#She saw the cycle of abuse and went 'lets keep this ball rolling'

[splasharooni]

More cringefail SnowflakePaw with a side order of her not-boyfriend, ToadPaw, looming < 3 Saw u guys liked her first post, so I figured I'd give u guys a peek at how shes doing rn (its bad) ToadPaw (left, first image) belongs to MorayLee on Toyhouse!

[happyandticklish]

I Want To See You Smile - Part One

Notes: I decided to write something for the Gorillaz fandom, because I have fallen suddenly back into obsession over the band and needed to get it out of my system. I also would like to add that the fic holds some problematic themes concerning abuse, and that I am both aware of these themes and am working through them carefully. That being said, I hope you all enjoy! 

Summary: After a fateful encounter one day, Murdoc finds himself addicted to tickling his bandmate and doesn’t know why. 2D’s adorable reactions certainly aren’t helping. 

Murdoc wasn’t sure what was wrong with him. His face was flushed, his head was spinning, his heart was jackhammering wildly in his chest; all this from a chance encounter in the living room.

Maybe he was dying. He would have preferred that, honestly, to whatever the fuck this was.

He had discovered 2D’s body sprawled out lazily on their beaten up couch, gangly limbs thrown haphazard over its surface. In one of Murdoc’s hands was a bottle of something toxic he had just conjured up in the kitchen and in the other a journal in which he had planned to write either lyrics or obscene drawings in—he hadn’t quite decided which. Still, he couldn’t do either with the blue-haired idiot dozing off and claiming all the available seating space.

“Hey,” he said, slanting his eyes down in annoyance. “Dents. Move it.”

2D mumbled something indistinguishable in his sleep, but otherwise didn’t move. Murdoc frowned. He must really be out of it. Still, Murdoc had a mission and he wasn’t about to give up on it now. He leaned down, gripping his sides for a handhold as he attempted to shove him off. As he did, however, 2D shifted and squirmed under his touch, one hand unconsciously coming down to shove his hand away. Murdoc ignored him, readjusting his grip and tugging at his limp form. This time 2D let out a sleepy giggle, swatting at his hands once more.

“Stop,” he muttered incoherently. “It tickles.”

Murdoc’s eyes widened with realization. Ah. So that’s why he’d been acting so weird. He started to move his hands away, when an idea occurred to him—another way to get him to move. He smirked, keeping his hands on hips and squeezing with more purpose this time.

“C’mon 2D,” he teased in a low whisper. “I need to get on this couch.”

2D was moving more now, soft, breathy laughs echoing from his vocal chords, still not fully awake yet. If he was this ticklish asleep, Murdoc couldn’t imagine what he would be like awake. He squeezed again and again, poking and prodding at this one spot on his hips that had 2D spazzing. Finally, 2D’s eyes fluttered open and his frown of confusion quickly turned into a silly grin at the sensations dancing upon his skin.

“M-Muhuds?” he asked, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion. “W-Whahat are yohou d-dohoing?”

“Getting you to move.”

“C-Cohouldn’t yohou h-hahave juhuhust ahahasked mehehe?”

“Eh. This was more fun.”

2D groaned sleepily, tired giggles slipping out unwarranted. That one spot on his hips, pursued relentlessly, was quickly becoming unbearable and his hands came down again to shove Murdoc off. Unfortunately, his grip wasn’t strong enough and he held onto Murdoc’s wrists uselessly. “Hehehe, ahaha, muhuhuds!”

“Hmm?”

“Ihihit—” 2D broke off, the tickling spiking suddenly and prompting a squeak from the man. “Ihihit tihihickles!”

“Does it now?” Murdoc teased, scratching his nails against the soft divot of skin contained there. “Well that’s quite an unfortunate situation, isn’t it?”

“Ah! Ohohohokay, ohohokay, I’ll mohohove!” 2D agreed eagerly, shoving desperately at his hands.

“Nah, I think it’s a bit too late for that now.” Murdoc hoisted a leg over him on the couch so he was no effectively straddling the other. “I’m having too much fun to stop now, and I think you need to learn your lesson about listening right away.”

 “Buhuhut yohou dihihidn’t ahahask—ahaha, nohohoho, ehehe, stahahap!”

2D fell into quick hysterics as Murdoc began ruthlessly pursuing his hips now, one hand on either side. 2D scrabbled fruitlessly to shove his hands off and when that failed he resorted to frantic squirming and writhing underneath him instead. “Wow, dents,” he muttered with a sarcastic leer. “I didn’t realize you were this sensitive. I’ll have to remember this for the future.”

“Stahaha—ahaha, ehehe, nohoho! Ihihi tihihickles tohohoo muhuhuch!” 2D’s laughter soon became a breathless stream of giggles, interspersed with hiccups here and there as he fought to control his body’s reactions. As Murdoc watched him, a strange flush began to creep its way up his neck and his stomach writhed with unexplained nerves. This was different from all those times he had tormented 2D in the past. This was something new and altogether unnerving, and Murdoc didn’t like it one bit. But even as he was tempted to stop, the sight of 2D begging and laughing under him was too appealing to quit now.

“You know, I distinctly remember Noodle being veeeery ticklish here when she was younger.” Murdoc secured one of his wrists in his hands, dragging it far above his head. “I wonder if it’s the same for you.” 

2D’s eyes widened and his struggling increased, giggling apprehensively as Murdoc’s fingers wiggled towards his defenseless pit.

“No, no, please, wait, no mohoHOHOHohore!”

2D shrieked when his fingers finally made contact, tugging frantically at his trapped arm. The other arm did its best to try to fend Murdoc off, but he would simply switch to a different spot until 2D moved to protect there instead; the second he did, however, Murdoc would simply move back to his underarms and the cycle would repeat once more.

Red-faced, writhing and babbling out incoherent pleas, 2D was quite a sight. Murdoc found himself so caught up in it that he hadn’t realized how intense he had gotten until 2D let out a frantic shriek and finally pulled his arm free. The sound snapped Murdoc out of his haze and he quickly rolled off the other, head spinning.

2D curled up on the couch, residual laughter spilling from his lips as he fought to regain some semblance of coherency. He gripped his torso protectively, skin tingling from the overload of sensation. “Hah… ha… ehehe… w-whahat was that?”

Murdoc had no answer, only that he needed to leave for fear of tickle jumping the poor man again. So instead he merely grunted, snatching up his alcohol and journal and stalking out the doorway, trying with everything in him to get the image of 2D in that helpless, strangely appealing state out of his head. 2D watched him go, confusion and leftover bliss swirling over his features.

Murdoc would have been happy to write that moment off as a one-off mess-up, a momentary lapse in judgement, had it not happened again after that. And again. And again. Every time he saw 2D, which was often when the band was squished together as it was, all he could think about was digging his fingers into his sides if only to hear that adorable yelp again.

His excuses were getting weaker as time went on, as well. “Wait, no, please!” 2D pleaded, noticing the fateful smirk on the other’s face as he backed him up against the wall. He had messed up some lyric or another during rehearsal, which at this point was all the justification Murdoc needed. The others looked on in confusion as 2d quickly fell into hysterics, Murdoc pinning him against the wall with his onslaught of tickling.

“Guhuhuys!” 2d cried, giggling wildly as Murdoc poked fingers rapid-fire into his sides. “Hehehelp m-mehehe!”

“Hey Murdoc, don’t you think we should leave him alone now?” Noodle asked hesitantly. “It wasn’t really his fault—we all mess up lyrics from time to time.”

“Lyrics?” Murdoc snapped, before remembering his original reasoning for the attack. “Yeah, well, this way he’ll learn not to do it again.”

Noodle frowned but otherwise did little to help him. It wasn’t until Russel placed a hand on his shoulder that Murdoc finally backed off. “We should probably get back to practice,” he said firmly, a warning note to his voice. Murdoc scoffed, releasing the other and letting 2D crumple to the ground in a trembling ball of nerves.

“Yeah, whatever,” he muttered, sitting back down and picking up the bass. “Let’s just get this damn song over with already.”

For every grievance imaginable, throughout the course of that strange and confusing month, 2D would find himself reduced to a squirming mess of limbs at the hands of none other than Murdoc Niccals—spent too long in the shower, called him a name, wasn’t fast enough when Murdoc asked him to get out of the way, finished the last of the potato crisps. Small, unpreventable things that ultimately Murdoc only cared about because it provided such ample excuse to wreck the other.

Over the course of that month, Murdoc also spent sufficient time trying to figure out the reason for his growing obsession. Each time he thought about it, however, a hot blush crept up his neck and a world of voices screamed at him inwardly what are you doing? He didn’t know. He didn’t know what it meant, nor why it was only tickling 2D in this way that made him feel like this. He hadn’t ever experienced anything like this in the past. Sure, he had teased and poked a couple of the girls and guys he’d dated in the past, but it was always quick, fleeting touches that ended almost instantly—just something to get a reaction. Now though, it was clearly something different. The sight of 2D shrieking and writhing under him made his body react in a way that was altogether different from how you would with your platonic bandmate whom you despised.

One night he got so fed up thinking about it that he decided to give up on sleep and head out to the kitchen to make himself something to take the edge off.

Who should he find but the man of the hour himself, the blue-haired bean pole, standing at the sink and pouring himself a glass of water.

As soon as he noticed Murdoc’s presence behind him 2D startled, quickly shutting off the faucet and edging away from him. “Oh hey, muds,” he greeted, that nervous, finnicky smile already taking over his features. Murdoc jammed his hands in his pockets so he wouldn’t do anything.

“What are you doing up so late?” he grumbled, shoving past him and reaching for the various bottles of liquor littered over their countertop.

“Just getting a glass of water,” he replied cautiously. Murdoc simply grunted in response. Watching him cautiously, 2D continued to slink towards the doorway. He paused at the exit, however, hand on the doorframe. He curled his fingers in hesitation, before quickly whirling around to face the other once more.

“Aren’t you gonna…” 2D started before breaking off his sentence, clearly embarrassed.

Murdoc turned to face him, tossing back a glass of tequila—definitely not midnight appropriate, especially when he had to be up at the crack of dawn tomorrow for rehearsal. “Aren’t I gonna what?”

“You know…” 2D trailed off, blushing, before awkwardly wiggling his fingers a little as a demonstration.

That same, creeping red returned to his face and Murdoc stiffened. Still, he wasn’t about to let the little upstart get the upper hand, so he said, leaning back on the counter with fake confidence, “Why? Do you want me to?”

“No, but, I mean, not entirely—” 2D stopped himself, clearly thrown for a loop. “I just meant that usually you… you know, do that. Are you… not going to anymore?”

For some reason it hadn’t occurred to Murdoc that 2D would pick up on this recurring habit of his. To have it stated so bluntly was certainly a shock to his system. The two stood in that tiny kitchen, an uncomfortable energy in the air as the silence between them increased. Murdoc tongued the inside of his cheek, debating how to phrase his next sentence.

Before he could, 2D spoke up for him. “I don’t… uh, I don’t mind, that is.” He spoke cautiously, waiting for Murdoc to snap at him or throw something. When he did neither, 2d continued, “I prefer it, over the other stuff. Also it’s… it’s sort of fun, in a way.”

Murdoc slowly sat down his liquor bottle, narrowing his eyes at the other. “Are you saying you like it when I tickle you?”

2D shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “Sort of? I mean, it gets sort of intense sometimes, but even that’s, uh—” He pressed his lips together, evidently deciding that whatever he would have said next would only make the situation worse. “I liked it, yeah. Whenever you’re, you know, tickling me, I sort of get the feeling that you like doing it. Which in a way makes it feel like you enjoy spending time with me and that’s… nice.”

Murdoc stared at him. The confession was so brutally honest in a way that only 2D could ever pull off. For some reason, that made him angry. He took a couple steps forward and 2D instinctively scuttled backwards. “Listen. I don’t tickle you because I ‘like spending time with you’, or whatever it is you’re going on about. I was doing it because—” he broke off, sneering at his own verbal incompetence. The real reason, the reason why he couldn’t get the image of 2D laughing, 2D happy, out of his head for weeks on end, floated at the edges of his consciousness. He chose to ignore it, as he did most things that made him uncomfortable. “I did it because I fucking wanted to, alright? And it has nothing to do with you or any kind of bond you think we’ve built. I do what I like, and your job is to shut the fuck up and leave me be, got it?”

2D matched his intense glare, face darkening. Where before there had been fear in his face, now there was only resignation. “Yeah. Got it.”

He snatched his water off the table, nearly fumbling and dropping it. Luckily, he managed to catch it just in time, though not without some leftover embarrassment. His drink retrieved and his smooth exit ruined, he proceeded to stalk moodily out of the kitchen.

The second he was gone Murdoc exhaled shakily, all the fight going out of his limbs. He leaned back against the counter for support, slowly sinking down to the ground. The cold linoleum felt good against his bare skin, and he chose in that moment to forget about all the crumbs and grime most likely littering the floor.

He rubbed his heels against his temples, replaying the conversation over and over again in his head like some kind of broken record player. Which in a way makes it feel like you enjoy spending time with me… It was stupid. Murdoc had never cared about the other man’s opinion before.

So why did those words make him feel like crying?

[hollyxqx]

lover, leaver  //  jimin  //  03

↪ PAIRING: Reader/Park Jimin (initally reader/Jungkook) ↪ SUMMARY: There’s only so much cheating you can take from your boyfriend when he’s on tour before you take matters in to your own hands. ↪ WORD COUNT: 8.5k

↪ WARNINGS: lots of infidelity | substance (alcohol & drugs) abuse | heavy angst | characters are quite flawed (who isn’t) | rockstar!jungkook | soft artist!jimin | mentions of abortion/unwanted pregnancy talk | smut 

01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | FINAL

You go home to change out of your work clothes, having been in them for far too long. To your surprise Jungkook is there, albeit sitting in almost complete darkness. You jump in shock when you flip the light on to reveal him slumped on the sofa, unconscious, a glass half filled with whiskey tilts dangerously in his loose grip.

You swear softly with a sigh as you make your way over to him. You check to make sure he's breathing, knowing his propensity for drinking heavily. The last thing you would ever want is him to drink himself to death. To your relief he is; small, shallow breaths but breaths nonetheless.

You move the whiskey glass to the coffee table and arrange Jungkook so he is laying on his side, in case he vomits in his sleep. From the kitchen you retrieve a bowl for him to throw up into if he needs it and some water. As you pull the blanket that rests on the back of the couch over him he stirs.

"Baby?" He slurs. It's barely coherent but he's called you it enough times for you to be able to understand what he's saying. You've also heard him call you that wasted hundreds of times. He reaches out for you and you notice his knuckles are bruised. There's dried blood on them too.

"Shhh, just go to sleep." You coo, moving some of his hair out of his clammy face.

"Stay." He mumbles.

"I'm staying." You're unsure if he means stay in this exact spot with him or stay in your apartment. Before he can clarify he's out again, eyes fluttering shut and body limp. You watch him for a few moments to make sure he'll be okay. When you're at least marginally sure he won't die in his sleep you head to bed, exhausted from the past few days.

At some point a slightly soberer Jungkook crawls into bed beside you. You feign sleep as he wraps his arms around you. When he kisses your cheek and whispers that he loves you it becomes hard not to cry. "Jungkook we need to talk in the morning." You whisper.

"I know." He whispers back.

Somehow, you both manage to fall asleep, despite everything.

***

It's undeniably awkward the next morning.

You sit opposite each other at the kitchen table but your eyes bore into your - now cold - mug of coffee. Jungkook finished his long ago but you can't seem to stomach yours.

It's quiet. The two of you have exchanged maybe a handful of words the entire time, aside from forcing some pleasantries. You can barely take the tension any longer. You encourage yourself to meet his gaze. "I saw what you did to Jimin." You say quietly. You're angry (well, only mostly at yourself)  but you're more so hurt on behalf for Jimin than anything.

"He deserved it." Jungkook replies bluntly, crossing his arms across his chest. "Fucking snakey little shit."

"Don't direct the entirety of your anger towards him. I'm the bad guy here."

"If I direct it at you then I'll never want to look at you again." He sighs. "I don't want that. I don't want to lose you."

His words rip at your insides like a knife. You hadn't anticipated this reaction from him. Normally he was always so fiery and passionate. To see him acting defeated, broken even was heart wrenching. "Don't you think on some level you've lost me already?" You ask quietly.

The hurt that flashes across his face is instant as if you've slapped him. "No." He replies defiantly.

"Jungkook," You're trying to be gentle, the risk of the situation escalating is high enough as it is. "I'm sorry for everything I did. It makes me a fucking horrible person - it does. But if our relationship was perfect, it would've never happened. On either side."

He scoffs. "Nothing's perfect."

He stands, the chair scooting loudly across the tiled floor and opens the cupboard. You already know what's about to happen before it does. The next moment he's fixing himself a drink. Of course. Jungkook has always been self destructive when he's hurting.

"Kook, it's 10.30am."

"So? I've got nowhere to be today." He downs the liquid in one before going in for seconds.

"This is exactly what I'm talking about!" You exclaim. "Getting drunk during the day is not normal. You never used to do that!"

"Yeah? Well I also never used to have the amount of pressure on me I do now!" He's yelling now and you flinch. You hate seeing him angry. "You think it's easy to keep it together when I have a manager, a record label, sponsors and god knows who else pressuring me to write music I don't want to?"

"I didn't think about it like that. I'm sorry." You look down.

"There's a fucking entire world of people who have expectations from me. You don't know what it's like." He runs a hand through his hair, exasperated. "I was just trying to cope. Maybe have a little fun. Sue me."

"You're good at hiding how you feel, Jungkook. You've always been."

"Everyone thinks I'm just this happy, easy going guy with no feelings." He mutters. "Even you. That's why you went running to Jimin."

"I went running to Jimin to deal with the pain of you relentlessly cheating on me." You correct. Jungkook tosses back his drink.

"Did it work?" He mumbles, rolling his eyes.

"Honestly?" You ask with a scoff. Jungkook nods. "Sometimes."

He stares bitterly at the empty glass, swirling the remaining liquid. "I keep trying to remember times where I thought you were cheating, but there isn't any. Not one." He laughs but there's no humour to his voice. "You waited for me to go on tour didn't you? Smart."

"You don't cheat when you're at home. Why should I?" You say, shame burning your cheeks. It sounds absolutely absurd to say it aloud. He walks over to you and stands behind you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders as you sit.

"I'm sorry I hurt you baby." He coos. All you can do is nod, arms limp by your sides. "I never thought of it as cheating, I'm a fucking idiot. I'm so fucking sorry."

He's nosing at your hair, kissing the top of your head, doing what he always does - shower you with so much love and affection so you forget the mistakes that he makes. It's worked so many times but you can't let it work this time, the cycle has to end. You nudge him off of you and he steps back, looking crestfallen. "I love you Jungkook but I can't do this anymore."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that I can't continue to play dumb to the girls on tour. I can't do it. Not anymore. I don't think I'm fit to be your girlfriend. Maybe there's other girls out there who can deal with that shit but I can't." You're frantically shaking your head from side to side.

"Is this so you can be with him?" He spits, gesturing as if Jimin was standing in the room next door.

"No!" You stress. "This has nothing to do with him. I cheated on you Jungkook. I've never done anything like that before. This relationship made me a person who would do that. It's been a long time coming I think." You say sadly. Jungkook looks furious and heartbroken at the same time, hands balled into fists at his sides.

"I don't want to be apart. I love you." He almost hisses. "This is ridiculous. If was going to forgive you, why can't you do the same?"

"Because I know you won't change!" You burst out loudly, meeting his energy. Somehow you find yourself standing on your feet, the chair tips to the floor but you barely register the sound.  Jungkook yells out, throwing his glass. It smashes against the wall opposite you and you nearly jump out of your skin.

"You're really going to throw away two years like that?" He pants, chest heaving.

"I'm sorry."

"No you're fucking not. You're a fucking slutty bitch, is what you are."

He storms out, leaving you to clean up the shattered glass. The front door slams, leaving you in almost unbearable silence. ***

The doctor's office clinical sharp scent fills your head as you sit with Hyerin several hours later. She's nervous; foot tapping incessantly against the metal leg of the waiting room chair. You give her hand an affectionate squeeze as she lets out a deep breath. "Chill. No matter what happens, it's ok." You offer her the most hopeful smile you can.

"Thanks." She mumbles.

You weren't going to fill her in on your morning's previous events but Hyerin had begged you for a distraction. Anything to get her mind off her current state, even if it was just for a few moments. You'd yet to tell her about Jimin being a huge factor. That could wait.

"Good luck." You whisper to her as her name is called by a rather young looking doctor. You watch as she disappears through the double doors, worrying about your friends future.

to: park jimin hey. how are you doing? I can bring you food later, im not working today.

You don't really expect a reply but you're hopeful nonetheless. You still need to talk properly with Jimin and as awkward as it might be it has to be done. It's your bed, time to lie in it.

As you were about to put your phone away it vibrates in your palm. Jungkook's name appears.

from: jungkook <3 i'll be gone until tomorrow night. When i get back I want you and your shit gone.

It was his place after all, he was completely within his right to request such a thing from you. That didn't deaden the sting however. He was hurting and lashing out, you were aware of his tendency to do that but he had been your boyfriend for a long time, it was never going to be easy saying goodbye.

You sigh audibly as you mentally start making a plan to retrieve your belongings. Maybe you could ask Hyerin to help, god knows you two need each other in this moment in time. You wonder if she would let you kick it on her couch for a while until you find a place to live. The timing is hardly great, considering you have exams soon as well. Why couldn't Jungkook wait to cheat on you until after you graduated, you think dryly.

It's not long until Hyerin returns. Her face is flushed and you realise there's probably been a few tears shed since she left you some moments ago. She's nodding as she crosses the room, wordlessly confirming her pregnancy to you. "Come on," You say gently, looping your arm through hers. "Tell me all about it in the car."

She lets out a choked sob the moment your both in the silence of the vehicle. "I can't believe this is honest to god my life right now." She cries, slamming a fist onto the dashboard. "Fuck my fucking existence!"

"What did the doctor say?" You ask hesitantly. You want her to have her moment and vent her frustrations before launching in to the story.

"I'm 100% pregnant. 9 weeks." She sniffs, swiping a tear off her pink cheeks. "It's official."

"Shit." You don't know if you want to apologise or congratulate her, given her extremely upset reaction. "What now?"

She gathers herself as best she can before she replies. "Tell Namjoon, I 'spose."

"Want me to drive you to him?" You offer.

"Nah, I need to go home first. Look - " She's pulling something out her purse, that you quickly realise is an ultrasound. It doesn't look like anything much to you other than a gray and black blur.

"The baby has your eyes." You joke, a feeble attempt to lighten the mood. Hyerin laughs a little as she gazes at the print out.

"It didn't feel real until she handed me this." Hyerin mumbles.

"It is surreal. Next time use a condom, babe."

"I did!" She exclaims, scandalised. "It broke."

You both share a laugh despite everything that's going on with you. It feels just plain good to have a light moment, however temporary. You almost don't want to ruin it, but you feel as if it's necessary. "While you were in there Jungkook texted. He wants me out. By tomorrow."

"Jeez, that's intense."

"He's angry I ended things."

"You can stay with me if you need to. I have a spare bedroom." Hyerin kindly offers. You're touched that you didn't even have to ask, feeling closer in this moment to her than ever.

"You're an angel."

"You've been a good friend to me. I'm just doing what's right." She gives you a small smile as you start the car, ready to take her home.

***

Boxing and packing your things from home is harder than you expect it to me. There's so much of Jungkook entwined in nearly everything you own and a tiny, rageful, hurt part of you wants to just say fuck it and bin absolutely everything. Obviously you can't - but the wild impulse niggles at you.

A lot of the clothing you own is stolen from him. Mostly it's band t's and hoodies. You wonder if he would prefer that you left it behind. Maybe not, you think wistfully. Knowing him, he'd probably chuck it out anyway, unwilling to have anything that reminded him of you.

It's late into the night when you're interrupted by knocking at the front door. You hoist yourself up from where you kneel at the foot of your closet, next to a mountain of clothes and pad barefoot to the door. One look through the peephole reveals it's Jimin who is knocking.

You recall suddenly that you never heard back from him.

"Jimin?" You ask curiously as you peer round the door. Your heart aches when you notice he has a bag of takeout food with him. "What are you doing here?"

"Thought you might be hungry." He replies quietly. You realise that you are indeed, unable to even remember when you last ate. "Can I come in?"

You try not to gawk too much at his injured face as he crosses the threshold into your apartment, a pang of guilt shooting directly through you. It's your fault he looks like that. Somehow it appears even more gruesome as it's healing.

He doesn't ask where to go, instinctively heading for the living room where you ate before. You follow behind him, a flutter of nerves creeping up your chest. Jimin sits and immediately starts unboxing the food.

"It's late." You say dumbly, pointing out the obvious. "Why aren't you sleeping?"

"I spoke to Namjoon." Jimin states, eyes never leaving the food. You know what that means. It means he knows everything. There's no way Jungkook wouldn't have mentioned anything. You take a seat next to him and give him some help. "Thought you might need a hand."

"With packing? I'm almost done."

"Well yeah, but other things too. Sometimes it's nice just to have some company when shit hits the fan."

You notice he's ordered your favourite noodles. It's so gut wrenchingly sweet and you definitely don't deserve it. "Thank you." You say, feeling small.

It's quiet as the two of you eat, the only sounds that can be heard is that of noodles being slurped. The food is welcome and much needed.

"Where are you going to go? I'd offer my place but I'm almost certain you'd turn me down." He gives you a smile that never reaches his eyes. However he's right. There's no way you'd accept that offer. Not after the mess you've created. Part of you wonders if you run away now, just leave, at least him and Jungkook's friendship can be salvaged.

"Hyerin very kindly has offered me a place, don't worry." You inform him. "I went with her to the doctor today. There is a baby on the way. For realsies."

Jimin stops chewing, looking at you in shock. "Namjoon as a father is going to be a disaster."

You shrug. "True....but it's their lives. They'll work it out."

"And what about your life hm? What is y/n going to do now?" He set his empty carton of food down, turning a little to face you.

"I don't know," You almost whisper. As you look - truly inspect - his face your pained once more. The bruises are darker, more agonising to look at it. "How's your face?" You ask, changing the subject.

"Sore."

"I'm so sorry." You almost beg. "Do you hate me?"

"I don't think I could even if I tried."

You're unsure of what comes over you, but you're reaching out to touch Jimin's bruised face. A fingertip skims as delicately as you can muster over the purple blooming on his cheek. His eyes flutter shut at your touch. "Sorry." You murmur.

"s'fine." He whispers back. Your thumb trails over his full bottom lip and all you want to do is kiss him. Normally you would have just gone for it but after everything he's been through you don't.

"I wish I could kiss you."

"You can." His eyes are open once again, staring at you softly.

"I don't want to hurt you. Anymore than I already have." You say sheepishly.

"You won't."

He acts next, bridging the gap between your bodies. His kiss is far more delicate than you expect, tender and sweet as if he's afraid. You hope he's not and it's just because he's injured. That thought floats away as soon as a hand grips your jaw and the kiss deepens.

You know you shouldn't be doing this, instead mentioning to him the information that Jungkook shared with you, but you feel so much affection for him in that moment for being willing to take care of you that you can't help it.

The kiss ends abruptly when your hand touches his torso absent mindedly and he gasps in pain. "I'm sorry!" You say urgently, pulling away. He shakes his head, assuring you he's okay. "Please don't tell me that was Jungkook as well. What exactly did he do to you?" You plead.

"You know how strong he is. He just roughed me up. I'm sure you can imagine the kind of things he said to me. Believe me that was worse." Jimin says nonchalantly as if it's the most normal sentence in the world. "I'll be okay."

"Can I see?" You ask tentatively, tugging slightly at the hem of his shirt. He gives you a reluctant sigh but nods anyway. The shirt comes off and you gasp at his battered body. It takes a few seconds to really take all of it in, the sight of his pale chest covered in ugly marks.

"I bruise easy." He mumbles as if that makes any of this any less horrific.

"I'll never get you in a situation like this again I swear," You say solemnly. "I mean it."

"Stop blaming yourself so much." He sighs, taking your hand in his. He kisses the back of your knuckles. "I forgive you. There, now you can stop saying sorry."

***

It doesn't take long for you to be atop of Jimin's naked body while he lies flat on the sofa. One arm grips the edge of the sofa as you ride him, due to the nature of his injuries. His hands grip your hips tightly as you go, falling down onto his length as hard and as fast as your thigh muscles allow you.

His eyes never leave your breasts as they bounce with you. It makes him groan. He uses his feet for leverage to help you as best he can. "Butterfly," He whines, hands sliding from your hips to grope at your chest. "I'm so glad you're all mine now."

You can barely speak let alone protest his statement as your orgasm pulses through you. What you wanted to do was ask him what the hell he was talking about, but it felt too good - he felt too good buried so tightly inside of you and you lost it.

Jimin finishes deep inside with a guttural moan. As you slow you look down at him to find an utterly content smile playing on his lips. You go to clamber off of him but a throaty noise of protest escapes his throat. "Just let me feel you a little longer." He laughs.

He struggles to a sitting position as best he can so allowing him to press his mouth to yours. "My butterfly." He whispers against your lips.

Reality seems to set in suddenly, like a slap to the face. Jimin has incorrectly assumed that you would jump straight from Jungkook to him at a whiplash inducing speed. Not that you can blame him. How could he not? It probably felt like a natural step to him that you two would continue as you had been going. Now Jungkook was out of the picture,  the only apparent obstacle keeping you apart, you were his now. Right?

It doesn't feel right.

You say nothing as you climb off him, feeling uncomfortable as if someone has poured ice water down your spine. You don't want a relationship with him  right now. You're barely hours out of your last one for crying out loud.

Hastily you pick up your scattered clothing and scurry to the bathroom to clean up, mumbling something to Jimin along the way. He's quick to follow you.

"What's wrong?" He asks hurriedly, voice full of concern. Your words are lost to you as you shake your head. "I didn't hurt you or anything did I?"

"No," You say weakly, feeling like a coward. "It's not that."

Hyper aware of the fact that you're both naked you begin to dress. "Can we just clean up then talk?" You plead.

"Sure." Jimin has a combination of a hurt, confused look on his face. "Anything you want, just tell me what's wrong."

When you're both fully clothed and completely out of the carnal state that led you to fucking in the first place only then can you think clearly. "Are you angry? Did I do something wrong?" His voice breaks the uncomfortable silence.

"No, no." You sigh. "Do you think we're...together? Now that things have ended with Jungkook?" It doesn't come out as tactfully as you'd hoped.

"This is because I called you mine, right?" He says letting out a puff of laughter. It's humourless. "What else are we if not together?"

"Jungkook and I just broke up. Don't you think I might need a little space?"

"Please, your relationship with him was over the second you fucked me." Jimin scoffs. "Don't I treat you right? Aren't you happy when we're together?"

"You do. I am." You reply, softening slightly at his words. "I think I just need a break from relationships for a bit. I'm clearly not very good at them."

"So letting me in tonight and fucking me is the way to do that?" He spits sarcastically.

"One thing led to another, I wasn't thinking clearly. I just wanted to feel close to you." You reply, realizing how ridiculous you sound right now.

"If you wanted to feel close to me, let me be close to you." He says sincerely. Jimin steps forward cupping your face in his hands. "Tell me you don't feel anything when we're together. Tell me this isn't just messing around. Tell me you feel something."

He kisses you with as much intensity as he can muster, lips smacking hard against yours. You want to lie to him, push him away and suffer because you feel as if that's what you truly deserve. But you can't. The look in his eyes is nothing short of sheer want.

"Of course I do," You whisper, eyes still shut as you gather some strength. It's been an emotionally intense few days.

"But?" He asks if he can sense what's coming.

"But now is not the right time for me and you," You stress. "I've been really thankful for you Jimin. You've been here for me in ways you don't even realise. But I cannot just jump into a new relationship without dealing with my baggage from the old one. It's not fair to either of us. I've hurt you so much. I don't want to hurt anyone anymore."

He looks at you silently, brow furrowed, for what feels like eons. Deep down you hope he knows you're right, especially if he truly wants to be with you. He kisses you one more time.

"I love you, y/n." He whispers. "I'm in love with you."

You're quite literally left speechless. It's not exactly news to you given what Jungkook had mentioned but hearing it from Jimin is something else. It feels surreal, a strange dream you'll wake up from at any moment. You move your mouth but no sound escapes.

You finally get your breath but it takes a moment. "I don't think I'm there in that place with you, Jiminie." You say sadly, letting the boy who had been so kind to you down. You barely know what you're feeling right now. How can you admit something if you're not entirely sure its true?

You love Jungkook, you know that. But it's entirely different to what you feel for Jimin. It's established love, endured love. Painful love.

"I know. But I think you could be. One day. Maybe even one day soon." Jimin whispers.

He steps back a little so you're no longer in such an intimate proximity. The distance suddenly feels great. You badly want to reach out to him but you know it won't help anything. "Maybe," You agree. "I think if I have some time I'll know for sure. I don't want to lie. I'm sick of it."

"I understand." His voice is small. "I think I'm going to go. I'll give you some space y/n."

You nod, feeling entirely mixed up, emotionally drained and shattered. He gathers his things as you watch, it somehow feels all together too final. There's a chaste kiss on your cheek, a whispered goodbye and he's gone.

***

You awake early the next morning, like pre-alarm early. Not that you slept very much anyway, it's been only two and a half hours since Jimin left your apartment. Most of that time you spent dozing in a light sleep, odd dreams of Jungkook and Jimin plaguing your subconscious. There's a futile attempt to get back to sleep before you decide to get up.

You wash and get ready even though it's still a few hours before Hyerin is due to arrive to help you move. She insisted she was fine to do so and you'd argued back on forth about letting a pregnant woman lift anything, regardless of how far along she is. Eventually she'd succumbed and managed to rope in her friend Taehyung. You'd promised them pizza as a thank you.

As you stare into the mirror, the person staring back at you looks exhausted. You almost don't even want to bother with makeup but the bags underneath your eyes are telling you that you need it. When you're finished you look better, but marginally.

"You look like you haven't slept." Are the first words out of Hyerin's mouth the moment she see's you. Who you presume to be Taehyung hangs awkwardly behind her before you're introduced. He merely gives you a polite nod and a hello.

"I haven't. Not much." You sigh. "I really appreciate you both helping me out today."

Hyerin waves it off like it's no problem at all, even though it must be a huge inconvenience for her and especially for Taehyung who doesn't even know you. It doesn't take long for the three of you to load up Hyerin and Taehyung's cars and you're thankful you only have to make one trip. You're keen to be long gone by the time Jungkook comes back.

"You can ride with me, Taehyung will meet us at my place." Hyerin says as she closes the trunk of her car. You nod in agreement.

"One sec, I'm just going to grab my phone." You tell her as she gets in the car. You head back to your apartment for one last time.

It looks...sad. It's not entirely empty, Jungkook's items taking up a poignant amount of space but it looks stripped. Every little touch that said you lived there is gone. Reality weighs on your chest like a deadweight. You can't help but feel emotional and tears begin to well in your eyes.

There's only one thing left to do now, and that's to leave your copy of the key. If you had told past you one week ago this is where you'd be you wouldn't believe it. It's all very sudden.

You slip the key off your keychain and leave it on the kitchen counter, hoping it would be easy for Jungkook to find. It looks lonely lying against the countertop. An idea occurs to you and you grab a pen and paper from one of the junk drawers in the kitchen. You write a note to Jungkook.

Jungkook, I know you're angry, hurting and probably hating me right now. I get it. I never wanted any of this to happen, for us to end this way. Don't forget the good times we had, I know I won't. I really did love you Kookie, regardless of how much we both fucked up. - Y/N

It doesn't feel like enough, nothing ever would be, but your conscience urged to be alleviated, how ever slight.

***

In a way you're almost thankful that it's exam season for you. It's a welcome distraction from everything else going in your life. The last few days have been spent holed up in Hyerin's spare room under what can only be described as a small mountain of books and graphic designs. It's your final year, and the workload is the most it's been yet.

It's a struggle to keep Jimin and Jungkook from your thoughts as you attempt to focus. You haven't heard from either of them in the last few days, not that you were expecting anything at all but it doesn't stop you shedding a few tears every night before bed.

You hear the doorbell ring as you study and your ears perk up in interest. Namjoon was here. Today was the day that Hyerin was going to tell him she was pregnant. You offered to make yourself scarce but she was insistent that you remained, in case everything went disastrously. At least you would be there as shoulder to cry on.

It seems voyeuristic to listen in and you try your best not to, debating on whether you should put music on. Although, you're not really stoked on the idea of alerting Namjoon to your presence, having yet to face him or any other of Jungkook's friends since everything went down. The whole thing was just awkward.

You want to give them their privacy so you search for your headphones, their muffled voices already carrying down the hall. As you're selecting a song to listen to you hear Namjoon yell fuck loudly. He was loud at the best of times so you're not surprised you can hear him through the concrete walls.

Hyerin's voice is much softer so you don't hear her reply.

You cue up some songs and slip your headphones on, drowning out the noise. It's even harder to read your coursework material knowing god knows what is going on just a few feet from your bedroom door. It's only minutes later when a crash richochets through the apartment. The sound is so loud you hear it above your music.

"What the - " You gasp, pulling the headphones down. There's silence for a beat before you hear Namjoon again, this time he's practically screaming 'you've ruined my life'. Your heart aches for your friend who you know will be emotional anyway because of the pregnancy.

"Namjoon, it's not as if I did this by myself." You here her say. "Or on purpose!"

"Well you know what you have to do now, don't you?" He replies. You can imagine the sneering look of disgust that is Hyerin's face right now. Namjoon clearly wanted her to have an abortion, but did he have to be so fucking tactless about it? You don't know how your friend feels about that particular idea but you can imagine Namjoon's tone of voice helps nothing.

"Can't we at least talk about this rationally? This is not a decision that should be taken lightly."

"There's nothing to talk about!" Namjoon yells. "I can't deal with this! You were just a good fuck who is getting carried away. Nothing more!"

You physically wince at his words. You know it's a lie, you've seen them together and you knew Namjoon well enough to know he really liked her. He was the one who made the relationship official, no matter how much he's pretending now.

"Get out." Hyerin's icy voice is stern but shaky. It's obvious she's trying not to cry. If Namjoon responds you don't hear it. The next thing that can be heard is the sound of the front door opening and then slamming shut.

It's as if you're frozen in place, unable to move. On one hand you want to venture out of your room to see if your friend is okay but on the other you really don't want to reveal you heard every single harsh word exchanged. Before you can make up your mind the decision is made for you with three small knocks at your door.

"y/n?"

You wait a moment and then open the door. Hyerin is already in tears and she practically throws herself into your arms the instant she sees you. You hug her back as best you can. It's silent between you too apart from her sobbing. You doubt there's anything in the world you can say in this moment that can possibly make her feel better, so you just try and follow her lead and be there for her as best you can.

Eventually you break apart. "What can I do? Do you want some food or some tea?" You ask uncertainly. She shakes her head.

"I'm feeling too nauseous to stomach anything." She whimpers.

"Do you...want to talk about it?"

"No." She says but contradicts herself when she walks into the room and slumps down on your bed. "Did you hear him storm out?" You nod sadly as you join her. "Asshole." She mutters.

"Yeah, it's kind of a dick move. I take it he didn't react well?"

"That's an understatement." She scoffs. "He wants me to get rid of it. Just like that, without even talking about it."

"I'm not exactly his closest friend, but I do know him pretty well. He's probably just in shock." You offer. It's the truth, Namjoon was really similar to Jungkook in that way, both of them could be volatile when it came to negative emotions.

"And I'm not? He's only thinking about himself." She grabs the nearest pillow and groans into it with frustration. "What the fuck do I do now?" She looks at you. Her face is stained with tears and her make up is ruined. You feel for her. "Is it beyond crazy if I have this baby? Tell me the truth, y/n. Please."

You lick your lips and pause, thinking for a moment. Namjoon and Hyerin have only been official for a few months, for even mature adults in a faithful relationship that's far too early to have a baby. The whole thing was messy and ugly and you would feel just as conflicted if the shoe was on the other foot.

"I can't tell you how to live your life or make this decision for you, I think if it's something you really want, it's not crazy. This is going to sound harsh but you might have to face the possibility of doing it without Namjoon." You tell her gently. "But! That doesn't mean you'll be alone. You've got me, your family, your other friends I know will support you too."

"Do you think Namjoon would even make a good dad?" She asks. The question makes you flinch inwardly. "I've never even seen him around kids. I have no point of reference."

You recall a memory you have of Namjoon playing with Yoongi's nephews once at a garden party. It was cute, he was wonderful with them...because he was like a giant kid too. That doesn't necessarily qualify him as dad material. He was one of the most irresponsible people you knew.

"I've seen him with kids," You tell her softly. "He's great! He's the kind of guy to roll around on the floor and play like he's just as into the game as they are." She smiles a little at your words. "As far as being a parent? I have no idea. Some people crumble under that pressure. But sometimes, that pressure can bring out a side of you that you never knew existed."

Hyerin lets out a long, contemplative sigh and goes quiet for a few moments. "Maybe you're right." She moves to stand up. "Thanks for that y/n, that really helped. Do you feel like coming with me to tell my parents?" She laughs and you can tell she's joking. "Consider Namjoon a walk in the park compared to them."

"My limited therapist skills can only stretch so far, Hyerin." You joke.

"Worth a shot."

***

It's barely over two weeks later when you sit your final exam. You don't feel as if you've done particularly well even though you were as prepared as you could possibly be and it would be weeks before you found out the results. It's with an anxious mind you head home from campus to change into your work clothes. An eight hour shift is the last thing you feel like doing at the moment, but it's not as if you have a choice.

As you're rummaging through your bag for your keys you almost collide with Namjoon, who is waiting outside of the apartment you share with Hyerin. It's a shock, as far as you knew he had been avoiding her messages and calls entirely. Your mouth falls open in silent shock when you see him.

"Hi y/n," He says slowly and the awkward tension between you is palpable. Personally you haven't seen him since the night you caught Jungkook cheating on you. "I was hoping to catch Hyerin but she isn't home. I was just going to wait..."

"She's working, but she shouldn't be long." You shift uncomfortably. "You can come in and wait or...?"

"Yeah I'll come in. If that's ok."

You give him a curt nod and he follows you inside. Neither of you speak for what feels like forever but in reality it's only a minute or two. "You can hang out in the living room if you want. I have to go get ready for work."

Without waiting for a reply you hurry to your room where you change quickly into your waitress uniform and tie your hair into a bun. You hope Hyerin gets here soon so you don't have to make small talk with Namjoon but you have a horrible feeling you won't be so lucky.

When you're done you head to the kitchen to fix yourself something to eat. He's sitting on the sofa, looking bored as he lazily scrolls through his phone. He looks up upon hearing you walk by and your eyes meet. "Do you want something to eat or drink?" You can't help but ask, the polite hostess in you rearing it's head.

"No thanks." He mumbles.

You send Hyerin a quick text as you wait for your soup to heat up, letting her know he's here. Thankfully she's only a few minutes away, information which you relay back to Namjoon. He only nods.

By the time you've eaten and you're ready to leave Hyerin still isn't home. You saunter to the living room and sit opposite him, he watches you curiously. "About everything that's happened - "

"I don't want to hear it. I know what you did to Jungkook, I don't need to talk about it." He responds gruffly, taking you aback. You swallow dryly, that wasn't what you were going to bring up.

"Actually," You begin coldly. "I was going to talk about you and Hyerin."

"That's none of your business." He says equally as icy.

"Why are you being so rude to me? I was going to say I know it's a difficult situation but it's a good thing you're here and I respect you for that." You say, getting angrier. Namjoon looks slightly embarrassed, color slightly tinting his cheeks. "But you know what? Fuck that. You might not want this baby but have you ever thought this baby might not want you? You think a kid dreams about having an alcoholic, drugged up man whore for a father?!"

Namjoon looks away, jaw tense as he shakes his head in disbelief. "Jungkook was right, you're a fucking bitch."

"Why do you both think women that hold you accountable for your actions are bitches? Grow up." You stand now, knowing this can only go downhill from here. You need to remove yourself from the situation. As he is about to give you what is no doubt a scathing retort you're both interrupted by the front door opening. Hyerin was home.

Her gaze immediately flicks between you and Namjoon. "Hi..." She says cautiously.

"Hey," You manage to sound at least somewhat normal but the tension hands heavy in the room. "I'm late for work, I gotta run. Text me later?"

"Sure." She replies, a little bewildered, the only thing she can do is watch you hurry out the door. In your haste you forget a jacket, cursing yourself the moment you get outside.

***

The manila envelope arrives two weeks before your graduation ceremony and in it contains the written proof of four years accumulated hard work. You'd already checked your grades online that morning but somehow the visual of it in black and white on tangible paper feels more substantial. You were expecting to pass if you were truly honest with yourself, however you were not expecting to pass with a Distinction.

It's been a dream of yours since you learned how to draw in school and now that it's come true it doesn't quite feel real. Your hand twitches as you hold your phone, resisting the urge to text Jimin and share the good news. He would have wanted to know, the topic of your studies was something he always expressed an interest in, sweetheart that he was.

One and a half months had passed since that uncomfortable last night at Jungkook's apartment. Jimin remained true to his word, giving you space. Even if it sometimes felt like too much space to you. Absence really did make the heart grow fonder, you think dryly. You missed him. Not the sex, not the secrecy, the person.

You have half a mind to reach out to him but the worry that it would complicate things further stops you. You've spent too long being selfish, you can't continue to do so anymore.

The only thing in your life that doesn't feel uncertain right now is the college degree you've just earned. Your personal life may be a disaster zone but at least one thing fell into place. Already you've been looking at places to intern, taking a special interest in big cities away from here. Often you've caught yourself wondering if the best course of action was to just leave.

"The guys are playing a gig tonight." Hyerin's voice brings your attention to her. You hadn't even noticed her walk into the room. "I'm going."

She sounds reluctant, as if she didn't want to share that information with you. It makes you feel a little guilty, she shouldn't have to walk on eggshells around you or skirt that topic when it comes up. "Oh? Things are better with Namjoon?"

The past month had been...rocky for the couple. Hyerin had made the decision to have his baby and gave him the option to be as involved as he wanted to be. Initially it went exactly as you'd feared, ending in an argument. Lately however they had been spending more time together. You hoped things would work out for them, truly.

"Yeah, I think so." She shrugged. "He's accepted what's happening at least. We're just taking it slow."

"Good," You say, giving her a soft smile. "I'm glad. Where are they playing tonight?"

"That weird underground bar in Gangnam, I can't remember the name. Y'know the one that has the red door? You've been there, I'm sure. It's a one off show for the single release."

You know the exact place she's talking about, Jungkook had told you he loved you for the first time and asked you to be his at that bar. Poor naïve past you, didn't know what she was getting herself into when she enthusiastically said yes.

"Ah, yeah. Well I hope you have fun."

"I'll make sure and give Jungkook my best bitchy glare." She teases. You still hadn't told her about you and Jimin and as far as she was concerned, Jungkook was public enemy number one.

"I appreciate the solidarity, but don't do that. Just treat him normally." You tell her. "Seriously, I've made things weird enough without you joining in!"

"Ok, ok." She laughs. "I'll be nice."

***

The next morning you're awoken by a knock at your bedroom door. With no school or work you'd been counting on sleeping in but the universe had other plans for you apparently. You groggily sit up against the headboard, calling for who is obviously Hyerin to enter.

"Hey," She says quietly as she closes the door behind her. "Did I wake you?"

"Yeah, but it's fine." You say, stifling a yawn. "How was last night?"

"Uh..." She trails off as she sits at the foot of your bed, crossing one leg over the other. "I don't think there's a word to convey how much of a disaster it was."

"A disaster? Why?" You feel an impending sense of dread for some reason.

Hyerin shakes her head. "The entire night was just...chaotic. I know you probably don't want to hear it but it was because of Jungkook. He was a complete mess. I've never seen him so drunk."

Well that figures. He always liked drinking after a set. Hyerin probably just wasn't as used to seeing him sloppy like you were.

"That's standard behaviour for him, unfortunately."

"No y/n. It was bad. Even the guys were concerned." Her eyes are wide with worry. She hesitates and you tense, awaiting whatever terrible thing she's about to say. "He arrived absolutely out of it. His pupils were the size of a dinner plate for god sake. Then when we couldn't find him before they went on he was in a bathroom with some stripper doing lines."

Ouch. A stripper. Already.

"Again, that sounds like Jungkook." You sigh.

"Namjoon says he hasn't seen him sober in a month. He thinks he's messing with hard drugs. Not just fucking around with weed and coke."

"Shit."

"Yeah. I know it isn't easy for you to hear this, but Jungkook seems to be on a one way spiral of self destruction. He could barely hold his drumsticks."

That was unusual for him, you've seen him perform before under the influence and he always nailed it. It was almost comical how functional he could be after too many drinks.

"That's the way he deals with things." You say quietly, inside you squirm with anxiety. You wonder if Jungkook is going even further off the rails because of you, because of what you did to him. "Did someone make sure he got home okay?"

"He disappeared with the stripper. No one can get a hold of him."

You close your eyes for a moment to try and still your thoughts, images of him overdosed on a random couch somewhere flash behind your eyes. "I hope he's alright."

Hyerin nods in agreement. "Me too."

It's silent for a few moments, the weight of the situation feels uncomfortable and heavy. There's an urge in you to try and fix everything but you wouldn't even know where to begin.

"Why didn't you tell me about Jimin?" She asks quietly after a while.

"I, uh..." There's no valid excuse other than to save yourself from embarrassment. It's not exactly something you're proud of.

"I asked where Jimin was last night and Jungkook went crazy. Namjoon had to explain why to me."

"I fucked up." You avoid her gaze, opting to stare at the bedspread instead. "I didn't know how to tell you. I'm sorry."

"You don't have to apologize to me." Hyerin says softly. "I was just surprised. I never would have thought you would do something like that."

"Me neither." You admit. "It started off as an accident, believe it or not. Remember when they went to Australia for the first time?" She nods. "That's when it began. I'd just had enough of Jungkook cheating on me. Jimin came over to get something and one thing led to another."

"Are you, like, a thing now?"

"No."

"Do you want to be?" She questions.

"I don't know what I want." You sigh. "Really, I deserve nothing. It feels greedy to want anything."

"Don't be so dramatic." She rolls her eyes with a smile. "Everyone makes mistakes. It's not the end of the world."

***

The graduation ceremony brings out the sentimental side in you. In the crowd you see your mom wiping away tears when you receive your diploma and you can't help but feel a little teary yourself. It's a big moment for you.

Afterwards you agree to join some of your fellow classmates for drinks. You make a quick pit stop at home to change but something on your doorstep distracts you for a moment. There's a colourful bouquet of flowers resting against the wood. You pick them up, feeling slightly perplexed.

They're beautiful, it's undeniable. The scent of them invades your nostrils as you search for a card, hoping to get the identity of the sender. The inscription on the paper is short but you know instantly who they're from.

Congratulations, butterfly x

You're not sure how he knew today was your graduation day (you suspect Hyerin has a role in that somewhere) but your glad to hear from him, even if it's indirectly. Jimin is thinking of you.

You take the flowers inside and put them in some water. The decision to call Jimin to say thank you comes naturally, that's what people do when they receive gifts. It's the perfect excuse.

The phone rings a little too long before he picks up and suddenly you feel nervous.

"Hi." He breathes into the phone and the nerves are gone.

masterlist

[anarchy-n-glitter]

RE: Betrayal

Summary: After surviving long enough through her own personal hell, Jolene begins to experience what life has become for those outside the mines, and she begins to worry about her old friend Zoe.

(Warnings: Referenced sexual assault, gore, graphic depictions of violence, abuse)

PART 2

CHAPTER 4

The next few years were an awful, never-ending cycle of torture for Jolene. She was forced to stay within the confines of her new bed, trapped within the white walls of the mines. The sheets she sat upon were scratchy against her bare skin, and within these few weeks, cuts and bruises had emerged on her skin. This, however, was not because of her sheets. Lucas did this; one of her best friends since childhood and one of the few people she actually trusted. Within time, she felt like a fool. She felt cheated. But most importantly, she was broken.

He came in every other day. He didn’t just want sex, but most of the time it was that, or it was something that would lead to sex later on. Again, it was a viscous cycle she was subjected to on the daily. Jolene missed the sweet taste of freedom, she missed her family and her friends (her old friends, that is, not the ones she barely recognized). Lucas, on the other hand, couldn’t seem to realize that what he was doing was not helping him in any way, shape, or form. He loved her, he had all along. This infection had given him the strength to do what he had wanted to do all along. He wanted to make her his, and in his messed up state of mind, this was the only way to do it.

The next time he came in, she looked as if she could be dead. Lucas thought that she was sleeping at first, but then he realized that she wasn’t breathing. He couldn’t have cared less at first, but then something within compelled him to save her. With a groan, he made his way to her. Leaning over her limp body, he silently searched for any signs of life. He was able to find a pulse. It didn’t take too long for her hand to shoot up and reach for his neck successfully, her small hands wrapping around his neck and squeezing. His hands grasping at her arms as she threw him down onto the bed.

“The key.” She spat.

“Where’s the fucking key for this thing?” She then moved her foot so he knew what she meant. His eyes began to bulge, but he refused to blink. No matter how badly she wanted to snap his neck, she couldn’t do it, and he knew she wouldn’t; because they both knew that she couldn’t kill him, or else she’d die in there.

His eyes began to roll back and his eyelids lowered, forcing her to let go. She was still on him, though, as he gasped for air and tried to claw away from her.

“Where is the key, Lucas?” He weakly reaches for his pocket, where he extracts a ring of keys. Hastily, Jolene grabs them and immediately got to work on the shackle on her leg. Lucas sat up and pulled himself away from her to watch her struggle to find the right key, and when she did she was going to get severely punished. They jingled as she went through them, trying her best to jam it into the cuff on her ankle, only to find that it wouldn’t fit and move on to the next key. And repeat.

Each time she would look over her shoulder, she’d see Lucas standing in the middle of the room, watching on, the look of anger present on his face. He was waiting. She had to get out of there. She had to get that thing off of her ankle or she’d regret it for the rest of her life. After a few moments of waiting and frustration, he began to move toward her.

“Don’t you fucking come near me.” She practically growled. Lucas visibly jumped back as he saw it. Her teeth were bared, and he could see the fangs that had grown in. Her veins were showing through her pale skin, but they weren’t the usual color of veins. He soon realized that his dear Jolene was turning. If he wasn’t careful, she might actually be able to hurt him. He knew he had to work fast. If Jolene was turning she’d soon be under Eveline’s influence… and he couldn’t have that, could he?

Jolene shook her head and groaned in pain. She could feel the transformation happening to her, and it was far from pleasant. Her muscles ached, which began to agitate her further. She tugged on her chains, which, to her surprise, began to give way. The metal piece attached to the calcified salt wall that held the chain in place moved. Half of it was bent away from the wall, and Jolene knew that if she tugged once more it’d give, then she could grab her clothes and get the hell out of there. However, she was so focused on getting the chain loose, she didn’t see Lucas walking toward her again. She was stronger now, and if she learned to control this new power, she’d be out of there in no time. He grabbed her by the shoulder before shoving her into the wall head first, causing her to partially revert and curl into a ball, holding her head with both her hands. Lucas grabbed her hair and pulled her up to look at him.

“You dumb slut.” He spat before shoving her back into the mattress. Her instincts kicked back in and she felt her fingers burn and ache as her nails grew into what could only be described as claws. As he snatched the keys back up, Jolene lunged at him like a ravenous animal. She had cut his right hand open, which prompted another angry response from Lucas.

“I swear to god, girl! If you don’t cut it the fuck out, I’ll fuckin’ kill ya.” He warned and shoved the keys back into his pocket. He grabbed her hair again and her hands flew up to grab at his, as if it would lessen the pain. He pulled back, forcing her head up to stare at him.

“I don’t know why I even bother tryin’ to keep you alive.” He spat, venom dripping in his voice. He stared at her for a long time, observing to see if she had any fear left in her, to see if she would keep fighting. Despite her terrified exterior, he could see a glint of defiance shining in her eyes. He had to work fast and he knew it. He threw her down again, like a rag doll. She landed face first into the mattress, but she remained there. She didn’t look up to see that he had left. Instead, she turned her head toward the wall, laying her cheek on the scratchy sheets. A single tear dripped down the bridge of her nose. ‘It was worth a try.’ She told herself. She thought about this long after he was gone. How he could have killed her while she was looking for the damn key. And yet, after everything that has happened to her, she still couldn’t believe that this was happening to her. Despite what she’s seen, despite what she’s endured, she wondered if she was better off dead. She stared at the undone sheets in somewhat of a daze. She really didn’t want to die, but if it were to get away from Lucas… maybe it wasn’t that bad.

2

A few days later, Lucas returned. He was in much better spirits than the last time they had seen each other, and he was hiding something behind his back. Normally, something like this would scare her, but she welcomed it. Whether it be good or bad. Maybe it was a way out, or it was just something to prolong the torture.

“Jolene, sweetie, I brought something for ya!” He giggled sadistically. She felt as if her disgust and distain for him was radiating off of her. He, however, was not stopped by her lack of a response. He had a plan and he was going to go through with it, and he wasn’t going to let her trick him again. He stood by the end of the bed, facing her relaxed form.

Lucas then brought the two items in front of him, as if to present them to her. She refused to turn over still. In his hands was an oversized t-shirt and a leather leash, complete with a collar.

“C’mon Jolene, get excited! I’m takin’ you for a walk today!” He exclaimed. She looked over her shoulder to see what he had brought her, and her heart leapt into her throat. The first thing she had saw was the t-shirt, and she was immediately overjoyed. She hadn’t gotten to wear clothes in years, and there he was, presenting her with a shirt for her to wear.

She turned over completely and sat up, but that was when she saw the catch. He could see her excitement disappear at the sight of the leash and collar. He smiled and picked up the collar, twirling it around his finger.

“Now, ya didn’t think I’d just let you roam free, did ya?” He taunted. She closed her eyes. Clothes in exchange for wearing a stupid collar? It was worth it, she knew that, but why did she still feel gross about wearing the damn thing?

She didn’t say anything.

“I’ll let ya put the shirt on first, think of it as a gift.” He giggled again.

“After all, isn’t it your lil brother’s birthday today?” He asked tauntingly. She looked up at Lucas, fear striking through her.

“Adam?” She asked. He burst out laughing.

“So ya can talk! I thought ya lost your voice for a couple seconds there. Ya know, after all that screamin’.” He winked, implying that she was yelling for more than just help, which was far from the truth. She felt tears welling up in her eyes.

“Why did ya bring up Adam? What did ya do to him?” She asked, this time more sternly. Lucas tossed the shirt to her and she caught it, holding it against her chest as a cover.

“Nothin’ yet. Just listen to me and nothin’ will.” He warned. Jolene slipped the shirt over her head and let it fall over her. It was much longer than she expected it to be, and when Lucas helped her off of the bed to stand it fell down to just above her knees. He wrapped the collar around her neck and fastened it, before putting the leash on it. Then he took the key out of his pocket. Jolene watched and realized that the key to the shackle was never on the ring of keys and he saw that as some game too, even if it infuriated him.

She put her left leg down onto the floor and Lucas tugged at her leash.

“C’mon girl, we got places to be!” He shouted gleefully before dragging her toward the metal door, where she’d see the outside world again after years of being underground.

CHAPTER 5

He led her down winding tunnels of white, where fluorescent lamps secured by thin wires were their only source of light. He walked ahead of her and kicked away any molded that got in their way. Some were large, standing at seven feet tall with skin that was bubbling and melting away. Others would crawl on all fours. They were much smaller and faster than the other ones. Lucas had a harder time fending them off compared to the tall ones. All of them reeked of rotting flesh. The mere sight of the molded creatures struck fear into the heart of the poor girl. She had no clue what they were, and she had no plans of being acquainted.

Soon, they would reach an elevator. Lucas pushed the red button on the right side of it, allowing the cage-like door to open the small space before them. It seemed to screech in protest and nearly got stuck at one point. Jolene looked over at Lucas wearily, and he merely smiled and gestured for her to enter first, which she did without any fuss. She got to go outside again; she could get out of the stuffy mines.

He was quiet the whole way up, lost in thought. He knew that Jolene would be seeing Eveline sooner or later, and he didn’t want to explain to her what he was doing with a girl locked in the mines; especially if she was a candidate for the family. Lucas wanted to avoid this at all costs, Jolene was his and no one else’s. He had what he wanted and Eveline was going to have to pry her dead body from his hands if she got to her.

That was another thing. If, and only if, Eveline managed to get into Jolene’s head Lucas would have no choice but to kill her. His whole cover could be blown if Eveline was lurking in her head. Not to mention that the research conducted by The Connections and himself suggest that Eveline could still kill those infected, even if they weren’t under her influence.

The elevator rattled and screeched as its rusted foundations struggled to bring the two up. Jolene felt anxiety bubble up within her as she thought about why Lucas was actually taking her out of her little room in the mines. Perhaps he was finally going to kill her, despite how many times he told her he couldn’t do it no matter how hard he tried. She knew that, under the right circumstances, he’d be capable of it and he’d do it in a heartbeat.

After a few more moments, the elevator stopped. The door slid open again, rattling loudly in the process. This time, Lucas stepped out first, tugging on Jolene’s leash as he moved farther away from her, causing her to stumble and trip on her own feet.

The mines soon became a cleaner area with an actual tile floor and drywalls. Jolene’s jaw fell open as she gaped in surprise. This whole time there had been a lab underneath the Baker estate and she had no clue about it. They had been building this place over her head almost the whole time she was there.

“What the hell?” She muttered to herself, drawing the attention of Lucas. He didn’t look back at her as he spoke.

“Take it in, baby. Now ya know where I’ve been when I wasn’t with ya.” He told her in a smug voice. She walked a bit faster to catch up with him. For once she wanted to look him in the eyes as she spoke to him. She wanted straight forward answers.

“What do ya mean?” She asked. He looked at her and realized she didn’t look like the meek, scared woman she was in the mines. If he wasn’t careful she could be dangerous. He’d have to break her down again.

“Better wipe that look off’r yer face before I do somethin’ that these nice people wouldn’t want to see.” He warned. Jolene furrowed her eyebrows in confusion.

“What do-”

“I said cut it out!” He shouted. Jolene gasped in surprise and tried to back up. Lucas tugged on the leash harshly, knocking Jolene over onto her knees. When she was on the ground he grabbed ahold of her hair and forced her to look up.

He saw it then, the look that she had in her room in the mines. The fearful eyes, ones that were filled to the brim with fear. He felt relieved and almost overjoyed at the sight. Her small, cold hands were enveloping his own cold hand that was wrapped around a clump of her hair, and he felt the electricity of her touch. He felt as if he could hear her heart beating; beating faster as the seconds passed. His own blood began to flow throughout him, unbearably warm and fast.

“L-Lucas, yer hurtin’ me. Please, please stop.” She begged. She continued on with the begging, but it was all white noise as Lucas tried to control himself. He tried to remind himself that he would get in trouble if he took her right then and there, despite how little he cared about the rules. He was looking for every reason not to act on this impulse he felt, and her begging made it worse. He pulled her up, holding her small frame against his as he brought his lips to her ear.

“Ooh baby.” He groaned, causing a shiver to run up Jolene’s spine.

“Keep beggin’ like that and see what happens.” He continued. Jolene went limp, knowing that if she tried to struggle, tried to get away, he’d just get angry with her again. His left hand trailed up the back of her thigh, the rope from the leash leaving brief, ghostly touches on her leg, making its way to the hem of the shirt she was wearing. She knew that she was indecent underneath but she knew she wouldn’t do anything to stop him.

She felt him grow hard against her and felt her stomach lurch at the idea of him taking her there. She wanted nothing to do with him and she wanted to push him away, tell him to stop. Yet she knew that he wouldn’t stop. If she pushed him and ran he’d strangle her with the damn leash.

The hallway was silent. They were the only two present and Jolene assumed that anyone who was there were either dead or working in one of the doors. Lucas’s groaning and panting echoed through the corridor, bringing a blush to Jolene’s face. ‘What if someone hears him?’ She thought to herself, feeling embarrassed by the thought of someone walking out to see them.

“Lucas.” A voice cut through the air like a sword. A sword to slay the dragon. Jolene’s head turned and she looked at the source of the voice, ready to cry out for help.

There was a man standing there. He was tall and thin, but, unlike Lucas, he wasn’t deathly thin. He seemed healthy enough. He had short brown hair that was swept away from his face, not quite slicked back but it was enough to keep it from being a liability in the lab. He wore round glasses that sat on the bridge of his nose. He glared at them coldly.

“Please, I’d advise you not to do… whatever this is… in the middle of the hallway. Some of us have places to be.” He scolded. Jolene could hardly believe it. She thought for a brief moment about trying to call for help again, but her voice got caught in her throat.

“Ah, Dr. Reed, I’ve been lookin’ for ya. I got somethin’ for ya.” Lucas told the man as he turned Jolene around and shoved her toward the man. Dr. Reed simply looked at the girl at his feet as she slowly got back up. He took note of her condition; pale skin, black-colored veins. He knew that she was infected.

“And why, exactly, are you bringing her to me?” Dr. Reed asked as he stared Jolene down.

“Well, ya see, I’ve had this little thing going with her for the past two weeks and, uh, I’d rather not have Eveline intervene in that.” Dr. Reed looked up at Lucas finally, glaring at him as he put the pieces together. He didn’t exactly like Lucas, or the things he’s implying he might have been doing to this girl, but he could admit he was a bright man and had a future at The Connections… even if he was insane.

“So what do you want me to do about that?” He asked Lucas, who simply laughed.

“C’mon doc, I want ya to whip up some of that good stuff ya made for me.” Lucas replied.

“The serum?” He responded.

“Yeah! That stuff.” Dr. Reed yanked the cord of Jolene’s leash out of Lucas’s hands, and suddenly Jolene felt a glimmer of hope. He wrapped the leash around his fist and led her through the halls, toward two, large double doors.

The room itself was clean and simple. It had a blue, white, and green color scheme to it and it had a metal observation table. There was a counter with a sink and a few laptops set up along it. There were empty test tubes set up near the wall on the counter and a clipboard next to those. Jolene felt a bit intimidated by the new setting, but hoped that maybe the doctor could pull a fast one on Lucas and help her escape.

“Ma’am, would you mind sitting on the observation table?” Dr. Reed asked. Jolene nodded and walked over to the table before hopping onto it. She watched as Dr. Reed and Lucas whispered to each other and wondered what the hell was going on.

“You don’t want Eveline to know about her?” The doctor asked.

“Course not, she’ll want her to herself.” Lucas responded. Dr. Reed merely sighed.

As their conversation dragged on, Jolene felt her head become fuzzy. Her surroundings took on a greenish hue and everything bled together when she would look around. She felt as if she were going to pass out. When she thought things couldn’t get weirder, she saw a little girl standing in the doorway. Dr. Reed went to shut the double doors and Jolene wanted to warn him, but something prevented her from doing so.

A faint whispering filled her head and grew louder every second. As the doors swung closed the girl disappeared, but they reopened again, this time the gap was slightly smaller than the gap before and the girl was there again, staring at Jolene. When the doors closed again she was gone, as Jolene expected. However, she wasn’t there when they reopened either. Jolene took in a sharp breath, but the men didn’t seem to notice.

The girl appeared in front of Jolene, and she jumped back.

“Who are you?” The girl asked, her voice sounding like it was the loudest in the world. Jolene winced at the pain it caused her. The girl looked around, trying to figure out what was going on.

“Where are you?”

“I don’t know.” Jolene answered. The girl turned her attention back to Jolene.

“Are you lying to me?” She asked.

“No.”

Jolene’s rambling caught the attention of Dr. Reed and Lucas, causing Lucas to panic. Dr. Reed rushed over toward one of the drawers and grabbed a syringe.

“Now she knows where we are!” Lucas shouted. The doctor nodded, waving Lucas off as he reached into the fridge and pulled out a container filled with a dark green liquid. He uncovered it and stuck the syringe in, drawing the liquid into the chamber. He then rushed over to Jolene who, at the sight of the doctor, returned to normal. The girl was gone and her vision had cleared. She looked up at Dr. Reed, her head and eyes feeling heavy.

“W-what was that?” She asked. The doctor didn’t answer, instead, he plunged the needle into her neck and released the liquid into her. She sat still and let the warmth flood her body before passing out.

CHAPTER 6

Jolene woke up a few hours later with no recollection of what had happened before she passed out. She remembered leaving her room, and she remembered the large, tar-like creatures that seemed to inhabit the mines.

Her head felt light and she sat there for a few minutes as she watched the world around her spin. She didn’t remember what happened and she didn’t want to remember. A voice could be heard from outside the door. It was low and spoke in a harsh whisper. Jolene went to get up, but realized that her ankle was shackled to the bed frame again. She closed her eyes and listened.

The words were muffled, seemingly bleeding together into one long word that made absolutely no sense. From the slight accent she realized it was Lucas and all she could do was close her eyes and hope he wouldn’t come in. She hoped that he was leaving and got caught up with other things. She hoped that whatever he wanted to do he had already done.

Then she heard it; the one name that brought hope back into her, the one name that reassured her that everyone was there.

“Zoe.”

Jolene sat back, leaning against the salt walls to think about the girl she had completely forgotten about.

She couldn’t believe it. From the sounds of it, Lucas sounded pretty pissed off about her, and Jolene wondered what it was that she had done.

She thought of her as she knew her, hoping that she was the same bright eyed girl she knew. She thought of her thin, pink lips that were always curved into a smile when she was around her. Her eyes, those beautiful grey eyes that Jolene would give anything to see again. Then there was her pale skin that would tint pink on the warmest days of the summer.

Jolene stopped and realized that she was looking back on Zoe as if she were in love with her. It was funny, after all, she did always favor Zoe over Lucas, and it wasn’t just because he was slightly… unpleasant. Jolene never thought about it before, how she never really understood the drama in school over guys. She had convinced herself that she just wanted to focus on school, but deep down, despite how deeply it was buried, she knew that wasn’t the reason.

The door burst open, causing Jolene to jump in shock. Lucas stood there, looming in the doorway like some monster that lurked in the dark,

(Like the real monsters that lurked in the mines)

huffing angrily and bearing its teeth. He stared Jolene down, scanning her face for an emotion, any emotion. In reality, he was looking for a reason to take his anger out on her. He wanted to blame his failures on her.

The traps were destroyed?

She did it.

Someone escaped and now dad was mad?

Her fault.

Some of the molded got into the labs and now a guy went missing? And they blamed Lucas?

Jolene killed him.

But he knew it wasn’t that simple. Jolene had been sleeping this whole time. Hopefully she was cured. Dr. Reed had told him that she needed to stay in the labs so he could observe her and make sure she didn’t reject the serum. Lucas declined and carried her over his shoulder back into her room in the mines. As he carried her away, he ended up confirming Dr. Reed’s suspicions.

He looked at her, seeing the fear in her eyes, the horrified look of a victim. He smiled maliciously at her, as he approached the bed. The door remained open.

She brought her knees to her chest and pressed herself up against the wall as much as she could as he inched closer to her. Her breathing became ragged as fear coursed through her veins. Now she was sure she wanted nothing to do with him. She wanted to distract him, she had to think of something quickly.

“Why’d ya mention Zoe? Is she here?” She asked without thinking. Lucas glared down at her, anger boiling back up.

“All I wanted was to forget about that stupid bitch and now you’re bringin’ it back up!” He yelled in her face. Jolene flinched as his hot breath hit her along with small specks of spit. She calmly wiped her face off before speaking again.

“I won’t just drop it, Lucas. I heard you talkin’ bout Zoe and now I wanna know.” She demanded. He groaned angrily, rubbing his face in the process as he stood up. Jolene was treading on dangerous ground, and she was still visibly frightened, but her constant questioning couldn’t go without punishment. She watched him pace, stomping around like the infected from all those years ago.

“She’s alive?” Jolene asked softly, hoping that her tone would calm him down.

He acted without thinking again. In the blink of an eye he was on her, his right hand wrapped around her throat. He looked in her eyes as she grabbed at his hand, silently pleading for him to let her go. Zoe was getting in his way again, and he’d be damned if he let her take Jolene away from him.

But it wasn’t Zoe who was taking Jolene from him.

She began to kick, first at him, then anywhere she could. She realized that if she kicked hard enough, she could take the chain off of the wall, like she had almost done before, and maybe then she could use it as a weapon.

She wanted to die, but there was still a part of her that wouldn’t let go. The part of her that urged her to survive, to get out of there and see her family again, go to college and live her life. She refused to let Lucas win.

“Quit kickin’!” He yelled, his other hand reaching out behind him to grab ahold of her left leg. She avoided it and continued, her head beginning to pound. She wasn’t sure if it was because of the lack of oxygen or something else, but it hurt like hell. Her jaw ached, as did her fingertips.

Her mouth opened and a strained cry came out. Her eyes were closed tightly in pain as something tore through her gums.

Blood. She tasted blood.

Her fingers felt like they were being set on fire.

She could have sworn something was crawling through her lower back.

Lucas looked at her as she screamed in pain, thinking it was all his doing. Tears fell from her eyes and he found himself smiling. His breathing quickened and he found joy in her agony, watching her writhe in pain, gasping for air and trying to get away from him. He could end her, but torturing her would be much more fun.

Then it happened. He felt something sharp dig into his hand. He looked down to find blood flowing from where her fingers were attached. He let go of her throat and tried to yank his hand away from her grasp, but soon realized that her nails were inside him. He took a closer, albeit more panicked, look at his hand as it gushed blood.

The crimson liquid pooled onto her bed, soaking the scratchy sheets and the mattress. He wanted to be with her, didn’t he? Now he had no choice. His blood was there; he’d be with her as long as she remained in that room. He gasped at the sight of her long, black talons protruding from his hand. They had gone right through.

He wanted to scream, to rip her claws out of him and run, but he knew what state she was in. If left unattended, she’d escape.

(Or she’d die trying)

She pulled him closer and bit into his neck, allowing her fangs to pierce his skin. This time he did scream. He put his good hand on her head and tried to push her off of him, but it didn’t work. She simply bit down harder, which caused him to lift his hand from her head. Her other hand reached up to grab his, and she had effectively pierced through his other hand.

She then pushed herself onto him, knocking him over and onto the bed, where she hovered over him, her teeth still buried in his neck. Blood gushed from within her mouth and bubbled down the side of his neck.

She was stiff on top of him. She looked like she weighed nothing, yet here she was, holding Lucas down like she was a boulder. Her claws were buried deep inside of Lucas’s hands and the mattress, effectively pinning him onto the bed. She hoped that she could keep him down long enough so it’d take him a while to heal… even if she knew he’d come back to hurt her even worse later.

He couldn’t speak. He could feel the blood pooling in the back of his throat. Her teeth dug deeper into his flesh and it was a sharp, searing pain, causing him to open his mouth. It was as if he wanted to scream, but he couldn’t. So he sat there, with her on top of him practically ripping his throat to shreds, his mouth open and gaping like a fish out of water. He couldn’t lift his arms; her strength had increased due to the mutation that occurred. If Lucas wasn’t being attacked, he would have quickly realized that her mutation was triggered by stress. Sadly, however, he probably wouldn’t have stopped if he knew this.

Jolene felt tired. Her mutation normally took a toll on her, and this was the longest she had ever been able to maintain this state. Her jaw loosened and more blood gushed from the wound. There was a strangled cry that came from Lucas as her claws slowly left his hands. Jolene began to sit back, feeling extremely light-headed. Her eyes felt heavy again and her eyelids began to close. She leaned backward, finally falling asleep.

Lucas laid next to her, bleeding out on her mattress. She was asleep like nothing happened, his blood smeared around her mouth like makeup. He took deep breaths, unsure of how to react to the situation or how he would address it next time he saw her. As he drifted off to sleep, he thought of what he’d say to her when he woke up, what he’d do to her. It was only a matter of time.

CHAPTER 7

Bright lights flashed, lighting up both the room next door and the room with both Lucas and Jolene in it. Jolene, who was laying on the floor, shifted in her sleep. She could faintly hear Lucas’s loud, obnoxious voice as he taunted someone. The lights were enough to wake her from her slumber, but combined with the yelling that was going on? She woke up.

The room they were in seemed to be by the boathouse, next to the barn. She looked at the monitors and the cameras that sat on the walls, all focused on Lucas. Next to her was a box of cameras. Some of which were cracked but others seemed fine, they were hand-held ones, and really old. Jolene wondered if any of them still worked, and she wondered if she could sneak one out with her.

“And the winner is… Clancy!” Lucas boomed as he hit a button next to him, startling Jolene. He heard her gasp and turned his head slightly to look at her, smirking to himself. He turned off his intercom and let the two men in the other room continue their game.

“Well, look who’s awake.” He said, spinning around in his chair. Jolene’s hand immediately went to her neck, where she felt the collar once more. Lucas chuckled at this.

“Did ya really think I was gonna let ya sit in here with nothin’ holdin’ ya in? After what happened last night?” He taunted. Jolene went to say something, but she was cut off by the intercom.

“I’ll stay.”

“I’m gonna stay.”

Lucas whirled around in excitement.

“And the winner is… Clancy!” He announced once more before pushing the button again, which prompted a recording of people cheering. A man groaned, which was followed up by screams of pain. Jolene jumped back again.

“What the fuck was that?” Jolene asked. Lucas smiled sadistically at her and rolled away from the monitors. He gestured her to come over. Jolene sat there, staring wide eyed at him, unsure if looking was truly the best idea.

“Why don’t ya come and look for yerself? I made sure that leash of yers was long enough so ya could…” He stopped to giggle to himself.

“Join in on the fun.” He finished. His phrasing made Jolene uncomfortable. She felt dread spread throughout her and she became sure that looking wasn’t going to be pleasant, but she knew that if she didn’t she’d have to deal with Lucas.

She looked at the screens and saw two men sitting at a table. Another screen was focused on the cards they had in front of them. They both wore bags over their heads. The men would wave their hands and ask for another card, or say that they’d stay. Jolene quickly understood what game they were playing. But what truly unnerved her was the giant saw that was placed between them. The loser would have to pay up, wouldn’t they? And what better way to pay?

“How long have they been at this?” Jolene asked, tracing her finger around the applause button. Lucas rolled back up next to her, shooing her hand away.

“’Bout an hour now.” He answered. They both said they’d stay and Lucas quickly acted. Their cards flipped.

“And the winner is… Hoffman!” He hit the applause button, but a chorus of groans came from the room on the screen. The saw began to move toward the other man, and he struggled to move away from it. Just as she thought it was going to hit him, it stopped. Its blades barely grazing the burlap sack on the man’s head. Jolene let out a sigh of relief.

“I wouldn’t be too relieved for him, princess. We still have one more round to go.” He told her as he laced his fingers together and placing his head on top and watching the screens intently. As the game went on, Lucas had an idea. He could make her deal the last blow; have her kill the loser. The idea excited him even further, and the more he thought of it he became sure he’d do it.

At last the men announced that they were done, and he called her over. She stood behind him and watched as he refrained from flipping the cards.

“Lucas, just tell em who won.” She said, annoyance present in her voice. They sat there, looking around and waiting for Lucas to come back on the speaker and tell them who won.

“Come ‘ere.” He demanded again. She refused to move closer. He reached out and grabbed her hand, pulling her toward both him and the controls.

“Press the button.” He told her. She looked up at him, wide eyed.

“What?”

“Press the damn button.” He began to pull her hand toward the controls again. There were two buttons, one pointing up and the other pointing down. It was impossible to tell where it would be going, seeing as the screens showed the men from different angles, two of them were positioned behind a man and facing the other. Jolene looked back at Lucas, silently pleading for him to stop.

“I’m not gonna tell them who lost until you press the button.” He told her. She felt tears well up in her eyes. She wanted to resist but… she had to think about what would happen to the men if she refused.

“Lucas, please, I’ll do anything! Don’t make me kill those men!” She begged. He laughed at her pathetic attempt at bargaining.

“You’ll be lucky if I let ya blow me after this. We still haven’t talked ‘bout last night yet.” He said, not holding back at all. Her arm was beginning to become tired, the dull aching tingled underneath her skin. Lucas wasn’t going to let up anytime soon, and she knew this.

“Which one?” She practically shouted. Lucas smiled and leaned over to the intercom. He spoke without breaking eye contact with her.

“And the winner is… Clancy!” She looked down at the controls again.

“Which one, Lucas? Which one?” She yelled again.

“Up.” He answered, his grip not letting up on her wrist. She hit the up arrow without hesitation. The saw began to spin, moving slowly to the person she hoped was Hoffman. It was messed up as it was that she was hoping it’d hit anyone.

Blood flew through the air and splattered on the cameras, covering the image in small specks. Jolene flinched, feeling horrible for what she had just done.

“We’re done now? Right?” The man asked. Everything was quiet, and all of them sat there. Lucas leaned back, his lips pursed as he thought. He put his legs up on the table, each foot on the other side of the TV, so he could clearly see the screen. Jolene felt as if her and the man were sitting on the edge of their seat. She knew that Lucas was pissed at her for what had happened the night before, and this man wanted his freedom. Lucas hit the applause button again.

He turned the camera in front of him back on and sat there for a few moments, looking unimpressed. Jolene stood behind him, looking at the screen curiously.

Clancy saw her and wanted to bring it up, but decided that it wasn’t important. He had to get out of there.

Lucas began to clap sarcastically. Clancy said nothing as he stared at Lucas.

“Will you let me go now?” He asked over the sounds of Lucas’s slow claps. He shifted, bringing his legs off of the table and adjusting his position in the chair.

“You are one cold son of a bitch.” He stated, directed at both Clancy and Jolene. She felt guilty once more, knowing that she had just taken a life. Clancy felt a little guilty, but he knew deep down that it was him or Hoffman.

“Now you impressed me so much I’m gonna give you an extra reward.” Lucas said, pointing to the screen. He leaned back, pondering his own thoughts again.

“We gonna play another game, you an’ me.” He told him, his voice barely concealing how excited he was about it. He laughed. Jolene took a step back, hoping she wouldn’t have to participate in this one.

“Ain’t life grand?” Lucas asked in a sing-song like voice. Clancy shook his head frantically.

“No! I can’t take this anymore! Please!” He screamed. Lucas shook his head, chuckling to himself once more before turning the camera off. He looked over at Jolene, who was backed up against the wall near the door. He shut off all the monitors before standing and making his way toward her, stalking her like a predator would to prey. She cowered.

“Is your offer still up?” He asked, his fingers gently caressing her arm.

“N-no.” She told him.

“Darlin’, I don’t think ya have a choice.” He told her before forcing her down onto her knees.

2

Jolene walked through the mines with Lucas guiding her. She felt disgusting. Not only did she just kill a man, but Lucas had just forced himself on her again. He hadn’t done that in a while, and despite the many times it had happened, she would never become desensitized from it. She’d always feel awful afterward; always have this lingering feeling. Always know that she was violated and he didn’t care.

Her arms were wrapped tightly around her chest. It was her comforting herself, yet at the same time it was her covering up what she had stolen.

In her shirt was a camera. She wasn’t sure it worked, hell, for all she knew all of the cameras in that box were broken. But she had faith. She would record a message in the mines for someone to find, maybe Zoe, or someone else who could help. That’s what it was: a cry for help. She couldn’t take this anymore. There’s only so much she could take.

Lucas shackled her leg again as Jolene shifted onto her stomach. After he was done, he laid the sheet over her small frame without a second thought. She felt her nose wrinkle in disgust and she rolled her eyes.

He left without saying a word.

Jolene sat up, taking the camera out from underneath her shirt and turning it on. It glowed a bright blue after she hit the button and a name was displayed on the small screen. She quickly flipped the small display so it was facing the side with the actual camera before turning the camera around so it was facing her.

She hit record.

“Zoe? Anybody? Please. I’m still alive, I’m here, and I know that people are probably lookin’ for me. Or at least I hope they are. I just want the person who’s watching this to know that I’m alive! I’m alive but I don’t know for how long. I… I think I’ve been infected with somethin’. I saw somethin’ the other day before I was given some sort of medicine, I didn’t hallucinate after that. But I know that I have these powers of some sort, and I don’t want to end up like those monsters out there. If anybody finds this, send help. Please, I’m in the-”

The door opened… and Lucas stepped in.

[oftripps]

“ –– wow. ”  it’s not so much a critique as it is a g-rated expletive. tripp forces a smile mid-chew and blinks. “ my tastebuds are screaming. gah–– uh, singing. singing. ”  he avoids swallowing and as ring-decorated fingers snag a napkin, wide eyes drifting to the tabletop as a small jingle breezes past tensed lips. “ ~ allergic to mushrooms ~ ”

or, alternatively: this is somethin’ new! the caspar slide pt. 2 !! & this time, it’s ‘bout to get funky !!  so i’m linc and this is tripp and he’s........ a trip, honestly, so let’s just... yeet on into this ––

( joe keery + 22 + muse 12 ) isn’t that phillip joel “tripp” goodman over there? i heard he joined faction: one after they got back to west ham. it’s funny, ‘cause they were only on the service trip because HIS BANDMATES DUPED HIM INTO THINKING THE SIGN-UP WAS FOR A WOODS-THEMED OPEN MIC GIG. hopefully they fit in there – they’re JAUNTY but also OUTRÉ. oh, i’m sure they’ll be fine.

out the door !  ( tripp goodman: a roadmap )

look up townie family in the dictionary and you’ll find a portrait of the goodmans directly beside. these folks have a looooong flippin’ legacy here in lil’ ole west ham, kansas. it all started with montgomery goodman, a good man, who helped west ham’s founders break ground on this midwestern charmer several centuries ago. and now, the goodmans still live on the same property –– a refurbished farmhouse ( now closer to mcmansion ) surrounded by five acres of roooooollin’ hills. once upon a time, they were farming folk. now, theresa and joel goodman run the town’s one and only veterinary clinic. 

honestly, growing up? tripp was a problematic kid. he’d take in frogs from the woods and start his own frog hotels. he’d sneak pets from the clinic to school who “ needed help learning their numbers ”. in class, he’d flick sunflower seeds at the backs of his peers’ heads and, when threatened with discipline, claim he simply “ wanted to see if they’d grow  ” .  so no, to answer your question–– tripp never really saw the real wrath warranted by his rulebreaking.

in fourth grade, he chose the saxophone as his required instrument. he caused such a commotion in his house, that his parents asked his teachers to suggest something quieter. the viola. the flute. the clarinet. the piano. instruments came and went,;instruments were quickly mastered and abandoned. because dear lord, how many times could they listen to the spongebob theme song played on woodwind ?!  on strings ?!  once middle school rolled around, little phillip joel knew his way around a whopping total of six instruments, a tally that would only grow in the coming years. eventually, his parents caved and allowed him to keep playing, so long as he respected instrument curfews. they gave song requests to avoid hearing the same pieces on repeat: the goodman household was probably the only one blessed with an oboe-and-beatbox rendition of under the sea. young phillip joel’s take on the issue was simple: not all heroes wore capes.

( tw: domestic unrest, mentions of violence ) theresa and joel split when tripp was 9. just seven months later, tripp’s mother moved in with her girlfriend: tripp’s guitar teacher, ms. lillith. tripp didn’t mind ms. lillith. she was chill. he came to find out she could knock back a chocolate milk almost as fast as he could, and she liked her grilled cheeses with swiss only. his best friend became a thirty-six year old woman who happened to be his mother’s girlfriend. and that was fine. he could dig it. but joel goodman? oh no. his family name was tarnished. the scandal was too much to bear. joel sued for full custody and nearly made it, thanks to hometown politics and loyalties. but then he made one fatal mistake: he crossed his own son.

at 10 years old, fifth grade phillip joel returned home to his father’s after school with three fingernails painted effervescent blue. sidney frasier made me so cool, he gushed as he put his colored nails on proud display. dad, aren’t i so cool?  the next day, his dad enrolled him in the town’s peewee football program. he returned home from his first practice with a black eye and a split lip. from a ball, the coach insisted. hit the poor fella square in the face, real strong. phillip joel put up a fight against football; it wasn’t for him. it conflicted with music practice. couldn’t he just play music with ms. lillith instead?

the custody battle persisted. they settled on a parenting schedule. joel contested, consistently, months later. and so the cycle persisted up until phillip joel’s 12th year, when he was knocked out cold on the football field. the broken ribs came from hefty tackles. bruises from the fall. concussion from the impact. but theresa spun it to her advantage: joel had since started coaching the middle school team. this was an instance of parental neglect. and, when the courts didn’t comply, she instructed her son to jump down the stairs. one broken ankle later, and joel goodman was accused of child abuse. his word against his injured son’s. the maneuver won theresa full custody. phillip joel has yet to forgive himself.

after the custody battle’s conclusion, joel stayed in town: but phillip joel didn’t want a thing to do with sharing his name. his mother still scolds him as phillip joel, but to everyone else, he became tripp –– inspired by his knack for, you guessed it!, tumbling over his own two feet.

in high school, tripp was the class clown. always smirking, always grinning, always ready to catch someone off guard. he became a pivotal part of west ham high’s jazz band, and even formed a small group with a few buds: face. they played some school events: homecoming, pep rallies, prom. garage-baked young rock, their songs often preached meetings under bleachers and high school never ending. 

in senior year, the band saw a reboot: and after assuming a more indie, spacey sound and a nifty new name –– 1757. –– they saw a rise in local celebrity. coffee shops commissioned them for jam nights. they played on the local radio. so they collectively decided to stick around and see how far they could ride this west ham fame train. with tripp as their frontman, they always leave a memorable impression: he’s not exactly the most run-of-the-mill performer.

1757.’s sound is reminiscent of LANY: i’ve reblogged a few tunes onto tripp’s blog for reference. he’s v much a paul klein / matty healy vibe. big into music. big into losing himself in it.

so what was he up to before the service trip? playin’ tunes. working part-time as a waiter. and brainstorming ways to get out of going on this trip, as soon as he realized his stupid bandmates lied about the form he signed. an open mic in the woods ! pah !  he should have known. but the concept sounded pretty flippin’ cool.

wear our shades on our nose, 'cause we're cool like that ( tripp goodman: the man, the myth, the ledge )

oh god, he’s  w e i r d .  he believes in goblins and ghosts and aliens ( oh my )!

still VERY VERY close with his mother. v broken up about not being able to get through to her, because it was about to be his parents’ wedding anniversary and they were going to anti-celebrate it with big slices of oreo cheesecake and setting things on fire.

how he feels about coming home to west ham: post apocalyptic version.

uhhhh... can he please get a waffle? specifically a cinnamon raisin waffle with extra cinnamon and a shit ton of syrup? actually. syrup with a side of waffles?

why he was banned from his personal twitter.

“ do you even lift, bruv? ”  * proceeds to pick up a teacup & lift his pinkie like a true knock-off british monarch, shitty accent included *

listens to wham! and glam rock. unironically.bluetooth speaker mounted on his bike. no helmet! like an absolute boss. he knows!! wild!! shades on. it’s 2am. it’s dark. but true swag obeys no clock.

catch him biking everywhere stranger things style, actually. his bike’s name is milo because he can roll on for miles. mess with milo and he’ll fuck u up. aka find out if you’re lactose intolerant and slip heavy cream into your meal.

has a strong vendetta against blue doritos. which might take root in some horrific experiences involving cheez wiz, cool ranch, weed, and the new york subway system at 4am on a tuesday. spring break freshman year of college. oof.

he has a lil drawwwwl. tease him about it. he’ll probably blush.

stress-hums chili’s babyback ribs without realizing. catch him singin’ that about to be murdered.

weapon of choice: kindness.

actual weapon of choice: baseball bat.

he will write little jingles to keep morale up. “ so we’re trapped / cash us inside / how bou’ dat ? ”

has a passion for introspective literary quotes. but... has somehow managed to learn each and every one wrong.

friggin’ loves superheroes even though he can’t be bothered to watch the films? he just… always used to get made fun of for liking comic books even though he never read them? “ arachnid man is uh...  heh. he’s pretty dope, huh? ” he embraces the falsehood. someone call him on it.

9/10 times if he’s in the gym, it’s just to eat his donut and watch pay-per-view movies on the bike for free.

apple pie can absolutely be breakfast if you try hard enough. jeez. get with the times, man!

he had a legitimate pet rock before going on this service trip. but has no idea where that bugger’s gone. probably got fed up with tripp serenading him with “ we will rock you ” at all hours of the night.

lawful good. will wave other drivers on forever.

got into an accident on his bike once. bitch broke his arm and he just kept on smiling.  “ no you have a nice day! and uh.... hey. mind if we like... call an ambulance? ”

low key feels like he’s the reason his parents’ marriage crumbled. low key guilty about it. low key wonders if maybe he lived up to his father’s expectations, he might have saved them a lot of grief.

give benny goodman by saint motel a listen and tell me that’s not his soul in audio form.

known for slightly hyperbolic storytelling.

pansexual as heck. falls in love. hard. it’s a mess. he can’t hide it. hence the shades.

he has brilliant hair. and it’s immortalized in his high school yearbook.

is hellbent on being a source of positivity in this terrible situation. can he interest you in a meme in these trying times? how ‘bout a granola bar? maybe a good ole game of mash?

he’s convinced this is an elaborate prank. or a social experiment. maybe aliens. but let’s not question it too much, let’s just.... have a good time? hakuna matata? no worries? lol where the twizzlers at?!

leaves a voicemail for his mother every morning and every night. maybe he cries. maybe.

he has one ear pierced because like.......... senior year of high school, he wanted to feel more cool.

allergic to mushrooms, shellfish, eggs, and harbingers of doom.

he truly boggles minds. just.... v out there? v spacey. he closes his eyes and drifts about on stage, fingers dancing on the keys, body moving in eclectic ways. he says “groovy” and fuckin’ means it. he dresses in prints inspired by grandma’s carpet. lots of half-buttoned flowy shirts, boots, tailored statement pants, dangly necklaces. he’s got his hands full of rings –– they symbolize milestones. and some are just, like... pretty. and one’s his mother’s old wedding band.

where the hell are my friends !  ( wanted connectz. )

i was gonna do a whole section on this and got lazy but like.... anything. all the things. good, bad, ugly, beautiful. hurt him. make him suffer. but also support him a bit.

i imagine he’s got a solid squad goin’. he’s in faction one too, so... hmu for those.

i feel like he’d be pretty chill with the greeks? yeah bro, he parties. he’ll chill. he’ll crack open a cold one and pretend to understand what those letters on your jacket mean! pie-apple-fate-uh? cool stuff !

ride or dies. pls.

he needs someone to like....... melt his heart. maybe someone unexpected.

thisssss got long & disorganized but yes! let’s plot! let’s do this thang! #hype!!

[babbushka]

Lobster

For the @huxlolidays prompt, “Did you put some sunscreen on?” For those who want to read it on ao3 you can right here!

As General of the First Order, and Co-Commander of the Finalizer, Hux had many perks. One of which was the notion that he could drop everything and go on holiday whenever he wanted. He never did this of course, as there were drills to oversee, reports to be checked, and a mile long list of tasks that needed completion, but still; it was nice to know he had the option. It was times like these that reminded Hux why he never took the offered vacation.

It had been a surprise to everyone when he held a meeting with his team to give them time to prepare for his absence exactly three cycles ago. Phasma had initiated the idea; Kylo had been sent off to some faraway planet for a mission and…well Hux wasn’t doing too well with him gone. He hadn’t been sleeping, hadn’t been eating, and overall was snappish and even more irritable than usual. She had suggested a short vacation of shore leave, just two cycles at the end of the week to hand all his stress over and just, how did she put it, lay the fuck out by the water.

The first day of his leave had been nerve-wrackingly difficult; he kept checking his comm for any news about Kylo’s return, the panic of what if he arrived just as I left, what if he’s sitting in the medbay waiting for me? making the gorgeous seaside views of this Imperial moon not nearly as comforting as Phasma had probably hoped for him.

The second day, however, had found Hux a little more relaxed. He was woken up early by the front desk to let him know it was time for his spa appointment, which Hux hadn’t known he even had. After an hour of massage, he felt infinitely better. He had made a mental note for Kylo to give him massages when they were both back on the ship.

From there, he had gone to spread a First Order regulation towel onto a vibrantly colored lounge chair, and began the process of lathering on the sunscreen. Hux was an intelligent man, and as such, worked it so that his career was mostly spent indoors. He certainly went outside from time to time – giving speeches, inspecting planets for the home of his super weapon, etc. – but that time was limited, mostly spent in tundra environments, and he was always fully clothed. He had packed multiple bottles of high sun protection factor lotion, knowing full well the consequences of hours without some sort of barrier on his skin.

Walking around with his arms, chest, and legs exposed had been a strange feeling at first, but he slowly relaxed, the sound of the gentle waves calming him.

Looking back, Hux decided that this was where it had all gone to shit.

He had let his guard down, and only reapplied the sunscreen three more times, when he really should have applied it four more times throughout the day. He had inspected the color of his skin, it was only a little pink, nothing too concerning, and had forgone the final reapplication. How foolish.

Hux didn’t realize how burnt he was until he stepped back onto the cool and refreshing floors of the Finalizer. It had been warm on the moon, and he thought that his body had acclimated, with skin that was warm to the touch. He didn’t think for one minute to inspect himself in the mirror before departure, too eager to get back home before his partner did.

No one mentioned how the skin on his nose was peeling, or the way the red smudges across his cheeks made him look perpetually flushed. Hux himself didn’t say anything about the way his shoulders itched against the rough material of his uniform shirt, or how the back of his thighs had stung when he peeled the fabric of his trousers away from them.

He left to find Phasma, when he caught sight of himself in the reflection of the Finalizer's polished walls. He was positively devastated at what he saw, he had never been sunburned like this before! The worst thing that had ever happened was his nose had gotten pink once when he was a cadet doing a survival drill in the forest; this was unimaginable. He could clearly see the outline of the sunglasses he had been wearing in the still pale skin around his eyes and bridge of his nose, even where the arms of the glasses rested against the side of his face. Beneath his collar he found bright and angry red skin, his shoulders being rubbed raw from his shirt.

And his freckles. Oh stars, his freckles. He had never particularly liked them before, but he had always gotten by with the knowledge that they were faint for the most part. Now they stood out like a sore thumb, dark spots across his face and arms. It was like they soaked up the sun itself, wanting to be seen.

“General! How was – ” Phasma greeted, immediately cutting herself off when she saw the state he was in. “Holy shit, Hux.” She sucked in a breath, cringing.

“Hello Captain. Despite my current condition, I must thank you for the spa treatment. I wouldn’t have thought to book an appointment, and it certainly helped.” He was in no mood to discuss his failure to protect his own skin, not right that moment at least. Maybe in a few days when it went away they could find this funny (fearsome General of the First Order burned to a crisp), but for now, he was too annoyed to be anything other than exceedingly formal about the entire ordeal.

“I’m glad.” Phasma sounded like she was smiling, but he had no real way of knowing due to her helmet. “Hux, maybe you should go to medbay.” She moved to put a hand on his shoulder, but then thought better of it.

“I will be returning to my quarters as soon as I finish my rounds. Now if that’s all – ” Hux had to grit his teeth in pain as Lieutenant Mitaka came barreling down the hallway, not stopping soon enough, and accidentally knocking into Hux. His entire torso screamed in agony.

“General! Captain! I am so sorry, I didn’t mean to – ” Mitaka looked like he feared for his life, and Hux was nearly about ready to give him reason for it.

“Yes, what is it?” Phasma interrupted, her tone patient.

“Lord Ren’s shuttle has landed, he has returned from his mission.” Mitaka squeaked, before saluting and running off again.

“What perfect timing.” Hux muttered. He was glad to have gotten back on the ship before Kylo, but he had been hoping to have a few moments alone to figure out what to do about his sunburn. He didn’t like Kylo seeing him weak. In their five years of knowing one another, there had only been two instances where Hux had dropped the ball in keeping himself healthy. He wasn’t looking forward to the mocking smiles or teasing jokes that his sunburn would bring.

In the docking bay, Kylo wasted no time striding off his shuttle and making a bee line straight to Hux. Hux stood proud as he always did when he greeted his Knight; chin held high and hands clasped behind his back. His now burning, stinging back.

“Welcome back Lord Ren.” Hux gave a formal nod of his head, and Kylo returned the gesture.

“I’m glad to be home. The mission was a success.” Kylo replied, and Hux’s heart swelled. It had been weeks since he had heard that voice, and he was looking forward to hearing it without the vocoder obstructing its beautiful baritone.

“I look forward to the full report.” He smiled, his cheeks stinging at the slight pull. Kylo nodded, and the two walked side by side out of the bay, not giving a care to any of the officers that watched them.

As soon as they stepped through the threshold of their shared quarters, Kylo was on him. He took off his helmet and his outer robe, draping it over the desk chair as Hux liked. They both kicked off their boots, and then Kylo’s cold hands were gently unbuttoning Hux’s uniform jacket, pulling his tunic and trousers off, leaving him in just his tank top, briefs, and socks. Hux braced himself for laughter.

“Did you put sunscreen on?” Kylo asked gently, no malice in his voice. He began removing his own layers, until he was only in his boxers.

“Of course I did.” He huffed, staring down at his now exposed arms. The sunburn had developed while his limbs were hidden away under the black of his clothing. It was a much deeper red than the pink he remembered from that morning. “Just not enough.”

“Come here.” Kylo turned the shower on, using real water instead of the sonic. Hux rolled his eyes, it was the middle of the work cycle, hardly time to wash, or have sex, whatever he was planning.

“No, Kylo I don’t think – ” Hux began, but the look on Kylo’s face made him stop.

“Trust me?” Kylo asked, dropping his boxers and stepping under the spray.  

Afraid for his skin, Hux hesitated for a very long moment before he shucked the rest of his clothing and put one foot in. He yelped, the water was freezing!

“Kylo! I am not getting in there with you.” He crossed his arms, wincing.

“Hux you’re not the only one in the galaxy who has ever had a sunburn. This will help, I promise.” Kylo pleaded, holding a hand out.

Hux groaned, and eventually had to count to three before entering the shower, letting out a whine as the water hit. After the initial shock, it actually started to feel nice. It was like the cold water was drawing the heat from his abused skin, cooling him down to the bone. He had forgotten what it felt like to not have the ever-present feel of heat on his body. Who knew one day in the sun could cause this much anguish?

“Stop being dramatic.” Kylo smiled, reading Hux’s mind and gently kissing him on the lips; it was the only part of Hux that Kylo knew he wouldn’t get smacked from accidentally hurting his burn. Hux sighed into the kiss, not paying attention as Kylo reached around him and grabbed a bottle of gel.

He pulled back immediately as Kylo spread the gel onto his skin, eyeing it suspiciously.

“Relax, it’s aloe.” Kylo grinned, handing the bottle to Hux to let him read the label. “It’s found on most tropical planets, people use it for this exact reason.”

“You can continue.” Hux sniffed, really enjoying the feeling of the aloe soaking into his skin. The more he thought about it, the happier he was that Kylo showed up right after he did. He didn’t know he and Kylo even owned aloe, they lived on a star destroyer for kriff sake.

“When we get out of the shower, I’ll rub lotion onto your skin too.” Kylo said, mostly to himself.

“How do you know so much about this?” Hux asked, playfully elbowing Kylo in the stomach and watching his lover scrub the weeks of dirt and grime from the mission off his skin and hair.

“Training.” Came the simple reply, his eyes closed so they wouldn’t sting from the shampoo he was lathering into his locks.

“I’m sorry for your suffering, but I’m glad one of us knows how to deal with this.” Hux didn’t know what sort of training required Kylo to have extensive knowledge on treating second degree burns, but he wasn't sure he would like it.

“Next time you’ll just have to bring me along.” Kylo could sense Hux’s mood darkening, and was having none of it. It worked, Hux was laughing.

“Next time! This ship will be lucky if I leave again in the next year!” He shook his head, stepping out of the shower and into a towel that was floating next to the door by way of the force.

“Drama queen.” Kylo chuckled, but Hux didn’t care, he carefully dried himself off and laid down in their bed. The sheets were perfectly cold.

“You know, while I was at the resort, I was given the most wonderful massage, do you think you could put those hands of yours to work?” He called, relaxing on his stomach, letting the cool air hit his back.

Kylo shut the water off, and watched Kylo emerge like some sculpted God with his towel slung low on his hips. There were bruises and gashes he had slapped a bacta patch over that Hux knew he would need to get stitched up for, and he toyed with the idea of sending Kylo away immediately to go see them fixed. The thought of making his lover leave so soon after he had been without him churned in his stomach, so when Kylo patted the space next to him on the bed, Hux rolled over with a smile.

“I missed you.” Kylo’s voice was soft, he carded his fingers through Hux’s hair.

“I missed you too. It was a success, you said?” Hux let his eyes close, enjoying Kylo’s presence.

“Yes, I got what Snoke wanted.” Kylo began spreading lotion all over Hux’s skin.

“Good. Don’t leave again.” His voice broke, remembering all the sleepless nights.

“I won’t.” Kylo leaned down to kiss his General. “As long as you promise not to fry yourself in the sun again.” He teased, making Hux glare.

“Shut up.” He rolled his eyes.

“You know your hair looks extra vibrant with your skin like this.” Kylo grinned, running his fingers through it, making it stick up in all directions because it was still wet.

Hux silenced him with a kiss. Kylo was home, and he learned a valuable lesson in SPF. In the end, he knew he could manage anything with his lover by his side.

[sassyhazelowl]

@shiapark​ - sorry it took me awhile to upload it; I have a lot of my plate right now :) Set over the 7 year time skip and through the GMG arc.

Ultear and Jellal disagreed on many things, although, often, Jellal gave in simply because he saw no reason to fight about it further. He wasn’t ashamed to admit that the Time Witch regularly got her way simply because he let her. Not necessarily out of laziness, however. Often, her ideas and plans were better than his. While he was gifted in many things, especially power and force, she was equally gifted in others, such as subtly and manipulation. The two balanced each other out that way. And of course, it, technically, was her guild; she was the one who rescued him and invited him in and allowed him to stay with them.

Technically, this should have fallen completely under her jurisdiction as well. Yet he was unwilling to give ground.

‘Jellal, that is completely unnecessary. Where ever did you get such an idea?’ 'It’s not.’

'If you must be something to her, be a role model; show her how to act and follow the tenants of the guild. That is what she needs, not a father. How old do you think she is, anyway? Far too old to have a surrogate parent.’

He shook his head in divergence of her opinion. You were never too old to have a parent, surrogate or not. It was something he desperately wanted, deep in his heart. Something that was buried along with his other yearnings of the heart, and something he would never have. But it was something he could give, he thought, somewhat hopefully, trying to hold desperately to what Erza told him about faith. Maybe another child could be saved from the cycle he and the others had found themselves in, orphaned and abandoned, alone in the world. He couldn’t save them; they had all had their families and childhoods violently stolen from them, a cycle of abuse he had aided. But perhaps, in some small way, he could atone with this girl. This lonely, silent little girl, who seemed more like a doll than a child sometimes.

Yet, he found bonding with the child unexpectedly difficult. Not only due to his own cluelessness and inadequacies, as if those weren’t difficult enough, since his only interactions with children stemmed from his own childhood. No, that wasn’t it. She simply didn’t respond to his advances, at all. Questions went unanswered, compliments unacknowledged and commands unheeded. Treats and bribes were ignored entirely. Any move towards touching her resulted in swords and a glare. Certainly, if Ultear told her to, she would respond obediently enough, but he had yet to get her to willingly come or talk to him. It meant nothing if she was just appeasing Ultear.

'You must understand, Jellal, it is my fault, not hers. I taught her to be reserved with strangers, for her safety. It is nothing personal. Please, forgive her.’ But it was personal. Because they’d lived and traveled together now for months. The girl had hardly spoken two words to him any given week and barely acknowledged him in any other way. And she never smiled. When he addressed her, as kindly as he could, she merely stared with empty green eyes. It bothered him, although he couldn’t say why exactly. He wasn’t trying to subvert or replace Ultear; he simply wished the child would show something towards him. At this point, disgust would suffice, or anger. It was unnatural, her lack of emotion and her silence. Children, as far as he knew, should be lively and full of emotion. So much so that they couldn’t control or contain it. Even as child slaves, the children of his childhood were still children; quieter, more subdued, certainly, but they played and had curiosity and dreamed of the future.

He was about to give up, deciding he did not need the approval of a child to fulfill his life, when an event changed their relationship for the better. Ultear left to do a solo mission, infiltrating a guild where Jellal and Meredy couldn’t follow. The utter panic and despair in wide green eyes made Jellal’s heart hurt. It reminded him so much of another set of panicked eyes- panic that he had caused, pain he had caused. Meredy’s pain wasn’t by his hand, this time, but he felt an immense compulsion to relieve her of her suffering.

Even so, he awkwardly tried to appease her with meaningless phrases, like 'Ultear will return’ and 'Please don’t worry.’ Such hollow words hardly helped to stop her frantic pacing or frequent glances for the woman’s safe return. The girl wandered around the camp, nervous and taunt, like a feral animal locked in a cage without a safe place to hide.

By evening she was exhausted, staggering and whimpering, but still acting the same. Ignoring the food he prepared, she finally sank down to sit in the dirt and wait at the edge of the camp. He let her be. When he asked her to come to bed, in the sleeping roll he laid out for her, she acted like she hadn’t heard him. Maybe she truly hadn’t, given how deeply she was in her own head. Jellal let her be again.

In the middle of the night, something startled him awake by creeping up onto his sleeping roll and curling into a miserable, shaking ball. The sleeping roll was hardly intended for two occupants, but she was so small that he felt they could both squeeze in together. Scooping the shivering, thin body against him, he stroked her hair and talked. All night. There wasn’t much to say about himself, at least not that he found appropriate to tell this strange little child; yet he found the words to talk about food, about politics, about the animal life around them, about magic, about Erza, about anything and everything yet nothing. By dawn, he was exhausted, his voice hoarse and raw; he had not talked so much in many years. Yet, he was also filled with satisfaction at the sleeping child nestled against his chest, breathing peacefully and sleeping soundly. Lulled, he drifted off into the first true slumber he’d had in a long time, her small heartbeat under his hands.

Ultear found the two of them later, both snuggled down, looking more peaceful than she’d seen before. It touched her heart. Although, Jellal didn’t know that until much later; it was then he won the Time Witch over. She pretended, however, she had seen nothing, unwilling to embarrass either party with her observation.

Guilty, the next day, he confessed to Ultear. He expected to be berated or scolded. Taking a pre-teen girl into his bed? What sort of man was he? Instead, the woman laughed at his hangdog expression and remarked if that’s what it took to keep both of them happy while she was gone, she didn’t mind; she trusted him to do what was best in her absence. He was humbled by her faith, and took it to heart, since she was the girl’s protector and teacher. If she felt that Jellal was doing something good, he would take that trust and treasure it. He would also become the girl’s protector and teacher, the best that he could anyway.

It was after that he noticed her trailing around after him, watching him training and leaving little gifts for him to find. Sometimes it would be a feather, sometimes a shiny rock. They were always conspicuously placed just so he would find them, so there was no doubt where they came from. But she still wouldn’t speak to him, just silently watch; and he’d yet to coax a smile out of her either.

Every so often, when he trained, he would catch her mimicking him. It took a quick eye to catch her though, since she seemed to sense when she drew his attention and paused. But the moment it drifted off, she would be right back at it. Avidly, she would watch his motions, greedily tracing the path his body took to express the fighting move he was practicing. Once she had seen it enough, she would clumsily attempt it on her own. The few times he caught her, she was having trouble. While a good mimic, he was performing moves that were far beyond the level of a twelve year old girl.

Rather than approach her about it, having learned the fastest way to startle her was to confront her, he modified his routine. He started with simply and basic moves; they were child’s play to him, literally, but seeing her execute them nearly flawlessly made the extra few moments worthwhile. Watching her smash a dark wizard’s nose up into his face with the heel of her palm certainly encouraged him as well. Pride flooded him at that moment as she straightened up and finished her stance levelly as she’d be taught. Although, he wished he’d been the one to smash the man’s face – the man would not be rising ever again for the sin of touching her if he had done it. Fractured nose bones caused by blunt force trauma slammed up into the cranial cavity would do that… kill the victim, that is.

Hit like a girl was becoming his new favorite phrase.

Ultear was not nearly so thrilled.

'You need to teach her directly, if you insist on this. She needs to learn how not to hurt herself while fighting.’

This, of course, was prompted by a strained ankle and broken wrist from a failed attempt to copy a move he’d been teaching her. The girl had lost her footing and tumbled down an embankment. She was shaken but fine, determined to keep improving.

Since it was Ultear’s command, they both worked together to fulfill it. She improved, and so did their relationship. She’d pointed out beautiful birds and talked about her day, chattering about things that seemed meaningless to him, but to her were incredibly important. He listened patiently, wondrously, to her babbling, unable to believe this was the silent wraith of a child from mere months before.

It was another year before he saw her smile at him.

He’d seen her smile before, of course. At Ultear. At wild bunnies nestled under the bushes, frozen with fear. At flowers and ice cream and various other objects. But her smile eluded him.

Brush in hand, she approached him and silently held it out, biting her lip, hard. Sometimes, when she was forced to ask favors or approach him directly, she lost her voice like when they had first met. Her beautiful pink hair had been growing out and now hung down in thick waves past her shoulders. It was a misery to Ultear, but Meredy insisted she wanted it long because she was a young woman, and young women had long hair, not short or choppy boy cuts. Today, it seemed, Ultear was done with the mess all together. Hence, the brush offering.

Tentatively, Jellal picked it up, feeling the smooth wood press against his palm and curling his fingers around it lightly. Gingerly, he dragged it through the thick snarls, gently teasing and working his fingers through the knots that seemed to multiple like dark guilds overnight. Her hair was silky and bedazzling, unlike his own unruly, shaggy, blue locks. She sat in front of him, rigid and stock-still, patiently waiting for him to finish. It took twice as long as it took Ultear. A few quick swipes and tying up the ponytail, he stood back to survey his handiwork. It was utterly dismal. The ponytail was lopsided and drooped. Tufts of hair stood out from the sides of her face and strands hung in her eyes. Still, she solemnly turned to him and gave a smile that lit up her entire face when she saw herself in the mirror.

From then on, he was the preferred hairdresser, and he did eventually get quite good at it. Nails, on the other hand, he never got the hang of.

It wasn’t until a year later he saw that familiar panic resurface that tore into his heart so deeply. Ultear, predictably, was away. If he didn’t know better, he’d think she did it on purpose, just to torment him. But as she’d said many times before, she controlled the flow of time, not the flow of the future. She knew no more of what tomorrow held than anyone else.

'Jellal, I’m bleeding!’ The poor girl was near tears, sending him into a mini-heart attack of his own. They hadn’t been in any fights recently and there was nothing in the area that could hurt her. She hadn’t had any self-inflicted training wounds for months. She shouldn’t be bleeding; she’d be fine earlier that morning, just feeling a little ill with an upset stomachache type pain.

'What? Where are you bleeding, Meredy?’ He questioned, eyes roving over her for gushing, bloody wounds.

She looked down.

'You have to tell me where…’ he trailed off as he followed her gaze into her lap, making the connection, albeit slower than he would have liked.

Curse Ultear’s lack of attentiveness to such things!

Near hysterical in relief and embarrassment, and glad she wasn’t truly hurt, he found some old cloth and fashioned it into something serviceable for the task. Keeping his voice level, so as not to scare her more, he did his best to explain something he really knew nothing about. It was vague and pathetic, but she trusted him, and his words soothed her. Upon Ultear’s return, things were more explicitly explained, much to Jellal’s mortification, and he much preferred his sanitized version.

It as the year after that he became aware that she had a crush on him. Doing some quick mental math, he realized that, indeed, she was of an age for that sort of behavior. Logically, he was the only male around, and her senior as well. An older male who she loved and respected – it was probably inevitable. Ultear found it cute, but he noted that she wasn’t making any crude jokes about sharing their bed. He could read between her subtle lines; it was time to resolve this.

He was more careful about his state of dress, his touches, his words. The easy relationship they’d built was slowly crumbling away with forced neglect. She often stared at him, wordless, as she used to do, clearly dejected and confused. He was also confused and gloomy, missing her happy conversations and their hair sessions.

Ultear was the first to suggest a solution, watching the two as she often did, 'Take her on a date.’

At first, he was horrified. Wouldn’t that just feed the problem?

'Take her on a date, and show her how a date should go. Treat her like you’d want your daughter to be treated by her boyfriend. Be a role model.’

Surprisingly, it worked. While she embraced their new closeness, the crush seemed to fade over time, leaving their shared dates a much treasured habit. But he made sure to instill a measure of respect into their dates, each and every one, long after the crush had faded. He listened carefully, looked her in the eyes, paid the bill and made her feel mature, like a lady. It was their shared time away from Ultear; something he’d never dreamed of years before when he wanted just a sliver of her attention.

But it also made him realize she was growing up, physically and emotionally. Self-doubt and self-torture surfaced, as she often lamented about her appearance. It was either her hair, her body, her eyes, her personality or anything else about herself she could find to criticize. Ultear merely brushed her complaints aside, assuring her that she was none of the things she thought she was and giving her a hug or shoulder to cry on when it got particularly bad. Jellal felt helpless. And when he turned to Ultear, she simply told him it was something all girls had to work through to become women; there was nothing he could do to stop it. He had no idea. Was this truly some rite of passage? If he couldn’t stop it, surely he could ease it.

Somehow.

He started dropping compliments. Not about her bust size or her hair but about her loyalty, about her cheerfulness, about her heart. About all the things that were at her core, that he loved and admired about her. They were sincere and sparse, timed just so. At first she was resistant, insisting he was making it up to appease her, but soon she started to appreciate them. The glow she had made him pleased she considered herself to be more than just a pretty face or a nice body, although, in his opinion she was both. This was merely an enhancement of the beauty she had inside however.

That was the first time he got a thank you. Such words were not generally traded among them, even between Meredy and Ultear or Ultear and Jellal. Not in that capacity, at least. It was assumed that it was their duty to uphold each other, support each other, with no thanks expected or needed.

Those two words were the sweetest sound he’d heard since his imprisonment. It was the year after that they lost Ultear. His sixth year in the guild, his sixth year of having the pleasure of knowing Meredy.

It haunted him, the what ifs. Erza’s return, Ultear’s grace, Ultear’s sacrifice, Erza’s defense… it was all muddled up in his head. So many things could have gone differently. He was hurt and depressed; the only thing holding him together was the precious girl who was suddenly his lifeline. All of his investments came back ten thousand fold, when she showed her core, her fighting grit, her feminine side and her feelings. She was hurting too, lost and terrified inside, but she put on a brave front. For him.

But at the same time, he realized she had become her own person. An unintended side effect of Ultear’s disappearance, to be sure, but one that was happening right before his eyes. She held and fought for her opinions, stepping up to balance him with her cleverness and astuteness. She worried over him and fussed over him. Their dates continued, of course, but the topics of discussion shifted drastically towards strategies, politics and boys.

He would lose her too, someday. To another man. At first it was a troubling thought, entrusting her safety and happiness to another. Allowing another to receive her beautiful smile and supportive words. It brought him back to her crush stage, where she insisted that when she got older, they were going to get married.

Slowly, it came to him that she would look for him in a partner. The notion was absolutely terrifying. How could anyone like him be for her? Since he couldn’t trust in himself-he just couldn’t bring himself to do it- he would have to trust in her. She had grown into a strong, capable young woman who was a far cry from the lost, lonely soul of six years before.

Jellal never thought he’d become a father at the age of twenty. It was one thing he couldn’t regret, the one thing in his dark life that needed no atonement.