#and it is so. fucking. funny. that they swerve past miles for each other like that.

[rappaccini]

rereading spider-geddon #5 to see if margo has any lines (she does not😔) and... yeah. to get it out of the way the sv writers absolutely read this for atsv insp because it's where the miles->gwen<-->hobie love triangle comes from, and also where margo first appears....

i fucking forgot this is the event where miles keeps making heart eyes at gwen like he's the protagonist of his own soap opera. and the whole time gwen is just like 'k. anyway. the mission--'

he lets out a melodramatic ~nOoOo~ when she 'dies.' he says some cheesy shit about her being a ghost. he starts swinging when otto says they need to keep focus.

i should mention that hobie appears to be callous about her 'death' too.

because when gwen turns up with reinforcements and miles is possessed by the poltergeist of sitting in a tree again...

... hobie instantly kills the vibe by blasting past him to hug her.

which, 1) hobie does care! he cares a ton! he's just pragmatic. and he was right! she did want them to keep moving.

2) this is so fucking funny. miles it's been three years since you two last spoke, you can't even drive yet and she's a felon and a college dropout, get over it she's not into you. 3) .... yet she's responsive to hobie? 👀

(... also interesting that atsv took this story beat: a moment where a person in the love triangle appears to die, someone else flips out over it, the death is revealed to be a fakeout, and one side of the love triangle gets a shippy moment where someone's relieved the not-dead-person is okay. only in atsv, miles is the one with the death fakeout, gwen panics, and they get a moment after he makes it out... and here, gwen is the one who nearly dies, miles panics... and gwen and hobie get the shippy moment. damn gwiles really don't have shit do they. damn near every single meaningful moment is a ripoff of another relationship one of them has with someone else.)

also. spider-gwen: ghost spider #4 takes place DURING this issue. never actually read them like that before, and man.

the implication that gwen and hobie stayed together during the fighting the entire time, and even during the funeral.

the parallels in hobie leading the funeral and gwen spreading the news to the bereaved.

and then. when they're saying their goodbyes, miles give her another Look.

and gwen swerves him for hobie. it happens again!

the finger guns. the shoulder touch. gwen confiding in him about the alternate world she fell into and what happened to her there (aka gwen telling hobie about the gwen/mj dimension aka the first person gwen voluntarily comes out as queer to to is hobie). the promise to be there for each other when they need help or emotional support and find some time to play music/just have fun together again. how sad she gets when he leaves.

i am so mad they never follow up on this.

… kinda hate that the sv writers def read this and somehow concluded that gwiles was the romance and hobie was friendzoned, when it could only be more the reverse if gwen and hobie made out on panel.

[destinyesque]

Roads

by Sam Lastname

Cassandra crashed our car in Kansas, a few miles down the road from the World's Largest Ball of Twine. She said it was an accident. I'm not convinced she didn't do it on purpose. I suppose how it happened doesn't really matter.

We ended up on the side of the road, the car miraculously right-side-up after it had swerved past the shoulder and rolled end-over-end once before settling. Neither of us had cell phones on us, and neither of us were in any condition to go seeking out the nearest gas station to call nine-one-one; someone else would do it for us eventually, anyway.

Cassandra was barely hurt at all, and I had hit my head on the dash only hard enough to make my brain jitter. I think I blacked out for a while, and the first thing I remember after the crash was her laughter filling the car like carbonated bubbles. On either side, the car doors had been dented, our little metal hovel almost destroyed in a single soda-can crunch. It was kind of funny, really. Or maybe that was the concussion talking.

I asked her how the hell she'd managed to fuck up highway driving on a mostly empty road with a mostly new sedan. She smiled at me and shrugged, and I remember thinking I wanted to kiss her. She'd been distracted, she said. She had drifted out of her lane and could do little more than panic. As if. She had years of driving experience under her belt, and I’m sure she could’ve driven these roads with her eyes closed and one hand behind her back.

At least it was like an adventure, she'd said. In the middle of our bleak, endless lives, a burst of sound and color, like a fuse lit too close to a firecracker—painful, but exhilarating. We could look back on the story fondly, maybe. Get some laughs at a party. She was wearing that kind of lopsided smile that I see in my head whenever I think of her. I remember agreeing with everything she'd said, out of disorientation if not understanding.

She kept on talking despite a busted lip, and it was probably the concussion that made me unclick my own seatbelt and lean over the center console and unclick her seatbelt too, even though it took a few tries, and it was probably the concussion that made me ask her, "can I kiss you?" and it was surely shock that made her say "yes" and put her hands on my cheeks and pull me in, and it might have been adrenaline that had us tilting back her seat and I wouldn’t have recognized the man who wasn't even embarrassed when the EMTs found him leaning over her, half in her lap, blood on both our lips, but it was definitely Cassandra that laughed and told them to fuck off before letting them wrangle her into the ambulance and drive us to the hospital.

Yeah, she said when we were both laid up in hospital beds, waiting on nightfall. Yeah, this is a pretty good story. One for the ages. (I remembered that part, "for the ages", because it was such an odd, so-very-Cassandra thing to say.)

I think both of us were loopy from medication because we weren't even really bothered by the knowledge that we'd be in completely different cities in the morning, and that we wouldn't see each other for months, probably. That neither of us would be telling anyone stories anytime soon. Or, maybe she would, but no one would remember her. Or me. Either of us.

 Here's how this whole thing worked: I awoke in a hotel bed in a highway town, the quiet hum of wheels-on-asphalt in my ears. I checked the time, opened the window. Unless there was snow outside, I had no idea where I was. I walked to the diner (there was always a diner—this is America, after all). The menu was usually the same, and I usually ordered the same thing: two pancakes, two eggs, and just water, please. The waiters were different in each town—I hardly ever talked to them, but it was nice anyway. I didn’t bother remembering their faces, because I'd be hundreds of miles away tomorrow morning. I ate. I paid with the money in my pants pocket (always seventeen dollars, every day). I left. I took a walk, just to see if there was anything interesting nearby. There usually wasn’t, of course, but it didn’t hurt to try. At the very least, I could find a corner store or a gas station. I'd buy dinner there later. I spent the day in the hotel room or outside, by a Wendy's parking lot. Usually, I just read, if I could find a book anywhere. I got real familiar with hotel Bibles; it’s not as if I had anything better to do. I ate dinner and went to sleep. Every night, at exactly midnight, I would be flung into a new town, an identical hotel room. Whether or not I had been asleep by then, I wouldn’t remember anything else until I woke up the next morning to repeat everything the next day in a different state. I lived an odd sort of Groundhog Day. So it goes, or whatever.

 Cassandra and I met in Tennessee. Or, she’d seen me in Kansas weeks earlier and we introduced ourselves in Tennessee. I was eating breakfast at a diner, same as every other day in every other town. She sat right down in the chair across from me—this plain, gangly girl with dark hair thick enough to be called a mane—and said she saw me the day I woke up in a tiny town called Grainfield. She couldn't have, because I didn't know anyone. She insisted, though, and even though I left her alone in the diner that day, chewing on strips of bacon she had stolen from my plate, I remembered her face.

 It was three months before I saw her again, in Ohio this time. I was sitting on a bench outside that day's hotel, reading a trashy thriller, when she stepped out of the lobby, stretching her arms so that a tiny strip of skin peeked out from under her shirt. Her hair was shorter. It took me a moment to place her in my memory, the handful of sentences we’d exchanged bubbling to the surface. Before I could say anything, she caught my eye. Her face turned real smug, and I got an earful of I-told-you-so until she ran out of steam. We walked to the only restaurant that wasn't a chain and sat down in booths in the back. Neither of us trusted the other quite yet, but I didn't have anything to hide and she was content to tell me the basics.

Turned out, we were in similar situations. Different towns, different states, different hotel rooms, same problem. For her, it had been six months. She remembered what it was like before this life in a way that I didn't. She said she was going to get out. I remember laughing her off, and then hardly believing my ears when I realized she was serious.

She took me to the library, where she looked up curses and wormholes and maps of the country, like she could find some explanation for this endless loop. She wanted me to help, but I didn’t know how any of it was supposed to help either of us. Still, she was determined. I dozed off in an armchair for most of the day, and she put fruitless work into research. She’d learn, eventually, I figured.

The whole time, she talked to me about all her plans, what she’d been doing—because of the nature of this whole thing, she couldn’t keep books or notes or anything. They were just gone the next day, and we were left with the same items we started with that morning. Cassandra said she had a good memory, though, and it was almost impressive. She remembered all sorts of things from books she'd read before, like the names of demons used in medieval curses and the equations for how light bends around a heavy enough object. When the library closed at nine, Cassandra had twenty pages of notes on all sorts of things, and I was almost convinced they could be useful. Almost.

We walked back to the hotel and put up in her room for the night. Cassandra got to memorizing all the information on the pages and I turned on whatever bad TV was playing. I think I fell asleep, because I don't remember much of anything after the first episode of House Hunters.

I woke up in another hotel bedroom, a few states away, more afraid than I could remember being in a long time. I could do little more than hopelessly hope that Cassandra would get out, get what she wanted.

 I used to worry that no one would remember me. I didn't really remember anyone, and Cassandra hadn't always been around. I remembered the tar-black road and I remembered a whole lot of towns that blurred together into one, and I remembered ground and sky that met together in a straight line in the middle. Living like this felt a whole lot like shining a lantern in the dark, because I could see where I was, right here, and I could see a few feet behind me and a few feet ahead, but I couldn't situate any of it within a larger whole. I didn’t know much about the before. I thought I had a sibling, maybe. Younger. And parents, maybe friends. There wasn’t a lot more than that. I might’ve been forgetting more and more as time went on, but, hell, I couldn’t even remember enough to know if that was true. Soon, I was sure I’d be left with just this. Just, you know, asphalt.

People don't realize just how much of this country is flat. All the land west of the Appalachians and east of the Rockies is empty brown field, like God drew the highways in but forgot to furnish the rest. As far as I'm concerned, the only difference between Iowa and Arkansas is temperature. Most of the people—most of the culture in this country is concentrated on either coast, so much so that they forget there's anything at all between New York and California. Flat, empty America is most of America, at least by landmass. And even where the smooth skin of this that land is marred with mountains and valleys, I could always count on the highways being the same.

 I tried to kill myself in Arizona, once. This was a few years ago, I think, but things sort of got fuzzy at the edges after so much time within same-y hotel walls drenched in cigarette smoke and dirty linoleum tile and black ribbon roads. I was alone, and I didn't remember very much in either direction. I don't know if the problem was me or if it was the country. Probably a bit of both.

However it was, I'd had enough. I woke up in a desert town with the same fast-food places and chain motels and tired old roads as in Minnesota. If I saw another day scarred with all the cursed things that I already knew too well, I thought I wouldn't be able to take it.

There was a pharmacy a bit away from the hotel I woke up in. The lights buzzed in the ceiling when I walked in, and one of the employees told me to let them know if I needed any help. I won't explain the irony.

In the end, I bought a few bottles of painkillers and an orange soda. The cashier must have asked if I was alright, because I remember reassuring her that my sister was having cramps, and I remember her saying the soda would only make the imaginary sister feel worse. One of us laughed when I said the soda was for me, not her. She wished me well and I didn't think about anything else until I was back in my hotel bed, leaning against the headboard like an invalid.

I took the pills one-by-one and washed them down with the soda. Not much of that night is clear anymore. I felt bad, and everything was blurry, and I threw up in the toilet a few times. None of it was worth it, because I was still there, obviously, and this damn country didn't let me out of its grip. I don’t even know if death would’ve freed me, or if the afterlife is the same as this. An endless road, a journey that leads nowhere.

I woke up in another hotel bedroom, in Iowa this time, completely fine and unfortunately alive.  

 I tried to kill myself in Iowa, once. Then in Nevada. Then Alabama, Wisconsin, Illinois. I thought killing myself would be the hardest thing I’d ever do, but eventually the reality of everything sort of crystalized, and I began to understand that the hardest thing was to know I was alive, and to know I couldn't do anything about it.

 I’ve heard that all horror boils down to fear of the unknown. I don’t think that’s right. There was a sort of horror in familiarity, too. Because I lived out every day in a town I've never been to before and that I'd never return to again, to the point where each new town was as familiar as the last. I'd been all around, but things didn’t change a whole lot. Certain buildings just got copied over in every state, every town. Gas stations, fast food joints, and hotels were the big ones, but every diner was just about the same, and the houses were all built with identical DNA, and the roads were all shaped by the same hand of God. There was a sort of horror in knowing you could travel as far as you wanted, but you'd never escape all the things that framed your life. I wondered, sometimes, if there were other copies of me, scattered around like everything else; maybe a few details changed, but the same at their core. I didn't know if that scared me or comforted me.

 The second time I saw Cassandra, we had both ended up in a log cabin motel to one side of Route 41, a half-hour walk to Calumet, Michigan—quaint in comparison to the endless Motel 6’s and Holiday Inns. We were the only ones there, since I guess the owners closed down for the off-season. It was mid-autumn at that point. Not quite time for skiing, but not warm enough to otherwise justify visiting the Upper Peninsula.

The whole motel was dark and cold. I woke up around dawn, shivering, and tried to go back to sleep, but eventually I had to give in to the temperature and look around for more blankets or something.

I got up with the comforter around my shoulders, flicked the light switch on and off a few times to no effect, and wandered to the tiny hotel common room, which seemed to already be occupied by one Cassandra, cuddled up in blankets filched from a linen closet. She had a weak fire going in the fireplace already, an armchair pulled up as close as she could get, and an old book in hand, already halfway read. I called her name and she startled to life, swearing like a sailor. I think I laughed. She scolded me, sniffled, and huddled back into her seat.

Fancy seeing you here, I said, to what do I owe the pleasure?

She smacked me with her book. Things were the same as before, she told me, and she hadn’t had any luck with her escape plot (Yet. She was adamant that ‘yet’ was the operative word here). Still, she had an idea. Maybe, maybe if she drove far enough west, hit the coast, the edge of the world, maybe then she could break free. Maybe braving the road, all the way to the end, was the only way out. I believed her.

Not today though, she said. She had spent the last couple weeks up north for the most part, probably caught a cold at some point. If there had been a car in the deserted lot out front, she wouldn’t have felt up to driving anyway, especially not in this weather. Even now, a light snow drifted outside the window. Usually, they’re pretty good about plowing the roads this far north, but it couldn’t hurt to be safe.

Cassandra wasn’t feeling up to finding food, content to hang out in her blanket nest as long as the cold (both the sickness and the temperature) remained. I scrounged up some canned soup and instant coffee from a break room of sorts, found a deck of beat-up cards too. The plumbing seemed to be out, but between all ten-ish bathrooms in the place, I got enough water for a few cups of coffee. Couldn’t figure out how to turn on the power, though. Apologized to Cassandra for that. She teased me about it, I remember. Said I must not have been an engineer before I got stuck in the loop. I didn’t remember what I was before this whole thing; now that she brought it up, it bothered me in a way it hadn’t since… long enough ago that I didn’t remember that part, either.

The only card games either of us knew were Blackjack and Go Fish, but we made the best of it. The soup helped, too. As the day ticked into mid-afternoon, the snow only got thicker, and Cassandra and I got to talking. She had graduated college about a year ago, one of the state schools on the east coast, with a degree in mathematics. She loved embroidery, her family had a pet cat named Sourdough (because he looked like a loaf of bread), and her two twin sisters were about to enter undergrad. She grew up in a suburb, but she left because there was nothing to do there. Ended up driving west on her own, road-tripping to “find herself or whatever” (the derision is all hers). Got stuck in a dead-end highway town a week in, and it had been like this since.

I think she was expecting me to give her my own story, leaving home and finding myself out here in desolate middle-America, but my story didn’t extend much outside a couple weeks of same-old, same-old memories and a handful of moments that broke the years-long monotony, one of which she already knew, because she’d been part of it—it isn’t often that you meet a fellow victim of the American backroads. At least, not a victim in this particular way.

 (I didn’t it then, but I thought I had a sister.

 I thought I had loved someone, once.

 But I wasn’t even sure of that.)

 I think she was sorry for me. Even though she was stuck in the same goddamn situation, the same goddamn highway towns every day, she still had it in her to feel pity. I guess she thought I was further gone even than she was. Which was probably true. I was forgetting more and more every day, the lights illuminating my past and future flicking out and dark nothing approaching on either side. She said she’d been forgetting things too, but not nearly as much. It scared me. I remembered a time before her, but I still couldn’t imagine a time after her, if I forgot her, too.

She must have noticed I was afraid, because she put her hand on my arm and reassured me that we’d meet again. When you wake up tomorrow, drive to Beloit, Kansas, she said. It was pretty damn close to the center of the country. No matter where we ended up, that would be our best shot to find each other before we were disappeared away to the next town, she said. We would be alright, she said.

 The next morning, I carjacked a pickup in Kentucky and overheated the engine trying to reach Beloit. I didn’t make it, but I kept trying. Some days, I’d start close enough to get there, but she wouldn’t. Some days, it was the opposite. Still, every now and again, both of us made it. Cassandra still wanted to hit the west coast eventually, but Beloit was nearly a full day’s drive away from any kind of ocean. Mostly, when we were together, we kind of just hung out, got food, tried to figure out what there was to do in a town of less than three thousand. It was one of those days, after we visited the World’s Largest Ball of Twine, that Cassandra flipped the car over on the highway. I liked those days. I was the closest I’d ever been to being happy that I could remember. Beloit didn’t change everything. Both of us were still mostly stuck in middle-America hotel purgatory. Most days, I still didn’t want to do much more than lay down and die, and I was still forgetting things. Cassandra had to remind me several times about how we first met. But if nothing else, it was an improvement.

 I was in New Mexico, before I met Cassandra, at another one of those lonely hotels. The empty ones, with a few cars inexplicably out front. There wasn't much of anything else for miles, so I took one of the cars and picked a direction. This was a long time ago. I think I was still trying to get out of the loop back then, but the memory has faded edges, so I don't know for sure. I remember turning onto the highway around nine in the morning and thinking that I wouldn't turn off until the car stalled out or I drove off the end of the earth. I didn't see much of anything the whole time I was on the road. Just one long line of asphalt, threading beneath my car like God was pulling it past me from the other end. I remember the sky was big and blue and everything beneath it glowed orange with the sunlight, as if in protest.

I made a game of counting cars, but I only got to ten or so before several hours had passed and I realized that I wasn't getting anywhere. Maybe the road had stretched out beneath my tires, so that every mile on the speedometer was really only an inch. Or maybe I was moving at seventy miles per hour, but the land was just a lot bigger than I had imagined. Like I said, people forget how much of this country is flat.

I kept going and going, and every hour or so, I'd drive past an exit sign advertising a gas station, or a fast-food brand "only 0.2 miles on the next right!" but I didn't stop for anything. I didn't eat, didn't drink, and the fuel tank never went below half-full. All I could do was keep mindlessly driving onward, so I didn't do anything but.

I watched the big blue sky turn pink and orange and red, and then deep blue and black and speckled with stars just as cold as the couple other headlights I passed. The car's dashboard clock was off by a few hours at least, so I didn't know what time it was except by guessing. I kept going in the dark, without streetlights or anything. Eventually, I flicked off my headlights and just kept going straight. Not out of confidence or anything. I guess I just did it because I was bored. Maybe I thought I could hide from my affliction. I don't know. With the dark and the hum of the engine and gentle jitter of the suspension, it was almost peaceful. I took my hands off the wheel. The car might have veered off the road, tires bumping over sand and dirt rather than asphalt. It was hard to tell the difference. Either way, that was probably the furthest I got from the highway in a long time. I still woke up the next morning in a neat, white-sheet hotel bed.

  The last time I met Cassandra, we were in Montana. It was winter, and rubber-stained snow was piled in dunes on either side of the road. I hadn’t even started in the same town as her that morning. She drove in with a car I didn't recognize and we stumbled across each other in a gas station. She was counting out singles to figure out how to pay for both gas and a drink, and I was wandering the town looking for something better to eat than chips and gum. Neither endeavor was going particularly well, so I remember she lit up when she saw me out of the corner of her eye as I pushed through the front door.

Her eyes were red and her hair was out of sorts, but her cold-cracked grin was bright as ever. Or maybe I was just imagining that part. I lent her some of my cash to pay for everything and then some.

As it turned out, she had picked up an SUV that morning and was beelining her way west. She wanted to hit the coast before midnight, she said, if she didn't spin out on the icy roads first. It wasn't even a question that I was going to climb into her passenger seat and ride along with her.

We had just made it out of Idaho by the time it started to get dark. It was just after five, according to the clock in the car—winter this far north was like that. Cassandra more-or-less had the major American highways memorized, but she still had me navigate with a huge fold-out map we bought in Spokane.

We stopped at a McDonald’s drive-thru for dinner and Cassandra moved to the passenger side. She didn’t like driving in the dark much, but I didn’t mind it. She was supposed to be navigating, but she fell asleep not twenty minutes after we got going again. It was the kind of sleep that isn’t quite ‘sleep’, per se, but more a fitful doze. She kept humming unhappily and shifting around. At one point, her head slipped out of her hand and hit the window with a solid crack. She groaned and blinked blearily. When I asked if she was okay, she didn’t answer and just went back to sleep. I kept my eyes on the road, but it was hard not to look at Cassandra, at least a little. In the daylight, she had seemed the same as she always was; stubborn, determined, bright. But in the growing dark, the shadows on her face illuminated an exhaustion I hadn’t noticed. It was like gazing into a mirror. She looked like me. Hollow. Tired. If this wasn’t her last shot at freedom, she was at least pretty close to hitting her limit. I didn’t wake her, but I didn’t stop, either.

The coast came up suddenly. It was dark. There weren’t any sea birds still around this deep into winter. The burning cold far overwhelmed the saltwater smell. By the time I had left the highway and hit the end of a tiny beach road, our clock showed eleven thirty-eight. We had made it.

Cassandra woke up as soon as I parked, staring blankly at the rolling waves some fifty feet ahead of us. She didn’t say anything, just pushed open her door and stepped into the sand and the biting wind. I followed.

Without streetlights or electric anything nearby, I could hardly see anything, but the steady murmur of the waves was more than enough to guide me. Ahead of me, Cassandra stopped. Took her boots off. Dug her feet into the sand just before the edge of the water. She looked at me and I looked back. Breathed in deep. Held it. I took her hand.

In step, we walked into the ocean, cold wind and cold water gnawing at our skin.

Well, we’re here, she said. I nodded.

Thank you, I said.

It’s late, she said.

I know, I said.

One way or another, she said, I’m not going back.

Good, I said. Me neither.

In the water, my legs began to sting. The cold and the dark worked their way through my clothes and into my skin. Minutes ticked on. I don’t know how many. Eventually, we came out of the water, put our boots back on, and watched the clouds skitter across a half-full moon.

[bamfdaddio]

X-Men Abridged: 1981 - the Body-Swap

The X-Men, those body-swapping mutants that have sworn to protect a world that hates and fears them, are a cultural juggernaut with a long, tangled history. We’ve been untangling that history for a while, but sometimes, you really want a more in-depth look. Interested? Then read the (un)Abridged X-Men!

(Uncanny X-Men 151 - 152) - by Chris Claremont and Josef Rubinstein

Emma Frost and her frenemy Ororo Munroe have not been getting along! One fateful evening, as the two quibble away, they mysteriously switch bodies and minds. Talk about your Freaky Friday! What lessons will they learn, walking a mile in one another’s shoes? And will they be able to switch back, or will they stay in each other’s bodies forever? Mutant Monday, coming soon to a cinema near you. Starring: Elizabeth Banks, Angela Bassett and Elliot Page. (PG-13)

For a moment, we’re in a proper period drama: a letter delivers ill tidings!

I love that Kitty’s parents are so self-involved that it took them A WHOLE YEAR to realize that it’s weird that Kitty is the only non-adult attending the Xavier Institute.

I can only assume the mailman interrupted a pool party of some kind? Or a communal shower? I get why Kurt would not swim a lot - all that fur - but did Scott wear that while they were splashing around? Was it a beach volleyball competition where one half got to wear swimsuits and the other half superhero costumes? Most importantly, was Scott’s costume always this tight?

Not that I’m complaining, mind you.

The awful thing is that Kitty’s parents are transferring her to the Massachusetts Academy, not realizing that headmistress Emma Frost is, in fact, a terrible human being. Charles, uncharacteristically, says that changing their minds telepathically is a line he does not cross (any more) and half the viewing audience bursts out in laughter. More importantly, last they saw Emma, she was kind of dead-by-Phoenix, so it might be better there this time? Kitty does a Classic Teenage Stomp-Off and Storm comes to comfort her. Kitty cries that life is unfair (“My parents are only doing this because they’re splitting up”) and Ororo tells her that yes, life is unfair. You just gotta roll with the punches as best you can.

To be fair, bald men are technically all cheek, so it doesn’t matter where you kiss them.

While I enjoy the relationship Kitty has with the other X-Men (Scott gave her a compliment! Logan told her his name!), especially the mother-daughter-bond she shares with Ororo, the whole Piotr-thing always gives me pause. Even if we’re being very generous with age, Kitty is, what? 14 going on 15? And Piotr is… 19? At best? I get why Kitty would have a crush on him: he’s a gentle hunky giant: at fifteen, my teenage ass would have felt the exact same viz-a-viz Colossus’ upper arms. The fact that Piotr reciprocates feels skeevy, though, especially because they’re always treated like star-crossed idiots these days.

Skee-vy.

Ororo drives Kitty to Massachusetts, where her young ward is greeted by someone named Muffy and whisked away for orientation. All seems well. Ororo stands in a parlour, surveying the grounds and considering that they should have fought harder for Kitty. Still, nothing seems too wrong just yet: this Academy just seems very preppy.

Not-at-all-dead Emma takes her cue and jumps out, saying (essentially): “Surprise motherfucker.”

There’s a flash of light, and then...

I’m willing to bet that Emma’s EVIL journal has the following to-do-list: - Steal Storm’s body. - Experiment with her powers. - See how good Storm looks in white. (Leather? Fur?! Both!??) - REWARD: Smoke break.

I wonder if Emma’s plan hinged on being able to body-swap with Storm, or whether any X-Man would have sufficed. Was her original target Xavier? Cyclops? What if one of Kitty’s parents had brought her to Massachusetts, would she have taken Kitty instead?

In a locked cell, Storm wakes up in Emma’s body and is horrified. I wonder why Emma didn’t take any more precautions. Couldn’t the guy who made the freaky friday-gizmo also make a power dampener to nullify not!Emma’s telepathic abilities? Or did Emma count on her victim being so utterly incapacitated by her mind-powers that they’d be driven mad? (This would actually tie in with some of Emma’s later-revealed history: when her powers first emerged, she also got locked away in a padded room because of her madness.)

Emma is not wrong, by the way: Storm can’t get a handle on Emma’s powers. What follows is possibly the sweetest moment in an arc filled with sweet moments:

This arc isn’t drawn by any of the regulars - not Byrne, not Cockrum - but Josef Rubinstein brings his own kind of panache to the pages. I love the way he draws women’s faces: in a story that’s all about women, their faces are actually distinguishable. Kudoz.

Emma, meanwhile, coordinates with Sebastian Shaw to execute the second part of their two-pronged attack on the X-Men. They both laugh evilly in their phones while the mansion is attacked by Sentinels! These androids take out Cyclops and Xavier with some sleeping gas and knock out Nightcrawler, but the rest of the X-Men manage to trounce these robots. Then ‘Storm’ appears! She zaps the rest of the X-Men (and Amanda Sefton), successfully finishing their master-plan.

It’s not entirely clear what the Hellfire Club wants with the X-Men this time, but I’m assuming it’s more experimentation to improve the sentinels? Eh, doesn’t matter! Nefarious Hellfire Club is nefarious.

The real Storm, meanwhile, comes to claim Kitty, forgetting that she looks like the one and only Emma Frost. Kitty spooks and Storm accidentally reaches out, knocking her out telepathically. Whoops! Storm takes Kitty and flees in a car, while Emma gives chase. (How dare Ororo run off with her body, which is absolutely the kind of hypocritical hilariousness we all love Emma for.)

Kitty awakens and jumps from the car, causing Storm to swerve and...

JETSTREAM!? Speaking of which, where are the Hellions in all of this?

Kitty sees that an unconscious ‘Emma’ is about to burn to a tender and moist little crisp and she is faced with the hero’s dilemma: would you save a villain that would never save you?

Emma, meanwhile, has realized the downside to body-swapping: somebody else gets to run around with your body too. Shaw, of all people, talks her down from her anger.

You can’t just introduce a persona exchange gun to the plot WITHOUT EXPLAINING WHERE THE FUCK YOU GOT IT FROM.

My favorite detail is that Emma keeps calling Kitty brat, like she’s some sort of Pokémon-villain.

Kitty, meanwhile, has saved ‘Emma’ and tied her up with a special knot. Storm tries to convince Kitty, going for the “ask me something only Storm would know”, but Kitty’s all: “Duh, you’re a telepath.” Ororo insists, but the thing that clinches it is when she breaks free of her ties without breaking a sweat. That knot was taught to Kitty by Ororo and she’d be the only one who knew how to break out of it.

Storm and Kitty recruit Stevie Hunter to come pick them up and during the ride, Storm-being-angry-mother!Storm convinces Kitty more than anything else:

After all, Storm was voted most likely to say: “If you don’t stop this nonsense immediately, I will turn this Blackbird around, so help me God!”

Ororo and Kitty sneak inside. Ororo even uses Emma’s telepathy to help her pick a lock after phasing through a door. (Kind of funny: Kitty’s still such a neophyte that she can’t even phase with anyone else yet.) Emma, meanwhile, taunts the captured X-Men, presenting herself as the new white queen:

Anybody feel the inclination to point out that the Hellfire Club did this exact same thing last year, except then they tried it with a redhead?

I secretly suspect that the Hellfire Club’s plots always revolve around seducing X-Men to their side and dressing them up in sexy lingerie. (Which: fair.) There’s also a subplot where the guys Wolverine cut apart last year want to exact revenge on him for being made bionic, but eh. We’ll start paying attention to them when they become actual Reavers.

Kitty phases through the locks of the X-Men, freeing them, and a kerfuffle ensues. Emma starts using Storm’s powers, but they grow out of control. Colossus tosses Shaw out of the window - which should just be company policy, really: all Shaws should be defenestrated - where he’s promptly hit by a rogue thunderbolt.

When he doesn’t get up, Emma starts to lose it. The weather goes wild. Storm intervenes, using her telepathic power to help calm down Emma (and the raging storm), but she also manages to get a hold of the swap-gun. There’s a zap, and with a satisfied sigh, the status-quo is restored again.

My favorite implication is that, apparently, Emma decides which school Kitty attends and not her parents.

While this little arc is neither the most iconic nor the most profound of 1981 -- those would be Days of Future Past and I, Magneto, respectively -- I still love this for a couple of reasons.

As a lover of Freaky Friday, 17 Again and the new Jumanji-film, I just have a soft spot for body swap plots. (Hi Psylocke!)

It focuses on the Xavier Institute as a school, planting seeds for the upcoming New Mutants.

It is very female-driven without beating you over the head with it. (Looking at you, Birds of Prey.)

It has three definitive main characters, who all get fleshed out in fun and interesting ways. It starts the trend of robbing Ororo of some of her powers and tossing her into against-the-odds circumstances, only for her to come out on top.

It solidifies the Storm/Kitty mother/daughter (or older/younger sibling) dynamic. Kitty is a believable teenager when it comes to Storm - clever and kind, but also looking for answers and prone to rash decisions - and I love how much they care for each other.

Jean/Storm-friendship-callback, yay!

Emma gets fleshed out as a villain. Resourceful and petty, powerful and vain. It’s no wonder she’s one of the break-out antagonists of the X-Men, because, like Magneto, Claremont is not afraid of giving her depth. Arguably, she is the most three-dimensional of the Hellfire Club at this point.

Yay! And fuck completely sensible plots, if you don’t know what to do with your plot, just introduce a random persona exchange gun. Let’s use it on Xavier and Legion in Way of X next!

[jjmaybanksblog]

Stress Release- John B

(Not my gif, credit for whoever created it!)

Summary: Friends with benefits; Two friends who trust each other enough to engage in sexual activity without fear of hurting the other's feelings.

Word count: 1,912

Warnings: Mentions fwb, sex, and underage drinking.

You rested on your stomach, textbook in front of you as John B joined your side. You two had been chosen to be partners for a Chemistry class project, but neither of you two had actually paid enough attention to figure out what you two we're doing.

You guys sat in silence for a minute before you exhaled loudly. "What's with the sigh?" You ground loudly, flipping yourself over and laying on your back.

"It's my senior year. I should be out in the world not giving a single fuck about anything, but I'm stressed out of my mind and I have no clue how to get rid of it." You ranted, grabbing the nearest pillow and screaming into it. John B looked at you with a confused look. "What? I'm a screamer. Not sexually, just at life in general." "I can make that sexually." He said, earning a smack from the pillow.

"Therapy?" "Tried." "Painting?" "Tried." "Going to the gym?" "Ha! You're fucking funny." John B remained quiet for a second before coming up with something. "Have you tried just hooking up with someone? You know, like a friends with benefits type thing." 

Your head snapped up from it's spot as you stared at the boy with a dumbfounded look. "I'm sorry?" "Well it's just, if you need to release tension, shit like that helps a lot." John B said as he suddenly felt idiotic for bringing the idea up. You sat there for a moment, trying to process his words. "Okay but even if I wanted to I don't know who would even want to." 

John B's index finger pointed to his face as you observed his gesture. "Really?and why would you want to be friends with benefits?" "I get stressed too, I help you out, you help me out." You considered his offer for a moment before agreeing on his idea.

"Okay. But we have to make a guideline." You negotiated, ripping out a piece of paper from the notebook. Now it was John B's turn to roll his eyes. 

"First rule, we do not tell a single soul about this." You said, grabbing your pen and scribbling the words down. "Okay, okay. Second rule, we call each other whenever we need a release. Whenever and wherever." "No hooking up with anyone else unless either of us get

a boyfriend/girlfriend." He thought aloud.

You nodded your head, writing his words down quickly. "And the last one," you two looked at each other as you spoke in unison, "no feelings." You held the pen out towards him, giving you a questioning look. "What? We gotta make this shit official." 

John B let out a chuckle as he took the pen from your hand and scribbled his name. Returning the pen to you, he adjusted himself so he was resting against the headboard. You quickly signed it, closing the notebook shut.

John B sighed softly before looking at youm "You stressed?" You quickly rose up from your spot, your legs resting on both sides of him as you straddled his lap. "You have no idea." His hands trailed up your back, one hand staying on your thigh and gently rubbing it. The other was wrapped tightly around your waist.

Your lips met halfway, he sighed in relief at the feeling of someone else's lips. The kiss was fierce and rushed, both of you wasting no time in getting your stress out.

_________________

You guys had this 'relationship' going for the last 5 months. Almost every other day you called each other. It was an odd thing for you to do. You had done it before in the past, but sex with John B was something else. There were nights where the type would change, he would take control for most of the time. Angry sex, sex in the living room, car sex, anything he wanted to do, you two did.

However, as time went on the feelings John B had began to change. He wanted to spend more time with you, and not just hook up. He wanted to find out more things about you, watch movies with you, be able to kiss you in public whenever he wanted. The at first sloppy sex slowly morphed into passionate sex. He noticed and it scared him shitless. He loved every moment he spent with you and he didn't want that to change.

He was mad at himself. That was the third rule and he broke it. He never expected it to happen, but when it did it slapped him right across the face.

You two were lying there naked, sheets covering your bare chests. You were fast asleep, your body facing him. He took in the tiny details about you, everything that he could. How sometimes your eyelashes flutter. How you'll snore sometimes. How he rests his hand on your cheek and you unknowingly lean into his touch. He buried this hole too deep and he can't get out.

You both were currently at your friend Angela's party, drunk teens were horribly dancing in the living room, couples were hooking up in the bedrooms and bathrooms. John B was drinking a shot of vodka as he saw you walk by, a red plastic solo cup in your hand. "Hey Routledge!" You winked at the boy who shyly drank from his cup.

A classmate of his walked up to John B, "Hey, what's with you and that Y/L/N chick?" The boy asked, nudging John B's shoulders. He smirked at his classmate leaning closer to him, "we're friends with benefits!" John B exclaimed, clearly tipsy and not knowing the words that are spilling out of his mouth. 

The classmate smirked at the intoxicated teen, giving JB a high five, congratulating him. You were out in the backyard enjoying the night sky with Sarah Cameron.you two were laughing after watching someone run and fall into the pool.

The fun was quickly ruined as the classmate stood in front of you guys. "So Y/N, I heard you help release stress from my good old friend John B. How about you help me out?" Your face dropped in shock, the cup falling from your hand. "I'm sorry?" You asked, pretending not to understand what he was talking about.

"Oh yeah. But real shit, whenever I need something I'll give you a call." The boy sent you a wink before licking his lower lip and walking away. You stared at the ground in shock. "Are you okay?" "I don't know how to answer that." You admitted.

You stomped out of the backyard and out of the house. Stares, comments and giggles were all you noticed as you made your way through the crowded rooms. Making way to your car, you opened the door and slammed it shut. Your fists pounded down onto the steering wheel, accidentally punching the horn. You crossed your arms and leaned against the wheel. Your head fell against your arms as tears stung your eyes. You were furious at John B, but you were also angry with yourself. 

During the time you had been sleeping with John B, you also began to realize how your heart would race a mile a minute with him, even before the physical contact. You had been trying to deny the feelings, 'it's just sex' you repeated to yourself over and over after every session. But to you it was something else, and that scared you.

You sped down down the road, the lights blurring from the tears, your cheeks and nose a shade of pink. Your breathing was uneven as you hicupped every now and then. Returning home, you quickly changed out of your clothes into pajamas and laid in bed. That night was the last time you and John B had an interaction for a whole month.

He would call you, but you'd let the answering machine pick up. You'd swerve him when you walked by him in the halls, catching his eye then turning around to walk the other way. 

You wanted to distance yourself as much as you could. John B tried his best to apologize after his classmate reminded him that he told your secret that night at the party. He felt absolutely destroyed hearing the rumors that were spreading about you, about you both, he hated it.

Your eyes were sealed shut as you attempted to let sleep overtake your body. It was finally Friday and you just wanted to sleep for 12 hours. The sound of rain hitting your window sounded like heaven to your ears, just pure silence except for that one noise. 

A soft tapping sound echoed off the  window. Knowing it wasn't rain, you hesitantly opened your eyes to see John Booker Routledge holding himself as he stood in your backyard, in the pouring rain. His hair was plastered down onto his face. His clothes clung to his body. His eyes were squinted shut in hopes to not get too much water in them.

You quickly got up and pulled him through the window harshly, making him fall to the ground. His skin made a loud slapping noise as he made contact with the hardwood floor. You sighed, rubbing your forehead with the palm of your hand. "Hold on." You quickly went out of the room and walked back in with a towel. You handed it to him as you sat on the bad, John B standing there as he attempted to dry off.

"Look this isn't a guilt-trip. I just genuinely want to know if you dislike me so I can stop bothering you." He started, the towel running through his hair, drops of water flying everywhere. You sighed loudly and pitched the bridge of your nose. "I don't hate or dislike you. I hate that you spilled what we were to what's his face at the party. Do you know how many phone calls I've gotten of guys asking me to hook up with them? 24." 

"What we were?" John B asked softly. "You broke your promise, you can't come back from that." You huffed, your eyes not leaving the floor. "It was just a fling." He lied, not only to you but to himself. "Not to me it wasn't." Your voice was just above a whisper.

"What?" 

"Throughout the last few months things felt different. It was really fucking weird to think about, but my heart would always just... race when we spent time together. I wanted things to just be more than a fling. But I figured you just wanted it to be just that thing since you came up with the idea." you admitted. He lightly chuckled as he bent down to be face to face with you.

"Princess. I walked here to you in the rain. This is how much I love you. This," he pointed his finger between you two, "I want more than a fling. I want to be able to just walk around with you on my arm and just give you all the fucking affection I can give. And I'm sorry about the calls. I'll make sure people get the notice to-" you cut him off by quickly pressing your lips against his.

He exhaled loudly, your skin suddenly felt as if it were burning. "God I missed you." He mumbled against your lips as his thumb stroked your cheek. "Show me how much you missed me." You whispered, pulling the boy onto the bed.

[ineloqueent]

the whole of the moon

Platonic!Queen x Reader

cannot remember where this gif is from. if it’s yours, drop me a line!

synopsis: a late-night shopping trip goes awry...

warnings: swearing, mentions of drinking

word count: 1.8k

a/n: happy birthday, dearest vi ( @doing-albri​ )!! i hope you have a wonderful day, because you deserve it. i’m sorry this is so short; i’ve been terribly busy, for whole months, it seems. but i’ve done my best, and i hope you’ll enjoy it. inspired by this song <3

⭒

1975

“Just like old times,” said Roger happily, cranking up the music and beginning to tap his fingers on the steering wheel.

Brian immediately grimaced, and reached over to turn the volume down again.

“Hey!” Roger smacked Brian’s hand away from the knob, and you laughed, from your place between John and Freddie in the backseat.

Brian turned his head to wink at you.

“Some of us need our hearing to be able to play, Rog,” he said.

John wrinkled his nose, flexing his fingers as he shifted a ring from his pointer to his pinky, and back again. “You’ve still got yours left?”

Brian looked confused. “Yeah..?”

“Oh,” said John, with an air of sarcasm, “that’s right. You’re the one who talked our ears off yesterday.”

Now Brian looked miffed. “Just because you don’t understand zodiacal light, doesn’t mean it’s uninteresting.”

Deacy rolled his eyes.

“No offense, darling,” Freddie sighed, “but if you say one more word about science before we’ve finished this champagne-run, I’m going to climb over the console and strangle you.”

Roger guffawed, and John grinned so broadly one would’ve thought him a small child on  Christmas morning.

“Fine,” said Brian, miffed. “I won’t talk at all.”

“Good riddance,” Roger muttered, and Brian crossed his arms.

“Why did I agree to going with you all, again?”

You leaned forward to tug on one of his curls, and Brian whirled, startled, pushing his fingers into his hair. He relaxed when he saw it was only you. “To be the voice of reason, of course,” you told him.

He smiled. “You’re not wrong.”

Roger grumbled, “Don’t boost his ego, sweetheart.”

“Too late,” said Freddie. “He’s going to start talking about time dilation any moment now.”

“Time dilation?” Brian asked. “Hadn’t even thought of that. But if you really want to know—”

A collective groan rose from the other three, and you laughed again.

You loved this.

You loved them.

You loved travelling the world with your four best friends, watching them live their dreams, and getting to be a part of that reality, the reality no one could ever have thought would take on such a life of its own.

Tour life could be hectic at times, but you wouldn’t have given it up for the world.

Not when you arrived in a ramshackle town where the nicest place in sight was the funeral home, not when your legs felt tired enough to give out from beneath you, as you stood watching the show from the wings, for the umpteenth night in a row.

Because when John decided to put on a record, he always asked for your opinion, and picking Roger’s outfit was as much your job as it was his, and when Brian and Freddie played to the crowd as though they were old friends, it was like you held the world in the palm of your hand.

Even if the four of them argued constantly.

As the van suddenly swerved, and the three of you in the back clung to each other in terror, Brian said crossly, “Jesus, Roger, watch the road!”

“I am!” protested the drummer, and Brian grumbled a response in the negative.

“You absolutely are not,” said Freddie, hanging onto the headrest of Brian’s seat. “And I refuse to die in the middle of nowhere, thank you very much, so you can keep your eyes forward if you want to still be in the band by tomorrow night.”

Roger rolled his eyes, and made a blah blah blah gesture with his hand. But he was clearly not as adept at multitasking as he thought, because a moment later, Deacy cried,

“Watch out for that deer!”

“Yes, Roger, slow down,” said Brian warningly. “I swear I will murder you in cold blood if you kill that deer.”

“What deer?” Roger squinted. “I don’t see a— DEER!”

He swerved so violently this time that your seatbelt dug into your skin, and you pushed against the seatbacks to keep from falling forward.

The van hurtled off the side of the road, but Roger had somehow managed to slow the vehicle significantly before the swerve, and so the off-road trip would have been only a momentary pause in your journey into town.

Had it not been for the barbed wire lying in the grass.

The tyres of the van had surely seen better days, after so many miles on the road, and you felt the moment all four of them punctured.

Roger gripped the steering wheel for dear life, and Brian, struggling to combat inertia, had both hands on the dashboard, one knee against the console and other against the door, whilst Freddie still clung to the headrest, and John pushed at the back of Roger’s seat. You, stranded in the middle, failed to maintain any sort of position.

The van ploughed forward like a tidal wave, into the field by the road, then sank abruptly to a stop with a whumph, when the last of its momentum had been wasted.

There was a silence as you looked around the car, at Roger’s tousled hair and Brian’s wide eyes, Freddie’s gritted teeth and John’s crooked collar.

Then the shouting started.

“Roger you moron!”

“How the hell did you not see that coming?!”

“I’ve told you, I need to get my eyes checked!”

“Well, kindly do it before you kill us all!”

“I’ve seen 90-year-old women drive better than you do!”

“Fuck off, Brian! If you hadn’t—”

“We’re never going to get that champagne!”

You all turned to Freddie.

“Really,” you said, “you’re thinking about Moët et Chandon right now?”

Freddie shrugged. “Seems we’d all be in better humour if we’d had the option to have a glass before we left.”

“Or maybe,” Brian drawled, “we’d all be dead, because Roger can barely drive when he’s sober.”

Roger was fuming, bright red in the face with a will to speak but no adequate words to suit, and he looked as though if he stayed silent for a moment longer, he would try to throw a punch at Brian.

Brian, to his credit, folded his arms and raised an eyebrow, and stared Roger down.

Laughter broke the silence, and you all turned to find John completely beside himself with amusement.

He did not stop laughing until he was wiping tears from his eyes, and by then, you had begun smiling too.

“What,” barked Roger.

Deacy shook his head, his soft hair flying about his face. “Don’t any of you see how funny this is?”

“Funny..?” asked Brian cautiously.

“Well,” said Deacy, “are any of you hurt?”

You looked around, tallied the appearances of everyone in your head.

“No,” you replied.

“Okay, then listen: we ran out of champagne, so, despite the fact that it was half-past eleven at night, we all piled into a sort of run-down van, without security, without crew, and set off to buy a bottle of champagne. We’d been driving for all of five minutes before we started arguing the first time, and half an hour into the trip, Roger drives us off the side of a road after Brian finishes rambling about science—”

“Astrophysics, actually—”

“—and all four tyres puncture,” John went on. “And now, we’re in the middle of nowhere.”

There was a pause.

But despite everything, John was right. This really was funny.

You started to laugh as well, and Deacy grinned at you until both Freddie and Brian were smiling, and the corner of Roger’s mouth tugged upward as his colour faded.

Brian sighed, running a hand through his unruly curls. “So, now what?”

“Spare tyres?” you suggested.

“About that…” Roger mumbled.

“Oh, dear god,” Freddie said, dropping his head to his hands.

John laughed again, and Brian made a noncommittal noise.

“So we walk,” you said.

Freddie shook his head. “I am not walking on the side of a road in the middle of the night.”

Roger wrinkled his nose too. “Bloody insects,” he muttered, “get in your hair.”

“And Brian’s stretched his hamstring again,” said Deacy. You glanced over at Brian, who winced apologetically. He wasn’t one to complain, though; you’d all but forgotten his incapacity.

“Which just leaves just you and me,” Deacy nodded to you.

“I dunno, Deacs,” you made a face. “Freddie’s onto something, about not walking on the side of a deserted road in the pitch black. And,” you continued, before John could object, “you’re not going on your own. We’ll simply have to wait until morning.”

Everyone seemed lost in thought.

“Right,” Brian said, “that’s it.” He pulled on the handle of the passenger door, and it clicked open. “We’re sleeping under the stars.”

“Not this again!” Roger cried, but Brian reprimanded him.

“I think you’ve said enough for the time being, Rog.”

The heavy door slammed behind Brian, and you could hear the boot being opened.

“He’s right, you know,” John remarked, in a rare display of solidarity with the guitarist.

Roger only sniffed.

A few seconds later, Brian knocked on Freddie’s window.

“Come on, then!” he said, smilingly. “I’m only sorry none of us brought our instruments.”

Deacy widened his eyes at you. “Thank god for that.”

You laughed and pushed him lightly, toward his door, and when he’d hopped out, you followed.

You rounded the car with John, to find Brian already staring up at the sky, as Freddie and Roger joined you as well.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Brian murmured.

You turned your face to the sky, and saw what he meant.

There was no light pollution here, no skyscrapers or tall houses to obstruct the view, and the world above stretched on endlessly, a plethora of life above your heads. It was so very bright, and yet so very far away. It was indeed beautiful.

You breathed the night air, and nodded.

“I found a picnic blanket,” Brian added, holding it up, “and apparently, Crystal keeps a chocolate stash, so we’ve got that too.” He then sank into the grass, stretching out his long legs, entirely without regard for the light blue suit he wore, and Freddie looked on in distaste.

“That’s no way to treat perfectly good fashion, darling. Now, if it’d been that horrible knitted sweater of yours, and those old, tatty velvet trousers, I’d have said otherwise, but that there is a perfectly good—”

“Sit down, Freddie,” you said, and Freddie closed his mouth and sat. You made your way over to Brian, who had now reclined completely, his fingers winding absently in the pale grass.

Soon, you were all sprawled in the field, which, funnily enough, was peppered with moonflowers, and you sighed, utterly at ease with the peacefulness of the scene around you: your family, the sky, the stars, and the whole of the moon. It shone radiantly this night, full and subtly tinged with orange, warmth softening the usual coldness of its light.

“Spare some of that chocolate?” John whispered from beside you.

You nudged Brian, who passed over the wrapped sweets, which you then handed to John.

Roger was placated by the sharing of the chocolate, and Freddie seemed perfectly content to laze about in a manner similar to that of one of his many cats. The latter fell asleep within minutes, having stolen Roger’s jacket.

It wasn’t long before only you and Brian remained awake, gazing up at the stardust which spilled from the heavens, and the world was quiet.

Brian shifted slightly, and you turned your head to find him looking at you.

A soft smile touched his lips, and his cheeks were rosy in the blue-dark.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he said.

You could not help but smile back, because your heart was as full as it had ever been.

“I’m glad I’m here too,” you whispered.

[baepop]

Sacrifice

When you go on a camping trip with your group of friends, you realize things aren’t as they seem.

Word Count: 14.3k

Pairing: You x Namjoon, You x BTS Members

Genre: Thriller, Smut, Angst

Warnings: OC is fucked in the head basically (disturbing thoughts/ actions); gore, graphic descriptions (It’s really not too bad but I want to make sure I cover all my bases)

Part 1 | Part 2

You could only see his profile during the duration of the car ride, but it’s all you really needed, enough to hold you off until you could get him alone.

It was easy to pretend you two were alone, two love birds skipping town to spend time together on a retreat away from all of your troubles. You were, after all, in the quieter car (save for Namjoon’s whistling) and that was because of who was riding in the back. Jungkook and Yoongi hardly ever said a word, not even to each other, so the drive up the mountain was peaceful. It was one of those drives that had you zoning out and imagining your life was completely different. Though, you couldn’t say your reveries were that diverse. They were all just variations of the same fantasy where you and Namjoon were madly in love, married and sometimes living in a foreign country. Well, you, Namjoon and his child growing inside of you. Being pregnant, for once, wasn’t just another daydream, and you were thankful for that.

It was easy to pretend he was your summer love, something light and airy, uncomplicated and fun, but it was anything but. He often gave you mixed signals, caused you to stay up at night wondering what he meant when he said this and that, and stressed you out about the authenticity of your relationship. You two simply didn’t exist as a couple outside of your own private sphere, and that worried you for many reasons.

You reclined back on your seat and reminisced about the precious moments you’d shared with him, specifically the first time you two met. It was years ago, at a party thrown by a friend of a friend of a friend. You decided to attend last minute, and you were glad you did, because as soon as you entered the kitchen, there he was, facing his back towards you as he carefully poured himself a drink. You were instantly filled with a sense of serendipity, convinced that the universe placed him in your path that night for a reason, because although this would be the first time you two would talk, it wouldn’t be the first time you’d laid eyes on him.

This had to be a sign, you two were somehow meant to be. You just knew it.

Without much of a second thought, you closed the distance in between you and tapped his shoulder. He turned around and took your breath away, just like that. God, he was so perfect, and you, you were nothing, a lowly admirer that would never have a chance. But being near him made you feel like someone, and it was enough of a feeling to cling onto as long as you needed to. Even after all this time, he still had that effect on you.

You smiled and looked at Namjoon once more before returning to your memory.

Your mouth was dry, and your mind went blank, not having bothered to come up with a plan for when you got this far.

“Hmm? Oh, it’s you.” The boy turned back to the task at hand, but instead of lifting his now full cup to his lips, he handed it to you and got himself another. You gladly took it, blushing at the idea that he seemed to recognize you somehow.

“Y-You know who I am?” You smiled at the brim of your cup, batting your eyelashes.

“Yeah, you’re the girl who followed me around the bookstore the other day.” You grew impossibly redder than before.

Your mind drifted to the day he was referring to. You were at your favorite shop in town, perusing the cookbooks when your favorite person walked in, sounding the familiar chime of the creaky wooden front door. You didn’t ogle right away, instead choosing to feign interest in Chrissy Teagan’s recipes as you watched Namjoon’s wispy silver hairs sway to and fro from the corner of your eye. He was surveying the science fiction book he had just picked up, and you wondered if he was going to buy it this time, since this wasn’t the first time he had gravitated towards that novel upon entering. He did end up buying it, but only after perusing the manga section for 20 minutes.

You didn’t think he noticed you that day. You must’ve been getting sloppier, you thought. Either way, the idea of him noticing you made you giddier than it did nervous.

“O-Oh.” It was all you could say. You had been caught red handed, after all. But he was smooth, easy on the eyes and had such a calming presence to him that you didn’t feel as embarrassed as you should’ve been. It just made you like him even more.

He clapped his hand on your shoulder. “It’s okay, we’re all a little weird.” With a tentative smile, he bumped his cup with yours then walked away. You stared after him wistfully, butterflies in your stomach and stars in your eyes. He was, decidedly, the coolest person you’d ever know, so you followed him around that party all night, and this time you weren’t sneaking around.

You sighed and turned away from his beautiful face, choosing instead to squint at the rowdy car driving right beside you. The rest of the boys were there, and it looked like they were having such a heated discussion that they’d swerve into oncoming traffic at any minute. You chuckled to yourself, watching Hoseok take his eyes off the road to lean back and flail his arms around attempting to smack Taehyung.

Taehyung and that mouth of his, I wonder what he said to piss off this hyung this time.

“What’s so funny?” You looked over at Namjoon. His eyes were now trained on you, gentle and patient. His smile was slight, but it was still enough to bring his dimples out, and your heart leaped at the sight. It still bewildered you that no matter how chaotic your thoughts might be, a simple look of his was enough to still raging waters, each patient smile of his serving as a life preserver.

“Nothing, I’m just happy we’re doing this. I really needed to get away for a bit, you know?” Namjoon’s smile widened before he turned back to the road, resuming his whistling as the car continued to carry you for miles into what looked like uncharted territory. Dense foliage and vegetation surrounded the roads and went on uninterrupted like a background real. It was beautiful, to say the least.

You were simply content with taking in the change in scenery, because there was something magical about how a different environment could equate to a different persona. Back home, you were the same old you with your same old troubles. But out here, so far away from home, you could be anyone you wanted, so you imagined you were a farm girl who grew up with horses and lots of land, easily imagining yourself travestying the forest with innate expertise and grace.

It was fun, until the looming rainclouds ruined your reverie.

“Looks like it’s going to rain.” Yoongi woke up from his nap long enough to point out the obvious. Namjoon didn’t respond, his eyes fixed on the road ahead with both hands on the wheel. You recognized the seriousness in his demeanor, because while he would never express his worried thoughts outwardly, you knew he was still human. It was one of the things you loved about him so much, the role he played amongst his long-time friend group. He was always their fearless leader, even in situations that warranted a reasonable amount of fear.

When you first started hanging out with them, it was one of the first things you noticed about him, the way everyone seemed to gravitate towards him, to say things to gain his approval. But none of it seemed to ever go to his head. He was always kind, intelligent and understanding.

As you watched him from the passenger seat, you wanted so badly to reach out and touch him, to put your hand on his lap or hold out your palm for him to take, but you knew it’d be a bad idea, so instead his worry became your worry, watching the clouds and the road like a hawk while keeping track of time to make sure you could arrive to the encampment in time to beat the definite rain shower.

Eventually, a soft road that veered off the highway presented itself amongst a clearing in the trees. Namjoon slowed down enough for the second car to follow his lead as he turned into the dirt. You drove for a little while, past all kinds of trees and shrubbery that blended into countless other vegetation until a round clearing of a couple yards in diameter appeared up ahead. Namjoon parked the car further up to allow the second car to park behind him. Once the vehicles were off, you all got to work setting up the tents. It had grown darker, much darker than it was even just half an hour ago, and because of that, Namjoon suggested setting up the giant tent instead for the night since it appeared it might be storming all night. Everyone was okay with that, except for you. You were looking forwards to a little alone time with Namjoon, but it was clear that wasn’t going to happen, at least not tonight.

With a combined effort, you all had the massively sized tent pitched and erect under the biggest tree in the lot along with blankets, pillows and sleeping bags set up inside, one after the other. Only 5 minutes had passed after zipping up the entrance to the tent before the torrential downpour came down with a vengeance. You pouted as the only remaining light was blighted by the sky’s bad mood. This was an awful start to you and Namjoon’s romantic getaway.

The boys always talked about their legendary camping trips, it seemed, only exclusively around you. They always had insiders and memories from coming here every summer, moments you weren’t a part of that made you feel like an outsider. You were so tired of feeling left out that you finally begged Namjoon to let you come along. He nonchalantly agreed, much to your disappointment. You wanted him to say yes of course, but you wanted him to feel the excitement of going camping with a girlfriend and not just with another one of the guys. Although you were a part of the group, you wanted to be more to Namjoon.

You weren’t allowed much time to glower in the dark before the boys’ antics were lifting you from your funk. First, it was Jin with his whooping and hollering, then Hoseok with his imitation of bird noises that sounded god awful. You laughed at the knuckleheads along with everyone else.

Eventually, Namjoon found the lanterns he had packed away for a situation like this. Soft yellow light filled the tent, bouncing off the green fabric and onto everyone’s sweaty faces. You all sat facing each other, looking around at who would be the next source of entertainment to drown out the droning of the pitter patter going on all around you.

“So, what do you guys normally do when you get here?” You looked at Namjoon, then around the room, genuinely curious about what they found fun about this place.

“Well,” Taehyung was the first to speak, rubbing his neck as he looked at the shadows being casted onto the fabric, “it’s never rained when we’ve come here, so this is a first. We’ve never even had to use this giant tent before.”

“Yeah Y/N, why did you have to ruin it for us. It’s no coincidence that it starts pouring on the same day you decide to tag along.” Jimin shot you a playful look. His teasing always sounded harsh, but you knew he was always all bark and no bite, so you rolled your eyes and pushed him. His eyes shrunk into crescent moons as a pillowy smile dawned his features.

“Shut the fuck up.” You quipped at the boy which had him quirking a brow at you. You only ever cussed at Jimin while being around the other guys because you knew how much they liked to bust his balls.

“Yeah, Jimin, shut the fuck up.” Taehyung followed in your lead which had everyone laughing, especially you, when Jimin shot you a not so playful look this time around.

“Oh! I know,” Jin grabbed the small flashlight that was attached to his keys and held it under his chin for spooky effect, “Let’s tell scary stories.” You rolled your eyes at his childish proposal but couldn’t help chuckling when the boys whooped and cheered. Sometimes you felt like you were hanging with 5th graders around them, but you secretly loved it.

“Me first! Me first!” Taehyung waved his hand in the air to get everyone’s attention.

“Alright, but this better be fucking good. It’s the first one so it’s gotta set the tone for the rest of the stories.” Everyone collectively turned to the blonde in wait. He jutted out his tongue to wet his bottom lip as he thought for a second.

“Okay, so…one time, I was playing hide and seek in this abandoned house—”

“NEXT!!!!” Jin yelled then handed the flashlight to Hoseok. Everyone laughed again after Taehyung frowned, clearly displeased that no one gave his story a chance.

“Ah jeez, I’m the worst with this kind of thing.” Hoseok scratched his head, embarrassed to have the entire group watching and listening to him at once. “Okay…um. Okay, so one time—”

“NEXT!” Jin screamed and Hoseok chucked the flashlight at his head. Jin was by far the most obnoxious of the group. If your friend group was a class, he would’ve been the clown and the problematic child all rolled into one.

Jin caught the tiny accessory on his chest then looked around the room for the next person to annoy. When his eyes landed on you, you knew you were his next target. He tossed the flashlight into your lap and you made no moved to pick it up, instead looking back at him with a serious expression.

“What’s the matter? You too scawed to tell us a stowy?” Jin jutted out his bottom lip, mocking you as he always did. You rolled your eyes.

“If you think I’m going to get baited into telling a story after what you just did to them, you’re stupider than you look” Jin smiled then looked down, trying but failing to keep his expression serious.

“I’ll be on my best behavior, I promise.” He held his hand over his heart and batted his eye lashes at you. You flared your nostrils, finding the entire notion unappealing. To the 6 onlookers, it might’ve seemed innocent, but you knew better. Jin was always trying to get into your pants, each tactic used cheesier and more obnoxious than the last. It left a bad taste in your mouth, but you resolved to put up with it in order to be able to stay close to Namjoon. You peered up at your crush who sat opposite of you in the circle. His eyes were watchful and waiting, so you blushed and decided to entertain the idea.

With a sigh, you began your spooky tale, making sure to make eye contact with all of the boys as you did so, speaking in a slow and quiet tone that you knew would easily frighten them.

“This happened last year, actually. I was in my bedroom—”

“I like where this is going already.” Jin interrupted you as he wiggled his eyebrows.

“Oh my god, shut the fuck up!” Yoongi, whom was very much so the listening type, found his outbursts equally as annoying as you did. When he looked back at you, you continued your story.

“Anyway, I was on my bed,” You looked at Jin for a second, checking to see if he was going to interrupt you again. The sight of him almost popping a blood vessel to keep quiet was extremely funny to you, “looking for a song to put on my phone to zone out to. I put my headphones on, and right before I hit play, I hear a woman’s voice singing right into my ear. You are my sunshine, my only sunshine…you make me happy when skies are grey.” You sang in a creepy slow tune, looking around the circle and nearly laughing when you saw Hoseok’s adam’s apple bob up and down. “So I looked at my phone to make sure it wasn’t playing some creepy song by mistake, and nothing. I took the headphones off and the singing continued. Slowly, the woman’s voice became sadder, until she started crying while singing. Her voice was so close to my ear that I could hear the sniffles as if they were my own. I figured I must’ve been going temporarily insane or something, so I turned the lights off and went to sleep with a pillow on my ears, but the singing continued all night. That freaked me out so bad, that I looked up historical information about my house, and you know what I found?” You made eye contact with Jungkook whose mouth and eyes were wide open, concentrating on your story. You knew they must’ve all been entranced if the one who didn’t believe in any of this stuff was frozen like that, so you continued on. “A woman and her child died in my room a long time ago. She accidentally rolled on top of her sleeping baby in the middle of the night and when she woke up… it was dead. It’s said that she held it for days afterward, singing You Are My Sunshine until she starved to death.” You looked around again, holding back a laugh when everyone simply stared back at you wordlessly.

“…NEXT!”

You threw the flashlight at Jin’s head, “I fucking knew it!” Everyone chuckled as both of your outbursts dissipated the tension in the air.

“Hey, I let you tell the story, didn’t I?! Jin rubbed the spot on the side of his head where the flashlight had nicked him.

The rain never let up, so you all made your peace with sleeping all together in the tent. As everyone got cozy in their respective spots, you frowned seeing Namjoon settle in between Hoseok and Yoongi. I guess it was too much to hope for anyway.

The only spot left to take was beside Jin at the end of the row of sleeping bags, and it had your frown turning into a full-blown scowl. You just knew it wasn’t going to be a peaceful night now that it’s come to this.

You fluffed your pillow and laid down gingerly so as not to touch the boy who was watching you with a smirk. Namjoon turned off the lanterns and flashlights, leaving all of you staring up at the apex of the tent in darkness. The only sounds that could be heard was the rain falling incessantly, and it would’ve been enough to lull you all to sleep, if it wasn’t for the piercing cry that rocked the forest and your tent right along with it.

You all stiffened at the same time, not daring to breathe as you waited for a commotion that never came. It sounded as if a woman was getting stabbed in the trees just past the clearing, the sound was haunting and pronounced and it had all of your hairs at attention. Just as quickly as the screech disturbed the quiet of the night, it had gone and left a deafening void in its absence that made way for the droning of the rainfall. You were all sure she’d come bounding towards the tent soon after, calling out for help.

The tension and unspoken fear hung heavy in the air as Namjoon cleared his throat to speak, “Relax everyone, it was probably just a red fox nearby.”

“Bullshit! What animal sounds like that!?” Hoseok looked over at Namjoon incredulously.

“Red foxes, actually, both male and female. They have a distinct cry that mimics the sound of a human female in distress. They often use it to ward off predators such as coyotes or wolves, or as a mating call.”

“Well that’s just terrific.” Yoongi grumbled, unhappy to hear that there may be aggressive animals in the area.

“Now hold on, it could just be trying to get its dick wet, I don’t blame it. Scream on little buddy.” Everyone chuckled at Jin’s joke except for you and Jungkook. You were tired and just wanted to sulk in peace.

“They also,” Another scream that sounded slightly farther away pierced through the trees and had everyone flinching simultaneously, “scream in sets, so be prepared to listen to it for a little while.” Everyone groaned collectively. “It seems to be moving farther away, so hopefully we can sleep soon.”

No one talked after that, silently waiting for the screams to stop. Though they gradually faded into the rest of the sounds of the forest, it only sounded more and more bone chilling, like a haunted echo, a wailing woman running through the trees in pain and agony.

Eventually, the boys fell asleep one by one with Hoseok being the first one to start snoring. Everyone made fun of him, of course.

You laid awake listening to the sounds of the night. You were used to falling asleep to the sounds of a television, and trying as hard as you may, closing your eyes and pretending you were in your bed at home just wasn’t working. You began thinking about what the next day would entail. You were hoping to get some alone time with Joon, but you weren’t sure how to go about it with all of his guy friends around. You considered asking him to teach you how to fish, something that would require you two to get away for a bit and have some peace.

Suddenly, you felt a finger caressing your arm lightly and you didn’t have to turn your head to know who it was. You grimaced, opening your eyes and staring straight ahead at the fabric of the tent. You had laid on your side with your back facing Jin, but he slowly turned over to face you. You shook your shoulder to get him off, but it only earned a low chuckle from him. He always thought you to be feisty, even when you were just plain pissed and wanting to be unbothered.

Jin was simply trying to get lucky a second time, but you weren’t having it, each of his advances making you angrier than the last. You thought you had made yourself clear after that one drunken night, but every time you rejected him it seemed to make him only want you more.

It happened last year at a house party Yoongi threw. You were all there along with a ton of their friends. No one you knew came, because you didn’t have any friends other than the boys, so you followed Namjoon around like a puppy as he made his rounds to greet people he recognized. You always waited for him to introduce you, but he never did, and it only made your party mood disappear into a cloud of frustration and loneliness.

You loved listening to him talk, loved listening to his stories and anecdotes. He was well read and therefore well spoken. He had the ability to captivate any room and teach you something new in the process. It wasn’t just his boyishly good looks that drew you to him, all of your friends were handsome. You were in love with everything else about him too, the way he smiled shyly whenever someone complimented him, the way he could be so graceful yet so clumsy at the same time, even the way his room was full of Ryan plushies. No one knew about that detail except for you. He’d never let anyone inside of his room except for you, and you held that one little detail as a trophy.

That particular night was different, however. You were used to him not paying as much attention to you when the guys were around, but now you were competing for his attention with the rest of the party goers, especially the pretty girls that had shown up when they heard Yoongi was throwing a party for once. You didn’t blame them for the way they fawned over Namjoon and his gorgeous dimples, but you blamed him for the way he pretended you weren’t even there half of the time. You were so upset that you began drinking yourself into oblivion, determined to prove to yourself and to the others who were giving you sympathy looks that you could have a good time without Namjoon. You hated the way they made eye contact with you every time Namjoon spoke over you, or ignored something you said, each moment sending blood rushing to your cheeks and your lips crashing into the rim of your solo cup.

You had skipped dinner while helping the boys get the house ready for the party, so by the time your third cup was empty you could barely speak a coherent sentence let alone maintain eye contact. The rest of the night was a bit of a blur. Your memories of it consisted of incomplete reels of the boys picking your arms up and dropping them, laughing as they refilled your cups, and getting you to say tongue twisters for their enjoyment.

You were sufficiently drunk and had managed not to gravitate towards Namjoon’s side for the past hour, so you allowed yourself to peak at him from beyond the rim of your cup only to find a red headed girl that you mildly recognized from your neighborhood, sitting on his lap. They were talking intimately, and his smile was dazed, almost sleepy. His cheeks were flushed as he spoke. You couldn’t hear what he was saying to her, but you had to imagine it was the funniest joke in the world with the way she keeled over onto him laughing and continuously patting his chest. He was smitten, and you were green with envy.

You had to get out of eyesight lest you vomit the four mixed drinks you had downed. You stumbled into the kitchen, bumping into people on the way there.

“Fuck, fuck fuck! Where’s all the alcohol?!” You slammed your hands against the countertop, looking around at all of the empty bottles littered throughout.

“Easy there, drunky. We ran out so Hoseok and Jimin left to get some more. Not that you need anymore, you can barely stand.” Jin held you by the elbow as you swayed back and forth, but you ripped your arm out of his grasp so fast that it had you stumbling backward into the island. He chuckled, coming forward again to hold you upright.

“I don’t need your help! I’m fine!”

“Who are you trying to convince, me or yourself?” The boy’s grip on you was ironclad, so you sighed and blinked a couple times, trying to regain your composure.

Finally, you looked up at him. His cheeks were flushed, and his forehead was sweaty. His eyes were trained on you but his gaze was far away, unable to focus on anything in particular. Although it seemed he could hold his liquor well, he was definitely wasted. You narrowed your eyes, poking him in the chest roughly.

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever told you this before, but I find you very annoying.”

This time Jin didn’t hold back his laughter. “Oh yeah?”

“YEAH! You always think you’re soooo funny,” You flailed your arms about to drive your point home, but it only made him laugh even more, “when you’re actually just super obnoxious!”

“That’s it, let it all out.” He hovered over you, his hand never left your arm and his eyes remained on yours centimeters apart.

“And…and you know what else?!”

“Hmm?”

“Your jokes are corny too!”

Jin guffawed, feigning offense. He found this all too entertaining. “Is that all? Are you done?”

You shook your head childishly, feeling proud of yourself for telling him off like you’d always wanted to.

“Well, if I’m so corny and obnoxious, then you’re extremely fucking weak.” Jin spat the words out at you which had you blinking rapidly.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You huffed, furrowing your eyebrows. Being intoxicated always made your emotions run high, so his simple jab was already getting you worked up.

Jin nodded towards the entrance of the kitchen in the direction of the party happening in the living room. “If I had to take a guess, you got yourself nice and wasted because legsformiles over there is occupying all of Namjoon’s attention.” You couldn’t hide the hurt in your eyes. Fuck, is it that obvious? The brunette leaned into you only to whisper in your ear with pure malicious intent, “You’re pretty pathetic if you ask me.”

You flushed with indignance. Suddenly you were trying to rip your arm out of his grip wildly, wanting nothing but to run so you could cry in private, but he wasn’t letting you.

“Don’t tell me you’re seriously going to go bawl your little eyes out after I just called you pathetic? Where’s that fire I always see in you? Where’s that girl that doesn’t take anyone’s bullshit?”

“She’s right fucking here and she’s tired of your shit!” You huffed, looking up at him with watery eyes and crimson cheeks. You could feel the heat radiating off of you in waves.

“Oh yeah? Then prove me wrong then. Prove to me that you’re not just this weak bitch pining over a guy that doesn’t even like you.” Jin let you go and backed away. He half expected you to stomp into the living room and embarrass yourself in front of Namjoon some more. He also half expected you to bolt out of the house to go cry in the bushes. Either way, he was sure to watch since the party was already boring to him. He sees his friends every day, and he’s slept his way through the entire female body in attendance, so he had been bored all along and messing with you was the first amusing thing that’s happened all night.

What Jin wasn’t expecting, however, was for you to press your hand against his dick. His eyes bulged as he looked down at you then at your hand.

“Okay, I’ll prove you wrong. Fuck me.”

Jin chuckled uneasily, confused as to whether this was a trap or not.

“Y/N stop fucking around!” Jin slapped your hand off of him and gripped your shoulders roughly to try and shake you out of whatever momentary craze you had come under.

“I’m serious! Fuck me, right here. I’m not some weak bitch.” You spat the words out at him, tempting him as your hands slid under his shirt. “I don’t need Namjoon’s attention when there’s clearly another fuck boy desperate for it.”

Jin’s eyes narrowed. He didn’t like being reduced to just another fuckboy with a crush on you, but hell, he wasn’t one to keep a girl begging. It only took a couple seconds before he turned you over and hiked your dress up your waist. He bent you over the island while you kept an eye out on the entrance of the kitchen.

Jin pushed your underwear halfway down your thighs impatiently, licking two of his fingers and running them along your entrance to see if you were ready for him. You were surprisingly wet, earning a smile from the boy. She’s a fucking freak that gets off on this kind of shit, who’d have thought?

Jin plunged his fingers into your cunt, swirling his fingers around briefly as he fumbled with his zipper.

“Fuck!” He accidently got his boxers caught on his zipper. You rolled your eyes, getting impatient and quickly losing steam.

After yanking his pants down, he wasted no time slapping his impressive length against your pussy then shoving the head into you. You gasped, feeling how much he was already filling you up. You hadn’t expected him to be so well endowed. You now understood why girls in your town took turns flocking to Jin whenever he was around, as if he was a new ride at a carnival that they all scored free tickets to. This was exactly what you needed to forget, forget about Namjoon in the other room getting felt up by another girl much more attractive and feminine than you. You just wanted to get out of your own head for a moment, to feel wanted and attractive in someone’s eyes, even if it was annoying ass Jin.

You struggled to keep your moans low as he fucked you fiercely against the marble. He pounded into you with an intensity that had you seeing stars prematurely. He groped your flesh greedily, struggling to keep up his ferocity with impaired motor skills. He took turns groping your ass and your hips, releasing air tightly through gritted teeth as he reveled in the feeling of your tight walls squeezing his dick. You wanted to moan so loudly, you’d never been fucked like this before, but the only thing worse than having to live with the reality of letting Jin of all people fuck you in public was having others know about it too.

Suddenly your voice of reason weakly pounded against the walls of your mind, pleading for you to think about what you were doing. Jin doesn’t care about you. But Namjoon does, he just doesn’t show it how you want him to. How do you think he’d feel if he found out about this?

Tears sprang to your eyes involuntarily and suddenly you were sobbing against the counter. Jin caught wind of the tiny sniffles and froze. His dick immediately went soft as he pulled it out of you, bending over you to see if you were okay.

“Jesus fucking Christ kid, get a hold of yourself!”

“I—I—” You struggled to get a sentence out, your chest heaving involuntarily, and hot tears poured over your rosy cheeks. You stood up and let Jin help you put your underwear back on, but his hand stilled before it could pull your dress down. Both of your attentions were now drawn to the entryway where Jungkook stood in sheer horror. His mouth was wide open and full of food, his hand holding an empty beer can. He didn’t come in any further, but he also made no moves to leave, until you yelled at him.

“Get the fuck out of here Jeon!!” The boy scrambled out of the kitchen so fast it was almost enough to make you laugh if you weren’t so busy feeling fucking awful about yourself.

You pushed Jin’s hands away and finished pulling your dress down. Your moment of embarrassment slowly faded and made room for more tears, so you swiftly turned and left through the exit in the kitchen. Jin was right all along, you just ended up leaving to go cry by the bushes after all.

It was when you were out of tears and down to sniffles when you heard the door creak open then slam closed. The smell of smoke invaded your senses. You turned to see Jin pop a squat next to you with a cigarette in his mouth and another one nestled in between his fingers extended to you. You took it and put it in between your lips as he held a zippo flame up to the end of it, nurturing the fire with a closed palm.

You pulled and inhaled before exhaling a cloud of translucent white into the quiet of the night. Turning the cigarette over in your fingers to look at it properly, you realized they were menthols, your least favorite kind, but you smoked it nonetheless.

“You have until the end of this cigarette,” You took another pull and exhaled the smoke through your nostrils, your body physically calming down and easing your mind, “and then we go back to how we always were. This never happened, and you’ve always been annoying Jin, capeche?”

Jin chuckled, looking at you for a moment before looking away. “Fine by me sweetheart. But we had a witness so, I don’t know how far you’re going to get living in denial.”

You cringed, remembering the look on Jungkook’s face, the judgement in his eyes. You cussed, flicking some of the ash off of your cigarette.

“Relax. I’ll talk to the kid.” You looked over at Jin and the seriousness in his face and tone. It allowed you to relax and trust in him, so you both sat in silence, inhaling and exhaling for a while.

When the alcohol arrived, Jin left your side and you went home to shower, trying desperately to scrub off all of your shame, but it was futile. You perpetually made bad decisions, and you were always forced to wear them like tattoos.

Things happened exactly as you both had said, however. Well, almost exactly. Jungkook never said a word about the ordeal, and you and Jin had continued bickering and pretending nothing had ever happened between you. He kept hitting on you unabashedly and you kept swatting him away like a pesky bug that just wouldn’t quit.

But you were starting to think that the lack of intimacy between you and Namjoon had emboldened him, since he had never actually touched you intimately like this apart from that time in the kitchen.

As you laid there being caressed by him, you panicked, feeling like your past wouldn’t stop suffocating you.

“Stop.” You spoke plainly and in a low voice so as not to wake up the others. Jin’s hand froze as he propped his body up on his elbow to get a better look at you.

“C’mon, you honestly can’t tell me you haven’t been wanting a round two?”

“That’s exactly what I’m telling you. I’m not interested in you that way. Or at all for that matter. I hate you, remember?” You hesitated, feeling a twinge of embarrassment at saying your next sentence. “I was drunk and sad, and you were an easy lay. Now please let me sleep.”

Jin scoffed, “What the fuck do you see in that nerd anyway? Earth to Y/N, he’s not interested.”

“You’re wrong. There’s… something between us.”

“…something? For god’s sake Y/N—”

“She said leave her alone, hyung.”

You both turned towards the voice that came from two sleeping bags over. It seemed you were wrong, Jungkook had been awake all along.

You smiled shyly, feeling grateful that he felt inclined to come to your defense after witnessing what went down between you and Jin.

Jin was outwardly annoyed but he stopped making advances towards you immediately and turned the other way to go to sleep.

You turned over too, smiling to yourself and deciding to thank Jungkook for sticking up for you and for also being a gentleman last year when you were a complete mess, especially because you knew it wasn’t just a funny story to him. You’d always known about his crush on you, but things between you two weren’t simple.

You met Jungkook and the rest of Namjoon’s friends shortly after you started hanging around Namjoon. They were all practically inseparable, and because you were now inseparable from Namjoon, it meant you were constantly around them too. You were all much younger back then, and Jungkook was the runt of the group. He was always so innocent with huge doe eyes and a small bunny smile. You quickly noticed how he reacted differently to you than everyone else, but you were so callously absorbed in Namjoon’s orbit that you didn’t care for it at all.

Of course, everyone else quickly noticed his crush on you too and even teased you about it all the time, which frustrated you because you didn’t want anyone picturing you with anyone but Namjoon.

On one night, however, you knew most of Namjoon’s friends were too busy to hang out, so you invited yourself over to his apartment, keen on finally making your move. When you arrived, Jungkook was there, much to your annoyance, but you didn’t let that stop you. Whether he was there or not, you had resolved to show Namjoon exactly how much you liked him.

The night started off innocently with all of you hanging out in Namjoon’s living room listening to his old records and playing games. Though this might’ve started off as just another hang out sesh for the other two, it certainly wasn’t for you, and the longer it went on, the harder it was for you to wait any longer. Suddenly, after Namjoon switched out the current disk for a Frank Sinatra one, you turned towards the love of your life, swayed by the sultriness of the tempo. He turned to you and smiled, so you leaned in and pressed your lips to his.

His hands quickly found your shoulders and pulled you off of him, his wide eyes darting over to Jungkook who sat there stunned with the shuffled uno cards in his hands.

“Let him watch, who cares?” You mumbled, turning Namjoon’s head back towards you and kissing him again. His lips hesitated at first, then quickly warmed up to you as his hands found your waist instead.

You two made out for a while, rolling on the floor in a tangle of limbs while Jungkook refused to blink. Eventually, Namjoon pulled away when your fingers found his belt buckle, taking your hands in his and halting your movements.

“You really want to go there?” You nodded dazedly, biting your swollen lip. It was all you could think about, all you wanted since you first laid eyes on him. You wanted every part of him. You wanted to be wholly his.

“Then,” Namjoon smirked and turned towards Jungkook, “take care of him first.” You followed his gaze and watched as the younger boy’s eyes widened impossibly further.

“You mean,” You sat back, realizing what he was implying, “what, is watching your thing or something?” Namjoon snickered and straightened his shirt.

“Show me how badly you want it.” He quirked his brow at you smirked, but there wasn’t any warmth in his eyes.

Part of you was disappointed. You hated jumping through all these hurdles to be able to get to his heart, but you kept telling yourself that this would be the last thing he’d put you through before giving himself to you, so you began taking your clothes off without hesitation. If this was what Namjoon wanted you to do, then you’d simply do it and look forward to the day where it’d finally just be you two.

Jungkook sat a few feet from you, frozen in panic. He was sweating, gulping as he watched your fingers carefully unbutton your blouse. His irises were trained on your very movement and his breathing quickened when you made eye contact with him. You slid your shirt off your shoulders and swung your arms around to unhook your bra, but seeing how scared Jungkook looked, you decided to slow down and take your time, despite just wanting to get this over with.

You crawled over to him and took purchase on his lap, looping your arms around his neck. He was stiff and his hands hesitated to touch you. You wondered if he was a virgin, so you looked back at Namjoon with a questioning stare. He simply smiled back at you, his gaze telling.

You pursed your lips and turned back to Jungkook who was growing redder by the second. “Just relax, okay? I’ll do all the work.” You leaned down and pecked his lips tentatively. That’s when he was finally emboldened enough to put his hands on you and kiss you back hungrily. You weren’t expecting the sudden passion, so you went along with it.

As you began kissing the boy’s neck, you maintained eye contact with Namjoon, wanting him to know that this was all for him, and that you’d be imagining you were with him the entire time.

After that night, Jungkook had seemed to think you two were together, until you pulled him aside one day and told him Namjoon was the only man for you. He got the picture right away, because that was the last day he’d ever spoken directly to you.

Looking back at that time many years ago, you felt a little guilty having taken Jungkook’s virginity while knowing how he felt about you. He ended up being collateral damage, and he certainly didn’t deserve that. But what else were you supposed to do, refuse and risk Namjoon closing himself off to you? You couldn’t risk it.

As you laid there trying to sleep, you wondered what he must’ve thought about you that day he walked in on you and Jin, and you wondered why he felt this loyalty to you despite you treating him terribly.

You awoke alone in the tent. The birds were chirping all around you, soft green light illuminating the disheveled interior of the sleeping arrangement. You had no idea what time it was, but you were surprised everyone had been up and about before you were. You wondered how long they let you sleep in for, feeling bad for not being there while they were probably busy setting up camp. Though, as you stretched out your limbs and yawned, you realized it was awfully quiet, so you hurried to get out and investigate for yourself, deciding to get angry if they had all decided to do something fun without you.

You unzipped the tent hastily and stumbled out, squinting against the sunshine as you surveyed the clearing. Everyone was gone except for Namjoon who sat on a log peacefully reading from his worn-out copy of The Art of War. He perked up to the sound of the leaves rustling under your feet, turning to you and smiling dreamily.

“Hey, sleepy head.” Three words, 4 syllables, was all it took for you to get weak in the knees this early in the morning. You blushed, hurrying to smooth your bedhead and wipe any remaining drool off your face.

“H-Hey. I’ll be right back. You dove back into the tent to rummage through your belongings for a hair brush and some mouthwash. You only left Namjoon waiting five minutes before you hurried over to sit by his side.

As you sat perched on the wood next to him, you noticed he was only 3 pages from finishing the book for the 5th time. It was his absolute favorite book, and you’d watched him pull it out to read countless times before. You waited patiently for him to finish, sitting in the sunshine and feeling content to simply be in his presence. When he noticed you staring at him dreamily with your cheeks resting on your palms and your elbows on your knees, he paused his read to pull you into his chest and nuzzle his nose into the top of your head. Your heart squeezed along with your eyes as you buried your head under his arm, trying hard but failing to keep the goofy smile off your face. You wished you had woken up much sooner, so that you could snuggle with Namjoon for longer than 1 and a half pages.

All too soon, he closed the book and stood up, stretching his arms then placing his hands on his hips. “Alright, what should we do then?”

You pouted at the loss of contact, looking around at all of the pitched tents and the set up barbecue area. “What else is there to do? It seems like you all did everything already. Where is everyone, anyhow?”

“Hobi and Yoongi went down to the river to catch us some breakfast. Jimin, Taehyung and Jungkook left to gather some firewood, and Jin went to go find cell service.”

You rolled your eyes, “God forbid he goes a couple days without checking his follower count.”

Namjoon chuckled, shaking his head. “He means well, I suppose.”

It was never like Namjoon to talk badly about anyone. He was almost too perfect, and it was hard to decipher whether this was an irrefutable truth, or if you were simply seeing him through love goggles. He was amazing, much too amazing for you, that was for sure, but that didn’t stop you from holding out hope that yours and Namjoon’s relationship would evolve into something much more than fleeting signs of affection.

“So, you waited here alone for me?” You looked up at him hopefully.

“Yep. I didn’t want you to wake up alone,” You smiled down at your knees, feeling appreciative that he was so considerate of you when any of the other guys wouldn’t have thought twice about leaving you for dead. “These parts have a lot of wildlife, so it’s best to stick to a buddy system.”

“Ah, so we’re buddies then.” You stood up and linked your arm to his.

“I hope you’re not too disappointed. I promise to make it worth your while with plenty of riveting facts about bugs and birds.”

You rolled your eyes and smiled cheesily, “I suppose it’ll have to do.”

As you both ventured up a narrow trail that took you in between tons of maple trees, you thought back to the last time you were able to spend some alone time with Namjoon.

It was months ago, back when one of Joon’s relatives had passed away.

The funeral was brief and simple since Namjoon didn’t have much family as it was. The boys and you were the majority of the attendees. Everyone felt awkward, feeling out of their element when it came to being a support system for their fearless leader. Namjoon was never someone they had to look after, so to see him absolutely broken was hard for them, and it was especially so for you.

You spent all week at Namjoon’s place, making him food to eat and spending a lot of silent time together. He refused to talk about it, refused to say anything about how he was feeling. He simply preferred to sit in silence and stare at whatever food you brought him. You felt like you were bothering him at times but if you weren’t going to be the one to take care of him during his time of need, then no one else would. Everyone always assumed he was an immovable pillar, someone strong and incapable of crumbling, but you saw past all of that. You knew what a gentle soul he was, and you didn’t want that to get lost in the sea of grief washing over him.

After the burial, all of the boys paid their respects, sticking around to talk to Namjoon a bit before they slowly went their separate ways. You stuck around to walk him home, hoping he’d invite you in. You already felt intrusive enough, and you wanted him to show you that he cared for you at all, even if it was something as simple as uttering the word stay.

But much to your disappointment, you watched him walk past you when you stopped in front of his door and enter without a backwards glance. You stared at the wooden door for a while before heading home, letting a few tears escape while you were still alone.

You didn’t have to wait long to hear from Namjoon either, he showed up outside of your bedroom window last that night, throwing tiny pebbles at it until you lifted the glass to see who the hell was disturbing your sleep.

You stared down at the silver haired boy in awe, unable to believe he was staring back up at you waiting to be let in. Hell, you hadn’t even known he knew where you lived.

You hurried down and snuck him upstairs swiftly.

As he stood in the middle of your tiny room, dwarfing your belongings and you for that matter with his height and stocky build, it only then occurred to you that you might feel embarrassed. You blushed realizing he was observing you in your childish pajamas, surrounded by posters and trinkets you’d had since you were a teenager. You never cared much for change, so it times it seemed and felt as if you weren’t a full-fledged adult.

He was definitely out of place in his shabby oversized suit and dirt covered converses while looking around wordlessly. He nodded to himself before finally looking at you. “So…this is your bedroom, huh.” He smiled, but it never quite reached his eyes.

“Yep. Since I was a toddler,” You smiled back halfheartedly. You were on edge, to say the least. “Namjoon, what are you doing here?”

The boy looked down at his feet, the sad expression he’d worn all week making a return. He made his way over to you, pausing at the edge of your bed to ask permission to make himself at home before he sat next to you and sighed deeply. “I…I don’t know, to be honest. I guess I just…don’t want to be alone.” Namjoon’s head hung and his hand hesitated in the air before finally placing it on your knee and rubbing circles on it with his calloused thumb.

Your heart skipped a beat. You shifted closer to him, putting your hand over his and patting his back gently to let him know you were there for him. You heart pounded furiously in your ears as you waited for him to either make eye contact with you or say something else. The silence felt overwhelming, so you blurted out the first thing that came to mind

“I love you, Joon.” You froze, blushing furiously and choking on your next words in a hurry to get past what you knew he wasn’t ready to hear yet. “Y-you know I’ll always be here for you.” Namjoon nodded, looking up at you with sympathetic eyes that broke your heart. You didn’t know much about love or relationships for that matter, but you knew it couldn’t be a good thing that his response was to look at you as if you were a beaten-up puppy left on the side of the road.

His prolonged silence stung, so you turned away, searching for anything to relieve the unbearable moment. But just as quickly as you turned away, Namjoon’s finger tipped your chin back towards him and suddenly his lips were on yours, hesitant and calculative.

You didn’t move at first, adjusting to the realization that the love of your life was now kissing you. It was sweet and tasted faintly of toothpaste. He was everything you ever wanted, so you brought your hand up to his cheek and kissed him back sweetly. If he wasn’t ready to hear what you had to say, then you wanted your lips to convey everything your words couldn’t. You wanted each kiss to be all the ‘I love you’s’ you’d ever wanted to say to him, and all the caresses to make him feel as warm and safe as his smiles always made you feel.

It was clear he was letting you have full control over the situation as his hands refused to depart from this lap. You weren’t sure what he wanted, or needed in that moment, so you took a leap and climbed onto his lap. He spread his legs and leaned back slightly, letting his large hands rest on your hips. His eyes drank you in as if for the first time. He surveyed your entire body hungrily, his irises darkening as they made their way up to gaze at your own. You were both slightly panting from the heat of the kiss while you let his hands feel the fabric of your clothing and any exposed skin. He let you tug his suit jacket off his shoulders while his hands traveled slowly over your thighs, his hands pulling up your shorts to expose even more skin and part of your ass.

His hands continued upwards, taking your shirt off before bringing your face to his to kiss again. It all felt so surreal. You had imagined this moment in your head so many times before, each time under vastly different circumstances than at present. In your fantasies, he was almost always your boyfriend, and he always said I love you too.

You let his hands grope your bare chest as you got to work on the buttons of his dress shirt. Once free, you spread the fabric open and laid your hands on his chest. Your mouth watered at the sight of his honey skin stretched over taut pecks. He was absolutely perfect.

One thing that didn’t stray from you fantasies, however, was the way Namjoon made love to you. He was as tender and giving in real life as he was in your head. It hadn’t taken long for you two to strip each other and for you to put a condom on him that you found in one of your drawers.

You rolled the latex down his length then shimmied under his torso and opened your legs wide for him. He leaned in as you wrapped your arms around his neck, lining his cock at your entrance then plunging in. You both sighed in unison, adjusting to the feeling of him being inside of you. You were impossibly wet and growing wetter still as he began rocking into you slowly, making sure that you weren’t in any discomfort. It was the complete opposite of fucking Jin, you were happy to discover.

His sweaty forehead laid on yours while he bucked his hips into you. You wrapped your legs around his waist and clung onto him for dear life, reveling in the feeling of being the closest to this man you’d ever been.

Your lips dragged across the salty skin of his neck and shoulders, your teeth catching on his shoulder. You nipped and licked at the skin while he groaned in your ear. His arms encircled your head as his hips picked up in speed, causing you to lose control of your moans. He quickly pressed his lips against yours to muffle the sounds as his hips got impossibly faster, eventually making the bed squeak rhythmically. You were too caught up in the moment to care about that though, not when you were finally with Namjoon. Eventually, you couldn’t hold out anymore. The motion and intensity of his hips had you orgasming around him. He groaned into your ear as he spilled his cum into the condom deep inside of you. Your sweaty bodies remained entangled as your breaths slowed. You never wanted to let go of him, so he had to pry your limp limbs off of him to get the condom off.

Much to your happiness, he laid back down next you after disposing of the soiled latex, pulling the sheets onto your bodies. He laid on his side, facing his back towards you, so you settled for being little spoon.

But the consequent joy of your brief intimacy subsided and made way for all the terrible things at the back of your mind. You silently cried for a long time that night, for many reasons. You had felt overwhelming happiness at finally being intimate with Namjoon, but you also felt incredible sadness at the thought of what Namjoon must’ve been going through. You’d never experienced a death in the family before, but nonetheless, you swore you wouldn’t hesitate to take his pain and give it to yourself if you could.

You felt insurmountable fear. Fear about the future and the present and the past. Fear that he’d find out about Jin, fear that he’d wake up in the morning and regret tonight, and fear that he’d get mad at the thought of you being pregnant with his child. There was a chance of it happening, after all, since tonight you’d used the condom you had deliberately poked holes in. You’d be overjoyed at the chance to carry his baby, but you couldn’t be sure he would be happy about being a father right now.

Most of all, however, you felt great sadness at the fact that the man you loved hadn’t turned around once all night to ask you why you were crying.

And now, as you watching his back while hiking the trail in the woods, you rubbed your lower belly, feeling comforted that even though he had decided to pretend that night never happened, you now had insurmountable proof that it did in fact happen. A physical manifestation of the love you and Namjoon shared, even if only for 20 minutes. Your stomach was still flat, but you just knew you were pregnant. You always felt a part of him with you at all times. There was no way you weren’t.

You whistled along giddily as you jogged to catch up with him.

“No, no no. There’s no way you’re going to convince me that these bugs aren’t out to get me, you’re just not!” You slapped at the air in a panic, swearing for the 11th time that something had bitten you while you were unawares.

Namjoon chuckled, helping you climb over a hump of large, overgrown tree roots. “Y/N, I promise you, no matter how scary their physical appearances look, bugs found in a forest such as this one are polyphagous. They’re not going to crawl in through your ears and eat your brain while you’re sleeping, as you so elegantly put it.”

“Poly-whatta?” You stumbled over some branches hidden under a pile of leaves. Hiking was not your favorite, but if it meant getting to be with Namjoon, you were game for anything.

You two had been walking and descending for about 20 minutes. The gurgle of running water could now be heard faintly in the distance, and so could the voices of the boys laughing and splashing. Foraging for firewood my ass.

“Polyphagous. It means they dine on oak, not people.”

You two cleared the remaining trees, peering over the jagged rocks that lined the small cliff overseeing the river. Namjoon’s friends were indeed a few feet below, taking a swim break.

“Yeah, whatever.” You waved him off absentmindedly, becoming entranced by the height of the cliff. You pondered whether the jump might be fatal, and just before you decided to launch yourself, Namjoon’s hand reached out and grabbed your wrist tightly.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!”

You looked behind you at his panicked eyes. “Jumping. What’s the big deal?”

“The big deal is that you could die! We’re really high up!”

“So what if I died?”

Namjoon was stunned into silence, unsure of how to respond.

He looked down then back up, raking in your entire figure with turmoil on his mind.”

“It’s not just yourself that you should be worried about, you know.” You furrowed your eyebrows, unsure of what he meant but becoming increasingly annoyed by the usual vagueness in his words. You shook his hand off, looking back down at the water.

“Whatever, I’ll be fine! But if you’re sooo worried about me, come join me.” You smirked mischievously at Namjoon before bolting into the air. The boy cussed, removing his boots in a hurry to jump down after you.

Your descent into the icy water was quick. You were only able to hear the boys crying your name before you plunged deep into the dark waters. Your eyes jolted open at the sudden change in temperature your body was experiencing. It was the middle of summer yet this water was so unbelievably cold.

The surface ebbed and flowed inconsequentially, but what laid under was devoid of light and existed so still and undisturbed that it felt dreamlike. You couldn’t hear a sound and could barely see anything. Your body lost velocity exponentially as your trajectory came to a halt a few feet under the surface, suspended in the stillness of the cold water. You were running out of air quickly, but you weren’t in a hurry to swim up, or move. You just wanted to be, for a second. Being so deep in the water and alone, you thought about how easy it might be not to fight anymore.

Suddenly, Namjoon breaking the surface of the water and joining you a few yards away in broke you out of your reverie. You turned to look at him, but you couldn’t focus on his receding body as he quickly swam to the surface, not when there was another body next to his.

It was pale, so devoid of blood that it served as a beacon of light among the murky backdrop, like a moon in the darkest night.

It was a girl, similar age as yours. She was naked, her limbs extended out in front of her. Her eyes were open and her light brown hair waved gently all about her in disarray. Her lips were puffy and her stomach was awfully distended yet sagged that it looked like she was pregnant, or rather once was.

You screamed, but the sound was muffled. Only bubbles escaped you as you began flailing your limbs in a panic. Two arms reached around your torso and dragged you up and into the light.

The second you broke the surface of the water, you gasped for air, looking around you in a panic, You were in Jin’s arms as he stared at you with concern, but you had a hard time focusing on anything in particular.

“What, are you fucking suicidal or something!? What the hell was that about?!” Seokjin let you go once you began shoving him off of you.

“Well don’t fucking yell at her, she’s clearly spooked!” Hoseok swam towards you, trying to get you to look him in the eyes.

“T-Th-The—” You stuttered, pointing at the water, trying not to cry before you could get your sentence out.

“Spit it out junior!”

“There’s a-a a dead girl in the w-water.” Everyone’s eyes widened and their jaws tightened, their senses on high alert at the thought of danger being close by. They all looked around at each other, but it was Jungkook who dove into the water to investigate what you were talking about.

“S-she’s pregnant too! She’s right there, right next to Namjoon!”

“Shhh,” Jin cooed you and patted your matted down tresses. Jungkook came back up for air, giving Namjoon and Jin a look before Jin took in your frazzled appearance again. “Look, it could’ve been anything down there. Let’s get you dry, okay?”

“N-No! I know what I saw!” You argued with the boy who continued cooing you, but nonetheless you let him drag you out of the water and towards their belongings by the rocks. He draped several towels over you and sat you down on a stump.

“Just stay here and calm down.” Without a backwards glance he joined the boys and they resumed their talking in hushed tones and whispers so you couldn’t hear them. You rolled your eyes, gritting your teeth in annoyance. You knew what you saw, yet you were just another crazy girl to them. Hell, maybe you were, but you weren’t going to let them make you believe you were seeing things.

While their backs were turned, you quietly got up and trekked up the ascent. You decided to call the cops, but as you entered the forest again, you realized you had forgotten to take your phone out of your pocket.

“Fuckkkk,” You removed the device from your drenched pocket and clicked all of its buttons to no avail. It was done for. “Great…”

Luckily there was still plenty of daylight ahead, so you set off toward the direction of camp, keen on changing your clothes and drying your hair. However, along the way you seemed to have followed a different trail, since you had been walking aimlessly for 40 minutes and the camp was still nowhere in sight. The realization sent a tremor of fear through you.

It’s okay. Calm down. Remember what Namjoon told you about getting lost in a forest. You took a deep breath, closing your eyes to regain your nerve.

Namjoon. You wondered what he was doing and thinking about right now. You wondered if he noticed you were even gone by now. You hadn’t heard the boys in almost an hour, and suddenly you felt so alone. You gulped looking around you carefully and remembering what Namjoon said about there being wild animals in the area. Crap, I forgot about the buddy system.

As if on cue, you heard leaves and twigs snapping under the weight of two pairs of boots nearby. Your head quickly snapped in the direction of the growing sounds. Two people were getting closer to you, and upon recognizing the voices of Hoseok and Yoongi in idle chat, relief flooded through you. When you heard your name, you realized they must’ve been looking for you, so you ducked behind a tree, intent on scaring them when they got a bit closer. It would be payback for not taking you seriously at the river.

“Where the fuck could she have gone? She wasn’t at camp and she fled the river. There’s nowhere else she could be hanging out at, really. She hates nature so…” Yoongi swatted at the air, a winged bug gracefully avoiding his attack.

“I don’t know man. But we have to find her or else Namjoon’s going to be pissed.” Your heart swelled. Could he have told his friends that he liked you enough to be upset if something had ever happened to you? You tried not to squeal with glee, changing your mind about pouncing on them in favor of eavesdropping. Everyone was always so cryptic with you, so this was the only way to find out about Namjoon’s feelings for you. Hoseok helped Yoongi over a log as he continued speaking. “Remember the last time we lost a girl?”

Yoongi groaned, “Don’t remind me. He wanted to kill us on the spot when we told him Chaeyoung ran away. Luckily that didn’t end as badly as it could’ve.”

“Yeah. She was a slow runner.” The two boys sniggered, their footsteps getting farther and farther away. After a few moments of silence, they began calling out your name in all directions, but you stood frozen in shock.

The last girl? Chaeyoung? Slow runner? None of it was making sense. You began trembling, tears welling in your eyes. You felt insurmountable fear. There was no denying that their conversation wasn’t innocent. It seemed sick, almost. Your mind began racing, wondering if you had missed anything during your friendship with these guys to suggest that they were dangerous. They all seemed like normal people, and they never chased you down for friendship. You had all been friends for a long time now. There had to be some sort of misunderstanding.

But you couldn’t deny that the name Chaeyoung rang a bell.

You drew in a shaky breath, a younger girl with big eyes and reddish hair flitting across your memories. The name belonged to a woman that went missing in your neighborhood a long time ago. You had grown up in the same town, attending the same birthday parties and seeing each other at the park often, but you were never friends. You had always heard of her, but never really talked to her directly. After you had all grown up, it had been years before you even heard her name again. The last time you saw her was at Yoongi’s party last year, sitting on Namjoon’s lap.

It was your coworker that brought her up on a random day, asking if you had known who she was. Her body had been found in a local park that summer, tied up and drained of blood completely. The entire ordeal shook your neighborhood to the core, the thought that something so gruesome could happen to such an inconsequential girl. That was the last time you thought about her, until now.

Could she have been running from them, the night that she died? You shook your head, unwilling to believe your friends could be behind something so vile and monstrous. But now that you were thinking about it, you hadn’t known any of them knew her until you saw her at the same party as you. Since you hung out with them all the time and she was never there, you figured she was just some random attendee. Could they have been reminiscing about a time long ago when they were possibly good friends?

You tightened your fist, digging your nails into your palm and finding the resolve to get answers. You set off quietly behind Yoongi and Hoseok, keeping a safe enough distance to make sure they didn’t see or hear you following them.

Fifteen minutes went by with them calling out your name until things got quiet again. You grew anxious as they continued on in silence, mentally pleading for them to say something, anything that would dispel you suspicions about them.

Suddenly, Jungkook came bounding into view from a downhill slope. “Anything?”

“Nah, we’ve been walking around in circles and haven’t seen her. Is everyone else looking?”

“Well, Namjoon is at the campsite in case she turns up, and Jimin and Tae are getting rid of the body at the river.”

“Like they should’ve done the first time around. I really don’t want to be there when Namjoon tears them a new one.”

Jungkook shivered, recalling his own time when he fucked up and Namjoon was angry with him. “Yeah… Have you guys seen Jin? I haven’t seen him at all, so I assumed he was out searching with you two.”

The boys looked at each other in confusion. “No, we haven’t. Maybe he’s searching for service again.”

Jungkook rolled his eyes, “Well, now we have two people to find. It’s Jin’s turn to do the deed.”

“Oh shit, that’s true. We’ve all done it except for him.” You clapped your hand over your mouth to control your oncoming hyperventilation. The deed?! What the fuck!?

“He better not pussy out. He puked the last time.” Yoongi made a face of disgust while remembering Jin spilling his lunch all over the ground. Hoseok cackled at the memory.

“Oh yeah! I forgot about that!” Their voices trailed off as they began moving again. You didn’t follow them this time, growing more and more afraid that they’d catch onto you eventually. When they were far enough away, you began moving in the opposite direction, your mind racing a mile a minute. You had to formulate a plan to put as much distance from yourself and them as possible. You still didn’t know what the hell was going on, but you knew you wanted to be as far from it as possible lest you somehow met the same fate as Chaeyoung.

But although the boys in this moment were scaring you, you still felt the need to see Namjoon, to speak to him and have him confirm that everything was alright. He always made everything alright. He was your everything, and if anyone could say the words you absolutely needed to hear, it was him.

You knew you were close to camp since the trees were thinning out the farther you went. Surely enough, you were able to spot the tents a couple yards from you in between the wide cracks of the trees.

But just as you took a step in that direction, your eyes flitted toward movement just up ahead. It was Namjoon, crouched down by a bushel. He wasn’t alone, a small woodland creature was keeping him company. Like some Disney prince, he was feeding a bunny…no, a squirrel? You couldn’t see properly, but none of it mattered. Namjoon would always be Namjoon and he’d always be everything you needed. You lurched forward, intent on running into his arms in that moment, but suddenly a pair of arms wrapped around you tightly, halting you from going forward.

You instinctively froze, not knowing whether your detainer was armed or deranged. You trembled and your breath quickened as a big hand clasped over your mouth tightly, fear taking over you. He was tall and strong; you wouldn’t be able to get out of his grasp without a weapon. Your eyes flitted around to anything sharp that you might be able to use, but when your head began moving around, he yanked your jaw back in the direction of Namjoon.

Suddenly, Seokjin’s voice was stern and low in your ear. “Calm down. Just watch.” It seemed he too, was trying to avoid getting seen, and he wanted you to watch Namjoon for whatever reason, so you did.

Your breathing slowed and you slumped against him, feeling as helpless as the feeble squirrel eating from Joon’s hand. You both stared as Namjoon fed the animal his last snack. Without using quick movements that might alert it, the boy reached into his back pocket and pulled out a blade. In the flash of an eye, the animal’s throat had been cut, blood spurting out and getting a little onto Namjoon’s boots. Your eyes squeezed shut, an involuntary scream leaving you that was luckily muffled by Jin’s strong hold on your face. He held you tighter to him, yet he too was trembling.

Namjoon quickly pulled out a cup and held the animal upside down above it, letting the crimson liquid spill into the canteen. Fresh hot tears spilled from your eyes, a sob wracking your figure as you witnessed the gory scene through water eyes.

Once he had collected enough blood, he tossed the carcass aside and carried the container back to the campsite while whistling. As his figure retreated past the trees and away from earshot, Jin let you go and your shaky legs caused you to collapse onto the ground.

He let you cry for a while, knowing the experience would traumatize you but knowing you needed to see it.

You stuttered, trying to make sense of it all. “B-but. W-why…D-did you all bring me here t-to kill me?!” Jin flinched at the word yet didn’t offer anything. You looked down, rubbing your stomach with your cold hand. “B-but…you can’t! I’m pregnant, with his child you, you can’t!”

Jin pursed his lips, is eyes raking you with concern. “Y/N…you’re not…” Jin’s voice was barely above a whisper and he couldn’t find it in him to finish his sentence, but you didn’t notice. You were too busy wracking your brain for possible reasons as to why Namjoon would want to have you killed. Your lip trembled with horror. You feared Namjoon might be upset about what you did but, you didn’t expect this kind of reaction.

“B-but, how did…h-how does he know?” Jin sighed, unsure of how respond.

You shivered, partly because you were still in wet clothing and partly because the idea that you were never in control of this situation was too much to bear. You weren’t sure what to feel or what to think, but the only thing you were certain of was that you wanted this baby no matter what. You clutched at your stomach, vile filling your mouth.

“Y/N, you have to listen to me—” Jin reached out to you but you slapped his hand away.

“Don’t fucking touch me. You’re all sickos.” You sobbed, rubbing the goosebumps on your arms. “I have to get the fuck out of here.” You looked around frantically.

“Y/N! These guys aren’t going to let you leave so easily, please calm down before you draw attention to us!”

You turned to the boy whose urgent expression only made your suspicions grow. “Why are you saying all of this? They’re your friends. Why are you helping me?”

Jin pursed his lips in concern. “I…this has all gone too far. I didn’t know…I didn’t know how serious they were when they told me the stories about their camping trips I—I tried but I just can’t be a part of this.”

You stared back at him, searching his eyes for truth. You trusted Jin about as far as you could throw him, but right now you had no choice but to put your life in his hands.

“So, what should we do then? All of our stuff is in the cars and we’re too far away from civilization to leave on foot.” You tried to stifle the panic evident in your voice.

Jin nodded thoughtfully, “Yeah, these bastards know exactly what they’re doing. I’ve been trying to call for help since we got here but there isn’t any service for miles. There is, however, a highway a couple miles north from here, the same one we were on before we turned onto the trail. We can follow it back to town.”

As you nodded, you couldn’t shake the fear that overtook you, the realization of fleeing a fatal situation hitting you like a ton of bricks. You began crying again.

“Jesus Christ Y/N pull yourself together! Can you do this?” Jin grabbed you by the shoulders and shook you, looking into your eyes for resolve. You gasped, his words transporting you back a year when he last said them to you. “You need to follow the trail northwest, that’ll get you to the road.”

“W-wait. You’re not coming?”

“I can’t, they’ll know something’s definitely up if I we disappear together. They think I’m checking my phone right now, but it’s already been a while. I have to return to camp, but follow the trail and I’ll meet you at the end of it, okay? I have a plan. If I act fast enough, I might be able to steal the car keys and pick you up by the road.” You nodded frantically, wiping your tears with the back of your hand. “But Y/N, if I don’t show up by nightfall, you have to leave without me. Promise me you’ll go.” You nodded weakly, your lips trembling with unshed tears. “I need to hear you say it.”

“I will. If you don’t come by nightfall, I’ll leave.”

Jin sighed with relief yet the furow in his brow didn’t smooth out. “Okay, good. I’m leaving now. Don’t forget, follow the trail northwest.”

“Okay, I got it.” You watched the boy turn his back towards you and carefully head into the campsite. Namjoon greeted him frantically, unhappy to hear that Jin hadn’t run into you. Namjoon tugged on his locks, then placed his hands on his hips, his mind quickly forming a backup plan.

You retreated farther into the forest, not wanting to waste any time and risk being found, and you weren’t. You were able to find the trail that lead to the highway without an issue, it was your onset fever that made the trip tumultuous.

It started with sneezing, followed by more shivers, and then a killer stomach pain that had you leaning against trees for support. By the time you had reached the top of the mountain side, your vision was hazy and your forehead hot to the touch. You were so weak and barely able to walk that the lest trek up the hill took much longer than it should’ve.

You realized you were becoming delirious as you broke out into the middle of the road, missing a car by mere inches. Its horn blared in your eardrums and the lights blinded you momentarily, causing you to stumble out of the street and onto the metal railing that lined the highway.

There was nowhere to stand on safely and wait for Jin, so you retreated back into the trees and watched each car that drove by while trying to blink tears away. The air licked at your exposed limbs harshly, the weather feeling like the dead of winter despite it being the middle of July. You were sweaty and dehydrated.

A car passed by every 5 minutes and as time dragged on, you grew more and more helpless, worrying that Jin wasn’t coming at all. You considered the possibility of having to make the trip home on your own, something you hadn’t let yourself think of because you were too afraid of worst-case scenarios. Besides, you wouldn’t make it far in your condition.

But as the sun descended and the cars passed by less frequently, you mustered your resolve to begin walking the highway slowly, careful not to veer into traffic in your delirious state. Your trembling hand gripped the rails while the other clutched at your lower abdomen.

Just as you had made it a few yards from the clearing in the woods, 2 consecutive honks had you whipping your head behind you. The lights blinded you, but nonetheless you recognized Namjoon’s car approaching.

It slowed to a stop beside you and you climbed in shakily, closing the door and turning towards Jin. Except it wasn’t Jin, it was Namjoon. He looked at you and smiled, whistling his favorite tune as you stared back in horror. Suddenly his eyes darted downwards, and the sight had him frowning. You followed his gaze to notice all of the blood running down your legs for the first time. Namjoon had been right, as he always was. You had more to worry about than just yourself, and so you began sobbing, sagging against the worn-out cushion. Just like that, you were transported back to that fateful night in your bedroom, when Namjoon ignored you as you wept for many things outside of yourself.

[aeide-thea]

This is a gentle request for any Geraskier fics you want to rec, because the number of them in the tag is a bit overwhelming but I KNOW there are gems in there 👀

i’m pretty sure i’ve reblogged things in the past! but it’s true that i haven’t done that in any systematic way, so—let’s see. under the cut are 20-ish recs alphabetized by author, which seemed like a good way of avoiding having to make any hierarchical declarations:

o, empathy by almostnectarine/@nectarine-pit: bodyswap! i forgot how much i loved this fic. geralt and jaskier walk a mile in each other’s shoes, and learn to appreciate each other better; this is keenly observed and thought-through, and frequently extremely funny. a thoroughgoing delight.

Jaskier pulled a face and swiveled the straps such that both swords almost fell from their scabbards at once, ruining the moment. “Geralt,” he said, “this leather itches. You’ve lived five lifetimes—” “Not that old,” said Geralt, in protest, and then, considering: “Maybe three.” “—and you never once thought, hm— oh, I see why you do that all the time, it is quite fun, isn’t it— hm, maybe I’ll add a little padding?!” His mimicry of Geralt’s tone was very good, although perhaps it was cheating, when the voice was already the same.

public displays of affection by autoschediastic/@bluesoaring: geralt and jaskier go to a sex party! (not to be confused with the other fic by sospes in which geralt and jaskier go to a sex party, which is also excellent.) if that wasn’t enough of a sell, well, you confuse me, but—the flavor of the power dynamic here is a little complex and unusual in a way i enjoyed, plus frankly the description of geralt stripped down for this party is really, uh. really A Lot. i admit to being biased in favor of sex party stories in general but this one is definitely a keeper.

to you always, also by autoschediastic/@bluesoaring: in which geralt is a demanding, insatiable bottom. ...honestly, this fic has significantly more emotional weight to it than that description might suggest, but i still stand by it. also the initial setup is just really funny to me, because jaskier getting hilariously outraged by geralt’s sheer infuriating geralt-ness is, like, my fave flavor of jaskier. (that’s a lie, every flavor of jaskier is my favorite flavor of jaskier, but i do really delight in this one.)

@blossomsinthemist’s mixing memory and desire series (wip) is basically my favorite thing ever, like, just truly perfectly crafted to please me personally. it’s h/c, and just astonishingly luxuriant and languorous and lovely—or, okay, let me actually just quote a comment i left on an early chapter:

this is just so exquisitely tender and molasses-lovely-sweet so far, my god the glimpses we get dimly through geralt’s hazy bemused perception of what jaskier’s feeling are so heart-clenchingly poignant—and then of course the glimpses of what geralt himself is feeling for jaskier without understanding it, this stunned rapt gratitude for everything jaskier is doing but also everything jaskier is, the lovely gentle sturdy solicitous gift he is & keeps making of himself to geralt, who would probably call it undeserved except that of course we can see precisely what in geralt has tugged this tenderness from jaskier, this terrible aching wounded gallantry that’s so astonished to meet with respite…

the meet death sitting (wip) series by @bomberqueen17 is my other favorite thing—much plottier than the previous, with a much wider cast of characters, and while i’m ultimately in it for the geralt/jaskier and therefore being strung along in exquisite agony while all sorts of plot things get in the way of any real resolution of that, it’s honestly worth it; what you lose in immediate gratification you gain in, like, a sense that this story inhabits a real, full world, with real events that aren’t just arranged to suit our heroes’ convenience. if i could only get you to read two things it would be this series and the previous one: between them they have my heart. anyway i guess i may as well quote myself again:

it’s the rich realistic interweaving of things that’s so remarkable here, how the absolute throat-thickening aches run abruptly up against the entirely mundane and all of it has to be coped with, because that’s life, and this story has life within it, in a realer way than probably anything else in the fandom, maybe anything else i’ve read in a long time. and of course a large part of me is so, so desperate for geralt and jaskier to finally come back together, with enough time and space to settle into a mutual secure tenderness instead of the current wordless, longing, poised-always-to-spring-away-like-deer-in-a-forest situation; but the story is coaxing me into a more adult patience, an appreciation for the smaller quieter incidental pleasures that aren’t the one subsuming great love, and then also teaching me to live with the wounds one inevitably acquired along the way, the pull and ache of those that makes the whole thing real, not a shining fantasy but a homely pie with a rich satisfying filling, savory and bolstering.

my body bruises at your touch by @brawlite: jaskier gets tied up by geralt as bait for the monster of the week, and discovers he likes it quite a bit. smut (and then aftercare) ensues.

demand an encore (wip) by emamel/@theaceace: jaskier is a witcher of the viper school, or used to be. he doesn’t remember it, but geralt does.

it’s been a while since i read this, but the way the layers slowly start fitting together is really satisfying: all the joy of what i think the kids call ‘identity porn,’ with the twist that here, it’s geralt who knows both identities, and jaskier who’s still in ignorance. ugh, i want chapter 3 now.

musica universalis by flirtygaybrit is bookverse and clearly so—it’s not romantic, but there’s a particular ambiguous flavor of solicitous tenderness that elevates this ‘friendly drunken hookup’ scenario to something memorable for me.

of cherries and dandelions by heyriel: in which a still-virginal jaskier bites off more than he can chew, and tries to disguise it until he can’t anymore. as i said to the author:

this is lovely and realistic in its navigation of, like, trying to Be Cool and the ways that can sometimes get you in trouble as a young sexplorer—geralt is so good to jaskier here and i’m having feelings about it!

also geralt uses a dildo on jaskier, which was not a thing i’d known i wanted before reading this, but it turns out i’m very decidedly here for it! i haven’t seen a ton of sex toys in geraskier fic and this story makes me wish there were more.

gentle-sharp and strange by lisztful has some excellent touch-starved pining geralt, also a performatively public bath scene with very satisfactory sexual tension, also an Ancient Tradition which is maybe the thing i remember most about this fic.

i know that you would want it (if i could sink my teeth into you) by objectlesson is... look, there’s an actual emotional arc to this story, but really what i always remember about it is that it’s got the most overwhelmingly visceral rimming scene i’ve maybe ever read? it’s a lot, it’s a gift, go read it.

@pasdecoeur has several stories that are very funny with some very piercingly erotic moments! briefly sketched in some ways and more pining than porny but no less effective for it.

benefits by @shastafirecracker is a pwp story in which jaskier is first surprised to find geralt wants him to top, and then determined to give geralt the best dicking he’s ever had. jaskier’s inner dialogue in this one is really fun; geralt’s exterior dialogue is true to the show in that it’s minimal but nonetheless includes a bad pun. :)

even a small love by shecrows/@leighway is like. you think you know how things are going to go, and then jaskier balks and it abruptly swerves sideways and develops a whole plot, and then comes back around to where it started, but deeper and better. don’t you love how you can summarize a fic without saying anything meaningful or even helpful about it? anyway: read this one.

snowmelt by silklace/@silkcoeur is a/b/o and somehow both extremely hilarious and extremely hot in full measure. the banter is a fucking delight but so are the tension/sex/feelings.

It wasn’t until they were well on the road away from town that it really hit him, though possibly he should have been paying attention to the way the backs of his knees had started sweating the minute he’d seen Geralt walking towards him outside of Yennefer’s manor, or to the way his throat had gone hot and dry despite the taste of sweetness still on the back of his teeth from the wine skin he’d pilfered from her pantry on his way out. In his defense, he’d still been recovering from spending the prior evening steadfastly spitting his insides up onto his outsides. Also, he tended to always get a little sweaty around Geralt, a fact they were both apparently extremely united in assiduously pretending was not happening.

the sevenfold path by star_flaming/@europeansdomusicalsbetter: in which jaskier is demonstrably extremely well educated, and geralt has feelings about it. (i also have feelings about it, but mine are in my pants.)

you are in my blood by @suzukiblu​: au where jaskier is a bruxa. this alters his character significantly—hard to be too skittish about bloodletting when you’re a vampire!—but the story’s so engaging you probably won’t care? plus, uh, hot. :)

Jaskier’s just debating how much trouble he’s actually in when Geralt, marvelously, talks them out of it. After that, well... Jaskier still wants to eat him very badly, but he supposes it’d be a bit ungrateful of him. Geralt isn’t very impressed with the song he writes for him, unfortunately—which, rude—but doesn’t try to run off and leave him either, so.. Well, Jaskier’s a bit smitten. A delicious-smelling witcher who can talk his way out of being murdered is very impressive. And he always has wanted a pet.

taran (@iamtaran)’s manhandling without plot series has no sex but lots of violent, compellingly visceral hijinks and i like to think of it as preslash. three times geralt hauls jaskier out of trouble.

Jaskier is flat on his back with his chemise rucked up to his armpits, salve burning on his bruised ribs, breathing hard; he is drunk, but not nearly as drunk as he was when he threw that first punch; Geralt is stupidly strong and has him pinned beneath one hand and the sheer girth of his own hips, looking grumpy and short on patience, and under everything—the aromatic menthol and chamomile smell of the salve, the aching of his cheek and lip, the relief of seeing Geralt just as upright and uninjured as he had been when he left, Jaskier is… He had thought he was furious. He still is, somewhat. Like… like a seed is a flower. It was, at first, before it became something else. And given enough time it might become such again. It is what it is in the meantime, however. Fury. Seeds.

last but not least, @toyhto​ has a bunch of fics that crack me the fuck up: geralt is unbelievably oblivious to his own emotions even as he acts on them, and it’s just—it’s so, so funny. also sometimes quite sweet, and sometimes quite painful! there’s a particular air of, i don’t know, almost see-spot-run impenetrability to the writing here that lends itself perfectly to the thing the stories are doing, where geralt is just operating totally on a surface level and, like, feelings are moving in the deep but he can’t quite see them...

...and that’s all for now! more to come later, maybe; but this seems like plenty for a first pass, and anyway i’m blurbed out.

[stray-kz]

zombie apocalypse!skz

words: 824

so the zombies come

and chan, jisung, and changbin are at the studio

there are no windows to indicate that any time has passed at all, but with every passing second chan’s eyelids start to feel heavier and heavier, and with every blink it’s getting  harder and harder to open his eyes again

so yes

it’s kinda late

if there were any windows, perhaps one of them would have seen the fires that had begun to burn in the distance —caused by cars whose drivers desperately tried to swerve past the undead that had begun to pour into the streets, but swerved into each other instead— painting the night sky an ominously dark orange

the studio is a quiet place, so quiet in fact, that when three phones simultaneously rang with alerts from the government, it’s as if bombs had gone off

chan yanks the headphones off his head and reaches for his phone with his heart beating a mile a minute

jisung and changbin are no better

chan almost dismisses the apocalypse

and by that i mean, the fact that his phone had rung with a government alert completely goes over his head and he swipes it away

thankfully the other two have enough sense not to do that

and it’s only when changbin shouts holy shit and jisung starts shaking that chan asks one of them to let him see what the alert had been about

that’s how he learns that the world has gone to shit

suddenly the darkness beyond the small glass window of their little studio, which had never bothered them before, seems... hostile

chan tells himself that they’d hear it if zombies had broken into the building

but with how preoccupied the three of them had been with creating their next album, there’s a small part of him that’s unsure

and all it takes is a tiny seed of doubt to grow into a whole fucking tree of uncertainty that sets him on edge to make the whole room descend into a barely contained panic

“hyung, what are we gonna do?” jisung asks, his voice strained 

chan’s honest with them, because he can see that changbin is looking to him too for answers that he doesn’t have

“i don’t know guys, i don’t know.”

but what he does know is that there are still 6 other boys he has no clue about

and in the hours they had spent oblivious in the studio, said boys had already gone back to their dorm

where tv’s and phones could alert them to the situation before the government had to step in and declare that shit had officially hit the fan

chan dials woojin’s number, and is equal parts relieved and surprised when he hears the line begin to ring

the cellphone towers haven’t fallen yet

woojin realizes that when his phone begins to chime with the familiar ringtone he’s set for chan’s number

which is almost lost in the din of noise that surrounds them

they’re outside 

woojin, the other members, and everybody else that lived in their building, waiting for buses that were supposed to take them to evacuation centres

and had already been delayed for hours

woojin doesn’t know if it’s the hysteria of being in an ocean of people barely keeping it together, but he could have sworn that as the minutes stretched into hours and the buses stayed nowhere in sight, the faint groaning of... several somethings in the distance grew louder and louder

for the sake of everyone’s mind, woojin hopes against hope that it is, and decides against asking anyone else if they could hear their impending doom too

that’s when the buses arrive

hold your sighs of relief though

the buses arrive, 2 out of 3 of them are on the fire, and the third one doesn’t even have a driver

it would have been funny if it didn’t mean that they’re royally fucked

at least the buses don’t crash into them, woojin thinks

they’re all too stunned to completely move away, and his skin prickles with the heat emanating from the burning metal as it somehow drives past them

his eyebrows might’ve gotten singed too, but at the moment that’s the least of his worries

“back inside the building.”

woojin grabs the boys one by one

shaking them out of their stupors and pushing them past the equally surprised crowd

“hyung wait!”

they’re in the lobby, and seungmin’s voice echoes around the eerily empty room

“shouldn’t we be trying to get to safety? sooner or later that fire’s gonna get to us!”

“what, with only the clothes on our backs? let’s get back to the dorm and pack a backpack at least. we don’t even know if there’s any safety left.”

nobody knows how to reply to that

that’s when it all becomes real for them

as if everything up until that moment had only been a dream— a nightmare more like

[javocjovian]

Dress for Success, SPN Bingo Short

Title: Dress for Success Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17444402/chapters/41073575 Square Filled: Clothing Sharing Ship: Destiel Rating: E Tags: Destiel, Clothing Sharing Kink, Castiel in Dean’s clothes, Dean in Castiel’s clothes, fucking on the job, Top Dean/Bottom Castiel, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Summary: Sam tells Dean and Castiel that they have to wear clothes at all time. He didn’t say whose clothes they have to wear. Dean and Castiel discover they rather enjoy each other wearing their clothes. Word Count: 1598

Created for @spnkinkbingo

Quote:

That’s when Sam reappeared, “Okay. New rule.” Dean rolled his eyes, “Clothes. You have to wear clothes. Both of you. All the time! I don’t care what you do behind closed doors but...” He sighed exasperatedly, “In the kitchen? C’mon.” He said, then left without another word.

Dress for Success

Sam knew Dean and Castiel were fucking. They’d never told him, per se, but Sam knew. And it wasn’t because of any brotherly bond crap. It was because of clothing. Or rather, a lack of it.

It started with Castiel. 

Sam was used to Castiel doing weird things in the bunker. Said things included but were not limited to, making pb and j’s and not eating them, reading books backwards, filling the coffee pot with honey, opening every single door in the bunker, and of course, walking around at night completely naked. The first time Sam caught him, he slopped tea all over his front. He took a steadying breath and politely informed Castiel that humans do not do this.

Then there was Dean.

Dean was the one who made Sam think it was all in his head. Dean always acted completely normal, until one night when Sam making tea.

Sam was walking out of the kitchen when Castiel passed him, butt-naked once again. Sam caught his tea and reminded Castiel that clothes exist and should be worn at all times. A half hour later, Sam was bringing his dishes back to the kitchen and found Dean drinking orange juice from the carton, standing in front of the refrigerator. Also naked. Sam shouted in surprise.

“What the hell, Dean?” Sam gawked at him.

Dean paused, then shrugged and finished the carton off.

“You can’t… just. Oh god.” 

“God has left the building, Sammy.”

“Clearly.” Sam skirted around him like he was contagious and dropped his dishes in the sink.

“Hey, the human body is nothing to ashamed of. It’s a thing of beauty.” Dean informed him, “Don’t censor me.”

“I’m not, I…!” Sam blinked furiously, determinedly looking Dean in the eye, “I’m going to bed.”

“Fine.” Dean replied cheerily, “Goodnight.”

But before Sam could leave the kitchen, he bumped into Castiel in the doorway. Castiel wearing an old AC/DC shirt and jeans, and was barefoot. Sam and Dean both stared at him. It was just as jarring, if not more so, than walking in on someone naked.

“Hello, Sam.” Castiel said. He looked to Dean and, like Sam, found himself staring. Except Castiel’s eyes fell straight down, “Dean.” He greeted him stiffly.

Dean didn’t seem to care. He was in a daze. He’d never seen Castiel wearing those kind of clothes. His clothes.

“Cas that’s...” Sam started, “That’s not really what I meant...”

Castiel and Dean both ignored him.

Sam took a sharp breath, looking between them, “Mhm. Uh, um.” His expression fell, “Nope, not touching this. Goodnight.” He strode past Castiel and disappeared down the hall.

Dean cleared his throat and Castiel finally looked up.

“You should wear my stuff more often...” Dean said shakily, “Like, seriously. That’s fucking hot.”

Castiel squinted at him.

That’s when Sam reappeared, “Okay. New rule.” Dean rolled his eyes, “Clothes. You have to wear clothes. Both of you. All the time! I don’t care what you do behind closed doors but...” He sighed exasperatedly, “In the kitchen? C’mon.” He said, then left without another word.

Dean winked at Castiel.

Sam’s knowledge of Dean and Castiel’s relationship didn’t seem to hinder them at all. In fact, neither Winchester got much sleep that night.

Castiel sensed that the clothes thing was one of those ‘kinks’ Dean never clearly expressed but obviously enjoyed, so Castiel started wearing his shirts under his suits when they went out. On one particularly messy werewolf hunt, Castiel got injured and tore his suit. While Dean was fixing him up, he noticed his old Metallica shirt peaking out from beneath Castiel’s ripped button up. Dean froze.

They were in a dilapidated cabin deep in the words. Sam was out securing the perimeter. Castiel’s chest was heaving from the fight and he was flushed and roughed up. Combined with him secretly wearing Dean’s shirt, Dean couldn’t help himself. Once Castiel was bandaged, Dean jumped him. Soon Castiel’s suit things were on the floor and he’d been stripped to that Metallica shirt with his dress pants around his knees, and Dean was fucking him into the cabin floor.

It took a lot of practice to get good at fucking Castiel. Fortunately, Dean had a lot of practice. He knew exactly how fast and hard to thrust to get Castiel to start panting. Then he’d find that spot and Castiel would shudder and close his eyes. Once he started moaning Dean’s name and arching his back, Dean knew he was in the clear. He reared up and took control, working his hips rough and fast, twisting his hand over the hand of Cas’s leaking cock.

Sam heard Castiel shouting from a mile away and sprinted back to the cabin. All Dean heard was the door slamming open, a shotgun cocking, and then Sam sputtering in disbelief.

“Really? Goddamnit, Dean!” Sam exclaimed.

Dean covered their waists with the trench coat, “Five minutes, Sam, please.”

“Unbelievable.” Sam walked away, “I’m going to go burn my eyes out with holy fire.”

“Sam, no.” Castiel panted.

“He’s kidding.” Dean said, resuming his thrusts.

Castiel groaned and dropped his head on the floor.

“No, I’m not!” Sam’s voice shouted.

“Shut the door!” Dean yelled back, “Pervert!”

There was a flustered, indignant noise as Sam slammed the door shut and waited with his shotgun outside. 

“Great plan, Dean.” Sam muttered to himself, “If another werewolf comes I’ll just tell them to form a queue. ‘Your murder is very important to us.’” Sam huffed, “Once my brother’s done getting ass we’ll be right with you.”

The next few hours were spent killing werewolves. By the time they were done the whole pack had been extinguished, and even Sam had to admit that Dean and Castiel were in rare form. So Sam decided he’d give them a break; that and start entering rooms with a hand over his eyes.

When they returned to the bunker Dean went to his room to get cleaned up and Sam started the laundry. He was able to get all of the blood stains out of Castiel’s suit, plus a stain Sam refused to let Castiel explain. They hadn’t been able to find the trenchcoat he’d been wearing, however, so Castiel went looking for it in Dean’s room. He found it. 

On Dean.

Dean was sprawled out on his bed, naked except for the coat which he wore like a robe. An open robe.

“Oh hey.” Dean said, “Were you… looking for something?” He feigned looking around.

A smile tugged at Castiel’s lips. He licked his lips and joined Dean on the bed. Dean grinned.

Dean was pleased to see a fire in Castiel’s eyes as he drank in the sight before him. Castiel smoothed his hands up Dean’s body, from his thighs to his shoulders, tracing every line and muscle framed so perfectly by that open coat. Castiel’s coat.

“That’s...” Castiel rasped, “That’s not how you’re supposed to wear it.”

Dean closed his eyes and smiled, “You don’t seem to mind.” He could already feel Castiel’s growing erection pressing into his leg.

Castiel couldn’t deny that. Castiel stripped while Dean idly stroked himself, something he knew drove Castiel wild. Sure enough, once Castiel was naked he settled between Dean’s legs, captured Dean’s hands, and pinned them above his head.

Dean felt a jolt of arousal. He loved it when Castiel got like this. 

Dean let Castiel fuck him in his trench coat, and was thrilled to find that Castiel took his time. Castiel was normally all instinct and passion when he topped, but tonight was different. Tonight he wanted to claim Dean; He wanted to mark him on the inside as completely as his trenchcoat did on the outside.

“Dean...” Castiel growled his name, “I think I understand now.”

“Do you?” Dean breathed. It took all his strength to speak with Castiel fucking the breath out of him. He didn’t bottom often, but when he did it reminded him just how awesome it was sleeping with an angel. Castiel was a force of nature, raw and powerful, ravaging Dean over and over again.

Castiel nodded, pupils blown and lips parted, “It’s… ‘fucking hot’.” He rasped. He swerved his hips and angled a thrust into Dean’s prostate. Dean moaned shamelessly. Castiel felt a rush of satisfaction as Dean’s witty retort fell apart on his lips. He wove their fingers together above Dean’s head, then proceeded to fuck him senseless for hours.

That night, Sam put on rain sounds before bed. He’d asked to borrow Dean’s noise canceling headphones earlier and, to his surprise, Dean complied readily. Sam tried not to think about it as he fell asleep.

In the morning, Sam was surprised to find Dean awake first. He was sipping coffee and sitting funny at the Men of Letter’s table, looking oddly at peace with the world. Sam poured himself a cup and joined Dean in silence.

“So...” Sam spoke up.

Dean glanced at him.

“How was your night?”

“Shut up.”

Sam smiled, “So, you realize that you’re… um. You and Cas. You know...”

Dean was barely awake, but he knew where this was going, “Don’t say it.”

“...’Destiel’.” Dean stared at Sam. Sam was trying, and failing, to hold back a grin. Finally, Dean cracked a smile, “Yeah. I know.”

They shared a mutual silence, both of them smiling to themselves.

“We should make bumper stickers.”

“No.” Dean said firmly.

Sam didn’t say another word. After all, what more could he want for his brother? And maybe, just maybe, the clothing thing was kind of cute. Kind of.

[cycling-lane]

Smoking Gun

@jonxsansafanfiction Twelve Days of Shipping, Day Two. Spies AU / Keeping Each Other Warm Trope

In which Sansa turns out to be a killing machine, and Jon knows he shouldn’t find that as hot as hell. He still does, though. 

Rated M

“Spread your legs.”

“Excuse me?” 

Jon gives her an incredulous look, but Sansa just rolls her eyes. “We’re being followed. Spread your legs.”

“I don’t- Oi!” Her best friend lets out a rather undignified shriek when she stabs a knife between his legs, slices the leather car seat open and retrieves a gun. “What the-”

“Here.” She pushes it in his hands. “Black 4x4, behind us. Just aim and shoot.”

Jon’s mind is running a mile a minute, but still fails to catch up. His best friend -Robb’s baby sister, smart, funny Sansa, who never has a hair out of place and works at an animal shelter… Hides guns in her car seats? Gets followed by men in black?

“Don’t tell me you’re an assassin,” he manages to get out, just as she hits the accelerator and drifts through a corner. It’s a weak joke at best, and it does absolutely nothing to calm his nerves.

“A spy.”

Jon opens his mouth to ask another question, but their persuitors start shooting before he can. A bullet pierces the rear windshield, grazes past his ear, and puts a perfect little ‘o’ in the dashboard. 

“Fudge.” Even when their lives are threatened, Sansa doesn’t curse. 

Instead, she grasps the gun out of Jons hands, looks over her shoulder and shoots two perfectly-aimed bullets at the black 4x4. The first one hits the driver in the chest, the second one deflates a front tire. She quickly focuses on the road again, just in time to swerve to the side and dodge a rusty Volvo. 

Jon can’t help but gape at her. Her face is flushed, her red lips parted, her blue eyes fiery and determined. 

He probably shouldn’t find her as hot as hell right now, but Gods -she just shot a somebody without as much as a flutter of her eyelashes. She races through the streets of London like if they’re in Grand Theft Auto. He’s been in love with her for three years.

If the situation wasn’t so fucked up, and if she hadn’t been behind the wheel, Jon would have jumped her right then and there. 

As it is, he closes his gaping mouth and looks at the bullet hole in front of him. “I, uh-” he begins, cut off when a second 4x4 slides up next to them. He can see the clear outline of a man in the backseat, pointing his gun at Sansa. 

Oh, fuck no. 

Before Jon knows it, he has taken Sansa’s gun and fired off another two shots -killing both the driver and the assassin with a bullet right through the middle of their head.

When he looks back to her, she is regarding him with a mix of surprise, admiration, and… Is that lust? 

“Right,” Jon nods, swallowing thickly. “I think we need to talk.”

Ahh. To continue or not to continue with this ‘verse? I’m kind of tempted…

[riverballad]

when the damn thing breaks i’ll be there to take you home

(chapter 1/4)

ko-fi

read on ao3

Jason returns to Gotham in a rusted up, Barbie-pink RV. What ensues is possibly the most dysfunctional 33 hour-long road trip in history.

They hear the damn thing before they can make out its figure, blaring quick and bright into their line of view; it shudders up the driveway’s curved incline and splutters to a halt in front of Wayne Manor with an almost theatric expulsion of smoke.

It’s gaudy and garish and, quite frankly, garbage, but it’s enough to make the corner of Bruce’s mouth tilt upward, his figure a looming shadow from his perch in the upstairs study, expression obscured by tightly-drawn curtains and a carefully held cup of coffee.

Now, the others would question him about it--or, more accurately, berate him-- if they didn’t know any better. But Jason is, well, as Jason as ever, brows pulled low in a perma-scowl, hand curled precariously near the holster of his gun, and Dick knows enough about Jason and cars and Jason-and-cars to make the others hold their collective tongue. That is, in front of the kid.

But behind one’s back, the gang had long-since established, mockery was fair game.

Thus, as to be expected, when Jay finally enters the residence, it’s to a sharp hush followed shortly thereafter by a shoddy attempt at silence as the others muffle giggles into shirtsleeves or between folded lips. Jason’s boots echo defiantly against the shining marble floor.

“Master Jason!” Alfred exclaims, in mock-astonishment, as though he hadn’t heard the kid rumble up from half a mile away. “This is a pleasant surprise, indeed.”

“Hey, Alfred,” Jason says, visibly loosening. His features brighten ever-so slightly before returning to their instinctive frown which can best be described as something close to a frown as they make their way past the foyer. His vision settles on his three brothers who, gathered on separate couches in the sitting room, each sit with unnaturally-stiff postures, mouths tight and shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter.

Jason narrows his eyes as the silence stretches out before the four of them in a long, torturous line until, finally, one of them speaks.

“You are,” Damian says in place of a greeting, “not dead.”

Behind him, Tim sniggers. When he sees his older brother’s dark eyes flit towards him, he coughs, lamely, into his fist. Nice save.

“Correction: I’m not dead yet.” Jason says wryly, shoving his hands into the pockets of his ratty jacket. The brown leather creaks. Tim lets out another loud cough that sounds suspiciously like “Day’s not over.”

“Hey,” Dick says, rising from the velvety chaise before Jason can swat at the third Robin. He claps a hand over his younger brother’s shoulder and grins toothily in his direction. “So, Barbie. How’s Ken?”

There’s a beat. Then, as if possible, Jason’s frown deepens even more. As his eyebrows lower, behind them, Tim cackles violently.

“Y’know what? Whatever.” Jason shrugs deeper into his jacket. ("Security blanket, much?” Steph would tease him when she saw him in it later.) “Whatever. When you're all finished with your little bit, make sure everyone gets in the car.”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It’s ability to cram all seven of them into the dingy space leaves Tim and Steph insisting, loudly, that Jason’s new ride is a “clown car.” (“It’s true,” Dick corroborates impishly. Jason’s grip on the steering wheel tightens, but the man stays silent.)

“Okay, when I said ‘make sure everyone gets in the car’, I meant like you and Alfred and maybe the new one.” Jason says to Dick, jabbing a thumb to his right at Duke, when everyone’s already wearing their seat belts.

From the front row’s passenger seat-- which Duke had wrestled from Damian’s furious grip on the basis of “One who calls shotgun first, gets shotgun. That’s, like, in The Bible”-- Duke deadpans, “Uh, thanks for that glowing invitation, man.”

“No problem, kid.” Jay shoots back with an identical tone.

After a beat, Duke inquires, “So….wait. Where are we going exactly? And with, uh, a lump sum of zero luggage.?”

“If this is a mission,” Cass pipes up from the back of the vehicle, speaking for the first time since they merged onto the freeway almost an hour ago, “I agree with Thomas: we are unprepared for this. I don’t even have my suit.”

“Me neither.” Tim seconds, absently, without lifting his gaze from its fixed position on the cards in his hands. When he catches Damian sneaking a peek from his side of the small table, Tim glowers, pulling the cards-- which seem to be the entire Uno deck-- closer to his chest.

“We’re not going on a mission.” Jason grinds out.

“Okay. Right. But, like, if we were to maybe , hypothetically be going on a mission,” Tim says as he draws four from the deck, “then we’d maybe , hypothetically needs to swing back by the Manor to get our gear.”

“We are not going on a mission .” Jason repeats. Dick snores loudly from the seat behind him.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“So-- wait. We’re going on a mission?” Steph cries excitedly when she wakes with a start hours later. They’ve reached a particularly hilly stretch of road and the RV, in all its “old-and-gold glory” (Dick’s words) shakes like “an insufferable animal” (Damian’s. “ Pot, meet kettle ,” Jason had countered.).

“No .” Everyone snaps immediately.

“Again,” Jason sighs. “We. Are. Not. Going. On. A. Mission.”

The man’s shoulders relax ever-so-slightly, a shift in demeanor imperceptible to everyone other than Dick who leans over the center console and whispers, “Jay. Psst, Jason .”

“Hmm?” Jason hums, his eyes fluttering a little in an effort to keep them open. The RV swerves as it’s driver fights the heavy exhaustion that pulls at his limbs.

“Let me drive.”

“Really, Todd. Who knew you’d be as bad at driving as you are at combat.” Damian snarks, lifting his head from the red neck pillow Cass had convinced him to wear after Jason had slipped her ten bucks. She wasn’t one to side with Todd, really, but she’d gotten sick of Damian dropping his heavy head on her shoulder.

“Oh my God, Shut up .” Jason moans, slurring his words a little.

“You first.”

“Christ, y’all are weird.” Duke says wearily. “I’m not tryin’ to get in a crash here, Jason. C’mon, Let Dick drive.”

“Seriously.” Steph mumbles, still half-asleep. Jason shoots her his best attempt at a menacing look in the rearview mirror (which fails spectacularly; his eyelids, despite his best efforts, droop heavy and low over his eyes).

“Ugh, Fu-- fine! Jesus.” Jason surrenders finally, pulling the RV to the road’s rough gravel shoulder, causing the entire vehicle to rattle as he shifts into park and undoes his seat belt. He sags a little before wrestling with the car door, and steps out to the rush of sticky-sweet humidity of western Pennsylvania. A road sign, bright green against the darkening sunset, tells them they’re 50-some miles from Pittsburgh. Dick steps out too, shouldering past his weary brother and into the driver’s seat as Jason collapses into the backseat.

“Any of you guys gotta pillow or something? My back’s killing me.” Jay asks, turning his head behind him to look at the others. Damian pulls his neck pillow closer round himself, his eyes narrowing. Cass is sleeping soundly, cheek pressed against the window. Tim and Steph fiddle on their phones silently, bodies hunched over the small table.

“Wow, great. Thanks guys, you’re a real help.” Jay says wryly, starting to turn back around. He winces-- his neck’s been at a weird angle all drive, he realizes-- and grits his teeth.

“Hey, Jason? You’ve got a GPS or something?” Duke calls back to him, “Dick and I are kinda driving blind here.”

“Just-- uh, just stay on I-80 West,” Jay replies groggily, “That’s gonna be another 300-something miles.”

At this, there is what can only be described as “mass hysteria”.

“What?” Tim, Dick, and Steph cry.

“Oh, shut up.” Jay says, closing his eyes again and curling against the door. Out the window and obscured by a row of tall and wide atlas cedars, the sky burns in soft reds, oranges, and yellows. It kind of looks, Jason thinks as he drifts to sleep, like how he used to mix up Trix yogurt when he was a kid.

Suddenly, smack in the middle of the night, Jason jolts awake. It’s dark out now, and the once-deserted freeway is now alive with the bright tail lights of cars. They’re as good as parked now; the traffic is so dense that there’s no use wasting the car’s battery or gas to move two inches a minute. Inside the RV things are equally as hectic: Damian who, having somehow wrangled the front seat from Duke’s insistent grasp, is tossing insults at Tim with incomprehensible speed and fervor.

“Oh, yeah? That’s what I thought you’d say, you tiny fucking demon!” Tim throws back.

“Hey, language!” Dick absently chastises from the driver’s seat, eyes fixed on the book he’s reading. The RV jostles forward and stops once more just as quickly.

“Literally wha-?” Jay tries, but it’s drowned out in the chaos of the moment.

“Hey, both of you! Shut up !” Jay yells. They stop for all of three seconds (Jason counts) before they tumble back together in a mess of fists and kicks and shouts. Part of Jason is urging himself to step in-- they’re just kids, after all. They could get hurt. Or, a possibility as pressing to Jason, they could screw up the car. Somehow. Who knows with the two of them. On the other hand, they both deserve it for how obnoxious they’ve been since-- well, forever . But before Jay can decide whether or not to act, the two of them break apart with a yelp.

“He-- shit ! Damain bit me!” Tim shrieks, clutching at his forearm with melodramatic flurry.

“Well it’s not my fault you’re a bastard !” Damian retorts, his voice rising. The way his arms are folded across his chest makes the child look infinitesimally smaller. (Sometimes Jay really forgets the little Devilspawn is, well, a kid ).

“Ha, funny coming from you !” Tim spits back, with so much anger that Jason, despite all his confusion, feels laughter bubble up in his throat.

“Wow. I hate both of you. So much--” Jason says finally, staring fixedly out the window.

“Hey--” Tim starts.

“So. Much.” He finishes, “ Anyway, where are we? And what time is it?”

“Maybe you need a watch, Todd.” Damian offers unhelpfully, settling-- with much contempt-- back into his seat.

“Seat belt, Damian.” Dick orders, like the goody-two-shoes he is, as Jay is telling Damian that well maybe he should go ahead and die. “You too.” Grayson adds a moment later without looking around to check. Jason grumpily complies, opening his mouth to re-ask his question before Duke steps in to supply an answer.

“Eleven-something o’ clock and we are in,” He peeks down at his phone screen, which casts a pale blue glow across his face in the darkness. “...Indianapolis? Yeah, Indianapolis.”

“Great, we’re a third of the way there, then.” Jason declares, “And-- and my phone’s outta juice. Anyone got a charger.”

“No, ‘cause Drake broke the spare one.” Damian says roughly, his lower lip sticking out.

“Hey, what--"

"Anyway," Damian interjects with uncharacteristic (and suspicious) speed, "Grayson's hogging the spare.”

“You know as well as I do that the driver gets to pick the music!” Dick calls.

“Yeah, that’s, like, in The Bible .” Tim laughs, elbowing Duke in the stomach with bravado.

“Wait.” Jay interrupts, tearing his gaze up, “But there’s no music playing.”

“He tried to play “Dancing Queen” for the fourth time in a row . Then he ,” Tim says, jabbing a thumb in Damian’s direction, “ripped the AUX cord in half.”

“I don’t recall.” Damian says snootily, uncrossing and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Jay,” Dick interrupts once more, turning in his seat to face the younger brother. “You mind telling me where we’re headed now? ‘Cause-- not that we’re gonna be moving anytime soon, it looks-- but I stay on I-80 we’ll be lost in corn country.”

“That’s the plan.” Jason says airily. “Actually, I’ll get behind the wheel, now.”

“You, like, just woke up.” Duke points out from beside him.

“Didn’t stop me from driving a shit-ton of miles earlier.”

“Wait,” a hushed voice interjects. Cass-- having woken sometime amidst the commotion-- stares groggily at her brothers, eyes struggling to stay open, her freshly-cropped hair a dark and messy halo around her head. Steph, still asleep, is curled into the other girl’s lap, legs askew. ( Steph-spreading , they’d dubbed it). “Can we swing by a motel or something? I’d like to sleep in a real bed.”

“Me too.” Tim chimes after, a sentiment soon echoed by the rest of the (conscious) group.

“Fine.” Jay relents, after much pestering.

[scifibi]

CONGRATS ON 1.K!!! I'd love to request a rebelcaptain drabble with the prompt "one of us is working nights and the other is working days and every time we see each other we are SUPER TIRED AND CRABBY but also I kind of miss you."

YOUR WISH IS MY COMMAND, KAT

(side note: i tweaked the prompt A TEENY BIT, hope you don’t mind too much!)

YOUR REBELCAPTAIN FIC:

[also on ao3]

At first, Cassian doesn’t think much of Jyn’s new job at the bar.

It’s miles better than her diner job in every way conceivable — better pay, shorter hours, friendlier clientele (although sometimes maybe too friendly, but that’s nothing Jyn can’t handle thanks to both her black belts). It’s a lot easier for her to tack on shifts to fit her class schedule, which she’s definitely going to appreciate, now that she’s on her very last semester of college.

Plus, Baze is there. Baze always seems to have some kind of weird calming effect on Jyn, which is odd only because the words “calm” and “Jyn” have probably never before been used in the same sentence by anyone on this planet, living or dead.

The best part is, they can keep hanging out with their friends at Baze’s bar without Jyn having to miss out on anything.

All in all, it’s a good arrangement.

That is, until Jyn actually starts working there.

“Eggs for one, then,” Cassian mutters to himself, dropping his free hand from the egg tray before closing the fridge door. Pretty much all of Jyn’s classes for this semester are afternoon ones, but for the past year or so they’ve been living together, she’s always gotten out of bed around the same time he does for work. 

Not that he minds or anything. He’s just used to their semi-routine of making breakfast together every morning, swerving and ducking lazily around each other as they pour coffee into mugs and shake cereal into bowls.

He supposes he can’t expect that to go on, now that Jyn’s going to be spending most of her nights at the bar, all the way till the wee hours of the morning.

No problem, he tells himself easily as he dumps his scrambled eggs onto a plate. Just get used to it.

“Hey,” Jyn says when he walks into the bar later that night, her brows raised in surprise. “What are you doing here?”

He slides into a stool at the counter. “What does everyone do here?”

She gives him a wry smile, waving at the mostly empty bar. “Nothing, apparently. It’s six P.M. on a Tuesday.“ 

He shrugs. "Just felt like a drink.”

“On a Tuesday?” she echoes skeptically, but she’s already moving to grab him his usual beer from the fridge behind her.

“I can drink on a Tuesday,” he says, a little defensively.

She scoffs lightly, sliding the beer into his palm with a rakish grin. “Sure you can.”

“Can’t watch that,” Cassian mutters to himself, flipping the channel. “Not this, either. Fuck, definitely not that.”

 He sighs, hitting the power button to turn the TV off before flinging the remote aside. He’s had the longest day at work, and now he can’t even watch any of his usual shows because he doesn’t want to skip ahead of Jyn.

It’s not that she’d asked him to wait for her to catch up, or anything. He just doesn’t want to accidentally spoil something for her. (Laugh if you want, but he has it on good authority that that’s how a good twelve percent of Kay’s friendships have ended.)

Blowing out another frustrated breath, he gets up, and pads into his bedroom. Time to find a book or something — that is, if he even still has one of those lying around.

“Something wrong?”

Cassian starts in his seat, blinking rapidly.

“What? No, I—” He clears his throat, taking his hand off his phone, the device lying silent and still on the table. “Nothing. Sorry, what were you saying?”

Bodhi gives him a funny look, like he’s trying to solve one of his elaborate math problems, or whatever kind of problems it is that engineers solve. “I was asking how Jyn likes the new gig at Jedha?” He shrugs, twirling a few strands of pasta onto his fork. “I texted her a few days ago, but she just replied me a couple hours ago. It was just two emojis, so I couldn’t really figure out what she meant. The thumbs-up one and the poop one. Kind of a mixed message there.”

“Oh, it’s good,” Cassian says, picking up his own fork to resume work on his own food. “Yeah, she’s good. She likes it, I think. I’ve dropped in a couple of times, she seems happy.”

“I’ve been meaning to do that, but work’s been so crazy,” Bodhi says, a hint of apologetic worry lacing his tone. “Was really looking forward to seeing you guys today, though. Shame about the extra shift.”

Cassian shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it. We all know Baze wouldn’t have asked unless he really needed the help, so—” He jumps at the sudden vibration of his phone, letting his fork practically clatter to his plate as he grabs for the flashing device. He scans the screen rapidly, letting out a short breath once he’s finished the short message.

“It’s Jyn,” he says to Bodhi, still reluctant to take his eyes off the screen. “She says sorry again for bailing on dinner. And that we have to make sure to get the panna cotta for dessert in her place.”

Bodhi smiles, watching as Cassian starts typing a reply. “Tell her we will.”

Cassian sets aside his phone once he’s done, exhaling cathartically like some invisible tension’s been relieved. He picks up his fork again and looks up, only to realise that Bodhi’s still smiling at him.

He pauses, unnerved. “… What?”

Bodhi shakes his head slowly. “Nothing. Just…” He blinks, his brows furrowing softly. “This must be hard for you.”

Cassian stares at him. “Huh?”

“Jyn’s job at the bar,” Bodhi explains, his smile widening. “I mean, she’s probably already there or staying late on campus by the time you get home from work." 

Cassian frowns, lowering his fork uncomfortably. "Well— yeah, but that’s not—”

“I’m guessing she doesn’t get up in the mornings anymore, either,” Bodhi continues, still smiling that smile. “Not till you’re out the door, at least. So you two probably don’t get to see each other all that often anymore. Or maybe not even at all.” He tilts his head. “That must be hard.”

In the ensuing silence that follows, Cassian can actually feel his tongue drying up in his mouth.

“Uh,” he rasps out. And then he lapses back into silence, unable to come up with any actual words.

Bodhi shrugs, apparently oblivious. “For roommates, I mean,” he says blithely, reaching for his beer. “You guys have gotten so close over the last year and everything.”

Relief washes over Cassian like an April shower, sudden and cool.

“Oh, right,” he says, trying to keep the note of gratefulness out of his voice. “Yeah, of course.”

It’s well past three in the morning when Cassian hears the front door squeak open.

The sound doesn’t wake him up every time, but on this particular night, he’s especially glad that it did. 

He hears the telltale spray of the shower come on, and he rolls over, burying a small smile into his pillow. Why is he smiling? It’s not like it’s a surprise. It’s not like Jyn’s ever gone anywhere other than home after her shifts.

It’s ridiculous. Why is he so happy?

A few minutes later, the door to the bedroom swings open. A soft light floods in from the hallway, but it’s snuffed out within moments with the click of a light switch. He listens to the sound of slow, careful fumbling in the dark — the closet door opening and closing, a towel running through wet hair, a quiet sniff followed by a muffled cough.

The mattress barely dips with the new weight introduced to it.

He reaches out, his soft smile stretching wider in the dark.

Jyn jerks in surprise at his arm winding around her waist.

“Fuck,” she whispers hoarsely, but her body’s already twisting towards his, eagerly shifting closer. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”

“No, you didn’t,” he lies easily, pressing a kiss to her temple before dipping lower to mouth at her jaw. Her hair is still damp from the shower. She’s usually too exhausted after work to dry it properly. It’s a terrible habit, but he buries his nose in it anyway, breathing in the light vanilla scent of her shampoo. “How was work?" 

"Got a lot of good tips tonight,” she half yawns, nuzzling into his neck. “Only had to kick out one drunk handsy bastard, so I’d give the night a nine out of ten.”

He sighs, lifting his arm so he can tuck it under her head. “Hope you didn’t make yourself liable for any medical fees.”

She shrugs. “Barely a light sprain. Some ice will fix him right up.” Another yawn overtakes her, her warm breath fanning over his collarbone. “How was dinner with Bodhi?”

“Good. He asked about you.”

“What about?”

“He had trouble deciphering your heavily coded text messages.”

She chuckles sleepily, her arm sliding over his chest to wrap around his middle. “I’ll send him a proper reply tomorrow. Words and everything.”

He smiles, his arm tightening around her affectionately. A calm, gentle sort of silence falls over them like a blanket, warm and comfortable.

Cassian takes a deep breath. “I think he knows.”

Jyn’s body stiffens against his. After a long beat, she pulls out of the crook of his neck, blinking hazily. “What?”

“About us,” he clarifies. 

That still feels so weird to say. ‘Us.’ It’s only been less than a month since they’d moved from ‘you and me’ to 'us’.

They haven’t even told anyone yet.

It’s the strangest, most wonderful kind of thrill he’s ever known.

“Oh.”

The smile fades from his lips. It’s rare that he’s unable to read Jyn’s tones and inflections, all her little nuances.

“I didn’t say anything,” he says, a little too quickly. “I mean, he was kind of vague about it. He probably doesn't— I don’t know, maybe I was just reading too much into—”

Jyn’s palm drags over his chest, rubbing a soothing circle through the thin cotton of his T-shirt.

“Cassian, it’s okay,” she laughs softly, pressing back into his side. She pauses, and he wonders how it is that he knows she’s biting her lip just from the sound of the silence. “I was just thinking… maybe it’s about time he does know.”

He turns his head, barely able to make out the shape of her eyes in the darkness. “Maybe… maybe it’s about time all of them did.”

She hums thoughtfully. “I don’t know. Pretty sure Baze knows. He’s been dropping hints all week." 

"Baze?” Cassian repeats, wide-eyed. “Hints?!”

“He’s not nearly as good at it as Chirrut is,” Jyn adds. “But then again, who else do you think told him?”

He sighs. “Of course Chirrut figured it out. I knew we shouldn’t have sat next to each other at that dinner to celebrate Kay’s promotion.”

“It’s your fault,” she retorts instantly. “You had to wear that shirt. You know I can’t resist that blue on you.” She stretches languidly, her arms reaching above their heads. “So that really means the only person left who doesn’t know is—”

“Oh, no.” Cassian sucks in a deep breath, and blows it out again. “Kay is going to kill me." 

He can feel Jyn’s grin, curving against his skin as she presses her lips to his stubbled cheek. ”Us, babe. Kay is going to kill us.“

He wraps his arm around her, pulling her in snug and tight. "Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

It’s really not that bad in the end.

The heated rant Kay goes on only lasts about thirty-five minutes, including the ten or so minutes of cold silence right in the middle.

The bottle of wine he buys for the table right afterwards lets Cassian know just how little fire there is behind his best friend’s supposed ire.

But what really makes it worth it is the solid clasp of Jyn’s fingers, her hand entwined with his through it all.