. “We don’t know you.”

“I’m his sister’s partner,” Mulder says apologetically. “At work. At the F.B.I.. Here.” He stands up and reaches into his pocket to pull out his badge, flashing it to Hal. “He doesn’t like me very much, but I promise—I’m a friend of the family, I can get him home safely. Are you staying at your mom’s, Bill?”

“Yeah,” Bill says, his voice muffled by the bar.

“I can take him to Maggie’s,” Mulder says. “I know where it is.”

“You wouldn’t have to pay for a cab or anything then,” a shorter man points out to Bill encouragingly, clearly hopeful about this solution to the problem. “You should go with him, Scully.”

“See, normally Bill doesn’t drink so much,” Hal explains to Mulder, his eyebrows knitting together. “We didn’t realize… we would’ve made him slow down. There’s something on his mind tonight, something with his wife. We didn’t plan for something like this.”

“Shut up, Hal,” Bill mutters face down into the bar.

The bartender has reappeared. Hands on her hips, she fixes Mulder with a significant look. “If you’re going to be the one to drive him, you better get going,” she says. “He already got sick in the back hall. He’s too intoxicated to stay.”

“All right, sure,” Mulder agrees, trying to sound cheerful, although he is suddenly filled with dread that Bill might get sick in his car, too. He looks down at the hulking figure leaned over the bar and is amazed for a moment that this is his life, his Friday night plans.

The Fox Mulder of ten years ago would have unquestionably been headed to Diana’s to have his brains fucked out.

He rests his hand lightly on Bill’s shoulder. “Come on. Let’s get you into bed.”

“That might work on your dates, asshole,” Bill says, slurring again, “but I’m not that kind of girl.”

Mulder chuckles, trying to put his arm under Bill’s so he can lift him to his feet. “That’s funny, Bill. I didn’t know you were funny.”

It’s an awkward lift, because Bill is such a tall man, but Mulder manages to get him off the barstool, with some hesitant assistance from Hal. Bill’s other friends watch with relieved expressions.

“Where’d she go, anyway?” Bill says, finally stumbling to his feet and squinting to see behind Mulder. “Your date?”

“She left,” Mulder says simply. He pats Bill’s arm playfully. “You’re my date now, big guy.”

“Don’t touch me again, you son of a bitch,” Bill growls fiercely, spinning unsteadily towards Mulder.

“Okay, okay,” Mulder says, backing away. “Then you’re going to have to walk by yourself to the car. You got it?”

Bill glowers at him, but manages to follow him out of the bar with only occasional stumbles.

***

Old Town Alexandria is brightly lit, festive, thrumming with groups of people milling around on a Friday night. When they arrive at Mulder’s car, Bill discovers that the seat is adjusted for a different Scully.

He tries to shoehorn his long legs into the car, cursing colorfully under his breath. Mulder watches this unwieldy process while gritting his teeth from the driver’s seat. It would probably make him laugh under other circumstances.

Mulder gets out, jogs around to the other side, and hesitantly bends down to show Bill how to adjust the seat with the lever. He then tries to demonstrate in clumsy charades where exactly the seat belt buckle fastens.

Eventually he has to precariously lean his body over Bill’s lap to fasten it himself, wondering if awkward moments with Scully’s brother will just continue to keep one-upping themselves. Bill sits sullenly there as Mulder clicks the seatbelt in place, his arms folded over his chest.

Mulder guesses he’s not going to get a thank you card any time soon.

Now Bill sits facing the front window in sour silence as they drive through Alexandria. Mulder is having a hard time distinguishing between what is a sulky expression and what is a warning sign of impending nausea.

“You feeling all right?” Mulder says.

“Shut up,” Bill replies gruffly.

“Need to pull over or anything?”

“I said shut up.”

“It’ll take us about 35 minutes to get to your mom’s house,” offers Mulder. “Do you want to—”

“No.” Bill’s tone changes abruptly. He turns to Mulder urgently. “Not my mom’s.”

“I thought that’s where you were staying.”

“‘I’m too drunk,” he says adamantly. “I can’t go back and see Mom and Tara and Matty. I don’t want them to see me like this. Don’t go there.”

“But won’t they … worry?”

“Take me to Dana’s,” Bill says. “Please. Dana will know how to handle it.”

Mulder’s eyebrows raise uncertainly. “Maybe we should call her first.”

“Nah. Just drive there,” Bill says. “Dana owes me. I helped her sometimes when she was drunk … when she was younger.”

Mulder nods slowly, filing away that fascinating tidbit for later.

“Okay, sure,” Mulder says, keeping his tone friendly. “That’s closer, anyway. We can be at Scully’s in less than twenty minutes.”

Bill grunts in some way that seems to indicate approval. He leans his head back against the seat rest and goes quiet again. Gradually his whole frame begins to tilt towards the passenger window, and Mulder assumes he’s probably fallen asleep.

That’s for the best, really. Much less uncomfortable. Mulder mulls over the idea of turning on the radio. Or better, maybe fishing out his phone and giving Scully some warning they’re coming.

“Didn’t you go … to Harvard or something?” Bill’s gravelly voice speaks up suddenly, startling Mulder.

Mulder eyes the side of Bill’s neck warily. “No.”

“Yeah, you did.” Bill rolls his limp head around to look at him. His blue eyes are bloodshot. “Dana’d brag about your fancy education. Back when she first got the job.”

Mulder swallows a smile. “Did she?” He’s delighted to imagine her talking about him like that, especially early in their partnership, when she always seemed so unimpressed.

“You have some … degree for shrinks. Harvard, right?”

“Oxford, actually. Psychology.”

“Whatever.” Bill lifts a shoulder apathetically. “The point is, you know about relationships.”

“About relationships?” Mulder repeats doubtfully.

“You’d know what to say.”

“What to say…?”

“You know,” Bill says impatiently. “When you’ve said the wrong thing.”

He crosses his arms again petulantly. For a few moments after this cryptic statement Mulder thinks he has given up talking, but then he continues.

“Tara told me she wanted to go back to work,” Bill says. “You know, her guidance counselor job. She’s a high school guidance counselor.”

“That’s good,” Mulder says cautiously, confused by the turn in conversation.

“It’s good? Who says it’s good to go back to work?” Bill asks, his voice rising in irritation.

Mulder doesn’t answer, feeling out of his depth.

“Matty isn’t that old. Really still a baby. I’m gone all the time.” Bill appears to be arguing with the front windshield now. “Mom never worked. She was always there.”

Mulder doesn’t know how to respond to that. It sounds classically, villainously sexist to him, but he doesn’t want to anger Bill again.

“But I don’t think I … said things too well when she told me,” Bill says, in a different tone of voice. “I didn’t say the right things.” He shakes his head slowly, some more somber emotion breaking over him like a wave. “I said … the wrong things.”

Mulder nods, watching him out of the corner of his eye as he drives.

“We had a fight,” Bill says to the windshield, and it seems to Mulder he’s now entirely forgotten who he’s actually talking to. “A big fight. This morning at my mom’s. And when I went out with the guys from the Academy tonight, I just …” He drifts off.

“Got drunk as a skunk?” suggests Mulder quietly.

“Yeah. I guess,” says Bill gruffly. He closes his eyes and releases a long breath. “So how do I fix it?”

There’s a pause as it sinks in precisely what Bill is asking.

Mulder clears his throat and tries to keep it light. “Bill, seriously, I’m the last guy on the planet who should be giving anyone marital advice.”

“I acted like a dick, I know I did,” Bill continues dully. “The job … is important to her. She misses going to work every morning and all that. Makes her happy. I acted like … some caveman. Like I was my dad. I just don’t know how to… how do I talk to her about it now?”

He brushes his knuckles over his eyes. Mulder isn’t sure if he is prepared to handle Bill Scully, Jr. actually crying in his car, but he feels an involuntary pang of sympathy.

“Well,” Mulder says, choosing his words carefully, “I’d say you should probably be completely honest. Tell her what you just told me. That you know you acted like a dick but you regret it. That you know how important the job is to her. And then … you know, try to listen to what she tells you. Really listen. Be willing to, uh, compromise.”

Bill turns to look at him, still aggressively rubbing his eyes, which seem wet. “Yeah, okay,” he says. “You think that’ll work?”

“Sure,” Mulder says, shrugging a shoulder. He’s not one to know a lot about success in relationships firsthand, but it seems like straightforward, foolproof enough advice to him.

“Hm.” Bill sniffs, quickly rubs his nose. Then he seems to relax and let his eyes fall close.

He is unsettlingly quiet for a few moments. Mulder sneaks a curious glance over at him, again wondering if he’s fallen asleep.

“Why do you do it? To Dana?” Bill mumbles, his eyes still closed. “I know you’re an asshole, but I kind of think you love her.”

Mulder stares numbly at the road and doesn’t respond right away. When he does, he finds that the truth unexpectedly slips out. “I do love her.”

“You have a fucked up way of showing it,” Bill murmurs.

“Scully and I are partners,” Mulder says by rote. “We’re not involved.”

Bill opens his eyes and gives him a look. “Both of you say that a lot.”

“It’s true.”

“My sister loves you so much that she’d do fucking anything for you, and you don’t even …” He drifts off, and he snorts. “I guess it’s not my business.”

Mulder wants to respond in all sorts of ways, like “Scully doesn’t do things because she loves me,” or “Scully is her own person and makes her own choices” or “You’re right, it’s not your business.” But it’s like his annoying-ass voice has finally run out of words to say.

“You know what? I’m gonna try what you said with Tara,” Bill whispers sleepily. “I really am.” His eyes droop exactly like his sister’s do when she’s tired. “I’m actually gonna do it. I love her, man. You do anything when you love her.” He closes his eyes for the remainder of the car ride.

***

When they arrive at Scully’s, it’s not that late, only about 10 o’clock, and Mulder has definitely banged on her door at worse hours and for worse reasons.

Yet he feels oddly anxious about this situation, like he’s the one who has done something he has to delicately explain.

He taps his finger against his hip in rapid rhythm as they wait for the door, her brother propped up against him like a giant sandbag. Bill’s alcohol must be soaking in cumulatively, because he seems to have become progressively more wasted, not less.

“Mulder?” comes Scully’s puzzled voice through the door. He doesn’t know exactly how much she can see through her peephole. Bill is slumping heavily on him now, though, and Mulder is buckling under the weight. He’s eager for Scully to let them in quickly.

“Scully,” he says in a strained voice through the door, “I’ve got a special delivery for you.”

They hear the metallic clicking of Scully’s various latches unlocking. Mulder gives Bill a reassuring pat and hoists his arm up higher on his shoulder.

“Bill?” gasps Scully. She is wearing some silvery silk pajamas, which is typical interrupted evening wear for her, but still always manages to give Mulder a little inappropriate thrill. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

“Dana,” Bill manages to mutter. He stumbles off of Mulder’s shoulder into her apartment. “How ya doin’, sis.”

“Is he … drunk?” Scully asks Mulder, stunned.

“In a manner comparable to a skunk,” Mulder confirms. “I ran into him in Alexandria. He was getting into some trouble, but it’s all worked out now, isn’t it, Bill?”

“Imma sit down,” announces Bill, sinking down on her sofa somewhere inside.

Her eyes wide, Scully runs her hand over her mouth in consternation, as if unsure whether to laugh or cry. “Come in, Mulder.” She turns back to her brother. “Do Mom and Tara know where you are, Bill?”

Bill has sunk backward on the sofa, his head lolling, looking up at the ceiling. He vaguely groans.

“I don’t think they do,” Mulder tells her. “He asked me to bring him here because he didn’t want them to see him like this. He said you owed him.” Mulder gives her a curious look and leans forward to add: “Looking forward to that story.”

A perfect roll of her eyes. “One youthful transgression, and you’re apparently obligated for life.” She huffs and locks up her door, then spins back around to Bill. “All right, Party Boy, let’s get you settled in the guest room. I’ll call Mom and Tara.”

***

It takes both Mulder and Scully’s full effort to get Bill safely ready for bed. Mulder would never have dreamed one day he would be struggling to help Scully take off Bill Scully’s shoes, dragging him into the bedroom, tucking him into bed. But he finds himself actually fluffing the pillow, encouraging the man to lie down.

“Best thing you can possibly do is to sleep it off,” Mulder advises in the world-weary tone of a wise old frat boy.

Bill has grasped Scully’s hand, and he seems to be solemnly pumping it up and down. “Thank you, Dana,” Bill whispers scratchily. “You’re a good, good sister. You know that? A good sister.”

“You’re welcome,” she says, faintly amused. “You’re right—I’m a world class sister. Now put your head down on the pillow, Bill.”

But Bill twists to the side and grabs hold of Mulder’s shirt, pulling him down towards him.

“Listen,” Bill says, leaning heavily into Mulder’s face. “Listen, man, thank you. For the advice about Tara. That was all right.”

Helplessly, Mulder looks up at Scully. She has a hand on her hip, and her eyes widen in surprise. She can’t contain an amused smirk.

“No problem,” Mulder says, managing to gently extricate himself and lower Bill back to the bed. “I hope it works out.”

“Me, too,” Bill says, nodding. “And I’m sorry for yelling at you, for interrupting your date. You’re all right.” He pats Mulder’s arm gingerly. “You’re all right.”

“It’s fine,” Mulder says, feeling his ears going fiercely hot. “No worries.”

He looks up quickly at Scully. She doesn’t look amused any more. No more smirk. It’s as though her face has been shuttered and boarded up, like all expression of emotion has been put away.

Mulder feels a stone in the pit of his stomach.

“I don’t wanna be rude or anything.” Bill’s voice is a barely understood mumble by now. “But I think I’m gonna sleep for a while.”

Mulder tries to catch her eye, but Scully just nods brittly and turns away.

***

[jennaispunk]

A Symptom of Being Human

Summary: An unlikely connection forms between Joel and a new resident of Jackson. (sorry I suck at summaries)

Word Count: 2.6k

Rating: T

Pairing: Joel Miller x OFC (Maggie)

Warnings: fluff, slight age gap (Joel is 50ish, OFC is 40ish), grief, loss of spouse, loss of child, panic attacks, mild violence, allusions to SA but no specific details, possible friends to something more, soft!Joel, please let me know if I forgot anything.

Notes: This fic was inspired by 'A Symptom of Being Human' by Shinedown. When I first heard this song, the idea for this story immediately popped into my head. This could become a series if it doesn't flop.

Thank you @fallingforthearch for being my #1 fan and my biggest supporter. I would have never had the courage to put my writing out there without you.

dividers and banners by @saradika-graphics

This wasn’t supposed to happen. Brian promised they’d be safe. They were traveling in a group, not going far. Maggie begged him to stay at the settlement, but the promise of something better for Aiden had made her relent.

The sounds of Brian’s screams still rang in her ears. The ground scattered with the lifeless bodies of their traveling companions; husbands, wives, and children, all just wanting something a little better from this existence.

Her furious struggles elicited laughs from her captors.

“She’s a feisty one, Ty. Gonna be a lot of fun breakin’ ‘er down.”

The smell of his rotten breath filled her nostrils, and she choked back the bile in her throat. His grimy hand slid up her side, roughly groping her breast.

The one called Ty looked over at her as he stood over the limp body of her husband. His steely blue eyes pierced through her, and she froze, her blood running cold.

“Please,” she sobbed. “I’ll do whatever you want; just give me back my son.”

Ty slowly sauntered over to her, tilting her chin so she had to meet his gaze. The cruelty in his eyes betrayed the tenderness of his touch.

“Shhh…” His dirty thumb wiped the tears from her cheek, leaving a streak of dirt in its wake. “You’ll do whatever I want, anyway. You don’t got a choice, darlin’.”

Aiden screamed, struggling in vain against the arms that held him. Her heart shattered at the sight of his tear stained face.

“Please, he’s just a boy.” She begged. “He won’t be any trouble for you, I swear.”

Ty clicked his tongue, shaking his head slowly.

“That boy’s got fight in him, like his daddy.” He drawled. “Only a matter a time ‘fore he tries somethin’ ta save his pretty little mama. Can’t have that.”

A wicked smile formed on his thin lips. “B’sides…he’d be just another mouth ta feed.”

Ty nodded to his companion restraining Aiden.

“No!” She knew what that meant. She kicked and screamed wildly, her shoulder joints aching as she struggled to get to the only thing that mattered. She couldn’t let them harm him. She had to protect him at all costs; it was her job. A sharp backhand to her face caused her head to spin.

She watched helplessly through blurry eyes as a shot rang out, and her son…her baby, crumpled to the ground. Her screams filled the air as she thrashed and spit at her captors. Her entire world was lying on the ground in front of her. She wanted them to kill her, too; she had nothing left.

The last thing she remembered was the blinding pain as the butt of a handgun connected with her temple.

Maggie’s eyes shot open, shooting upright in her bed. Her chest heaved, the sound of that gunshot still rang in her head as if it had just happened moments ago and not over a year ago. Her eyes darted to the small clock on the bedside stand… 5:06 AM. She squeezed her eyes closed; the chance of going back to sleep was lost.

Six hours of uninterrupted sleep- that had to be a record. It had been ages since she slept that long without waking. She rolled herself out of bed, peeling her sweat soaked t-shirt from her body as she padded toward the bathroom. The worn hardwood floor creaked, announcing to the empty house that she was awake.

She turned the faucet to the hottest setting and stepped under the water. Closing her eyes, she let the scorching water beat down upon her. She hoped it would wash away her memories, but she knew better.

The sun was just coming over the horizon as she approached the dining hall doors. She made this trip every day for the last three months, and it hadn’t gotten easier. She took a few deep breaths in front of the faded double doors, her mask firmly in place, a friendly smile that told the world she was okay. Some of her neighbors knew her story…at least the parts she shared with Tommy and Eugene when they found her in the woods, but she never shared the full story with anyone. Speaking the words aloud would make it all too real, and she didn’t want any pity.

The clanking of dishes and silverware filled the dining hall, along with the low hum of conversation. Smiling at her neighbors, she made her way through the hall to grab some food and some much needed coffee. She always sat alone, needing the time to collect her thoughts and prepare for the day. A familiar figure appeared in her periphery; he sat alone, too….always alone. He had a story, too. Tommy had said as much when she first arrived in Jackson, but he didn’t elaborate. She noticed the way he glanced at her from time to time, but he never spoke. Her step faltered slightly as if she was going to break the ice, but she kept moving past him.

Joel watched her as she walked past, taking the same seat by the window every morning. He saw how she smiled at everyone and pretended to be okay, but he knew she wasn’t. He knew that look in her eye…. he’d seen it in his own so many times. The look of loss…of heartbreak and misery. She’d lost something, too. She may think no one noticed…but he did. He wanted to say something to her….anything to let her know he understood, but the words stuck in his throat. He’d never been good at letting people in.

The air in the barn was surprisingly stuffy for this time of year, and the earthy smell of dirt and hay surrounded her. Despite the stuffiness, she found solace in the scents and sounds of the barn. It brought her peace; she could focus here. She didn’t have to be anything… didn’t have to be happy or smile. The animals understood.

Willow, the chestnut mare, blustered and pranced restlessly around her stall. Maggie brushed a stray lock of her long hair off her damp forehead and reached out to pat Willow’s shoulder over the stall door.

“I know, mama.” She cooed. “The last few days are the hardest, but once you see that little baby you made, it’ll all be worth it.”

She remembered how it felt when she was pregnant with Aiden. How those last few days were uncomfortable, and she struggled to sleep. The mare nudged her hand in silent commiseration. Maggie smiled at her and rubbed Willow’s nose.

“I’ll be here with you when it’s time…make sure you and the baby are alright.”

Joel watched silently as she spoke to the mare. She was so different here…much different than when she was in the dining hall or slinging drinks at the Tipsy Bison. He wondered if she ever slept. It seemed like she had her hands in everything here in Jackson…tending the garden and the animals and bartending at night. He understood the need to keep busy, to drown out the pain and the failure.

The longer he watched, the more guilty he felt. He shouldn’t be intruding like this, watching her like some creep. He backed away slowly, not wanting to interrupt her private moment. The heel of his work boot connected with a bucket, and the clank reverberated through the barn.

Her eyes snapped up, focusing on Joel. How long had he been there? What had he heard?

His cheeks flushed with embarrassment at being caught eavesdropping.

“Sorry…I…didn’t mean to startle you.”

“It’s okay. I’m usually not this jumpy.”

She was lying through her teeth, hoping he couldn’t tell. Her heart pounded so loudly she could hardly hear him speak.

Joel smiled sheepishly. He knew how badly he scared her and felt terrible for it. He cleared his throat and took a small step forward. Maybe this was his chance to connect with someone again.

“It’s Maggie, right?” He asked. “I’m-“

“I know who you are.” She winced at the sharpness of her tone.

“Right.” He sighed a little too loudly and dragged a hand through his peppered hair. He cursed himself for being so stupid; of course she knew he was. His brother was just about the only person she had a conversation with that lasted more than a few minutes.

“Is everything alright with the mare?”

He was desperate to change the subject, to get the conversation back on track.

“Willow? No, she’s fine. I was just checking in on her.” Her hand dropped to her lower abdomen, instinctively covering her womb, her eyes tender. “The last few days before giving birth can be pretty uncomfortable.”

Joel’s eyebrow twitched. She’d lost a child, too. He knew that agony all too well. The unbelievable pain and darkness that engulfs you, pulling you down into a pit of emptiness that leaves you with nothing but a gaping hole where your heart should be.

Her face went slack. She’d always been so careful about keeping details of her past close to her vest. She didn’t want pity; she just wanted to feel normal.  

Joel’s eyes softened as they stared at each other, an unspoken conversation between two people with the worst thing in common.

Even twenty-plus years later, it still hurt. It hurt to think about what Sarah would have grown up to be if she’d had the chance, if it hadn’t been stolen from her…if he wouldn’t have failed her. Those moments that she would never have played in his mind… her first day of college… her wedding day… the birth of her first child, his grandchild—his hands clenched into fists as his eyes misted.

He’d never had anyone to share that pain with, not even Tommy. Maria had lost a child, too, but there was no chance of the two of them talking about it; she wasn’t exactly his biggest fan, even after all this time.

He opened his mouth to speak, but the words caught in his throat. The fear of taking that first step kept them from escaping. 

“Come on, Joel. We gotta go, Eugene’s waitin’ on us.”

Tommy’s voice echoed through the barn. Joel and Maggie averted their gazes from each other. His hand flew to the back of his neck, while she fidgeted with the hem of her shirt.

Tommy’s eyebrows raised and he chuckled under his breath.

“Hey, Sparky.” He drawled, his Texas accent more pronounced than usual. “You’re comin’ to the Spring Fling picnic, right?”

Maggie cleared her throat, forcing herself to smile as her heart hammered in her chest. They had been so close to something… something she’d wanted for so long but had been afraid to let herself wish for… understanding. Had she found a kindred spirit in Joel? She saw it in his eyes; he understood. He knew her pain because he felt it, too.

“Yeah, wouldn’t miss it.”

“Good. I know Maria’ll be real happy to have ya there.” Tommy smiled and clapped Joel on the shoulder before turning and heading out of the barn.

Joel shoved his hands in his pockets. The toe of his boot scuffed the ground before he looked up at her once more. He desperately wanted to say something… anything, but his words evaded him—a grown-ass man, tongue-tied like some goddamn teenage boy. The corner of his mouth twitched into a sheepish smile. He turned on his heel and walked away without looking back.

The chaos of the picnic made things seem almost normal: the sounds of children laughing and playing, the smell of burgers on the grill, and the warmth of the sun on her skin. It all made it easier to pretend that she was okay.

Joel sat silently across from her on the picnic table while Maria, bouncing her toddler on her lap, chatted about the upcoming improvements the council was making to the town.

A blood-curdling scream broke through the din, and everyone scrambled to their feet. She didn’t think; she instinctively ran with the group. She covered her mouth as she saw a little boy lying on the ground, bloodied, and screaming for his mother.

Maggie’s chest heaved, struggling to get air into her lungs. Her heart pounded like it was going to explode out of her chest. The edges of her vision went black as she was immediately pulled back in time. That little boy's voice was Aiden’s… the blood was Aiden’s. She was back in that field, seeing her little boy on the ground dying before her eyes, and she was powerless to stop it once again. She squeezed her eyes closed, clutching her chest as she leaned back against the brick wall.

Joel caught her movements out of the corner of his eye as the chaos swirled around them. He knew what was happening and was at her side in moments.

“Hey.” He gently took her by the elbow. “Just breathe, okay? In through your nose and out through your mouth.”

He’d been through this himself; he knew exactly what she felt.

Each breath felt like lava had been poured down her throat. A burning concoction seeping into her lungs making each breath more difficult than the last. Tears slowly trickled down her cheeks as her muscles clenched keeping her frozen in this hell, not that she could escape it if she tried.

“That’s it, sweetheart…just like that.” His voice was calm and soothing. He could feel her spiraling, and he grabbed her cheeks. “You’re alright. Just focus on me. Look at me.”

She forced her eyes to open to see his soft and tender chocolate brown eyes in front of her, a warm, reassuring smile on his face. His words echoed in her ears. ‘Focus on me. Look at me.’ Her eyes traced the lines of his face. The scent of pine and canvas filled her nostrils, a scent she would forever associate with him.

“I’ve got you. You’re in Jackson…you’re safe.”

Reality slowly settled in. Her chest began to loosen, each breath a little less torturous than the last. The images in her mind slowly dissolved to reveal the tangible world, the feel of his hands on her face, the gentle breeze fluttering the streamers on the picnic tables.

“Good girl…just keep breathin’.”

His large hands cupped her cheeks as his calloused thumb brushed her soft cheek absentmindedly.

“Feeling better?”

Maggie nodded slowly, letting out a shaky breath. She’d never had a panic attack so intense before. Her eyes fluttered closed for a moment and then opened again.

“Thanks.” A bashful smile teased at her lips. “How?...”

“Happened to me before, too.” He chuckled softly, scratching at the salt and pepper scruff on his cheek. “But that’s a story for another time.”

He knew he could share that story with her one day; she would understand. There was a long-forgotten feeling in his chest. He wanted to connect with someone for the first time in a very long time.  

Her body went slack against the brick wall; her muscles tingled from the exertion. The nervous and excited chatter of everyone around her filled her ears.

“I think you’ve had enough excitement for one day. Would it be alright if I walked you home?”

“Sure, I’d like that.”

He wrapped a protective arm around her, guiding her away from the picnic. She sank into his warmth, her head cradled perfectly into his shoulder. She never thought Joel Miller would be the one she connected with. This might be an unlikely friendship, born of mutual hurt and pain, but it felt right. She wouldn’t ask him for his story now; she would be patient. For now, she would be content with this.

[mimisempai]

I wasn't expecting you 3/5

Chapter Summary - Welcome, Crowley

Crowley spends his first evening at the pub with the other shopkeepers on Whickber Street, and thanks to the meddling of some of them, gets to know the bookseller better.

Notes

I'm back from my holidays and ready to continue the story of the barista and the book seller. 

As you can see, I've added one chapter to the total, because the last chapter needed to be cut.

On Ao3

Rating G -  1872 words

Chap 1 - Chap 2 - Chap 3 - Chap 4 - Chap 5

Crowley took a deep breath and opened the door of the Dirty Donkey. He wasn't the shy type, but experience had taught him to be cautious, and it had been a long time since he had sought the company of others who had often disappointed him.

However, this was the first time in a long time that he'd been welcomed into a group without having to make an effort to be friendly, so he decided to give it a try.

Not to mention a bookseller who had more than piqued his interest.

When the barista entered the crowded pub, he immediately looked around for Nina or any other member of the group that was supposed to be there, and of course the first thing he noticed was the tuft of tousled pale hair.

Then his eyes were drawn to Nina waving at him, and he saw that everyone was already there. Noticing that they all had a drink in front of them, Crowley stopped at the bar to order a glass of Talisker and, glass in hand, made his way to the table.

As he approached the group, Maggie pushed herself aside to give him a seat between Aziraphale and herself. 

She pulled out a chair and patted it, saying, "Crowley, come and sit here!"

Crowley put his glass on the table and said gently, "Thanks, but you didn't have to bother."

Mrs. Sandwich, or rather Rosie as she had almost ordered him to call her, chuckled before replying, "Don't worry about it, darling. The two lovebirds are just happy to be closer."

As he sat down, he saw that Maggie and Nina did indeed look happy to be closer as they intertwined their hands. Then his eyes went around the table and he said to the group, "Hello everyone."

A concert of greetings and welcoming words answered him, making him feel more and more at ease, despite the fact that a week ago he didn't even know anyone.

When the general chatter died down, Nina raised her glass and said in a loud voice, "I'd like to propose a toast to Crowley. You know how much of a pain in the ass I can be..." she paused as there was some snickering around the table, then continued, "Yes, yes, I do, and yet Crowley rose to the challenge with flying colors, so that deserves a first round, it's on me!"

Everyone offered their own little comment, from light-hearted digs at Nina's temper to praise for his new employee's patience. Crowley listened and watched, smiling and sipping his drink, nodding from time to time.

Suddenly, Aziraphale's hand resting on his arm snapped him out of his thoughts as the bookseller leaned over and said kindly in a low voice, "They can be a little overwhelming sometimes, but they're all very nice. And I can see they appreciate you already."

Crowley nodded and replied in the same tone, "It's been a long time since I've been among such open and... welcoming people, it's a little strange..."

Aziraphale asked gently as he removed his hand from Crowley's arm, "We're all a bit special here in a way, but do you mean strange in a good way or a bad way?"

Crowley smiled sweetly and replied, "Good. I think I could get used to it."

Aziraphale clinked his glass against his and said softly, only for Crowley's ears, "I hope so. Welcome here."

Again, something passed between them, indefinable but very much there, as Crowley replied almost in a whisper, "Thank you."

Without breaking eye contact, each took a sip from his glass and smiled.

However, the moment of grace was short-lived when they were interrupted by Aziraphale's other table neighbor, Mr. Brown, who moved closer to Aziraphale and said in a loud voice for the entire table to hear, "I couldn't help but overhear part of your conversation and I couldn't agree with you more, Aziraphale, we're all a little bit special, here. But I have to say, Crowley, you are really special. I mean, that hair and especially those eyes. It's not natural, really, and-"

Aziraphale interrupted, exclaiming, "I think it's pretty!"

Crowley couldn't hold back a small gasp, which made Aziraphale realize what he'd just said. The bookseller coughed and stood up, saying, "I see everyone's glasses are empty, so the next round's on me, since my return seems to be one of the reasons for this little party. I'll order from the bar."

Before Crowley could respond, the carpet seller stood and added, "I'll help him."

Crowley watched them walk away, a little, a lot if he was honest, annoyed by Mr. Brown's kind of possessive behavior.

Then, as his gaze shifted to Aziraphale, he thought again of the bookseller's words.

"I think it's pretty!"

He'd heard a lot of things said about his distinctive amber eyes: strange, weird, freaky, fake. But to hear them described as pretty with such warmth in the voice, never.

"Awww, Crowley, your cheeks are as red as your hair!"

He couldn't help but touch his cheeks as he turned to Nina, who had just spoken when Rosie gave a thumbs up and said, "Go for it!"

Crowley muttered, "Go for it! Go for it! Looks like the other redhead here is already in the place."

Maggie, who was closest to him, heard him and said softly, "Oh, no, don't think so. You have no reason to be jealous. I'm the one who's known Aziraphale the longest, and he's never looked at anyone the way he looks at you."

Nina, Justine, Rosie, and even Mr. Arnold, the music store owner who didn't talk much, nodded in support of Maggie's words as Aziraphale and the carpet seller returned with the drinks. 

What he didn't see were the winks they all shared.

Just as Aziraphale and Mr. Brown were about to sit down, Rosie stood up and said to the rug seller, "Let's change seats, I need to talk to your neighbor and it's not easy with someone between us, sorry Justine."

Justine, who was sitting between Mr. Arnold and Rosie, shook her head and replied, "That's good, because I wanted to talk to Arthur about new carpets for the restaurant."

Crowley met Nina's gaze as she winked at him and couldn't suppress a small laugh that went unnoticed as everyone took their seats. In the space of a week, he'd come to realize that Whickber Street was full of gossip and that everyone liked to meddle in each other's lives. He didn't usually like that, but he was beginning to realize that it was more about caring than meddling, and that was new, too. People who cared about him.

The atmosphere at the table calmed down a bit as Justine engaged the grumpy Mr. Brown in a discussion about a possible sale that brought a smile back to the seller's face, Rosie struck up a conversation with the placid Mr. Arnold, and Nina and Maggie were carrying on a discussion reserved for them alone, judging by the enamored looks the two women exchanged.

Crowley took a sip of his drink and, alcohol helping, couldn't help but ask the bookseller, "Do you really think it's pretty?"

Aziraphale's gaze was incredibly gentle as he replied, "I rarely say things I don't mean. I mean, yellow is my favorite color, my car is yellow, a lot of things in my shop have that warm hue, so of course I think your eyes are pretty."

Other than a throaty thank you, Crowley found nothing to say in response to Aziraphale's disarming honesty.

After a few seconds of silence, the other man asked, "So tell me, what made you want to answer Nina's ad?"

Encouraged by the bookseller's openness, Crowley had no desire to go down the road of pretense and half-truths, and replied with equal honesty, "I have no family or ties, and I've never stayed in one place long enough to form a bond. With my looks, people don't trust me easily, and-"

Aziraphale, listening to Crowley with his chin resting on his hand, interrupted, "You could have changed your look."

Crowley, sensing no judgment in the other man's voice or expression, shook his head and said, "And not be me anymore? Impossible."

Aziraphale, obviously approving of Crowley's answer, nodded and the barista continued, "After another professional disappointment, the chance of my path brought me here, and Nina's ad came at just the right time, as I was looking to settle down for something more permanent, something that would last. And icing on the cake, I seem to be accepted for who I am here."

Aziraphale replied quietly, "I'm delighted you've decided to put your bags down here, and if I may add, there's nothing to accept, you're fine as you are. At least for me."

Crowley replied, "Thank you. If I may say so, you're very direct."

"In my family, it was better not to say what was on your mind, and now that I'm free of that, I don't want to waste any more time on hypocrisy and pretense."

Crowley replied with a broad smile, "I like that."

In their own world, the two men continued to chat, oblivious to the knowing, affectionate glances of the conspirators around the table. There was another round of drinks, this time courtesy of Crowley, and the evening was well underway when they decided to leave the Dirty Donkey.

A few more pleasantries were exchanged and then everyone headed home. Aziraphale and Crowley watched in amusement as Nina and Maggie carried a drunken Mr. Brown home, and Justine waved to them before walking away, following in Mr. Arnold's footsteps.

Crowley turned to the bookseller and they looked at each other for a few moments in silence.

"So this is love, lalala lalala... So this is what makes life divine..."

They turned to Rosie, who had just hummed past them, and she turned back, waving her hand.

"Good night, boys."

Crowley chuckled softly, "They're not very subtle."

Aziraphale replied with a chuckle, "No, but I can't blame them, can you?"

Crowley looked intently at Aziraphale in silence before replying in a clear voice, "No. Not at all."

Aziraphale held out his hand and said gently, "Well, good night, Crowley, and see you tomorrow."

Crowley took the bookseller's hand and asked, confused, "Tomorrow?"

Aziraphale's smile turned mischievous as he replied, "Well, yes, for my pastry."

"Oh, you come to Nina's every day?"

Aziraphale shook his head.

"No, but I have a reason to now. Good night, Crowley."

Crowley, once again surprised by the bookseller's straightforward attitude, replied, "Good night, Aziraphale. See you tomorrow."

Aziraphale nodded, then walked away toward the bookshop.

Crowley followed him with his eyes for a while before heading for the coffee shop. When he reached the door, he put the key in the lock and couldn't help but look back at the bookshop one last time, only to see to his surprise that the bookseller had done the same.

Crowley waved one last time before entering his building, this time without looking back. 

For the first time in a long time, he felt hope blossom within him, and he didn't stop himself from relishing it. 

Tomorrow couldn't come soon enough.

_________

Still not beta'd

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story  🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

Ineffable Husbands masterlist : here