#but in any case i have three more to work on for now- i have those skethed and done at least so i just have to finish em

[orchidyoonkook]

Diving back into your glory with the second response! Kiki you once again absolutely spoil me. I had the biggest damn smile and the giggles reading through this <3

okay so the first thing that caught my eye was the warning yoon why????? a whole jk and ady warning i can't i don't think i can make it through them fucking 😩😩😩

I'm a big believer in not shying away from writing things that may make people uncomfortable. Especially if I find it to be crucial for the plot, like it is here. It's a very important back and forth, metnal conversation, sen reactions and visual scene and it. is. important!! THEREFORE! you get a warning that it is going to happen to prep yourself! I know folks dont really side pairings a lot of the time when the sex is included with them, but in this case I needed it to show an important contrast so I kept it in.

also! Because I can. :)

(this is also why i will fight to the death for all my horror, yandere, boundary pushing writers. Just because their work makes YOU (general use) uncomfortable or upset, doesnt make them wrong for writing it)

like oc and nel i can handle but jk and ady ugh nooooooo our boy our prince not her please anyone else i can take but not her (i just realized the hate train towards ady is strong damn my loyalty to oc ain't cracking) so i am just going to power through that part and take the angst that comes with it (which I welcome)

I hope you were able to see why it was needed!! (let me know if you wanna!) and I appreciate your dedication so much. I know it's tough when it's obvious to you as the reader why something probably shouldnt happen and ngl that makes it wayyyyyyyy more fun to write.

i did notice that subtle hint at of using someone and the fantasies uhmmmmm ok that must be the upside...

noooooooooooooooooo comment 😈

I honestly wonder why oc isn't mentioning her friendship with jk I honestly love it it's giving me little tingles,

She went over her reasoning in chapter three!! ☺ but that was a while ago so I cant blame you there. In a terribly summary she essentially wants to stay out of the public eye, keep the prince happy because she does emjoy his company, and not cause any drama with friends and family.

That being said! I love it too

i don't think i mentioned it but uhm this slow burn is everything its freaking burning and i think oc is definitely feeling it now that jk is with someone, the little encounter at the cafe and the texting they are just adorable and fluffy my face hurts from the smiles...

This is one of my favourite parts of the story. The banter, the subtle jabs, the build up upon build up, the realising of things and denying them, just all of it. Slow burns are my bread and butter, i can devour them always, and apparently I can somewhat write them too. Which is pretty cool

I just love how they have these opinions about each other's partners like the red flags they each see but they are all about each other's happiness, oc held back with ady but oooh jk isn't 😂 you go boy you tell her gosh i love his character in that scene....

This is another contrast!! It's intentional!! I love that you noticed because I try to be subtle about it. They both have their issues and deal with it in their own ways. OC very much deals with it in a small town girl way, whereas the freaking prince is, shockingly (not) very confrontational. I love that theyre opposites in this way.

oc and nel's scene had me pausing cause i literally went why the heck is she thinking about jk at a time like this and then she said it too it was epic oh oc you give me the giggles😂

AHA i LOVE this. I also love the fact their yours and her lines of thinking lined up. That's actually really nice feedback in a way because it means I was able to write OC in a way that actually mimics real life thought patterns when in certain situations and thats REALLY COOL to hear as the writer from the reader.

Also! Happy to make you giggle! Humor is another thing I struggle with writing wise, so I'm glad I can make you crack a smile now and then with mine.

wait what she didn't finish?!?!??!?!?! THIS IS MY ACTUAL REACTION IT'S LIKE OC IS IN MY HEAD ANSWERING ALL MY QUESTIONS OC BABYGIRL NO DIDN'T YOU LITERALLY GIVE YURI ADVICE ABOUT HER DATE AND NOW THIS 😩😩😩

The best advice often comes from those who have experience with things one way or another.

Ex: I never dated in highschool and yet I was the person ALLLLLLL of my friends came too for their relationship advice.

So, my darling OC was just looking out for her bestie in that regard imo, as someone who has trouble in that aspect of her life.

and we jump straight into jk's horror I can't help it this back to back is amazing, not me shouting no through out his entire scene why jk why, here's oc is having trouble and ady on her fourth whyyyyyyyy he better have oc on his mind

YOU DID SEE HOW THE BACK TO BACK WAS IMPORTANT!!!! YAYAYAYAYAY!!

oh I'm so happy, literally this was the "let me know if you wanna" from earlier. This is what I was hoping for!!

JK is allowed to make bad decisions every now and then unfortunately as no one is perfect and no one has perfect coping mechanisms the first time they encounter new problems. He's human, and therefore is prone to making poor human mistakes.

as for the orgasm ratio....noooo comment :)

i love how jungkook says nels name in full i can literally picture the disgust and the face he would pull (cue oc eye roll) italics and all..

AHA I love this. This is probably my fave part im sorry becaue I wrote this in intentionally as sort of a joke that turns into a habit and it's just.....so him. And i adore it because its SO. PETTY. and I live for it.

i am writing this as i read so everything scene/sentence i go to write something on my notepad so i hope it all makes sense

it does!!

and let's just say when he shut her up the scene was better to read

As the writer, I'm cackling. As a reader, FACTS.

ugh jungkook likes oc he likes her fuck can they get together already i am dying here this chapter was perfect (even if ady was in it) like the build up and their thoughts both being on each other oh that tension is building i love the progression between them and the next chapter is gone be golden ahhhhhh lemme run over

Literally the only response I can think to give is just a bunch of these guys: 😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈 and then a giant THANKYOU!

yoon you beautiful genius you have my heart this fic is everything and it's getting more and more captivating as it goes along i can't wait to see what more you do in this series seriously yoon with every update i go back and re-read everything again and I am in awe every single time and your talent, like this should be printed like i want a physical copy when it's done you are brilliant and such a star for coming up with this ily yoon i hope you know that 🥹🖤

SOBBING IN THE CLUB KIKI. THERES A SPOTLIGHT ON ME, IM IN THE MIDDLE OF THE CROWD OF DANCING PEOPLE AND IM SOBBING.

And funfact! I can actually bind this when I'm done with it as I am slowly gathering all the materials I need in order to do so. So maybe one day it will have a physcial copy (or two)!

Once again I feel nothing but warmth and love and light and kindness from your beautiful words. As much as I enjoy writing, it's words like yours and lovely folks like you that make me want to keep writing.

Thankyou. Truly, truly.

Xo, Yoon.

To What We Were Before, And All The Things After | JJK | Ch. 6 | M

Title: Eastern Arrivals and Unwanted Doubt

Pairing: Prince!College Student!JK x Fine Arts Major!(F)!Reader

Series Rating//Genre: (M) | College AU, Mild Royalty AU, Smut, Angst, Fluff, S2F2L, Indiffernce to lovers, sloooowwww ass burn

Summary: Nel's here for the week and you couldn't be more excited!! Jungkook's another story though...

Warnings: M, fluff, smut, swearing, drinking, pining, angsstt, slight boundary pushing (not sexual), unwanted/ unneeded overprotectiveness, jealousy, lying, [reader eats bacon and eggs but it's not specified what kind or where it's from, just bacon and eggs, so whether that means veggie, vegan or normal is up to you], intentional pissing off of Nel, a little spat between major characters, sex as a plot device.

Mature warnings under the cut.

Word Count: 6,945

Release Date: April 20, 2:00PM

A/N 1: 6 months later and we have chapter 6! slow updates, but they will be written and they will be posted. I have no plans to abandon this, I just, very unfortunately, have a bit of an outernet life now. So not a lot of free time to be creative which I hate. But it's here!!

Series: Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five

Mature Warnings: Consensual sex x 2, both reader with Nel and JK with Ady -> sorry not sorry cuz it's plot sex. We got us some: kissing, protected sex (as we should), missionary, fingering, oral (f. rec), tiny bit of groping (consenual), multiple orgasms, loud sex, like annoyingly, sex as a terrible coping mechanism (imo), fantasizing.

Bouncing lightly from foot to foot, you’re buzzing after finally receiving the text you were waiting on a few minutes ago.

Nelly <3 [10:10pm]: Landed. See you soon 😘

He’s almost here. He’s almost here!

Just a few more seconds until—

The gates slide open. A flood of people in a mixture of sweats and business casual wear with luggage of all sizes and neck pillows walk through. You hold up the sign above your head with both hands, a smile that could outshine the sun plastered on your face, and search.

Where is he? Where is he, where is he, where is he, you think as you scour the bodies filing out of the automatic doors. You can’t see him. He’s none of the nameless faces that pass you by as they find their family, friends or rides. 

Is this even the right group of people? What if his luggage got lost and he won’t be out with this group. What if he got taken aside for some reason, and now he’s being held in some dusty room being asked a bunch of stupid questions he doesn’t know how to answer? What if he’s fig—

But then there’s a gap in the crowd, and the boy you’ve spent the last half decade of your life with comes into perfect, crystalline view. His lips pulled taught, teeth beautifully bared as he sets his sights on your sign high in the air, then down to you.

And you're running. 

You’re running and dodging and swerving until you’re jumping into Nels arms as he abandons his suitcase in favour of keeping you both up right. He buries his face into your neck, holding you so tightly you think he’ll never let go. And that’s just fine with you as you hold on just as tight, taking in a big breath of him too. 

He smells like airplane and coastal breeze and most importantly, home. 

Nel smells like home.

A muffled, “Ohhhhhhh, I missed you,” greets your ears, and you melt into him even more if that's even possible.

“I missed you too,” you say, pulling back and kissing him. You don’t really care if there’s an audience or not right now. Not when Nel’s here, and he’s in your arms, and he’s yours for a whole 9 days and life is as it should be once again.

He releases his hold slightly, but your arms don’t leave his shoulders. The sign still clutched, now crushed and crinkled, in one hand. 

“Car?” he asks, a kiss to your nose.

“This way,” you lead, releasing your hold.

Luckily, his suitcase is small, so he forgoes rolling it, instead gripping the handle at the top and carrying it in one hand. Your own reaching for his other and not letting go. He’s going to have to peel you off him if he wants space right now. 

Nel’s wearing his usual fall attire; a dark green school sweater that has ‘ECAD’ written over the chest in a large, academic looking mustard yellow font, regular old blue jeans, and dark brown lace up boots. His short, dirty blond hair's covered by a hat you’d gotten him as a highschool graduation present, and his ocean blue eyes remain as gorgeous as they were the day you met. 

Passing through doors to the outside and back to lot J, you hop in the car as he puts his bag in the trunk.

“How have you been? What’s new? What’s not? Tell me everything,” he asks as he climbs in and sits beside you, hand finding yours again. 

Never gone for too long. You relish in the comfort and happiness that alone brings you. 

He’s finally here. You finally have him back.

“I’m great. Yuri’s still Yuri, classes are only a little more challenging this year, but I’m still at the top of them,” Nel slips in a ‘not surprised’ and you smile brighter as you continue. “They’re already telling us to start brainstorming ideas for our thesis show next year,” you have no idea what you’re going to do, but you’re working on it. “Campus is the same, dorms are the same, the cafe’s the same. Though, they have the egg tarts I like in more, which is awesome for my taste buds and terrible for my bank account.” 

Vivian stayed true to her word, and now they had the tarts in every week. 

“I can only imagine,” Nel jokes.

“Uhhmm, what else…” a thought pops up, and you guess you can tell him. It doesn’t reveal anything the whole world doesn’t already know. “The prince is dating Adaline Dupree.”

His eyebrows raise, remembering, “Oh yeah, that’s right, the prince goes to your school now.”

“Yep.”

“Have you met him?”

Is he seriously not completely shocked at the prince dating Adaline? You only bitched about her to him all the time.

“Uhhh… yep, once or twice, I guess.” 

You hate it. You hate lying, especially to Nel. You hate it so much, but it’s for the greater good. It’s to keep the peace. But that doesn’t stop the burning feeling in your chest nor the roil in your belly.

“The day he arrived Yuri dragged me down to see him speak. She made us sit front row because Yuri,” Nel nods, knowing exactly what you mean. “He had everyone assemble to hear why he was at school and tell us not to treat him like a prince. He wants to be able to study without his title getting in the way.”

You hit your blinker, making a one handed left turn. 

“Makes sense. Is he nice at least?” Nel doesn’t sound at all suspicious, and why should he? You’ve never given him reason to not believe you at your word before. Never lied to him before.

Fuck you hate this so much. It was so much easier when he was 5000 miles away. But now that he's right beside you? This week may end up being more difficult than you thought.

“He was very princely. Tried to kiss my hand like he did like every other girl there, but I made it a handshake instead. Figured if he wants to be treated like everyone else, I would liste—Oh!” you laugh before you can even get the words out.

“What?” he asks, intrigued but confused.

You can barely speak coherently. “You should have seen Yuri’s face when I called him Jungkook and not Prince or Your Highness...her eyes nearly fell out of her head,” tears are starting to form from laughing so hard. “It was great.”

“He didn’t mind?” Nel asks and you shake your head. Yuri’s face that day will forever be seared into your brain for whenever you need a pick-me-up. 

“No, he was grateful actually. I was the first person that had addressed him like that, the way he’d asked to be.” Stopping at a red light, you're finally regaining yourself.

“Well,” he squeezes your hand, “you always were good at first impressions,” and looks at you so softly you can’t help but smile into the kiss you give him. 

He remembers that school art fair just as fondly as you do. 

Nel pulls away first with a thought. “Is Yuri with us this time?” 

Yuri hadn’t been able to go home last year, her parents too busy on a work trip, so she stayed back and kicked it with you two, but also gave you your space when needed.

Lots and lots of space.

“Nope! Parents welcomed her with open arms this afternoon, I’m sure. They’re all on some tropical island down south. She’s bringing me an ocean bottle though, so I’m excited for that. It’s been a while since I’ve been able to add a new one.”

Everytime you travelled somewhere with a beach you got a glass bottle and filled it with half sand, half water, added in some shells or rocks and labelled it. Instead of towels, keychains, or magnets, you did ocean bottles. They lined a shelf in your room back home. 

You probably have at least fifteen of them by now. Your mum likes to travel and make sure you experience the world around you, not just your little corner of it.

“Oh that’s great babe! I know how much you love those.”

“Yeah, it is.” You lean your head on his shoulder, basking in his presence for as long as the light remains red. 

He’s here. He’s yours. 

You only have to do this for a couple more years and then you’ll be together all the time. God you can’t wait. But you are nothing if not disciplined. 

And it’s going to be so worth it in the end.

The rest of the ride to your dorm goes by quickly. 

Some more red lights, some more kisses. You point out the same things you always do on the way back, and Nel acts like it’s the first time he’s seen them, just like he always does.

His hand never leaves yours over the center console. 

Soon enough, you find yourselves flopping down on your bed. Bags, jackets and shoes, scattered. Nel pulls you into him, his head on your pillow, yours lying on his chest. True peace settling in for the first time in months.

“I can't wait until we’re done school and I have more than four and a half months with you a year,” he sighs.  “It’s not enough. I want more. Need more.”

“Me too. But good things come to those who wait.”

“Yeah…I’m just really sick of waiting.” 

“Me too,” you repeat in a yawn. 

Nel’s breathing slowly evens out as you lie there, content to be in your arms again. And you look up to see his eyes closed, warm exhales brushing over your face from his nose. 

You can’t blame him for being so tired. He’d had an early morning exam before flying out, even brought his suitcase to it so he could leave the second he was done. Then, the flight alone was ten hours, plus travel times to and from the airports was about an hour each way, and the wait time before boarding was another two. 

Shit, he’s probably been awake for around eighteen hours straight at this point because he’s also the type that can’t sleep on planes no matter what he tries. 

Oh, Nel...Of course he’s exhausted.

Giving him a squeeze before getting up, you take off his socks and jeans carefully, then tuck him into bed as much as you can. You’d try the sweater, but it involved too many working parts and you didn’t want to wake him, so you figure it’s best to have the window open tonight instead. 

Grabbing your phone, you tiptoe to the bathroom and do your night time routine. It’s not an overly complicated one, just brushing your teeth, washing your face and a simple 3 step skincare routine of cleanser, toner and moisturizer. Short and sweet, but it does the job. 

Halfway through brushing, you do your friend due diligence and send Yuri a ‘back safe’ text, just like she’d sent you her own ‘here safe’ when she’d landed.

You spit and rinse, moving onto washing your face and applying cleanser.

Teeth clean and face moisturized, you sneak into your room again. Nel's still out cold. 

You sneak out of habit—your mom wakes at the sound of a pin dropping. But absolutely nothing could wake Nel now outside of his mother’s voice and his morning alarm. It’s a talent of his you’ve always been jealous of.  

Removing today's clothes and tossing them in your overflowing hamper—reminder to self: do laundry—you slide on your pjs and climb into bed beside him, plugging in your phone and setting it down. 

A thought pops into your head and you pick it back up, shooting a quick text before you can think twice. 

You [11:26pm]: home safe

It pings not seconds later.

PJK [11:26pm]: Thanks Picasso  PJK [11:27pm]: glad ur home safe

Your heart beats a little louder at the nickname, and you chalk it up to the excitement still in you at having Nel here and being tired. 

But you sleep better that night than you have in a long time. 

A short, repetitive, rhythmic vibration. 

Picasso [11:26pm]: home safe

Jungkook is still standing in the same corner by the wall, Adaline somewhere in the crowd in front of him dancing with her friends. She asked him to join her, but he declined. He doesn’t need to see himself more than half drunk and dancing on the cover of tomorrow’s news cycles. Not to mention his security team would shut the party down the second a camera flashed.

His guards are carefully stationed throughout the house, all dressed down in casual wear, a few with empty cups in their hands. One is watching some sort of beer pong like game in the corner, another is mingling with some guys over in the kitchen. Three he can’t immediately see. And he knows his head guard is outside in a black car ready to get him out at a moment's notice.

Nobody can tell they aren’t here for the party, not unless they’re sober enough to notice watchful eyes continually making their way over the crowd as the night goes on. 

Your text woke him from the stillness he’s adapted from standing so long, trying hard not to draw attention to himself. 

You were home safe. Home safe from the airport. Home safe from picking up Cornelius. 

Your boyfriend. 

Cornelius, your boyfriend. 

He doesn’t acknowledge his teeth grinding.

You were home from picking up your beau but even then, you’d texted him to let him know you were back on campus safely. To let him know you were okay. 

It’s the first thing that makes him smile all night.

So he sends back, a bit to quickly: 

Me [11:26pm]: Thanks Picasso Me [11:26pm]: glad ur home safe

Because it means something to him that you deem him close enough to send a ‘home safe’ text too. 

That you want him to know you’re back.  

Want him to know you’re safe.

Whether you know it or not, your safety means a lot to Jungkook, so that little two word text makes his heart lurch. 

He needs to leave. 

He needs to get out of this fucking house and back to his dorm. He came, he drank, he observed, he fulfilled his boyfriend duty.

That’s enough for him. 

He shoots Adaline a text that says he isn’t feeling well and gets out as fast as he possibly can, dodging bodies left and right and doing his best to hide his face. 

Once he’s out, security team in tow, the cooling midnight air does him some good. 

“Someone make sure she gets back to her dorm safe,” he says in their general direction, brain too muddled to be polite in this exact moment, but it’s nothing they haven’t seen before. 

This is going to be such a long week.

He can’t wait till it’s over. Till he doesn’t have to share anymore. 

He was never very good at it anyway. 

The smell of bacon wakes you. 

And toast, and…

Eggs? 

You think, at least. Since when do you have bacon? Or eggs? Toast is a given, it’s part of your life’s blood.

Opening your eyes, you blindly reach for your phone, successfully unplugging it and bringing it to your face.

The screen is too bright but you suffer through it, squinting.

9:27am. 

9:27? 

You slept for ten hours!?

You can’t remember the last time you slept more than 6 consecutively, aside from recovery nights, and even then it was fitful.

Nel comes in with two plates, his full with a very Eastern breakfast of pancakes, scrambled eggs and bacon. Yours with two pieces of toast, lots of bacon, a bit of eggs and some fruit. Where did he—?

He smiles at your confusion, “You have a cafeteria that sells breakfast food, you know.”

You know that.

“I know that.”

“Do you? Because the look on your face says otherwise.”

You flop back down and pull the pillow over your head, mumbling incoherent nonsense. You rarely used the dorm cafeteria for breakfast. Much preferring the greenhouse cafe or simple toast and juice that you can make in your dorm.

He chuckles. “Two breakfasts for me then, okay, if you insist,” Nel moves to leave but you screech, uncovering your face.

“Noo! I want it. Please, sweet nutrition,” he hands the plate over when you sit up, arms out stretched, and you dig in. 

After a piece of bacon, you ask, “How long have you been up?”

Nel’s sitting with his legs crossed at the end of your bed, munching away, “Long enough to get changed, grab my wallet, get food and come back.”

The bacon is really good. You’ve never been so glad he knew you so well as you grab another piece from the dwindling pile.

“You slept well then, too? That’s good, I’m glad. You needed the rest.”

“Having you around always makes it easier to fall asleep,” he nudges your knee with his elbow.

Even after five years he can still make you blush.

“I know the feeling.”

You two fall into step, starting your weeks in advance prepared plans, the rest of your day passing quickly. 

Too quickly. 

And so does the next day, and the next, and the next. 

All of your activities are going great. The zoo, picnics, study dates, restaurant dates, historical, artistic and architectural museum tours. Even a swim at the school’s indoor pool, and there’s plenty more to come. 

Things slip back into being easy, just as they always have been with Nel, ever since that first day back in tenth grade. 

He knows you like the back of his hand and predicts your moves before you make them, just like you do for him. 

You know his favourite foods, and where he prefers to park when driving—always avoiding open curbs—you know his dream travel destinations, and who his favourite musicians are. You know his favourite pencils to design with and his favourite pencils to shade with, that he always put on his right sock first, then right shoe, then left sock and left shoe. You know that his drink order is an iced coffee with two cream and two sugar, that he prefers loose shirts over fitted ones, and that his favourite colour is orange.

It’s a pretty orange too, not just any orange. You wonder if it’s anything like Jungkook's–

Wait. 

You search your memory for the information, going through favourite foods, drinks, music—all discussed previously, because you know their answers. But colour?

Nothing.

How have you never asked what Jungkook’s favourite colour is?

Isn’t that usually one of the first things people ask when they’re trying to get to know one another? Funny. Guess you’ll have to inquire the next time you see him. 

Anyways, just like you know everything there is to know about Nel, he knows everything about you too, including your routines. 

Which is why at twelve noon every day, he starts getting ready to go to the greenhouse for your afternoon study session.

Including today.  

Your week’s already half over and you hate it. Time always moves far to fast when all you want it to do is slow the fuck down. 

You only have five days left. Five days.

You’re lucky the greenhouse cafe is open during break, some places on campus are required to stay open for the students who can’t make it home, but greenhouse chooses to. 

As you and Nel turn the corner you see a familiar figure sitting in his old spot at the back of the patio. The same hat, mask and hoodie, now paired with a leather jacket on top due to the weather starting to cool down.

You can tell Jungkook wasn’t expecting to see you by the way he stiffens before those all too familiar brown eyes of his meet your own. Which is fair, your schedule shifts a bit when you’re on break, he isn’t used to you being here at twelve on Wednesdays. 

But as quickly as he sees you, his gaze is back on his laptop, like he never saw you in the first place. 

Like you asked him to do. 

And a sharp pain stings inside your chest.

When you and Nel get to your table, he sits in the seat opposite to where you always do, leaving where Jungkook usually sits beside you, empty. 

A part of you is grateful for that, though you can’t figure out why and table that self discussion for a later date. 

Setting down your things, you ask Nel if he wants coffee. He answers yes, like always, and after a quick visit with Viv, you're pulling out your chair and setting down your cups. Your back faces Jungkook. It’s a small mercy you can’t see him. Maybe you can forget he’s here and actually focus on your work. 

But it’s also exactly because of your position, that you can’t see as Jungkook subtly watches you over the rim of his laptop while you and Nel talk quietly and study. 

Nel can though. 

It feels weird to ignore him. To pretend you don’t know one another when for the better part of the last seven weeks all you’ve done is talk, hang out, study or a mixture of the three, every day. 

When having him sit behind you and not beside you feels so wrong and so foreign. 

But this is your own doing, you caused this. So you need to suck it up and get used to it. 

This is exactly what you asked for all those weeks ago. The perfect solution to your problem. 

No one can know. 

Not Nel. 

Not anyone. 

But fuck, if it didn’t absolutely suck in practice. 

Setting some of your books out around you and on the table Jungkook usually uses, you dig into your business homework. Having a major and a minor are great for job prospects, on paper, and in practice after you’ve completed them.

But getting them? It takes years of hard work and dedication with no distractions. 

None.  

You spend almost every free moment you have doing homework or practicing, trying to get ahead, trying to stay on top.

…Trying to beat Adaline. 

But you just use that as fuel for your drive to be better. To be the best. 

Competition is healthy. Especially when you’re winning against the rich brat who’s used to getting what she wants. 

Not that you're petty.

Ehh…You are. But only a little bit. At least you can admit it.

Nel gets to work as well, the sunlight from his spot is great for drawing. He’s working on a rough version of his thesis project that’s due at the end of the year. He has to have multiple completed renderings as well as a scale model, and he’s been brainstorming since last year about what he wants to do.

Currently, he’s drawing up an airport, trying to design so that it’s not confusing and complicated for first time users. 

However, his occasional swearing and muttering to himself makes you think he’s having a tough time with it. 

You try not to laugh, but a small giggle slips out. 

“What,” Nel asks, a little distracted.

“Nothing.”

“No really, what’s up? I could use a laugh right now,” he insists, eyes on you at first. But then something behind you steals their attention every few seconds. 

Someone. 

“You just…you still make funny sounds when you're frustrated with a drawing. It’s endearing.” You reach to place your hand on his knee, trying to gain back his full attention. 

Ignore him, Nel. Please ignore him. 

“Yeah...” he exhales. “I guess airports are out,” his hand covers yours quickly and you hear a faint chair screech from behind you. Nel doesn’t miss it as he says. “But I do have a much bigger appreciation and understanding for all those who came before me,” pupils now unmoving from their target behind you. 

Fine. 

You’ll acknowledge it. 

“Is everything okay? You keep looking at something? Is there an animal or…” You know what he’s looking at, but go so far as to turn anyway, playing up the ‘confused girlfriend’ role. But Nel squeezes your hand, stopping you. 

He leans in, placing a fake mask of serene on and lowers his voice. “That guy keeps looking at us, moreso you. And he looks pissed off.”

Fuck, think of something.

Anything. Anythi—Oh!

You lean in too, so close your noses almost touch. “He’s probably just upset we’re talking. The greenhouse cafe is usually a quiet place to work,” good enough, you think. That’s believable, right?. “It’ll be fine. Let’s just ignore him and get back to work.”

You place a quick kiss on his lips but Nel isn’t letting up on his unnecessary vigilance. But then again, he doesn’t know that Jungkook is the opposite of a threat to you. So you reassure him, in your own way.  

“Babe, seriously. If you’re going to be all protective or whatever, don’t. I come here everyday when you're not here and I’m still alive and unharmed. Go get a sandwich or a refill to get your head off of it and say hi to Viv. She’s still here, and I’m betting she remembers you. You’re kinda hard to forget.” 

You can tell Nel’s about to reject the idea when you insist. “I’ll be fine, Nel. Promise. Three years and not a scratch on me.” 

He sighs through his nose, but relents. 

Placing his drawing pad on the table, he gets up, but not before placing another kiss to your forehead and mumbling, “Scream ‘cumquat’ if you’re in danger and I’ll come running, okay?” 

You laugh outright at that. “Will do.”

You watch him as he goes, and the second he’s inside, you’re racing for your phone, typing at an astounding speed.

You [1:45pm]: Didn’t your royal upbringing teach you not to stare so blatantly!??? Nel caught you

You hear a quiet ping from behind you followed by a small exhale that sounds more like a disguised chuckle. 

PJK [1:45pm]: Yes.  

You [1:45pm]: So you intentionally got caught?

PJK [1:45pm]: Maybe

You [1:45pm]: Shithead

PJK [1:46pm]: Rude

You [1:46pm]: You deserve it

PJK [1:46pm]: I know. I’m just making sure he’s treating you right.  PJK [1:47pm]: and trying to see if he acts differently when he knows he’s being watched. He’s very protective you know 

Jungkook saw the second Nel noticed he was watching you. 

His posture changed from easy going to on alert. His hand went so quickly to yours on his knee and his public displays of affection increased significantly. 

It was pathetic, really. It went above a normal amount of protection. Nel was claiming his ‘property’, making sure Jungkook knew not to touch. 

And the nasty look Nel gave him as he entered the cafe—gratefully still unrecognizable in his disguise—was another silent way to say back off, stay away, and don’t try anything or you’ll regret it. 

It was a red flag in Jungkook's mind. A small one, but it’s still there because his efforts are completely unneeded. After five years together, Nel should know that you can handle yourself. 

Hell, Jungkook knows that and it’s only been two months. 

You [1:47pm]: yes I know he is, and I already told you he treats me well because he always. Does. Not just in public or under watchful eyes  You [1:48pm]: and since when does my boyfriend of half a decade need your ~princely~ seal approval?

He ignores the small jab. You only ever brought up his title when you were mocking or upset with him. And he knows that in this case it's the latter.

PJK [1:48pm]: Since now PJK [1:49pm]: And it’s not that I don’t trust you at your word, but I usually like to decide for myself

That has you reeling. 

Where does he get the audacity to think he has any say in or about your relationship? Your very solidly built, five years strong, healthy, happy relationship?

Because he’s the Prince? You’re pretty sure you established on day one that you didn’t and still don’t give a fuck about his birthright. 

If he thinks he gets an opinion on any of this he’s got another thing coming the second he asks you anything about Adaline again. 

You’re in the middle of typing out a paragraph explaining all of this when another text comes in.  

PJK [1:49pm]: Because I’ve seen far too many women in love who are blind to certain things PJK [1:50pm]: And far too many hurt in the end because of it. 

You pause. Fingers frozen mid swipe.

Blind to what?

How many women did he know that were in love but missing something about their partner? Surely there couldn't be that many. Right? 

But this was Jungkook you were talking to, he’s lived numerous lifetimes already. That fancy birthright of his you don’t care about having given him far too many life experiences to have at his age. And they’re only going to increase from here.

So instead of hitting send and cursing him out quite spectacularly, you stop and think for a moment. 

What did he see that they didn’t? 

That you might… not?

You’re a decent judge of character if your record tracks. And it does. 

So your curiosity gets the better of you as you delete your rage paragraph and settle for a simple two word question instead. 

You [1:50pm]: Like what?

You can see that he’s typing out a response but the bell on the cafe door rings and you put your phone down. It buzzes with his response a few seconds after. 

You’ll check it later.

Nel takes his seat again, and you notice he has his sandwich, but also that he’s moved his chair and starts sketching from the new position giving him a direct eye line with Jungkook. 

You internally scoff at that. 

Nel has always been protective. But he was raised that way and you don’t mind too much. You don’t expect him to change his core values for you, just like he never expects you to change yours for him, even when a couple of his are just the slightest bit overbearing. 

But that’s part of a relationship. Give and take and compromise. No one person is going to be perfect for another. It’s healthy to have differences. 

That being said, Nel doesn’t change positions for the rest of the hour. Even as Jungkook packs up and leaves, Nel eyeballs him until he’s out of sight. 

That night while Nel is brushing his teeth and you're lying in bed, you check the text from Jungkook. 

PJK [1:51pm]: Like if they’re getting treated the way they should be or if they’re settling for the best they think they can get or for the first guy that showed interest. The one who hasn’t grown up even though time has passed. The one who’s holding her back by not setting her free

You stare at your phone. At the text. At his words. 

And dismiss it. 

You aren’t one of those women. 

You know yourself. 

You know what you deserve and how you should be treated. You didn’t settle, you just happened to find your love at a young age. That’s something special and rare and should be protected. And Nel has most certainly grown up as time passed. 

Jungkook is being ridiculous for absolutely no reason. Surely he’ll have seen that today. Seen how Nel loves you, treats you how you deserve to be treated, holds you up. Supports you. 

You’re confident he’ll be eating his words soon enough.

Finished brushing, Nel comes back to the bedroom and snuggles up behind you and you put down your phone. 

He cuddles you for a minute before placing a kiss at your neck. Then another. And another before he’s mouthing up your neck, and sliding a hand up your thigh and to your waist. It pauses on your stomach with teasing caresses, before dipping lower and lower, beneath the fabric of your sleep shorts, and under the elastic of your underwear. 

A small moan sounds in your throat at the touch. His fingers meeting your folds and the sensitive bundle of nerves at their apex.

You wanted this. 

Need it. 

He’s grown, you think; as a finger slips in you and you gasp at the stretch, legs opening wider for him. A second finger plunges in and you can feel yourself getting wetter and wetter with every thrust. Just like you can feel a bulge forming behind you. 

You know what you deserve; as he uses them to scissor you open, making sure you’re ready. You roll over, now on your back with Nel over you as he pulls your shorts and underwear down to get better access, your own hands removing your shirt.

You’re not settling; as Nel moves down, tongue making a couple swipes at your entrance and you hiss in pleasure before he’s reaching over, grabbing a condom from the nightstand drawer and sliding it on, length hard and dripping at the sight of you bared before him. 

Nel wasn’t the first guy who’d shown interest, just the first you’d said yes to; and he slides in. Both of you moaning at the snug fit.

“Fuck...” he says and you nod, agreeing, before pulling him down into a deep kiss.

He eases into a slow, steady rhythm that has you breathy and his abs tensing. 

But it’s not enough. You need more. You need to erase these past two months without him, and take enough to last for the next two. It’s never enough, but you try. 

“Faster baby,” you beg, “Please…faster.”

Nel isn’t holding you back. Jungkook doesn’t know what the fuck he’s talking about. 

Nel picks up the pace and you start moaning, louder like you know he likes. Likes to hear he’s doing a good job. He’s grabbing your breast and sucking in a nipple, tongue swirling and you're bringing your hips to meet his with every thrust. 

It feels good. It always feels good with Nel. 

He was your first everything. First kiss, first intimate touch, first love. 

Only love.

And he makes you feel good with that love. That touch. His kiss.

He makes you feel safe, inside and out. 

Jungkook can go eat grass. He doesn’t know your relationship. Doesn’t know the first thing about it. 

“There, right there!” you whine as Nel hits your sweet spot once and you arch. He tries again but misses, continuing faster, his peak coming quickly. 

Jungkook can never understand what you two have. What you two have built in these five years. The understanding and security that comes with it. 

He’s being an unrightfully opinionated ass on something he knows nothing about and— 

Fuck! Why are you thinking about Jungkook? You’re having sex with Nel. You shouldn’t be thinking about anything or anyone other than that. 

Than him. 

So why can’t you get what Jungkook said out of your fucking head?

“Ahhh… oh fuck. I’m cumming.” Nel’s hips stutter, his face contorting in pleasure as he releases, filling the condom.

You kiss him passionately to rid yourself of your princely plagued thoughts, the ones filling you with unwanted and unnecessary doubt. You want them gone, gone, gone. Nothing but Nel in their place. 

And you slip an, “I love you,” in between kisses for good measure. 

Jungkook could never understand. 

Nel kisses you back just as hard, dramatically slowing his thrusts, drawing out his high for as long as possible. 

“I love you too.”

Jungkook doesn’t know anything. 

Nel groans into your lips when it becomes too much and pulls out. 

Removing and tying off the condom, Nel goes to the washroom to throw it out and starts the shower he knows you’ll be joining him for when you're done. 

A routine you’re all too familiar with. 

One you created. 

He knows you need a few minutes to get yourself off. 

You’ve never been able to cum from sex with a partner. No matter how hard you tried. No matter what you did. 

Most would think Nel wasn’t a good lover or wasn’t trying enough, but it was through years of constantly trying anything and everything that you learned you just…couldn’t. 

No amount of fingering or oral or penetration from your partner could make you orgasm. 

So Nel knows to wait for you in the shower as you finish yourself off, your own fingers making quick work of it, because you always could for some reason. 

It isn’t your ideal situation, and it isn’t anyone’s fault. But it works. You both get the intimacy you crave and you accepted a long time ago that you were just one of the unlucky few. 

Screams fill Jungkook’s ears as a hand finds his hair and nails rake against his scalp. 

Adaline isn’t a quiet receiver. 

“Ohmygod!” She shouts for the twentieth time. “Yes! There…so goo-oohhhh,” the last syllable turning into a loud moan. 

He’s holding her downwith a forearm by her pelvis, mouth full as he brings out her third orgasm of the night, juices flooding his tongue. 

He’s working out earlier frustrations and proving a point to himself in this fucked up version of self therapy. 

He shouldn’t be. 

But he does.

Has to.

Seeing you today with Cornelius spurred feelings within him that he didn’t know he had. Sure, there were bits and pieces of something stirring he refused to name, but today? 

They were in a whole different ballpark. Different than anything else he’s ever felt before, brewing inside him, bubbling up to the surface even though he’s been trying his best to pop them and shove them down.

Anger? 

Feelings he doesn’t want to have. 

Jealousy? 

Does have. 

Wanting you to look at him the way you look at Nel?

Can’t have. 

Not for… 

He admits he provoked Nel because he could. Dick move, but it was because Jungkook knew just by looking at him that giving you any form of attention would piss him off.  He seemed the type. 

Overly possessive, overprotective. 

Overbearingly so. 

Suffocatingly so. 

Because Nel knows how lucky he is. That you chose him. That you still choose him. 

He knows he has to keep others away. 

Knows he isn’t good enough for you, holds you back. But keeps you anyway.

The selfish prick. 

So Jungkook eyed you up and down, leisurely, and for as long as he wanted. Purely out of the need to prove to himself he was right about his little assessment of your boyfriend. At least that’s what he told himself. 

Was it childish and unnecessary? 

Yes. 

But he was right. And that felt good. 

He could see in your posture and your hushed words you didn’t want Nel’s protection, didn’t need it, and that Nel ignored that wish of yours. Did what he wanted to instead of respecting your ability to make decisions for yourself. Bulldozed your opinions. 

It pissed Jungkook off. 

He’d left a little while after sending you that text to read, but you never did. At least not since the last time he checked. And so he’d made plans with Adaline the second he was out of your earshot. Calling her up and setting a time for what’s currently taking up his primary focus. 

Because even though it was Adaline underneath him, for the very first time, that’s not who he imagined it was. 

Not who he just dragged a fourth orgasm out of with his fingers because he could. 

Because he would. He would be so much better. Give so much more. If only… 

Fuck.

Jungkook stands and drags his cock over Adaline’s entrance, whacking it against her clit a couple times before running the tip through her folds and pushing in. He hisses at the feeling. At who he was sinking into in his head, splayed out in front of him. Skin glistening with sweat mixed with arousal. Mouth open, slack jawed in pleasure. 

Adaline moans loudly and it dissolves his visual. 

His tattooed hand moves to hold her hands above her head, the other silences her mouth. 

“Quiet now,” he whispers, low and deep. A bead of sweat dripping off his brow, hair sticking to his neck and temple.

He intends it to be sexy for her, but in reality, he’s just sick of hearing her. It’s ruining his mental image. Not that she’ll ever know that though. 

To Adaline, this session is all about her and making her feel good. 

But constant screams and loud, pornographic moans aren’t appealing to him in the slightest. They're taking him out of the mood. Making him soft. 

Once or twice when it’s genuine? Sure. But the constant assault she loves to give his eardrums? Not even a little bit.

He sets a fast, rough pace, and Adaline’s eyes roll back in pleasure, screams finally subsiding in white hot bliss, replaced by bitten lips and smothered whimpers.

He is going to prove this point to himself over and over again. All night if he has to. 

And he has to.  

To get whatever it is he’s feeling for you out of his system.

To keep his sanity. 

To forget. 

And while it’s Adaline’s name is on his lips when he cums. 

It’s not the name he repeats in his head like a prayer. 

Chapter Seven: Hard Goodbyes and Favourite Colours

A/N 2: Thanks for waiting for this chapter. I'll try my best to have 7 out as soon as I can get it. I promise.

A/N 3: As always, Thank you for reading, loves. Xoxo - Yoon <3

<- Back

[organic-bloodbath]

Can you do a part three for Teach Ddakji to me plz

Teach Ddakji to me - Part 3

The Salesman x American!Reader

Summary: A stranger leads you towards unfolding the secrets of the man you've fallen in love with.

A/N: My people has been begging and i shall serve. Once again, i do not know what the hell i'm writing so i'm just vibing.

Part 1 - Part 2

♡♡

"I can explain," he said, putting the glasses and bottle on a side table. You kept holding the gun with your fingers.

"Yes?"

"It's only for protection, i promise," he insisted. "And it's not loaded."

You were silent, not sure exactly what to do or say.

He sighed. "When my dad was shot, i sort of got a gun to feel safer. He was killed in his own home, so getting a gun meant i could defend myself if anyone came here and tried to harm me as well."

You looked at him suspiciously, narrowing your eyes.

"I haven't used it, i swear," he promised, taking a step closer to you. You let out a sigh.

"Okay," you mumbled and shook your head. "Well, okay, i suppose."

He slowly put his hand on yours, grabbing the gun from your hold. You eventually let go of it and let him have it back.

"I can take it elsewhere if you're more comfortable then," he offered, afraid this was going to scare you away. You nodded and he went to take it to another room where you wouldn't have any business walking into.

You had never been a fan of guns. You knew people in the U.S. who had a gun at their homes but your family had never been one of those, as far as you were aware of.

You did feel bad and had sympathy for him the longer you thought about it. You couldn't imagine how bad trauma you would have if your own father was murdered, you didn't think you would be able to live anymore. You couldn't blame him for having sleepless nights and afraid for his own safety after that.

To be honest, if that happened to you, you would have gotten some sort of weapon into your home too, just in case someone would come after you too.

Soon he came back, a nervous look on his face now when he approached you slowly.

"Hopefully that didn't ruin the night?" he asked carefully and stepped in front of you.

"Do you have others in your house?" you asked. "Or like, anywhere?"

"That's the only one," he immediately swore.

He put his hand on your cheek and pushed a strand of your hair behind your ear. His warm touch always managed to relax and calm you down, forget all the worries in the world for a moment. He looked at you with all his love and kindness in his eyes, and you knew you could trust him.

"Let's grab the wine, hm?"

"Okay."

♡♡

He was meant to keep his work a secret from you. You couldn't find out about what he really did, no. You would instantly leave him, that was for sure, and he didn't want to think about that possibility. He only had to come up with more and more lies - but for how long? How long could he really keep up this facade around you? He had turned his back away from you for only one moment at his house and you already managed to find one of his guns.

Or would you leave him? Would you be okay with it after all? It would be so much easier to be able to explain everything to you. But he also knew he had to keep the games secret from any outsiders who wouldn't take a part in the game.

The look on your face haunted his mind the next day as well. You had looked at him in a way like you didn't know who you were dating after all.

And for the most parts, you didn't.

The look on your face had told him loud enough that he couldn't tell you about his true self – not now or in a long time.

Along with that, he had felt someone watching him outside. He wasn't sure who it could be, but he was certain that he was being followed by someone and he didn't like that feeling at all.

He had to find out who was trying to shadow him.

♡♡

The three of you were supposed to go for a dinner together soon, but your brother had to cancel last minute and changed the plans for tomorrow, making you frustrated.

"I'm so sorry, something came up," he had texted. "Let's meet up tomorrow, okay?"

There was always something that 'came up' when you tried to make plans with him. You tried to question what he meant but he wouldn't tell you, preferring to stay all secretive to his sister.

As you were driving home in the car your friend had borrowed you to use for a week, you were falling into your thoughts a little too hard, not paying as much attention to your surroundings as a good and responsible driver should have. Sooner than you realised, you were stopped by a traffic cop and had to pull over.

You saw a man look at you through the window, motioning you to roll your window down.

He said something in Korean to you which you couldn't really understand. He switched to English as he figured you were a foreigner.

"License, please?"

You grabbed it from your purse and handed it to the man.

"You were speeding a little," he stated.

"I know, i'm really sorry, i wasn't thinking."

"I'll have to write you a ticket, miss," he said seriously.

"I know," you sighed and closed your eyes, laying your forehead against your hand. "I really am sorry, i didn't mean to."

"Are you feeling alright?" the cop asked, a hint of worry in his voice – but only a little bit.

"Yeah, yeah, no problem."

Truth to be told, you weren't entirely fine. You had slept only couple of hours and had drank almost an entire a bottle of wine last night. You weren't really hangover right now, just suffered from a bad headache, for which a painkiller hadn't helped.

"Are you sure you're able to drive further?" he tried to confirm, unsure if he should just let you go with the ticket without questioning you further.

"I'm sure," you said but didn't sound believable even to your own ears.

"Could you step out of the car, please?"

You let out a deep breath and opened the door, stepping outside. He stood right in front of you, trapping you between himself and the car. He pulled a small flashlight from his pocket.

"Follow the light with your eyes."

You did as you were told, trying to act as cool as possible. You had been only once before pulled over on the road by a cop and that had been in America. You hadn't been sure if the protocols in Korea would be the same.

He turned the flashlight off and put it back into his pocket.

"Alright, you can go now," he nodded. Thank god he didn't actually believe you had been drunk driving.

Looking at his face closer, you could see that he was young and very handsome. If you weren't in a relationship and would have met him somewhere more... relaxed environment, you could imagine yourself starting a nice chat with him.

"Thank you, officer," you said politely in Korean before stepping back into the driver's seat, slipping the ticket into your purse. You tried to make atleast a little better impression with your poor Korean skills but weren't sure how correct the pronunciation really was.

"Have a good day, miss. And do pay your ticket on time."

♡♡

"Had a fun and eventful night with your man, i hope?" your roommate asked, one eyebrow up and teeth biting her lip to hide her smirk, failing on the simple task.

"Sure did," you answered and managed to make yourself smile. You wouldn't mention the gun part of the night to her, trying to brush the entire thing off your mind. "How about you? Found a hot guy at the club?"

"Oh, i definitely did," she answered. "He's some sort of a rapper, i think, though i had never heard of him. He gave me his phone number if we should catch up again some other day."

"Mhm, he gonna take you on a date?"

"Oh god no, all i want is to get into a bed with him again. He knows what he's doing," she stated seriously. "Besides, romantically i'm into more mature men, like that your hottie. Unfortunately you can't really find those men at the clubs where people our age go to."

Your roommate had met him a few times, but rather quickly, they hadn't had the chance to actually get to know each other since you didn't really bring him inside your apartment longer than a few minutes when he would come pick you up or bring you back home. But when he had met your roommate, he had acted as the most charming version of himself, like a man would act around a girl's parents when he'd meet them for the first time.

♡♡

"Okay, darling, i need to go to work for a few hours now to settle a few things," he said later that day as you were walking on the street together, his hand holding yours. He leaned down to kiss you on your lips.

"Come pick me up afterwards?" you asked with a smile.

"Of course, see you then," he smiled, pressing one more kiss on your lips, and turned his back to you, disappearing behind the next corner.

You took your phone from your pocket and was browsing a song on Spotify to listen to, until a man stopped you, stepping in front of you.

"Excuse me," the man said, making you turn around to face him. "You were with a man just a moment ago, dressed in a suit, right?"

"Um," you started, brows furrowed in confusion. "What's this about?"

"You were with a man in a suit?"

"Yes, but i-"

"Listen, i really need to find him. He's uh... a colleague of mine," he explained. "And i need to see him as soon as possible."

"Why do you need to see him?"

"We have some business to do. Work related," he quickly answered.

"Don't you have his phone number? Work phone or something?"

"I got a new phone and lost it."

"Just call to your workplace, maybe they can-"

"I don't have the time right now," he said, startling you with the tone of his voice. He noticed it and lowered his voice a little, not meaning to freak you out. "Could you just point the way, please?"

"Well, he didn't really say where he was going. Only that he had to go to work. Can't you meet him there?"

You narrowed your eyes, you could tell he acted very suspiciously. Did this man really know him? He had sounded so hesitant when telling how he knew him. Usually you weren't able to tell very easily when someone was lying to you, but right now even you could tell his behavior and reactions were too odd.

Besides, this guy was complete opposite than the man you knew, by the looks of him atleast. If they worked together and were on their way to work, you'd imagine this stranger would wear a suit too or something similar and cleaner.

♡♡

Gi-hun could tell that you were completely oblivious about the Recruiter or otherwise you were just a good actress to hide his secrets, refusing to tell his location. But you had looked completely lost with Gi-hun's approach to you and the talk about the man's work.

To be fair, he did probably look like a crazy person so he couldn't exactly blame you for not giving the information he so desperately needed.

Gi-hun hadn't thought about the Recruiter's private life, of course not, so it was strange to see a woman kiss him and hold his hand. He always seemed like only a pawn in this sick game to other people, since Gi-hun didn't even know his name either. The Recruiter always wore that same suit too, he felt like some sort of a default character in a game who had no proper development.

Which he basically was.

Gi-hun had lost his contact to the men he had hired to track down this man, until finally, his phone rang again.

♡♡

Of course you had grown too curious and suspicious about this stranger that you had to follow him wherever he was going.

Was it a good idea? Probably not, but you were still going to do it. It slowly started to rain, and of course you didn't carry an umbrella with you.

The man got a phone call, but you couldn't fully understand what he was saying since he spoke in Korean. You had studied Korean the best you could during the months you had been here and a little before you left America, but you couldn't translate complete conversations in your mind in just a few seconds. But you could hear some familiar words in the man's speech here and there. You could have probably understood more if he talked more slowly.

Where?

What?

Hotel?

Four?

The tone of his voice sounded panicked and rushed too, even more making you curious.

After a while he finished the call and put his phone back into his pocket. He started walking fast around the corner, soon starting to move faster and faster.

You quickly ran after him. You tried to make sure that he wouldn't see you if he happened to glance back over his shoulder, but you also couldn't lose the sight of him. You weren't exactly the fastest runner and would be out of breath soon, but luckily the distance to the destination wasn't too large.

Eventually, you ended up by a building, a hotel or hostel of some sorts. He went to the back of the building through a side alley, not entering through the front doors, which seemed to be locked by chains.

When you entered the hotel inside, you had lost the man, but you knew for sure that he had arrived here as well, right before you, so he couldn't be very far.

There was nobody else around, the place was totally empty, most of the lights were out and there were no sounds around you, forcing you to tiptoe even quieter not to make yourself known to anyone else possibly here. You didn't want a guard to find you trespassing, if there was one.

You started walking up the stairs, slowly and as quietly as possible, heart racing so fast you were afraid someone could hear it if they stood too close to you. You unintentionally held your breath as well out of this thick suspense what was going on.

Maybe this was completely unrelated to the man you loved. Maybe something else had come up with him and you were following a stranger somewhere private like a creep. Would this end up being a trap of some sorts?

Then, you heard speech somewhere in the fourth floor and walked towards the noise with even slower steps.

You were approaching one of the rooms where you heard two men talking to each other now much more clearly – the walls of this building seemed to be as thin as paper, since you had heard them already further away.

But then you noticed that the door wasn't closed, so you could easily open it without a sound and peek inside the room.

Two men were sitting at a table on the opposite sides, facing each other. It was that same man who had stopped you on the street. Your eyes widened on what you were witnessing right now.

He had a gun in his hand. It wasn't the same revolver which you had seen in his house.

"I used to work at the game too," he explained to the man with a calm voice. "Clearing and burning countless of bodies of people like you. I remember thinking: 'These things aren't human. They're just trash, they have no purpose in this world.' That's what i kept telling myself for a few years. One day they gave me a gun. I liked the way it felt. It was like someone had finally acknowledged my existence." He leaned back in his chair. "I don't know what year it was, but there was a man who lost, and i went over to shoot him. I recognised his face. Guess who it was?" He now leaned towards the man opposite him, his voice turning into a mere whisper, and you weren't sure if you heard it correctly or just imagined it. "My dad." You noticed a small smile lingering on his lips. "I was pointing the weapon at my very own father. And he begged me, tears in his eyes, to spare his life. You know what i did?" In under a second he lifted the gun and pointed it right towards the other man's face, who didn't even flinch. "I shot him right in the middle of his forehead and i realised: 'Huh, i guess i really am good at this'."

Your blood ran cold and all you wanted to do was to run away, but your legs refused to move at all. They shared a few more words but you couldn't concentrate on their conversation anymore. You felt like you weren't able to breathe. The ground beneath your feet was slowly failing you.

The next time you looked towards them, he pressed the gun on the man's forehead again, now actually pulling the trigger, making you slightly jump from the noise.

You were frozen on your place. What the hell were you supposed to do in this situation? Run away, confront them or call someone for help?

But as he moved the gun towards himself, inserting the gun deep inside his mouth, a playful smirk on his face, you had to act.

You tried to say something as you stepped towards the table from the shadows, finally able to make yourself move before he would be able to pull the trigger, but you couldn't get a word out of your mouth.

He let the gun slowly fall out of his mouth and his entire face turned pale like a ghost as he realised who had joined their little game. When his eyes met yours, you noticed something red on his cheek, and you instantly thought of it being someone else's blood, the same red splattered on the collar of his white shirt.

"Y/N? What are you doing here?"

This was the man who you had fallen in love with. A man who took you on sweet dates, took you into his warm embrace as you slept with him in the same bed, kissed you both softly and with passion... a man who opened up to you about his father's death and how someone had murdered him coldblood.

The murderer had been him all along. How could you be so naive and dumb? Had there been red flags which you had just missed?

Other than the damn gun at his house.

But now there sat only a man just couple of metres away from you who had just confessed on shooting his own father with his own gun. Pulling the trigger himself. And he had told it with a smile on his face.

He had lied to you this entire time. You wanted to shout and yell at him, then run away, but you couldn't move your body. Until he stood up.

Instantly, without hesitation you took a step back as he took one towards you, which made his heart break.

♡♡

A/N: I'm not sorry about the ending 🙂‍↔️ the last scene is obviously not 100% accurate to the show. Next part will take a while too so be patient with me 🫶🏻 if you want to be added or stay on the taglist, lmk.

Tags:

@k1ra-park3r

@aftersnrise

@sakurayashiro

@zmbiefiend

@preppyfella

[vinylfoxbooks]

February 15 - Barty Crouch Jr. | @into-the-jeggyverse | wc: 1,096 Final Part of Healer Apprentice James Part 1 | Part 2

James knows that they’re getting weird looks. People understand Sirius being here, he’s Regulus’ brother after all and their relationship has been greatly improving since they both agreed to come stay with James instead of their parents. However, James and Regulus are much more under wraps, so there’s many looks being sent their way -- understandably, the ‘Golden Boy’ of Gryffindor wearing a Slytherin tie and standing on the Slytherin side of the bleachers right next to Sirius, Pandora, Marlene, and Evan cheering on their friends and partners. 

It’s also how James is one of the first people to make it down to the field the second that Regulus goes down, their friends right after them. It’s how James is the first person not on a broom to make it to his fallen body, especially since Poppy is still up in the infirmary. 

Barty, who touched down next to Regulus just moments before James got to him, pushes their captain away and puts up a fight against him -- he’s understandably, trying to get James away from his seeker, but neither Barty nor James care. The others take to making a space around them to get the rest of the teams and anyone else that may have rushed forward away. 

James just focuses on keeping him stable, on checking over him, making sure his pulse is still there and his breathing is even before starting on the more in depth searches, pulling out their wand and doing scanning spells. They barely register when McGonagall and Slughorn get to them and are let in by their friends. 

McGonagall hunches down on the ground next to the two, putting her hand on James’ shoulder, “Talk to me, what’s going on with him.” 

James mindlessly prattles off what they’ve discovered so far to her, doing another spell to keep him stable in case Regulus’ body decides to give out. They barely register the terms falling from their lips, but they know that the woman is keeping up with it -- you can’t be married to the very person that taught James all of these terms for so long and not know how to keep up with it. 

McGonagall nods, “Alright, you, Mister Crouch, and Mister Black take him up to the medical wing. Your friends can go with you, I’ll deal with everything here. You’re dismissed, James.” James nods, thanks the woman, and calls for Barty and Sirius. The two come rushing over and help James pick their boyfriend up. The three of them make their way to the infirmary, Dorcas, Pandora, and Evan making a blockade around the three. James hands Regulus off to Barty while they go to prep a bed and Sirius goes to grab Poppy -- this looks like more than James is going to be able to do, let alone by themself. 

The woman comes rushing in, telling everyone but James to leave and give them space. Reluctantly, the group does so -- James thinks they hear something about Sirius going to get Remus and be back -- while the healer and her apprentice get to work on doing what they can to help Regulus. 

“It’s a good thing you’re a fan of quidditch.” Poppy says once they’re sure that Regulus is stable. James sits on the bed next to his head, watching his face, “I don’t tend to like those games and having you down there to jump in and do what you did today will be a great help and worry off my back.” She laughs gently, her crow’s feet wrinkling at the motion, “Perhaps I should take on apprentices more often.” 

James smiles at her, the dread they had been feeling slowly ebbing from their chest now that they’re sure he’s stable and they know what they can do to check on him at any point, “I’m sure it would be nice.” 

Poppy stands up and puts a hand on their shoulder like she tends to do, “He’ll be okay. Have faith in your capabilities.” And with that, she walks out of the area, going to do something else. Their friends fill into the small area soon after that, bombarding James with questions about how Regulus is doing. They reassure the group, saying that he’s stable and going to be asleep for a while but they’re monitoring him. They’re informed that Remus and Pandora -- the most rational of the group currently -- went to go see the aftermath of the attack, because they all know that this wasn’t an accident, but will be back soon. 

Sirius is the last person to leave after a while, though he seems about starving, so James tells him to go ahead, perhaps even bring up some food for his friend and brother and reassuring him that they’ll be there when Regulus wakes up, no matter their duties with the other patients in the infirmary. Sirius nods reluctantly, whispering, “I’m glad he has you to take care of him.” And walking away. 

Regulus wakes up not long after that, just as James is finishing up with their rounds and has sat back down on the bed, “Sorry, did I wake you?” They reach out to run their hands through his hair, hopefully helping him come back to reality, “How are you feeling?” 

“Like shit.” Regulus grumbles quietly, moving to sit up. 

James stops him, “I’m sorry, love, but you can’t sit up right now.” They laugh gently at his groan, “I know, I know, but it’s just going to make the injury worse. I can get you another pain draught if you want.” Regulus nods and they stand to grab one that he’s allowed to take right now, handing it off to him. He drinks it gratefully, asking about what happened. James fills him in, running their hands through his hair and along his face. 

“Thank you, Jamie.” Regulus hums, his eyes growing lidded again. James smiles at him and is going to tell him to get more rest, but then Sirius is coming in with some food for them, Barty and Evan in tow, and James is moving to help him sit up in a way that isn’t going to disturb his healing and running another screening spell to assure their friends that he’s doing fine. 

James, unfortunately has to leave him to sleep in their own dorm, but they promise to him that they’ll check on him bright and early, leaning down to press a kiss to his lips, “I’m glad you’re okay.” 

“I’m glad I have you to take care of me.” 

They smile at him gently, “Always and forever.”

[infini-tree]

episodic - part 4

< back | next >

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

Summary: Everyone doubles down.

A/N: alternative chapter summary: Melvin Has A Normal Day.

once again thank you art of book for listing all the faculty names and subjects. 

on that note: Melvin's characterization. since this au is primarily based on movie continuity, in the end i decided to defer to its lead. which makes things difficult, as most of his inventions were all pretty lowkey (and the turbo toilet had been further augmented by a third party), and some future plots hinge on his more OP inventions. scene 2 is meant to bridge the character gap between all his incarnations, and also narratively sets some stuff up for this AU. i did say he's a core secondary,

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

With the final bell rung, Benjamin made quick work of packing his suitcase. Considering how fast the kids ran out of the school, the halls should be quiet now. The last thing he needed was noise and talking. And so, he stepped out into a reception room filled with faculty. 

Not just talking– yelling. At him.

He glanced over to Anthrope, who should have shooed them all away. Her now-empty seat was still swivelling. 

“Of course,” he grumbled.

“Whadd'ya mean 'of course'?” Rected griped.

“We’re up to our eyelids in marking these brats’ worksheets!” Ribble waved a stack of papers at his face– all from the impromptu beach day, if he read the date right. “And you expect us to mark an entire grade’s worth of volcano projects?!”

“Clearly it's not just the students that need to apply themselves.” 

The rest of the teachers froze.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” He narrowed his eyes, his tone still as clipped from the announcements. “Aren’t you the one always complaining about their marks?”

“Well, yes, but–”

“But nothing, you're the one who insisted on teaching three subjects.” He moved on to other teachers. “Meaner, you’re only doing the running tests– I don’t see why you’re complaining. The most you have to do is make sure they don’t trip over their own shoelaces.”

“The papers–”

“Because its so hard keeping track of when kids stop running.” He turned to Guided. “And you– all the tests are based on stuff your class should have covered by now.”

Guided grumbled something about how the topics were from the start of the semester, no one remembers that.

“Dayken–” Said teacher jolted up from the back. “What are you even doing here? You're a kindergarten teacher.”

“I wanted to feel included--”

“In any case, all I’m hearing–” He pointed an accusatory finger at all of them. “Is that all of you are mad that you need to actually do your job.”

“Excuse you?!” Ribble shot back. No other teachers spoke up.

“Yeah, that’s what I’m trying to do before you barged in here.” He pointed at Rected and Ribble. “You have until the end of the week to make it work.”

He could feel something tighten in his chest flare as he saw the teachers back off. It wasn’t relief, but it was a near thing. At least he wasn’t on the back foot. 

“Dismissed.” The tone broached no argument.

The impromptu staff meeting ended– not with a bang, but a whimper. More accurately, it was a grumble of swears that cannot be recounted in a fanwork made for general audiences. He watched all the teachers skulk out of the room with a leveled glare. 

None of them dared to look back.

If we could have, we would have. Who else would agree?

He stood there until he was absolutely sure he couldn’t hear anyone nearby. After that, it was just a matter of going down the steps. Of making it through the hallway. 

Ignoring how unmoored he felt. He looked to his feet– left, right, left, right. Repeat until he was at the door.

It wasn’t the first time anyone would have thought that about him. Heck, it wasn’t the first time the quiet part was said out loud. It was, however, the first time it was actually doable.

Someone tapped him on the shoulder. “Hey, Ben?”

“Guh–” He whirled around. “Edith!”

She blinked. He stared. The silence lingered a bit too long for his liking, though it was clear she wanted to say something. 

“Do you need anything?” he managed.

“Are you alright?” When no answer came, she continued to trail off. “I mean, I– I saw everyone goin’ up to your office. And then there was the announcement earlier, so–”

“Of course I am.”

Another blink. “O– oh, uh, ok, then…”

“OK, then.” 

Edith persisted. She trailed behind him closely as he came closer to the door. Most days he’d be a little endeared to it, but right now, right now–

“So, where are you going to set up this whole ‘science fair’? You, uh. Forgot to mention it.”

Of course he did. “The cafeteria. It has the space for it.”

He held a hand up to the door. 

“I guess the floors have to be cleaned early…” she mumbled. “Uh, hey– wait!”

He had barely half-opened it.

“If you need anything, just ask, OK?” Then, in a lower voice, she added: “I don’t know why you’re actually doin’ this, but–”

His hand was gone as he whipped back to look at her. “Actually?” he snapped back. 

“I– I know you, and you wouldn’t be doin’ this without a reason.”

“Know me?”

His rage was already so spent– from the boys, the teachers, the other guy, it can only persist for so long. It doesn’t billow out so much as burn him out from the inside. And when pushed that far, something had to give.

“It took you a month to realize I wasn’t being an idiot on purpose,” he said. “The real question is why didn't I do it sooner.” 

Edith’s eyes widened and her shoulders shrank at the remark. Guilt curdled in him, but it was a distant thing. He wanted to leave. He wanted to reach out and take it back. His body chose the worst compromise between the two and made him stand there like an idiot.

“OK then.” She looked away. “Um, I guess I’ll prep the cafeteria for it then.”

“OK then,” was all Benjamin could manage before she left to do just that. Which was fine. That’s what he wanted, right? He needed to get going too.

Left, right, left, right. Car. Drive. He forced himself to focus on the road completely. To hold onto the wheel like a lifeline. And it worked. At least until he hit the first red light– and then the thoughts crept in.

He should have said something different. He should have said it differently. What kind of answer was I should have done it sooner, anyway? 

His knuckles turned bone-white at his grip. 

Still, he felt unmoored– like a sharp turn would make him leap out of his own body, and– If we could have, we would have, George’s voice rattled in his head. They had the motive, and they had shown time and time again they had the means. 

And yet here he still was: sweating in sixty-degree weather.

He wasn’t sure what that meant, but it was yet another thing to mull over and hang over the other guy.

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

For the next two days, the elementary school was a minefield for George and Harold. Which was why they found themselves stumbling around a corner and quickly entering the nearest empty classroom. The small mob ran past the corner none the wiser.

Harold gave a forlorn look to the stack of comics in his arms. “I don’t know how much of the sales can take this.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it.” George placed a hand to the other boy’s shoulder. “We’ll figure it out. Together.”

A pause. The other boy gave a cautious look around, now that they had a moment to breathe.

“Well, maybe put that on hold for five minutes, what the heck is up with this classroom?”

The classroom looked normal for the most part– if you ignored the absurd number of desks. There had to be triple the amount– several stacked up on each other like a fortress or maze walls. One precarious tower looked further away than it should be possible in a room this size, but it could easily be tiny desks.

“What the…”

“You two!” a voice cried.

“Ah!” Harold yelled.

“Ah!” George yelled with a little jump.

‘Ah,’ Melvin did not yell. Instead, he said: “I’m surprised you two aren’t out for recess.”

They were still standing by the door so there was no chance of him sneaking past them, and his shock of ginger hair would have stood out if he had decided to stay in. 

“Yeah, well, I’m surprised you, uh… you…” George said, letting the statement hang. “-- That you’re not working on something for that pop science fair.”

Melvin didn't react. He didn’t know whether it was better or worse– especially after Krupp made that dreaded announcement.

“What is it this time?” he continued, gesturing to the desks. “Something that increases the amount of class per classroom?"

"A scale model of the school’s pop science fair-- with additional statistics?” Harold added.

“Something to make people remember why they went into a room!” George added with a laugh, before snapping to a more contemplative look. “No wait, that’d actually be… not half-bad.”

“Hm. I’ll make a note of those,” Melvin said as he continued to stand there and not do that. The conversation lulled into silence a beat longer than comfortable. Before they could speak up, he added: “And for your information, I am working on it. Hold on.”

The both of them gave another cautious once-over to the room. The room– outside of the weird amount of desks– looked normal. It looked free of any invention, save for the muffled rattling noise. George had even peeked behind the teacher’s desk on the off chance it was hidden. 

“What do you mean hold on? There isn’t anything here.”

Melvin didn’t answer. 

Instead, the walls and some of the surrounding fixtures started shimmering different colors before settling on the color of error bars you see on TV.

Harold jumped away from a nearby desk he was leaning on as he felt it shift and become less sturdy, wobbling like heat hazes. As they lifted up to the ceiling, the whir had become a fraction louder.

“What’s going on?” he turned around. “Melv– ah!”

George let out a yell, seeing Melvin’s shape shimmer until he was a mass of red and greens. He ran to him, and his first instinct was to try and grab where his shoulder was. All his fingers met was air. Then thin strands as his hand sailed past where his shoulders would be and into the now-clump of what was the tattletale.

“Melvin!”

The strands rose up and darted away like all the other ones until they were standing in a regular classroom with its usual amount of desks and a third smaller than it looked before.

“He was too young!” George said.

“It should have been me!” Harold threw himself to the ground, bashed a fist against it, and stopped. He thought for a moment before continuing in the same dramatic cadence: “OK, I take it back, that’s a bit too much, but you get it!”

“Are you two done yet?” 

“I swear I can still hear his voice, even now–” the boy whipped his head around so fast his tie went askew. “Melvin!”

He got out of his overdramatic kowtow. “What the heck?!”

“Like I said, I’m working on the Warp-Weft-O-Tron 2000,” he said like it would explain everything. “Stress-testing it, to be more accurate.”

“The wh–” Before George could finish his sentence, the other boy stood up and pointed at the whirring thing behind Melvin.

In the corner of the classroom, around some tools and papers was something that took the space of two desks. Upon closer inspection, it looked like a sewing machine grafted beside a blocky computer . The needle continued its work and its now-unobscured rattling.

They all followed the threads converged to the machine, now completely colorless. They could just barely see the shiny thread zip through it and up the machine until even that thread dissipated. And once it did, the needle made its final whirring before powering down.

The adrenaline of seeing a kid disintegrate, like the strings a few seconds ago, dissipated to incredulity. 

“What kind of science is that thing for–” Harold pointed an accusatory finger at the machine. “Freak-People-Out-ology?!”

“It's built on the principles of techno-textiles and a bit of virtual simulation.” Melvin clicked his pen a few times before pointing it at them. “How about you two?”

“Huh?”

That was apparently the wrong answer as he put a finger to his temple. “I’m merely curious what you’re working on, seeing as Krupp’s announcement said you two suggested the pop science fair.”

And you believe him? George wanted to say, before answering his own question– of course he’d believe that.

Or at the very least, he wouldn’t cast further doubt. Doubting Krupp would mean doubting The Man. Plus, grades were on the line, and that was top priority to the tattletale than trying to think through whether they would ever suggest that.

It had only occurred now to George that that was the reason why Melvin wasn’t automatically on the defensive.

“We’re, uh– keeping it under wraps,” Harold said, realizing the other boy was taking too long to reply.

“Of course.” Melvin nodded in understanding as he made his way to the Warp-Weft-O-Tron and pulled out a spool the size of a lava lamp sitting on top of the sewing machine half. Its threads were soot grey and frayed. He placed it to the side and put an empty spool in its place, but not without grumbling about the material being insufficient.

“I will admit, the sudden nature of this assessment adds a wrench to everything, but– nothing like the stress of an unforeseen deadline to get everything in gear.”

Harold stared at the machine, and then to the boy still engrossed in fixing… whatever. In gear was an understatement if he made a simulation machine on a time crunch.

“You were really holding out on us all these years,” George said, eyeing the computer.

Rows of code scrolled up its screen. Most of it was gibberish, but there were parts he could understand. A record of previous commands and whether it was typed out or recorded through audio. S., MELVIN x1, DESK x15, and more distressingly, a MATERIAL PROCESS WARNING, whatever that was.

“How’d a sock sorter beat this out when you were picking out stuff for the Invention Convention?”

He poked around a nearby toolbox– which was more of a folder of assorted squares of materials. Many of them looked like normal threads, but a good chunk of them weren’t, from how the light bounced off them. 

“Firstly: it's a sock matcher. Secondly: Krupp only accepts the ‘practical’ ones–” He pulled out a square of the latter and placed it in an adjacent slot. Something between contemplation and annoyance edged into his tone. “The Turbo Toilet was pushing it. But, the pop science fair has no such restrictions!” 

“...It doesn’t?”

A thread the same color as the square spat out of some unseen cavity and began wrapping itself around the spool.

“I asked Ms. Ribble about the specificities for this assignment, and she said, and I quote: ‘sure, do what you need to do’.”

George and Harold both sucked a breath through their teeth. Unlike the tattletale, they knew that wasn’t full permission, so much as the classic grown-up tactic of dismissing a kid by giving them a vague answer to sate them.

“Guess not even tattling can get you all the perks you want,” Harold said carefully.

Melvin stopped typing on the computer part of the machine for a moment. With him faced away, they weren’t sure what expression was on his face, but they could feel a shift. Nothing as drastic as what happened in the principal’s office, but it was there.

“You should go.” It wasn’t a suggestion. “I need to troubleshoot.” 

Harold looked to the clock. Recess was almost over, which meant their opportunities to prepare were dwindling.

“Right,” George said.

And they slipped back into an empty hallway. They looked back, and through the window-sliver on the door, they could see the threads shoot up and around the room. The classroom became a black void, though it slowly made its way along the color spectrum.

“What do you think?” Harold asked.

“That our playground street cred is in the gutter at this rate,” George replied.

He gave him a light punch on the arm. Despite everything they couldn’t help but laugh, the sound echoing through the hall. 

“We could use it in the Captain Plan,” Harold replied. “It might be a little difficult to, ah–”

“Turbo Toilet it?” George finished, thinking back to the Invention Convention. He watched as Melvin tried to recalibrate it. “It’s a pretty big wildcard.”

As if on cue, after a few basic prisms popped into existence in the classroom, a rough approximation of a cat did. That, apparently, was too much as the simulation spooled itself back up like before. 

“But I think we do need a wildcard. It'd drive Krupp up the wall.”

Harold winced. “Well, I mean it can’t make anything worse.”

The both of them walked off to the abandoned art room. Harold shuffled his backpack to the front of him as he counted up the supplies he pilfered. To name a few: flour and water to make glue on the fly. Baking soda and vinegar, because those were Classics. Toilet paper– ‘nuff said.

He stared at a box labelled Office Supplies. In it were huge packs of sticky notes, for irony.

As wrong as Melvin was about whose idea the pop science fair was, he was right, frustratingly, about one thing: nothing like the stress of a deadline to get everything in gear.

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

The Captain Plan was one of their simpler plans, in theory. 

It was simple in the sense that it was meant to only target Krupp. The hard part, for obvious reasons, was that Captain Underpants was integral to said plan.

It amounted to swapping them out at strategic places they set up. Things he can’t stand. Things that he’d be afraid of. Long enough for the experience to stick. Then they’d swap him back to Captain and slowly amp it up. Rinse and repeat.

They’d keep doing this until he took everything back– the whole assignment gauntlet, the whole thing with the science fair–

The whole capital T Thing with Captain. 

And if he refused, well– there wasn’t anything else for it except to rinse and repeat until he did. They’ve got almost half a decades’ worth of grievances to pull back up. 

(“Krupp won’t– can’t expel us for this,” George said the night before, his form backlit by a jumbo flashlight. “I mean, he’ll need us to ‘deal’ with Captain.”

The Treehouse’s windows were boarded up to get ready for the colder weather. They should be prepping it for winter, putting stuff away so it won’t get messed up, since they insisted they didn’t need George’s parents’ help, but here they were– 

“I mean, he could hold us back now.”

“But would he really want to keep us there if we keep doing this?”

Harold shivered. “Point taken.”)

The walkie-talkie in Harold’s pocket made a noise. 

“Yyyello’.”

“How’s it going?”

Right now, the ‘it’ in question was scoping out the cafeteria. The tables were all neatly arranged in rows and ready for whatever project the fourth graders will put on them later. There was no one here save for Edith, who was deep in the kitchen.

“Melvin’s stuff is here.” 

He made his way over to the Warp-Weft-shaped tarp. After double checking for any Tattle-Turtles, he was disappointed to find no obvious screws to loosen at the access hatch.

Harold began pulling at the spool on top, unsure of how exactly to mess it up outside of tying the thread in knots. One end of the thread snaked its way to the needle, while the other end–

The other end came out of a small hole, which in turn was connected to the strange hatch Melvin put in that material square that one time. He pulled out a pair of undies, courtesy of Captain himself, and stuffed it into the slot.

The sewing machine whirred, clearly having difficulty with processing a non-square material. The thread didn’t move to spool itself, but it must have processed it by the way the underpants were disappearing in the slot.

As for the computer: it reminded him more of the school printer. There were menus upon menus of settings. In any case, Harold set out to randomly poking at them all. Some he understood– audio commands on, because that may be useful for their plan since it would be easier than trying to get close to type anything out. Everything else?

“...What the heck is a Young’s Module?” Harold asked, less out of curiosity and more to commentate for George’s benefit. “What do you think? Max or minimum?”

“I mean, Krupp’s pretty old…” his voice crackled through the walkie talkie.

“High it is!” And with that, he quickly swiped it as far to the right as he could before quickly closing everything out to the first screen. “OK, I’ll get back to y–”

“Ben!” Edith’s voice called out from across the cafeteria.

Harold ducked under the tarp before either of them could see him.

“We got a situation. Krupp’s here,” he whispered loudly.

“What? Why?!”

Harold hazarded to peek at the small gap between the tarp and the floor. He had been expecting like-liking goo-goo talk. If he had to be honest, he would have preferred that to whatever angry inspector routine Krupp was doing.

“Checking, I think.” 

He tilted his head at the principal running a finger over a table for dust. The action was clearly more for acting out… whatever this was, than any actual concern for cleanliness. The lunch lady continued to trail behind him, trying– and failing– to start a conversation.

There was a quick inhaling noise through the speakers. “OK, give me a minute. Move when I give the signal.”

Harold didn’t reply, mostly because they were close enough that he could hear them. Even from this distance, he could see how heavy the bags under his eyes were. How his posture was more hunched than usual.

Krupp sighed deeply, and his shoulders sagged even further. “I’ve been through worse. Trust me.” It almost sounded like a plea.

The lunch lady had no time to dwell on a response as the intercom screeched to life.

“Principal Krupp, please report to your office immediately,” George’s voice crackled through the intercom with a mock-smug air.

“Oh, for–” Said principal ran past her brusquely that the pin that was keeping her bangs up over her face had jostled to cover half her eye.

The signal!

“Good talk!” she called after him belatedly, but made no move to go after him. Then with a big sigh, she mumbled, “I’m blowin’ this.”

And with that, she made her way back to the kitchen and finally gave Harold an opening to get out of there. He made a mad dash to the doors, making sure to not slam it as he trailed him. Now that he was in the hallway, the faint sound of crackling and shuffling echoed throughout.

“Hey, how far is he from the office?” George asked, his voice crackling from both walkie talkie and still-active intercom.

“He’s making his way up as we speak.” 

“Cool.”

Krupp was up the first half of the stairs when he turned around. He was breathing heavily, and it was definitely not just because he was speed-walking up the stairs.

“You two have got a lot of nerve disrupting everything–”

“You’re one to talk,” Harold replied, thinking about the pop science fair coming up in a few hours. To all their years in school. To the capital T Thing with Captain.

The principal halfway down a step to approaching him until–

SNAP. The sound reverberated through the school intercoms. For a split second he saw something cross his face. Wide eyes. Furrowed brows.

And then Captain Underpants fell on said face.

He snapped back up, the toupee sitting lopsided on his head. “Sidekick! Where’s–”

Harold held up the walkie talkie. 

“Up here,” George replied.

He gave an unsure look as he tried to find where up was in relation to a walkie talkie.

“In the office,” Harold clarified. He walked past him and up the stairs, motioning him to follow.

Captain stood up, wiping the grit from his cheek. It might be because he took a heck of a tumble, but there wasn’t the typical shock of liveliness he expected when he swapped in. All things considered, he was… well, maybe not calm, but expectant.

George was standing at the receptionist half of the office, one of the curtains tucked under his arm. 

“You ready?” Then, in a stage whisper to Harold: “Anthrope’s gone off because of… ‘printer repairs’.”

Harold stared at the empty corner of the room. There was a smattering of printer ink at the walls, outlining the office printer that was not there anymore. They couldn’t help but snicker conspiratorially.

“Er,” Captain leaned over to look at what had got their attention. “What’s the plan to Free The Children now, sidekicks?” 

“We’re putting Krupp through his own personal gauntlet.”

“I don’t think it’ll take long for him to crack.” Harold gave him a reassuring pat on the arm. “We’ll make sure of it. Everything’ll be back to the way it was faster than–”

“A speeding waistband?” the superhero offered. He was definitely hiding it as he shimmied out of the principal’s clothes and put on his cape, but that same look was back on his face. 

“Exactly.”

“Where do we start?” He approached the ink stains on the wall, as if expecting the answer to pop out of the mess.

“Uh, Captain?” George pulled his attention back to the door of the principal’s office. He opened it with an overdramatic flourish. “Just step into our office for this first bit.”

Harold let out a low whistle at the sight. Every surface of the room was covered in sticky notes, leaving the room in an unsightly pale yellow that made the room look flat. Between the writing and the shadows, it did little to help figure out where everything was as Captain nearly tripped on a chair.

“What do you think of our Prankovation 2– trademark?”

Captain took to floating, mindful not to touch anything. He looked confused– he probably didn’t get things like irony yet. “…How long did this even take you?”

“Prankster’s trade secret.”

“This looks done, though,” he hedged. “I’m not sure how I’m supposed to help you here– especially with this–”

He gestured to his wrists, now tied together by jump rope courtesy of Harold. The boy went over to the sticky notes-engulfed water cooler and poured out a thimble’s amount into an open hand.

“For this one, we need to swap you back over to Krupp,” George explained. Seeing the superhero's disappointed look, he quickly continued: “This part's quick-- we're going to bring you back right after for the next bit.” 

“O– OK, then sidekicks. I trust you.” Captain twisted around so his face was in patting distance. This close, he could see the expression for what it was– hesitation.

And Captain was gone, leaving Krupp to fall on the floor, a flutter of pale yellow in his wake.

[h4nj1sunggg]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄 - ( h. jisung. )

pairing: han jisung x criminalfem!reader. [ mention of other characters and the rest of the skz members ]

genre: fluff, angst, strangers to ?

words: 3.9k

summary: In a world where a mysterious illness has turned animals into aggressive, uncontrollable creatures, the global elite plans a ruthless solution: the complete eradication of all wildlife with a lethal gas. You think it’s all wrong and want to save them by infiltrating a gathering of politicians to gather all the information - not realising how dangerous is.

triggers: sensitive theme of killing animals, be aware of that. y/n has heterochromia (green-blue eyes), she's strongly an animal lover. hanji is not an idol but he's famous in a sort of way?, y/n feels like 'the one'

ᯓᡣ𐭩　  ( masterlist )  .

author note: if you see any similarities with the tv series Zoo, no you didn't!! /j I took inspiration from it. :3 work unfinished!

The room buzzed with low murmurs as Dr. Elara Fenwick stepped to the podium, her stern expression silencing the chatter. The faint hum of machinery in the sleek conference hall underscored the weight of what was about to be said. She adjusted her glasses and began, her voice measured but heavy with concern.

“Ladies and gentlemen, what we are witnessing is unprecedented in the natural world—a cascade of symptoms and behaviors that defy previous understandings of biology and virology. We are calling it the 'Thanatos Syndrome'.

It began as isolated cases: a pack of wolves in the northern wilderness turning on one another. A pod of dolphins attacking boats unprovoked. At first, it seemed random—outliers in a chaotic system. But the data now paint a far darker picture. This is not regional. This is not species-specific. This is a global phenomenon.”

She clicked a button on her remote, and the projection screen behind her flickered to life. A rotating 3D image of a virus appeared, its spiky surface glowing ominously.

“The pathogen, classified as ZV-129, is a biogenetic anomaly unlike anything we’ve encountered. It does more than infect—it rewrites, mutate the animals. Our analysis shows that the virus is capable of triggering latent ghost genes within the DNA of infected organisms. These genes, long dormant and largely unstudied, appear to be evolutionary relics—programming designed to amplify aggression and survival instincts. But that’s not all,” she continued, clicking to the next slide.

It displayed a strand of DNA with three interwoven segments highlighted. “We’ve also identified triple-helix DNA structures emerging in infected subjects. This alteration strengthens physical resilience, enhances sensory acuity, and increases aggression to indomitable levels. However, it also destabilizes cellular functions, leading to eventual breakdown and death.”

The image changed again, this time showing a glowing pair of eyes—predatory and unblinking.

“And then there is what we’ve dubbed the indomitable pupil phenomenon. Infected animals’ eyes show an unusual luminosity under infrared light, and they exhibit a psychological shift that makes them immune to fear or pain. These creatures are operating at peak physical and psychological efficiency, but only for a limited time before their bodies burn out. Yet, during that window, they are near unstoppable.”

The room was silent, save for the occasional uneasy shuffling. Dr. Fenwick’s voice grew sharper.

“This is not a localized crisis. It is a rewriting of nature’s rules. ZV-129 is turning the animal kingdom into a battlefield—and humanity is on the front lines. A single infected predator can devastate entire ecosystems. Even herbivores have displayed aggressive behavior, attacking humans and other species indiscriminately.”

She paused, her gaze steely as she surveyed the room.

“Some among us propose eradication—a preemptive strike to exterminate entire species before the virus spreads further. Others, myself included, believe there is another way. If we can isolate the ghost gene triggers, dismantle the triple DNA sequence, and understand the mechanisms behind the indomitable pupil phenomenon, we may find a way to reverse the damage.”

Her voice softened, tinged with desperation.

“The clock is ticking. What we decide here, today, will shape the future of life on Earth. Let us not be remembered as the generation that surrendered to fear and sacrificed the natural world. Let us be the generation that fought for coexistence.”

"We gotta kill 'em all." A whisper, a light voice from the very back of the room where the general Marx Oz is standing, next to the president.

The first time that you went out in the woods that is behind your house you were 10 years old, a wolf surprised you in a very unique way - he wasn't afraid of you like the others.

You stood frozen, your breath misting in the cool evening air as the wolf emerged from the shadows of the trees. His fur was a silvery gray, almost shimmering under the faint light filtering through the canopy above. His golden eyes locked onto yours, unblinking, calculating.

Unlike the deer that bolted at the slightest crack of a twig or the foxes that slinked away before you could catch more than a glimpse of their tails, this wolf held his ground. He even stepped closer.

Your pulse quickened, but not with fear—at least, not entirely. There was something about the way he looked at you, as though he were trying to read you, to understand you.

“Hey there,” you murmured, your voice low and soothing. You didn’t move, afraid any sudden motion might break whatever strange connection had formed between you.

The wolf tilted his head, his ears twitching. For a moment, you could swear his gaze flicked from your left eye to your right—as if he’d noticed your mismatched colors. A soft growl rumbled from his chest, not threatening but inquisitive, like a question you couldn’t comprehend.

You crouched down slowly, keeping your movements deliberate. The wolf didn’t flinch, didn’t retreat. Instead, he took another step forward, his paws crunching softly against the leaves.

“You’re different,” you whispered, almost to yourself.

And he was. There was an intelligence in his eyes that didn’t belong to an ordinary animal. It sent a shiver down your spine, but you couldn’t look away. He was mesmerizing, dangerous, and yet… calming in a way you couldn’t explain.

When he was close enough for you to hear his breathing, he stopped. For a moment, you both just stared at each other, two beings connected by an unspoken understanding. Then, just as suddenly as he’d appeared, the wolf turned and darted back into the forest, his form melting into the darkness.

You stayed there for a long moment, your heart racing. Something about that encounter felt profound, like the beginning of something you couldn’t yet name.

That night, you couldn’t sleep. You lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying the moment over and over in your mind. The way the wolf had looked at you—directly into your eyes, not like prey, not like a threat, but like something else entirely.

The next day, you ventured into the woods again. And the day after that. It became a ritual. You never saw the wolf again, but the woods felt alive in a way they hadn’t before. As if he were still watching, hidden just beyond the trees.

Until one evening, you heard the growl again—low and unmistakable.

This time, it wasn’t just one.

-

From that moment, you realised something you hadn’t before: animals were better than any human being you’d ever known. Their honesty, their instincts, the way they didn’t pretend or manipulate—they lived in harmony with a world that humans seemed determined to destroy.

The wolf’s golden eyes stayed with you long after that first encounter. You thought about how he hadn’t feared you, hadn’t attacked, but had simply seen you. It made you wonder how many animals looked at humans and only saw a threat.

That’s when your focus shifted. School had always been something you just trudged through, never finding a subject you cared enough about to dive into. But now, your purpose was clear. You threw yourself into biology, devouring textbooks and documentaries about wildlife, ecosystems, and, eventually, veterinary science.

You started spending more time with animals than people. At first, it was just volunteering at the local shelter, patching up stray dogs and comforting frightened cats. But even there, among creatures who’d been hurt and abandoned, you found a kind of trust and loyalty you’d rarely experienced with people.

As the years passed, you grew more skilled and more determined. You knew that being a veterinarian wasn’t just about treating injured pets; it was about being an advocate for the voiceless, for those who couldn’t fight for themselves.

Still, the wolf haunted your thoughts. He’d become a symbol for you—a reminder of the natural world’s quiet resilience and its fragility in the face of human arrogance.

You wondered if he’d survived the outbreak of Thanatos Syndrome that the news had started whispering about. The sickness was spreading faster now, infecting wildlife and creeping closer to human settlements. Every time you saw another story about attacks or mass cullings, your heart sank. You couldn’t shake the image of the wolf, or the way he’d looked at you that day.

“You’re different,” you’d said to him. But maybe you were different too.

The moment the idea struck you, it was as if your entire life had been leading up to it. If no one else was going to protect these creatures, then you would. It wasn’t just about being a vet anymore. It was about fighting for the balance of a world teetering on the edge of collapse.

And if that meant stepping into danger to save animals from both the sickness and the people who wanted to destroy them, then so be it.

The first time you read about Thanatos Syndrome, the name alone sent a chill down your spine. Thanatos—the Greek god of death. Fitting, considering what the sickness had already done to the animal kingdom.

It started with a curiosity, a desperate need to understand. The reports you’d seen on the news were sensationalized: “Animals Gone Mad!” “Killer Wildlife Spreads Chaos!” But behind the panic and headlines, you sensed there was more—something deeper and more complex.

Your initial research began in veterinary school, pouring over pathology journals and viral studies in your rare moments of free time. As your peers studied routine cases like canine distemper or equine colic, you delved into obscure virology papers, tracing the threads of how the illness had first emerged.

Thanatos Syndrome wasn’t just a sickness—it was an unraveling, a real mutation.

Through access to online databases and connections you’d built with a few forward-thinking professors, you pieced together the puzzle piece by piece. The virus targeted neurological pathways with surgical precision, amplifying aggression while suppressing fear and pain responses. This wasn’t accidental—it was engineered by nature in a way that suggested a purpose.

Animals realised that they are not a prey to the human being anymore, but they are the predators. From the ants to the lions.

The most haunting discovery was what you and others called the indomitable pupil phenomenon. Infected animals exhibited a strange luminescence in their eyes under specific wavelengths of light. You hypothesized that this wasn’t just a symptom—it was the visual representation of neural overdrive. The infected weren’t just fighting—they were operating on a level beyond survival, driven by a primal, unrelenting force.

You submitted papers and proposals to your professors, some of whom were fascinated by your findings. Others dismissed your theories as alarmist, insisting that Thanatos Syndrome was simply a mutation of existing viruses. But you knew better. The data didn’t lie.

The true horror came when you began to see patterns in your own fieldwork. Animals you treated—strays, rescues, even beloved pets—started exhibiting subtle signs. A stray dog’s sudden aggression toward the people of the shelter, trying to attack them. A bird crashing into its cage repeatedly, seemingly unable to stop itself. The syndrome was creeping into urban environments, unnoticed by most but glaringly obvious to you.

Your frustration grew as the political response to the outbreak became more extreme. Governments proposed mass cullings of wildlife, ignoring the ecological disasters this would inevitably cause. They weren’t interested in understanding the virus—only in eradicating it.

You refused to accept that as the only solution.

You began studying alternative approaches, branching into genetic editing and virology. What if the ghost genes could be suppressed instead of activated? What if the viral pathways could be blocked? Every answer raised more questions, and every question deepened your determination.

Your work consumed you. Days turned into weeks, then months. You pushed your body to its limits, fueled by caffeine and a stubborn refusal to give up. Every discovery was a step closer to a solution, but also a reminder of how far you still had to go.

The world outside grew darker with each passing day. News of attacks, mass extinctions, and government crackdowns filled the airwaves. Yet, amidst the chaos, you clung to hope—a fragile, unyielding belief that there was still a way to save the animals.

And maybe, just maybe, save yourself too.

Despite all your research, all the sleepless nights spent dissecting the intricacies of Thanatos Syndrome, you were beginning to understand a brutal truth: science alone wasn’t enough. You’d submitted findings, proposals, even appeals to anyone who would listen—government officials, environmental agencies, global health organizations.

But the political machine didn’t care about data. They cared about control.

The reports were becoming harder to stomach: mass cullings, entire species wiped out in an effort to “contain” the virus. It wasn’t containment—it was genocide. And no amount of logic or scientific evidence seemed capable of swaying the powerful.

That’s when you met them: Abram, Angel, Marx, and Mitch.

It was Mitch who brought you into the fold. Another vet, he’d crossed paths with you at a conference months earlier. He’d been impressed by your passion and your willingness to push beyond the boundaries of traditional medicine.

“I heard what you said about Thanatos Syndrome,” he’d told you after one particularly heated panel discussion. “I’ve got some people you should meet.”

The group wasn’t what you’d expected. They called themselves the Gaian Vanguard, a small but determined collective of scientists, activists, and disillusioned ex-government workers who believed in fighting for the planet, even if it meant breaking the law.

Abram, the youngest, was a brilliant hacker with a knack for surveillance and information gathering. At just 24, he could slip into secure government servers like a ghost, pulling classified data that no one else could touch.

Angel, 25, was their strategist and the voice of reason. She’d once been a journalist, but after uncovering too much about the political cover-ups surrounding Thanatos Syndrome, she’d been blacklisted. Now, she used her investigative skills to expose the truth and rally support for their cause.

Marx, at 30, was the muscle. A former park ranger, he’d seen firsthand the devastation the virus had caused in the wild. He was rugged, resourceful, and fiercely protective of the team, though his gruff demeanor often clashed with the others’ idealism.

And Mitch, 29, was the team’s resident medic and fellow veterinarian. He’d seen enough suffering to last a lifetime and was determined to do more than patch up the wounded. He wanted to stop the bleeding at its source.

The first meeting was tense. You weren’t sure you belonged with them. Sure, you wanted to save the animals, to stop the senseless slaughter, but rebellion? Breaking laws? That wasn’t you.

“Look,” Abram had said, leaning back in his chair with an easy confidence that belied his age. “You can keep sending reports to the people in power. Maybe one of them will read it before they sign off on the next mass culling. Or you can join us and actually do something.”

“He’s right,” Angel added, her sharp gaze piercing. “They don’t care about evidence, Y/n. They care about control. But we’ve got the truth on our side, and people are starting to listen.”

Marx, arms crossed, had just grunted. “We could use someone with your brain..”

Mitch had sigh deeply, his expression equal parts encouragement and challenge. “I can't examined every single animal that these creeps brings here to find a cure, so I need some backups. We’re not asking you to pick up a weapon. We’re asking you to use what you know—to fight for them in a way that actually matters.”

It wasn’t an easy decision. You’d spent so long believing that science was the answer, that knowledge and understanding could solve anything. But the wolf’s golden eyes flashed in your memory, and you thought about all the creatures who didn’t have the luxury of time.

“I’m in,” you’d said finally, your voice steady despite the storm of emotions churning inside you. “What’s the plan?”

Over the following weeks, you found your place within the team. Mitch became your closest ally, the two of you often working side by side on medical missions to treat infected animals or save those targeted by the government’s extermination squads. Abram taught you how to navigate encrypted systems, while Angel showed you how to craft narratives that could sway public opinion. Even Marx warmed to you eventually, though his approval came in the form of gruff nods and the occasional sarcastic remark.

-

The night of the event was suffocating—too many bodies packed into an opulent ballroom, too many self-satisfied grins from the people responsible for the mass slaughter of innocent creatures. The chandeliers overhead bathed the room in golden light, the clinking of champagne glasses and murmured conversation masking the rot beneath their polished exteriors.

You adjusted the sleek black dress Angel had insisted you wear, a necessary disguise to blend in with the elite. The fabric felt suffocating against your skin, but it was better than the alternative—arriving as you truly were, a threat to everything these people stood for.

Abram’s voice crackled in your earpiece. “We’re in position. You two ready?”

Across the room, Mitch, dressed in a sharp suit that didn’t quite hide the tension in his jaw, gave you a small nod. He was your partner for the night, both of you tasked with gathering intel from the inner circle while Angel and Marx handled… the more direct approach.

You forced a smile as a politician—Senator Clarke, one of the biggest advocates for mass animal extermination—approached, his eyes scanning you with barely concealed curiosity.

“You’re a new face,” he said, voice slick with false charm. “Who do you belong to?”

Your stomach churned, but you played the part. “is doctor, y/n,” you said smoothly, gesturing toward Mitch, who gave a tight-lipped smile. “Veterinarians working with government agencies to ensure ethical handling of the infected.”

The senator chuckled. “Ethical? There’s nothing ethical about this crisis, sweetheart. The only way to control it is to wipe out the threat entirely.”

Your fingers curled into fists, nails digging into your palm to keep your anger in check. Not yet. Stick to the plan.

Mitch placed a hand on your back, a subtle warning to stay calm. “That’s why we’re here, sir,” he said, ever the diplomat. “To discuss alternative solutions before drastic measures become the only option.”

Clarke seemed unimpressed, but before he could respond, the lights flickered. A hush spread through the ballroom.

Then the screams started.

Showtime.

Marx had breached the security room, cutting power to all but the emergency floodlights. Angel was already moving, a masked figure in the chaos, detonating small but effective smoke charges throughout the venue. The air filled with confusion and fear, high heels clacking against marble as guests scrambled for the exits.

You grabbed Clarke by the wrist, twisting it back with enough force to make him stumble. “You know what’s really unethical?” you hissed, dragging him toward the nearest service hallway. “Signing off on the deaths of creatures you don’t even try to understand.”

Mitch took out a guard who rushed toward you, expertly disarming him before knocking him unconscious. Abram’s voice filled your ear again. “Security’s mobilizing, you’ve got five minutes before the backup arrives.”

Clarke struggled, but Marx appeared from the shadows, a towering force of muscle and rage. “Move, or I break something,” he growled.

Angel was already in the security wing, extracting files from a government laptop. “We’ve got evidence of a classified biological project tied to Thanatos Syndrome,” she reported. “Looks like the virus isn’t just spreading naturally… they’ve been experimenting with it.”

Your blood ran cold. “They made it?”

Abram’s voice cut in. “It’s worse. They’ve been testing it on humans.”

You tightened your grip on Clarke, slamming him against the wall. “What the hell are you people doing?”

His lips curled into a smirk, despite the pain. “Trying to control nature before it controls us.”

You didn’t think—your fist connected with his jaw before he could say another word.

“Enough,” Angel’s voice cut through your fury. “We have what we need. Let’s go before we get slaughtered too.”

The team moved quickly, leaving behind a scene of wreckage and fear. The government would call it a terrorist attack. The media would spin the story. But none of that mattered—because you had the truth now.

And you were going to burn their entire operation to the ground.

The van rattled over the broken asphalt as you pressed ice against your bruised knuckles, staring out into the night. The city was alive with sirens, a chorus of emergency vehicles sweeping toward the wreckage your team had left behind. The operation had been messy, violent, and reckless—but it had worked.

“We need to lay low,” Angel muttered, voice tense as she reloaded her pistol before tucking it back into her jacket. “That was too loud.”

“We don’t lay low,” Marx grunted. “We hit harder.”

“Not tonight,” Mitch interjected. “We regroup first.”

That’s why you were heading toward the Stray Kids refuge.

Not many people knew about them. The world thought Stray Kids was just another resistance faction—one of the countless underground groups protesting against government tyranny. But those in the rebellion knew better.

They weren’t just a group. They were an ideal.

Made up of ex-military members, rogue scientists, hackers, and field operatives, Stray Kids had become the safe house for anyone fighting the political elite. And their leader? Han Jisung.

You knew of him before all of this. Everyone did. Once an idol, he had walked away from fame when the world started burning, disappearing into the underground where he and his members rebuilt themselves into something else. Something dangerous.“They’re expecting us,” Abram said, checking the messages on his modified tablet. “Felix said to use the back entrance.”

The van screeched to a stop in front of an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the city. The building was covered in graffiti, a mess of warnings, art, and messages of defiance. But one symbol stood out—a wolf painted in red, its eyes burning like fire.

Mitch glanced at you. “You good?”

You took a breath. You weren’t sure. The idea of meeting them—the idea that Jisung and his group might actually be able to help—felt unreal.

But you nodded. “Let’s go.”

Angel knocked twice on the rusted metal door before stepping back. Silence followed, then the sound of locks shifting. The door creaked open, and a figure stepped out—a sharp-eyed man with a scar running down his cheek. Bang Chan.

“Come inside,” he said simply, scanning each of you before stepping aside.

The warehouse was a carefully constructed safe house. Weapons were stacked in crates along the walls, computers and surveillance monitors flickering with incoming intelligence reports. People moved through the space like ghosts, their voices hushed but urgent.

Then, amidst the chaos, you saw him.

Jisung.

He was leaning against a desk, dressed in all black, his hair slightly tousled as he scanned through a set of blueprints. When he looked up and locked eyes with you, something unspoken passed between you.

Recognition?

Or just curiosity?

“You made a hell of a mess tonight,” Jisung finally said, a smirk twitching at the corner of his lips. “I like it.”

Marx crossed his arms. “We got the files. We know the government is testing Thanatos Syndrome on humans.”

Jisung’s expression darkened, any trace of amusement vanishing. “Then you’re officially in deeper shit than before.”

“We need your help,” you said, stepping forward. “The politicians want to wipe out the infected, and now we know why. They’re covering their own tracks.”

Silence stretched between you. Then, Jisung sighed, rubbing a hand down his face before glancing at his members.

“What do you think, guys?” he asked.

Felix grinned. “I say we make some noise.”

Chan smirked. “I say we burn them down.”

Jisung looked back at you, and this time, his gaze was steady, unwavering.“Welcome to Stray Kids.”

-

It didn’t take long for Stray Kids to get to work.

Chan had a wall of intel—reports, surveillance footage, smuggled documents—that mapped out the government’s extermination plans. They weren’t just targeting infected animals. They were wiping out entire populations in "preventative measures."

“Zoos, sanctuaries, national parks,” Minho said, his tone cold and sharp. “They’re hitting them all. Any infected animals are being taken for ‘research,’ and the rest… slaughtered.”

You clenched your fists, stomach twisting with rage. “And the ones they’re taking?”

Jisung tapped on a folder, sliding it across the table toward you. “We found a transport schedule. They're being sent to underground research labs—places off the grid.”

Your eyes scanned the papers. “Lab 07—south of the city.”

“Unmarked, high-security,” Hyunjin added. “No records in public databases, which means they’re doing something nasty in there.”

“This is it,” Angel murmured. “This is what we need to expose them.”

Chan nodded. “We need to infiltrate, get footage, rescue what we can.”

“We’ll need a field team,” Marx said.

“You’ll have one,” Jisung replied. His eyes flickered toward you. “y/n? you in?” You met his gaze, surprised he was asking you directly. “I’m in,” you said, voice steady.

A slow smirk curved his lips. “Good.”

The facility loomed ahead, buried deep in a valley surrounded by electrified fences and armed guards. It looked like a research center on the surface, but the underground chambers were what mattered.

Jisung, Felix, and you moved through the shadows, using the cover of darkness to approach the loading dock. Your heart pounded as you watched through night-vision goggles—two trucks were parked outside, crates filled with something alive inside.

“They’re still here,” you whispered.

Jisung nodded. “Then we move fast.”

With Abram’s remote hacking, the security systems glitched long enough for Hyunjin and Seungmin to take out the nearest guards. Once the path was clear, you and Jisung slipped through the back entrance.

The stench of chemicals and blood hit you immediately. Animal cries echoed through the halls, a mix of fear and pain. Jisung’s jaw tightened. “We have to hurry.”

You navigated through the corridors, your heart sinking at the sight of the glass enclosures. Inside, animals trembled—wolves, big cats, even birds of prey, their bodies bearing signs of experimentation. Some had glowing eyes, others twitched unnaturally.

“This isn’t just Thanatos Syndrome,” you murmured. “They’re mutating them.”

Jisung’s fingers brushed yours as he moved closer, voice low. “We’ll get them out.”

You turned to him, searching his face. “You actually care about this.”

His expression softened slightly. “Of course, I do.” Before you could say more, alarms blared.

“Time’s up,” Felix called over comms.

Jisung grabbed your hand. “Come on.”

The two of you moved fast, working in sync as you unlocked cages. The animals were weak but still able to move, some stumbling toward the exit. Felix set up small charges to cover your escape—controlled detonations to create chaos without harming anything inside.

Gunfire erupted as guards stormed in, but Marx and Chan’s team intercepted them at the entrance. Jisung pulled you behind cover, shielding you from stray bullets before returning fire. “Remind me to never underestimate you,” you said breathlessly.

He grinned. “Smart girl.” With the team working together, you managed to clear a path. The moment the last crate was loaded onto the getaway truck, Jisung turned to you. “Let’s go.” As the explosions shook the lab behind you, the two of you ran, side by side, into the night.

Back at the safe house, the rescued animals were being treated. Mitch and the others worked tirelessly, tending to their wounds, while Chan and Angel sorted through the stolen data.

Jisung found you outside, leaning against the railing of the rooftop, watching the city lights.

“Tough night,” he said, handing you a bottle of water.

You took it with a small smile. “But worth it.” He nodded. Silence stretched between you, comfortable but charged. Then, he spoke again.

“You’re different from the others.”

You turned to him. “How so?”

He shrugged. “You don’t just want to fight. You want to fix things.”

You hesitated, then admitted, “I used to think science could fix everything.”

“And now?”

“Now, I think maybe people like you can.” Jisung’s gaze locked onto yours. For a moment, the war, the rebellion, the chaos—it all faded.

Then he grinned. “Careful, y/n. That almost sounded like a compliment.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t stop the small laugh that escaped. Maybe, just maybe, you weren’t fighting this battle alone anymore.

[hellfirelobby666]

Alastor Comforts you after Vox Makes You Cry (PT.1)

I started this out of boredom in class, but It quickly got out of hand so...

Hell was not easy, it was never mean't to be. Though, it could for sure become less stressing when you worked for the right demons. But this was not your case. You worked for Vox as his secretary, arranging papers in your office most of the time. Many sinners dreamed of being in such high rank. The payment (surprisingly) was always on time, so the concern of not being able to pay rent was pratically non-existent. It was understandable why so many folks at the corporation envied your place, though did they even know what you went through?

Some days could be called "Double Hell", depending on what Vox's mood was. Heck, good thing you were in the bathroom when he and Valentino began making out in front of everyone at the meeting room. Bu it's not like anyone besides Velvette had the guts to say something.

Entering your office, the first thing your eyes landed down to were the three stacks of papers messily placed on either sides of your desk. Sitting down, your back ached in complaining for remaining in the same position all day, quietly begging a well deserved rest. You sighed, aware you still had five hours of work before you were allowed to go home and sleep.

Finishing the last stack, you took a long sip of your coffee. The lack of windows and a clock made you unsure of the time. Perhaps, one of Vox's strategies to make sure his employees kept working. When your lips ceased drinking up, you noticed the mug had become empty. Perhaps, it would be good to get some more.

To your surprise, Vox stood right in front of the door when you pushed it open, barely avoiding to hit his flat face. You opened your mouth to speak, unfortunately being too slow before the Overlord began;

"Y/N! What are you doing leaving your office so early?" His tone was angry, although some formality covered it a little.

"I-I was going to refil my mug." You stuttered, raising your hand to reveal the empty mug. "Is that so? But dear Y/N, you could've asked Peppermint to fill it for you. It sounds like you don't wanna do your job." Vox smirked. Your swear you could see the corner of his eye twitching as he did so. "Listen, Sir, Peppermint is busy with his own work-" "I don't want any more excuses, Y/N. You're a great secretary, it would be such a shame to make you Chloe's dinner..." Wait, was he talking about one of his pet sharks?" Of course he was.

"You know, she has a very special diet, prepared by the best chefs of the whole Pride Ring. Do you know what her favorite food is? The mangled bodies of little helpless sinners, especially those who do not follow their corporation rules." He growled, his voice glitching as he spoke. A shiver ran down your spine, the fear in your chest resulting in it beating twice as fast. After a few moments of agonizing silence, Vox took a deep breath, seeming to have calmed himself down a little. "Look, I have a date with Valentino in a few hours and I won't stain this suit, so GET BACK TO YOUR WORK." The sudden raise of the Overlord's voice made you jump back in surprise. "Yes, I-I will." You muttered, so quietly you could barely hear yourself. "Good. As a punishment for breaking the rules, you shall remake everything you've done today to think about what you did, Y/N." Before you could protest, Vox snapped his fingers. Turning your head back the office, all the paperwork had disappeared in thin air, along with his terrifying presence.

Returning to your desk, the silence was harsh, penetrating you blade by blade. "I-It's all gone..." An urge to start crying rapidly emerged inside your chest. No, you weren't a baby to cry after a mild inconvenience. But holding that stress all day for only to lose your work because of a simple mistake.. Snapping back to reality, you realized the desk was now full of teardrops, going down your swelled eyes and shirt. Suck it up, Y/N, it's not time for crying. That's what Vox would say if he caught your current pathetic state.

Wiping away your tears, you sighed. Time to get back to work.

[inawickedlittletown]

We've Got A Long Way To Go (BuckTommy) -9/?

Summary: A few months after the break up, Buck picks up a call that changes everything. Tommy has his own regrets, and an unexpected meeting and a change in Buck's life will bring them together. Fix-it fic.

Words: 2.1k

Read on Ao3

Chapter One - Chapter Two - Chapter Three

Chapter Four - Chapter Five - Chapter Six

Chapter Seven - Chapter Eight

-

Chapter Nine

When he got off the phone with Evan, it was a bit later than he’d expected. Tommy didn’t mind. He wished the call had gone on for longer, but Lucas had woken up and Evan had rightfully said a quick goodbye. Tommy didn’t even care that it meant he’d be getting a lot less sleep than he’d planned to before his shift. He’d missed Evan far more than he’d even allowed himself to admit. 

Right after the break up, Tommy had had every intention of grabbing anything Evan had left behind and putting it in a box to pass along to him. There actually wasn’t much stuff considering Tommy was usually the one going to Evan’s place. He never did go through the trouble. Three months in the things remained where they were or they had gotten — in the case of Evan’s clothes — mixed into Tommy’s own wardrobe. They’d never fit Tommy, but he liked the idea that Evan still existed in his life somehow even if it was just a couple of shirts and a hoodie.

It was almost like if Tommy wished for it enough, Evan would just walk right into his life again and they could pick things right back up. That was not going to happen. He hadn’t seriously believed it would before, but now there was a kid to think of. Evan had far more on his plate than to deal with Tommy. He deserved so much more. 

Getting to work the next day, he could almost push away thoughts of Evan and Lucas. It wasn’t a slow day, but it wasn’t overtly busy either. He got a few flights out to help with a stranded hiker, then a medevac for a heart attack.

“You’re kinda distracted today,” Lucy said over lunch. 

He hadn’t heard from Evan all day, not that he’d been expecting to. It just felt…well, it felt like he was being left out of the loop somehow even though he knew that Evan knew he was on shift. Evan was probably busy too. 

“Tommy?” Lucy asked. 

Tommy hadn’t planned on sharing anything with Lucy, but he had to talk to someone and she was probably his best bet. 

“Remember the kid from our last shift?” 

“Yeah,” Lucy said. 

“I, uh, I wanted to make sure he was alright. Both parents gone and everything.” 

She nodded along. “And?”

Tommy took a breath. “His name is Lucas. He’s Evan’s son.” 

Lucy’s mouth fell open and she blinked at him a few times. “Come again? Buck has a kid? A kid whose parents died. Wait, did he even know? How do you know? Kinard, this is tea. Piping hot tea and you kept it from me.” 

Tommy ducked his head and chuckled. The whole thing was kinda ridiculous.

“He’s biologically Evan’s son, but only because he was a sperm donor so his friends could have a baby. He’s taking custody of him, though.” 

“Wow,” Lucy said. “That’s insane. So I take it you went to check on the kid and ran into Buck?” 

Tommy nodded. 

“And how did that go?” 

“Surprisingly well,” Tommy said. 

The other shoe would drop eventually, though. If Tommy had any hope of even staying friends with Evan they would need to talk about it or it would fester. Talking to Howie had given him some insights into how Evan had been after the break up and it was nothing like what Tommy had expected. 

“That’s good,” Lucy said. 

“But it’s really over, you know,” Tommy said. 

“What does that even mean?” 

Tommy shrugged. “He has a kid. That’s his priority now and I’m not going to complicate everything with all my bullshit, Lucy. I can’t. And maybe it’s for the best. Maybe one day he’ll meet someone that will—”

Lucy punched his arm. “Now that is some bullshit,” she said. “I can see it all over your face, you already care for his kid. You didn’t stop caring for Buck. Yeah, a kid complicates things, but you’ve been heartbroken for months over Buck so it’s not going away. Why don’t you actually talk to him? Clear things up and go from there?” 

It would be too hard. It might change everything and the very slimmer of hope that Tommy had gotten that maybe they could become friends and stay in each other’s lives would die away and Tommy would have nothing again. Did he even have anything at all? 

“I don’t know,” Tommy said. 

“Think about it, Tommy, because you’re right, one day he might meet someone that wants to stick around that wants to settle down with him and that kid and then you won’t get a chance to say a thing.” 

-

It was late in the morning when Lucas was finally discharged. The doctor took a last look at him and signed off. The worst of his scratches were already scabbing over and the bruises looked a lot worse than they actually were. Buck was given instructions on how to care for the arm in the cast and he could tell that Lucas was even more sore than the day before. 

“It’ll help if he moves around a bit more,” the nurse at the desk told him. “Children’s tylenol will help with any pain, but only if he needs it. And you have your appointment for when he gets his cast off all set.” 

“That’s what the doctor said,” Buck said. 

“Good luck,” the nurse said. “You and your boyfriend are going to do great.” 

Buck just smiled and nodded. If only he did still have a boyfriend to help him with all of it. He headed back to the room and found Lucas sitting on the edge of the bed, teddy bear clutched in his arms. Karen, holding all of their belongings, smiled at Buck. Lucas seemed a bit wary, but then he had met a lot of people in the last twenty-four hours. He hardly even knew Buck for that matter. He must have realized, though, that they were leaving the hospital room. 

“I guess that means we’re ready to go,” Karen said. 

“Yup. Hopefully Hen got the car seat situated.” 

Lucas looked at him. “Where mama?” 

It broke Buck’s heart to hear the question. He didn’t know quite how to have this conversation. 

“Where dada?” 

“Lucas,” Buck said, “your mama and dada aren’t…they aren’t with us anymore.”

He shot a look at Karen and she seemed to realize that he really didn’t have this. Lucas looked confused and maybe it was because Buck wasn’t actually saying it. They died. They were dead. Lucas was never going to see them again. He felt Karen’s hand fall on his shoulder. She mouthed ‘you got this’ at him. 

“Lucas, they died,” Buck said. 

Did Lucas even know what that meant? Had Connor or Kameron ever talked about death with him? Was that even a concept that a kid that age could take or was this the first time he was encountering it? 

“It means that they’re gone. You were in an accident, it’s why your arm is in a cast. Your mommy and daddy died so now you’re coming home with me.”

“No mama. No dada?”

“No, honey. They were hurt bad.”

Lucas pointed at his cast. “Me?” 

“Worse,” Buck said. “They didn’t wake up. I’m so sorry.” 

Maybe it was his tone, or maybe it was that Lucas did understand, but he started to cry. It brought Buck right back to last night. 

He’d been on the phone with Tommy. He’d told him more about Connor and how meeting him in Peru had eventually led to Buck moving to LA and becoming a firefighter. He’d told him all about the house they shared with four other guys that was little more than a frat house. He and Connor had been kids back then, running around LA to clubs and bars and picking up women left and right without a care in the world. Buck had outgrown that eventually when he really took being a firefighter seriously and especially once he and Abby got together. He didn’t talk about Abby, knew it would open up a whole can of worms that might destroy the line of communication that had been opened between them. Instead, he’d told him about having Kameron stay at the loft and how much Buck had liked her. 

Lucas had started squirming a little in bed and then he started making whimpering noises and then he cried out. Buck had said a quick goodbye to Tommy, reaching for Lucas to wake him even as he dropped his phone on the bed carelessly. 

Lucas woke up at once, shaking and whimpering still. He’d curled into himself, so Buck didn’t try to touch him. Buck did realize that he was crying, though, face wet with tears that didn’t seem to want to stop. 

“Lucas, are you okay? Did you have a bad dream?” 

Lucas whimpered, but nodded. “Mama?” 

“It’s just me, Lucas. Just Evan. Can I give you a hug? Would that help?” 

Lucas took his time before he nodded, uncurling and opening his arms as if asking for Buck to pick him up. Buck did, gently situating him in his arms before he sat down on the bed, conscious of the tiny arm in the cast. 

“Do you want to tell me what was scary?” 

Lucas shook his head. 

“Was there a monster? Or a ghost?”

Lucas shook his head. Buck reached for a tissue and he helped to gently wipe Lucas’ face, careful of the scratches he’d gotten during the accident. 

“Was it a big dog? Or a bear? Or, I know, a crocodile?” 

“No,” Lucas said, already calming down. 

“Not any of that. Alright, then, but it was something scary?”

Lucas said what sounded like a ‘yes’ as he snuggled closer into Buck, his little head fitting into the crook of his shoulder. 

“Well, I know nightmares can be scary. I have them sometimes, but they’re not real. Nothing is going to get you, Lucas. Not while I’m around.” 

Lucas didn’t let him go and for a while, Buck just talked to him. He told him about being a firefighter and Lucas fell asleep on him and Buck didn’t know how to let go, so he didn’t. He held him and let him sleep, even grabbing his blanket to cover him. Buck didn’t know when he drifted off, but when he woke again it was to Lucas squirming to get out of Buck’s hold. 

Buck let him roll off of him and Lucas laid down next to him, blinking at him. 

“You okay?” 

Lucas tried to nod. 

“Do you need something? No? Did you have another bad dream?”

Lucas shook his head. He didn’t look like he’d be falling back into sleep, but then Buck figured that he’d probably spent more hours sleeping over the last day than he was used to. 

“How about we read a book?”

Lucas sat up at that. Buck chuckled. He rolled off the bed and went to the bag Maddie had brought earlier. He grabbed one of the books. Goodnight Moon. He’d read it to Jee enough times and maybe Lucas would enjoy it too. 

He brought it over. “This one alright?” 

“Yes,” Lucas said with a nod. 

Buck arranged himself so that Lucas could see the book and he began to read. Lucas did not fall asleep by the end, but he seemed content to lay on the bed and have Buck read it from the start again. 

Buck had been able to help with the bad dream — one that he hoped wasn’t related to the accident — but to actually present Lucas with the reality of his parents being dead felt far more difficult. He grabbed for a tissue and tipped Lucas’ chin up. Lucas stared back at him with eyes that were far too familiar and definitely full of tears.

Lucas reached for him and Buck picked him up, hugging him and rubbing his back as he hiccuped and cried some more. 

“It’s going to be hard and you’re going to miss them lots and that’s okay. They loved you so much, Lucas, and we can hold onto that even if they’re not around anymore. But, all they wanted was for you to be happy and hopefully I can help with that,” Buck said. 

Buck met Karen’s eyes and she smiled sadly at him. Buck set Lucas back down on the bed. He was sniffling a little still. 

“Now, it’s time we get out of here,” Buck said. 

“Teddy too?” 

“Of course.” 

He wiped Lucas’ face as best as he could one more time. 

“Do you want to walk, or can I carry you?” Buck asked. 

Lucas responded by lifting his arms, cast and all, towards Buck. Buck picked him up again, already sure he loved the way that Lucas seemed to fit into his arms. When he looked at Karen, she was wiping her eyes. She gave his arm a squeeze as they walked out. 

[tj-crochets]

Hey y'all! This question came up when I had family visiting, and I am genuinely unsure of how common this is

[todayisafridaynight]

old man yaoi comm on yaoi day... woAgh.....

Commission Info

[loumauve]

Sable pic spam bc I'm ridiculously attached to this buggy game

[moe-broey]

Idk if I'm gonna be able to articulate this on the fly like first thing in the morning, but. I think my ENTIRE body of work is This: Examining how family ties, bonds or lack thereof, the good and bad AND ugly, seep into every facet of who we are and how we come to interact with others. How sometimes, a family tie (or again, a Lack of one), will sometimes bleed into how you act and treat specific people. Will bleed into how you CONNECT with those people (or, will be the very reason you fail to do so).

HOWEVER. HOWEVER. THERE IS A DELICATE LINE. A BALANCING ACT. You CANNOT just simply attribute fanon flavored ideas of found family to such characters. That's too simple, and sometimes, is a complete disservice to the specific character you're working with. I am once again bringing up Chilchuck. YES, him being a dad Absolutely seeps into how he treats his party. But if you call him the party's dad, you're Insane. Do you know ANYTHING ABOUT THAT MAN???? He would prefer you didn't. But I digress. He strikes a fascinating balance, between having The Qualities and ESPECIALLY expressing his care for his party in a Really Specific divorced (separated.) father of three fashion, but that does Not make him a "dad friend". He's a professional. He's on business. He's going home at the end of the day, and at the end of this adventure he's thinking of setting up a shop. I wanted to keep this more vague and broad but like. The Chilchuck example REALLY DOES perfectly articulate What I'm trying to get at, here. He's the perfect encapsulation of How his family shapes him, how that bleeds into his relationships with others, vs Who he is as a person.

How we were raised, our family ties, whether you adhere to it or you've fallen FAR from the tree -- you still fell from that stupid fucking tree. It's in your blood. Literally. It gave you shape, whether you liked it or not. And sometimes some things just set off weird domino effects, that also affect us irrevocably forever.

WHICH IS. TO SAY. I have no fucking idea what I'm talking about. I'm always trying to figure that out. Found family is/can be real, you're not strictly bound by blood if you don't wanna be. BUT. The bullshit I'm constantly on, is trying to figure out how to balance all that without slotting everyone into reductive roles. I'm gay and I seek to destroy the nuclear family. Not attempt to recreate nuclear family 2.0. You CAN reconstruct What Family Is/Means from the ground up, but you have to accept that things are going to get Weird. Because you're Queer. You are fundamentally incompatible with the status quo and normalcy, the solution is NOT assimilation and palatability, the solution is to just. Get weirder. And be fluent in canon. Okay. I love you

[dimiclaudeblaigan]

Honestly though, this (what Ashe is pointing out) is exactly why I don't think GW could possibly end well. There's no "talking it over" after all the bloodshed (especially bloodshed started by them, and especially bloodshed started by them that didn't have to happen).

The way the narration leaves it "open" too at the end of GW just comes across as "it failed". It feels like... a kind of pointless story?

And I know some people might think that since Dimitri personally isn't as deeply affected by losing Matthias and so might be willing, that's still no good if his people and closest allies aren't. Rodrigue and Sylvain wouldn't be so forgiving, and I do think Dimitri would follow suit because that's his father (Rodrigue)'s closest friend and one of his own closest friends' father.

Add that to the fact that they have Sreng to deal with still (and I imagine sooner or Sylvain would figure out that Leicester had a hand in provoking Sreng to attack Faerghus) on top of losing Matthias and I imagine all the stress and aggravation wouldn't bode well for Leicester as far as Claude's thinking of things working out goes.

I just really can't see where GW goes afterward that would be "good" or works in Claude's favor at all. Maybe that was the intention and it was meant to be a route with a completely tragic ending, but apparently there are players who think it would end well and whatnot and I just can't see that happening (both from Faerghus' end and from Adrestia's end, the latter of which Claude discussed within GW itself).

If their intention was for a totally tragic ending, like yeah, I can see that... but as always the writing muddies the waters to make it sound good while something bad is happening. It keeps trying to have a positive spin on bad things as if they're just afraid to commit to a fully bad ending.

[despair-tea]

that book was pretty good, yea. glad I came back around and finished it.

the (part 1 - end) at the end is so funny - you mean after they resolved all the problems in the story, that's just the beginning? The beginning of the rest of their lives? lmao

[front-facing-pokemon]

[fragmentedblade]

Also, Ruan Mei was the one who lent the Phase Flame to Ratio, wasn't she?

[booasaur]

Something really amazing happened in France, and I think it'd help us in the US to learn about it. Forgive the long read, but I think this is genuinely great both because of what happened and how.

So as some of you might have seen, in a decision historians will debate for years (mostly to figure out just WTF he was thinking, even though he is alive right now and can be asked), the French president, Emmanuel Macron, currently in power and THREE YEARS before the scheduled election, seeing the far right rise in popularity decided to dissolve the assembly and hold snap elections.

577 seats were up for grabs. Remember that number. Since half of that is 288.5, 289 seats are needed for a majority.

The first round happened last week and boy, was it bad. The far right made HUGE gains. It won or was in first place in so many races. And Macron's party ended up third!

Overall, this is how things ended up after the first round:

Far right bloc: 33%

Left bloc: 28%

Macron's centrist party: 20%

Conservatives: 7%

The way the French system works is that if a candidate gets over 50% of the vote, they win outright, and some of the far right did manage that. But, many races went to a runoff.

Immediate projections after were that the far right bloc might win anywhere from 240 to 310 seats, a catastrophe.

A shameful swing to the far right leading to the first time they'll be in power since the 1940s? Yes, but maybe not??

This is where things get interesting.

Unusually, a lot of these runoffs are 3-way, instead of a simpler 2-way choice. And in pretty much every case, that helps the far right.

So on June 30th, the night of the first round, this is how things went down:

Immediately, the left parties put out the call: anywhere they were third, they withdrew and their voters would go over to whoever was running against the far right candidate. Their goal: form a "republican front" to block the far right. The far right cannot get 289 seats.

Macron's bloc was not so...motivated. Different people put out different instructions: in some places, if they were third, they should drop out, but only to help the center left, not far left, in other places, see how far you are, only then drop out, that kind of thing.

The conservative party simply said they won't drop out and won't give their voters instruction either way in races they're not involved in.

Late night developments:

More people in Macron's party are now beginning to realize the situation and starting to coalesce around whichever candidate can beat the far right one. Prime Minister Gabriel Attal, from Macron's party, says clearly the priority is to block the far right. BUT, some Macron spokespeople on TV say they'll form a coalition only with the center left and conservatives, splitting the left bloc if needed. Some individual Macronists still saying they won't drop out, even if there's no hope of winning.

Lol.

So, now July 1st:

Only half so far. In one race, where the sister of Marine Le Pen (the far right leader and the face of their movement) was leading, the third place Macronist refused to bow out.

Excellent quote from another Macronist:

Perhaps realizing the same thing, that Macronist in the race against the Le Pen sister now drops out.

In some places, third place Macronists are dropping out DESPITE Macron bewilderingly telling them NOT to?

Halfway through the day:

Of the 311 3-way or 4-way runoffs, the number is down to 135 because of these candidates dropping out: 121 Left, 56 Macronists, 1 conservative.

Oh, there was this, in case people had any doubts about how terrible the far right are:

And to show the selflessness of the left:

July 2:

The deadline to decide if they want to stay in a runoff is today.

A dozen new third place Macronists who said they'd stay in have now dropped out. One got a call from both the PM Attal AND Macron to drop out, signalling the dawning understanding of the importance of this moment.

Even some conservative party members are now backing the left candidate who faces the far right.

A Macronist who had 30.55% of the vote in the first round and came in third to the far right's 33.11% and left's 32.73% and who would have been tempted to stay has dropped out.

The deadline to stay in or not has now passed.

Look at these far right shenanigans!

Macron still being a freaking loser:

July 3rd:

In the end, of the 311 3- or 4-way run offs, only 91 left. Some polls come out that have the far right getting between 190 to 220 seats.

July 4th:

New polls say the balance of the voting itself isn't transferring between the left and center and predictions have risen for the far right, now predicted to get between 210 and 250 seats.

July 5th:

New polls again, left voters now predicted to do better transferring vote to the centrists, decreasing the far right projections again.

However, scandalous reporting emerges: while Attal was trying to fend off the far right, Macron was not only NOT taking the far right seriously, he was undermining efforts to defeat them. His team shrugged off the first round results and celebrated a BIRTHDAY as the results were still coming in?

July 6th:

A few runoffs happened yesterday, nothing much unexpected, some left and center wins.

July 7th:

The day of reckoning. At this point, the expectations are that the far right won't come close to that 289 number but could still easily have the most seats.

GUYS.

It's over and the left are in the lead!

A LOT of cases where a leftist or centrist was 2nd in the first round and now won.

Amazing:

SO many lessons to take from this.

First, you have to vote! You have to. You can't do anything without voting. The freaking French, who'll protest for anything, are showing up to vote. If you're trying to achieve any kind of result and it's not going to happen by January 2025, you have to vote now.

But just as importantly, the left and center (and even conservative) parties made very key decisions. They were all lucky that Attal, who Macron chose, saw the big picture, bigger than indeed Macron could. A stupid selfish centrist leader could have still ruined everything if it were up to him.

TL;DR: After a disastrous first round in the national French elections where the far right was on the cusp of taking power, the left and center formed a strong coalition and through the power of voting and unity, overcame the far right AND their selfish centrist president to win.