#except the mental breakdown part

[yoosung-ah]

this you?

[brionysea]

oh no! it's the consequences of your actions!

[navybrat817]

Hold You Tight: Part 3

Pairing: Club Owner!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Fic Summary: The owner of The 107th wants you to be his girl whether you like it or not.

Part 2 | Series Masterlist | Part 4

Chapter Summary: The date is just beginning, but you're not sure if you can keep it together.

Chapter Word Count: Over 3.8k

Chapter Warnings: DARK AU, stalking, coercion, threats (not against reader), creepy and unhinged behavior, possessiveness, manipulation, mental and emotional whiplash, reader is trying to stay calm, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?), more warnings to come.

A/N: More Hold You Tight! Hope you lovelies enjoy and thank you again for the feedback so far! Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo. ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby , but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You took a deep breath and another, but it didn’t stop your heart from picking up in your chest. It was a feat that your legs didn’t give out. Your throat felt rough and raw, except you hadn’t screamed. You hadn’t made a sound. Not until Bucky moved toward you, pulling a whimper from you.

“I thought it would be a nice surprise,” he said, cupping your face with a smile. You wanted to believe there was a warmth behind it or that he had a voice in his head telling him that this wasn’t right. That none of this was right. “Don’t you like them?”

“The flowers. The guy who bought them…” you swallowed, wondering exactly who he was and how he was associated with Bucky. Did Bucky know him well or was he a stranger? Did he bribe him into going into his shop?

“Oh, he’s fine,” Bucky assured you, which didn’t make you feel any better. “Loved the tulips you helped pick out for him. I know his girl will be very happy to get them, too.”

The citrus and woodsy combination of Bucky’s cologne filled your nostrils as you took another deep breath. You expected to stumble back when he suddenly crouched down, but you didn’t budge an inch. Once again, you were frozen in fear. Why couldn’t you move? You told yourself he wouldn’t hurt you. Why bother dragging you all the way to his place for that when he could’ve done so in your home?

Or, apparently, your place of work.

“Why don’t we have some of that wine after I show you around?” He asked, retrieving the clutch you dropped.

“Do you really expect me to just sit and have a drink with you?”

“Not just a drink,” he said, slowly standing and reminding you just how large he was. “Dinner. Dessert.”

“Where’s the bathroom?” You asked.

He nodded over your shoulders. “There’s one right behind you.”

You turned and went into the bathroom, careful not to lock the door behind you as much as you wanted to. He may have broken down the door if you tried. You gripped the sink as you struggled to take your next breath, blood rushing in your ears as you looked at your reflection. A voice in the back of your mind whispered to stay calm when tears threatened to spill over for the second time that evening.

Could you though? Could you play along and get through this night without having some sort of breakdown? You had to try.

Your attention was pulled away by the soft knock on the door. “Is everything okay?”

“Would you care if I wasn't?” You asked before you could stop yourself.

The door opened a heartbeat later, but you didn't dare meet his gaze in the mirror as he approached. Not even as he pressed himself against your back, your body trapped between his and the sink. It was suffocating. He brought a hand up to lift your chin, forcing your eyes to lock with his. The light above the mirror put a spotlight on the intensity of his gaze as his lips brushed your ear.

“I care more than you think,” he whispered, turning you to face him. His fingers traced the column of your neck before he let go. “In time, I know you’ll see that.”

You fought the urge to laugh as he led you back into the entryway. If he cared, he would’ve gone about this whole thing differently. You focused your attention instead on the penthouse, taking in more of the decor as he showed you around. As immaculate as the place looked, it lacked a personal touch. Where were the photos? Trinkets?

“What do you think?”

“It’s a beautiful place,” you answered. And it was beautiful, but it didn't feel like a home or lived in like your place.

“A bit spacious for just me,” he said, glancing at you. Was it his roundabout way of stating again how he expected you to move in?

“Yeah, it’s a lot for one person, but it’s still nice.”

He nodded in agreement. “The couch is comfortable if you ever want to take a nap,” he said, an almost knowing look in his eyes as you stopped at the living room. Jesus, did he know you slept on your couch last night? “Though I’d prefer you sleep in our bed.”

“Our” bed. Not subtle at all. “I know you said this would be my place one day, too, but maybe we should get well past the first date before we talk about sharing a bed,” you said, sarcastically adding, “I hog the blankets, so I hope you're prepared for that.”

He chuckled and you wished you didn't like the pleasant sound. “You can have as many blankets as you want. And I had every intention of showing you the master bedroom tonight, but I think I’ll wait.”

“Really?” You asked, hoping you didn't sound too eager to avoid seeing it. Was there a catch?

“Really,” he said, pulling you close by the hips. Through his clothes, you felt how firm he was. There was strength there you couldn't match. “I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anyone else. And when I take you to bed, I’m going to ruin you. That's a promise.”

A shuddering breath left your lungs as he leaned in, his lips skimming yours.

“But I’m not the monster you think I am, which is why I’m going to wait,” he whispered.

It was a relief that Bucky wasn't going to take you to bed. Not tonight, at least. At the same time, what exactly was he waiting for? He made it clear that he wanted you and wasn't going to let go. What game was he playing?

Thinking about it was enough to drive you mad.

“And you won't hurt me?” You questioned. You had to hear him say it.

“I’d never hurt you,” he promised, pulling away at the two knocks on the front door.

He wouldn't hurt you, but what about other people?

“Chef’s here, boss,” the guard’s voice rang out.

“Perfect timing,” Bucky smiled.

He kept a hand on you as he guided you to the kitchen, the guard and who you assumed to be the chef entering seconds later. “Mr. Barnes, so good to see you.”

“You as well,” Bucky replied, his demeanor professional and somewhat colder.

Your eyes went back to the guard as Bucky chatted with the chef. He seemed to avoid your gaze, keeping his eye instead on the two men speaking. Did he know the circumstances that brought you here? Would he care if he did?

“You’re sure this is what you’d like, Mr. Barnes? This is a relatively simple meal,” the chef scoffed, making a show of gesturing to the ingredients. It dawned on you as you looked at them that he was going to prepare one of your favorite meals. Your stomach dropped, but you kept quiet. Of course, Bucky knew.

And of course, it wasn't sophisticated.

Bucky’s jaw twitched as if he sensed your embarrassment. The guard didn't look impressed by the chef’s comment either. “It’s her favorite. Are you insulting my girl’s taste?” he spoke, making you shiver from the ice in his tone.

“No, Mr. Barnes. Of course not! I meant no disrespect.” The chef shook his head, meeting your gaze with a shaky smile. “To be simple is to be great.”

“That’s right. Simplicity is also to be respected,” Bucky said, pointing a gloved finger at him. “And with your reputation, it better be the best meal she has ever had. I’d hate to see what happens if she doesn’t like it.”

“It’s fine,” you whispered. It was better to focus on easing the situation instead of yet another reminder that he knew another intimate detail about you. That and you felt bad as the man behind the counter began to sweat. “I’m sure the meal will be delicious. Thank you for taking the time to come here and prepare it.”

The tension dissipated as Bucky softly smiled at you, a crisis averted for the time being. “We’re going to enjoy our wine on the balcony while he prepares our meal,” he told the guard. “Keep an eye on him.”

“Will do.”

Bucky took you away from the kitchen before the chef could speak another word to you. Fresh air might help you breathe easier. He opened the glass door, the night breeze making you shiver as you stepped outside. The view of the city stretched on and the moon and stars lit up the sky. It was breathtaking.

You jumped when Bucky put his jacket around your shoulders. The romantic gesture felt like a claim. “I hope his comment didn't upset you. If it did-”

“It’s fine. Really,” you assured him, glancing at the two-seater table as he pulled out a chair for you. Two glasses were set out as well, along with what you knew to be an expensive bottle of wine. “This is gorgeous.”

“It is,” he agreed, your cheeks flaming when you saw him looking at you instead of the view.

“Do you spend a lot of time out here?” You asked.

He popped the cork on the bottle and poured each of you a small amount. You almost thanked him for that. You had to keep your wits about you.

“Not as much as I’d like to,” he said, nodding to a small sofa in the corner as he took a seat. “But I do like to read out here.”

“You read in your free time?” You asked, biting back a moan when you sipped the wine.

His eyes lit up and just as quickly darkened when you licked your lips. “I do. Reading has always been a hobby of mine. I even have first editions of some of my favorite books.”

“That’s really nice,” you smiled. For a moment it felt like the two of you were having a normal conversation.

That good feeling went away when he took out a velvet box.

“Can’t forget about the surprise,” he smiled before he handed it over. It looked too long to be a ring box, thankfully, but it wouldn't have surprised you if there was an engagement ring inside. Which was likely why your hand shook as you opened it.

The diamond pendant was stunning enough to make you gasp. Five stones each a different shape, they sparkled under the moonlight. The kind of necklace you could only dream of having.

“Bucky, I’m sorry.” You shut the box and slid it back across the table toward him. “I can’t accept this.”

His gaze flickered to the box before he looked at you again. You wanted to believe he looked concerned, but he hadn’t exactly taken any of your feelings into consideration so far. “Why not? We can pick out another together if you’d rather have something else.”

“I can’t accept it because it’s too much,” you said. Accepting the gift would make the situation more real.

He chuckled after a moment. “No, it isn't. Nothing would ever be too much for me to give to you.”

You reached across to tap the top of the box. “Bucky, this is the kind of gift that you give to your wife or fiancé or girlfriend. Hell, maybe a mistress or a sugar baby. I’m none of those things.” Something flickered in his gaze and that should’ve been your warning to stop, but you kept going anyway. “I’m not your girl.”

He took your hand before you could pull it away, his jaw clenched. “You’re right about one thing. You’re not my mistress or a sugar baby,” he agreed. “You could never be those things because you are the only one I see.”

But why? It didn’t make any sense to you. “But-”

“Girlfriend, fiancé, wife,” he ticked off with the fingers of his free hand. “We'll get to all those phases of our relationship, so you might as well accept this gift now or you'll be accepting much more than this later.”

You swallowed, but didn’t attempt to pull away. His grip didn’t hurt and you didn’t know exactly what he was implying, but you didn’t want to find out tonight. Not when he promised he wouldn’t drag you off to his room. “Thank you for the wonderful gift.”

He smiled and took the box as he stood. You didn't protest as he moved to put the necklace around your neck nor did you flinch when his fingers moved along on your skin. When he sat back down, he sighed and lovingly looked you over. “It's beautiful. Just like I knew it would be on you."

You touched it after a moment, the feel of his fingertips still lingering. “I didn't expect something so nice for a first date.”

“This is only the beginning.” He tilted his head and let his eyes watch you trace the delicate gems. “You deserve so much more.”

“Is this some elaborate joke?” You scoffed a bit. He sounded so sure of himself, that he believed you deserved the world. But why? “You do realize that I'm just a florist. And I don't say that to belittle my career because I love what I do, but I'm nothing special.”

Sadness took over his eyes. “Why would you say that?”

You rolled your bottom lip between your teeth. This wasn’t a conversation you wanted to have with the stranger who broke into your home. You didn’t want to have any sort of conversation tonight. “Because I don't own the flower shop I work at. I'm not rich. Hell, I lived with a roommate until last year just to save up and afford my own place. You should know since you researched me,” you said without a trace of bitterness. “I’m not a party girl. I don't turn heads wherever I go. I just want to work with my flowers, go home, and live a simple little life.”

His eyes followed the motion of you biting your lip again before he shook his head. “You think being rich and owning a business are the things it takes to make someone special?”

“No, I don't think that.”

“Then what does?”

You looked around the balcony with a sigh before meeting his gaze again. “Who a person is makes them special.”

“Yet everything you stated has nothing to do with who you are. So I’ll ask again, why would you say you're nothing special?”

You didn't know how to respond. You thought he would’ve just dropped the conversation, so you looked into your lap with a shake of your head. If you were special, wouldn’t you have found someone by now the way Addision and your other friends had? You didn’t want to pour out your insecurities, even if he seemed to hold an invisible knife and was ready to cut them open. “I don't know. I just know I’m not.”

He hummed a little. “So, would someone who is nothing special make homemade meals for her neighbor because she recently had a baby and probably wouldn't have time to cook for herself?”

Your head snapped up so fast you nearly hurt yourself. “How-”

“And not only are you in Addison's wedding party, you offered to have her flowers done so she could have more money for her honeymoon. You're telling me that being caring and thoughtful doesn’t make a person special?”

Goosebumps raised on your skin, realizing just how thorough he was in his research of you. “How do you know all of that about me?” Tears sprang to your eyes and you blinked them back. “I didn't tell anyone about my neighbor or the flowers.”

He cracked a small smile. “That's one of the things that makes you special. You don't do those things expecting anything in return and you sure as hell don't do it to brag. You do them because you care.” He took a second to lean back in his seat, his eyes still on you. “When I see something I want, I give it my all. And I'm not afraid to use my resources. I told you, I like to be thorough.”

You giggled. A hysterical sort of giggle. One that scared you because you had never laughed like that. “I don't know if I can do this,” you said, pinching the bridge of your nose. “I shouldn't be here. I should be getting a restraining order.”

Bucky didn't look offended in the slightest. “You could try. Do you think it’ll stop me?”

What little resolve you had left snapped. “Oh, my god. Do you hear yourself? I mean, really hear yourself?!” You snapped, tempted to throw the remainder of your wine on him when he didn’t react. “You know what a first date is, right? It’s two people trying to get to know each other and to see if there’s a mutual connection. You didn’t give me a chance to form a connection with you because you decided it for me after you stalked me.”

His brows pinched like you hurt his feelings. “Doll-”

“You know ‘everything’ about me, but what do I know about you, huh?” You continued, your anxiety bubbling over. “I know that you own a club and that you break into homes and scare the shit out of people. Oh, and that you read. And you apparently have the world at your fingertips since you can send people into my place of work and find out details about me that most aren’t privy to. You could probably use those resources of yours for good or to help others, but you used them to dig into my life when I didn't ask you to!”

“Some people do research before a first date,” he pointed out, not raising his voice.

“Not a full background check! I’m not an employee of yours and I’m not a toy for you to play with!” You huffed as you sat back, suddenly exhausted. How was he unphased? “You really think you have a say in my future? Are you that much of a control freak that you think you can control me?”

The silence stretched on as Bucky considered you and your body trembled as he idly sipped his wine. You weren’t the type to snap and you suddenly felt the urge to apologize for your outburst, which wasn’t fair. He put you in this situation, so why did you want to make it better?

Because you didn’t know what he would do.

“I’m not trying to control you,” he stated, handing you a handkerchief.

“It feels like you are and that isn’t fair,” you said, dabbing at your eyes. Life wasn’t exactly fair though, was it? “And for the record, the only reason I’m not tossing this wine on you is because it’s delicious and it would be a waste.”

His nose scrunched as he laughed. “I wish you could’ve met my mom. She would’ve loved you,” he said so softly you almost missed it, the change in topic jarring to say the least. What happened to her? “I’ve tried traditional dating. It doesn’t and hasn’t worked for me so far. The last woman I dated? She tried to rob me, if you can believe that.”

You sighed, still a bit worn out from your rant. “I can,” you said. There were greedy people in the world and he seemed to have more than enough to provide others with a comfortable life. It wasn’t right that someone tried to take what he earned.

It also wasn’t right what he was doing to you.

“In my line of work, everyone wants something from me. Money, power, favors. It’s hard to trust people,” he said, his gaze surprisingly soft as he took your hand again. “But not you.”

“Because that’s not the kind of person I am,” you guessed.

You were in many ways the opposite of him. While you weren’t poor, you certainly weren’t rich or powerful and didn’t want to use people for your gain. Perhaps that was why he wanted you so badly. You were someone who didn’t want anything from him. Someone like you was easy for him to control since you didn’t run in that kind of circle, even if he said he wasn’t trying to.

Maybe you should have put up a fight instead of making yourself an easy target.

Wait, why were you blaming yourself?

“I know it isn’t,” he said, giving your hand a squeeze. “So, maybe I’m a control freak and maybe my approach is a bit extreme, but I don't want to control you. I like who you are, doll. You’re loyal and caring and real. The kind of person I want and need.”

You took a sip of wine so you didn't have to respond. He needed you, so he said, but did you need him? And why did his praise warm your insides? You didn't want it to feel nice.

“And maybe I like that you aren’t the kind of person who has a hidden agenda and that you aren’t a party girl. Even you snapping at me. I love that fire. I want more of it. Burn me with it if you want,” he continued, sweeping his gaze over you once again. “Fuck, I can’t take my eyes off you. And I can't stop thinking about you.”

The look in his eyes put you on edge. “But we-”

“You’re good for me and you may not believe I’m good for you, but I am. We’re right for each other,” he said. The fierce determination in his gaze almost had you believing it. “And aren’t you tired of being lonely? I know I am.”

Loneliness could eat away at a person. Drive them to do desperate things. It didn't excuse his actions.

“Lonely or not, you can't force us to be together,” you said.

“I’m not forcing us to be together. You chose to be here tonight.”

“You know why I came here,” you argued. He had to know you did this because of his threat. “And I’ll behave or do whatever I need to do for the rest of the night, but I can't promise anything beyond that.”

Instead of anger like you expected, he smiled. Like a wolf flashing his teeth before sinking into its prey. “That’s okay because I have a promise for you,” he began, the flame dancing in his eyes. “You’ll be out of your apartment before the end of the month.”

The balcony door opening covered up the wheeze you let out, but didn't hide the despair written all over your face. He couldn't be serious. “Dinner’s ready,” the guard stated.

Bucky didn't spare him a glance as he stood and kept your hand in his, your appetite gone as his smile widened. “C’mon, doll. Better not let it get cold.”

Ooh. Will he really have you out of your place that soon? How awkward will that meal be? And who do we think this guard is? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[ckret2]

Chapter 89 of human Bill Cipher and his uneasy ceasefire with the Mystery Shack: Bill and Ford go to the museum to plant false clues that will fool Agent Powers into thinking Never mind all that, we're getting gay y'all

A turning point has been reached and none of them know it yet.

Also: Ford learns more about the Blind Eye than he's comfortable with, and Bill and Mabel have as much of a heart-to-heart as they can manage at like four in the morning.

####

The plan was simple. Break into the museum; watch a couple of videos, so that Ford could get a sense for how they sounded; record one of their own; strategically place it amongst the rest, along with the map that Mabel had made.

There was only one complication: the videos they'd be watching were the memories stolen by the Society of the Blind Eye.

Ford had been dying to know about them for thirty years. Back in the 80s, for a few days, the mysterious red-robed stalkers had probably done more to terrify Ford out of his sleep-deprived, paranoid mind than even Bill had. He'd realized they were the work of Fiddleford and his memory gun, but all the way up until last summer he'd never been sure whether they were Fiddleford's way of trying to forget Bill, or if Bill had infiltrated his mind and influenced him to ravage the town's minds.

Now? Ford still didn't know much more about them—just their founder, and the fact that they'd wielded Fiddleford's memory gun. He doubted even Fiddleford recalled what had inspired him to escalate from erasing his own trauma to forming a cult that literally brainwashed people; but, Ford had never asked.

There were things Ford and Fiddleford had tacitly agreed never to bring up. They didn't talk about the things they'd said to each other after the portal test. They didn't talk about the "demon" Ford had let haunt the halls the entire time Fiddleford had stayed in his house—at least, they didn't talk about the demon until he came back a few weeks ago. They didn't talk about their respective rapid mental breakdowns. They certainly didn't talk about Fiddleford's cult.

Under any other circumstances, Ford would have suspected Bill of deliberately choosing a plan that forced Ford to see Fiddleford's worst side again—except that Bill was so obviously miffed that Ford had been the only one qualified for this role. All the same, it felt like a betrayal to sneak behind Fiddleford's back and dig through his thirty-year-old dirty laundry. To go through all the things Fiddleford didn't want Ford to know and might not even remember himself.

He weighed up his desire to find out more about the cult against his loyalty to Fiddleford. As usual, Ford's curiosity won out over everything else. "Why are we using the Blind Eye?" Ford asked. "Were they one of your cults?"

Bill laughed shortly. It wasn't loud, but in the dark, silent car, it sounded like hammers on fine china. "You think the All-Seeing Eye ran the Blind Eye? Puh-leez. Your paranoia's slipped off its ball gag, Stanford." He pantomimed a pair of scissors with his hand. "If I wanted to erase anyone's memories, I'd snip 'em myself."

Ford didn't know whether or not that was a relief. Was it better to know Fiddleford had never been one of Bill's puppets, or would it have been better if Fiddleford hadn't been responsible for the Blind Eye? "Technically, you haven't said they weren't one of your—"

"No," Bill snapped. "They weren't."

Ford waited for Bill to elaborate—maybe explain why the Blind Eye had to be part of the plan? Boast about the cults he did have in the area? Insult Fiddleford's choice of mind-meddling techniques? But Bill just resumed the post he'd maintained since getting in the car: leaning against the passenger door as if trying to get as far away from Ford as possible, staring out the window at the passing night, and saying nothing. Bill had been a foul mood since leaving the house, and he was expressing it by ignoring Ford. It irked him, and he didn't know why he cared.

"All right," Ford said tiredly, "What in the world did I do to offend you today."

Bill didn't deign to reply.

"Tell me it's not because I used dollar coins."

"It's nothing you need to worry about," Bill said coldly. "Mabel just said I'm not allowed to be nice to you, that's all."

"Whatever she said, I'm sure it wasn't that," Ford said. "So you're giving me the silent treatment because you're mad at Mabel?"

"I'm not mad at Mabel and I'm not giving you the silent treatment. I don't have anything worth saying to you."

"You don't expect me to believe that. You could talk for a million years straight without pause."

"None of which you'd appreciate. Talking to you isn't worth the water vapor I'd exhale in the process."

"That's never stopped you before—"

"There's no winning," Bill snapped. "When I talk to you, you complain. When I don't, you complain. Either make up your mind or stop griping at me for existing!"

Ford shut his mouth. Yeah. All right. Fair enough.

He could only tolerate the silence for a few more seconds. "Here I thought you were the one who wanted to be friends again."

That was what made Bill explode. "Oh, that's what everyone thinks, isn't it! That I'm crawling on my hands and kneesbegging you to give me the time of day! Newsflash, Stanford: I'm over you. Ya blew it."

"Really." He would have assumed it was just another of Bill's attempts at manipulation—if Bill hadn't spent the last few days shooting down all of Ford's attempts to ask him basic questions. Now... it felt uncomfortably true.

 So, that was it? At last, Bill had given up on Ford? He should have been relieved. Instead, a part of him was disappointed.

He hadn't realized just how satisfying it was to repeatedly shoot Bill down. Satisfying to know that Bill still thought he was worth the pursuit. Ford had been so proud of himself for keeping Bill at arm's length—but did he actually want Bill any farther away than that? (After all this time, was he still just chasing Bill's approval?)

"What finally convinced you I'll never be one of your loyal little followers again?" Ford asked. "Was it the mac and cheese?"

"It didn't help," Bill said. "But no. It has a little bit more to do with the fact that you still want me dead."

Ford hit the breaks a little too soon at a stop sign so he could stare at Bill. "What in the world are you talking about? As Irecall, the last time we discussed the topic, I'd just spared your life!"

"Exactly!" Bill laughed bitterly. "Spared me because something I did gave you—" In the faint indirect glow of the streetlights, Ford could see Bill make sarcastic finger quotes, "'hope."

"Wh—That's it?! You're mad at me because I had the gall to have a little hope for you?!"

"Hope for me to what, Stanford Pines?" Bill had put on a sickeningly sweet sing-song voice, thick with venomous sarcasm. "Come on! We both know what you're hoping for, but I wanna hear you say it out loud!"

What? Ford's eyebrows scrunched up in confusion. "Hope for you to change for the better?" Had Bill assumed he meant something else?

"Exactly," Bill hissed. "What you have is hope against me. You didn't spare me—you spared an imaginary person you invented! You think I'm worth letting live because I might turn into someone else you like more—well what does that say about me?"

The quiet click of a seat belt buckle was the only warning Ford got before Bill was in his face, a finger jabbing in his chest, a sharp knee digging into his thigh. "That I'm not worth it! You're just keeping me around as a human sacrifice to the Bill Cipher you wish existed! You still wanna watch me die, you just want it without the violence! You're trying to kill me in your mind right now!"

"Bill, get off—" Ford's foot slipped off the brake pedal.

The car only jerked forward a few inches before Bill shoved the gear stick into park, all without breaking eye contact. He went on, relentless: "I'm supposed to be so grateful that I'll let you just—erase everything that makes me me and magically reincarnate as some good person—"

"You're already a good person!" Ford snarled.

It took him a moment to register that Bill was no longer trying to out-shout him. He took the opportunity to shove Bill back to his own side of the car; and then silence fell over them.

Ford stared at the seat between them. He felt like, if he looked up, Bill's eyes would be glowing in the dark. "That—didn't come out the way I meant it."

"Oh, phew, here I was trying to remember when I'd switched your definitions for 'good' and 'depraved.'"

"You are depraved. But—there's—" it was so much harder to say a second time, "—a good person in you somewhere."

"Well sure, with all the souls I've swallowed, one or two of them were bound to be—"

"Can it, I'm being serious!" Ford sucked in a sharp shaky breath. "I've seen that side of you! You've saved little girls from certain death! You saved Dipper and me! You've driven more than one hostile supernatural entity out of the house. You've said the household's under your protection. You taught Mabel and her friends to summon demons—"

"—hold on, that's a point for me?"

"It was a very informative lesson with a large emphasis on proper warding techniques," Ford said angrily. "And it wasn't the only time! You've also taught Mabel about—about alien genetics and non-Euclidean geometry and who knows what else! And maybe this is all just another one of your schemes, maybe you've made a fool of me yet again for convincing me you'd ever do anything without an ulterior motive, but—" His voice caught in his throat. He cleared it roughly. "You were—so patient with her. You were kind." The way he'd seemed kind when he'd taught Ford. "I... want to believe it's more than just a trick."

And that was the problem, wasn't it. He wanted to. Maybe Bill wasn't even suckering Ford this time; maybe Ford had suckered himself.

Bill finally muttered, "Of course I had an ulterior motive."

Ford's heart and shoulders sank. "Of course you did," he said, hollow. "What was it."

"The kid thought I thought she's stupid. When you compare her against every brat in her school that shares her last name and her birthday and her mitochondria, her GPA's at the rock bottom of the list, and that's what she's used to snotty know-it-alls judging her by—and I just so happen to know it all." Bill shrugged expansively. (That shrug he did with his hands instead of his shoulders.) "And she doesn't trust anything I say that she doesn't already believe—so if I want to convince her I know she's got plenty of neurons sloshing around under her cranium, hey, what about tricking her into cramming a college semester's worth of interdimensional science and extraterrestrial history into one afternoon!"

Ford stared at him, waiting for the rest of it. "That was your—? What kind of ulterior motive is that, that's not selfish."

"What are you talking about? Of course it is," Bill said. "Do you think I did all that for her sake? No! I did it for mine! I only hang out with her for that thousand-watt personality she's got, I'm not about to put up with her moping around like a thirty-watt busted bulb. Plus it tricked her into listening to everything I said for the rest of the day!"

"You felt bad because she felt bad," Ford said, "so you spent the rest of your day making her feel better."

"Yes," Bill sighed, "now you're getting i—" He stopped. He squinted at Ford. "You think this is some kind of empathy thing?" He sounded mildly disgusted by the suggestion.

Ford laughed, and he wasn't quite sure if it was in amazement, hysteria, or fury. "Listen to yourself! There's a good person in you—a wonderful person—and it's buried underneath the worst person I will ever have the displeasure of meeting—but it's in you." The words came out like a damning accusation. He shoved his hand deep in a coat pocket, felt around for a piece of folded paper—he didn't even need to look at it to know what it was; he'd carried it in his pockets for a week, felt it so many times that he could recognize its creases by touch alone—and he flung it into Bill's lap.

He could hear Bill unfolding the paper. Ford wasn't able to see it in the dark, but he was sure Bill could: 

A drawing of Bill, in his natural triangular form, floating in the sky with blue flames in his upraised hands, over Mabel's handwriting: "I BELIEVE IN YOU. YOU CAN CHANGE!"

"I don't believe you've changed one bit since the start of summer," Ford said. "And that means, this has always been a part of you! Just as much as the lying and the backstabbing! Any time you want, you could choose to be the muse you've always pretended to be! You already are that muse! So why don't you do it? When you could be like that every single day of your life—why are you like this?"

He heard a quick, quiet inhale from Bill. But he didn't reply.

Ford didn't even know whether he'd meant the question to be rhetorical. Part of him desperately wanted an answer.

"That's why I let you live," he said. "You're a piece of scum, Cipher. But, the chance that you might... might change, yes, but not into somebody new, just another version of who you already are... I think that—makes it worth it."

The dark almost swallowed Bill's voice: "Worth risking the universe for?"

Ford suddenly felt very vulnerable.

Bill's voice was oddly flat. Too self-controlled. "You know, coming from a guy that hates my guts, that means more to me than I can say."

"Just—shut up." Why had he ever imagined anything he said might get through to Bill.

They'd been parked at the stop sign for several minutes. Ford put the car in drive and pulled out. He heard Bill click his seat belt in place and shift to lean against the door again; and then an awkward silence fell over the car once more.

Why wasn't Bill saying anything? Privately gloating? Thinking about how he could turn this to his advantage? Congratulating himself on successfully using Mabel as a pawn to fool Ford into thinking he had a secret charitable side?

The silence was too much for Ford to bear.

Just as he was about to turn on the radio, Bill's hand shot out and snapped it on first.

A 90's R&B singer cooed, "Ohh baby, I'll give you one last try-iy-iy. Just promise, you won't break my hear-ar-art—"

Bill snapped off the radio.

They rode the rest of the way to the museum in silence.

####

Ford quietly sighed as they pulled up to the museum. Under any other circumstances, going to the museum, investigating a mind-wiping secret society, and roleplaying as a spy movie villain sounded like a great way to spend a night. He wantedto be able to enjoy it.

"Look, Bill. Neither of us wants to be here with each other, but we don't have to make each other miserable. Can we at least act..." He groped for a word.

"Friendly?"

Ford was sure he detected a hint of sarcasm. "I was thinking of something more like 'civil.'"

"Oh, of course! Let's not get unreasonable."

"Can you manage civility."

"Can you?"

"I can if you can."

"Ha! I could out-civil you in my sleep."

"Then fine."

"Fine."

"Fine." Off to a terrific start.

Ford got out and circled the car to open Bill's side.

As Bill got out, carrying the camcorder, he said, "You know, it was nice running around with that agent today! He held doors for me like he respected me. Instead of like a guard escorting a convict out of the prison bus."

Ford shut the door behind Bill. "You are a prisoner."

"Obviously!" He held up a wrist, showing off the bracelet chaining them together. "But do you think I like feeling like one?"

I don't care what you like, Ford nearly said—by reflex more than anything—then stopped himself. He wasn't about to be the first one not to be civil.

"You know, it would be really nice if I could open doors on my own—then I wouldn't have anything at all to complain about..."

"I won't compromise on the doors, but I'm willing to drop the bracelets."

That got Bill to look at him. "What?"

"You've had an opportunity to drown me, you escaped us for the weekend, and you spent an entire day seducing a government agent who would probably be thrilled to arrest everyone in the Mystery Shack if you told them you'd been kidnapped," Ford said. "If you were planning to run off, it wouldn't be here and now."

Bill's face was unreadable. But he slid off his bracelet and held it out dangling from one finger. Something in the atmosphere imperceptibly lightened as Ford took it.

Bill said, "Or maybe my grand plan is to go pound on his door at three in the morning, claim I just escaped a kidnapping, and have him catch the lot of you in the middle of drugging his agents and breaking into the police department."

"That would be just like you." Ford eyed the museum's double glass doors critically, then fished around in his pocket for his wallet. "Clever of you to admit your dastardly plan after I uncuff you."

"See, this is what makes me a real mastermind," Bill said. "I don't gloat about my brilliant plans until after it's too late for my enemies to stop 'em."

"Right, right." Ford pulled his miniature lockpicking kit from his wallet, selected a long stick with a hook on the end, and slid it into the gap between the two doors "Like when you only gloated about using me after I'd built your portal."

"Ye—"

"But before I let you through it."

Bill shot Ford an exasperated look. Ford smirked.  Bill rolled his eye. "And it was too late for you to stop me, because in the end, I got through! Checkmate."

Ford muttered, "You couldn't checkmate me if you tried."

Bill jabbed his arm with a finger. "Hey! Hey! Play me when I'm running on more than thirty minutes of nightmares and forty calories of mystery meat puree, we'll see who can checkmate who."

Ford nearly said he'd take him up that, before remembering who he was talking to. "That didn't feel like a very civil poke."

"You must be unfamiliar with poking etiquette!"

Bill was back up to his usual gregariousness. More than usual; Ford hadn't heard him this chatty in weeks. Not with him, anyway.

Just because of the bracelets? He couldn't imagine what else it might be.

He caught the hook around a hidden bar inside the door's lock, tugged it free, and unlocked the door. "Ha!" He swung the door open, beaming proudly—at Bill, who didn't look as though he'd registered that Ford had done anything interesting at all. "Oh. Right."

"'Oh right' what?" Bill walked past Ford into the museum.

"Nothing. It was just—an impressive bit of lock picking, that's all."

"Oh, I bet it was," Bill said sarcastically.

"It was!"

"And I'm supposed to just take your word for it because I can't prove you wrong? Sure."

"Why would I lie about that?!"

"To impress me!"

"I do not want to impress you!"

"That little smirk you did when you opened the door said otherwise!"

"That wasn't...!" Wait.

"So old even your body hair is gray, and you're still just a schoolboy so eager to impress your teacher that you're willing to lie!"

"I am not trying to impress you, I don't lie to teachers, and I am not lying now!"

Bill examined his nails casually. "Well if you want to convince me there's only one way! You have to give me the ability to understand what you just did!"

"Fine!" Ford reached for Bill—caught himself, and pulled his hand back. "Ah hah! Ahaha." He wagged a finger at Bill. "Nice try."

Bill grinned. He looked far too pleased with himself. "You almost fell for it."

"Not even close," Ford lied.

It was a relief to have Bill trying to get under his skin again.

While Ford dug in his pockets for a flashlight ("Didn't bring that useless Civil War lantern this time?" "I'm not lighting a kerosene lantern in a museum!"), Bill took the lead, wandering ahead into the dark. He informed Ford that they'd have to wait to visit the museum's subterranean ritual chamber until after they'd swung by the Hall of the Forgotten. This was the first Ford had ever heard of any subterranean ritual chamber beneath the museum. He would have been dying to see it first, if whatever "the Hall of the Forgotten" was didn't sound so cool.

And so, he followed Bill through the dark.

####

The Hall of the Forgotten had changed quite a bit since Bill had last seen it—mainly in terms of the quantity of memories cluttering it up.

Granted, he'd last seen it nearly twenty years ago—which was when they'd chiseled an X over the eye on the chest of the statue that watched over the room. Bill may have had billions of eyes upon Earth, but the Blind Eye had been rigorous about keeping them out of this room.

Not on purpose, he was sure—in spite of the fact that they'd taken over what had once been an Anti-Cipherite clubhouse, he was sure those idiots hadn't known a thing about him or how to counter him personally. It was simply a lingering relic of Specs's paranoia. But X-ing out any image of an eye they saw also meant X-ing out any eyes that just so happened to be intended to serve as one of his faces, and nobody was exactly flashing dollar bills around the room. He'd been frustratingly unable to keep up with the Blind Eye's movements for nigh on two decades now.

With, as it turned out, significant personal consequences.

The rebirthmark stretched across his chest itched.

As they entered the Hall and Bill didn't immediately see what he needed, he tried to peer above the third dimension to get a view past all those memory canisters piling up—and pain lanced his eye socket. He hissed, flipping up his eyepatch to press a hand over his eye. He'd more than overused his eyes today; he couldn't bend his eyes anymore until he'd gotten some rest. He'd have to look around like a normal person.

"Somewhere there should be a filing cabinet," Bill said. "Three drawers and painted a color so boring that looking at it makes you yawn. And a stock of unused canisters. Tell me if you find either of them." He started circling the room, peering around the piles, looking in the crates in hopes that he'd find one not full of old memories but fresh canisters. 

"What are all these?" Ford picked up a random canister. Bill glanced over at it; there was a label stuck to it with "ARNY WINN (TOURIST)" written on it in marker. Nobody important.

"Memories," Bill said.

Ford froze. He scanned the room, slowly making sense of what he saw—the mountains of canisters, some almost as tall as him. Bill fought back a smile, wishing that he could see the room through Ford's point of view: all these memories, people's memories, thrown in careless piles like they were nothing. There were more canisters than there were residents in Gravity Falls. It was a treasure trove of occult knowledge that Ford's precious college pal has robbed the town of—oh, that had to sting, didn't it. 

Horrified, Ford asked, "Every one of these is a memory?"

"Unfortunately, it looks like it," Bill grumbled. "Where the heck do they store the spare canisters!" He'd circled most of the room and dug at least a little into each of the crates, and hadn't found any blanks. He kicked the leg of one of a couple of heavy worktables in the room in frustration, then grunted in pain. He kicked the leg again a little harder. Oh, that was a nice. He'd do it again if he weren't worried about being able to walk without a limp the next few days. Had to be careful about doing permanent damage to this thing. He made a mental note about the work table for the next time he had the pleasure of driving a loaner body.

Ford asked, "Can we even use the canisters without the memory gun? I'd expected there to be a spare gun here."

"There'd better not be," Bill muttered, rubbing his chest. "But we don't need one! The packaging on these things is unusual to make 'em compatible with the gun—buuut at their core, they use the same tape you find in a standard video camera! If Specs was a little smarter maybe he would've designed his gun to work with the cassettes you already had in the house—but with a little jury-rigging," he lifted the camera they'd brought, "we can hook up one of the canisters to run through this baby, no prob."

Ah, there was the filing cabinet he'd been looking for: chest-high and beige, exactly where it had sat for twenty-five years, but now it was completely buried in canisters. Must not have been used for a while. Bill shoved an armful of memories off the filing cabinet, tapped twice on the top, and lifted it straight into the air as lightly as a balloon to free it from the memories burying it on every side. The pile slid in on itself and collapsed in the cabinet's wake.

Ford winced. "Careful with those! Don't break them."

"These tubes are made of plastic as thick as your incisor, they won't break." He settled it to the ground near the statue, tapped it once more to return its proper gravity, and started rummaging through its files. The Blind Eye used to keep meticulous records of all the victims they'd "helped"—name, time, date, circumstances under which they'd been brought in to have their memories erased, what they'd witnessed, who else might have witnessed it, the number of their unique memory canister—but it looked like they'd fallen behind some fifteen years ago. Probably as their memories of even their own secret society and its procedures became muddled and patchy. Bill might not have been able to watch their little club rooms from afar, but he'd certainly been able to check in on their dreams, and ohoho, were their minds a mess.

He found a well-worn folder with the memory gun's blueprints and their notes on its upkeep, and another folder with the society's membership list. He flipped through the memory gun file until he found Fiddleford's initial blueprints, and inserted Mabel's map with it, its corner peeking out of the folder like a tempting bookmark; then he emptied the top drawer's contents, plopped in the blueprint folder and the membership folder, and slammed the drawer shut.

"Is this what you're looking for?" Ford was examining the memory playback station. He had opened a drawer on one side of the console, revealing a couple dozen canisters neatly lined up.

"There they are! Finally!" Bill pulled out an empty canister. "All right, you get to researching—" He grabbed another canister off the shelf behind the robed statue, where the most important memories were stored, and plopped it down in front of Ford, "—while I set up the rest of the scene."

Ford glanced warily at the canister Bill had left for him—the one with Preston Northwest's name. "What exactly am I supposed to be researching?"

"Your character! You want to get his voice right, don't you?" Bill dug into another pile of memories, scanning the names. "Ah, this oughta be a good one." He set another in front of Ford.

"You expect me to watch these?"

Bill had already dug back into the memories, but he paused to glance at Ford. "You were planning not to?"

"I—of course I wasn't going to watch! These are records of—of people's psychic violations!"

Bill gave Ford what he hoped was an incredibly disbelieving stare.

"I mean..." Ford gestured helplessly at the memory canisters, "Sure, this is a treasure trove of Gravity Falls' lost and forgotten paranormal secrets. Of course I want to know what they contain. But finding out like this would be incrediblyunethical, since these are people's memories—and stolen memories at that—and none of them agreed for their memories to be taken, much less for me to watch them. No matter how much I'd like to—"

"Stanford Pines," Bill said. "If you'd stumbled on this room all by yourself, and if I weren't in the room inspiring you to second-guess the morality of everything you do—would you have stopped for a second before devouring these recordings as fast as you could?"

Ford thought that over. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched sheepishly. "Well."

He really was just like Bill in all the ways that mattered. He had the same appetites. If he weren't so stubbornly determined to reject everything Bill had ever taught him, by now he'd be regularly swimming in other humans' dreams just to comb through their memories—never mind watching stored memories at the museum. It was a pity for him he'd rejected all those gifts. Pity for them both.

"There's no one here for you to impress!" Bill gestured around the room, bereft of any human presence but Ford's. "But if you want to skip this part and risk getting the guy's accent a little wrong and tipping off the agents, fine! You're only risking your entire family's arrest—"

"I hate you." Ford reached for the canister with Preston's memory, then stopped and forced himself to take the other instead.

Bill turned away before the screen lit up. A woman's voice filled the room: "Where am I?! What do you think you're doing?! If you don't let me go, I swear I'll strangle you with your own stupid red bathrobes—"

Blind Ivan replied, "Be calm. Cooperate and this will all be over soon."

"Like hell am I cooperating! Let me go! HEEELP—"

"All we want is for you to tell us one thing: what is it that you have seen?"

Bill set another canister on the console. "You don't have to watch this one, Toot-Toot's not in it."

Ford had stood five feet back from the console to pretend he could literally distance himself from the violation he was participating in; but his eyes were already glued to the screen in fascination. He reluctantly dragged his gaze from the stolen memory. "If I don't need to watch it, then why are you adding it?"

"These aren't for you! I figure Agent Bermuda could use a little primer on the Blind Eye. These will show him everythinghe needs to know."

"None of them—implicate Fiddleford, do they?"

Oh, who cared if they did. Bill bit back several snide retorts. They were being civil. "No. They're all from the last five years."

Ford eyed the newest canister distrustfully.

Bill sighed heavily. "Fine! Don't take my word for it." He gestured at the playback station. "Watch it yourself, if you think we can afford to waste time!" He sat on the worktable, crossed his legs to cradle the camera in his lap, and pried it apart to get at the wires.

After the first memory ended, Ford grabbed the one Bill said he didn't need to watch. Bill had found another memory he wanted Powers to watch; but this one, he absolutely could not let Ford see. He took off his hoodie—he needed to be in his dress shirt for his part in their recording—and slipped the canister beneath it.

In between memory playbacks, Ford asked, "Does anything else in here implicate Fiddleford?"

Bill fought back another sigh. "Not directly. He took his own memory canister home when the kids brought him here." Bill would kill to find out what had happened in the museum that night. He'd been forced to stare in frustration at the hallways while agitated cultists and an entire half of Bill's zodiac ran back and forth between the Blind Eye's eye-free chambers. Spectacles recovering his full memories just days before Stanley was scheduled to reactivate the portal could have spelled disaster. "There might be a few memories in here that he recorded personally before Toot-Toot took over—but he was involved in the Blind Eye for under two years before he scrambled his own brains, anything he recorded is probably buried somewhere at the bottom of these mountains. Even I wouldn't know where they are."

Ford hesitated, then reluctantly nodded. "Fine."

Why in the world did he want to protect that hick so much anyway? When Ford found out one friend was up to secret shady things, he swore a thirty-year revenge mission against him; when he found out the other one was, his biggest worry was making sure he didn't get arrested for it! Bill had done far more for Ford than that walking waste of potential ever had or ever could—and of the two of them, Bill might have invaded Ford's brain, but he never erased part of it. Not without putting almost all of it back later, anyway! Oh, no no no—when Ford confronted Bill about what he'd been doing behind Ford's back, he didn't destroy the mnemonic evidence and deny everything, he owned up to it! It was admirable, really! But who did Ford consider "trustworthy"? Why didn't Bill warrant that kind of loyalty?

It was unfair. It made Bill feel... sick. That was probably the emotion he was feeling. Sick, that Ford wanted so badly to patch things up with that cowardly, backstabbing, underachieving loser, while he'd written Bill off completely.

(Not completely, Bill reminded himself. And then he buried that thought as deep into his subconscious as he could.)

Ford watched a few more random memories while Bill attached the empty canister to the camera with electrical tape; Bill heard him mutter, "'What is it that you have seen?'" under his breath, trying to match Ivan's inflection. Eh, Ford wouldn't win anything at the Academy, but it was good enough for community theater.

When Bill glanced over, one of Ford's hands was twitching toward his coat pocket the way it did when he wanted to grab his pen and start taking notes. He gradually moved closer to the console with each playback; by the time he turned the screen off, he was leaning on the console with both hands. "I think I've got the hang of my role."

"Great. Stick that first memory you watched back in, I want Powers to see it first." Bill hopped off the table, holding up the camera. "Ready for your acting debut?"

####

Half an hour later, as they walked back from the Blind Eye's ritual chamber to the Hall of the Forgotten, Bill said, "That wasn't so bad, was it!" He was spinning the canister with their false memory on one finger. (He'd almost dropped it three times.)

"No," Ford admitted grudgingly. "It was... a bit like Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons."

"Ugh."

"Except more immersive than pen-and-paper roleplay," Ford mused. "Maybe I was overly hasty when I dismissed Soos's invitation to FCLORP."

"Ugh. You're already nerdy enough, stay away from that slippery slope," Bill said. "Marker-and-cardboard isn't the step up from pen-and-paper you think it is. You wanna know why this is more immersive? Because you believe in the game you're playing now. Sure, you're only pretending to be the Blind Eye's boss—but you're actually part of a conspiracy to bamboozle a federal investigation."

Bill politely (smugly) pretended not to notice the gleam in Ford's eye—mainly because, if he dared point it out, Ford would immediately try to convince them both he wasn't enjoying this. "I suppose that's true," Ford said. "Fantasy can't measure up to reality. Pretending to battle undead sorcerers to plunder their dungeons has never been as thrilling as actually battling undead sorcerers to plunder their dungeons."

"Exac—hey, when did you ever battle undead sorcerers?"

"I needed a thousand-carat blessed antiprism to focus the beam of the Quantum Destabilizer, so I went to Dimension 777.7—"

Bill laughed in delighted surprise. "Hold on, you found the lost treasure of the Undying Sentinels of the Sacred Mines? Aww, you shouldn't have," he cooed. "I prefer gold, but I'm flattered you went so far just to get such an expensive diamond for me!"

Ford pretended not to hear him. "DD&MD still has its advantages, though," Ford said. "In real life, I don't get to do as much math in the middle of combat."

"And there he goes, tripping down the slope into the Gorge of Geekery."

Back in the Hall of the Forgotten, Bill wrote "GOLDIE LOCKE (VISITOR)" on their false memory's label and planted it prominently on the memory playback station with the other memory canisters he'd chosen for Powers. "Ta-da! Trap set." He added a date in 2009 to one of the canisters, and loaded it into the station so Powers would watch it first; then scooped up his hoodie. "Wanna watch another couple before we go?"

Ford looked longingly around at the room full of free information; then shook his head. "No! No. I watched what I had to for this plan of yours work, and that's it. You won't make a voyeur out of me."

"I don't have to! You're already a voyeur—and you've got the gnome mating ball photos to prove it!"

"That was for scientific research and the answer is still no."

Bill tucked his hoodie under one arm so he could pick up a memory canister, casually switch it out with the one currently loaded in the memory playback station, and click it down into place. "Oops!"

"Nope! Nope!" Ford marched determinedly toward the door, hands covering his ears. "I am not watching any more! I'm an ethical scientific researcher!"

"No you aren't!"

"Let me pretend!" Ford veered around a pile of memory canisters.

And he locked his eyes onto one canister, immediately did a U-turn back to the pile, picked it up, marched right back to the memory playback station, removed the one Bill had started, plugged the new one in, and crossed his arms.

The recording opened up on a shot of Mayor Befufftlefumpter, sitting in his wheelchair looking around placidly.

"What is it that you have seen?" "Speak!"

"Well, uh..." The major tapped his chin. "My vision isn't quite what it used to be..."

"Just describe it as best you can," Ivan said.

"Alrighty. Welp! I was visiting my office in Town Hall for the first time in ten years, looking for some coupons I think I left at my desk, when this bear walked through the wall—"

Ford smacked the console. "I knew he knew something about the ghost bears!"

He didn't look at Bill. "Stop smiling like that."

When the former mayor had finished recounting his tale of ursine phantoms, Ford stomped toward the door, red in the face, without looking at Bill.

Before Bill followed, he switched out the canisters again for the one he wanted Powers to see first—and took out the canister hidden in his hoodie to balance it carefully on the right corner of the console.

####

Bill diverged from their path into the museum to pluck an out-of-date calendar for the museum's May events from a corkboard, and around the corner a new addition to the museum caught Bill's eye: a heavy black curtain had been hung over one wing, and it was surrounded by signs reading "NO PHOTOGRAPHY" "NO CAMERAS" "🚫📷" That was intriguing. He'd just love to find out what was behind that curtain.

But Ford wouldn't slow down just to go sightseeing; and as badly as Bill's eyes were throbbing, he shouldn't try to peer through the curtain that way.

That was fine. He could wait to see what was in that wing. If everything worked out, he'd be back here tomorrow.

####

As they approached the exit, Ford mumbled in nobody's particular direction, "I'm sorry."

Bill gave him a suspicious look. "What?"

"For the mac and cheese," he told the floor. He stuffed his hands self-consciously in his pockets and felt like an idiot. "And giving you burnt eggs instead. It was... petty."

Bill didn't answer. When he stopped walking, it took Ford a moment to remember that he had to get the door. He pushed it open. 

Bill walked past Ford without looking at him. He said lightly, "Were they burned? I didn't notice. I didn't eat them."

Apology not accepted, apparently. "Well. I'm sorry anyway."

Bill scoffed. "I'd kill to be able to take a peek under your skull." (Ford suspected that wasn't a hyperbole.) "One day you're laughing in my face for thinking you worshiped me, a week later you're saving my life. All your multiverse-hopping must've scrambled your brain. Tragic, since that's the only thing you had going for you."

Ford re-locked the museum's doors behind them. "You don't think there are any options in between worshiping you or wanting you dead?"

"I'm not the kind of person who inspires indifference."

"That's true."

Bill stretched as they walked to the car—fingers laced together, palms turned out, arms lifted over his head. It was a muggy night, and Ford could feel the layers of his sweater and trench coat cling damply to his back; but when Bill's baggie hoodie sleeves fell down to his shoulders, he lowered his hands, shook out the sleeves, and hooked his thumbs in the cuffs so the sleeves wouldn't fall again when he repeated the stretch. "Just get me back to the tomb. This body needs a little sleep before Romeo comes looking for me tomorrow."

"'Romeo'? Are you planning to trick him into drinking poison?"

Bill flashed him a wicked grin. Sometimes Ford was still hit by how incorrect Bill's human face looked—a mouth too low, teeth shaped like tombstones instead of arrowheads—and it was usually at moments like this, when the gleeful curve of his eyes was so familiar. "Hmm, now that's a thought! Not yet; but you should know better than to give me fun ideas."

####

"How was it?" Mabel asked anxiously, the moment the back door unlatched.

She was answered with a piece of paper shoved over her face. "The good news is I got something for your last project," Bill said. "The bad news is Ford's considering taking up FCLORP. Talk him out of it."

"I'll make all his cardboard armor."

"When I get access to my gang's group chat again, I'm inviting you just so I can ban you."

"It was fine," Ford told Mabel. "We had no trouble getting in and out and I think our recording was convincing."

"Did you... get along?"

Ford paused. "We were—civil."

"Ha!" Bill crowed. "And you thought I couldn't do it!"

"I did not. I thought you wouldn't do it."

Mabel inspected the calendar page Bill had given her. Aww, the last weekend in May they'd decorated straw hats with live bird nests and she'd missed it.

Bill trudged into the living room, flopped into Abuelita's chair, and said, "Wake me up if anyone needs orders." He pulled his hood down over his face and retracted his arms from his sleeves. 

"Is there anything else I have to do?" Ford asked.

"Uhhh..." It took Bill a long moment to summon up an answer. "No. Go sleep. Up here, in case I change my mind."

"Fine," Ford said, sighing in relief.

Mabel waited until he'd headed upstairs to get ready for bed; then crept into the living room. "Hey, Bill?"

"Hmm?" He tilted his head just enough for one tired eye to peer out from the shadows beneath his hood. "Aren't you supposed to be writing a threatening anonymous letter?"

"It's fine, Grunkle Stan isn't back yet." She sat in Stan's chair by Bill. "So..." She sheepishly tried to dodge around having to apologize. "Are... we cool?"

"I dunno. Are you cool?" Bill asked. "You're not going to turn lame on me, are you?"

"What! Why would I turn lame? I'm literally the coolest."

"Well, I thought you were cool," Bill said. "But if you were only being cool until you thought we were close enough you could start nagging me about everything—"

"No! No. It was just a one-time thing, promise. Because you and Grunkle Ford have a history, and I had to make sure he's safe—"

"Safe from all that flirting I've never done with him?"

"I got worried, okay!"

Bill crossed his arms under his hoodie. "Find another way to worry. Maybe one that doesn't involve scolding me for something I never did," he said. "If I had been trying to sweep your uncle off his unexpectedly five-toed feet, that'd be one thing—"

"(I didn't need to know how many toes he has.)"

"—but when I wasn't and you keep treating me like I'm already guilty—" He stopped, and said suddenly, as if he were changing topics, with a slight sharp tilt to his head like an old-fashioned TV dial being turned to another station, "Didja know it's way less annoying to be called a liar when you are lying? If you weren't lying but no one believes you, it kinda makes you wonder—why are you wasting your breath telling the truth in the first place!" How much Bill had just offered her about himself?

She sank back in her chair, trying to figure out how to reply. I'm sorry didn't seem to cut it. She suspected Bill really had offered her something; she wanted Bill to know she got it. "One of my teachers thought I copied Dipper on a book report. Because she thought mine was too good."

Bill considered that. "Fifth grade?"

"You already knew about it."

"Not this time," Bill said. "Buuut I know that's the year you started skipping the assigned reading. And I don't blame ya! If you're gonna get a worse grade for working harder, you can save a lot of precious time by phoning it in."

"Yeah." Unexpected relief flooded over Mabel. "Yeah, that's—that's it." She'd never been able to put it into words. Her parents had been worried, Dipper had been exasperated with her. Bill had hit the nail on the head in one sentence.

"Been there. I had a teacher who thought I was using my eye to cheat," Bill said. "So you know what? I did!" He laughed, absolutely no shame.

Being called a cheater had been the most humiliating thing to ever happen in Mabel's seemingly never-ending academic career; Bill's apathy was almost enviable. "Okay. So. There's no emotional stuff going on with you and Grunkle Ford." Just to clear the air. They could agree on it and move on.

But even though Bill had denied it immediately the first time, now, his eyes flickered uncertainly before he said, "Right. None."

That had been less definitive than she'd hoped. "None?"

"No romantic emotional stuff," Bill said. "I think we've cycled through just about every other emotional cocktail that human neurotransmitters can mix up, but desire isn't one of them."

Mabel decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. "Then what are you thinking about?"

"Nothing," Bill said. "My brain's empty. Four pounds of inert meat with no neurons firing."

"Oh, come on." She jabbed a finger into his cheek. "I can see it on your face! What's bothering you?"

He scrunched a shoulder to guard his cheek. "Nothing bothers me."

Mabel hissed, "Yes it doesssss." She leaned across the gap between their seats to jab Bill's shoulder with both hands. "I can sssmell it."

"Retune your sniffer, Miss Nose-y!" He flipped one of his empty sleeves to wave away her hands like a couple of mosquitos; but something in his eyes had shifted, something in the tilt of his pupils. He was caving. "I was just thinking about what you'd said about the—the goofy little 'be yourself' moral the critters are so fond of."

She had to think back to their conversation yesterday: where she'd tried (and failed) to explain that be yourself didn't mean be a jerk, even if you were really good at being a jerk. "You were?" Even now, Mabel was surprised whenever she found out that Bill had been actually thinking about Color Critters when they weren't watching it. It was good that he was thinking about it—she was trying to use the cartoon to teach him morals, after all—but she kept assuming that Bill treated Color Critters the way she treated pre-algebra. "You'd better not try to use it as an excuse to be a jerk again..."

"No, not that. I—figured out what you meant," he said. "It's 'be yourself,' but—not sink down to your worst self. Rise up to meet your best potential. Be the..." he made a vague gesture ceilingward. "The best version of yourself."

"I... Yeah. I guess so. Yeah." Where the heck had that come from?

"This is supposed to be a cartoon for kindergarteners," Bill said wryly. "Their target audience can't even read yet, and they're expecting these kids to read between the lines?"

"Aww, was the kindergarten show's moral too complicated for you?"

"Shut your face. I figured out what it meant, didn't I?" Bill's eyes turned toward the doorway a moment before Mabel heard Ford's bootsteps coming downstairs. He pushed his arms back into his hoodie sleeves properly and timed his exit of the room so he was swooping onto the stairs the moment Ford stepped off. "I can't catch a nap down here," he griped. "Somebody thinks she's more important than this tyrannical body's need for R&REM."

"Sorryyy!"

"You are more important," Bill called down the stairs. "But that's the thing about tyrants! You can't reason with them."

Mabel should be getting to work on her next art assignment, anyway. But before she did, she followed Ford to his room and grabbed his sleeve. "Grunkle Ford, what'd you say to Bill while you guys were gone?"

"What?" He gave her a puzzled look. "Say to him about what?"

"I dunno! But you must've said something to him. He's been thinking thoughts."

Bewildered, Ford shrugged. "Whatever I said, it was the wrong thing. He gave me the silent treatment most of the way to the museum. I suspect he's even more irritated with me now."

Somehow, Mabel didn't think he was. She hugged Ford. "Well, whatever you said? Thank you."

####

Bill dug out his burner phone and plugged it into the extension cord Soos had strung into the room. He considered sneaking out his stolen journal to slide Mabel's crayon portrait in it, then elected to just hide it beneath the couch cushions. So that it would be within arm's reach, in case he ever needed it. For some reason.

And then Bill slept.

Or—tried to.

This stupid body needed it; he'd been up almost 22 hours, burning the psychological oil as he tried to pull together this scheme—and he'd had an hour or two of very vigorous exercise in the midst of all the scheming. By all rights, he should be out like a rock that vividly hallucinated 3-5 times a night.

But instead, he kept thrashing in his thin sheet, twisting and trying to get comfortable. He couldn't quiet his mind. Too restless. The thoughts he'd tried to drown in his subconscious had bobbed back to the surface. Hearing over and over in his head, there's a good person in you. A wonderful person. A wonderful person. A person worth risking a universe for.

Him.

Any time you want, you could choose to be the muse you've always pretended to be.

You already are that muse.

Dr. Stanford "Six-Fingers" Filbrick Pines had said that about him. The one and only Bill Mischief Cipher. Ford knew exactly who and what Bill was—and he'd said that about him.

He couldn't sleep. He could feel his heart fluttering in its cage. He could feel his lungs struggling to grasp at the thin air. He felt dizzy. His brain burned.

By the time Bill's mind finally quieted, he'd squirmed and clawed his way halfway across the orange couch. As his consciousness blinked out, he dully registered the scent in the cushion: the comforting scent of the Nightmare Realm. The smell of burning hair.

######

(Post-TBOB changes! Inserted one or two sentences saying the Anti-Cipherites originally used the Blind Eye's meeting places—I'd already decided the Blind Eye got the place due to a connection with the Northwests (and had already written a scene expanding on that), and Abigale Northwest née Blackwing is the only person with both the motivation and resources to build weird culty ritual chambers beneath the museum, so thanks TBOB.

Added some subtle Theraprism allusions to the wording of Bill's "you don't wanna save me, you wanna save some person you've imagined me to be" speech; he's always been indignant & defensive in this fic at the idea of people trying to "benevolently" "fix" him, TBOB just backs that up. Added a couple mentions of Bill's death scar. Since we were already talking about Bill & Mabel's slipshod school careers, I slipped in a light allusion to Bill's disdain for assigned reading.

Everything else is the same. One of the most common post-TBOB questions I've been asked is "are you gonna make it gay[er] in the wake of TBOB?" and my answer is always: no, I'm going to make it exactly as gay as I'd planned to since 2023, on the same schedule I've always had planned. This chapter very much included.)

[wwooyology]

The Murder House | Masterlist & Intro ⏃

↳ this is inspired by an ask from the lovely @addictedtohobi

「parings」 : enha x fem!reader

「synopsis」 : it was halloween season once again, and your brother begged you and your friends to go to this new hit escape room that just came into town; the only problem? you hated going to them almost as much as you hated waking up early in the morning. however, being the good friend and sister you were you went with them. you expected cheesy props, dumb riddles and questions, and a rigged room, so you couldn't get out even if you got the right answers. what you weren't expecting was being drugged and waking up in a room with a dead body and separated from all of your friends.

「genre」 : horror/thriller, gore, angst, psychological thriller, mystery

「warnings」 : MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!, heavy gore, blood, murder, mentions of suicide, cussing, death, manipulation, mentions of being drugged, toxic behavior, reader is speculated to be an 03' liner, trauma bonding, other specific warnings on individual parts.

𝒄𝒂𝒕𝒄𝒉 𝒎𝒆 𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆

「taglist」 : CLOSED

↳ a/n: I have decided to make this into a short series because I just know trying to write one long fic won't suffice, so I am making it into separate parts! I am super excited to see what you guys think so far and to hear all of your theories. don't forget to read the intro at the bottom!! I will be figuring out release dates for all of the parts at a later time, but they will all be subject to change depending on multiple factors! also, if you were on the taglist located on the wip post, then you are still on there, so don't worry! with that being said you will only be added to the taglist if you are 18+ and your age is visible on your page. if you don't meet either of those criteria, you will be ignored.

「start」 : May 8th, 2024 「end」 : June 20th, 2024

「synopsis」 : after waking up trapped in a room with a dead body, you are saved by none other than heeseung, but you're still left with questions. why were you and your friends trapped there, and who is behind it all? though it would seem that you won't be getting your answers very easily and definitely not without a few losses. 「word count」 : 10.2k 「warnings」 : blood, dead body, cussing, mentions of murder, mind games, drugging, mentions of mental health disorders (anxiety, panic attacks, etc...), jungwon is kinda reckless, lmk if I missed anything! 「release date」 : read here

「synopsis」 : with everyone's lives on the line will luck be on your side? except it seems like whoever trapped you here doesn't plan on letting any of you leave that easy... suspicion is rising and trust is starting to falter, but can you save everyone and bust whoever put you and your friends through this hell? or will you have to watch all of your friends die? 「word count」 : 11.3k 「warnings」 : cussing, spiders/bugs, water, blood, mentions of betrayal, arguments, mentions of claustrophobia & arachnophobia/entomophobia, mentions of spider venom, life or death situations, more mind games, mental health disorders (anxiety, panic attacks, breakdowns, etc...), (some tags will be hidden as to not spoil the story!) 「release date」 : read here

「synopsis」 : everything seems to be going downhill at a rapid pace and nothing is going right and you've already suffered the loss of two friends, but the mastermind behind this doesn't seem to be satisfied just yet. another test is thrown your way but things are starting to become more clear and you're realizing that the culprit has been with you the whole time... but will you be able to stop him and escape this hell house with your lives intact? 「word count」 : 10.5k 「warnings」 : cussing, even more 'games', blood, violence, gore, gun goes pew pew, poisoning, betrayal, gaslighting, familial issues, mentions of abuse (mental & physical), knife goes stabby, threats, death, obsessive/stalker-ish behavior, mental health disorders, even more betrayal, traumatic events, police, pls lmk if I missed anything! 「release date」 : read here

「synopsis」 : it's been a few weeks since you managed to escape from the murder house, but it's not quite over yet. your brother's trial was right around the corner and everything is brought back to the table. after he's found guilty and sent to prison you are determined to find out some answers, though you aren't sure if you'll like what he has to say.... 「word count」 : 6.2k 「warnings」 : cussing, petnames (my love, love...), kissing, court trial, sister complex, familial issues, mentions of abuse (mental & physical), obsessive behavior, threats, mentions of death, gaslighting, lmk if I missed anything! 「release date」 : read here

“Come on, y/n. We never get the chance to do this!” Riki whined as he draped his taller frame over your back, causing you to slouch forward. You let out an annoyed huff, letting your hands fall to your lap. Your phone slid from your fingers as you tilted your head to look back at your brother.

“Riki, how many times have I told you that I hate going to things like that?” You pushed back against him, causing the boy to fall dramatically back on the couch. Rolling your eyes, you grabbed your discarded phone off the ground, Riki watching you with a pout.

“You watch too many horror movies,” he grumbled, remembering all the nights you would watch horror movies only to have some new-found fear afterward, even if it was something completely unnecessary.

You dropped your phone once more before glaring up at your brother, “ya know, there is always some truth to them.”

“y/n, please. They are just movies. Complete fiction. Ghosts aren’t real.” Riki rolled his eyes, picking at the loose strings of the couch cushion. 

“Even rumors stem from some kind of truth, Riki.” You huffed out, but it didn’t seem like your brother would stop pestering you until you finally gave in. So after hours of continuously asking and begging, you finally gave in to him, telling him that you would ask your friends only if he brought his own.

And he agreed.

When that dreadful night finally came, you were stuck in a car with all of your friends. The crisp October air was cold on your skin, but the heating in the vehicle that Jay had turned on was enough to leave you comfortable. Jake had some random playlist filling the speakers jamming out in the passenger seat while Jungwon, Sunghoon, and Heeseung were crammed into the far back of the SUV, all three on the brink of passing out from how long the drive was.

“I thought you said this place was in town, Riki.” You grumbled, flexing your jaw, trying to ease the discomfort from having it placed on your hand as you stared mindlessly out the car window. However, now that it was fully dark outside, there wasn’t much to look at, seeing that there were no streetlights.

“I mean, the address said it was in town; how was I supposed to know it was in the ass crack of it?” Riki sassed as he scrolled through his phone, looking at whatever was posted on social media.

“Language, dude.” Jay scolded the boy, his eyes staring at him through the rearview mirror.

“Korean, what else?”

Pursing your lips, you reached over and landed a smack on the back of his head, resulting in him letting out a groan as his head fell forward.

“What was that for?!” Riki exclaimed, rubbing the back of his head as he looked over at you with wide eyes.

“Don’t be such a smart ass.” You scolded him, and Riki grumbled before showing Sunoo something on his phone. 

Shaking your head, you lean forward, resting your arms on the back of Jay’s seat, “How much longer do we have to go?”

Jay quickly glanced at you from the rearview mirror, much like he did Riki, before glancing down at the GPS on his dash.

"It's saying we have about ten or so minutes left until we get there." He told you before putting his eyes back on the road. 

It was then that you started to notice just how desolate the surrounding area was. If this was such a hit attraction, why weren't any other cars around? Or any kind of sign of life. It was starting to give you the creeps. However, you just reminded yourself that you were doing this for your brother and that it was probably just your imagination playing tricks on you. So you just tried to relax, sitting back in your seat once more, eyes staring out at the blackness of the trees.

That feeling of unease only grew more once Jay pulled into the driveway, and you noticed that there wasn’t a single car in sight. You pulled your seatbelt off slowly, eyes searching everywhere, trying to find anything to settle this unnerving feeling that was twisting in your gut. As you opened the door, welcoming the chilling air outside, goosebumps littered your skin.

“Come on, y/n, get out. My legs are cramping!” Riki complained, pushing on your shoulder and urging you to leave the vehicle.

With a shaky sigh, you slowly let your foot fall to the ground, your knees feeling like jelly. Jay stepped out of the car, pocketing the keys before looking over at you. His eyebrows scrunched together, taking in the uneasy expression on your face.

“Hey, y/n, are you okay?” he asked, softly taking your arm and pulling you away from the open door so everyone else could pile out. 

“Yeah, it’s just…” You trailed on as your eyes caught sight of the small sign that was hammered into the ground.

The Murder House

You could have sworn that you felt your heart stop. What kind of douchebag names their escape room that? As if the air around you wasn’t suffocating enough, seeing that only made it feel like you were fighting for your breath.

“Sunoo, you’re in the back on the way home.” Heeseung groans as he stretches out, his joints groaning in protest. Sunoo just gave the older male the side eye before moving to stand on the other side of Jake, who had just gotten out of the car.

“Riki, I thought you said this was a hit attraction.” You looked over at your brother, who was inspecting the area much like you were until his eyes landed on you. “Why is there no one here?”

“Calm your tits, sis. I’m sure we just came on a night that no one else wanted to?” He rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, that just means we won’t get stuck with some randos.” Heeseung shrugged, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket.

"Come on, y'know, we didn't come all this way just to chicken out," Jungwon grumbled, tossing his hair with his fingers.

You curled your lips inward, knowing that they were right and that you were just thinking too much about the situation. Crossing your arms over your chest, you nodded your head in silent agreement. Jay wrapped his arm around your shoulder, giving you a gentle squeeze, ignoring the prying eyes that were on the two of you.

“Don’t let it get to you too much, okay? We’ll just get it over with, and if anything, we just let the timer go out.” He whispered softly in your ear, and the warmth of his breath eased your mind slightly. 

“You’re right, I’m just overthinking.” You gave him a small smile before following after him and the others.

“God damn, Riki, why did we have to walk all the way up here?” Sunghoon huffed as all of you reached the steps of the porch.

You couldn’t help but laugh, knowing he was right because that was a pretty lengthy walk uphill. All of the guys nodded in agreement before Jake walked further up the step, trying to see if you were able to get in. He then noticed a welcome sign hanging from the door, with a small basket underneath holding a piece of paper.

“It looks like we got some instructions, boys and girls,” Jake exclaimed with a broad smile, turning with the paper held high.

You looked at him uneasily as he unfolded it with a flourish and started reading it out loud so everyone could hear.

‘You will have two hours to uncover the grand mystery and escape the murder house. You will find clues and puzzles, but be careful, for everything isn’t as it seems… Good luck!’

A shiver ran down your spine as he finished reading. You weren't sure whether it was the chilling breeze that swept through or the cryptic words of the note. However, you did know that it wasn't just your mind messing with you; there was something deeply wrong with this place.

“Hey guys, this seems really weird. Maybe we should just go.” You voiced your concern, earning yourself a collection of groans from the guys.

“Oh, come on, y/n. Stop being such a negative Nancy and have some fun for once in your life.” Jake rolled his eyes, his hands falling to his side.

Your jaw clenched shut, and a glare adorned your features before you leaned forward, snatching the paper out of his hands.

“You’re such an asshole, Jake.” The words tumbled out quietly as you reread the same message that Jake had just read aloud, trying to see if there was anything else that he had missed.

“Yeah, yeah.” The brunette rolled his eyes before going on to complain about how thirsty he was and how he was sure that they would have drinks for sale or something inside. Then, without another word, he opened the door despite the multiple protests from you and a few others. 

“Jake, you can’t just walk in like you own the place!” You exclaim, hands slapping against your thighs as he disappears around the corner.

Letting out a huff, you step past the threshold, trying to shake off the eerie feeling that started to settle into your bones before going in the direction you saw Jake go, everyone trailing after you.

You walked into the foyer with a groan as you saw the older male chugging down a water bottle, some of it trickling down his chin before catching on his shirt. Your eyes then trail over to a tray that sat in the center of the table, six other bottles neatly placed inside.

“Jake, you can’t just take shit that’s not yours!” You scolded him, which only caused him to stop drinking, a gasp leaving his lips as he pulled the bottle away.

Riki then walked past you, looking down at the table and seeing some kind of note. Taking it, he held it up so everyone could see.

Free refreshments!

“The host probably just sat them out for people to take.” Riki shrugged, setting the paper back down on the table before grabbing a bottle for himself. 

Your stomach turned as you watched him unscrew the cap, “we can’t just trust drinks that are given to us by some random strangers.”

Heeseung then moves past you, his arm brushing yours, before grabbing one of the bottles. He inspected it for a few seconds before meeting your gaze.

"It's still sealed; there's no way someone tampered with it," he explained before twisting the cap open and swallowing a few drinks.

“Weren’t you the one complaining about being thirsty in the car?” Riki raised an eyebrow at you, and you just rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, but-” “But what, just drink the water, it’s not like you’re gonna die.” Riki quipped, causing your jaw to tighten. You knew he was right; you had been complaining about not bringing an extra drink for the road, but you weren’t quite sure if you were thirsty enough to drink some random water given out by a stranger. However, the dry feeling in your throat was telling you otherwise, so with some hesitation, you took the bottle Jay was handing you before twisting the cap off and bringing it to your lips; the liquid instantly quenched your dying thirst. 

After everyone got a much-needed drink, they all needed you all gathered around the coffee table. You, Heeseung, and Jay were on the long couch while Sunoo, Niki, and Jake cramped on the loveseat, leaving the armchair for Sunghoon, Jungwon perched on the armrest. 

“So… when does this game start?” Sunoo asked, leaning forward so his arms rested on his knees. Looking around, you couldn’t help but notice that the room was neatly decorated and clean, yet there was no sign of anyone being there.

Heeseung then leaned forward to grab something sitting on the table, catching everyone’s attention. He flipped it around, trying to find any indication of what it was, but nothing was written on the outside, so he opened the flap and pulled out the papers inside.

“It’s more instructions,” he explains as he starts to read them aloud. It says that as soon as the… the… sorry, I just feel really lightheaded.” He mumbles, shaking his head while squeezing his eyes shut, trying to stabilize his vision.

"Hee man, are you good?" Jay asked, putting a hand on the older male's shoulder, and Heeseung just nodded.

“Yeah, I just…” Heeseung’s words slurred as he started to sway, his eyes drooping. 

Panic started to set in your chest as you noticed that Heeseung looked like he was on the brink of passing out. Just then, Jungwon slumped to the side, falling right into Sunghoon’s lap, causing him to start calling out the boy’s name.

You quickly stood to your feet to check on him, but you fell back into your seat just as soon as you stood, your vision swimming. However, as you looked around, you noticed that all of the boys were either slumped over or on the brink of passing out. 

Worry then etched itself into your bones when your hazy vision landed on your brother's motionless form. You opened your mouth to call out for him and tried to get your body to move, but it wouldn't respond, and no words left your lips. Then everything seemed to fade, and your body grew weaker and weaker until you fell to the side, your head resting against Jay's back before everything went black.

Your body shot up with a gasp, and your ears rang so loud you could have thought it was coming from some kind of speaker. However, as it started to die down to a dull shrill, you realized that it was just you.

Looking around, you felt a chill run down your spine. You couldn’t see a thing. The room was shrouded in darkness, with not a single light in sight. Panic then started to set in as the earlier events started to play in your head. 

Where was your brother? Or your friends? What caused you all to black out?

So many questions started filling your brain, some overlapping others as you fumbled to get to your feet. You blinked multiple times, trying to fully stabilize your vision and to see in the darkness.

A scream escaped from your lips as you tripped over something, landing in some kind of liquid. Your heartbeat roared in your ears as you hurriedly tried to get to your feet, the ringing in your ears growing louder.

Scrambling to your feet, you reach out in front of you, trying to find the wall, and as soon as you do, you start searching for the light switch. With shaky hands, you felt around the wall until you felt the switch. Letting out a relieved sigh, you flipped it, allowing the room to flood with light.

You looked up with a smile before remembering that your hands were still covered in whatever you had fallen into. Your gaze then fell down to your hands, only for the smile to be wiped away and your eyes to go wide.

Blood. Your palms were covered in blood.

Your stomach turns the urge to throw up very strong; dread then fills your veins as you slowly turn around. A high-pitched scream leaves your lips as your eyes are set upon the body of a man, blood pooling all around him.

Fear clouded your brain as you quickly turned back around to open the door. Rushing over to the wooden door, you wrapped your hands around the knob, hoping that it would turn. But it didn’t.

The door was locked, and you were trapped.

@wwooyology | Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or repost any of my work

𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗 : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ ᴀ ᴛʀᴜᴇ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ ꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴛᴀᴋᴇɴ ꜱᴇʀɪᴏᴜꜱʟʏ.

[the-secret-keeper]

Where MC Tells the Dateables + Luke About How Horribly They Were Treated In Twisted Wonderland Part 2

Part 2 to my previous post that was requested by @sweetlicorice but with the Dateables + Luke. I hope you enjoy it!

First Part (Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, Asmodeus, Satan, Beelzebub, and Belphegor)

TW: Talk of being overworked, burnt out, starvation, hunger, Abuse of Power, Very Angry Demons/Angels/Sorcerer (not at you), mental breakdowns, nightmares, a lot of talk of food in Lukes, and missing a pet (he's not dead, don't worry)

Reader is referred to as MC by characters, and MC is gender neutral. Having said that, this is in second person POV, so for the most part you are referred to as "you" by the narrator.

Characters include: Diavolo, Barbatos, Simeon, Solomon, and Luke

Can be read as Romantic or Platonic (EXCEPT FOR LUKE, HE IS STRICTLY PLATONIC)

This will be long, so stories under the cut

This is organized by character with some context at the beginning (it's the same as the original post, so if you've read that, then you can skip it if you like)

~

First, it was a coffin. You were kidnapped by a horse-drawn hearse, woke up in a coffin, in another world. A world of magic, and wonder, but also one of pain, as you quickly learned. But you met people. You made friends, allies, and you were learning, even if you couldn't use magic.

And then, it was you landing rather harshly in a room that looked like an old-time, very fancy courtroom, surrounding by tall and intimidating looking young men. It was soon explained to you that you were in the Devildom, and were an exchange student, one that would be living with the Seven Deadly Sins for your own protection.

You didn't know what to feel. Gratitude for the much improved living conditions? Fear for living with a bunch of demons and going to school with demons that would likely have no qualms with snapping you in two if you stepped out of line? Sadness for the friends that you don't know how to get back to? Upset for being forced to leave the place you were finally starting to feel like you fit in at and having to leave Grim? It was a whirlwind inside, and for a time, that's where it stayed. Kept inside.

Slowly, the Devildom revealed to have similar problems as Twisted Wonderland, in the fact that it seems everyone in power here, aside from Diavolo and Barbatos, would like you to die.

Most of the brothers tried to kill you. One of them succeeded! Congrats to them you guess, though, no offense to Belphie, you don't think it was particularly hard for a demon to kill a human.

Through all of this, you got closer to those you were staying with, even forgiving Belphegor after everything. It only made sense that eventually, what happened to you, you started to open up to them about your past. About those that you met and bonded with, all that had been put onto you, and all that was different.

And after you opened up to them, it only made sense that you started to speak more candidly to the others as well, right? They deserve to know, just as much as the brothers.

Diavolo:

Diavolo confused you, more than anything. At least at first. He held the same position as Crowley, yet he acted more like a mixture of Kalim and Hornton. You were wary, obviously, as you should be. But you never excluded him. You always listened when he spoke, and asked his opinions on things that most would consider trivial. You went to him to ask questions about events, because, while Lucifer or Barbatos could answer your questions, you wanted to see if he was doing his job, or if this was another Crowley situation.

But he exceeded your expectations every time. He'd recognized that you would struggle with the curriculum, so he assigned that teachers would give you easier assignments and asked Satan to tutor you. He'd answer any questions about events and such, in detail, and always with an excited tone, and always willing to take suggestions, or ask your opinions. He never dismissed your asking his opinion, and he always seemed to appreciate that you were actively listening to him.

He even went out of his way to ask you questions, and ask your opinions. He'd invite you to spend time with him both in and out of the castle. And while he'd let you sit in his office as he worked, he never made you do anything more than your schoolwork. He took the time to learn about you. Your interests, your hobbies, your preferences. How you dress, what you like to eat, what you don't like to eat, and everything in between. Discussion never seemed to cease with Diavolo.

He took note of your lack of willingness to talk about the time you were gone, and he'd seen that time in your file. Barbatos seemed to know, but also told him that if he wanted to know he should ask you. He did ask gently a few times, but if he sensed he was overstepping even by a toe, he would withdraw. He didn't want to risk the progress he'd made in becoming closer to you.

One day, he had invited you out to the garden as a catch-up, because he hadn't been able to see you as much as he would like recently. There was cookies, some cake, and your favorite hot drink, made to your preference by Barbatos, who left the two of you alone. You and Diavolo did, indeed, catch up about the time you'd not been able to speak. But he noticed that a gargoyle he had recently had brought in had caught your eye.

"Do you like it?"

"It's not one I've seen before, is it new?" You asked, sipping your drink.

"It is! I just had that gargoyle installed." He smiled. "I'm surprised you noticed."

"I take note of the decorative statues, force of habit. I didn't know that the gardens were having plumbing problems?" You commented innocently.

"They are not. Why do you think that?" He asked, just as innocently.

"So, the statue doesn't have the rain spout function?" He shook his head at your question. "Then it is not a gargoyle, it is a grotesque. They look similar, but gargoyles have a rain spout function, and they're usually installed to prevent damage to buildings through erosion." You smiled knowingly.

"Fascinating. I did not know you knew so much about the subject."

"I don't." You set down your cup. "I had a friend, his name was Malleus. Malleus Draconia. But he let me call him Hornton. He had a club at our last school, called the Gargoyle Appreciation Club. He was the real expert, I just know the base level stuff."

"Did you join this club?"

"I wasn't officially a part of the club, but I attended all the meetings I could. We were both rather busy people, so we weren't able to meet up as much as we would've liked." You admitted.

"In what way?"

"Well we were both full-time students. And we were both housewardens. His dorm, granted, was much bigger than mine. But I'd stand to argue that my only roommate was more of a handful than half of his students." You laughed. "He was crown prince of Briar Valley, so he had a lot of responsibility to his kingdom, on top of schoolwork. I had a lot of schoolwork too, but it was harder because I didn't understand most of it." You sighed. "And that's not including the errands Crowley would have me run, and the paperwork he'd push on me. On top of picking up extra shifts at the Mostro Lounge for extra funds, in order to supplement what little I was given by the school. Not to mention, making sure no one Overblotted, and taking care of Grim." You listed.

"He made you do his paperwork?" You nodded. He gently tilted his head to the side, before righting it. "Did he pay you to do his work for him?"

"No." You shook your head lightly. "He often took away my housing and food budget, if I didn't do what he wanted, or, if I didn't do what he wanted in a timely manner." You admitted. "It was stressful to live there."

"I'm sorry to hear that you were stuck with such an incompetent person in charge of your care, he sounds truly awful. I am grateful to hear that you did so well despite it."

"It's not your fault." You smiled at him. "I miss my friends, truly. But I am happy here. I feel welcomed here, and safe. It's odd to say that. Yeah, any citizen of the Devildom could snap me in two if they really wanted to, but they don't. And they won't. But there were no such limitations back at Night Raven College. If anyone wanted me hurt, I'd have to fight them tooth and nail. Luckily, I did have people that had my back." You hummed at the memory. "My friend group is great. I do hope I get to see them again some day. But I miss Grim most of all."

"Who is Grim?"

"My cat." You beamed. "Grim is my cat. He's a special kind of cat. At least, I think he is. I don't really know what he is, in all honesty." You laughed. "But he could use magic, and breathe fire. And he could talk! He used to talk my ear off." Diavolo smiled at your elated state. "He really wanted to attend Night Raven College, so he broke in, in order to get accepted. He and I were accepted after a short stint as janitors, each as one half of a whole student. He had magic, and I had opposable thumbs." You joked, making Diavolo laugh, a loud, hearty laugh. "He would call me Henchman, and he was greedy, and sarcastic, but boy, I love that cat. When it came down to it, he was the one I could rely on the most. He was always there when I needed him. And if he couldn't help, he'd find someone who could."

"He sounds like Mammon." He commented.

"Mammon does remind me of Grim. Perhaps that's why I'm so fond of him." You hummed, smiling at the thought. "Grim and I were practically inseparable. He'd sleep on my shoulders, or in my arms, or in my bag during the day. He'd sleep on my bed at night. If you saw me, you knew he wasn't far behind." You smiled at the thought.

"You miss him that much?" Diavolo asked lightly. You nodded, without much thought.

"Don't get me wrong, I love it here. You guys are so nice to me, and I'm not overworked, or burnt out. You're nothing like Crowley, and that is a wonderful thing. But I do miss Grim." You sighed, after assuring him.

"I am sorry to hear that you have gone through such hardships. I did not know."

"How could you have? I never told you." You shrugged. "Thanks for that, by the way."

"Hmm?" He tilted his head to the side once more, eyebrow raised in confusion. You laughed at the sight of the crown prince of the Devildom looking like a confused puppy.

"I knew you were curious, about why I didn't trust you, about my past. But you didn't pry. Thank you, for letting me come to you on my own terms." He smiled, righting his head again, and nodding.

"Of course. You're someone I hold dear, I'd never want to make you uncomfortable."

"That's very sweet of you." You took another sip of your drink, before looking at him again. "Would you like to hear more about my friends from Night Raven? I think you would like them."

"Yes, I would like that very much. And you simply must tell me more about this talking cat of yours. I am curious." You smiled, before nodding.

You started to regale him with tales of your adventures at Night Raven, and all about your friends. He smiled, nodding along, and letting you talk, even though you both continued to chat long after your drinks had gone cold, and the treats stale. He didn't even want you to stop when Lucifer had come to fetch you from the palace, but he knew he should let you go.

Now knowing more, he was certainly going to look into finding this talking cat of yours. He would love to meet him, and he's sure you'd love to have him back as well. And if the internal anger he'd started to feel towards your previous headmaster was released in the process, well then, he supposes that kills two birds with one stone. Maybe literally for one of those birds, but who is he to say?

Barbatos:

Barbatos knew a lot. He knew you were wary, and he knew you ought to be. He knew where you were when you were missing, he knew a lot of what you went through. He knew that you were scared Diavolo would be like your last horrid excuse of a headmaster, and he knew that the brothers, and others, reminded you of your friends from the time you went missing.

But even Barbatos can miss things. It's rare, but it does happen, and he doesn't always realize it right away. However, he always does his damnedest to fix, or take a second look at what he missed the first time.

Barbatos had welcomed you into his kitchen numerous times. If he didn't want your help, you wouldn't, but you were good at taking care of little tasks when asked, to make things easier for him. And while the silence that filled the room was always warm, and comforting, light conversation wouldn't hurt. At least, that was what he assumed.

He had decided to make a chestnut tart, and you couldn't help but think back to your first official day as a student at Night Raven, or rather, the night before. It was a fond memory. One that you laughed at when you looked back on it.

"What has you chuckling over there?" Barbatos asked, a teasing tone slipping into his normally formal speech pattern.

"Just, thinking about my old school."

"You do not often talk about Night Raven, so do tell me if I am out of line by asking, but what are you thinking?"

"My first official day as a student there, or, the night before, a friend of mine came to my door with a collar around his neck. Apparently, his housewarden had put it on him, for eating a tart. A chestnut tart," you smiled, lifting up the handful of chestnuts you had been holding, so that he could see, "and we had to do this whole big thing to get enough chestnuts to remake the tart, and it ended up being all in vain, but I think it was fun."

"A collar? Like a dogs collar?"

"Sort of. It's kind of hard to explain, but it took away his magic, as punishment."

"For eating a tart?"

"Yeah, Riddle... he was going overboard on the rules. But he was doing better when I left." You admitted. "This was the first time my friends had relied on their upperclassmen for help, and I got to meet some of my friends that way. Trey was an exceptional baker. And Cater... Cater didn't like sweets." He laughed at the way I phrased it. "Cater was nice! I didn't mean it in a bad way!" You tried to defend, but he just laughed harder. "No! Stop laughing!" You laughed.

After the two of you calmed down, a silence fell over you once more. It was comfortable, but something was telling you to reach out. If anyone would understand, even a little bit, it might be Barbatos. And even if he didn't, Barbatos has always been someone you can rely on. It wasn't like he'd judge you, Barbatos was nice like that.

"It wasn't long after that, that Riddle Overblotted." You admitted quietly. You knew he heard you, you could've barely breathed it, and he still would've heard you, he was perceptive like that. "That was the first, of seven Overblots that I had to deal with. And, admittedly, he was one of those I had the best relationship with afterward, aside from maybe Hornton. But, that's because I was friends with two of Riddles first year students." You shrugged.

"You sound quite fond of this Riddle."

"He was a friend." You hummed. "Riddle was great, and he was doing a lot better when I left. I like to think I had something to do with that. But I was closer to other people. Like Ace and Deuce. And Grim."

"Who?"

"Which one?"

"Grim. You have spoken a bit about Ace and Deuce before, comparing the arguments Mammon has with his brothers to arguments they would have. But I know nothing of this Grim."

"Grim was my cat. Well, to be honest, I don't know if he was a cat. I call him a cat, because he looked like a cat, and he kind of acted like one, but I don't know what he was." You admitted, finishing your task. You stopped, and turned fully to face Barbatos' back. "He could speak, and breathe fire. He could use magic. That's how come we got stuck together. But I wouldn't change that for the world, I could really rely on Grim."

"To chase away rats?"

"He would do that, yes," you laughed at his question, "but mostly if I was in danger, I could rely on him to help. I mean, I'm magicless, and I was in a magic school. I needed him, and he needed me." You smiled, looking at all the peeled chestnuts, and thinking of all the fond memories of your cat.

"Do you miss him?"

"Yes. I miss him more than anything." Your head snapped up to look at Barbatos who had turned to face you. "Please don't misunderstand, I love it here. Everyone is so great! I just miss my cat. He's been such a big part of my life for such a long time, it just feels weird without him, you know?" He nodded.

There was a moment of silence between the two of you, and for once, it was stifling. You could tell he was angry, but you didn't know at what. For him, he was upset, because he knew a little bit about what had happened, but he didn't know that you'd had to deal with a life-threatening situations like Overblots before. He felt terrible that he couldn't protect you.

"So, grind the chestnuts, yes?" You asked, wanting to break the palpable tension in the air.

"Oh, yes." He nodded. "And MC?" You looked up at him, waiting for him to finish speaking. "You can always talk to me. About anything."

"Thanks Barbatos. I appreciate that." You smiled, before turning back to your task.

He didn't say anything more than that, but you felt the tension slowly disappear. You didn't know that the chestnuts he was grinding up, he was imagining were tiny skulls of your previous headmaster, as he plotted his demise. But he didn't let you know that, wanting you to feel comfortable talking about your past in his presence, or to him in general.

Simeon:

Simeon was someone you felt drawn to. You didn't know why at first, but you chalked it up to either him being an angel, or him simply being a person you felt was good, and you hadn't been around anyone that purely good in a long time. He didn't mind very much, he thought you were lovely. Despite your flaws, and imperfections, he loved to spend time with you.

It helped that you loved Luke, and were very willing to help him whenever you could. You were always so nice to Luke, and to Simeon, which is what made him like you quite a bit. He knew something had happened, but you had made it pretty clear that you didn't want to talk about it, in a rather polite way. And he respected that. He didn't want to push you before you were ready.

While a lot of the time that you were over at Purgatory Hall, you were baking with Luke, or studying with Solomon, you did take the time to just exist with Simeon. You could be doing separate activities in the same area, and occasionally asking a question, or having a full-blown conversation very animatedly with him. He didn't care which. He just liked your presence. It's nice to be around someone who has common sense.

Simeon, for all his angelic qualities and traits, has an aura that makes you want to open up. He's very warm, and inviting. You find yourself having to restrain yourself from talking about the past with him, because you don't really want to put that on him. You knew that it was inevitable, but you kept putting it off, not wanting to have him ask questions about your past.

Occasionally, you would take naps in Purgatory Hall. With Simeon and Luke's angelic presence, it wasn't often you had nightmares while there. It seemed that they warded off nightmares simply by existing. But that means nothing when they were both out of the house, and Solomon was in his bedroom, looking for a book, leaving you to fend for yourself in your horrible dreamscape.

Simeon returned from dropping Luke off with Barbatos, to see you asleep on the couch of their living room. He smiled at the sight, one that he was accustomed to seeing every now and then. But his brows furrowed when he noticed your tense expression, and how you seemed to be breathing a bit heavier than would be normal. He glided over, graceful as ever, and gently kneeled next to you, placing a comforting hand on your face.

It was warm, like a comforting hug from your grandma, or when it's just starting to get warm during spring. Your expression eased, feeling comforted by his presence and touch, and you woke up soon after, your nightmare no longer existing, and your brain waking up.

You groaned lightly, opening your eyes slowly, still adjusting to the light. You saw Simeon sitting there, smiling at you, his thumb rubbing your cheek comfortingly. You smiled back at him, soothed by knowing he was there. He backed away, allowing you to sit up, and he took a seat beside you on the couch.

"Did you have a nice nap?"

"It was ok." You smiled, strained a little from realizing that you'd been having a nightmare, and Simeon's presence was what warded it off, not from it ending naturally.

"You looked like you were having a nightmare." He gently prodded.

"I was." You admitted, nodding to your own words.

"Would you like to talk about it?" He asked, gently placing a hand on your shoulder.

"It... it's hard for me to discuss sometimes." You admitted, looking away from him. "It's not like my memories of my time at my previous school are all good. Most of them are. The memories of studying, and my friends, along with the things that I learned, the things I experienced, and the people I met, they're all amazing. I wouldn't trade those for the world. However," you hesitated, pausing for a moment to try to choose the right words, as Simeon remained silent, simply listening to you, "there were many instances in which I suffered. It wasn't always easy, living there, and dealing with Crowley. My life was in danger quite often. And there was usually little that could be done to prevent such things, other than training. And their training consisted mostly of magical training which as we know, I don't have, so it was useless to me. Grim was always so happy to learn more about it, even if he hated studying, he always did want to learn more about magic, and become a great mage."

"That sounds like something Satan would admire."

"Well," you laughed at Simeon's gentle comment, "Grim is more like Mammon than he is Satan, so while Satan loves cats, and Grim is one, I doubt they'd get along very well, as much as I loathe to admit it." He laughed as well. "I would get nightmares there too."

"What would you do when you got them?"

"Usually, I'd just sit with Grim sleeping on my lap, or lay with him sleeping on my chest, and pet him. I'd pet him and stare at the ceiling, or out the window, until I was too tired and went back to sleep, or until it was time to get up for the day. Grim was the only comfort I had at the time. He and I, we were like an unstoppable duo, you know? Inseparable."

"It sounds like you love your cat very much."

"I do. Grim was one of the few things in that world that brought me comfort. He brought me a lot of stress too," You laughed, "one time he got stuck in a contract and ended up having to serve another Housewarden while underpaying them. I had to find a way to break that contract. Oh, and, and that time he got kidnapped. I had to travel, with help from two students, well, a student and a Vice-Housewarden from another dorm, to help get him back. I love Grim, he's my best friend. Don't tell anyone else I said that though," you joked, raising your pointer finger to your mouth in a shushing gesture, "the demon brothers and others are quite jealous people." He laughed.

"Your secret is safe with me." He assured. You leaned onto him, resting your head on his shoulder.

"You're so good, Simeon. Someone as good as you is rare in the Human Realm, but it felt nonexistent in Night Raven. Everyone had an ulterior motive. It's nice." You hummed.

"You'll always have a place with me. No ulterior motives." He promised, smiling at you.

You separated not long after, as Solomon called out for you, wanting to have you help him with something. But he didn't forget your words. He'd heard Barbatos and Diavolo talk about it, as well as the brothers, so he knew how bad your Headmaster had been, and he had an inkling about the other Housewardens. But he had never heard about your cat being stuck in a contract, or him being kidnapped. It made him worry about what you went through that you weren't telling them.

But he knew he'd always be there for you, no matter what you told him about your past.

Solomon:

You talked to Solomon about your cat, Grim, quite often. It took you a while to open up to him, but when you did, you told him about Grim, and your friend group. All the happy memories that you made together. You always alluded to the not so happy memories, skirting around them, and dodging his questions when he asked. Doing so told him more than you realized.

It told him that you weren't comfortable talking about it. It told him that the bad times were really bad, and you likely didn't want him to direct any rage against one specific person. For a while it made him think you didn't trust him, but once he realized you weren't telling anyone about these parts of your past, he realized it wasn't just a thing you did with him.

Solomon loves to learn about Grim. The fact that he looks like a cat only adds to his curiosity. He wants to meet him, wants to know what he looks like, and why he's able to do all that he is. You made him swear not to summon him just to dissect him, or pester him with questions he doesn't have an answer to. Of course, this was after you made him swear not to summon him without telling you.

He realized after a while, that you weren't homesick for Night Raven. You never considered that place a home, and told him as such. But you missed the people. Especially Grim. You miss your friends, the people you considered family. He did look into interdimensional travel, but it wasn't so easily done, and it wasn't something he could do on a whim. Even just summoning one person or creature from another world wasn't very easy. Even for Solomon the Wise, who was an extremely powerful sorcerer, it wasn't going to be simple.

"Can you pass me that?" He asked, pointing at an ingredient on the table as he read his spell book.

"What're you doing?" You asked. "I mean, what's this potion meant to do?"

"It's a simple healing potion, but this recipe is new, I've not seen it before, so a colleague of mine asked me to peer review it." Holding the jar he had pointed at, you peeked over his shoulder.

"Oh I know this one!" You beamed. "Crewel taught it to us."

"Crewel is?"

"The potions teacher! He also taught poison refining. This was the first potion he taught us."

"Really?" He asked, looking at it. "That's strange. How on earth did the same recipe occur in both?"

"I mean, it's not really that strange." You shrugged. "Minor healing potions are pretty common in both worlds." You said, looking at the measurements. "It's not that weird that someone managed to figure out how to make the same potion in both worlds. The measurements are off in this one though."

"How do you know?"

"Crewel is very specific, and also Grim kept messing it up. By the end of that class, I had the recipe memorized because of how many times I did it." You told him. "Here, let me just,"

You picked up a pencil, and penciled on a separate, blank piece of paper, the recipe you had memorized, and showed it to him. He compared the two, noting the small difference in measurements that didn't line up with doubling or halfing the recipe. The ingredients were the same, or mostly the same. It was likely they had the same effects, and were similar, despite being from two different worlds.

"Why don't we make both recipes? One according to your measurements, and one according to theirs. That way we can give them your recipe if yours ends up being better." He suggested.

"Sounds like fun." You smiled.

A moment of silence passed over the two of you, light requests for ingredients came from him, and you obliged. It wasn't tense, not by any means, but he could tell there was something you wanted to tell him. He didn't pry though, knowing you'd tell him when you sorted it out yourself.

"I think you'd like him."

"Crewel?"

"Yeah. He was very smart, and an awesome teacher. He'd let me hang out in his office sometimes while I was doing schoolwork. I bet you'd like a lot of my friends. A lot of them were really chaotic, but that's part of their charm." He laughed. "Grim added to that chaos, definitely. But they were just as chaotic without him." You smiled at the memories. "Crewel, or perhaps Trein, would be a much better fit for headmaster than Crowley. I'm sure you'd approve of both."

"I've heard you speak of Crowley, vaguely, but I don't know if I've ever heard you say very much about him, in general. Is he really that bad of a headmaster?"

"He is a bad headmaster. Full stop." You told him. "You'd be a better headmaster than he was. Hell, at the rate he was going, Belphegor, would be a better headmaster than him."

"Belphegor sleeps more than he's awake."

"I'm aware of the comparison I've made." You nodded to your own words. "I was more of a headmaster than he was, towards the end of my stay there. Always doing his paperwork, and handling his duties." You muttered bitterly. "Crewel and Trein did try to make it easier on me, whenever they could, but they were full-time teachers, so they couldn't very often." You shrugged. "It was what it was. Can't change it now."

"Was Grim never any help?"

"No, not usually. But he was pretty good at taking our friend group away from me when I was about to explode from stress so I didn't blow up at them." You acknowledged. "And he did like to sit with me as I did the work, usually on my shoulders, or my lap."

"Sounds like he liked to keep you company."

"Grim and I were practically inseparable." You smiled. "We did have other friends. Ace, Deuce, Jack, Epel, even Sebek, but Grim and I were still really close. I think you'd like them all."

"I think you forget that I'd likely be the oldest one there."

"In my friend group, yeah, probably. But certainly not the oldest in the school. I mean, Malleus is a fae, and he's pretty old despite looking and acting rather young. And Lilia is even older. Granted, I don't know either of their exact ages, they're funny like that, never very forthcoming with information about themselves." You explained. "And I'm sure they'd still be fun to be around, my friend group. I mean, you've got Ace and Deuce, who never stop fighting, Grim, who is a talking, fire-breathing cat-like creature, Jack, who's a very loyal wolf beastman who can turn into a wolf, Epel, who looks somewhat feminine, but is the epitome of a raised on a farm in the middle of nowhere southern boy, and Sebek, the half-fae who has trouble with volume control and social cues of humans." You laughed as you explained them as if they were strange foreign beings, rather than some of your very best friends. "I miss them." You smiled, fondly, as you thought of them.

"I'm still looking." Solomon said simply, as he continued with what he was doing. He looked up. "You'll be the first to know if I find anything."

"I appreciate that." You nodded.

Nothing more was said until Solomon finished both potions, a silent acknowledgement of the fact that you felt comfortable enough with him to want to introduce him to those you hold dear was enough to keep him from wanting to break the silence. Just the thought of you trusting him that much was enough to make him giddy. It made him realize that to you, he wasn't Shady Solomon, or Solomon the Wise. He was Solomon. Your friend. Someone you care very deeply for.

He continued to do his research after that. Looking for a way back to Twisted Wonderland. He wanted to meet your friends, and your cat. He wanted you to be able to see and talk to them again. He wanted to be able to see the place you lived, and watch as you interacted with your friends, be a part of this important piece of you. And, if he happened to find a way to transform your former Headmaster into a crow, and give him to Diavolo or Lucifer as a gift, under the guise that he accidentally summoned a new type of crow that was even more intelligent than the average one, then you'd never hear about it from him. You might hear about it from them. But that's a bridge he'll cross later.

Luke: (STRICTLY PLATONIC)

"What! You mean to tell me you've met someone who's a better baker than Barbatos and me?"

"I didn't say better, Luke." You laughed. "I said on par with. You guys are on the same level. And since you're from different worlds, imagine the recipes you guys could swap."

Luke was always eager to learn about your past. He got disappointed when you didn't tell him much, but he was the first you really started talking about your fond memories with. Your fond memories of the food there, that is.

He learned first about the horrors of Lilia's cooking, when he saw you being able to choke down Solomon's cooking. He didn't question it until Solomon was gone, but then you regaled him with tales of how awful such an ancient being could be at cooking. He made a vow to himself that day, and to you, for self-preservation, that he and you should never let those two meet.

But soon after he learned of the wonderful cooks and bakers. He learned first of Jade, Floyd, and Azul, who's cooking you had most often, as they gave you an employee discount. He learned of Jade's love of mushrooms, Floyd's love of Takoyaki, and Azul's love of fried chicken. He heard of their wonderful menu, and how Jade liked to experiment with mushrooms, and how Floyd's level of cooking depended on his moods.

He learned of Jamil, and his wonderful cooking, combining a variety of spices, along with the sheer amount he cooked on an average basis. He learned of Kalim's lavish parties, the load of cooking that each party demanded, and how often you were invited.

You talked of the wonderful takeout that Idia would order, along with the lectures you'd both get on nutrition from Ortho afterwards. You held Ruggie in high reverence, citing how he taught you the best ways to stretch a budget and cook on that budget. You compared Vil's diets to Asmodeus's, explaining their strictness and the reasons behind it.

Out of everyone, it seemed he knew the most about your last school, even if only through how often you talked about the food. He tried his best to recreate the dishes you really liked when you talked about them, and others he simple listened in wonder, wondering how these dishes worked, how they tasted.

He learned last of Trey. You specifically kept that away from him, as a sort of homage, so he could learn about who you knew would be his favorite one last. Trey who was raised in a bakery, and made some of the best sweets you've ever had. You knew he and Luke would get along, and you also thought it was a shame that they'd likely never meet.

"Trey was raised in a bakery, so he grew up baking. He's made sweets that I've never had before, and he's an expert at so many of them." You smiled at the memory. "Trey and you would get along great, I'm sure of it."

"You said that about Kalim and Epel too."

"Well, you're just so likeable. And so are they." You shrugged, laughing as he crossed his arms, not satisfied with that answer. "I'm sure that you'd all get along, Luke. Because you are all wonderful people." You smiled.

"Tell me about Grim again."

"Again?" You asked in a playfully incredulous tone, smiling at him as he enthusiastically nodded. You decided to play along, since the treats you both were baking were in the oven.

"Grim was my cat. My best friend. We lived together, we slept together, we ate together. He and I did everything together. He was very mischievous, and never wanted to study. He called me Henchman, and he loved his cans of tuna." You told him, having recited this information to him a number of times. "Grim loved food. And he'd eat anything. He and I were in it together, we were never apart. I could trust him more than anything. And he could always depend on me, should he need to. We were two halves of a whole, literally." You hummed.

"Was Grim that much of a glutton?"

"Oh yes. He ate anything. The only person who could get him to stop eating would be Kalim. Because he'd stuff him so full, and then continue to try to make him eat. I had to lecture him a number of times because he just wouldn't stop. I was, usually, unsuccessful." You sighed. "But Kalim always meant well. And he got it eventually! Now that I think of it, the only other person who could get Grim to stop eating would probably be Lilia, because he just couldn't stand his cooking." You both shuddered, at the thought of someone as bad at cooking as Solomon.

"He sounds a lot like Beelzebub."

"That's the first time I've heard that comparison." You acknowledged. "But no, Grim was more like Mammon. Loyal to a fault, greedy as hell. He called me Henchman, like how Mammon calls me Human. And they were both always there when you needed them, no matter how much trouble they got into along the way."

"I wish I could meet him."

"I wish that too. I wish you could meet all my friends. I think they'd really like you. But, I think we'd be staying away from Lilia if he's been in the kitchen." You laughed, and Luke quickly nodded in agreement.

[talaok]

i loved the hickey fic🥵

can i request a role reversal fic?

reader marks up joel and is unashamed about it

Pairing: Joel Miller x reader

a/n: thank you love, hope you'll like this although its been so long you probably forgot about this. and if you're interested, this is the fic they were referring to

It was just you and Ellie in the kitchen this morning. You were laughing about another funny dream she had last night, this one involving Joel trying to tame a gigantic sheep so he could ride it or something, she didn't quite remember the purpose, not that it mattered.

But as you both quite literally felt on the verge of tears from the image the dream was painting in your minds, the main character of said dream, appeared in the doorway, throwing you both a dirty look as if watching two of the three people he loved the most in this entire world didn't fill his old heart with pure joy.

"It's too early to be this chipper" he grumbled, walking to you to leave a quick kiss on your cheek as he reached for the coffee pot behind you.

A gasp sounded from the other sound of the counter

"oh my god what happened to your neck?!" 

And it was then, that Joel Miller, the unafraid, stone-cold killer of a man that he was, turned red from hairline to neck.

"O-Oh fuck I-" His eyes widened, his hand going to cover your work on his neck, but it was all useless, because the second Ellie's eyes landed on the smirk plastered on your face, she knew.

"oh my god ew" she groaned, rolling her eyes, her focus going back to the eggs on her plate.

"You remember Janine, that woman I told you about?" you explained, talking to her

She laughed at that, remembering your conversation about that woman who's always flirting with Joel.

"you filled Joel's neck with hickeys because of her?"

Joel wasn't even red anymore, he was turning purple, his eyes were wider than a deer's caught in the headlights, and you suspected he hadn't taken a breath since he first entered the kitchen.

"this..." you smiled, trailing your fingers on Joel's neck "is my own little way of telling her to keep her hands off my man"

Joel choked, he literally choked on his own saliva and just then, just when he was about to have a heart attack, Tommy entered the house, his eyes immediately going to the image before him with more than a little amusement.

"What have I walked into?" he grinned, walking over to the kitchen "And why does my brother look a breath away from exploding?" he laughed, his hands gesturing to Joel.

"y/n here was giving me way too much information that I certainly didn't want to know" Ellie explained, looking at you pointedly for the last part of her sentence, making you chuckle.

"About what?" Tommy asked

"About the work of art I left on your brother's neck"

"wha-Ohhh" he breathed, smiling like a smug bastard as he understood what you were talking about "Janine tried something again I presume?" 

"You presume right" you smiled, giving Joel a little kiss on the cheek and stifling a smile at how terrified he seemed "for the last time"

"You ok baby?" you asked, stroking his cheek

His gaze was on Ellie, his mouth parted in shock.

"You still with us man?" she asked, giggling softly, making him shake his head to try and get his mind to start working again.

And then, then the words came tumbling off his tongue, filled with what sounded like pure panic

"S-since when do you know what a hickey is!?"

Everyone in the room except him laughed, but when the shock on his features persisted, and Ellie regained her composure, she answered.

"I'm not a kid Joel, I know what sex is"

Another pang to his poor heart, 

he felt all the organs inside him twist into a knot

what the fuck was happening?

Did she just say-

"sex!?" he cried, looking a second away from having a mental breakdown "I-I never said sex- H-how do you even know- I- You- You're too young- I-I"

"ok ok ok" you tried your best not to chuckle, intervening before his heart really decided to stop "How 'bout we go outside for a moment huh? Take a few deep breaths? How about that?" you murmured, soothingly drawing circles on his back 

He looked at you then, looking every bit as disheveled as he sounded 

"y-yeah" he swallowed thickly, "I-I think that's a good idea"

He looked back at Ellie for a moment to make sure this wasn't a nightmare and he didn't just make that up, before you both left the room.

And as if on cue, the second you did, Tommy and Ellie started laughing like maniacs.

"I don't think I've ever seen him so scared" Ellie laughed, as Tommy sat next to her, patting her back

"Neither have I" he chuckled, none of them saying anything before an idea came to his mind.

a hell of a funny one

"ten bucks if you tell him you know what porn is"

[yoonieper]

For the Birds— Part 6 | JJK

I want you to stay even though you don’t want me.

♡ Pairing: Jungkook x Reader (feat. Yuri) 

♡ Genre: angst, smut, future fluff!, this chapter is pretty much pWITHp (can be read alone, however you will be a tiny bit confused)~

♡ Rated: I for Indulge

♡ Series Warnings: Lots of smut (not always healthy), cheating, discussions of depression, this series includes Jk in a pretty toxic environment, degradation (not the sexy kind), manipulation, and overall Jk being in an emotionally abusive situation!

♡ Chapter Warnings: smoking, alcohol, vague mentions of su*cidal thoughts, discussions about depression, vague allusions to substance abuse (alcohol), a few emotional breakdowns, a drop of subby Jk (truly a drop), handjob, slight dom Jk makes an appearance, oral (m + f), a hand goes over a mouth (;D), a hint of voyeurism, protected and unprotected sex 

♡ Word Count: 19.7k

♡ Summary: As the son of the CEO at Golden Tech, a marriage was arranged in the name of business. Jungkook really tried to make the most of his situation and be the best husband he could be, but no matter how much he tried, his wife just doesn’t seem to want him. Then you… you came into his life and his eyes couldn’t help but wander.

♡ Now Playing: goosebumps by Travis Scott— see masterlist for playlist! 

♡ Beta: Thank you so much to @mellowladyanchor @iutint @pearinwords for reading this part for me! If you’re interested in betaing a future part, dm me! If you're interested in becoming a permanent beta for this series please first click here and refer to 'details about the job' section for more details and dm for any questions you might have! Betas get early access to chapters, so if you're free to help out and can't wait for next chapter, consider joining the team!!!

♡ Author’s Note: Office Sexcapades Part 2! First series shift coming next chapter~ Just a fair warning, this series is about to take a dip, specifically regarding mental health— once again a reminder that if that is a sensitive subject for you please be cautious when reading the following chapters! And sorry to everyone once again for the extreme delay trying to get this out! Life happens :')  

No reposting, modifying. Translating is not allowed unless given explicit permission. Thank you so much : D

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Jungkook’s days had a tendency to go badly the very minute he opened his eyes. It was either Yuri, work, himself, or the most miniscule obstacle that even Jungkook could have never predicted. At this point, it was a curse he deserved considering everything about his shameful existence. Simply waking up was all it took for the world to start throwing shit at him for its sick pleasure just to see if he’d make it through the day. It was exhausting and today proved to be no exception to the torture. 

Jungkook woke up, made himself a little coffee, went to the gym, came back to shower, got dressed, then headed to work. Dae-Jung dropped him off in the garage, which had been something his dad always told him was the quickest way to go instead of through the main lobby. He’d skipped too many workouts, so in turn he asked his driver to let him out towards the back for the opportunity to get in his much needed extra steps. He bid farewell to Dae-Jung and then he steadily weaved his way through the sea of cars, mindlessly heading toward the door thinking about what he needed to do today, when bam— you were standing right in front of him getting out of the passenger seat of some random vehicle. 

It only took a second for his confusion and amusement at the situation to turn into something even he didn’t understand. With his luck with the universe, he should have known it wasn’t just going to be a funny coincidence you two could laugh about later. 

Jungkook watched, unbeknownst to you both, as you got out of the car first before Kim Taehyung emerged from the driver's seat. You were smiling, so was he, and Jungkook noticed as you started making your way inside a certain look in both of your eyes, an uneasy comfortability, that made him remember the fact that you two had dated before. 

The minute the door closed behind the both of you, Jungkook felt his blood boil to a temperature he was sure rivaled the sun. His relatively moderate mood at the time transformed into something monstrous and hideous. He had practically stormed in soon after you made it inside. He had no idea why he was so upset. Nothing had happened— nothing had happened, so why the fuck were you with Taehyung? 

Jungkook was never the best at hiding his emotions, so the minute Jimin walked in his office later that day, it was apparent by the pout on his face that he had an attitude. 

“What’s wrong with you?” Jimin tried to be lighthearted, but considering the situation Jungkook was in, it was hard to know how serious the issue might be. What if this was about Yuri?

Jungkook looked up at him and then went back to staring off into space. “Hyung, is it normal for a guy to drive a girl to work?” It was the first thing he said to him, and it was certainly not what Jimin had expected to come out of his mouth. He stopped in his tracks, feeling uneasy about the question. 

“Ummm… what’s their relationship?” Jimin asked, rolling with it. He came in here with a work question originally, but it seemed it could wait for the moment. 

“They say they’re friends.” Jungkook mumbled shamefully. He couldn’t even look his hyung in the eye confidently. It sounded nonsensical even to his own ears. 

Jimin almost wanted to laugh, but then he grew more worried wondering where this question was coming from. 

“Why are you asking? Don’t tell me, Yuri—” Jimin’s mind was always quick to go there. It had every reason to.

“No— no, I just watched this movie and saw people debating about it.” Jungkook quickly came up with the lame excuse on the spot. He didn’t know what to feel— better that it wasn’t about Yuri, or worse because it wasn’t about Yuri. He felt pathetic. 

“Oh… well, in that case, probably not. Someone definitely has feelings, maybe one or both of them,” Jimin giggled at that. He had a lot more experience in the romantic department, so Jungkook really took his advice to heart. It was a little ironic considering he was the man who had been married for nearly four years.

Jungkook tried his best to stay calm. He didn’t want to jump to any conclusions, but you had literally told him with your own mouth that you and Taehyung had dated before. He’d seen too many movies and dramas depicting exes rekindling their relationships after previously complicated circumstances in their lives had prevented them from being together at the time. Maybe you two have matured and are finally ready to embrace each other again in the way you couldn’t beforehand. Just because you both did date in the past doesn’t mean things needed to end between you two. But that very thought made a weird wave of emotion wash over him— sadness, anger? He wasn’t quite sure, and he was even more unsure why he was having a reaction in the first place. You might be embroiled with him in an affair, but your life was your business, not his, and he had no right to care. Right? Right…? 

He kept trying to reassure himself, but the minute he came out of a meeting and saw the two of you together smiling and laughing as you always did, he couldn’t get the thought out of his head for some reason. 

He just didn’t like Taehyung— Taehyung just… Why was he always there?! He was a problem, and Jungkook was confused why you didn’t see it. His own conflicted feelings pissed him off even more and just seeing you— you— why were you doing this to him?

When the meeting ended, he got out of there as fast as he could. The minute he made it back to his office, Jungkook sent you a text asking to meet him in the storage room, but not before grabbing what he needed out of his desk first.

It hadn’t been too long after Jungkook had arrived when you knocked twice and he opened the door. You had been in relatively good spirits before you walked in, that was until you saw the slightly dazed, but pouty look on Jungkook’s face when he guided you inside. 

“You ok?” you asked hesitantly when he closed the door behind you. You honestly weren’t in the mood to fight with him today. 

Jungkook didn’t say anything, but slowly nodded his head. 

He was fine? Yep, you didn’t believe that for one second, but if he didn’t want to talk about it, you didn’t either. 

“Well, in that case, I wanted to say I was actually a little glad you called me in here. All these meetings, graphs, spreadsheets, Excel— I’m honestly done with it all. I’m frazzled. It was so bad yesterday that I overslept and Taehyung had to pick me up this morning or else I would have been late,” you sighed, rubbing your temples to quell the stress.

You unintentionally had given Jungkook a rationale for what he saw this morning, but it hadn’t really solved the problem. Because why did you need to ask Taehyung when the route he takes to work isn’t too far from your apartment? You could have easily asked him to take you. For some reason, Jungkook’s brain didn’t take into account that you didn’t know that and instead focused on the fact that Taehyung had been your knight in shining armor, saving you from dealing with public transportation when you were already late. The thought just didn’t sit right with him for some reason.

“Anyway, I’ve been stressed, and I know this arrangement is mainly about you, but I was hoping you might be able to help me take the edge off,” you sighed, feeling a little embarrassed asking. 

Jungkook had no idea what that meant and was too distracted by the fact that you wanted him for something to even try to figure it out. He tried his best to keep his cool. You wanted him! 

When Jungkook didn’t say anything back and continued to have this dopey look on his face, you wondered if he understood what you said.

“Jungkook?” you questioned.

“Hmm—” it managed to snap him out of it a little bit.

“You do know what I meant, right?” you finally asked when he still hadn’t done anything.

“Oh— ummmm…” He was a bit clueless it seemed. You were far too prideful to ask him outright, so instead you took initiative and made your way over to the table. 

You didn’t turn around as you started undoing your pants— it was extra cold today, so you went with pants instead of the skirts you’d usually wear. In hindsight, if you had known he was going to call you in here today, you probably wouldn’t have worn them. Your cheeks burned as you pulled them down, set them on the table beside you, and kicked off your heels. You put on your best straight face, not wanting him to know how embarrassed you felt, before hopping up on the table.

Even in the dark, you could see Jungkook’s bewildered gaze, his eyes wide, and you wondered if he was blushing like he always did. 

“You get what I mean now?” The lilt in your voice made it obvious that you were teasing him, but you also couldn’t deny that you were a little impatient. You smiled at him as you spread your legs a little, hoping that would entice him enough to beckon him more quickly.

It was hard to see anything in the dark, but the glimmer of light that seeped in from underneath the door outlined your body in a way that had him practically drooling as he stared at you. Sometimes it was hard to believe how pretty you were, even when he could hardly see you. 

Jungkook made his way over quickly and once he got close, it dawned on him what exactly you were asking from him. 

“So, are you just going to stand there?” you asked softly, your eyes staring up at him innocently, yet the way your leg began to rake up his own made tingles spread through his whole body in a flurry.  

Jungkook was quick to close the distance between you two. The longer he kissed you, the more and more it dawned on him that you had asked him to do this for you, not Taehyung— fuck Taehyung. You had gone to him in a time of need and suddenly that thought made the flame grow all-consuming.

He wanted to have you. Jungkook was down on his knees soon after, lightly kissing and sucking along the expanse of your thighs. With the extra skin exposed, so soft, so warm, he didn’t know how to act. 

Jungkook treated you well. He always did, when he wasn’t cursing your very existence, and as he drew orgasm after orgasm from you just like you wanted, you felt the stress wash away the longer he was between your legs. He seemed especially focused on you despite his needs being the reason he called you in here, and in between the moments he was a major dick, you had to admit he was actually very sweet. He was so attentive, and in the short time you’d been doing this, you felt like he already knew your body so well.

Moments like this made you wonder how ten months could have passed without his wife doing something, anything with him. You didn’t want to speculate too much— that wasn’t really your business and you didn’t know their relationship enough to make any type of accusations. But unless Jungkook was leaving a big part of the story out, you just couldn’t understand her. 

Your mind grew fuzzy at some point, you ended up losing count of how many times he made you cum when you hit your limit— you still had to be able to walk out of here after all. You finally pulled him away, and you could see his face glistening despite the darkness in the room. It was a sinful sight that made a wave of electricity run right through you.

When Jungkook finally lifted himself to his feet once again, you saw the quick way he glanced down before looking into your eyes. Right, of course you couldn’t forget about him.

“Mmmm, just go slow. I have to make it back to my desk somehow.” It was sort of a joke, but you also legitimately feared that if you did anything more, Jungkook might need to help you to your desk, and you were sure people would ask questions. 

Jungkook quickly nodded before fishing out the condom he grabbed from his desk earlier. Truth be told, he had to go slow or he probably wouldn’t even last a minute. He had wanted to focus on you, and he relished in the pretty sounds you made as you ran your fingers through his hair. However, it got him so worked up that when you tugged on his strands particularly hard while you came on his tongue again, he nearly finished right along with you. Somehow he had held it off, but at this point, he felt like he was only a trigger hair away from losing it.

Slow and steady was definitely the way to go. The minute Jungkook wrangled the condom on, he was inside you moving at a nice, comfortable, steady pace. His strokes were languid, seemingly trying to pay close attention to the way he moved; deep, gentle, and lazily rhythmic, each glide made your toes curl. He filled you up in all the right places and it was so soft how all his attention was on your gaze. If you didn’t know any better, you would have said it was incredibly romantic. But alas, in reality you were getting fucked at your workplace by your superior who was a married man. Nothing screams romance more than that.

Despite his efforts to try to go at a steady pace, he still wasn’t able to last long with the way you squeezed around him. You were so slick from your previous activities, and your warmth made it frustratingly easy to give in. Suddenly, Jungkook came, nearly knocking the wind out of himself in the process as he worked his way through it.

By the end, you both were just trying to catch your breath. You knew you had to leave soon. You had been gone far too long and you knew someone would start looking for you soon. 

Jungkook moved away to throw away the condom while you worked on getting your pants on again. Suddenly, his voice cut through the growing silence. “By the way, my way to work isn’t too far from your apartment. If you ever need a ride in the morning, you can just text and ask.” You didn’t notice the blush that had spread across his cheeks.

You laughed. “And what would people think if they saw us getting out of the same car together? Just to save us the trouble of being bombarded with questions, I’ll only come to you if Taehyung isn’t available— but hopefully that won’t even happen anyway because, crossing my fingers, by New Year’s I’ll have my own car and I won’t have to worry about that anymore,” you tried to smile.

“Right… I almost forgot,” he laughed, nervously fluffing his hair. 

“You were the one who helped me, remember…?” You were a little surprised you needed to remind him considering it had only been a few days ago. 

“Right… right, I’m sorry,” he was always so quick to apologize. 

“There’s no need to apologize,” you mumbled.  

It hadn’t been long since that meeting where you had ended up being a tiny bit late due to being stuck in traffic for what felt like forever. Luckily for you, unlike the times you’d gone on your own, the fact that Jungkook hadn’t arrived meant that nothing could start without him there, so by the time you burst through the doors, you really hadn’t missed anything. 

On the way back, you had asked Jungkook about all the car stuff that had been bouncing around in your head since you started your research. You first made sure to remind him that unlike him, you weren’t the son of a trillion-won tech company’s CEO and you couldn’t get just anything. Surprisingly, Jungkook gave you some pretty insightful advice about what to look for and possible features you might be able to add within your budget. He even recommended a few brands to research further. It had definitely helped refine your search and now you were close to having something picked out and ready to move on to the next stage.

It was odd that he apparently forgot this had happened, but you didn’t want to get on him too much considering everything that was going on. Everyone was busy moving toward the end of the last quarter, and you could only imagine what other things he was dealing with that would cause the memory to leave his mind so easily.

•────•──────────•────•

“Mom?” You questioned as you answered the call.

“Oh? So my daughter finally decided to pick up the phone.” Her tone was so deadpan you knew you were one of the only people who could’ve picked up on the sarcasm and humor in her voice.

“I’m sorry…” You sighed, but a smile still remained on your face. 

“You decide to move to Seoul and ever since then it’s almost impossible to get a hold of you anymore,” she mumbled, and in the background you could hear the faint sound of something hitting up against the metal bowl she would always cook in.

“We just talked last week.” You reminded her.

“Last week…” you heard her scoff. “I should be able to talk to my daughter whenever I please!” 

At this point, you couldn’t stop the laughter knowing how dramatic your mom could be at times. “I’m sorry, mom.”

She scoffed again. “Where even are you right now?”

You pulled your jacket a little closer to your body as the cool breeze seeped even further into your skin. “I’m walking to the subway station. You called me as soon as I left the office.”

“At this time of night?!” She exclaimed scoldingly. You couldn’t blame her considering it was almost nine o’clock.

“I’ve been busy these days…” You simply settled not wanting to get into the details. Your mom knew about your work troubles to a certain extent. She knew about your frustrating boss and how that situation arose because you spilled coffee on him on your first day, but you kept the more painful details to yourself. She worries about you enough as it is and the last thing you wanted to tell her was how much you were suffering because of a mistake. You had been so eager to let her know about the improvement in your relationship following your promotion, you hadn’t found the heart to tell her things had gone south again.

Of course she also doesn’t know about the affair either, how you were now sleeping with the Jeon Jungkook you used to rant to her about until the early morning hours. It was still hard to admit to yourself that it was happening, and even though you knew your mom wouldn’t say anything to anyone about it, you couldn’t bear the humiliation you’d inevitably feel if you told her. 

“Is that why you never answer my calls anymore?”

“I’m sorry I’ve been so busy…” You sighed.

“You’ve always been busy. All you ever do is work; you’ve been like this since you were young. Most parents have to pester their kids to do their homework, but you’d already have it done before me or your dad made it home. You’d always be sitting at your desk with your head in your books already looking into the next week’s material.” She absentmindedly reminisced. You couldn’t help but laugh, your mom’s words hitting you with a wave of nostalgia you weren’t prepared for. You could never forget your nights working at your little green desk in the corner of your room. It sat right beside your window that provided a comforting view of the Busan cityscape, and if you squinted hard enough, you could even see the water despite how far inland your house resided. 

It was typically just you in the house for a few hours after you’d get home from school, both of your parents still out and busy hard at work. As soon as you made it home you were dropping your things off, taking a seat at your desk, and getting straight into work. Even while you were younger you didn’t want your grades to be another worry your parents would have to constantly think about, so you always felt the need to take initiative and work hard. It always made you so happy to see your parent’s shocked faces when they would get back from their second or third jobs and you would tell them you had finished all your homework and you were getting a head start on looking into what your teacher said you’d be covering in the following week. You lived for their pleasantly surprised faces, and from an early age, you made it your mission for them to continue to be proud of you. 

“I have to be busy so I can earn a lot of money.” You reminded her. 

“It’s always money with you… you’re just like your dad. Will you ever forget work and visit your family again?” 

“You know I’ll be going back a month from now. Plus, how else am I supposed to get you guys really nice Christmas presents?”

“But that’s too far away. Who cares about Christmas presents when I haven’t seen my daughter since you came home for my birthday, and that was three months ago at this point.”

“I know…” The guilt creeping in made your cheeks burn. You all were really close and even though it's been years since you’ve moved away from your little house in Busan, you used to always try and make time to visit home whenever you could, no matter how busy you were sometimes… 

“Your dad’s been sad you’re not visiting this year for his birthday. We’ve been having all his favorite dishes this week just to try and cheer him up.” You giggled at your mom’s words. Your dad could be even more dramatic than your mom sometimes, especially when it came to you. 

“Is that what you’re working on right now?” 

“Mhmmm. We’re having agujjim (spicy braised monkfish) today,” she said absentmindedly, likely focused on the next step in her internal recipe book. Just the mention of it had your mouth watering, and for a split second you debated if you could somehow take the train back home and make it back in time for work in the morning. 

“Tell him I’ll be sure to call him on Friday to try and make up for it.” 

“You should call me back when you make it home. I’m sure your dad would like to hear that from you himself.” Your mom mentioned.

You were immediately about to object, but the longer you thought about it, the more you realized there was no reason why you couldn’t besides being exhausted from your work day. Plus, you really had been busy lately so your phone calls home were few and far between. 

“I’ll try and see if I can, but no promises.” 

“I talked to your dad right before I called you, and he said he will be here in about thirty minutes. I’m expecting your call sometime after that.” Your mom was serious once again, but you knew there would be no hard feelings if you didn’t end up calling. 

Your parents know you best in how much you consume yourself with work (though in more recent years that hasn’t been on your own volition), so situations like this weren't exactly new. They were always your biggest cheerleaders in your life, and you could never forget how proud they were of you when you told them you got your job Golden Tech, and they nearly fainted when you mentioned your promotion a few months ago. 

“Tell dad I love him if you don’t hear from me in the next hour.” 

“Mmmm, and what are your plans after work tomorrow?”

You thought about it. “I’m actually leaving a little early to get my nails done after work.” 

“I see. I’m still expecting your call later, but if not, call us afterward tomorrow and make sure I get a picture of your nails.” Your mom added. She always loved to see them whenever you’d mention you got them done. 

“Will do.”

“Alright then. Be careful on your way home. It’s late, so if you’re not calling, be sure to text me when you make it back home.” 

You grinned. “Alright, mom. I’ll talk to you later. Any longer and I might miss the next train.”

“You better,” her seriousness was back, making your smile grow wider.

“I will, don’t worry… Bye mom~”

“Bye.” 

And with that you clicked off and picked up your pace. You were only a block away, but you still found yourself hurrying. The last thing you wanted to do was have to wait for the next train, it was already late. 

It just had your mind traveling back to Jeon Jungkook and how it was all his fault that you were at work for so long. He just made your blood boil, yet at the same time… 

You shook your head hurriedly. No Jungkook thoughts after work. 

It was easy to say that, but as you hurried your way for some reason his face continued to follow you even as you sped down the stairs of the subway station. He pissed you off, he really did. Why was he always in your head? 

•────•──────────•────•

You were on your way back to your desk when you spotted Jungkook by the meeting room. At first you were going to speed right past, coming to the quick conclusion that he was preparing for the upcoming meeting later on, but something just seemed… off. He was pacing in front of the doorway and the look in his eyes, even from far away, made your passing gaze linger on him with concern. 

Just as you were about to walk by the hallway, your feet stopped you entirely. The longer you looked the more worried you became. Even still, the panic didn’t set in until you got a little closer. 

“Director Jeon?” you called out hesitantly.

The minute Jungkook turned around, you could truly process the fear in his eyes. You had never seen him look so distressed, only rivaling that first night you shared in his office. His eyes were looking at you, but it was like he was staring right through your very being. What was going on?

“Jungkook, what’s wrong?” you said, far more seriously, grabbing him so he’d look at you. Your stomach dropped when you felt him shaking in your grasp.

“Uhhh— this— um— this presentation, I—” Jungkook stumbled over his words and seeing how disheveled he was, you knew you had to get him out of there. You looked around worriedly at all the people passing by.

You quickly told him to meet you in the storage room and said you’d be in a few minutes after. Jungkook didn’t fight you on it, instead he just steadily headed over in that direction while you walked in the other. You both knew you couldn’t be seen with each other, so the extra time allowed you to quickly show your face to your team and drop something off in your office before heading out to join Jungkook.

You knocked twice, waited a second, then knocked twice again— something you’d easily gotten into the habit of doing by now. When Jungkook opened the door, he still seemed just as distraught as he had when you parted ways. You hastily made your way inside to figure out what was going on.

Before you could really even get in the room, you saw Jungkook fall back against the door and sink to the floor. His breathing was shallow, so shallow you were worried he was moments away from passing out. His fingers quickly threaded into his hair and even in the dark, you could see how tight his grip was. You didn’t say anything at first, instead moving to take a seat right next to him.

“Deep breaths,” you said as you looked at him worriedly. 

Jungkook quickly reached for your hand and you let him squeeze it tightly. He wasn’t looking at you and you were worried he didn’t hear your words before, so you called his name again and started taking slow, deep breaths to get him to follow along. 

Jungkook’s eyes darted towards yours, and after a little while, he attempted to join you. It was like he had run a marathon with how out of breath he seemed. 

“I can’t— Y/n— I can’t,” he cried, and you held onto him tightly as you tried to calm him down a little. You rubbed reassuring circles on his hand as he tried to slow his breathing down. It took some time, but eventually you both got in sync. You didn’t stop, scared that the minute you did, Jungkook would go back to square one. 

It was Jungkook who finally halted doing the breathing exercises and pulled away before bringing his knees close and resting his head in his arms. You placed your hand on his back, feeling him shaking slightly still.

“We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.” Your voice was calm as you looked over at him. “We have a little bit of time before the meeting starts. We could just sit in silence if that’s what you prefer.”

Jungkook leaned his head back. 

“I used to not be like this— I don’t know what’s happening to me. I’ve given countless presentations in the past and I was fine. But these days, I don’t know— when I see their eyes it feels like they can see through everything and—” Jungkook was teary as he spoke, and things just grew worse.

“How am I ever going to run this company if I can’t even stand in front of people to give this stupid presentation?!” It was a thought he had never told anyone, his growing fear about becoming the CEO one day. He didn’t want to say anything because he was embarrassed. He wanted people to have high expectations of him, but he wasn’t even meeting his own these days.

This wasn’t even a big presentation. It was just a review of what the teams had already accomplished and what everyone needed to get done before the holidays. It wasn’t major, but there were going to be a lot of people there, representatives from all the departments and a few higher-up executives to check in and see how things were going. It should be simple, he’d done this presentation a countless number of times, but this year for some reason, just the thought of everyone sitting there and staring at him, only him—

It felt like that nightmare all over again; the executives judgingly peering at him, degrading him as he shamelessly took you on the table.

It had already been bad the last time he just had to go up there and say a few things when you did your presentation together. In that case, however, Jungkook only needed to chime in occasionally and give a little extra insight while you did almost everything. This time you weren’t going to be up there for him to hide behind. He had to stand there all alone, everyone’s eyes would be on him and—

The feeling of your hand moving on top of his tore him away from his rushing thoughts. Jungkook looked down at them, then back up to meet your smiling eyes.

Instead of saying anything, he threaded his fingers between yours.

“Their— their eyes are so scary. I know they’ll see everything,” his tears finally spilled over. You noticed the little light seeping in and reflecting off the wetness that began to stain his cheeks. 

He was shaking really, really badly. It reminded you of the fateful day your affair had started. His sad, watery eyes were peering into your own, practically pleading for help. It contrasted with the Jungkook you had begun to grow familiar with, the one who would get mad at you for no reason other than the fact that you existed. But this felt like the real Jungkook. Behind all the anger was someone so broken, it was almost hard to watch. 

You had seen his presentations in the past. Most of the time it was just executives who would be present, so for a while it was only on rare occasions had you’d seen Jungkook actually having to lead meetings. You had hated Jungkook at the time, but it was one of the few moments your hatred would dim and be replaced by a sliver of admiration. He was good. He would always be cool, calm, and concise when he talked, elaborating his points well whenever needed, and answering questions with just as much care and attention. It made his panic today seem even crazier when you thought back on what he was like just a year ago. It made you want to ask what had happened. You tried not to ask him too many questions, allowing him to tell you things only if he wanted to. After a little bit of thinking, you ultimately decided against it, figuring that if he wanted to tell you, he would.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do. I know I’ll get up there and will be shaking so much, everyone will hear it in my voice, just like last time— I’m so fucking pathetic.” And his fear just got worse. He couldn’t hide. They’d see him, they’d see everything— how incapable he was. He was a fucking mess and all his coworkers would see it.

“Don’t say you’re pathetic,” you finally interjected, hating how much he said that sometimes.

“I am, I can’t—!”

“Shhhh!” you squeezed his hand tightly. “Don’t say you can’t, because you can. I’ve seen you up there before.” 

Jungkook sadly laughed at that. “That was before, but now I can’t—”

“No— I’m not going to sit here and let you continue to say these bad things about yourself. Nothing good will come from doing that. You can do this, okay?” You were stern, yet reassuring all at the same time. 

Jungkook just stared at you wide-eyed for a second before he leaned his head back against the door. “It just looks so easy for you. You’re always so amazing when you’re up there. How do you do it?” he sighed, staring off into the darkness of the storage room.

It was now your turn to get a little flustered, but you quickly pushed the feeling aside to get back to the point. “Well, it just took a lot of practice. Presentations used to be a daunting task back when I was in school, but I picked up a lot of tips, tricks, and advice over the years that really helped me. I’m not a professional or anything, but I know that anxiety with public speaking can sometimes stem from other problems and stressors you might be dealing with. Considering you said you didn’t used to be like this, I would say that might be your issue.” 

Jungkook sat back and thought about it. That would make a lot of sense actually. “You’re probably right. I haven’t felt good in years, but this year in particular… things have gotten considerably worse.” His voice wavered at the end at the mere thought of it.

“We could talk about it if you like?” you mentioned softly.

Jungkook slowly shook his head. “Not enough time, and just…” He shook his head again.

“That’s fine. We could sit here and continue to take deep breaths together. Maybe it’ll help you calm down.” You would sometimes do a little meditation whenever you had a big presentation coming up and you were particularly nervous. Though what Jungkook was going through went beyond just the jitters, it couldn’t hurt to try it out. 

Jungkook steadily nodded, closed his eyes, and turned his attention to focus on slowing his breathing. 

He really had needed this. From the very minute he woke up this morning, the shaking had already started. He had so badly wanted Yuri to do something to take away the anxiety; even simply being a listening ear to his nervous ranting would have helped. 

Yuri had been around at the apartment that morning. Maybe she had no work plans and none of her friends were pulling her to hang out so early in the morning like they usually would on her free days. He wasn’t sure the exact reason, but he was happy she was home. 

Jungkook’s hands had been shaking so badly, he nearly spilled his cereal trying to bring the spoon up to his mouth. Yuri had asked what was wrong with him because of how jumpy he was, but the minute he mentioned the presentation, she had simply rolled her eyes at him.

“Isn’t that your job? Why in the world would you be so nervous?” She sounded so disappointed. She had every right to be, and it wasn’t even like she was wrong. It was his job; presentations weren’t new to him. Why was he so nervous? 

Jungkook couldn’t muster up the courage to say anything else after that, knowing all too well that if he continued, things might get so bad he wouldn’t even be able to leave his apartment. Instead, he tried his best to steady his increasingly shaky hand while he ate.

Honestly, Jungkook feared what might have happened if you hadn't pulled him into the storage room. He didn’t know why he had been outside of the meeting room. His racing mind had grown more and more anxious as time grew closer to the meeting. Somehow, his feet had carried him to the room where it would all be going down, not even to prepare, but to pace and pace because the shaking just wouldn’t stop and it was getting overwhelming.

Jungkook probably would have broken down right there, causing a horrible scene in front of anyone who passed by, but thankfully you had pulled him out of his daze and helped him plant his feet on the ground again. 

“Inhale,” you said softly. Jungkook took a deep breath in, letting his lungs fill with as much air as they could hold.

A few seconds passed before you continued. “And exhale.” It was just as soft as before and Jungkook finally released the breath he had been holding. The air escaped shakily, but it still felt like a weight was being lifted off of his shoulders. 

Inhale…

…

Exhale…

…

Inhale…

…

Exhale…

…

Inhale…

…

Exhale…

…

Along the way, Jungkook started paying more attention to the way you breathed. He tried his best to follow along with your calm, deep breaths in, followed by a long exhale. He was shaking, but gradually he was able to calm himself enough to follow your steady breathing a little more easily.

Breathing should have been his sole focus, but he realized his worried thoughts were also growing calmer as he thought about you beside him. You were too nice, far too nice for someone like him. He didn’t deserve it, he knew that’s what Yuri would say, yet for some reason you were down here with him on the floor trying to help him meditate. 

At some point, he just had to open his eyes again to look over at you. Your eyes were closed as you calmly breathed in and out. You looked so relaxed and… wow, you were so pretty. Even in the dark your beauty managed to pierce through the black you both sat in, and your bewitching presence relaxed him even further. His face warmed at the sight and an overwhelming emotion filled his heart and squeezed it so tight he almost couldn’t breathe. It was a feeling he’d never experienced before, one so consuming that for once, Jungkook put overthinking aside and acted on impulse before he could stop himself. 

It completely caught you by surprise, the feeling of his hand on your chin. You nearly jumped, but you quickly relaxed when you opened your eyes and saw it was just Jungkook. You glanced down at his hand before staring back up into his eyes. A new look had settled behind his gaze, one you were completely unfamiliar with.

Jungkook let his hand cup your cheek before he moved a little closer so there was hardly any distance in between you two. His gaze wasn’t meeting your own anymore. Instead, he was peering down at your lips. 

His thumb brushed lightly against your cheek, so soft, as he always was. You hated the way your heart tightened.

“Is this ok?” His voice was barely above a whisper.

Your body didn’t even give you the chance to think about it before you nodded. It was all Jungkook needed to finally close the gap between you two. This time was different. It reminded you of the very first time he kissed you— it wasn’t lustful, it wasn’t out of anger or frustration— it was… it was…

You loved the way his lips moved against yours. He was so gentle, and his soft sighs anytime he’d pull away to breathe were addicting. You loved the way he held you, so tenderly— no, this wasn’t right. What was going on? 

You kissed him a little harder, picking up the pace a little to bring things back into more familiar territory. Jungkook didn’t stop you, instead welcoming the way you kissed him more passionately. You normally never took the time to just make out like this, always quick to get to the main event. But Jungkook was a really good kisser. He let you take the lead, allowing your tongue to eagerly explore his mouth. He was always so skilled and receptive.

You grew hot pretty quickly and you could imagine Jungkook was the same way as one hand flew to your waist and the one that rested on your cheek pulled you even closer. It gave you an idea. As much as you didn’t want to, you finally pulled away.

“Jungkook…” you said, your breath labored. 

Jungkook hated each second you spent apart and pressed light kisses across your cheek. “Mhmmm…” he practically moaned into your skin. 

You had to resist just completely melting in his grasp.

“I can’t help with your nerves directly, but maybe there’s something I can do to better take your mind off things if you’ll let me,” you mentioned in between the kisses he kept planting on your cheek and lips. At this, Jungkook finally pulled away, seemingly interested.

You let the silence pass for a little while.

“Orgasms always helped me de-stress,” you smiled shyly at him, maybe a little too innocently considering what you had just proposed. You saw the way he steadily processed your words in his mind.

“Maybe.” He was beating himself up for somehow finding himself here with you once again, but you always did relax him. “I didn’t bring a condom though. I didn’t—” 

You shook your head. “I don’t think we have enough time to go all the way anyway.” You glanced at your watch and once it lit up you saw that there were only twenty minutes before the meeting was about to start.

Jungkook looked up at you, worry painted all over his features again. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you,” you reassured, placing your hand against his cheek. 

Jungkook seemed dazed as he stared into your eyes, before he quickly nodded his head. You smiled and shakily got up to your feet.

“Stand up,” you lightly commanded, not really wanting to suck him off on the floor. He did as you asked and before anything more could be said, you moved him toward the side of the wall so he wouldn’t bang against the door. With something a little more solid behind him now, you finally took the opportunity to pin him against the wall. 

Your height difference wasn’t much when you had your heels on, but even then, he was still a little taller than you. You doubted you looked that intimidating, but you nearly giggled when you saw the look on his face as you stepped closer. 

You made quick work of sliding your hand onto his waist and settling the other on his cheek. You smiled before planting light kisses across his warm skin and eventually guided yourself up to his meet ear. You brushed away his hair and being this close it only then dawned on you that Jungkook had not one, but two sets of shiny hoops in his ears that you had never really noticed before. 

“I promise to make this quick,” you whispered softly before planting a kiss right on his ear.

“Fuck,” Jungkook moaned as he quickly pulled you back to meet his lips. The position was hot, and you weren’t the only one who thought so. He’d never been pinned like this before and he certainly couldn’t say he hated it. No, if anything—

“F-fuck!” he panted as you moved down to suck on his neck. You were always careful about not leaving any marks. Jungkook was clumsy sometimes, but you knew the right balance of giving pleasure without going too far. It had Jungkook mewling as he embarrassingly started grinding into you slightly. He was subtle, but the friction combined with your mouth was enough to get him hard in no time.

The minute you noticed him chasing his hips into yours was when you figured it was time to move on to the next stage.

You kissed his lips one more time before dropping down to your knees. First, you checked the time again— fifteen more minutes. You really needed to be fast.

His belt and zipper came undone in a flash. Since he was standing this time, you tried to pull his pants down to make it a little easier for you to work, but Jungkook stopped you and mumbled something about it being quicker like this. 

Even if you were trying to be conscious of the time, you didn’t think it would take that long to pull his pants up when you were done. But that’s what he wanted and there really wasn’t any time to question him on it. Instead, you finally took him out. You were drooling at how pretty the outline was even in the darkness and how it felt in your hand.

“Y/n…” Jungkook whined as you stared. Right, it was not a good time.

You slowly began pumping his length. You made sure to be extra attentive in your movements, steadily increasing your pace, and focusing on the tip since you knew how sensitive he was.

Your eyes also were trained on his expression. It was hard to see exactly, but you noticed the way he leaned his head back and the tight grip he had on the shelf that sat beside you both. He was trying so hard to be quiet, you could tell by the soft whines that would sometimes manage to slip out of his mouth. He really was so pretty. What you would have given for more time to tease him further. 

You finally took him into your mouth, apparently a little unexpectedly by the way he nearly jumped out of skin. You hated to admit it was kinda cute. 

Jungkook’s hand quickly moved from the shelf to rest on top of your head. He was careful to not hurt you as his fingers lightly threaded into your hair. He tried his best to keep steady, but his legs shook with each swipe of your tongue. The warmth and wetness of your mouth was overwhelming in the best way possible. Just the view alone of you on your knees for him… god.

Occasionally, you would look up at him and tease the tip between your lips. Sometimes Jungkook would try to watch as you took down as much as you could, but the sight was so good that he would need to quickly look away, flushed, knowing that the end would come all too quickly if he kept watching. 

Before long, Jungkook was close and had to put his other hand over his mouth to stop himself from crying out. Somehow, he was still able to warn you of his impending release.

This prompted you to speed things up a little, knowing by now that time was probably not on your side. It didn’t take much more work before Jungkook was suddenly spilling into your mouth. His moans were muffled, but you watched in delight as you saw the tension leave all his features and his cum continued to paint your tongue. 

You wanted to stay there and let him bask in his post-orgasmic bliss, but you figured he probably needed to leave soon to go set up for the meeting. You stood up and from the new angle you could see how relaxed he was; his eyes were closed while he leaned against the wall, his breath steady unlike when you first walked in. You really didn’t want to ruin this serene moment.

“Hope that helped a little bit, but it’s probably best not to sit here too much longer,” you mentioned after some time had passed.

Jungkook hummed and his eyes fluttered open to look at you before staring off into the distance. “I really don’t want to do this,” he sighed.

“I know it sucks, but once it’s over, it’s over. Do you have any other presentations coming up?” you asked, and Jungkook eventually nodded. 

“One more right before the holidays start. It’s mainly to the higher-up executives, giving them a formal look into our plans for next quarter and the next year as well. Not as many people are going to be there as today, but it’s a little more important,” Jungkook groaned, running his fingers through his hair.

“We'll take it one day at a time. At least this one will be over shortly, and you can look back and—” but before you could finish, you felt a hand on your wrist and then suddenly you were pulled into something warm.

It took you a second to realize it was a hug. Your cheeks burned and you hated the way your heart skipped a beat at the way Jungkook nuzzled into your shoulder. He was so warm that you couldn’t help but melt into his embrace.

“Thank you… thank you for being here,” he sighed, and then all of a sudden you felt tingly everywhere. “Without you, I’m almost sure I would have had a breakdown right outside the meeting room, so thank you for just being here and… for helping out.” Your relationship was complicated for sure, but you weren’t the type of person to leave someone when they were clearly struggling. You may not exactly like Jungkook, but you didn’t hate him either. Sometimes, in moments like this, all he really needed was a helping hand.

“It was no trouble at all,” you tried to laugh, but it was hard keeping your voice steady when your heart was nearly beating out of your chest.

You stayed just like that for a second, wishing that you didn’t leave so soon.

“I guess I should go now. I still need to get my laptop from my office,” Jungkook sighed, and you quickly pulled away, remembering the time.

“Alright, you can head out first. I’ll see you in a few minutes,” you smiled at him, but right then you suddenly remembered something. You reached over to where the light switch was and quickly turned on the lights. You both cried out, then laughed at the sudden brightness in the room, but you tried your best to ignore it and do what you had wanted.

Suddenly, you were very close and your hands were back in his hair as you tried to fix the disheveled strands a little after his fingers had been running through it too many times. Once he realized what you were doing, he relaxed, and Jungkook’s gaze steadily fell to your lips. The pretty color that had stained them earlier was now smeared from your activities and he couldn’t stop himself from thinking it was one of the hottest things he had ever seen. 

His hands came up to rest on your waist, but you paid no mind as you worked. The position made him realize just how much he didn’t want to leave you. You always needed to be quick whenever you met up here, but today you had no time whatsoever to spare. It really sucked.

Jungkook tried his best to ignore how much he wanted to kiss you again.

“Alright. I couldn’t help much, but I was able to get things relatively in the right spot. You look great and I’m sure you’ll do fine.” 

It was then that you realized Jungkook’s gaze had drifted down towards your lips. With the lights on, you were able to see things clearly, his pretty lashes and all the cute moles on his face. He really was breathtaking. You were tempted to kiss him again, one last token of good luck before his presentation, but something about that felt… it felt like it wasn’t your place to do that. Instead, you smiled at him before pulling away again.

“How about this… if you have some time later, maybe I’ll give you a reward for finishing your presentation,” you mentioned as you watched Jungkook zip up his pants and redo his belt. 

Jungkook smiled at the thought. The presentation was the main thing he had to do today, but he also had a few documents he knew he needed to look through. He would possibly have time a little later to potentially sneak off with you again. Plus, by that time, no one would really even be around to notice he was gone.

“Secretary Yu is leaving early today, it wouldn’t be too hard to sneak off later, but I’ll let you know.” He was certainly planning on it. After the presentation, he knew he would need something to wash away the nerves again.

You nodded at that. “Alright… Make sure to take deep breaths, and if things become too much, just look at me and pretend everyone else isn’t in the room.” You had heard that tip somewhere and figured it would be a good last-minute suggestion.

Jungkook looked up at you again. “Thank you…” he smiled once again, still unable to believe you were even there. Why would anyone care for him like this?

“Again, no trouble at all. I’ll fix myself up, then I’ll be heading to the meeting room.” You could only imagine what your makeup looked like right now.

Jungkook smiled. “Alright, I’ll see you then.”

“See you then~” you waved as Jungkook hurried out the door.

…

The presentation didn’t go perfectly. It never could have, considering all the anxiety he was dealing with these days, but he’s sure that without your help, it would have probably been a complete disaster. He hit all the talking points that he wanted to, even if he was a little shaky, but hopefully it hadn’t been too obvious.

You were a big help, and just your presence in the meeting made things a little easier as he tried the trick you suggested and fixated on you a couple of times to maintain his cool. 

It went better than expected, and that was enough for him at the moment. As everyone started leaving the meeting room, it was good to feel the relief of it all being over. But now that things were done, all Jungkook could think about as he made his way back to his office was when he could meet up with you again.

•────•──────────•────•

Ever since the day Jungkook had left Yoongi’s office after breaking down in front of him about the affair, they had been texting off and on. It wasn’t much, mostly just Yoongi occasionally asking Jungkook if he was doing alright or if he had yet made an appointment with Dr. Kim yet. He had not.

Earlier today, the doctor randomly texted him to ask if he would like to meet up and have dinner since he apparently didn’t have any late night appointments that day. Jungkook wasn’t normally the type to say yes to something like that, not really enjoying other people’s company these days, but despite not technically being his therapist anymore, Dr. Min was still a professional and he knew he probably needed to talk to someone.

That was how Jungkook found himself leaving work a little earlier than he normally would and cruising down the streets of Seoul with Dae-Jung. A lot of people had already begun putting up decorations for the approaching holidays. Pretty lights twinkled in people’s windows and they came across frequent sightings of late night workers beginning to decorate small Christmas trees. 

Yoongi hadn’t texted him an exact address, instead giving him the details of the place across the street from where they were meant to meet. At first, Jungkook was a little confused by it, until they made it onto the road and he saw the pojangmacha (tent bar) at the end of the street. It wasn’t long before he saw Yoongi right outside. Jungkook hopped out of the car into the freezing cold, telling Dae-Jung he’d text him when to pick him up, and made his way over to Yoongi.

They both greeted one another, exchanging slightly awkward hellos before walking in together. It had been quite some time since Jungkook had been to a pojangmacha— maybe since college? It was nice. The cozy warmth from the heaters and the grill easily cut through the chill November air, providing a little oasis for the people coming in. Lucky for them, a table was already available so they were quickly able to get a seat. As soon as they sat down, Jungkook realized he’d forgotten to eat again today and his stomach growled as they both looked over the menu. 

The minute his eyes landed on Korean dumplings, he nearly started drooling as memories of them invaded his senses. He could practically taste them on his tongue. Jungkook eagerly pointed to them on the menu and then Yoongi ordered for the both of them, getting Korean dumplings for himself as well along with two sojus to go with their meal.

“I saw this place on my way to work today. They’ve come to this area before and they always have really good food,” Yoongi mentioned with a smile.

“I’m excited to try it. It smells really good here. I forgot to eat all day, so I’m starving!” Jungkook tried to laugh as he looked longingly at the food of the other customers. Hopefully their food would be served quickly…

Yoongi, however, was focused on something else. “Good food wasn’t the only reason I brought you here though. It’s been a little while since we’ve seen each other and I just wanted to check in on how you were doing. Have you managed to speak with Nam— Dr. Kim yet?” Yoongi asked, as a lady came over with their bottles of soju and some shot glasses. 

Jungkook steadily shook his head. “I’ve been really busy at work. I was just going to try and schedule an appointment after New Year’s when I’ll be a little more free again.” Like a proper dongsaeng should, Jungkook was already opening Yoongi’s bottle and pouring it for him. Yoongi tried to do the same for Jungkook, but he insisted he’d do it on his own.

“I see… Things are usually hectic during the holidays. I’m still a little worried, considering how you were doing the last time you came to my office, but I understand. How are things going with that by the way?”

Jungkook took his first shot. It was bitter today, of course. 

“With what?” Jungkook had to clear his throat as the clear liquid burned going down his throat. 

“The affair. Did you ever manage to tell Yuri about it?” Yoongi took his own first shot. He didn’t mean to be so blunt, but there was no use beating around the bush.

Jungkook stared at the doctor for a second before he hurriedly filled his shot glass once again, the clear liquid quickly rising to the top and nearly brimming in the process. He downed his next shot speedily and finished it with ease before finally managing to shake his head no. He still hadn’t told Yuri about what happened that day… and all that happened afterward. Frankly, he didn’t really want to.

Silence passed for a little while as Yoongi continued to stare at Jungkook. 

“Are you still seeing the coworker?” Yoongi eventually asked.

At this, Jungkook hastily went for his third shot. 

“Woah… no need to rush—” Yoongi mumbled in an attempt to tell him to slow down, but Jungkook shooed him away as he easily downed his third. As soon as he set the glass back on the table, Jungkook’s hands were threaded into his hair again, his grip tighter than ever. Eventually, he nodded. 

“Jungkook, look at me.” Yoongi softly commanded. Jungkook put his hands down and Yoongi was able to see that his eyes had grown a little watery. He took a deep breath before continuing.

“I tried to push her away, or maybe I didn’t. I probably didn’t try hard enough.” Something about confessing out loud that things were still happening between you two made the reality sink in even more. How horrible was he?

“She was the one who tried to tell me it was a bad idea to continue, but I practically begged her to be with me again.” Just the thought of it was sickening. Pathetic. What would Yuri say if she saw this? 

“I tried to focus on Yuri, she’s my wife for fuck’s sake. But she keeps pushing me away, and now… I just feel like I’m digging myself into an even deeper hole than I was in in the first place,” Jungkook's voice wavered. He didn’t know what was worse at this point— betraying Yuri’s trust over and over again, or the fact that he was enjoying his time with you so much. 

Yoongi stared at Jungkook for a little while before he went for his second shot. Jungkook tried to pour it for him, but Yoongi shooed him away. He downed the shot easily before rising to his feet.

“Follow me,” Yoongi said as he started putting his coat back on. Jungkook was confused, but quickly rose to his feet and put on his coat as well. 

“We’ll be standing just right outside, could you call us in when our food is ready?” Yoongi asked the ajumma who was working hard behind the grill.

“Did you get that?” she called out to the younger woman who was sitting behind her scrolling on her phone. She had been the one who served them their drinks. Jungkook assumed she might be the older woman’s daughter. They had the same face, time being the only differential. The young lady nodded and with that, Yoongi pulled Jungkook out of the tent into the cold and over to a bench that sat in front of a big art sculpture that wasn’t too far from them.

Yoongi sighed, a foggy puff of air slipping past his lips, proving just how cold it was to anyone standing outside in this unfortunate weather. Jungkook was about to ask what was going on when Yoongi started rummaging around in his pockets, pulling out a box in one hand and something shiny in the other. It took him a second to realize it was a box of cigarettes and a bright purple lighter. 

Yoongi smiled as he held up the lighter. “My daughter’s name is Bora. I got this color because of her, but funnily enough, I don’t really use it much anymore,” he laughed.

It took Jungkook a second to realize that he had never really considered that the doctor… had a life? He felt guilty for not asking Yoongi about himself, but of course the couples therapist has a whole life and a daughter. Jungkook also imagined he was married as well. Oddly enough, Yoongi had started to take on the role of a big brother in Jungkook’s eyes, but it still shocked him a little. Sometimes he seemed years ahead of him in life experience, but other times he really didn’t feel any different in age. Yoongi didn’t even look that much older than Jungkook was, making it harder to remember there was a bit of an age gap— seven years to be exact. 

As Jungkook was lost in thought, he completely missed when Yoongi opened the box, took out a cigarette, put it between his lips, and handed the box over to Jungkook.

“Only if you want to,” Yoongi mentioned, as he tried his best to light it. It took a couple of tries, but eventually the end managed to catch.

Jungkook didn’t really think too much about it as he took one before handing the box back over to Yoongi and exchanging it for the lighter.

He didn’t really smoke, at least not anymore. College Jungkook, however, was a very different Jungkook. It wouldn’t have been an unusual sight to walk into his apartment and see him on the balcony with his feet kicked up and a cigarette between his lips, strumming along on his guitar to his favorite songs as he procrastinated doing homework. He never stopped for any reason in particular, it was just one of those habits that never stuck, and especially once he started his new life as a married man, he never really went back to it.

That didn’t stop him this time, though. Jungkook took the bright purple lighter and easily lit the cigarette. He took a long inhale before steadily blowing out the smoke, all while Yoongi observed him closely. Jungkook wasn’t prepared to hear the man chuckle beside him. 

“Guess you weren’t lying then…,” he giggled to himself, taking another puff. 

“You thought I was?” Jungkook asked, a little confused why he would think that.

Yoongi just shrugged, not really having an answer. 

“Anyway, I brought you out here to talk about how you’re doing. We’re not in my office anymore, so be as unfiltered as you’d like. Tell me anything you’re comfortable with sharing— about Yuri, the affair, yourself…” Yoongi looked over at him.

The proposition made Jungkook’s eyes glisten and he hoped Yoongi would just think it was because of the cold. He quickly took another hit of the cigarette. Silence passed for a while, just the sounds of a few passersby and the wind steadily blowing as it made the night even colder.

“I don’t feel good,” Jungkook laid out plainly, not really having the energy to put up a front for the doctor and pretend things were fine. They weren’t— he needed help, he knew that. “I don’t really feel anything anymore,” Jungkook added a little more quietly.

“Anything?” Yoongi repeated, and Jungkook nodded.

“Every day is a fucking nightmare. It hurts just to get out of bed each day and go to work. It hurts to see Yuri. Our marriage is getting worse every single day and I still don’t feel guilty about what I did to her— what I keep doing to her for some reason. The only time I feel anything anymore is when I’m with Y/n…” His eyes were watering so much now, it was hard to pretend it was still just the cold.

“Is Y/n your coworker?” Yoongi asked, and Jungkook nodded once again. “What does she make you feel?”

Jungkook shrugged. “It just feels good when we’re together. For a moment, I feel something again. For a second, my life isn’t shit and my problems disappear. Maybe that’s why I keep going back to her for more.”

Yoongi wanted to comment on that, but ultimately chose to stay quiet. He didn’t want to label anything prematurely, but as a couples therapist and a married man, what Jungkook described didn’t sound unfamiliar. 

“But even when I do, I still treat her like shit, just like I do with Yuri. I can’t do anything right,” Jungkook laughed as he wiped his eyes and took another puff from his cigarette.

“And what makes you say that?” Yoongi inquired further.

“I keep giving her more work when we’re already really busy as it is. We argue pretty much every time we’re alone together. She doesn’t deserve it. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” Jungkook was crying just thinking about how you were probably still at the office working because of him.

“I just feel so hopeless every day, every fucking day and I just want it to end.” Jungkook sobbed, using his coat sleeve to wipe his eyes.

“Before, I held onto this glimmer of hope that one day I’d get my shit together and finally understand how to make Yuri happy, how to love her, how to at least get her to a place where she’d try and work things out with me.” Just an attempt, that was all he needed. “But now I feel like I fucked things up beyond repair, I’ve fucked everything up so badly— nothing will ever get better and I’m just so tired.”

Yoongi didn’t want to interrupt but this was beyond heartbreaking to listen to and watch as the tears started streaming down his cheeks.

“And I’m so ashamed— Y/n— I think I’m just running off of what she gives me at this point, it’s the only time anything feels like something anymore— I want things to be ok, but I just keep messing everything up— I’m so tired, I feel like giving up at this point.” It was vague, but Yoongi was paying close attention to his wording and his heart sank hearing the words ‘give up.’ He honestly thought the worst.

“It’s just gray no matter where I look and I don’t know how much longer I can go on like this, hyung. I just want it to end.” Jungkook sighed.

It might have been a slip of the tongue, maybe it was the alcohol flowing through his system, but the endearing honorific, one Jungkook didn’t seem to notice in the moment, was easily heard by Yoongi.

At this, Yoongi finally had to say something. “Jungkook, I'm really, really worried about you. I know I’m a couples therapist so this isn’t exactly my specialty, but the way you speak about your depression is concerning. The sentiments you’re describing are treading into dangerous territories that I’m honestly a little worried about leaving you alone.” The label wasn’t really a surprise. Jungkook had figured he’d veered into depression land a long time ago.

“Do you think you can hold out till the New Year’s when you’ll be able to meet Dr. Kim?” Yoongi asked seriously. 

Jungkook nodded, wanting to believe he could. He hated to say he wasn’t confident in his affirmation.

“Things were bad before, but it was very recently where I don’t know… like I didn’t feel good for years if I’m being honest, but it I felt like I was on a hill and then all of a sudden I reached a cliff. I’m trying hard to climb out, or at least find the other side, but it just keeps getting lower and lower and now I’m stuck— the end’s nowhere in sight and—” Jungkook could ramble for hours about this. It truly felt there would be no end to this madness. He was tired, tired of going on and on and on with the same bullshit…

He was making people suffer, his wife, his employees, his friends, you, the list goes on. 

“I know things might feel hopeless now, but trust when I say there is an end somewhere. Just hang in there a little longer, Jungkook,” this conversation had grown very serious. They both were dancing around the actual topic at hand, but they certainly knew what was being discussed. 

They both sat in silence for a little while, letting it speak louder than words could in the moment, steadily smoking away their woes. Jungkook’s soft cries gradually grew quieter.

“Jungkook… I don’t really know the type of people you have in your life, but like I mentioned the last time you were at the office, I really recommend leaning on whatever support system you have. Friends, family, and I want you to know I’ll always be here if you need someone to rant to. If things ever feel like they’re getting too much, you can always call or stop by the office with a little heads up. You’re not alone and I don’t want you to feel that way.” Yoongi added after a particularly long puff from his cigarette.

The sentiment was nice and even though Jungkook was a mess right now, he still appreciated it. It was enough that for a moment it pushed away that terrible thought of him not being worthy of help anymore— for a second he wanted to believe somehow everything would work out as it should. It’ll be a tough battle and if worse comes to worse, at least maybe Yoongi will be there to lean on.

“Thank you…” Jungkook’s voice was soft as he spoke.

It was only a moment though, and bringing up all these emotions he tried his best to keep at bay made his head feel like a mess. It was so much, too much, and he really was so tired at this point. His eyes grew watery all over again, but his cheeks burned as he realized they were in fact in public. He could only imagine what the people passing by would think of him…

“But it still hurts, it hurts so much.” Jungkook was trying his hardest to keep the tears at bay. Yoongi was probably tired of all the crying, but they just kept rolling down his cheeks. “I don’t want to li—”

“Boys!” A sudden voice called out.

Yoongi and Jungkook looked back over to the tent and saw the lady who was sitting on the stool earlier had her head poking out. 

“Your food’s ready!” She added once she saw that she got their attention. Yoongi flashed her a quick thumbs up and she sent one back before heading inside. 

“What were you saying?” Yoongi tried to steer things back on topic, but Jungkook shook his head.

“Doesn’t matter—” He said, still wiping the tears off his face. “I haven’t eaten all day, I’m starving.” He was quick at getting up and heading over to the trash can to put out his cigarette and throw it away.

Yoongi wanted to stop him, but just decided they could discuss things a little more as they ate. Maybe things would go better with some food in their systems, especially for Jungkook. 

Yoongi caught up to him. “By the way, I don’t mind you calling me hyung.” He mentioned with a smile. Suddenly Jungkook looked even more embarrassed. 

“You said it earlier and I didn’t mind. I’m not your therapist anymore, no need to keep the formalities. Making things casual seems like the way to go.” He smiled.

“I’m sorry about earlier, I—” But Yoongi shushed him.

“No apologies, it’s fine. Let me hear you say it~” He slightly teased. 

Jungkook’s cheeks flushed. “Hyung? Yoongi hyung?” Jungkook tested how it sounded and they both chuckled.

“Sounds right to me. Now let’s go eat.” They hurriedly rushed back inside to the warmth and were greeted with the mouthwatering sight of the dumplings sitting on their table. Yoongi ordered two more bottles of soju, and once they got their coats off they immediately grabbed their chopsticks and started to dig in.

The place was fantastic— Yoongi was one hundred percent right and Jungkook wished this place would stay here so he could visit more often. He made sure to tell Yoongi hyung that when the place was back in this area to let him know so they could eat here again together. 

Now things were in much better spirits considering the difficult conversation they just had outside. Jungkook even asked for more food after he managed to finish so quickly. Nonetheless, something Yoongi tried not to bring up at first was how awfully fast Jungkook was drinking. He easily downed shot after shot, and the bottles quickly came and went over at his side of the table.

“Are you trying to get drunk or something?” Yoongi eventually asked. Even he had lost count of what bottle he was on. Yoongi was still on his third. He had made the decision to just leave his car and take a taxi to work or something in the morning once Jungkook agreed to meet up, but he still wasn’t trying to get hammered. He had a seven-month-old at home he still needed to take care of when he got back. Buzzed, maybe even a little tipsy was the most he was going for tonight. Jungkook though seemed to have different plans.

“I’m fine…” Jungkook sighed as he downed another shot. 

Yoongi didn’t want to refute it, this was their first time drinking together, so it’s not like they knew each other’s limits. But he should have trusted the very fact he had eyes and knew that he was drinking way beyond just getting buzzed or even tipsy. 

Jungkook could hardly keep his eyes open by the time they were leaving. Yoongi had to be the one to put his coat on, and he practically had to carry him outside back over to the bench they were sitting at earlier. It was also Yoongi who texted Dae-Jung to come pick him up after Jungkook mumbled something about texting him when he asked if he had any plans on getting home.  

Dae-Jung was here not too long after, but by then Jungkook was pretty much passed out on the bench. He seemed to notice Jungkook was incapacitated and came jogging out of the car over to the two of them. He didn’t look much older than Jungkook— he had sharp eyes and a short haircut that Yoongi thought only added more to the “professional image” of an employee to the CEO’s son. He was also wearing a suit with a white turtleneck underneath.

“What happened?” Dae-Jung asked concerningly.  

“He had way too many. I should have stopped him, I’m sorry.” Yoongi said remorsefully.

“You’re fine… this was his choice and unfortunately this happens too many times these days. Thank you so much for looking after him.” Dae-Jung sighed before heading over to pick Jungkook up. 

Yoongi was just going to bid them both farewell, but Jungkook must have woken up a little because as they passed by, Jungkook grabbed onto Yoongi’s sleeve. 

“We— we should take him home.” Jungkook slurred lazily to Dae-Jung as he weakly pointed at Yoongi. Yoongi and Dae-Jung both looked at each other before back at Jungkook.

“You really don’t—”

“I don’t mind, unless you planned on driving back.” Dae-Jung huffed, as he repositioned Jungkook on his shoulder so he wouldn’t fall over.  

Yoongi shook his head.

“Hop in then.” And that’s how Yoongi ended up riding home with them. Jungkook passed out again as soon as they managed to get him in the car. Jungkook’s head rested against the window and his light snores were more than amusing in Yoongi’s buzzed state. 

Luckily, Yoongi didn’t live too far away, and it felt like in no time they were pulling up right outside Yoongi’s apartment building. 

Yoongi thanked Dae-Jung and said goodbye to Jungkook even though he was completely gone. 

Dae-Jung took charge from that point forward. Jungkook and Yuri lived a little further away, fortunately it was late and there wasn’t much traffic, so they managed to make it within thirty minutes. Dae-Jung helped Jungkook out of the car as they stumbled their way up to the apartment. With his aid, Jungkook was able to take off his coat and suit jacket, before they stumbled toward the other bedroom— Jungkook always preferred staying there when he was this drunk.

Yuri hadn’t been there to urge him to stay in their own room anyway. He doubted she would have.

Jungkook was out once again, sleeping far past his alarm, and unsurprisingly he was late to work the next day. He was a mess, his head hurt with every move he made, and all he could think about was how much of a disappointment he turned out to be. He’d messed up everything in his life, and there was no way out at this point. 

Every day was a waking nightmare, and he just wanted it to end.

•────•──────────•────•

You both were normally so careful when it came to sneaking off to the storage room. You would always wait a few minutes in between before heading inside, and you even had to do the special knock in order to verify it was each other. This time though, you were in a rush. 

Jungkook wasn’t too far ahead of you as you walked swiftly behind him, making sure to keep enough distance between you both, but he wanted you to be quick. With how fast he was moving, you could hardly keep up by the time he was turning the corner to the hallway where the storage room was. You waited a few seconds, then as inconspicuously as you could, you made your way down the same hallway. You didn’t even manage to get the full knock in when the door swung open, and you felt a hand grab your wrist to hastily pull you inside.

Before you even realized, your back was suddenly up against the wall and you were staring right into Jungkook’s eyes. He was close, his hands were right by your sides against the wall. You watched his eyes drift down and scan over your form before they returned to meet your own once again. Even in the dark, his pained expression was obvious.

Jungkook couldn’t stand another moment apart from you so he moved his hands to rest on your waist as he pulled you close to finally meet your lips. You could instantly taste the beer on his tongue as things quickly grew more intense. 

That was new. Is that what this was?

You really had no idea how things had moved so fast. You were leading a meeting only a few minutes prior; a rare one Jungkook needed to attend. He’d been making eyes at you as he sat at the head of the table, and while a part of you couldn’t lie it made you a little hot, this was a meeting; a meeting with a lot of other people around. Maybe the beer was the missing piece to this puzzle, it explained why he was so shamelessly eyeing you in front of everyone. It’s a bit strange though— it was only the afternoon, why was he drinking that early?

As soon as the meeting finished, Jungkook stayed behind and just as you were picking up your laptop to leave, Jungkook stopped you in your tracks. 

“Wait!” His bright, round eyes stared up at you, pleading almost with his gaze.

You quickly looked around. It’s not like this meeting room really had walls; the ones that faced the office were made up of thick panes of glass organized in a horizontally striped pattern, alternating between clear and frosted glass. The parts that were frosted were larger, but anyone who looked hard enough in between could see you both. You had no idea what he wanted, but you were a little worried.

“Yes?” You clutched your laptop tight to your chest.

Jungkook’s eyes trailed down his lap before he looked back up at you. “Would you have time to go to the storage room quickly?” His voice was soft, but he seemed desperate.

You looked at him a little confused. Usually there would be some type of heads up. “Right now?” 

“It’s ummm… it’s an emergency…” His eyes glanced down again before looking back at you. 

And that’s how you learned Jungkook should be forced to wear sunglasses all the time because why, why did all it take was him looking at you like that to make you so easily agree? You thought you were stronger than that, but apparently you were a lot easier than you wanted to admit since that was all you needed to give into his pleas. Your legs practically acted all on their own as you speedily ran back to your office to put your laptop back before you somehow caught up to Jungkook making his way to the storage room.

In short, that’s how you ended up here.  

His hands eagerly raked up your sides, tugging at your blouse and skirt as they sensually traversed along the fabric. You wrapped your arms around his neck as he practically stuffed his tongue down your throat before you could even process the situation you were in. His kisses were full of more and more desperation and wanting each time his lips met your own. You were never going to get used to how passionately he’d kiss you. It hastily took your breath away, and the heat you felt from the meeting earlier exploded into an even greater fury the longer you were in his arms.

Jungkook suddenly hiked your leg up to his waist, and at this angle you could feel the very reason why he was moving so fast. 

“Wh-what’s got you so worked up?” You moaned lightly, your body on fire from the tingles that surged through you. 

“You.” Jungkook hurried out in between kisses. “Your existence,” a callback to a running problem in your relationship, this time spun a little more sweetly. The stark answer made your cheeks burn in a way you weren’t prepared for. You tried to brush it off with a smile. 

“I’m serious… something’s up with you today.” Something was clearly up— Jungkook’s kisses trailed off your cheek and down your neck where he lightly sucked across your skin. You definitely knew he wasn’t being careful about not leaving any marks.

Jungkook wasn’t really in a talking mood, much preferring to enjoy your whines as his mouth worked on your neck and eager his hips met your own. You always made such pretty sounds. Then when your hands moved to thread in his hair, now he really wasn’t in a talking mood. He couldn’t help but think this wasn’t going fast enough.

“Jungkook?” You questioned the longer the silence went on, gripping his hair tight to get his attention, making him moan into your skin.

Oh.

“Your meeting was hot.” He groaned just thinking back to it, adding to the fact that he really liked it when you played with his hair.

You laughed at that. “And what about spreadsheets, pie charts, and Excel made you this hot and bothered?” It was a funny thought. You were somewhat joking, but you weren’t one hundred percent sure what he was into. Maybe that was actually his thing. 

You weren’t expecting the soft, but noticeable bite on the nape of your neck. It didn’t hurt, and you could practically feel his smile across your skin. You yelped slightly at the sensation.

“It’s not that—” Jungkook ground into you a little harder and you could easily feel him right where you wanted. “You feel that? This is your fault.” Jungkook’s voice was a little shaky and his words slurred together from how much he was pushing into you.

You couldn’t stop the moan falling from your lips at his words. This was new. Jungkook was normally so shy, he never was this blunt and you weren’t prepared at all for this new side. What was going on?

It was probably the beer. That was the only explanation. 

“I kept— kept thinking about how much I wanted to fuck you on the meeting table.” Jungkook groaned into your skin. It was a dirty thought, one that made his cheeks burn because he was in public and he was supposed to be focusing on your words. He could hardly pay attention as his mind bounced back and forth between admiring your presentation skills to thinking about what it’d be like to take you right there on the table in front of everyone.

At this point, you feared he was drunk. This was completely unlike him.

You tried to ignore how on fire your cheeks were. “Does that mean you didn’t pay attention to anything I said?”

“If I say yes will you do the whole thing again, just the two of us?” He was normally never this bold. He was already making work of getting your shirt loose, managing to get a few buttons undone with his shaky hands, enough to see your black bra come into view. Jungkook couldn’t take his eyes off you and wished so much he could see you a little better. He kissed your neck and steadily made his way down your chest.

“Oh— wha—” He could probably sense you were about to say something, so instead of letting you continue the banter, he moved back up to kiss you.

It was brief but enough to quickly take your breath away before he pulled away and buried himself in your shoulder.

“Y/n— I don’t, fuck, I don’t think I can wait— could you take me now?” Jungkook would never normally ask this. Yuri would be so disappointed if she knew he did. He always liked to take care of you in some shape or form before he did anything to you, but today… today…

And you could feel his impatience. No wonder he called it an emergency in the meeting room. And if that wasn’t enough, clearly something must be in the air today because Jungkook was showing you a completely new side to him.

“I’m really sorry— I can try and do more if you need it, I just—”

“Jungkook, please just fuck me.” This little talk was honestly all you needed to get going.

You didn’t need to tell him twice. Jungkook was already kissing you once again as he tried his best to guide you both to the table. It took a bit of work, Jungkook was more than distracted, but eventually he could feel the plastic surface behind you. He wasted no time flipping you over so your hands were planted on the table and your ass was pressed right where he needed you. 

“I’ll try and make this quick.” But that wouldn’t be too much of a challenge. He needed you and today things were even worse than usual. 

You nodded as you heard the swift sounds of his belt coming undone. He normally was uncoordinated, the need always clouding his senses making even the simplest tasks seem impossible, but today it was even worse. The alcohol surely didn’t help in his struggle.

You could hear him growing frustrated as he wrangled with his belt while lightly grinding into you. He was subtle, but his cute whines were still evident.

“Cmon, please, please, please—” He cried. His eyes were a little watery. Yes, it was this serious for him, he was so close to feeling you, but once again the hurdle of the belt and pants got in the way.

Eventually, things were finally going his way. The belt came undone, his pants unzipped, and finally he was free to feel you. Jungkook was on you in a haste, his hands working fast at pulling up your skirt— even in the dark the view nearly made him lose it; from your thigh highs coming up your legs to your black panties, and the position you were in… Fuck, the arch in your back made you look so ready for him. He was so weak.  

Jungkook quickly tangled himself around you. While one hand was on your waist to keep you steady, his other hand was in your panties before you knew it; his fingers were eagerly running through your slit.

“Shit!” You gasped, already failing at keeping yourself quiet.

Jungkook was more than surprised to find you were already wet.

“Fuck—” He groaned, as he buried his head in your shoulder, growing more desperate by the second, already imagining what it would be like to be inside you. 

“I’ll be quick— I’m sorry…” He sighed as he started lining up behind you, rubbing himself along the dampness of your panties. Only then did he remember something he had completely forgotten till now. 

“Jungkook, please—”

His eyes quickly grew teary realizing how bad this was. “Wait— wait, I don’t have a condom.” He quietly cried. 

This got you to pause. “Wait, what?”

“I forgot to buy more…” He didn’t have any left whatsoever. Not even a brief, awkward pause to run back to his office would save him. The last time you were together was when you both made it through the last of the box he bought a few weeks ago. Jungkook had made the note to get more after work, but Yuri had texted him that day saying she was home and he completely forgot about anything else.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Jungkook continued to lightly rub his achy cock along the damp fabric between your thighs. You were so wet. 

Shit.

He wasn’t thinking straight at all. You both really should be careful. He thought you two would never be in a situation like this again after he bought condoms, but he wasn’t used to buying them regularly; it wasn’t surprising how easily it slipped his mind. The smart thing to do in this situation would be handling both your needs in some other fashion than being inside you. There were a million ways to get off, it wasn’t the end of the world, but—

“Are you still—”

“Yes! We don’t need one if you’re fine with that.” You hurried out, not even needing him to finish the question. It was disappointing how that confirmation was all that he needed to keep going. No more questions, talking, banter, anything, he just had to feel you. 

Jungkook swiftly moved your panties to the side and shakily rubbed his length across your soaked folds. A choked moan fell from his lips at the sensation. He couldn’t take it anymore, the need grew too much to even attempt to tease you further. He hurriedly lined himself up and finally pushed his cock inside you. Jungkook was in such a rush, he was completely unprepared to be reminded how good you felt bare like this.

“Oh fu—” A few tears slipped from his eyes as he basked in your warmth, amazed at how tightly you were wrapped around him.

“Jungkook, oh my g—” You whined as his hand snaked back down into your panties and lightly started rubbing circles around your bud. He wanted to treat you well still, the guilt he felt rushing things was impossible to ignore. 

Jungkook nearly cried, savoring the way you tightened around him. It was grueling to try and keep still. He wanted to go slow for both your sakes, but mainly for you so you’d have that opportunity to get adjusted; he would hate to hurt you due to his own selfish desires.

“Please, Jungkook!” You cried, clamping hard onto the table. Tears had even started to prick your eyes.

“You think you can take me?” He groaned, even though you were practically squeezing him to give you more.

“What about ‘Jungkook, please fuck me’ is so hard to understand?” Your bratty tone was the last straw in snapping his reserve. He roughly pulled out and thrusted back into you, making you both moan out at the sensation. He didn’t mean to be so forceful, but—

“Quiet,” a simple one-word command that Jungkook practically growled into your ear. “You always talk too much.” He sighed as he began his steady pace of rocking into you, never once moving his hand away from your clit.

You nearly screamed at the sensation and quickly had to remind yourself that you were in a storage room at your job, and people weren’t that far away. You had to control yourself, but fucking Jungkook…

Instead of saying anything more, you obeyed like he wanted. It wasn’t like you necessarily wanted to, but as he started increasing his pace, you knew anything that would come out of your mouth at that point would only get you in trouble. 

It was almost mind-boggling that this was the same man you’ve argued, consoled, and talked with over the last month. What was going on?

You kept quiet trying your best to keep yourself under control as he pounded into you from the back. One hand on your waist, pulling you back to meet his hips, the other working tirelessly on bringing you closer and closer to the end. It felt good— more than good, but you didn’t want to admit that. You honestly hated thinking about how good the sex was with him sometimes.

It was only temporary, this would end someday, hopefully soon. This spelled disaster before anything had even happened yet, but deep down, you knew this path would only get more complicated the longer you both kept this going. 

This was bad news, this was bad news, this was bad new— But your warnings were being drowned out by the surge of pleasure running through your body by his hand and his cock that always managed to fill you so well.

Suddenly his pace slightly faltered and his grip on your waist grew tighter. “C-Close—” He fumbled out, trying to steady himself once more.

He knew going into this it wouldn’t last long. That meeting had worked him up in ways that he wasn’t prepared for, he couldn’t even pretend he was better than this. His daydreams were more vivid than anything he used to experience. They were memories. They were dangerous, powerful memories that he couldn’t run from even with his employees all around him. It was pathetic.

Now that he had you to himself, he couldn’t even fake composure. The scene was phenomenal, your skirt bunched up around your waist, your panties clumsily pushed to the side, your thigh-highs he wondered if were getting stained with your juices, and the way your ass would jiggle with each thrust he made. Jungkook could have cum just from his thoughts alone. You felt so fucking good around him, he couldn’t keep it together no matter how slow he tried to move. It was too much, and it wasn’t too long after that he felt himself starting to speed towards his release.

You both were prepared for things to end soon as they always do, but for the first time in the few weeks you both have been sneaking away to the meeting room, you heard footsteps. 

These weren’t the typical footsteps that you both would hear whenever someone would pass by this pretty destitute hallway, no, these footsteps were loud. Instead of just fading as they walked off, they only got louder and louder with each second that passed letting you both know that they simply weren’t going along through the outside hallway, they were getting closer. 

You both instantly froze the longer you realized what that meant. The possibilities quickly ran through your heads. Best case scenario, this was someone who simply took a wrong turn and would be going back pretty soon after they realized that the only thing down here was a storage room. Worst case scenario, the only other people who have access to the room— it was a janitor innocently coming over to get more supplies. 

There wouldn’t be enough time to try and cover yourselves to pretend like nothing perverse had been happening only moments prior. It would simply be the end and the beginning to the hell that would await you. 

Luckily, your question was answered before they even made it to the door and your mind wandered too far. It wasn’t one, but definitely multiple people who were laughing and joking with each other as they got closer.

“What’s down here, hyung?” A younger voice filled the hallway quite clearly. 

“I’ve never been down this hallway before.” Another voice said. 

They were newbies— new people who joined the office and were receiving an in-depth tour of the building by their senior. There should be no reason to panic anymore besides the minor inconvenience, but things were never that simple.

The minute Jungkook heard voices, his first instinct was to pull you close so you were flush against his chest. His hand went over your mouth to keep you quiet, shushing you right in your ear while he was still buried deep inside you. The position, maybe it was the situation, you weren’t exactly sure yourself, but apparently Jungkook hit a button you had that you didn’t know existed.

As the group grew closer you were trying your best to keep calm, but you found it extremely—

“Oh—” Jungkook quickly had to bury himself in your shoulder. You were tightening around him so much, so fucking much. 

“Ok, so what’s down here?” Another person in the group said. You were hardly paying attention anymore, but they were standing right outside the door. 

They were right outside, but no matter what, you just wouldn’t relax around him. Jungkook tried his best to control himself and take steady, deep breaths just until the group left. But they weren’t moving, for whatever reason, this little hallway they found was the best place to be a great hang out spot and get into some random conversation about who knows what. 

“Fuck…” Jungkook cried out as quietly as he could into your shoulder. He wasn’t strong enough at all to do this. You were squeezing him so much, and he had already been close, trying to keep still was—

His hips almost had a mind of their own as they steadily began to pump into your sopping heat. He tried his best to keep his movements small, not to make too much noise, but when he moved that only made it so much worse—

“Sto— please— Y/n!” He was forcing himself to whisper, but it almost felt like he was yelling in the moment. He had to keep calm, but you were making this difficult. Why was this happening?! And somehow, as if things couldn’t get any worse… None of you were listening to what the group outside were saying, not until the point where one distinct voice questioned— “Ok, so the only thing down here pretty much is this storage room?” 

“What do you think is in there?” Someone else said.

“I don’t know. I’ve never been in there before, but I can’t imagine it’s anything that interesting.”

“Let’s seem,” it was the one who sounded a little younger— curious, oh he was so fucking curious because who suggests that? But the distinct sound of the doorknob turning only made Jungkook that much more desperate, his thrusts growing far too hurried for someone who was trying to keep quiet.

Click- click- click— no matter what way they turned, the door wouldn’t open, but the adrenaline you both were running on was unlike anything else.

“Huh… guess it’s locked.”

“Yeah, look, you need to use your badge to get access.”

“We don’t have access?”

It sounded like someone tried, the familiar game-like failure buzz sounded and the sounds of disappointed sighs filled the hallway. 

But you both heard it, and it was a sound of relief as Jungkook felt like he was two seconds away from derailing. They had to leave soon— they had to leave soon— please—

“Anyway, time to move on to the other parts of the tour, no reason to get stuck here.” Someone sounded, probably the senior who was guiding everyone around. Then, the sounds of footsteps steadily grew quieter and quieter. 

Your muffled moans, as Jungkook instantly hurried his pace, grew louder and more desperate right along with Jungkook as his hand went faster and faster. You were so tight…

Their footsteps were still going down the hallway when Jungkook couldn’t stop himself anymore from spilling into your warmth. A muffled cry went into your shoulder as he hastily pumped you full of his cum. It felt like this giant wave crashed over him, it knocked him down and he couldn’t even think about getting back up. He was shaking, hushed cries and curses filling the room, because what the fuck just happened? 

But Jungkook was not in the mood to question it now. In his post-bliss haze, all he could focus on was getting you over the edge as well. Jungkook didn’t waste another second and picked his pace up once again on your clit. 

“Want to see you cum for me…” He lazily whispered in your ear, and all the while his hand was still over your mouth, so all you could respond with was your muffled cries into his hand. You really do talk too much sometimes. 

You had no idea where this was coming from, and your body didn’t either. You had tears in your eyes at how good he felt, and Jungkook could feel them running down onto his hand. 

It didn’t take much until that knot finally snapped and you finished hard around him. You tightened so much around his spent length that as Jungkook was fighting the overstimulation, somehow you were able to easily have him cumming into you again while he worked you both through it like the pathetic man he was.

It was intense, and out of the month this affair had been happening, you hadn't experienced anything like this. You don’t think you ever have. 

You both were rendered messes as slowly but surely you started to come back down. Jungkook nearly collapsed onto you. Your knees felt weak, but you could only imagine what he was feeling having cum so fast right after his first orgasm. 

For a little while, you just listened to your labored breaths. It was like the disastrous calm after a storm. The sun was out, but all that did was highlight the devastating damage left in its wake.

Jungkook was slouched over you, and as time passed your breathing grew more in sync. You honestly didn’t want to move. Something about this moment made your heart hammer painfully in your chest; you figured it was the adrenaline. But eventually, Jungkook found the strength to pull away from you and you hated how you already missed his warmth. To distract yourself, you made quick work at trying to get yourself as presentable as you could again— pulling your skirt down, buttoning up your blouse, smoothing down your hair, and you’d touch up your makeup a little later. 

Jungkook barely managed to get his pants back up and was leaning against the wall, looking more spaced out than ever. In the silence, it made you think about something that you both had unintentionally avoided over the last month. 

“Do you think it might be a good idea to not keep doing this at our job…?” You laughed weakly. “I know they couldn’t get in, but what if that was a janitor.” 

Jungkook opened his eyes and looked at you.

Oddly enough, this affair had never left the office besides that one time you gave him a handjob before a meeting at another company. It was never something you both discussed, it just kinda happened this way. There was this unspoken line that for some reason none of you decided to cross since this started— inviting each other home.

Jungkook might have had his own reasons, but at least for you the office made it less real. Just like the very day you found yourself on Jungkook’s desk, it was almost like there was this haze in the air that made the reality of what you were doing easier to bear. At home— that felt personal— too personal for something that needed to have ended weeks ago, something that should have never started in the first place. Things just seemed easier here, risky yes, but convenient and made it a lot less difficult to convince yourself that you weren’t having an affair with a married man. 

But again, it was risky, and you were bound to get caught one day if this kept going. Maybe you hoped that the last time would really be the last, no need to bring him over, but for some reason you just couldn’t see that happening anymore. It felt more likely one day you both were going to get caught with your pants down by the janitor than you were to end things right now. 

That brush with the possibility, while exhilarating, you knew it was a warning sign from the universe that the next time you both might not be so lucky. 

“You’re probably right…” He sighed. 

“Your place probably isn’t a good idea considering… well, you know… it’s just me at my apartment, no roommates whatsoever, so we could finally have some privacy.” You suggested.

Jungkook slowly nodded, his silence lingered for a while. 

“Unless maybe you’re not comfortab—” 

“No, no, sorry. Your place is fine. It’s probably best to continue things from there then. Next time I guess we’ll meet there.” Jungkook rushed out, but you could tell something was a little off about him. He normally got quiet after things were done, but this was just unlike him.

“Alright, my place it is then.” You sighed. It was weird, you literally just had some of the best sex you ever had, yet Jungkook’s low mood was so easily sucking the new found energy right out of you. 

Silence passed for a little while before you couldn’t take it any longer. “Are you doing ok? I could practically taste the alcohol you drank earlier. Did you go somewhere? Everything alright?” You finally asked, more than a little concerned.

Your eyes bared into him as you waited for his answer. 

Jungkook weakly smiled into the darkness. “Just trying to make it through the day.” 

His answer did nothing but make you more worried, it just confirmed your worst fears. It’s not like he went maybe to some fancy brunch with friends, he was simply day drinking for no other reason than to drown out whatever sorrows he was dealing with.

“Are you drunk, you seem a little…” Off, he’s seemed off all day and that says something, because everything about him was off on a daily basis— today strayed even further from the ordinary.

“Not drunk… just maybe buzzed… no— just a little more than that. I think tipsy, feeling a little…” His voice trailed off as he shook his hand, “Not all there, but not completely gone.”

His answer didn’t surprise you there.

“Maybe you should stay here or head back to your office for a little while and sober up.” You suggested, trying your best to help out. It wasn’t like he was drunk drunk, but it was definitely obvious there was something off about him— you knew that before you had your tongue in his mouth. You worried someone else might realize.

Jungkook sighed. “You’re right… things just feel easier like this…” 

You walked a little closer, beckoning him to continue. 

“It’s just getting harder and harder to make it through… I’m trying, but I’m just so weak. I wish I was stronger.” Jungkook tried to laugh, but his eyes were watery. He was glad you couldn’t see.

But even in the darkness, he noticed your concerned eyes staring up at him. Suddenly you were wrapping your arms around his frame. It wasn’t something he expected as your warmth embraced him in a whole new way, his eyes were wide and for a second the haze of the alcohol dissipated.

“You are strong… You managed to get out of your cozy bed today and brave going through this awful fucking weather to get to work.” You were trying to be funny, and it made you happy hearing Jungkook chuckle. “I’m serious though, just getting out of bed is worth celebrating— don’t say you’re weak because it’ll only make it more true the more you say it.” You said while gently rubbing his back.

Jungkook didn’t say anything for a while, he was just enjoying the feeling of you this close a little too much. “Thank you.” He smiled. He couldn’t say he believed that entirely yet, but it still felt nice hearing someone like you say that. 

“No problem… and sorry—” You pulled back and it took everything in Jungkook not to try and go for another. “You just looked like you needed a hug.”

It probably only took away a hair off of the mountain that was all his problems, but still it helped. “Thank you, really.”

You smiled at him and Jungkook couldn’t stop the weird way his heart twisted in his chest as he stared at you.

“Anyway, I have a Christmas tree I need to go decorate.” You sighed, stretching your tired limbs.  

Jungkook looked at you curiously.

“Apparently, all the teams on the floor are competing this year on who can decorate the best Christmas tree. Director Son is really passionate about it and beating the other teams, so we’re having an unofficial meeting to start working on it.” 

As you spoke, Jungkook’s eyes widened as he remembered that the holidays were approaching fast, tomorrow was the first already. At this, Jungkook’s face fell.

“What, you think it’s stupid?” You questioned and Jungkook quickly shook his head.

“It’s not that—”

“Maybe the fact we aren’t working, because—”

“No… you guys are fine. December is just busy for me, and I don’t know— this year I’m not really too excited.” He sighed. He normally never was, but he knew exactly why this year felt so off. December meant he would have to face his and Yuri’s family again, and as if he couldn’t get any more pathetic, he needed to face them with the knowledge he was cheating on his wife. The “cheery” holiday spirit was just the cherry on top to bring him down. While everyone else was going to be out celebrating, he would be wallowing in his self misery, reflecting and thinking back to what a horrible year this turned out to be. 

“Well, if you want to, you could always join our team in the competition if you need a little holiday cheer.” You were both joking and being incredibly serious. It was evident he wasn’t lying, and you were honestly worried about him. Maybe a little fun is what he needed.

Jungkook laughed. “I’ll think about it.” He wouldn’t, he wasn’t in the mood at all— he’d just bring everyone down with him.

“I hope so.”

You stretched again. “Anyway, were you heading out?” You questioned when he still hadn’t moved. 

“Yeah, I think I’ll head back to the office like you suggested,” he couldn’t deny and say he wasn’t going to try and go for another beer. He recently bought a new pack to restock his fridge, but that was how he ended up tipsy today. He hoped he would get a grip and avoid it though, to actually heed your advice. He had work to do later. “But you can leave first and head out to get tangled in tinsel.”

You both laughed. “No, that’s not me, but I definitely know a few coworkers who I might need to detangle— Taehyung will somehow goof his way into getting wrapped up in decorations, then he’ll end up asking me to unravel him.” You laughed at the thought because, honestly, that would be something that he would do.

You didn’t notice Jungkook slightly frown at the mention of his name.

“Anyway, thank you for being here— sorry for pulling you here so suddenly.” He apologized.

“You’re fine, it won’t matter anymore. We shouldn’t have to worry about getting caught next time.” You smiled.

“Right… till then.” He weakly smiled back. 

Another moment of silence passed, it was almost like you both wanted to say something, but none of you worked up the courage to spit out.

“Till next time then. Take care of yourself, okay?” You pointed a finger at him.

Jungkook just nodded.

“Oh, and don’t forget to eat lunch!” You were saying anything you could think of to keep yourself around just a little longer in case he wanted to spill what he had on his mind. You really were concerned.

Jungkook just nodded again.

You glanced at him worriedly before you started heading to leave. Your eyes maintained their gaze, but you finally broke away and opened the door. With the click of it closing, you were gone.

Jungkook was alone.

In an instant, his eyes crinkled while tears poured out and slipped onto his cheeks. Jungkook quietly clasped a hand over his mouth to muffle the sounds of his abrupt sobs. 

Why does it hurt so much?

He just wanted it to end. Peace, he can’t go on like this much longer. All he wanted was a break from this hellish storm. Does it ever end? Everlasting, boundless, a harsh, brutal storm for the wicked. He couldn’t think of a more fitting punishment for people like him.

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[sightseertrespasser]

Odds of Survival Part 8

Per usual, the tf mecha au was spawned by @keferon

Prowl and the flyt he said he didn’t want: “It’s not an ESA, it’s a tool for detective work that runs on food and affection.”

Anyways why do pets always look like their owners?

———————————————————————

Prowl had approximately 6 breems before Elita finished cleaning her skull.

The tactician added 4 additional breems to account for time spent in adding the piece to her skull throne. On average, Elita One spent between 8 to 13 breems total on “personal art projects” as a way to unwind after intense battles.

As soon as Prowl was within comms range, he had sent an encoded message to Red Alert suggesting Breakdown intended to plant listening devices on the exterior of the Lost Light.

Nevermind the fact they were working on the same damn side.

That trick would keep the mech busy for at least 5 breem.

Typically, Prowl was the first to defend Red Alert as an invaluable head of security. His paranoia secured their defenses so well, security chief had completely countered every infiltration attempt by the Functionalists to date. That said, the price of privacy for their ship was Red Alert having a total monopoly on it instead.

The distraction was not only so Prowl could have a single minute of peace, but also to ensure the security officer did not interrogate an injured and highly unpredictable mech.

Because Jazz might actually give Red Alert a spark attack. (;7%)

Prowl tried to rub away the ache between his optics. Tacnet thrumming angrily with pent up, unfinished calculations. Most of which were completely defunct now thanks to the violator of numerical probability sitting in the medbay.

Jazz…

Fragging Jazz.

Prowl shut the door to his office. He could feel his helm getting warm again. He’d need to take what time he could to sort his processor before the logic cascades that had been accumulating since he found the mech became too much to manually keep on pause.

Luckily, the tactician had discovered a secret technique to unraveling Tacnet build up without requiring a constant cycling of industrial grade coolant.

Prowl unlocked the wardrobe-like habitat next to his desk.

A faintly cool breeze sighed from within, as the thawing process completed. Uncurling in response to the change of stimuli, a flyt woke from brumation to look at her praxian with bleary eyes.

“Hello Green.” Prowl eased a servo beneath the flyt. “we have much to discuss.”

As Green tucked herself against the ambient warmth of his frame, Prowl activated the large screen built into the adjacent wall.

“I met someone today.”

Tapping away, creating categories, connection points and theories arranged by probability, Prowl slowly filled the screen with a tree of possibilities.

All the while, conferring with Green to ensure his thoughts stayed at a conversational pace, rather than whirl through the labyrinth of his mind at breakneck speeds.

“-and then, he gave me his designation number, except it’s just a completely nonsensical string of seven numbers!”

Green squawked at the audacity of the mech.

“He did space out the numbers while reciting it. Two eight four, pause, four three four, pause, five five zero eight.” The praxian typed in the numbers, adding dashes where appropriate.

He muttered, mostly to himself, “This had better not be some sort of prank.”

As Prowl continued to verbally filter through his mental evidence locker, Tacnet finally straightened out the concrete math of the situation.

“Jazz is either an alien or a lost government experiment. Alien 57%, cybertronian 43%” The screen automatically supplied a pie chart, superseding several lesser graphs beneath it.

Prowl tilted his helm back and sighed, expelling all the hot air he’d holding behind locked vents at once.

Tacnet had finally. Finally, attached a precentiall figure to Jazz’s existence. The sheer relief of that knot untangling was better than any oil bath. Rolling his shoulders and neck, Prowl continued.

“There are two schools of thought regarding The Jazz Situation.” Prowl divided the board in two beneath the chart.

“The first, was that Jazz is a wholly alien mechanical lifeform, and it is through convergent design that he happens to closely resemble a cybertronian. Albeit with various physical abnormalities.”

Green squawked.

“Precisely. Until the language barrier is further overcome, we cannot rule out the second theory either. That Jazz is a creation of the Functionalists. It would account for the physical abnormalities while removing a significant amount of uncertainty the Alien Theory comes with.”

Prowl gathered a small bit of skitter. Green didn’t have much appetite immediately after waking, but the prospect of food still served as positive reinforcement for her “help”.

Ostensibly, caring for the flyt was supposed to take Prowls processor off of work. Jokes on his government assigned therapist, Green was a fantastic assistant and confident.

While he did care for his brothers, Smokescreen was explicitly unhelpful when Prowl latched onto something intellectually stimulating. Constantly cajoling him into going to bars or casinos or wherever else the elder Praxian considered “actually stimulating”.

And Bluestreak, meanwhile, was a mech physically incapable of keeping a secret.

“You don’t try to get me overcharged or tell everybody about the Mesothulas Incident.” The tactician cooed while scritching the underside of Greens beak.

Nevermind it was the same night.

Green trilled happily at the attention and praise, waking up more thoroughly.

“I’ll see about introducing you later. Jazz shows no discomfort concerning organics and I predict a strong likelihood he will appreciate your work.”

Just as Prowl was about to close the theory board, a comm came through, making him pause with a servo still hovering over the screen.

[VELOCITY]: Update about the patient for you sir.]

Speak not of Unicron lest he appears.

[PROWL]: Go ahead. Do you need me to come back to the medbay?]

[VELOCITY]: No, he’s not displaying any adverse behavior you warned me about. His common is very rough though and he’s definitely struggling to understand my questions and clearly articulate his answers. Outside of that, the patient seems fairly relaxed actually.]

Rough? Jazz had been making steady progress with his language acquisition. He should be capable of understanding and answering Velocity’s questions with 76% accuracy.

[PROWL]: He did suffer a helm injury, though I am certain you’ve taken that into account already.]

[VELOCITY]: I already ran a simple cognitive test and he passed without issue. I’d have to open his helm up to make sure, but he otherwise seems completely fine mentally.]

Prowl settled himself at his desk, tapping the surface absent mindedly.

[VELOCITY]: His other vitals are what concerns me however. By cybertronian medical standards, you brought me a talking corpse.]

Prowl stopped tapping.

[PROWL]: Elaborate.]

[VELOCITY]: The patient has no energon, no nanites, and no spark signature. He’s absolutely covered in the tiniest welds I’ve ever seen, which I should not be able to see if he had even 5% of the nanites a healthy mech should have.]

[PROWL]: Does he require more intensive medical treatment?]

[VELOCITY]: That’s a bit complicated to answer. He’s an alien so I’m not sure what his baseline for healthy is supposed to be. And if what you say about prior medical abuse is true, I don’t think he knows either.]

[VELOCITY]: He’s taking repairs like a champ so far. I can see he’s had a ton of previous repairs that all look clean and well executed despite being done without anesthetic.]

There are other kinds of avoidance than just physical aversion. Jazz is being compliant to get through the repairs quickly but faking confusion to avoid deeper medical questioning 88%.

[PROWL]: Unless it is to ask for consent for a procedure, you may desist questioning the patient for medical information. Rely on your own observations and expertise to form any pertinent theories.]

[VELOCITY]: Understood. The patient has turned down any deeper scans around his helm and chassis and I don’t want to push it on a first time check up. I’ve finished fixing his feet and the replacement part for his shoulder is almost done being machined.]

[VELOCITY]: I want to deal with his visor and helm sooner rather than later, but that’ll take a much more thorough scan to deal with. That’s all I have to update so far. His arm won’t heal on its own so I need to concentrate on rewiring the sensory network manually now.]

[PROWL]: Understood. Contact me immediately if anything changes.]

One more horrifying concept to add to the list. He was completely and utterly reliant on potentially manipulative doctors to fix even the most minute scraps and pains. No wonder Jazz had the pain tolerance of a Titan.

Prowl went to pull his data pad from subspace to update his Jazz Theory Board and stopped short with a full body cringe.

He gingerly took out Jazz’s missing shoulder and placed it on the table.

Prowl shuttered his optics.

The fact he forgot he had another mechs shoulder on his person was a testament to how badly he needed to defrag tonight. He briefly considered comming Velocity, but didn’t want to interrupt her operation on delicate wiring. Besides, if Jazz lacked a self repair system, then it wouldn’t matter if the piece was original or machine made.

It was such a fundamentally wrong concept, Prowl was unsure whether he’d prefer that to be Jazz’s natural state (51%) or a condition inflicted on him by whatever sadists created him (49%).

The tapping sound of beak on metal pulled Prowl back into the room.

“Green, do not.” He said sternly, lifting the flyt away from her object of fascination. She looked at him with pitifully wet eyes at the unhappy tone.

The praxians wings drooped. With some difficulty, Prowl attempted to project his EM field in something like “Your actions displeased me but I harbor no ill will towards your being. I am simply under a significant mental load and find the prospect of you attempting to eat a piece of someone’s body fairly distressing and ask that you discontinue that behavior and not act on any future impulses to put foreign objects in your mouth.”

What he got was a wobbly Meehm-blah-sorry-sad.

Flyts were supposedly capable of picking up on EM fields (12%). Prowl suspected Green was simply quite good at interpreting his body language and tone (88%).

In either case, Green responded by attempting to groom his plating, cooing softly. Organic EM fields were small and alien, but with practice and exposure one could begin to map one’s field to cybertronian equivalents. Green radiated a lightly brushing sympathy of sad and want-happy.

Prowl gave up on his field projection practice, and idly returned Greens affection with physical pets. If that damn therapist asked, he’d count it towards his quarterly goals.

That mech bothered him. Not just because he put limits on his workflow or for the one sided glaring contests Prowl would enact during their sessions. But because for the life of him Prowl could never remember his name. And that missing data point drove Tacnet crazy.

Everytime Prowl tried to investigate where the therapist even came from, something always came up distracting him from the task.

In a moment of determination, Prowl reached for his pad to look up his own therapists name on the ship’s registry and paused mid action.

The tactician turned his gaze back to the morbid weight resting on the desk.

His brow furrowed.

Lifting the piece closer (where Green couldn’t get at it), Prowl inspected something odd along the surface of the shoulder.

It looked like a row of staples protruding from the metal.

It looked like ladder rungs.

A frantic banging on Prowls door interrupted his introspection. He quickly subspaced the shoulder joint.

The indignant voice of Red Alert carried through the door, yelling to be let in immediately.

Prowl sent a few consecutive pings to clear the board, reduce interior illumination by 40% and then finally allow the chief of security entry.

Red Alert stumbled in through the sudden opening, plating misting off the residue frost formed by the chill of outer space. His optics darted rapidly around the dimmed interior, landing on the stone faced mech seated behind the desk.

Impassive and unreadable, the only signs the tactician was alive were the cold glow of his optics and the servo lightly stroking his pet. The flyts beady eyes bored into Red Alerts. Silent and unwavering.

Mouth suddenly dry, the mech was unable to form words.

The desired effect was achieved.

“I’ve been expecting you.” Prowl did not offer him a seat, as there was none to offer.

Red Alert got a hold of himself and puffed up his plating.

“Why is there an unauthorized mech on board this ship and why did I only hear about through gossip?!” Red Alert’s voice cracking the last word into a higher register.

“Jazz is authorized to be here. By me.” He offered Green a bit of skitter. “And by our captain. I found him stranded in open space after he fell out of a Quintesson gate tear.”

The smaller mech blanched slightly at the sight of an organic feeding. Prowl estimated the presence of Green would speed their meeting along by a factor of 120%.

“So you’re just bringing home random mechs then.” Red Alert flapped his arms at his sides. “How do you know he isn’t a Functionalist spy? Or a High Command spy? Or a third party spy?!”

Prowl raised a single digit. “One, Velocity has confirmed Jazz is absolutely an alien lifeform and not cybertronian in origin.” He held up a second digit. “And two, he fell out of a quintesson gate tear in the middle of empty space.”

Red Alert began to pace the room. “Okay fine. He’s not a plant for any cybertronian factions. How do you know he isn’t some kind of twisted Quintesson creation? Maybe he was created to infiltrate our ranks, and then a sleeper agent switch flips and he kills us all!”

“He is not a quintesson creation.” Prowl plainly stated to Red Alerts increasing exasperation.

“And how do you know that?!” Throwing his servos in the air.

“He likes music.”

Red Alert reset his optics. “Come again?”

Prowl cleaned off his servo with a rag in his desk, and played a low quality snippet of Jazz’s music that he’d managed to capture.

Red Alert startled at the sudden unfamiliar sound.

When actually was the last time any of them had heard new music? Before the civil war at least.

Prowl continued, “Quintessons do not value nor comprehend alien aesthetics. Their culture revolves around expansion and material acquisition and whatever may qualify as “art” to them does not equate to our understanding of it. They have absolutely no records of partaking in sound based recreation nor of collecting samples from other cultures.”

The snippet cut short. “Simply put, quintessons don’t know good music. Jazz does.”

Red Alert was loosing steam, but still had one more point to contend with.

“Isn’t just too improbable though?” Hands on the desk, leaning as close as he dared. “That out of the entirety of the universe, Jazz just so happened to pop out exactly next to the shuttle you were riding on, conveniently alone, unconscious, unharmed AND he gets picked up by high ranking decepticon?” For once, it looked less like Red Alert was fighting him, rather than pleading with him.

Prowl tilted his helm slightly, “You are correct. The odds are unfathomably low. So low in fact, it is nearly statistically impossible to achieve such a scenario on purpose.”

Quintesson gates were finicky. They had a margin of error the breadth of planets. That was also usually their targets however, and quints weren’t picky where they touched down.

“But-“

“But what? I have addressed every concern you have presented.” Prowl flared his doorwings. “I found a lost mech of a new alien species that may very well be an invaluable ally in the war against the quintessons. It’s a valuable opportunity.”

Red Alert balled his fists, fear manifesting as a last burst of rage. “It’s a trap! It’s an Oil-Pot! It is so obviously a purposeful manipulation when you look at it from the outside!”

The security officer began counting on his digits, “Step one! Put a handsome mech somewhere in need of saving so the target feels like they’re in control and the hero. Step two! Ramp up the flirting and the codependency, they need you so you stay in touch and start giving in to more of their requests. Step three! The Oil-Pot gets you alone somewhere under false pretenses where they SPLIT OPEN YOUR PROCESSOR AND SCRAPE IT FOR SECRETS!”

Red Alerts fans blasted hot air around the room. The mech challenging the Praxian for whatever excuse he had this time.

Prowl stood. Taking his time to return Green to her habitat.

“What am I most known for?”

For not the first time since entering his office, Red Alert was knocked off balance.

“I..uh. Math?” He stammered. Knowing the answer but not wanting to say it.

Prowl lacked that reservation.

“Any spy worth their shanix would have done their research thoroughly before even attempting such a scam. If one were to sift through information on me organized by Decepticons, the most prominent word would be Efficient.”

Prowl leisurely shook out Greens cloth-mop nest of any remaining ice crystals.

“If they sourced their information from the Functionalists, that description would include the word Ruthless.”

Prowl gave the flyt one last scritch before closing the door.

“Other popular words I’ve cataloged in relation to my name include Cold, Severe, Sparkless, Unfeeling and Merciless.” The smaller mech shrunk a little with every addition.

Prowl stepped around the desk in the dimly lit room to stand directly before Red Alert, servos clasped behind his back. “With this information available, any spy would be an idiot to attempt an Oil-Pot against me specifically. Ask nearly any mech aboard this ship if they think I’d go out of my way to save a stranger for no apparent benefit and they’d tell you No.”

Red Alert fiddled with his servos, torn between a nervous tick and the pressure to be professional. “If that’s all true, then.”

He chanced a glance at Prowl face, which gave away nothing. “Then why did you save him?”

“Because they are wrong.”

The room brightened back to normal levels, as Prowl sent a ping first to the lights and then to open his office door. He held out a servo, gesturing to the exit.

“Until further notice, Jazz is to be treated the same as a rescued non combatant. He will be kept under observation but not interrogation. We can work out the details at a later-“

[VELOCITY]: Jazz is gone.]

Prowl closed his servo. His doorwings twitched once. Red Alert tensed.

[VELOCITY]: I just finished the last repair and when I turned around he disappeared from the medbay. The guards outside didn’t see him.]

Prowl marched out the door, pulling Red Alert along in the direction of the security office. “I require your assistance immediately, as Jazz is currently loose somewhere on the ship, unmonitored.”

The tactician endured the security chiefs well earned tirade the entire way. Prowl kept a steely grip on the situation, only barely convincing Red Alert not to raise every alarm on the premise that Jazz would be easier to find if he didn’t think they were looking for him.

Tacnet stubbornly held onto the 56% saying Jazz was experiencing a delayed negative reaction to his medical care and was acting out of fear.

A steadily growing percentage screamed sabotage in a voice annoyingly similar to Red Alerts.

Said mech was almost cheery with vindication, in between vehemently describing every way the Lost Light could explode with the next few breems.

Red Alert worked fast. Sifting through the camera feed at a dizzying speed. A camera caught Jazz quickly slipping out of the medbay. Barely escaping the notice of the two mechs tasked with keeping watch. Prowl noted their designations for later scathing admonishment.

“The port side door lock is time stamped as malfunctioning just before Velocity discovered Jazz’s disappearance. It looks like the lock experienced an extremely localized electromagnetic pulse, putting it in Safe Mode.”

Red Alert switched the camera feeds on the main screen. “After he rounds this corner he just vanishes. I can’t find him anywhere on my system.”

Prowl nodded. “Good. Then I know exactly where he has to be.”

There were very few places to hide upon the Lost Light. Red Alert made certain of that. Which by extension meant that someone desperate to stay out of any camera views would have an extremely limited amount of space to operate in.

That space would normally be un-traversable, unless the mech in question was in possession of incredibly powerful magnetic augments, allowing them to crawl along the ceilings.

Prowl sent out a flurry of comms, updating Elita and calling in trusted reinforcements. He set out down the hall.

[PROWL]: What rooms aboard this ship do you not have any cameras inside of?]

[Red Alert]: The war room. The Captains quarters, your office, the therapists office and the operating theater.]

[PROWL]: There’s a camera in my berthroom?]

[Red Alert]: I mean. It’s not like you use it?]

Prowl consistently removed any bugging attempts in his office. Half the reason he kept Green in there was to deter Red Alert from trying. The other half was because he legitimately spent more time there than in his quarters.

He mentally crossed off his office, Elita’s quarters, the operating theater and the therapists office from the list as each one had someone inside at the time of Jazz’s disappearance.

All that left was the war room. Windowless, minimalist and with only once entrance, Jazz would be cornered like an animal in a trap.

Prowl gathered several of the least impulsive guards he could summon on short notice. Lining them along the hallway, he ordered them to shoot to disable. Prowl added that he would make an attempt to talk the mech down before escalating further.

If Jazz was spec ops (44%), the only benefit of infiltrating the war room would be to plant listening devices in its purposefully sparse interior. If Jazz wasn’t acting out of malice, and simply having a panic attack (56%), he may still react violently to suddenly being cornered.

Matchup: Close quarters fight Jazz versus Prowl. Jazz victory 97%.

The 3% in Prowls favor mostly depended on Jazz having some kind of sudden health emergency.

Prowl carefully assumed a neutral pose, knocking on the door to the war room.

“This is officer Prowl speaking. Please exit the room peacefully, we do not want to hurt you.”

Silence, save for the shifting of many nervous peds behind him. Prowl risked opening the door a crack, keeping his body well out of the line of fire. “Jazz, it is Prowl speaking. I need you to say something. Otherwise we’re going to have to come in.”

When there was still no response, Prowl signaled for the gathered soldiers to come closer in preparation for a raid.

On the silent count of three, they entered the war room, blasters drawn and optics searching.

Prowl kept special focus on the ceiling. Fanning his doorwings, He created a real time 3D map of the room, tracking every mechs movements within.

Jazz wasn’t here.

Instantly, Prowl prepared to order a ship wide mech hunt. They’d already wasted so much time with their one sided negotiations. The tactician began rerunning his mental map of where Jazz could have disappeared.

Elita had already sent him several unhappy comms messages about what she was going to do to the alien and him if Prowl didn’t find them. Confirming between threats that Jazz hadn’t gotten into her room.

Velocity had Nautica and Nightbeat in the med bay with her, turning the place upside down in case Jazz doubled back.

He found the comm line for the therapists office.

[PROWL] We have a rogue, possibly unstable mech loose within the Lost Light. Are you inside your office?]

[RUNG] Ah Prowl! Good to see you reaching out to me first for a change. Just finished up a lovely talk with Jazz.]

[RUNG] I think he has something important to tell you.]

———————————————————————

I am generally intrigued by the concept of how being apart of the Decepticon’s pecking order messes a person up.

There’s references all over to how Prowls physical and mental well being got absolutely wrecked and is now in recovery from being apart of High Command. (Inspired partially by @glitchgh0sty’s Deception AU go check ‘em out they’re cool.)

I also wanted to explore the social side of things.

Prowl makes himself unapproachable on purpose, Elita makes acts of excessive violence on her enemies a prominent display and Red Alert is even more invasive than normal.

It’s all to ward off other Decepticons from sensing weakness and stabbing them in the backs. Younger mechs like Bluestreak and Velocity can get away with being much more relaxed and friendly because they’ve got scary ass mechs like Prowl and Elita behind them radiating the “I will fucking destroy you.” energy on their behalf.

We get to see the masks slip a bit here and there. Red Alert genuinely concerned for Prowls safety underneath the paranoia. Elita gives Jazz and Prowl a lot more freedom than an actual tyrant would, even if it’s granted with over the tops threats of physical violence. And of course we see a lot of what Prowl is actually like removed from the pressure of behaving like a “proper” Decepticon.

Wonder what will happen when a certain mecha pilot gets a crowbar under those masks.

-SSTP

[lost-romantique]

Stolas - Five Stages of Grief (Sinsmas)

One thing I don't hear many people talk about is the fact that Sinsmas illustrates Stolas learning and accepting his new reality that he's thrusted into, and through it he goes through the Five Stages of Grief. I think it's also important to note that Stolas' grief is due largely in part to not having Octavia around, and the fact that he's been off his antidepressants the entire month.

Denial- A temporary response to loss, where you might not fully comprehend the reality that your in.

Day by Day illustrates the very first month Stolas is spent living with Blitz, he goes about the day(s), living life with Blitz and while he's happy to be with Blitz, you can tell that he's also struggling.

Listen to the lyrics:

Keep it calm, life goes on, and on, and on Nothing's wrong, nothing's wrong So why do I still feel this way?

Stolas is living life with Blitz domestically, going out on dates here and there, seeing how he lives, seeing how imps live, and he's just at a loss, confused, not really knowing what to do. But he pretends that everything is okay, everything has to be okay.

Anger- Stolas letting all his anger and grief from the current situation he's in out and about.

Stolas has what is essentially a mental breakdown in the span of a minute: breaking Blitz's phone (Stolas sweetie don't break your bfs phone, that's his job), ripping and tearing stuff apart, blaming himself for his stupidity for having ruined his life in order to fulfill his fantasies.

Note: When Stolas calls himself stupid for fulfilling a fantasy, I honestly think he's talking about the context of him and Blitz and their transactional arrangement. Remember, during the very beginning of their transactional relationship, Stolas was very much chasing a fantasy.

Bargaining- Making promises to do better or be better whether it be to a higher power or to yourself.

Stolas begging Octavia to listen to him, to what he has to say. Stolas is extremely desperate to get Octavia to listen to him, to get Octavia back in his life.

"No! No! Never Via, sweetie please, you have always been the only good thing in my life." "I love you Via so, so much. Please sweetie let me explain..."

Depression- A feeling of dread that feels like it will last forever, but is a necessary part of the healing process.

Stolas, immediately after getting home from the palace, sits down on the couch just to process everything. Stolas spends, what looks to be hours, sitting on contemplation- occasionally resting his head on Blitz's horns.

Note: I love how Blitz stays close to Stolas the entire time, never leaving his side, except to help decorate for the Sinsmas Party and to change into his Sinsmas sweater. Even when the Sinsmas party starts, and he starts looking content, he's always with Stolas the entire time.

Acceptance- You learn to live with the loss and acknowledge that both sorrow and joy can coexist.

Blitz helps Stolas learn to accept this new way of life, and for a moment he helps him forget all the pain as he leads them into a very romantic dance.

Stolas, for the first time since losing his daughter, is able to laugh freely and find joy in that moment, and it's all thanks to Blitz.

Stolas looks out into the sky as he realizes that this is his life now. From now on, he will have to live life of a commoner with his only solace being Blitz. The moment Stolas closes his eyes is the moment he accepts this new reality of his.

I love the tragic irony of Stolas spending the entirety of Season 2 pining and chasing after an emotionally constipated lizard to the point that he is unknowingly hurting his daughter in the process. But by the end of that season, he gets the unconditional love of the man he's in love with, only to lose the one thing he thought he would never lose- his daughter's love.

I do want to point out that I do feel bad for Stolas, but I also understand very well that this was his choice in the end. And from now on he has to live with that choice, to live with the consequences.

[qinnyanimation]

¿Cómo es la relación de tus hermanos Atridas (Menelao y Agamenón)?

Pretty much the canon iliad! Agamemnon is a dick to every single human being except his baby brother😔 One of my favorite part of Iliad is actually these two!

When Menelaus was shot in the leg (in the most unharmed , non dangerous , just a scratch way possible) and Agamemnon was literally having a mental breakdown.

Agamemnon: NO NO OH GODS ABOVE TAKE ME! TAKE ME INSTEAD!

Menelaus: Agamemnon I’m fine.

Agamemnon: HOW CRUEL OF FATES TO TAKE MY DEAR BROTHER AWAY FROM MY EMBRACE

Menelaus: okay okay you big cry baby. Lets go now *carries his brother back to camp

[halles-comet]

Admittedly, a very funny part of Mad Men is that all the gay characters have absolutely horrible taste in their office crushes. Sal you’re gonna pine over a lighter from Just Ken? Bob Benson is gonna risk his career and possibly life by hitting on PETE CAMPBELL?!? Truly the work of a straight male showrunner. Except for Ginsberg who was like “Peggy I’m gonna level with you I’m having a mental breakdown and also I think I want to fuck early-70s peak sexy Stan may I PLEASE have a panic attack on your couch”. That one has taste and also really speaks to the community experience

[llilyrose]

drawing one scene from each ghostlight chapter as i read them until I'm all caught up with the fic

part five:

“Comfortable?” She checks. “Enough,” you reply. She nods, picking up the brush. “I'm going to brush it out first, to make sure it's all smooth.” You hum your assent, and you see her smile in the mirror, getting to work. It's… very nice, actually. You try not to melt too much, because it'd be embarrassing, and also you'll fall off the stool and give yourself a concussion. It's strange. You've had far more contact with other people in the past two days than you have in… about as long as stardust was looping, actually. You think you touched their hand, once, when they were having a mental breakdown, but that was about it. Honestly, even before then, you didn't get to really touch anyone in most of your loops. The last time was an exception. You… don't want to think about it.

(part one, two, three, four)

[dee-writes-anime]

do you have any headcanons with soft yandere hawks?

Obsessed? No, Baby, this is Love

FEATURING Keigo 'Hawks' Takami i x Reader

SUMMARY He's not crazy and he means well, that's all! OR yandere hawks headcannons

CONTENT WARNINGS Hawks being overprotective, stalker tendencies, obsessions, and stuff like that!

AUTHORS NOTE I love making headcannons! They're pretty stress free and it's nice to take a break once and a while from plotting and writing and instead just being able to yap. Thanks for the request anon! <3

Constantly checking in

Hawks texts you more than a grandma on Facebook. It starts with a simple “Hey, how’s your day going?” but quickly spirals into 57 messages asking if you’re eating, sleeping, and possibly getting your required dose of love for the day. “I know you're fine, but just wanted to check—are you still breathing? Have you drank enough water, or should I remind you again?” You almost feel like you’re his pet, except, you know, way cuter.

He’ll “protect” you (a.k.a. hover over you)

His wings? They’re not just for flying, no. They’re like a personal shield that always shows up at the worst possible moments. You’ll be minding your business, and suddenly, there’s Hawks, hovering two inches behind you like a warm, feathery cloud. “Just here to keep an eye on you,” he says. And you’re like, Can I breathe though?

Who doesn't love surpise gifts?! (that double as surveillance devices)

Hawks loves to surprise you with thoughtful little trinkets, but they always come with just a touch of paranoia. “I saw this keychain and thought it’d be cute for you!” Sure, it’s cute… until you notice the tiny GPS tracker hidden inside it. “It’s for your safety,” he says with a wink. Right, Hawks. We all know it’s just in case someone tries to get too close to you. How sweet… and creepy.

Oh! Funny running into you here! ^.^

You think you’ve got your life together, doing errands, living your best independent life, but oh wait—here’s Hawks, just happening to be at the same café as you. “What a coincidence! I was just nearby!” Uh-huh, right. And I’m just shocked you also happened to bring coffee for both of us. It’s fine, though—he’s just making sure you’re not plotting to run off into the sunset with someone who doesn’t know your coffee order by heart.

He hides his jealousy so well! (can you hear his eye twitching?)

You ever see someone try to hide a full-on mental breakdown with a forced smile? Yeah, that’s Hawks when anyone looks at you for more than a second. Someone says “hi” to you at the grocery store? Expect a dramatic, almost cinematic shift in his vibe. His wing stiffens, the smile freezes, and you can practically hear the internal scream. “Oh, hey, did you want to buy something from their cart? I’m sure they don’t mind…” Sure, Hawks. Totally not possessive.

He's so sweet!... why is it almost scary?

At first, you think it’s sweet when Hawks remembers that you prefer a certain type of tea. Then you realize he’s tracking everything. “Remember when you said you liked that red dress from last summer? I got you a matching scarf!” And you're just standing there like, “Thanks? Are you trying to get me to fall in love with you or just lock me down forever?” His answer? “Both. But mostly the first one.”

Overprotective in the most (un)subtle way!

If you ever think you're going out for a “normal” night, you’re so wrong. “You don’t have to go out tonight, do you? It’s really cold out, and I’d hate for you to catch a cold.” Translation: “I’d prefer if you just stayed here and let me watch over you like a hawk (pun intended).” You try to resist, but then he hits you with the puppy eyes, and suddenly, you’re canceling plans to stay in and binge-watch Netflix with him… because clearly, you’re too important to be out in the world without him.

He's obsessed in love with the little things!

Hawks is obsessed with every single part of you, even the things you don’t notice. He’ll bring up the exact way you tap your foot when you’re anxious or how you always hum that one song when you’re about to do something important. “I thought you’d like these earrings because you always wear that shade of blue.” He’s scarily good at remembering everything. And you’d be a little worried if you weren’t so flattered by the fact that this man can’t get enough of you.

Bottom line? Hawks is like the perfect mix of sweet and “don’t you dare leave me alone for more than five minutes” obsession. But hey, at least you don’t have to worry about losing your keys, right? Because he’s got a tracker on everything—including your heart.

TAGLIST

@surielstea

[biblically-accurate-dca]

full breakdown of the daycare attendant's color scheme & minor design details throughout their apperances

bc im mentally ill abt them lol

warning: this is a very long post and will probably only interest a very specific audience of people

3d model

(source)

their body follows the pattern of having a "primary" color, a "secondary" color, and an "accent" color. this pattern shows up for all of their apperances.

the primary color is the one applied to the crescent moon on their face, the right half of their torso, the upper half of their forearms, the middle "in between" sections of their fingers, and their legs.

the secondary color is the one applied to the other half of their face, and the other half of their torso.

the accent color is applied to their lower forearm, their palm, and their finger tips.

sun's color scheme is a pale tan color(primary), a light orange color(secondary), and a light grey(accent). notably, sun's 3d model's palms are colored with their primary color instead of their secondary.

moon's colors are a pale white, a blueish black, and bright dark blue respectively. also the white of their upper arm fades out into the blue of their lower arm before ending at the elbow, but this doesn't show up on sun's arm. (also also, moon's eyebrow & eyelash are colored in with their secondary color, while sun's isn't colored in at all.)

the buttons on their chest tend to fall more in line with the main colors of their clothes, except for moon's 3d model which is their body's secondary color instead.

nothing major to say about their clothes, so here's a thought about their color schemes: even though moon shares a lot of colors with sun (red, orange, and yellow), sun's design doesn't have any of moon's blue. (though sometimes sun is shown with blue eyes? so who knows.)

their ruffles and ribbons all tend to stay the same color (red), all except for the ruffles on moon's neck which turn blue. this is a consistent detail throughout all of their designs.

their little elf shoes are orange and stay the same color regardless of which form they're in. there's a crescent moon on the inner facing side and a star on the outer side. the crescent moon's two pointy parts(?) are pointed towards their heel.

i will not talk too much about their head/face, but here are some details that are different in other iterations: their eyes do not move, sun's rays cannot rotate and can only move inwards and outwards, and moon's hat goes over their forehead.

also their ribbons have no physics in this game LOL

concept art

(source)

covering this first because the general color scheme and the placement of those colors is nearly identical to their in game model (albeit with brighter, more saturated colors). the overall design is also highly similar, but with a few notable discrepancies:

one major detail that's different in all their drawn iterations is that their torso is one solid piece instead of two separate parts like it is with their 3d models.

moon's arm gradient is still present on their concept art, however sun now has a lighter colored gradient on the end of their arm to match moon's coloration! (this could always be shading but it feels too specific for this to be the case). (also, moon's arms, fingertips, and stars seem to almost glow? which is potentially what their unused emission textures are based off of.)

sun's palms are colored grey! also, the middle sections of moon's fingers are colored dark grey on the concept art (pretty much everything with their primary color is colored like this ((except their face)), but it's probably just due to shading this time since it's not present anywhere else but here.

they seem to have a little circular panel near where their arm bends that isn't present on their 3d model. same with a rectangular panel on their leg.

their clothes, ribbons, and shoes are mostly the same except for a couple small things: moon's pants have faint lines on them to match sun's, their shoes have no symbols on them, and the bit of ribbon on the ends of their pants is colored yellow instead of red. (also moon's shoes are colored darker.)

their face has a lot of notable differences too, but one of the biggest ones is that they have no left cheek! their grin stretches a lot farther up on that side of their face because of this (they have no lips on that side of their face either!). the circular indent on their cheek is colored in on sun's face, their eyes aren't being squished by their cheeks anymore, and they also have a lot more teeth (which don't stretch into the corners of their mouth, and are colored differently than the rest of their face.) lastly, they share the same color for their eyebrow and eyelash!

official art work

something important to note is that all of the dca's (current) official art will have this color scheme and all of the same details due to them either being drawn by the same artist, or because all other current official artwork of them is based off of this design and/or the concept art. (any and all additional artwork i mention can actually be found on their wiki page, but i'll link to it here if i feel it's important.)

one of the most notable details of their official art is that their accent color has been changed to a light grey color for both of them (albeit slightly warmer or colder to match their respective color schemes). though, interestingly enough, moon's palms (similarly to sun's 3d model) are colored with their primary color instead, despite both designs having this detail in the concept art.

additionally, something that was changed from the sketch for this drawing, is that (like their concept art) their shoes lack the little symbols on them, and the ribbon tied on the end of their pants was colored yellow instead of red. something that wasn't changed though is their lack of a left cheek.

moon's button aren't visible here, but other artworks (such as their claw machine artwork) show them as a blue color to match with sun's red.

sun's arm still has the little circular panel near their elbow that can be found on their concept art.

their face has a lot of similar details to their concept art, while still being stretchy and cartoony. they have a lot more craters spread around their face, and sun has consistently been shown to have a chipped tooth... it's cute.

before i move on, i'd like to talk a little bit about their various eye colors! there are several instances of sun with golden colored eyes (e.g. this drawing here, their in game plush, their claw machine art, their piñata from ruin, their actual design from ruin, and an exclusive design from steelwool's store.), while there are only two instances of sun with blue eyes (the sunnydrop candy poster and their icon on the daycare pass).

moon's eye color (when their eyes aren't just... closed) tends to just be red, but there are still a few instances of them with a blue right eye (their plush and piñata, with their claw machine art's eyes being entirely blue).

there's actually even a few specific instances of their eyes being black (their 3d model, the golden moon plush, and the golden sun plush... however that one is more brown than black.)

there's also that one book cover of moon with the pink spiral eyes but that was more of a one off thing.

ruin

this is where my bitching session starts

very noticeably, their eyes move around in this game. did they finally get the glitter glue out of their eyes after the earthquake or something? does no one care about their dead fish eye swag...

speaking of eyes it's actually kind of lame they have yellow eyes instead of blue. the blue eyes actually have some additional meaning to them when you consider moon, but the yellow eyes are just... well, they're already super yellow. what makes them so special. make moon's eyes yellow for a change.

ok actually relevant: they use a mix of both sun and moon's primary colors, while using exclusively moon's secondary colors... both of their accent colors are used too with sun's on their right and moon's on their left.

suddenly their unused emission textures decide to join the party... this was a weird decision for them to make when those textures weren't even visible before. but ok.

all things considered they're actually not even that damaged. the most major damage is to their outer casing and their leg... like, compared to the others this is pretty good? even compared to the original shattered animatronics this is good??

wait is their hat just sitting on the very top of their head? is that because of the rays? are they holding it up? why was this a thing that was changed.

hw2

ok well the hat is even farther back now. what the hell. why

iirc their eyes don't noticeably move around as much as they do in ruin, but they do still move around sometimes (iirc they spin around after sun's cartwheel?) which i guess is fine. whatever. im the only bitch who would care about this anyway

they nerfed moon's ultra bright high beam eyes in this one... sad!

this is such a non problem but sometimes (especially in sb) when you shine a light on moon their pants have this little purple shaded section on the inner thigh parts and it looks. weird. in this picture it's not visible due to the shaders but it's very noticable in the daycare section of sb when you get a good look at them with the flashlight.

actually you ever realize how their design literally makes no sense whatsoever. how does their casing change color, and why is their coloring so inconsistent between the two without visibly affecting the other? how do their CLOTHES change color like that?? where the hell does the hat come from??? why do specifically and only the neck ruffles change color???? where do their pupils come from????? i will stop talking about this now

jack o' moon

they do have moon's color patterns, they're just shifted around a little. they even sort of have the lack of a texture on the sun rays that moon's model has! but this time it's actually intentional.

their face has the world's shittiest paint job which i think is really funny. i guess it does sort of look like a pumpkin yeah.

idk how the hell their glowing mouth overlay works but it's certainly a thing they have. the glowing eyes are also pretty cool looking admittedly. and the insides of their eyebrow, eyelash, and craters glow a little bit too.. that's cute.

the ruffles on their neck and waist, and the ribbons around the bottom of their pants are green, while the ribbons around their wrists are purple (but a small part of the ribbon on their right wrist is still red)? their shoes are similarly purple.

potato sack pants ♡ it's a really good part of the whole look actually

basically their design is like if bbw eclipse was stupid. but like in a funny and endearing way WAIT ACTUALLY SPEAKING OF THAT

balloon world eclipse

bitching session is officially OVER

first off: sun's faces! so the first face very obviously takes inspiration from their in game artwork while still having the general face shape for their regular look. the scattered look of the craters on their face and the color of their eyebrow reflect this as well. sun doesn't have their trademark chipped tooth but overall it's a very nice look and it serves it's purpose very well.

since sun's 2nd face and moon's are the same i'll go over them both here... this look is very much based off of their concept art look! but it's more noticable in the shape of their eyes and the way their teeth are drawn this time, because they actually do have a left cheek... but the corner of their mouth still stretches up the same way it does when they don't have one! also, the base color for moon's eye is a little purple here which is always fun.

now ECLIPSE... brightly lit yellow eyes with red flickering pupils... the light being pushed out between the cracks of their teeth... a menacing color scheme too dark for sun but too bright for moon... the faint color of the illuminated crescent moon hidden inside the darkness of their face... their complete and utter lack of a left cheek because it never got added onto this sprite... this is PEAK eclipse design

also, this isn't about their design but i edited these sprites for something a while back and noticed that some of the pixels were just ever so slightly off color? which leads me to believe this was done in a regular art program not made for pixel art, and that whoever made these isn't super experienced with it.. however that honestly just adds to the charm for me. i really love these sprites.

harvest moon

oh mmy god look at it

[readerattheend]

Wisdom in the Holy Trinity of Light Novels/Manhwa

I took part in a conversation about wisdom and the evidence of it, and the conclusion we came to at the time was that wisdom is evidenced as a kind of understanding of how to live.

I've seen conversation on this website and elsewhere where people talk about how we often don't know what to do because it is our first time being alive. Wisdom is the learning and experience we obtain as we continue to work and struggle through our 'first time being alive.'

In Lout of the Count's Family, My S-Class Hunters, and Omniscient Reader's Viewpoint, the protagonists have been brought up in significantly similar circumstances and they end up taking significantly similar actions. Kim Roksoo, Han Yoojin, and Kim Dokja grew up essentially parentless, or at least abandoned, and through their life experiences they learned extreme hardiness and kindness, not shying away from pain for the sake of the people who are important to them.

However, their wisdom, their maturity, is on different levels. I think we partially see the differences in the amount of pain their sometimes-selfish selfless actions cause their loved ones as a consequence. I would love to hear dissent to reevaluate and deepen my understanding of the characters, but as I understand it right now, here's my analysis of the maturity of each protagonist starting from least wisdom:

Kim Dokja: He collects a family on the pretense of usefulness. He knows that adults should not hurt children, and someone has to stand in the way of the blade pointed at a helpless person's heart. Ultimately, he understands the desire of others to be understood, and he seeks to fill that void because he has seen the decay of his own life in which people constantly misunderstood him with no room for change. However, he cannot hope in anyone understanding him anymore because he hasn't had room to heal, so he fundamentally misunderstands (and therefore hurts) his loved ones, who are so desperate to reciprocate his love. They see that he has given them everything they need except one thing: the need to connect back. Instead, they are left reaching into the empty space he leaves behind, trying their hardest to squint and see the face behind the wall, because Dokja hasn't yet matured in wisdom to understand them.

Han Yoojin: He's only a little better than Dokja, honestly. Yoojin actually gets that his loved ones love him and want to make sure he lives a comfortable life. He is 30 years old and has become an expert at yearning for love, so he recognizes joy when his loved ones care for him. He loves them so much that he wants to keep being with them and continue letting them enjoy his care, too, to the degree that he does not want to die for them. He recognizes death and absence as absolute last-resorts, not as viable solutions like Dokja. However, he's still self-deprecative, still struggles with hating himself enough that even if death isn't an option, extreme agony and mental breakdowns are always on the table. He has spent a lot of time building up resentment against the people who hurt him, but when the people who hurt him were his loved ones, he redirected that resentment at himself. His lack of wisdom comes in that he can't share discomfort with others. He can't delegate agonies. He's willing to subject himself to hellfire, he hasn't developed enough security in his value to ask others to do the same. It stems from extreme outward-facing love, but lacks wisdom in that it is not sustainable with his F-rank self.

Kim Roksoo: He's got to be the best of the three. Although he's in denial about his affection for all of his dear ones, he can't help but show his love in every move and thought. He takes them in, gives them a place and a purpose, showers them in the good he never got while growing up, and reviles anything that would cause them harm. Although he lives in denial, it comes through more as an old wound that he has learned to live with rather than an actively bleeding knife wound that keeps getting stabbed like Yoojin's and Dokja's hurts. Unlike Yoojin and Dokja, he values his own comfort. He is repulsed by death and pain and only undertakes projects that will be uncomfortable for him if he perceives that the reward gets him back 100Xs the value. Because he understands that his discomfort hurts his dear ones, he avoids exposing them to it by avoiding letting it happen in the first place. A lot of accidental pain happens for them because he's living in the denial mindset where he doesn't think to tell them about things, but his choices are not made out of low self-worth like Yoojin's and Dokja's. Out of the three, he is the best at taking his lived experiences and learning how to pursue a life that makes him and his dear ones happy. He's not perfect, but he is the wisest of Holy Trinity.