#i have honestly been so busy and anxious as I try to regain control of my life

[vesuvian-american-fics]

better with time. Ch 3

one hundred and seven years.

The year is what now? 850?! (AO3)

Words: 2192

The next morning, you were awoken early by a harsh kick to your cell’s rusted bars, dust dwindling down from the ceiling peppered your face as you were ripped from your dreamless sleep. Snapping your eyes open you sat up stiffly, your back aching from your new stubborn mattress. In front of you stood three imposing figures, Levi, Hange, and a taller man, blonde hair, blue eyes, thick eyebrows that sat atop a strong handsome face that screams, “I’m reliable you can count on me”. You found yourself anxious under his piercing gaze and oddly warm and generous smile.  

Sheepishly you smiled back at him and Hange, your gaze drifting right over the top of Levi’s head. You noticed his eyebrow raise suspiciously at your avoidant scan. He sucked his teeth before pulling out a seat for himself on the other side of the cell. Hange took a seat as well, while the new guy remained standing, further adding to his impressive aura. He oozed confidence and strength, something you hadn’t yet experienced in this magnitude. He had a strength about him not found in Levi or Hange, the strength of true leadership. Something about him just felt like you could follow him to the ends of the Earth if he asked, and you’d never regret such a decision. It was quite nerve wracking considering you knew nothing of him.  

“Hello. My name is Commander Erwin Smith.” His voice deep as you expected. You gave back a simple wave and looked to Hange to speak the words you couldn’t.  

“Ah, as you remember Commander, she has very little memory.” They explained, much to your relief. So, the Commander had a bit of a debriefing, that’s good. Saves you all some time.  

“Yes, well. We’re just about caught up on your situation miss, let me get you up to date. For starters, the year is 850. Does that happen to help you recall how long you were a titan?” He asked, a more serious concerned look to his features now. Thick brows knitted together in concentration and his sky-blue orbs piercing through you so fiercely you feared he could see through your clothes.  

But no, more importantly, did he say the year was 850? If there was one simple thing you remembered from the past it was the year. There was no way of continuously keeping time for so long out in the wilderness but you hadn’t imagined it would have been 107 years! Your eyes blew wide in confusion and fear, lips slightly parted as your mind worked to wrap around the news that you were a titan for over a century.  

The three of them seemed to pick up on your prickling anxiety and simultaneously they leaned in, anticipated anything. Shakily, you pointed towards the notepad and pen in Hange’s lap and they quickly slid it across the floor to you.  

Blinded by tears and dread, you struggled to sloppily write a number. The last year you remember. The year 743. It took Hange no time to decipher your chicken scratch and they mumbled under their breath their hypothesis.  

“Is 743 the year you were born?!” They stammered, and you shook your head wearily in response.  

“The last year you remember?” Erwin asked plainly, and you nodded solemnly. Levi’s steely grey eyes widened just a fraction before regaining his composure and returning to his usual bored look. His trained eyes raked over your face studying your expression, shock, sadness, confusion. You hadn’t a clue how you’re alive right now.  

“107 years.” Levi stated, lacking any form or emotion. It was like he was simply echoing your thoughts for everyone to hear, and it's true. It has been 107 years. You honestly felt a bit sick at the realization but, what did you expect. You knew a lot of time had passed, too much time to be honest. However, the reality was nevertheless horrifying. More than a few lifetimes had passed, anyone you may have ever loved was long gone by now, not that you’d even remember them truly.  

You heaved a shaky, trembling sigh and Erwin gave a sad, knowing smile to you. It was sort of comforting, but you were on edge still.  

“Anything else you remember?” He asked, full of patience. You shook your head after a bit of thinking, nothing important was coming to mind. Just bits and flashes of things that you yourself couldn’t even begin to explain. Seemingly done with the questioning for now, Erwin bid you ado and Hange followed close behind.  

Captain Levi however, stood back for just a bit, much to your chagrin. You wanted nothing more than to be left alone for a moment to process things. If anybody were to stay behind a bit to ogle, you’d hope it were Hange, they could probably give you a laugh or two. Levi said nothing before tossing a book to the floor before your feet, you shot him an annoyed glare before he spoke.  

“Practice your reading brat,” was all he said before he quietly climbed the stairs and locked the door at the top. Grabbing the book and dusting it off you found it had plenty of pictures for context, and at the very least it would give you something to busy yourself with as your tried to distract yourself from your newly acquainted grief.  

It felt a bit like survivor’s guilt, not that you personally remembered any of the other titans you often saw roaming around the island. You silently sighed as you thought of the other titans, you felt bad. They were all humans, you presume, stuck in your same predicament. Fighting and dreaming of freedom.  

The hours passed as you tried to read the words on the pages set before you. You found yourself not making much progress as you continuously had to wipe away your stinging tears from your lashes. Heavy steps descended the stairs as you hastily dried your eyes once more, hoping it won’t be too obvious that you’ve been crying.  

It was Erwin again, shadowed by Levi. Levi’s thin brow rose, he almost looked disgusted at your tears, or maybe he was taking pity. Either one, you didn’t truly want from the likes of him. Erwin, however, did look truly concerned for just a moment before hardening his expression to keep things professional.  

“Well, we won’t be able to learn anything from you until you learn to read and write. Thus, you’ll be staying here for the time being. I’ll visit periodically, but Captain Levi will be who you answer to for now.” He gave you a curt nod before taking his leave. Once again, Levi remained. The silence dragged on and you gave him a silent, yet fully exasperated sigh rolling your eyes in his direction.  

He scoffed before adjusting his cravat, his top lip twitching upward into a scowl of disdain.  

“I was about to pity you and be lenient, but forget it. Stop your crying and read, brat!” He spat, before sitting harshly onto the wooden chair he always claimed, He folded his arms over his chest and crossed his slender legs, one over the other. The two of you held each other’s gaze for a moment before you turned around harshly and began studying.  

With him babysitting you like this; it’s going to be a lot less pleasant. Hopefully it won't take you very long to relearn these skills, the faster you can distance yourself from this guy.  

<3

The hours stretched on in a deafening silence. The tension in the air was palpable and you hated it. Levi’s stern glare seemed to be burning holes in the back of your head, that made it hard to concentrate. How could he demand results whilst simultaneously making it so hard for you? He was difficult to put it nicely, but raging will do nothing to make your life more pleasant. The silence was suddenly interrupted by him, making you jump.  

“The Commander is really sticking his neck out for you. I don’t understand why.” He said, his irritation evident in every word that spilled past his lips. Your shoulders slumped at his words. Were you truly making their lives so hard? This wasn’t something you wanted. He waited a few beats before continuing, and icy chill to his tone.  

“I for one don’t trust you, if you can’t tell. You can warm up to Hange and Erwin all you want, but there's a reason I’m the one that’s in control here.” You shook your head slowly at his words, you’re not dumb. It’s clear as day he doesn’t trust you, and you don’t think the others completely trust you either and you understand their reasoning. At the very least, they try to see things from your perspective. Levi, however, seems like the type to enjoy a stick up the ass.  

“I’m watching you, because I won’t hesitate to kill you if you try anything.” He said, cocking his head to the side to attempt to see your expression. Sweat was beading at your brows, and you muscles tensed on reflex. You lived in fear before, but you still didn’t know how to cope with it. Will you ever be happy again?  

Slowly, you turned around to face Levi, eyes gleaming with fresh tears. Doing your best to ignore his words you decided to return the attention to your book. You wiped away at your eyes before you steeled your nerves to approach the man, pointing to a particularly confusing image on the page before you. He quirked his brow at the page, his eyes narrowing before he gliding up to meet your own. He held your stare for a moment, as if trying to scare you away but he quickly grew tired of the effort.  

“Those are the three walls that protect humanity from you titans.” Your eyes locked again briefly, before he continued his explanation. He was an insufferable human being but very smart, you had to admit. He explained everything thoroughly without missing a thing and you found the walls fascinated.  

“Is that all or do I have to read the entire book to you, brat?” He complained, bringing his tea cup to his lips. You gave him a short and obviously fake smile before rolling your eyes and returning to your bed, once again facing your back towards him as you studied the picture once more. Little did you know, Levi’s lips quirked up into a microscopic smirk behind his tea cup at your attitude. Though, even to himself he couldn’t admit that you were a little funny to watch sometimes.  

Sighing, Levi checked his pocket watch, it was due time for afternoon training. He lazily tossed a clean notepad and quill pen into your cell.  

“Practice your piss poor writing too brat.” He said, cup still held high up to his face before he downed the rest of his tea and you were left alone in the cellar once again.  

Once you were sure he was gone, you stuck out your tongue in childish protest before grabbing the notepad and pen. Scribbling and drawing ought to be more fun than reading this textbook you figured. The rest of your evening was spent in silence, until Hange brought you a late lunch with tea. She kept you company for a while, and it was something that helped to ease your anxiety. She explained in more detail what was planned for you here within the walls, and it's true, Erwin really was sticking his neck out for you, all of them were.  

Keeping you a secret from just about everybody in power until you could speak for yourself in a court of law. Your time with the Scouts would remain a secret even after then to keep from anyone getting in trouble. Seems the Scout’s get in enough trouble already, and housing a titan shifter for a second time would get them in a lot of trouble. Yet, for your own safety, they would put everything off until you could defend yourself properly, for that, you were eternally grateful and you wanted to thank him in person.  

Maybe even thank Levi, because, whether he wanted to or not, he was putting his own credibility on the line for you. As much as you dislike the man, you won't let his efforts go unappreciated. You thanked Hange for the food, conversation, and their protection with a bow, they simply waved you off.  

“It's no matter! There’s equal benefit for you, me, and humanity!” They exclaimed before marching up the stairs and heading off to handle reports. You smiled to yourself at their hospitality and friendliness. Today was a tough day, but a necessary one.  

This was your second chance at life, one you had lost hope at ever having. You weren’t going to waste it on fear, anxiety, and self-doubt. With newly found resolve, you drifted off into an early slumber, unaware of Captain Levi’s light foot falls descending the stair case.  

His dark eyes sliding to your sleeping form, having Hange talk to you was a good idea after all .  

[deejadabbles]

Touch (Yami/Atem x Reader)

Summary: Atem's love of affection became apparent to you rather early on, even before you two started dating. The touch-starved ex-pharaoh meant well of course, but, what happens when his affections lead you to realize that you're the exact opposite?

(or, to put it simply, an Atem stays AU where Atem's a touchy-feely cutie, but you have to work through the fact that you flinch and shy away when touched.)

AN: I've been wanting to do a little something centered around my headcanon that Atem's touch-starved for a while now, I just couldn't think of much of a plot until now. The reader's situation is based on my own experiences and feelings, my own "problems" with physical contact that I've been trying to work through. It was actually a bit therapeutic to write about and hopefully some of you guys identify with the reader, or are at least interested in the contrast between them and Atem <3

It became clear to you even as early as a month or two after Atem regained his body; after he was sent back to earth and freed to live his natural life with Yugi, you, and the rest of the gang. You suspected that he became more comfortable, once again being in his own skin and in possession of his memories, and that comforted state made him more willing to...indulge, or perhaps explore his own habits and wants.

You would have never suspected it, seeing as how the pharaoh had always been a bit distant in some ways. Always caring, supportive, and kind, of course, but distant. You would have never suspected it, but Atem was actually a rather touchy person.

It was never anything bad, never lewd or anything that crossed a line. Rather it was his hand on your shoulder paired with an encouraging squeeze. It was a gentle touch brushing between your shoulder blades as he came to stand beside you. His fingers wrapping around yours in a brief greeting, and maybe even lingering there as he smiled at you.

It wasn’t even just with you, he clapped Jonouchi on the back all the time, touched Anzu’s upper arm when she talked to him, hugged Yugi as often as he could. The list went on.

Still, despite the innocence of his touches and the fact that they weren’t directed solely at you, it made something of your own come to a sudden light. Something you hadn’t given much attention to, or even realized on a conscious level- not until you found yourself tensing against those gentle touches and flinching ever so slightly as his fingers brushed against you. You hadn’t ever realized it, but it seemed that had a bit of an issue with casual touching.

You hated your reactions, hated the way you seemed to instinctively recoil from him when he put his arm around you, or the way your very mind jolted when his hands touched yours. You hated it because you didn’t want to feel that way with Atem’s casual affections, you didn’t want to feel ill at ease or downright edgy and upset when he held you.

When you realized just how not-okay you actually were with touch, you did plenty of soul searching and reflecting on your past, wondering where this came from. There was perhaps an incident or two that might have led to this. Words said or an action done that had tarnished your association with physical contact, though you hadn’t realized it at the time, or the coming years since. Not until now.

It didn’t sit well with you at all. You wanted to like Atem’s displays, you wanted to not have those automatic reactions when he showed you those affections. He didn’t seem to notice at first, at least not before his casual touches became something more. Not before he was able to show you that he felt something more, for you.

When Atem kissed you for the first time, your body and heart were at strange odds. Your heart raced with want and elation, even as your shoulders shifted ever so slightly away from his hand as he stroked your back to pull you deeper into the kiss. You didn’t want to ruin that moment, that first wonderful kiss, because damn it you loved Atem and wanted to show him that you did.

He didn’t notice it then, but as one would suspect, after entering a relationship with each other, his affections only increased. He loved hugging you from behind, loved brushing your hair away from your face or neck so he could place a chaste kiss on your cheek or shoulder. And when you two sat together, even with friends, he seemed to almost always have a hand on you, rubbing gently across your knee, grazing the small of your back, or taking your hand in his own.

Atem hadn’t noticed your “issue” at first, but with that increased intimacy, it wasn’t long before he started to. Notice the way you tensed even as you hugged him back, or the barely noticeable flinch you gave when he rubbed your back even as you smiled at him; the way you seemed to pull away from his hands before you caught yourself.

He must have noticed eventually though, because before you knew it, Atem was starting to pull away. You noticed the way he’d reach out to you, just short of grazing his fingers across your side or taking your hand in his, before suddenly pulling back. You didn’t miss the way he shortened his hugs and lessened his chaste kisses; not lingering in the embrace nearly long enough and only giving you pecks on the cheek when you said goodbye. And though his consideration was appreciated and moved you, in the long run, you hated it. Hated that he felt like he had to deprive himself because of your reactions- especially since another part of you didn’t want him to pull away at all.

You wanted to be okay with touch, with his affections, you yearned for a day when you wouldn’t instinctively flinch away from his hands and hugs. Because no matter how or why you had that aversion, you wanted to be...better. You wanted to welcome his affections and return them in kind, but it seemed that simply wasn’t the case. Simultaneously craving touch as well as disliking it on some deep barely explored level, it was an odd situation to be in.

Slowly, you tried to get used to the physical contacts and did so by initiating them yourself. You actively told yourself to lean on his shoulder during quiet moments, to hug him with every greeting and parting, or reach out and take his hand as you walked. In some small way it might be working, but again, much like when he had first kissed you, your heart and the rest of your body were at odds.

One second you were wanting to sigh in content as you leaned against him and felt his arm wrap around you, but the next your skin started to prickle with an anxious unease. It was rather infuriating, honestly, the waring reactions making you want to scream! Perhaps you just needed time, but you wanted to be over this personal hurdle now. Or at least sooner rather than later.

***

It took Atem longer than he wanted to admit to notice it. Perhaps at first, when he had been granted a second chance at life, he was too caught up in his own reality, his own wants and habits. Having his own body as well as his memories back was astonishing at first and in some ways, he almost had to rediscover himself. In that discovery, he actively took notice to a quirk most may not expect a powerful pharaoh to have.

He noticed it in the way his hands reached out before he even thought, the way his skin tingled and warmed when someone hugged him back or touched him in turn. He remembered when he was young, how he had gravitated towards Mana not only for her bright and pure heart but because she was one of the few in the palace who never withheld her affections around him. He carried royal blood and, among his people, that made him a god- and mortals were not permitted to touch the body of a god so lightly.

There was a word for it in the modern age, and Atem admitted to himself quite early on that he was “touch starved”. His father had hugged and held him plenty when he was a child, but that decreased as he got older and most around him were barely willing to look him in the eyes, let alone show him any kind of affection that wasn’t verbal. He supposed five thousand years trapped alone in darkness didn’t help either. So much loneliness, endless and unyielding until the moment Yugi solved the puzzle, the mere memory of it still kept him awake some nights. No, it hadn’t helped at all. Nor did the years he spent as a specter, only able to view and receive the world through the lens of Yugi’s body. Even when others did hug him and clap him on the back when in control, it felt...numb in away. As if the skin not truly being his own made it impossible to truly feel touch the way he once had. And that only made him crave touch more.

It was easier now, with you, Yugi, and the rest of the gang. None of you cared that deeply about his (now irrelevant) royal status, and given how close he had become to all of you, no one seemed to think much of it when he brushed his fingers along a friend’s back or hugged someone just a second or two longer than most.

Then of course, there was the touch he wanted most. The rare times he felt you hug him back or give his hand a gentle squeeze before pulling away made him feel a level of warm content he has never experienced before. He should have noticed it then, long ago, but perhaps he was too caught up in how you made him feel to notice. And of course, he was too busy figuring out the best way to act on the feelings he’d had for you even as a spirit sharing Yugi’s body.

Now that he was his own man again, free to live a life of his own, there was little stopping him from finally showing you how deeply he cared for you- Well, little aside from his own failings when it came to romance. That department was the only place he seemed to become awkward and inept, but he pushed through it all the same!

The first time he had kissed you it felt like his body was soaring; his hand rubbing along your back and pulling you closer, your own fingers gripping his biceps as if you needed grounding or held up so you wouldn’t fall. And now that the door to romance was open, Atem could...indulge even more and sate his need for touch by holding your hand, pulling you into his arms, and planting loving kisses along your skin.

Well, that is until he finally took notice to something. To the fact that you didn’t exactly seem all that comfortable with physical contact.

He finally noted the way you almost- almost, seemed to pull away from him. The way you flinched when his hand brushed your side or slid across your stomach as he hugged you from behind. You always smiled at him and seemed to put effort into returning the affections, but he couldn’t ignore those reactions.

Never, not for one moment, did Atem want to make you uncomfortable. Perhaps you didn’t like how often he showed affection, perhaps you were simply uncomfortable with his kinds of affection, or perhaps it was something else entirely. Either way, Atem hated the idea of making you uneasy, no matter how much he craved you. So he pulled back, he made himself stop when he found himself snaking his arms around you, or brushing his hands against you. He still showed you affection, especially on the nights curled together on your couch, but he decreased it by a notable amount, and prayed you would forgive him for not noticing your discomfort sooner.

You must have taken notice of it because soon enough, you were increasing how often you initiated affection. More often than ever you pulled him into hugs, you reached out to take his hand or pressed your lips to his. And though he wanted to melt into your touch, he hated it. Hated that you felt the need to satisfy him at your own expense, hated that you thought you had to put aside your discomfort to appease him.

Atem loved you, by the gods did he love you, and he’d be damned if his love turned into a selfish one. He refused to cross your line of comfort, refused to let his own needs and wants override your boundaries. No matter how much he ached for you, no matter how elated your touch made him feel, he would not let you suffer for that, for him.

***

You stretched your arms over your head after taking the last bite of pizza, full and content. It was Friday, a night you and your beloved boyfriend always set aside for movies and some alone time. Hanging out with the gang was great and all, but sometimes a couple needed time to themselves. You caught the way Atem smiled before shifting his gaze back to the TV as you leaned back against your couch.

After a moment, you stole a glance at him, how relaxed he looked with his arm resting on the back of the couch and supporting his head as he watched the movie. He shifted slightly as you looked on, and you noted the way he almost (almost) seemed to lean in closer to you. You knew he was probably wanting, wishing to cuddle you close like he had so often on these nights alone.

You scooted closer until you were nestled under his arm and against his side, before resting your head on his chest. As if on instinct, Atem’s arm moved from supporting his head, to wrap tightly around you. His warmth felt nice and you could hear and feel the steady beating of his heart under your ear. However, you already sensed that irritating unease creeping up, waiting to crawl across your skin the longer he held you.

Then, you felt Atem heave a sigh and he whispered your name- before he pulled away!

You looked up at him, wide-eyed and mouth agape, “Atem? What’s wrong?”

He wasn’t looking at you, instead scratching the back of his neck as he sighed again, more frustrated this time. Finally, he looked at you again, but only for a moment before he breathed your name again and grabbed the tv remote. After smashing the pause button and setting the remote aside, he moved again and faced you fully.

“You don’t have to do that,” he said, tone firm, but gentle, almost abashed. “You don’t have to force yourself to show me affection like that.”

Your heart sank and an uneasy heat rose under your skin. So he had noticed, everything apparently, not only your discomfort but your efforts to push through said discomfort.

“Atem, I-”

“I’m sorry,” he cut in, averting his eyes, hands tightening as he shook his head. “I should have noticed sooner, how uncomfortable I was making you. I was being selfish, I didn’t even realize I was forcing my affections on you.”

“You weren’t!” your voice was louder than you had meant it to be, but you couldn’t help it with the borderline panic rising in your chest. “Atem, you weren’t- I mean I didn’t-” you cursed under your breath and ran a desperate hand over your face, trying to collect yourself. After a moment, you found your voice again and tried to push through the awkwardness. “Atem, I know you didn’t mean anything bad by it. You weren’t ‘forcing your affections’ on me. I get it, you’re a touchy person, I’m not going to hold that against you.”

“But now you feel like you have to put aside your own feelings to please me,” there was a bite in his tone and he still wasn’t looking at you, instead narrowing his eyes at the coffee table. “I don’t want you to feel that way. I love you, and I want to respect your boundaries, I want to respect you .”

A not entirely unwelcome fluttering started in your chest. You really had won the boyfriend lottery with Atem. After a few beats of silence, you whispered his name and reached out, brushing your hand along his cheek until he finally looked at you, gorgeous eyes meeting your own.

“The truth is, I want to be as affectionate as you. I want to be okay with your PDA and touches- damn it I really really do! I hate that I can’t reciprocate, hate that I can’t even really control how I respond. But I’m trying to get better with it. Yeah, part of it was because I wanted to make sure you weren’t...unsatisfied in the affection department, but it wasn’t just that. I want to be more affectionate too. I want to sit here and cuddle with you for hours, I want to hold your hand while we’re walking down the street, I want to rest my head on your shoulder while we’re spending time with the gang- I want all of it! I think...I think I just need time. Time and practice.”

You took a deep breath, feeling a bit shaky from your mini-rant, then your hand fell from his cheek to take his hand in yours. He finally seemed to ease a little, his shoulders losing some of their tenseness and he leaned in a bit closer.

He whispered your name again, “I just...I don’t want to push you. Promise me you will take your time with this? If you want to hold my hand or be held, that would be nice, but only if you want to. I can wait until you’re completely comfortable in my arms.”

You smiled at him, feeling as though something achy was finally being lifted from your whole body. It felt nice, to be honest and open. Then you leaned in and pressed your lips to his, relishing the way his breath caught in his throat and how he moved in perfect sync with you. The hand holding yours tightened a bit, and a jerk of movement indicated that he was wanting to do something with his free hand too. To test the proverbial waters, and also genuinely wanting to deepen the kiss, you took his free hand in yours and guided him to cup your face. His thumb ran along your cheek and he moaned a little when you nipped at his bottom lip.

“I promise,” you whispered against his lips sometime later, “promise I’ll take my time getting better at this. I love you.”

“I love you too,” he breathed, pressing his forehead to yours as he continued to stroke your cheek.

The two of you lingered there for a while, simply enjoying each other and this open, honest state. Then eventually, Atem pulled back and gave you a small smile.

“I could tell you were getting tense in my embrace earlier, so we don’t have to cuddle during the rest of the movie if you don’t want to.”

You bit your lip, mulling over the truth of his words, even as you wished they weren’t true. “I think I’d be okay with holding hands while we’re sitting here, if that’s okay.”

Atem’s smile softened and he began shifting his pose back towards the TV, “I would like that.”

You settled back into a more comfy position too as he pressed play, one hand resting in your lap, the other holding his as he gently, rather absentmindedly, stroked the back of your hand with his thumb. Only a minute or so passed before you got a certain almost whimsical urge. You brought your clasped hands up and pressed a chate kiss to the back of Atem’s hand, before dropping them back to his lap. You relished the almost bashful smile he flashed you, since a bashful Atem was a rare Atem.

Yeah, it may take some time, but being with a man who was equal parts respectful and loving, you were pretty confident you could reach that higher level of affectionate someday.

[98prilla]

Birthday

Next

Previous

AO3

The next little part of my Darkside Logan series! Enjoy!

...

He wakes to a wild screech, glitter and party popper streamers raining from the ceiling, an incredibly loud noise maker going off, fireworks exploding against the ceiling, in pops of deep indigo and silver sparks. He raises an eyebrow as he sits up, stretching, lips twitching into a smile at Remus whooping and cartwheeling around his room, finally coming to a stop in front of him, clapping his hands and bouncing on the balls of his feet.

 “Good morning to you as well, Remus. That was quite an impressive show.” He says evenly, the last of the glitter settling on the ground around him. “I do hope you’ll clean that up later, otherwise it’ll get everywhere.” He yelps as Remus pulls him to his feet and into a waltz, disembodied music drifting through the room, laughing as Remus spins him quicker than his mind can process, dipping him low to the ground. Then Remus swears, and he feels the balance shift, and they’re both on the floor, Remus landing atop him in a tangle of limbs, both of them erupting into startled laughter.

 “Not that you need a reason, but this seems like extra effort, even for you. What’s the occasion?” He asks, once they both get their laughter under control, untangling from each other as Remus helps him back to his feet, grin wide and wild, practically vibrating with energy.

 “Cygie! You really don’t know!?” Remus exclaims, linking arms with Cygnus as they leave his room, slowly walking down the hall to their kitchen.

 “Hmm… nothing comes to mind?” Remus squeals, pulling him faster towards the dark commons, Cygnus’s breath leaving him in a rush as he takes in the state of the room.

 It’s decorated with indigo and silver streamers draped in intricate knots across the ceiling. There’s an archway made of black and blue balloons over the entry way to the kitchen, sparkling silver stars dotting the walls, glittering tape tracing constellations in them. And across the wall, above the couch, is a hand made, hand painted, beautifully caligrohpied sign.

 “Happy birthday, Cygnus.” Janus says, echoing the sign, emerging from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel, watching him appraisingly.

 He can’t seem to find his words.

“Cyg?” Remus asks softly, coming around his front, taking both of his hands, and he realizes his eyes are watering, on the verge of tears. “Oh shit, did we fuck up? I’m sorry, was it the glitter? Was it the penis I hid in the happy bday sign?”

 “WHAT?!” Janus squawks indignantly at that, and Logan lets out a laugh, shaking his head, because he loves these two, so much, and he’s trying to regain his composure enough to explain.

 “No, I… it’s wonderful. I just… I’ve never celebrated, my birthday before. I never… kept track, with them. I… it’s been a year, already?” He asks, looking between Remus and Janus, who are sharing slightly horrified and slightly concerned looks.

 “You never… they never did anything for you? Not even Patton?” Remus asks, his voice so high it’s nearly at a pitch only dolphins can hear. He shakes his head, looking away.

 “There were more important things to attend to. I didn’t want to distract everyone. No one… remembered, anyway, so I just… stopped, keeping track.” He explains, not protesting as Remus pulls him into a tight hug.

 “Well. Your happiness and self worth are very much more important than having a productive day. If Roman gets a full week of birthday shenanigans, the least they could have done was give you a day, sweetling.” Janus adds softly, joining the hug for a brief moment, before pulling back, wiping away Cygnus’s tears, a soft smile on his face. “you deserve it, Cygnus. You work so hard, darling. You deserve to be pampered and fawned over for at least a day.”

 “Every day must be my birthday then.” He answers, smiling at Janus’s soft laugh, who ruffles his hair as he passes by.

 “Oh, you haven’t seen nothin yet, my starry night! Today is going to be a nonstop orgy of Cygnus appreciation! To Breakfast!” Remus screeches, sprinting into the kitchen, from which loud crashing emerges a moment later, along with a muffled “I’m okay!” That has Janus shaking his head with an exasperated smile as he follows Remus into the kitchen, ready to manage whatever mess he’d made.

…

A year.

 It has been a year. One whole year. Three hundred and sixty five days. Five hundred, twenty five thousand, six hundred minutes. Thirty one million, five hundred thirty six thousand seconds.

 It hasn’t felt like that long. Or maybe it has felt longer, with all the changes taking place in the mindscape. He’s not really sure, but it sure is giving him a bit of a strange sense of vertigo, right now.

 It’s almost impossible, to compare where he is now to where he was a year ago, two years ago. He’s… happy. He’s so much happier than he’s ever been before, he feels appreciated, he feels loved, he feels listened to. He’s not working himself to near death every single day without giving himself any breaks. He’s not pretending to be a machine, not denying his emotions anymore. He’s smiling, he’s laughing, he’s crying, he’s… learning, how to express himself, to understand his emotions, and always, always, Remus and Janus were patient and considerate and there for him.

 His relationships with the others are also probably better than they have ever been before. He was right, when he told Patton so long ago that they would do better as friends than as family. That the distance would be good for them.

 Everyone is making progress, in leaps and bounds, in acknowledging their own faults, in realizing their own shortcomings, in accepting their flaws and reaching out for help. It helps, he supposes, that there are now two sides who can, in a way, sense lies. Neither him nor Janus will let the others get away with denying their needs or wants, not when it’s important, anyways, and slowly, everyone is getting into the habit of simply… not hiding.

 Patton is open, about his bad days. The days he calls ‘gray days’, where the world doesn’t seem to shine, where nothing feels right or good, and he can’t see a point to getting out of bed. He’s devised several signals, clear markers with everyone that show a day is gray, so he doesn’t have to say it, to speak it out loud, because even that is too hard, somedays, it’s easier to just leave a frowny face sticker on his door, and the first one to see it tells everyone else, who take turns spending time with him, coaxing him into activities, or at least out of bed, slowly driving the apathy away.

 Roman is still trying to find himself. To rebuild himself, from the crushing defeat and existential crisis of the wedding, and everything it resulted in. He still struggles to admit when he’s struggling, still finds it hard to portray anything other than the happy, peppy persona, but he doesn’t pull back, run, anymore, when someone calls him out. If someone asks how he’s feeling, how he’s doing, Roman won’t paste on a smile and chirp out an answer. He’ll let his mask fall, and answer honestly. It’s too hard, yet, to bring it up himself, so the others are learning to ask, making sure to ask, making sure to not simply brush Roman’s worries or frustrations aside. He’s happier, too, Cygnus knows, the time spent writing with Thomas has him happier than he’s been in years, and more and more days the answer to how he’s feeling is on the okay side of the scale.

 Virgil… has stayed much the same, outwardly. But he spends more time, now, with Remus and Janus, and… himself. They’ve talked, quite a lot, actually. He explained his history with the other two dark sides, why he acted how he had towards them, had explained too about his old, unhealthy, habits, how he still struggles, every once in a while, though he hasn’t given in and done it in years. He’d hugged Virgil then, it was maybe the bravest thing the anxious side had ever done, telling him that, telling him everything, apologizing for how he’d reacted, the first time he had appeared to all of them, as Ambition. He’d found it impossible, not to forgive him. Overall, he’d handled it the best out of any of them.

 And Thomas.

 He’s so proud of Thomas. He’s taken everything in stride. He’s making time for himself, making time to spend individually with every side.

 He’s writing with Roman, and also with Remus, working with him to express his horrifying ideas in darkly comedic ways, countering Roman’s fairy tale quests and happy endings.

 He’s watching movies with Virgil, or swapping music with him, listening to him spout off about his favorite bands, favorite lyrics. They’ve broken out the karaoke machine a couple times, singing at the top of their lungs, dancing like fools around the living room until they’re breathless from laughing. Virgil’s smile is becoming a more and more common sight.

 He’s crafting with Patton, the fatherly side teaching him how to knit and crochet, which Patton is an expert at, fawning over every one of Thomas’s haphazard attempts at a scarf or pot holder. While their hands are busy, they talk, about anything and everything. They’re even attempting to learn how to cook together, though that often ends with the smoke alarm going off. They’re not allowed to cook unsupervised anymore, usually Virgil or Janus keeping things from getting too out of hand from the living room couch.

 He’s playing video games with Janus, who loves to pick out the strange, indie games, the ones with ambiguous story lines, twist endings, choices that affect the game, affect the people in it. They discuss undertale for hours, Janus going on an hour long monolague of Flowey’s morality, his take on how much influence Asriel actually has on Flowy, when he’s soulless, surprised that Thomas pays attention the whole time, just as into the game as he is. They play A Way Out together, and Thomas actually throws the controller at the plot twist, shock on his face, as he’s forced to battle Janus, who is laughing the whole time at his indignant spluttering and shocked expression, Janus absolutely annihilating him.

 And himself. Thomas hadn’t been lying, when he said nothing changed, between the two of them, just because he is now Ambition. Thomas hasn’t shied away from him, hasn’t excluded him. He’s made time for him, as well. He’d bought a telescope, and set it up in the backyard. They go stargazing together, Cygnus pointing out the planets, when visible, the constellations, passing comets, relaying their history and myths, Thomas asking questions at every turn, until their conversation was somewhere else entirely, talking about anything and everything. They’d also started a bit of a book club, as Thomas called it, though it was really just the two of them. Each month they took turns giving the other a book to read, and then they’d discuss it. He usually sticks to the classics, the three muskateers, moby dick, the jungle book, and he was a bit surprised at how fast Thomas took to them, how much he enjoyed them, enjoyed discussing them. Thomas’s choices surprise him sometimes, too. It’s not always another adventure novel, sometimes it’s the original book of Wicked, or a nonfiction book about the history of cartoon animation, he varies more than Cygnus would have guessed, and he’s surprised at how… entertained, he is, by Thomas’s choices, the ones he would never have picked to read himself.

 But most importantly, most incredibly, were the others. Patton, Roman, Logan, Virgil. They had all, individually, apologized, for the way they had treated him, talked over him, ignored him, silenced him. And they were proving they meant it. Every day, they were proving they meant those apologies. They were listening to him. Listening to each other. Everyone has an equal voice, now, and everything feels… good.

 So why, does it having been a year, make him feel so… strange? It’s not sadness, not even nostalgia, really, it’s… something melancholy. Something a bit happy, something a bit sad, something a bit wistful.

 “Cygnus? Are you alright?” He blinks away his thoughts, realizing he’s been staring at his plate of pancakes for a solid five minutes without taking a bite. They look delicious, topped with sugared berries and warm syrup.

 “Just… lost in thought. These are from your garden, correct? Hopefully the non venomous section.” He answers, looking up at Remus, who’s shoveling pancakes topped with caramel and rainbow sprinkles into his mouth, who swallows hugely, nodding.

 “Yuppers! And I did pick the ones that won’t kill you, just for your b-day, cygie! At least, they should be mostly non toxic. Let me know if your tongue starts tingling.” Remus answers, and Cygnus chuckles, cutting into his pancakes.

 “I will take that into account.”

…

He doesn’t know what he’s doing, when he wanders up the stairs, towards the light side living room. He doesn’t even intend to go there, really, it’s just… where he’s drawn.

 “Ambition. We, uh, didn’t expect you, so early.” Roman says, peeking out of the living room, moving to lean against the doorframe, blocking his view of it before he could see anything.

 “Roman. You are acting… strange?”

 “Me? Wha? No, I’m being perfectly normal! Because you, Ambition, is here!” He sputters, saying the last sentence far too loud to be normal. He’s about to reply, when Patton’s head appears, shooing Roman out of the way.

 “You, go finish the… the project! Ok, Roman?” Roman nods, scurrying back into the living room, Patton taking his place blocking the doorway.

 “Is everything alright, Patton?” He asks, slightly amused, and only mildly concerned at a distant curse from Virgil.

 “Uh huh! Just finishing up something! What brings you here, Ambition? Not that it isn’t good to see you, and you’re of course welcome here all the time, but why on this particular day at this particular moment have you chosen to come visit?” Patton squeaks, his tone rising in pitch until it was nearly above human hearing.  

 “Are you alright, Patton?” He asks, trying to gauge what exactly has everyone so on edge.

 “Yup! Just waiting for the ok!”

 “The okay for what?”

 “We’re ready!” Roman calls, and Patton steps aside.

 “The ok for this.” Patton says softly, stepping aside and ushering him into the living room. For the second time this day, all the air escapes his lungs, and his hands cover his mouth to stifle whatever noise is trying to escape, he can’t tell if it’s a sob or a laugh or something in between.

 The room is decorated with glow in the dark stars, blue and white flowers climb the walls on deep green vines, blooming from the cracks in the plaster, filling the room with the sweet smell of summer. On the table sits a cake, carefully air blown a blue ombre, constellations carefully traced across it in silver gilding, it must have taken hours. He can feel the tears slipping down his face, knows everyone is trying to figure out what to do.

 “Ambition. Can I hug you?” Virgil asks, stepping into his field of view, and he nods, letting Virgil wrap his arms around him, surprising even himself as he hugs back, face buried in his shoulder. He feels Roman’s arms wrap around him from behind, Patton’s joining a moment later, surrounding him in warmth.  

 “you remembered. I… you’ve never…”

 “We know. I know, Amby. And we’re so sorry.” Roman murmurs, pulling back.

 “I know this doesn’t make up for that, for all those years… but we thought maybe, maybe this could be part of starting over. Of being better.” Patton adds, smiling through his own teary eyes as he pats Ambition’s shoulder, before pulling away as well, Ambition finally emerging from Virgil’s embrace, swiping at his eyes.

 “Yes. I would… like that.” He mumbles, still a bit awestruck.

 “Oh, let’s get Janus and Remus, for presents!” He frowns slightly at that, stepping back.

 “Did they put you up to this?” He asks, voice trembling, and he hears Janus’s soft laugh from the doorway.

 “No, sweetling. This was all them. We didn’t tell them a thing.” Janus murmurs, appearing with a swish of his cape, Remus thundering up the stairs behind him.

 “Nice digs! Not nearly as sweet as our decorations of course, but you tried!” Roman splutters indignantly at that, squaring off against his twin.

 “Please! I bet I could plan a party better than you, any day!”

 “Maybe if it was for babies. Can you even make a cocktail?”

 “Of course! I know how to mix drinks, Remus.” Remus grinned, eyes swirling.

 “I was thinking more of an entrée.”  He replies with a smirk and shoulder shimmy.

 “Remus.” Janus says, exasperated, glancing at Patton.

 “It’s alright. He’s just excited! I’m sure you’d throw very interesting parties, Remus. If… if you promise not to make it too scary, maybe you and Virgil could team up for a Halloween one.” Patton suggests, laughing as Remus squeals, launching himself into Virgil's arms, who catches him instinctually in a Scooby-Doo like hold, before dropping him like a hot potato.

 “What the heck, dude!?”

 “Can we? It’ll be like old times, you and me, creating horrors and monsters and creeping lurking things? Pleaaaaase?” Virgil snorts as Remus bats his eyelids at him, rolling his eyes.

 “Yeah, sure, whatever.” He mutters in agreement, trying to contain his own grin as Remus whoops, spinning him around in a circle, already babbling about ideas. It’s good, to see them laughing together.

 “I believe someone said something about presents?” Janus drawls, resting a hand on Cygnus’s back, gently leading him to sit down on the couch. Instantly, everyone else crowds around, clamoring over who gets to go first, and he’s crying again, because not only are they giving him attention, they’re fighting for his attention, and he supposes he should feel guilty about liking it, but Janus has rubbed off on him, a bit, so he just smiles, instead.

 Before anyone else can, Roman shoves a box into his hands, grinning at having gotten in ‘the first gift’, everyone settling as he stares at the shimmery blue wrapping paper. Tentatively, he peels back the paper, removing the cardboard top of the small box, eyes widening.

 It’s a large, blue star sapphire, embedded in a silver filigree, hanging from a silver chain. He lifts it, slightly awestruck, turning it over as his thumb feels grooves against the back, tilting his head to decipher the writing, discovering it’s his name, Ambition, in circular galifreyan.

 “Did I get the spelling right? I looked up several guides, but there’s a lot of rules and such.” Roman asks, no doubt nervous at his silence.

 “It’s… it’s perfect, Roman. Thank you.” He says softly, slipping the chain over his head, the pendant resting just above his heart. He looks up in time to see Roman’s blush, his expression so tenderly soft, looking at him, that he clears his throat and looks away.

 “Me next! Ours are a set!” Remus interrupts, shoving another box into his hands, slightly larger than the previous one, though much the same weight. “Ro had the idea, and we coordinated our results!” He chirps, as Cygnus pulls open the box, a soft grin already on his face.

 It’s a silver circlet, with a teardrop blue diamond that will sit in the center of his forehead, and engraved along the inside of the circlet is more galifreyan, this time that reads ‘cygnus’. The band is thin and light, but sturdy, and he knows the engraving must have taken a long time, to do by hand, requiring a lot of patience and focus.

 “It’s wonderful.” He murmurs, slipping it onto his head, finding the weight odd, but rather comforting. His past self would have scoffed, at these items, said he didn’t desire to play pretend, to play dress up, and what was the point of them? But he knows better, now, has more confidence in himself and expressing himself, now, and he knows he’ll rarely be seen without them on, he loves them already.

 “Wow, ok, well, way to make a side feel wholly inadequate. Um, here, I guess.” Virgil mumbles nervously, depositing a tissue paper wrapped item in his lap. “It’s not much, compared to, that, but-“ Virgil cuts himself off with a shrug, toeing the floor nervously as he unwraps the paper.

 It’s a photo. He’s in the kitchen, head thrown back, laughing. Remus is a blur of green movement in the background, chasing a blur of red, a pot is boiling over on the stove, Patton frantically stirring it, trying to scold the twins from over his shoulder, and somehow Janus is hissing from atop the fridge, clearly having climbed up there to escape the shenanigans below. He smiles, running his thumb over the frame, touched that Virgil had thought to capture that moment, one of the first moments of happiness since everything had happened, one of the first times they’d all been together, and all let themselves go.

 “I love it, Virg. I… thank you.” He murmurs, low and sincere, and a small smile creeps across Virgil’s face as he nods, tension leaking out of his shoulders.

 Janus is next, his simple, a book Cygnus has been meaning to read for ages, but he knows it’s really an invitation for a debate, or perhaps to set up a lecture in the mindscape theater, an open invitation for a day spent ranting and raving and arguing and debating, until they’re both too tired to continue, losing their thoughts mid sentence, trying to string together coherent points at three am. He sets it aside with a small nod and smile, all Janus needs, to know he’s understood, and appreciates it.

 Patton is last, but not least, not in the slightest, as he sits down on the couch beside him, nervously running his hand up and down the couch.

 “Mine’s a bit… a bit of a group project, I suppose.” He says, handing the package to Cygnus. It’s bigger than the others, with a bit more weight to it, as well, a card taped atop the paper wrapped package. The front has a rough drawing, of all of them together, holding hands. Inside it says ‘Ambition. You’ll always be a part of my heart. Happy birthday, kiddo. Love you.’ With doodles of butterflies and stars and planets.

 He's already smiling warmly at that, as he carefully sets it aside, opening the package to find a large book. On the cover is space for a photo to be inserted, and he recognizes it immediately, it’s a selfie Thomas took with all of them. The cover is patterned in silver constellations, the background a deep blue, and curiously, he flips it open, finding the cover is signed by Patton, Virgil, and Roman, who have all written short notes to him, expressing their support, their love, their pride, in who he is becoming, in his own self. His hand is shaky as he turns the page, finding it decorated with stickers and intricate doodles outlining the edges of the pages, the edges of the photographs, each of the three of them recounting what was going on in each picture, leaving their own commentary, witty and sarcastic and heartfelt, on each photo of him smiling, them as a group, him stargazing with Thomas, Him and Janus in the debate room, eyes flashing as they argue, him on stage, wearing safety goggles, Remus helping him with an experiment, him and Patton, decorating cookies, Roman dragging him through the imagination, to search for dragons, a thousand memories and moments and smiles, genuine smiles, all put in one place, all outlined with drawings, all filled in with their words and laughter and remembrances, and he’s shaking, again, a hand over his mouth as he puts the book aside, not wanting tears to stain the pictures, to smear the ink, he wants it to stay perfect and pristine forever, he hadn’t realized they were taking pictures, hadn’t realized they’d cared to memorialize his happiness, hadn’t realized that those moments meant just as much to them as they did to him. Hadn’t realized how much they meant it, when they said they truly, deeply, cared.

 “Oh, kiddo. Can I?” Patton asks, arms open, and he nods, letting Patton sweep him up into a hug, letting himself squeeze back, breath hitching. “I love you so much, Ambition, and I’m so… I’m so proud of you. I’m so proud of all you’ve done, and how far you’ve come, and much you pushed all of us to be better, you’re so good, Amby, you’ve always been the best of us. And I’m just… I’m so glad, to see you so happy, kiddo. That’s all I’ve ever wanted, for any of you, is to be happy. You’re a part of this family, kiddo, and we love you, we all love you, so, so much.” Patton murmurs, as he feels others joining the hug, surrounding him in warmth and arms and soft assurances from all sides, overwhelming him, with their support, their love, their affection. It’s everything, this is everything he’d ever hoped for, been too afraid to ask for, been denied, as Logan.

 But this… they’d done this. All by themselves, they’d done this, they’d remembered, they’d gone out of their way, to do this for him, they’ve been doing it for the entire year, every day, and he realizes, suddenly, that he’s started trusting them again. That he wants this to truly be a new start, this, today, here, is the last bit of proof that he needed, to show him they mean it, they mean their words and promises about doing better, they mean their I love you’s and affection, they put weight behind their words, and followed through, and he thinks maybe it’s time he does the same.

 So despite himself, he pulls away from the hug, smiling at the mild cursing that comes with the twins trying to disentangle themselves from around him, taking a moment to wipe away the tears from his eyes, to take a deep breath, to compose himself. His heart is pounding, irrational fear biting at his heels, and he thinks Janus understands, the leap of faith he is about to take, can sense what he is about to do, and he slips his hand into his to steady him.  

 “I… have something, I would like to say.” He says, softly, voice a bit tremulous, but the others all give him encouraging nods, and once again, he’s shocked at the difference between now and then, everyone staying silent, giving him space to speak, willing to listen. “I know this hasn’t been easy. I know… I know it hurt, in a lot of different ways, everything… everything that’s happened. But instead of pulling further away, this pulled all of us closer together, and I’m… I’m proud, of everyone, for it. You’ve all grown, so much, and I just… just thank you. Thank you for meaning it, when you said you would work harder, listen more, be better. Thank you for doing it, for showing it, for giving me, for giving each other, the room to grow. The support that was necessary, for that growth to happen.” He pauses, taking in a deep breath, feeling everyone’s eyes on him.

 He realizes suddenly he’d never gotten a proper name reveal before. Before, when they all chose names, he just picked the easiest one to remember, he hadn’t seen a point, to personalizing it. And Patton had called him Logan in front of Thomas, thus accidentally stealing that moment from him, that choice, to share it or not. He’s never had to worry, about a reaction, about the weight of it, about the consequences. Then Janus squeezes his hand, and he exhales, looking up at each of them for a long moment, seeing the question, the hesitation, the dawning understanding where this is going, in Virgil’s eyes.

 “So I think… I think it’s time we start over, properly. No more hiding. No more secrets. No more… titles. My name… my name is Cygnus Ambition Sanders.” He’s barely finished the sentence, when Patton is barreling into him once again, wrapping him in a tight hug, tears falling though he’s grinning hugely as he pulls away, eyes shining behind his glasses.

 “Thank you. Cygnus, thank you.” Patton says softly, practically bouncing in excitement, the air radiating with his joy and delight and heart stopping love.

 “It suits you, teach.” Virgil says simply, though he wears one of his rare, open, lopsided grins, eyes warm and soft as he looks at him, somehow warming his heart more, because he knows Virgil understands, what it means, how much it means, that he’s shared his name. Virgil has been there, in much the same position he himself is now in, and he relaxes slightly at his approval.

 “Cygnus.” Roman murmurs, seemingly a bit dazed by the revelation, though the name sounds like music on his lips, making Cygnus’s ears burn red, as Roman sweeps him up, spinning and dipping him, a mirror of Remus this morning, god was it only this morning? And he remembers once more just how similar the twins are, though they’re both loathe to admit it. He laughs as Roman sets him upright once more, pressing close in a moment long hug, steady and firm and grounding. “thank you, Cygnus. You’re so brave, and we’re so, so lucky, to have you with us.” He murmurs, before stepping away. “See Remus! That’s how you do a dip!” He yells at his brother, who’s grinning ear to ear, laughing.

 “But it’s so much more fun to drop them!” Still, Remus sweeps him into a hug as well before skipping off, trying to steal frosting off the cake, if Virgil’s indignant screech and subsequent pounding of footsteps chasing is anything to go by.

 Janus pulls him close, pressing a soft kiss to the top of his head before leaning forwards until their foreheads touch, resting against each other, his hand stroking back a stray piece of hair, lingering against his cheek in a pleasant warmth.

 “Proud of you, lovely. You’ve done so well, Cygnus, you really have.” He smiles, not pulling away.

 “You know this doesn’t change anything, correct? I’m not moving back. I’m not leaving you and Remus. I will never.” He murmurs back, a promise, ringing with truth, and he feels some of the tension washing out of Janus.

 “Of course. Now, let’s cut into that cake before Remus decides to shove the entire thing into his gaping maw.” He laughs, stepping back, letting Janus lead them back into the fray the party has become, smiling at the single candle atop the cake, Patton struggling with the lighter, before Virgil gently pries it away, lighting the candle in one go, despite muttering about it being a fire hazard and the whole house going up in flames, Janus wrangling the twins out of their chase to sing happy birthday, both of them trying to outdo each other with riffs, though they finally do actually finish the song together, harmonizing the last few lines.

 Staring at the lit candle, at the joyful, expectant faces around him, Cygnus realizes he only has one single wish, as he blows out the candle.

 That every day, could be this perfect.

[ak47stylegirl]

Life Changes: Chapter 16

Chapter 16 is done! wooohoo! XD 

This fic is dedicated to @gumnut-logic (also thanks Nutty for letting me use Jack XD) 

The rest of the chapters can be found here. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter! XD

----

Virgil pov

He rolled over in bed, staring blankly out at the city skyline; the sun having risen long ago. Three days have passed since that dreadful night, and Alan still hasn't woken up. 

Their baby brother had fallen in to a coma. 

The doctors had started to suspect that Alan could have suffered undetected brain damage, ordering brain scans to be performed. And as it became clear that Alan wasn’t going to wake up any time soon, the hospital had moved him to a more secure, more permanent room in the ICU.

Where they could visit him freely and without restrictions on how many of them could see him at a time. Kayo had also doubled their security immensely in the last couple of days, doing background checks on all of the hospital staff. 

And it was no surprise to any of them that Dr Jim Smith was on the list of ‘don’t come ten feet near Alan or you die’ list. Kayo had been very insistent on that. As well as background checks, Kayo had also (somehow?!) compiled a team of vetted and trained security guards for them.  

There were three guards standing watch outside their hotel room right now, along with two more guarding Alan’s hospital room. Plus Kayo, who insisted on protecting Alan personally and not even hell freezing over would change her mind. 

And in a sense, Kayo was also guarding Scott, who had barely left Alan’s side; only leaving to eat, sleep and take bathroom breaks. Even Grandma couldn’t get him to leave on the threat of home cooking…

Which wasn’t a threat that you take lightly, she would actually follow up on it but even that time old trick has lost its magic in the last few days. Their world was falling apart, and a little bit of burnt food didn’t scare them like it used to. 

The hospital was encouraging them to talk to Alan like he was awake and could hear them, that hearing their voices could help him regain consciousness. 

But he couldn’t even step foot in the hospital after seeing Alan laid out on that hospital bed; Neck in a brace, unable to breathe on his own, almost lifeless in his stillness. 

He had stumbled out of the ICU and into Scott’s arms, sobbing his heart out on his big brother’s shoulder. Repeating over and over again that he was to blame, that it was all his fault!

Scott had pushed him away slightly, his hands placed firmly on his shoulders with an almost furious look in his eyes. “It is not your fault, Virgil!” His brother had snapped, blue eyes ablaze with emotions. 

“There nothing-” Scott’s voice cracked, wavering slightly, “-you could have done, so please stop this…” 

He had been so startled by...well the fact that Scott had been pleading with him, begging him to stop blaming himself, that he had just nodded mindlessly. He was just so tired at that point, that he just wasn’t going to fight Scott on it.

That first night, he was in such a state of distress that the only way he was even able to fall asleep was because Grandma had chosen to sit by his bedside until he fell asleep; effectively comforting him enough that he was able to finally fall into a much needed deep sleep.

He was a complete wreck of his normal self. All while falling asleep that first night, all he could think about was how much of a failure he was. And he still was thinking that, because he couldn’t even muster up the will to get out of bed. 

It was like his mind and body had just shut down completely. Before he was feeling too many emotions; now, he was struggling to feel anything. He couldn’t sleep, he couldn’t eat…

Every time he closed his eyes, he would see his baby brother bleeding out on that gala floor or on that hospital bed, so still, so lifeless…

And with every day that passed with no sign of Alan waking, his nightmares got worse and worse. He knew John and Gordon had noticed, how could they possibly not have? They were sleeping just a bed or two across from him.

He hated that he was worrying his brothers, because why else would they be here with him when they could be at Alan’s bedside instead? He thought with a sigh, looking over at his brothers, who were sitting on the bed across from him. 

John was sitting in the corner of the bed, legs crossed as he furiously typed away at his tablet.  All while ignoring Gordon, who was spread lengthways across the bed, half-heartedly strolling through his phone. 

The room was filled with an anxious boredom as they waited for Grandma or Scott to call them with some form of news on the results of Alan’s brain scans. 

But the nearly endless wait was driving them stir-crazy…

When will they hear some news? And would they like what they may hear? If he was being honest, he was dreading that phone call. Because what if the results came back positive? 

Hasn’t Alan suffered enough? 

“Honestly!?” Gordon yelled, causing him to jump and look over at his brother, who was glaring at his phone. “you would think they would have better things to report on then our family!” 

“Unfortunately” John lowered his tablet with a weary sigh. “Anything happening to our family is front-page news to those people..”

Gordon scowled, throwing his phone down on the bed; missing John by a thin margin. “Well, I don’t care if it's front-page news or whatever, why can’t they just say out of it?!” 

Gordon’s face crumbled slightly as he moved into a sitting portion, hugging his knees. “His face is plastered all over the interwebs John…” Gordon whispered, his voice losing its anger and in its place was an immense sadness. 

“Along with those grainy photos of Virg-” Gordon frozen, suddenly realising that he was, in fact, awake and looking right at him “Um, I mean-”   

He sighed deeply, forcing himself to sit up, “You mean those cellphone photos of me desperately trying to keep Alan from bleeding to death?” He answered almost emotionlessly as he rubbed at his face tiredly. “I have seen them already, Gords..”

He couldn’t even turn the TV on or go on his phone without getting blasted with reminders of what happened. And even then the news networks would be blasting it from the tallest skyscrapers. 

It was like it was haunting him everywhere he went... 

He frowned slightly, moving so he was sitting on the edge of the bed. He could feel John’s eyes on him, scrutinising him like he was a complex math problem John was trying to figure out. He didn’t like it...

“Um...yeah, those photos…” Gordon mumbled, rubbing his arm nervously, his eyes flickering between looking at him and not looking at him; Gordon’s reddish-brown eyes filled with barely masked concern.  

Everybody has been giving him that look lately…

Gordon looked over at John, “Can’t you or Jack do anything about it? Like maybe get them taken down?”  Jack was their lawyer and a pretty good one at that. 

John sighed again, shaking his head. “Jack is already flat out busy with making sure the people responsible for all of this get life in prison..” John explained, his frustration and fury at the people responsible for hurting their little brother clear in his voice. “Doesn’t help that the GDF is being difficult…”

“Difficult?” He wondered softly; his curiosity peaked, “how so? I thought It would be clear and easy?” 

They attempted to kill Allie; the GDF should easily see that they deserved to get life in prison? 

John’s eyes flashed to him again with that same masked concern in them as Gordon’s eyes had. “You would think so, but the higher-ups of GDF are thinking of treating this as an attempted robbery gone wrong, rather than attempted manslaughter because, well-” John hesitated, avoiding their eyes. 

“Because?” Gordon questioned. 

John sighed wearily, looking up at them with a deadly serious expression, “-Because apparently to them there isn’t enough proof to prove that Alan getting shot was intentional...” 

His eyes widened in horror. 

What?!

“What?!” Gordon exclaimed, jumping up from the bed in outrage “Not enough proof?! Alan is in a coma and paralysed because of that asshole!” Angry tears had gathered in Gordon’s eyes. “Maybe even brain-damaged! How is there not enough proof?!” 

He stood up and walked over to the window, pinching the bridge of his nose to try and keep some kind of control over himself; what happened to not feeling anything?

Deep breaths Virgil, deep breaths... 

“What about all of the witnesses?” he questioned, facing away from his brothers as he glared out the window. “Everybody saw it, you…” his voice shook “you couldn’t miss it if you tried..” 

Alan’s terrified eyes, a flash and a loud bang. Allie on the floor, blood everywhere; baby brother crying in pain. That man laughing...

He gripped the windowsill tightly, glaring out at the skyline, “Everybody knew why, it wasn’t an accident, it wasn’t a stray bullet…” He took a shaky deep breath, feeling his eyes fill with moisture, “He looked right at me and said ‘International rescue couldn’t save my sister from being paralysed, so now I’ll return the favour!’” 

He turned to face his brothers, both their faces bleached pale; Gordon’s more than John’s. This was the first time he has spoken in detail about what transpired that night to his brothers. “There's no way that wasn’t intentional..”

“They’re going to get what they deserve Virg, Jack and Lady Penelope are confident of that…” John spoke, his voice taking on a gentler tone, the tone he uses when he’s talking to distressed and panicked rescuees. 

He hated the fact that John felt the need to use that voice on them, on him...

“It may not seem like it but…” John’s shoulders dropped, his brother’s eyes filled with exhaustion. “But it only has been three days since that night; court cases take time...”  

“Feels way longer than just three days…” Gordon muttered softly, scuffing the sole of his shoe into the carpet. “Especially with Allie not..” Gordon dropped back down on the bed next to John, wrapping his arms around himself tightly, “you know, waking up..” 

Every single one of big brother instincts was screaming at him to go and comfort his brother, but he hesitated, and in that time, John had beat him to it.

“I know Gordy...” John sighed sadly, pulling Gordon in a loose one-armed hug; their little brother collapsing like a rag doll against John's chest with a little sniffle. 

His already broken heart seemed to break even more at the sight of their mischievous and fun-loving little brother looking so down; so drained of happiness and hope. 

Sometimes he forgot that Alan wasn’t just Gordon’s little brother but his best friend as well. How didn’t he noticed that he wasn’t the only one that wasn’t dealing well with Alan's injury?

The self-hatred he was feeling towards himself seemed to double at that thought. 

“They’re not going to get away with this Virgil; I promise you that..” John promised, aqua blue eyes looking right at him, voice leaving no room for argument. “Jack, Colonel Casey, Penny and I are going to make sure of that..”

“I know…” He sighed, running his hand through his ungelled hair, turning to look out the window again; just being able to make out the hospital in the distance. “I’m going to have to testify, ain’t I?” 

“If you’re willing and that is what you want to do, of course, you can..” John explained with an odd, almost worried tone to his voice. “but Scott, Grandma and I were talking, and we think it’s a better idea if you don’t..” 

“What?” He turned around in astoundment. Even Gordon looked confused, looking up at John with a raised eyebrow. “What do you mean, don’t testify?” His fist clenched slightly as anger started bubbling in his stomach. “If I don’t, they’ll get away-I..”

He bit his bottom lip, glancing out the window as anxiety flooded him again at the thought of those people being able to walk free. “I…I have to testify, or else they’re...they’re..”

“Virgil..” John’s voice cut through his panic, sounding incredibly sad as well as concerned.  “With how many witnesses there were, you don’t necessarily have to testify for there to be enough proof to prove them guilty..” 

“But…” He glanced back at his brothers, and the first thing that hits him is just how concerned they looked, both of them; even Gordon. They weren't even trying to hide it from him anymore. 

His fists clenched as he turned his face away from his brothers. They did think he was broken, didn’t they? Why else would they be acting like this? 

“We just don’t want to push you too far by forcing you to relive that night, Virg” John explained gently, “you have been through a lot these last couple of days after all..” 

Understatement of the year, he thought with a scoff. 

John continued, “and we don’t want to see you get hurt any more than you have been..” 

His eyebrows furrowed, the anger starting to bubble in his stomach again. He wasn’t the one that was hurt, what was John going on about?! Alan was the one that was hurt! 

Not him! He thought as he gripped the window sill tightly, his eyes squeezed shut as he tried to push his anger down. He didn’t understand why he was getting so angry at his brothers; they were worried about him because they cared.

But maybe he wasn’t really angry at them but more at himself? Because deep down, he didn’t feel like he deserved their worry; he was the one that had let their baby brother get shot after all. They should hate him...

Like he hated himself...

“That’s why we think testifying in front of all those people, including the guys responsible for this, isn’t such a good idea..” John explained, his voice filled with brotherly concern; which just seemed infuriated him more. “Especially when you don’t necessarily have too..”

Things went silent for a moment; like his brothers were waiting for him to say something, but he wasn’t in the mood to talk, he didn’t trust himself not to start shouting if he did.  

John sighed, sounding slightly disheartened “Scott wanted to be the one to talk to you about this, he thought you’ll probably take it better from him than anyone else..”

He rolled his eyes, looking out at the skyline. Of course, Scott would want to be the one to talk to him. That was typical Scott, always wanting to be the one to shoulder the burden. 

But that meant that even Scott, his best friend, though he was..was broken? He realised with a shaky gasp, a feeling of betrayal missing into the anger he was feeling. Sure John had mentioned Scott being a part of this before, but the meaning of it all was only just hitting him now...

“I’m not made of glass…” He whispered tensely as he turned to face his brothers, anger seasoning his voice like a strong chili, hot and burning. “So will you please stop acting like it?!” 

His voice had raised to a shout, like he feared it would; but right now, he didn’t care. John’s eyes hardened a touch, but they were still filled with that same concern that filled him with rage. 

Gordon flinched, brown eyes wide with startled fear and concern, “Virg, John was only saying-”

“I know what he was saying, Gordon!” He snapped at Gordon and instantly regretted it as Gordon’s eyes filled with hurt. “Gordon I-”

“Forget it..” Gordon muttered as he got up from his position on the bed, “I’m going to take a bath; closest thing I'm going to get to a swimming pool for a while..” 

The shared bathroom door slammed shut. 

“We're just trying to look out for you, Virgil..” 

Just as fast as his anger appeared, it disappeared just as fast; maybe even quicker, leaving him feeling empty and hollow once again. He turned to look at John, feeling horribly lost. 

“I..i know, I just-” Suddenly being stuck in a room with the people he had just yelled at, was too much for him to take. “I’m going for a walk, call me when you hear news…” 

Then he ran, only stopping long enough to put his boots on and grab his phone before he was out the door; not looking back. 

He was getting really good at running away it seemed...

[brittle-bone-gabe]

The Forgotten: Chapter Ten - The Old Times

Chapter One , Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five, Chapter Six, Chapter Seven, Chapter Eight, Chapter Nine, Chapter Eleven, Chapter Twelve, Chapter Thirteen, Chapter Fourteen, Chapter Fifteen, Chapter Sixteen, Chapter Seventeen, Chapter Eighteen, Chapter Nineteen, Chapter Twenty, Epilogue

Summary: Barry Berkman couldn’t remember much of his childhood; he knew he used to live in Derry, Maine, but that was about it, besides being taken by his “Uncle Fuches” at age 16 to move to Cleveland, Ohio. Eddie Kaspbrak moved from Derry, Maine to LA, becoming a police officer, surprisingly enough. Normally things were quiet for the most part, besides the occasional drug busts, but it’s when someone named Barry Block enters his line of sight as a possible suspect for the recent string of murders he has to push the feeling of remembrance to investigate.     Pairing: Adult Reddie  (Richie x Eddie) Or, technically, Barry x Eddie Read on AO3: Here

Back at his and Fuches’ hotel room, Richie was sitting on his fold out bed, drinking heavily with the goal in mind is to get drunk so he could forget about this whole fucking day. It was goddamn awful… First, he accidentally spills his entire life and basically all the crimes he’s ever done, and second, he wanted to change his name. Yeah, that second point shouldn’t have been something Richie would regret, but it only seemed like there was one person in his corner and that was Mr. Cousineau. Richie honestly couldn’t tell if Eddie was supporting him or just trying to pile up enough evidence to get him arrested, but at this point whatever happened to Richie happened. He wasn't going to fight anymore, he was too tired and depressed to do so. Besides, it wasn’t like Fuches was going to help him, not like he could help anyways…

Richie had his head bowed, his head pounding as he was holding a vodka bottle in his hands that he didn’t even notice Fuches had walked up to him, looking extremely disappointed. Well, what else was new? The real question should be who wasn’t disappointed in him?

“What the fuck are you doing, Barry?” Fuches demanded, tapping his foot on the carpeted floor.

“‘y name’s Richie now,” Richie slurred, raising his head so he could look at him, chugging the bottle again.

“No the fuck it isn’t!” Fuches snapped, snatching the patched up glasses with tape on the bridge from Richie’s face.

“Give those back!” Richie whined, making no attempt to reach for the glasses, knowing he was getting too tipsy, so if he did he would end up falling off the bed.

“Not until you drop this Richie business!”

Richie was silent for a moment, rocking back and forth slightly as he stared at the bottle in his hand trying to think of what he wanted to say to him. There was so much he wanted to say in general, but he had nobody to talk to about anything. Sometimes he wished he could go to therapy, but Richie was sure that any therapist had to report anything he told them to the police or something. He was trapped in his own mind with no way to escape.

“Fuches… why did you make me change my name?” Richie asked, looking up at the older man with a sad look in his eyes.

At first, it seemed as though Fuches was going to spill another lie, but it took an entirely different turn of direction. He let out a sigh, taking a seat next to Richie, holding the glasses out to him.

“Because,” he started, “you were going to have a different life after I took you from Maine, right?” Richie blinked, not understanding what he was getting at, but still nodded in response. “A different life means a different name, right?”

“I guess…”

“And now that you’re in this life your name’s Barry now, right?” Richie didn’t say anything, he just stared straight ahead past Fuches like he wasn’t paying attention. Great, he was manipulating him again… not like that wasn’t new, Fuches has been manipulating him since they left Maine. “ Right, Barry?” Fuches said through his teeth, as if he was getting irritated with him.

“‘m still going by Richie…”

Fuches shook his head, rolling his eyes. “You gotta see Hank tomorrow, Barry. He’s getting impatient that Bell isn’t dead yet.”

“...Who?”

Fuches groaned, standing up from the bed, confusing Richie about what he did wrong this time. Well, he was just fucking everything up today, wasn’t he?

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” was all Fuches said as he grabbed his jacket from the hook next to the door.

“Where are you going?”

“ Out.”

Richie opened his mouth for him to elaborate, but Fuches was already on his way out, slamming the door behind him. He let out a deep sigh, suddenly feeling more depressed than he’s ever had before. Nothing was going right, his whole identity was being pulled into two different directions; Fuches and Sally were basically telling him that he was Barry and nobody else, while Mr. Cousineau and Eddie were encouraging him to be whoever Richie Tozier was. He smacked himself as hard as he could in the face for no reason other than he was drunk and frustrated. He slammed the bottle of vodka on the end table before grabbing a pillow to muffle his frustrated screams as that was the only way he could think of to release some of his anger.

He clutched the pillow tight, holding it against himself as he began to cry silently. Every wrong thing that Richie’s ever done was flooding back to him all at once and it drove him mad. The night he had to kill Chris so he wouldn’t go to the police, the person who he had considered to be his best friend; the night he practically lured Janice over to the tree where he had his gun hidden in case he needed to use it and proceeded to kill her and hid her car and body so he wouldn’t get arrested, ultimately destroying Mr. Cousineau’s life. Hell, even all the fights that Richie and Sally had came back to him and made him realize that he couldn’t even hold a relationship or connect with anyone at all, and there was nowhere he felt he could run to.

As a last resort in his drunken state of mind, Richie wiped the tears from his eyes before reaching over the side of his bed. From underneath the thin, flimsy mattress he pulled out an extra pistol he kept there for emergencies. Richie tucked his legs to his chest, rocking back and forth with the gun still clutched tightly in his hand. He felt lost, scared, alone, and extremely hopeless.

Richie didn’t want to do this anymore.

It was a struggle since he was so drunk, but Richie managed to stand up from the fold out of bed, swaying slightly as he did. He grabbed the bottle that was still on the nightstand, taking a swing of it when he noticed the piece of paper that had been sitting underneath it. Richie tilted his head to the side, replacing the bottle with the paper that had Eddie’s personal number written neatly over it in pen. Would it be worth it to even call Eddie? Would he even answer? Letting out a sigh, Richie took out his phone from his back pocket, drunkenly dialing the number as he stumbled his way over to the bathroom, as he suddenly felt anxious and needed to puke.

Richie dropped to his knees in front of the toilet, puking up his guts from the anxiety and all the alcohol he consumed. If he didn’t feel awful before he did now, his stomach and throat burning. He felt like he was going to suffocate from lack of oxygen, not being able to even suck in a little bit of air from the constant puking he was doing.

Once he was able to regain a bit of control, he wiped the tears from his eyes, hearing someone on the phone that was sitting next to him on the floor. That’s when he remembered that he had called Eddie for… for some reason that he couldn’t remember.

“Richie? Richie, are you okay?” Richie heard Eddie ask him as he pressed the phone to his ear, rubbing the back of his hand over his mouth.

“‘m so ready to kill myself,” Richie slurred into the phone, leaning against the tub that was next to him, still on the floor. Tears were still burning in his eyes, it had been a long time since he actually let out a real, breakdown cry, and Richie felt like it was something he needed, minus the breakdown part.

Eddie was honestly taken aback, he wasn’t expecting Richie to say something like that. That just… wasn’t something his Richie would ever say… Even though he had told Eddie so much of what happened from the time he left Derry to now, Eddie felt like he would not be able to truly understand what he’s been through to make him feel like this.

“What’s wrong, Richie?”

Richie couldn’t help it as he started to breathe heavily, feeling like he was going into a panic attack. He looked at the gun in his hand, squeezing it tightly.

“What’d you call me?”

“Richie. That’s what you wanted me to call you, right? I can call you Bar-”

“No! No, no, no… Don’t call me that… I’m Richie.”

“Yeah… you’re Richie.”

Eddie was trying to be as careful as possible with what words he chose, maybe it was all his time at work with the training he had for situations like this, or maybe since he knew Richie and knew he wouldn’t say anything like that without a reason that raised some flags. It was extremely obvious that he was distressed, clearly drunk from the way he was slurring his words. Hearing him throw up as soon as Eddie picked up had made him cringed.

“Hey, Richie? Do you have… anything that could hurt you?” As much as Eddie hated asking that question to anyone, it felt awkward and pushy, but if Richie did have something that could possibly be a harm to him then Eddie needed to know.

Being as drunk as he was, Richie couldn’t even phantom the idea of lying to Eddie. He was that type of drunk who spilled everything even when he wasn’t prompted, that being the reason he didn’t get too hammered while out in public, especially when out drinking with those from his acting class. Sure, they may take whatever he may have spilled out as him practicing monologue or a script or something, but there was no way Richie was risking it. “I have a gun,” he admitted, pressing the side of the weapon to his forehead, feeling the cool steel against his skin. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly, rocking back and forth slightly enough for his back to bang into the tub wall.

He was conflicted, as much as Richie wanted to end his own life, he felt like talking to Eddie was helping him greatly. Like having that comfort that somebody was willing to be there for him was enough to make him rethink all of this…

“ Okay… is it-” Before Eddie could even get his question out, Richie cocked the gun he was holding, hearing it made Eddie panic, his heart now slamming against his chest. “ Where are you at, Rich? I don’t want you hurting yourself.”

Richie sniffled, rubbing his eyes. “In my hotel room…” he admitted, that’s when it hit him that he’s never actually told anyone where he lived, not even Hank knew where he and Fuches stayed. It never made sense to Richie why they didn’t just get an apartment like a normal person, it would save money if they did that, but if there was ever a reason they both needed to bail quickly the lease couldn’t backtrack to them in any way.

“Your hotel room? Okay, cool, cool… How about this?” Eddie was prepared to do anything to get to Richie, to make sure that he wasn’t going to do anything to hurt himself. He had no idea what was going on with him, but Eddie had an idea and he still didn’t want anything to happen to Richie. “I can come pick you up and we can drive around, get some fresh air. How does that sound?”

Even though Eddie couldn’t see him through the phone, Richie still nodded as if he could. To be honest, driving around and getting out of the cramped hotel room did actually sound nice. Yeah, Richie was free to basically go wherever he wanted to, but it wasn’t like he really had anywhere to go. The only time he ever left was to go to his acting classes, to get food at the small, cheap restaurant that was more or less right across the street, but that was about it. What a sad, sad life he lived… What would’ve happened if he never left Derry? If he stayed with that group of friends that Eddie reminded him of when showing Richie that photo… Maybe he would’ve gone to college, get a degree in… something. Fuck, Richie couldn’t even remember what his interests were before being forced to leave. What did he want to go to college for? He did remember that it was that time in high school where everyone in their grade kept getting pressured by almost every teacher about what they wanted to do with their lives.

What do you want to do with your life, Richie?

I dunno, kill people for money. No big deal. Don’t need to go to college for that, right?

“Please…” Richie finally squeaked, hearing Eddie let out the breath that he had been holding. Apparently Richie had been lost in his thoughts longer than he thought he had, which had made Eddie panic silently.

“No problem. Which hotel and which room? I’ll come get you.”

Richie more or less slurred in words together, but it was enough for Eddie to understand which hotel he was in at least. It wasn’t too far from his apartment, about ten minutes, maybe twenty minutes depending on the traffic.

“Jus… just let me know when you’re here-”

“How about you just stay on the phone with me?” Eddie told him as he was rummaging around his apartment for his keys that he of course couldn’t find at the last goddamn minute.

Richie didn’t say anything, he wasn’t used to somebody caring so much about him, especially not enough to come to him to make sure he was going to be okay.

“Okay…” He finally mumbles into the phone.

                                                                 -----

Eddie had raced down the flight of stairs of his apartment building, his keys held tightly in his hand, the brass keys were digging into his skin as he held the cell phone up to his ear with his shoulder as he opened the door to the parking lot. He could understand that Richie wasn’t in the mood to talk, but Eddie needed him to keep talking, so he could make sure he was doing okay. Or… at least not going through with anything. This entire situation is delicate and Eddie needed to make sure he was going to make the right choices here.

“Richie?” Eddie asked into the phone, hoping that he was still there and still doing okay. Or, as okay as Richie could be. “What are you doing right now, man?”

He could hear Richie drop a bottle on a tile floor, the sound was loud, causing Eddie to flinch. As Eddie was waiting for an answer, he put his car into drive, speeding off out of the parking lot and down the road.

“ ‘m not doin’ anything,” Richie more or less whined into the phone, his back still pressed up against the tub wall. He felt as though if he stood up to go back into his bed he would tumble over from how drunk he had gotten. He said he wouldn’t do anything, yet he was still holding the gun in his head, his brain still contemplating whether or not he should just pull the trigger and get this over with. “ I swear ‘m fine.”

“I trust you… I just need you to keep talking to me, okay?”

“ I don’t have anything to say…” Richie admitted, pulling his knees up to his chest, wrapping an arm around his knees, pulling them closer. He chuckled, it wasn’t like someone telling a joke chuckle, it was more like he was having a dark thought. “Would think you’d hear if I shot myself.”  

“Don’t think like that, you’re going to be okay, alright?”

It was silent for a good minute or two, the longest moment of silence Eddie’s been through. He had no idea what to say, it was as though all the training that Eddie has done for these exact moments flew out the window. Almost like he wasn’t even thinking like a cop right now but as a concerned friend.

As Eddie opened his mouth to speak, a faint sob came from the other end of the line. The sound broke his heart, as kids Eddie must’ve only seen Richie cry once, to this day Eddie wasn’t sure what it was about, but he knew that it was something to do with family matters. It sucked, Richie had always seemed like such a happy kid, but from piecing what Eddie could together it seemed like his home life was awful… Sure, his wasn’t the best either, but goddamn…

“Richie?”

“I’m tired.”

“I’m almost there, okay? You gotta hang on. … Richie?”

Richie took a swing from his alcohol, sniffling before answering. “ I’m here…”

Eddie turned into the hotel that Richie had been staying at for an undetermined amount of time. Thankfully there was an easy parking spot right up front by the door, Eddie would’ve been pissed off if he had to go around over and over to find a goddamn spot. Road rage was certainly one of his downfalls.

“I’m coming up, alright? I’m almost there,” he told him as he walked up to the elevator, repeatedly pressing the floor up button, hoping that somehow that would make the elevator doors open faster. As soon as he entered, Richie was trying to tell him something, but all that was coming out was static and everything was cutting due to the lost connection just from stepping inside the elevator.

Cursing under his breath, Eddie removed the phone from his ear, pressing the fourth floor button, trying to go back to his phone app to call Richie back. No matter how many times he tried calling him back it either didn’t go through, or it rang a couple of times before going straight to voicemail, which made Eddie believe that Richie was declining his calls. Fuck.

The moment the elevator stopped, Eddie slipped out the doors as they were still sliding open. He paused for a moment, getting a feel for how the room numbers were laid out. Since Richie’s room was twelve, it should theoretically be in the center of the hallway. The entire time he was looking at each door to check for door numbers he was trying to call Richie again, just to be sure he was doing okay, even though it’s been less than a minute since the call dropped.

Once he found Richie’s room, he couldn’t help but immediately try the doorknob to see if it would be, hopefully, unlocked…. But it wasn’t… Fuck, fuck, fuck… Eddie started pounding on the door, hoping that he was able to get Richie’s attention. Hoping that he didn’t do anything in that short time span. It only took a few seconds to put the gun to his head and pull the trigger. Eddie pressed his ear against the door, trying to determine if there was any movement coming from inside, but there wasn’t. Goddammit.

“Richie!” Eddie called, pressing his hands against the door. Normally he’d be concerned with people staying in the rooms around them, he would hate to disturb them, but this was important. “Richie, I swear to god, you better open this door or I’ll kick it down!”

Pressing his ear against the door again, this time, thankfully, Eddie could hear small footsteps coming towards the door. Oh, thank god.

Two locks from the otherside became undone, Richie opened the door, just standing there, staring at Eddie as he was swaying slightly side to side due to the alcohol. In fact, Eddie was sure if it weren’t for Richie holding onto the doorknob he would’ve fallen over. Richie’s eyes were red and puffy, tear stains down his cheeks and the gun still in his hand. Eddie was extremely concerned, as he was, hearing him over the phone and seeing him in person were two heavily different things.

“Put the gun down, Rich,” Eddie said in a low voice, so nobody could hear him, yet it was in a cautious tone.

Richie didn’t say anything, in fact, he turned around, leaving the door opened as he shuffled his feet through the carpet flooring on his way back to his fold out bed. Eddie let himself in, closing and locking the door behind him out of habit. Richie tossed his gun down on the bed before taking a seat, burying his face in his hands, rocking back and forth. He began sobbing again, again, seeing this in person was way worse than hearing it over the phone…

“Richie… hey…” Eddie started, moving over to him.

It was as though Richie had forgotten that Eddie was even there, that he had been on the phone with him as he was sitting on the bathroom floor, because once he heard his voice the tears instantly stopped, as though nobody was allowed to see him cry. He moved his hands away from his face, wiping the tears away. When he noticed Eddie was starting to get too close Richie instantly stood up, causing Eddie to jump, moving back as not to scare him or making him feel uncomfortable.

Richie didn’t go very far, he moved over to the mirror that was hanging up horizontal to a dresser. All he did was stand there in silence, staring at his own reflection. Everything Richie’s ever done was flashing through his eyes; killing Chris, killing Janice, the things he did while in the Marine, his time in the hospital… Why the fuck couldn’t he have a normal life like everyone else?

Eddie wasn’t sure what to do now… He felt like he should go comfort Richie, but he was worried about what was going through his mind right now, he didn’t want to risk startling him.

“Richie-”

Before Eddie could even get this sentence thought out, Richie’s face scrunched up in frustration before sending his fist against the mirror as hard as he could. Glass shards flew everywhere, startling Eddie, making it hard to wrap his head around what just happened. Blood droplets dropped to the floor, running down Richie’s arm with shards of glass stuck in his skin.  Richie was numb, he couldn’t even register what he had done, not only was he emotionally numb, but his hand and arm became numb from the shock. The entire time he didn’t stop looking at himself now through the cracked mirror. His breathing became heavy, face twisting up like he wanted to cry, once he felt hands on his shoulders he tried his best to compose himself to show that nothing was wrong when that obviously was a lie.

“Breathe,” Eddie told him as he moved Richie away from the broken mirror to sit back down on the fold out mattress, “you gotta breathe.” It was getting to the point where it sounded as though Richie was about to start hyperventilating.

Richie let out a shaky breath, burying his face in his hands as he was trying to gather his thoughts. He was drunk, the world around him was spinning and he wasn’t completely sure what was going on. When he looked up at Eddie again there was blood smeared across his face, causing the shorter man to cringe.

“Why’d you come here, Eds?” Richie asked in a still shaky voice, almost gasping for air as he was almost forgetting to breathe.

Was he serious?

“I thought you were gonna fuckin’ kill yourself!” Eddie said a little too loudly, gesturing towards Richie’s bloodied up hand, “now I gotta take you to the hospital.”

“No hospitals!” Richie said quickly, panicking as he stood up quickly, almost stumbling over. Eddie had to grab him so he wouldn’t topple over.

“Okay, okay… no hospitals…” Eddie said carefully, not sure why he was so against it, but whatever… “Do you have a first aid kit?” Richie shook his head, holding his injured hand close to his chest. “Okay, um… I have one at home. Lets, uh…” Eddie paused, looking around to find something he could use to cover up Richie’s hand until they got him patched up. He grabbed a towel that was sitting on the dresser. “Let's get this wrapped up.”

Richie plopped back down on the fold out mattress, too anxious to say anything, instead he held out his hand to Eddie, who knelt down in front of him. Richie refused to look at him as he felt the towel get tightly wrapped around his hand, causing him to flinch. Some of the glass get pushed deeper in his skin. He whimpered in pain, snatching his hand away after the towel was secured in place.

“Let’s go, Richie.” He wrapped an arm around Richie’s shoulders, helping him stand up so he wouldn’t stumble over when trying to get up. Richie tried to grab the gun that was still on the bed, bringing it for God knows why… Eddie moved him along so he couldn’t grab it, there was no reason he needed to bring it along. “You don’t need that.”

“But-”

“C’mon.”

Eddie guided Richie out of the hotel room, which was a big help on Richie’s end since he would be stumbling without him. Richie was trying so hard to focus on something so he wouldn’t end up throwing up all over the carpeted floor. Surely the hotel wouldn’t appreciate that. Especially with all the possible complaints that were against him and Fuches for yelling at each other all the time, ruining the carpet would most likely get them kicked out for sure.

Getting Richie to Eddie’s car was surprisingly easy, Eddie honestly was expecting for him to start fighting with him and to refuse to leave, but the whole trip to the car he was silent. Eddie opened the passenger side door for Richie, he slid in while holding his injured hand close to his chest. The adrenaline was starting to wear off, so not only was Richie starting to feel extreme pain in his hand, he was starting to feel exhausted both mentally and physically. Richie had no idea what he was doing, he had his head leaning against the passenger window, staring out of it as Eddie got into the driver's seat.

Snapping out of his thoughts, Richie noticed that they had begun to drive, pulling out of the parking lot. The movement and bumpiness of the road was starting to make Richie feel sick, he felt like he wanted to puke again, but he would have to wait until they stop. To try to help the car sickness, Richie closed his eyes tight, but it wasn’t doing much to help.

“Eddie?” Richie asked suddenly, startling Eddie who already had a tight grip on the steering wheel.

“Hm?”

Richie opened his eyes again, they were now wet as he kept on looking outside. “Am I a bad person?”

“I think…” Eddie paused, he needed to choose his words carefully while also wanting to say how he really felt, “you were just a kid who got caught up in some bad things.”

Richie lifted his head up from the window, glancing over at Eddie, who had his eyes still locked onto the road.

“I mean…” Eddie continued again, feeling Richie’s eyes on him, “you want to walk away, right?” From the corner of his eye he could see Richie nod in agreement. “Well, that’s good. I think you changing your name is a great start. Put all of that behind you.”

“I’m really trying to, Eds. It’s hard, I keep getting pulled back into it.” Richie paused, was he saying too much again? Usually he kept to himself, but around Eddie… it was almost like he forgot how to filter himself. “You’re not gonna arrest me for this, are you?”

Eddie let out a sigh, which made Richie silently panic. He truly felt as though these were going to be his last few moments of freedom. Eddie knew that he should arrest him, he’s known that since they first talked in the car across the street of the precinct, but there was a mental block preventing him to do so.

“As long as you don’t give me a reason to, alright?”

The rest of the short drive was silent, they didn’t have anything to say to each other. It was the same back and forth. Richie felt overly paranoid, now he didn’t feel like speaking to Eddie about anything. He shook his head, leaning forward in his seat with his face buried in his hands again. Richie was feeling so sick, the anxiety and paranoia was certainly not helping mixed in with the alcohol.

Everything around Richie was a blur, from what he could remember he was sitting in the car with Eddie with no sense of time, now he was sitting on a couch in an unfamiliar place. The lights were bright, making Richie’s already pounding head worse. Fuck. Everything was moving both too fast yet slow at the same time. Yeah, Richie would never be drinking this much ever again.

“Eddie?” Richie called out, looking at his wrapped up hand, he couldn’t tell if blood was soaking through or if it was old blood. Either way, it made him concerned about how injured his hand actually was.

“I’m right here,” Eddie said as he came out of the bathroom from across the room, holding a first aid kit in his hand as he made his way back over to Richie. “It’s alright.”

“What if we leave?” Richie blurted out as Eddie set the first aid kit on the coffee table, he could see Eddie’s confused face as he opened up the box and started to go through it.

“Leave?” He wondered, taking out a couple of things that Richie couldn’t make out.

“Yeah, you and me. We leave LA and never come back.”

Eddie couldn’t help but chuckle as he took a seat next to Richie on the couch. “Why would I need to leave?” He asked, taking Richie’s hand and removing the towel. Thankfully the majority of the bleeding had stopped, it didn’t look like he would need stitches, so that was a good thing.

Richie wasn’t sure what to say, hell, he had no idea why he said that. It wasn’t like they knew each other that well, or… at least anymore. There was no way Eddie would drop his entire life to leave with Richie, that would’ve been stupid. Fuck, why was Richie so stupid?

“Um…” Richie said, watching Eddie take a small alcohol pad, wiping down the small pair of tweezers in his hand. “I dunno, man.”

“You’d want me to come with you?” Eddie asked, focusing on Richie’s hand as he began to pull out the small shards of glass that remained.

Richie flinched every time Eddie dug around in his skin. “Kinda… is that weird?”

Eddie shook his head. “You have your class here, Richie. You should stay.”

“But… a guy… wants me to kill someone because he thinks he’s a rat. I don’t wanna do it.”

“Then don’t do it.” Eddie wiped down Richie’s entire hand with a couple of alcohol pads to clean the wounds and clean up the blood. “You have a choice, y’know?”

“I’m kinda on thin ice with my uncle right now.”

“Oh well.”

Richie couldn’t help but chuckle as Eddie put gauze pads on his hand. “I missed you Eddie Spaghetti.”

Eddie quickly looked up at him, remembering that stupid fucking nickname. It was clear that some of Richie’s memories were coming back to him and that was great. Maybe that would give him the extra push to leave this life behind for good.

“Shut the fuck up.” Richie couldn’t help but smile at his reaction. “I missed you too.” He finished wrapping up Richie’s hand with a self adhesive bandage down to his wrist. “You’re staying here tonight,” Eddie added as he stood up to put away the first aid kit.

That caught Richie off guard, he wasn’t expecting that. He was expecting for Eddie to patch him up then drive him back home.

“Why?”

“I don’t want you hurting yourself.”

“I won’t, I-”

“You’re staying.”

[hecohansen31]

Just Ride (Chapter 2).

(JIm Mason+Reader, MOTO GP AU).

A/N: Hello there, lovelies!

I just wanted to thank you, first of all, for all the love for this fic, I am glad you loved it, almost as much as I loved writing it and I hope this second chapter won’t disappoint you (also it is a bit far away from the MOTO GP world… sorry guys, I just needed to let that fluff go!).

Second of all, I am not going to disappear, but it might take me some time for me to upload the third chapter (yeah there is going to be a third chapter, with smut!) because I have been feeling straight up destroyed and I pulled all-nighters to write this chapter (I don’t regret it, but guys… I AM TIRED!) and i neglected both reading (which calms me down, mostly because I am anxious for an exam) and my own original writing (I am almost finished with my book, so I need to focus on that). Sorry!

I am not going to drop out of here (i am pretty addicted), but I will try to post two fic I just need to read and correct (about Outpost! Michael *wink face*).

As always: ANY FEEDBACK IS WELCOME (Also just “you suck, this suck, stop writing”) just let me know what you think, I love you!

And after all this talk: ENJOY!

(Also the photo of Jim kissing is honestly so cute… and I want a kiss from Jimmy right now! 🙈😉)

SUMMARY: Suddendly you are not only his mechanic, but apparently feelings are also involved and although he keeps on seeing you as a friend, you might want something more…

WORDS: 3 K.

WARNING: Drug Talking (there is no drug consumption or abuse, but there is talking about it, so just wanted to put this all out), just fluffy thoughts and some mentions about what happened in “The Tribes of Palos Verdes”, mentions of sex and mommy kink (but no actual smut, be ready for it in the next chapter). Just fluff!

She checked out her appearance in the mirror of the elevator, meanwhile her girlfriends chatted, giggling about the party they were going to attend, a party hosted by Jim in his New York loft, paid with the first and last win of the season, because although he had started learning the ways of the bike, the other riders were now extremely careful with him, not letting, what had happened on the first race, again.

And although Jimmy was a true champ in learning from his mistakes (he still was too reckless for her) he had only managed another podium in the three latest races, and one time he had fallen from the bike (which got her a little heart attack) (for the moto, obviously…).

And although everybody was proud of him, he seemed unhappy of the place he kept on being and going back to, even going as far as avoiding the press that time he had fallen down, letting her handle the questions.

“He is in a bad period, just trying his best to fit in with the other riders, who are clearly trying him out and he is having a difficult time not seeing them as just rivals” she had tried to justify him, before moving back to his destroyed bike, finding Jim, already there, still in his race suit.

“You can take off for the rest of the day” she had given him the permission, but he had shaken his head and instead he had asked for an iron tire and instructions on how to fix the moto, and himself.

And slowly in those weeks, they spent together, she had learned a bit about him, so she couldn’t help but participate to his latest party, although they weren’t her place; she had brought a few girlfriends with her; some even had crushes on Jim so she hoped that a good flirt might help him settle down the uneasiness he felt, lately.

Although it pained it a bit to see her tall and beautiful friends talk about Jim as a piece of meat.

He was an annoying biker, but he was a beautiful person, much more than a piece of meat (although she knew he was a good piece of meat, having seen him without the race suit dozen of times, walking in his trailer to talk with him or call him out for try-outs).

-Don’t overwhelm him, girls- she just suggested, before moving out of the elevator, with a last check on the dress she had chosen; she never wore them, again the “they are too feminine for you” warning sounding angrily in her head, but the previous days she had seen the dress and her friends had insisted that she tried it on, since it matched perfectly her physique and she found them to be correct, feeling the sexiest thing ever in the bodycon and lacey dress.

She, outside of the shop, and in a very crowded room, found herself to be at unease.

She still felt the sexiest, a little self-conscious about how much skin she was showing, and how she was presenting herself to everyone.

She knew it was silly, but, also, she spent all of her life in training clothes or mechanic gear, which covered each piece of skin she might show, and it all made her feel protected.

Russel walked in when he caught her on threshold of the door, meanwhile her girlfriends scattered everywhere, looking for either a partner or a drink or both.

-Hello, there, boss! – he smirked at her, hugging her, meanwhile he moved his full plastic glass to the nearest shelf -… didn’t know you were coming-.

-I honestly wanted to see how Jimmy was holding everything up- she couldn’t lie to Russel, mostly when working on the same bike or bikers together -… did you see him? -.

-Sadly, just for a swift minute at the start of the party, then I lost him- he shook his head, a sad smile on his face, which prompted her to bite down worriedly her bottom lip.

She just patted him on the shoulder, before moving away, smiling at the people she recognized and at those she didn’t, getting a swift arm grab by Jack, the manager, who dived in for a quick kiss on her cheek, before complimenting her outfit, shouting over the sudden loud music.

-Have you seen Jim? – she just asked him, without reciprocating the kiss and the compliments, just smiling tightly at him, in search of answers, meanwhile his mouth opened in a radiant smirk; he was clearly happy that she didn’t think about killing Jim and make it seem like an accident.

-He went in his room, he needed to change after he got beer spilled on him, second door on the left- he instructed her, before sending her off, as soon as a blonde woman moved in front of her with another red plastic glass for him, sending her an harsh glare, as if she was worried she might take Jake away from her.

She actually almost got lost in the massive loft, ended up opening the wrong door, surprising two very “busy” people and then she finally managed to get the one with a huge warning sign with the writing “Don’t walk in without knocking, I might be playing play-station”.

And knock she did, not getting any answer.

So, she opened the door, finding it unlocked, not even hearing any noise and Jim wasn’t there, which meant either he wasn’t there or he was …

A little noise prompted her to discover a little bathroom inside the room, and there she found Jim…

With a little bag of something white in his hand, his pinky dipped in it, but she moved fast enough to catch him by surprise and avoid him going on with his project.

Quickly she stole the little bag straight from his hand and using the surprise effect to obtain no resistance from him, and also perfectly hitting the toilette seat and flushing the little bag down before Jim could reach it, and when he kneeled on the toilette and just watched as the bag ended up in the sewers.

It happened all so fast, that meanwhile she tried to keep her breathe up, regaining it with careful and measured breathes, Jim pinned her to the wall and whereas she was far stronger than people gave her credit, his grip was not giving out after she tried to push against it, which scared her a bit more than she would admit.

-You do realize that you flushed a lot of money down the toilette? – he tried to sound threatening but something in his was just not convincing, his tone cracking up badly and she wondered if she hadn’t been a little too late, if he had already assumed other drugs.

-And you do realize that you were just flushing your entire future, with the consumption of that dose? – she retorted back, gaining back control and pushing her chest against his.

His weak grip broke and she was the one who backed him up on the opposite part of the bathroom, and now it was her who had the upper hand, pining him, with a leg between his and her hands grasping his -What were you thinking? -.

She didn’t want to sound disappointed, knowing perfectly it wouldn’t help.

Jim hadn’t opened up with her about the real reason between his drug consumption, but he spent a lot of time talking about his twin Medina, even showing her the pictures he took on his surfing holidays with his twin, being as proud as not so many people.

But when those things happened, he somehow disappeared in himself as if something about Palos Verdes disturbed him, bringing back sad memories.

“Why didn’t you become a surfer?” she had asked, after getting in great details the reason why he wanted, right in that moment, to be out of a circuit and on a Cali beach, surfing.

“I wanted to get away” he had mumbled, looking down at the iron tire in his hands “Why did you become a mechanic?”.

-They help with dealing with all the anxiety I get from races… I don’t know if you have realized it or not, but I suck- and he looked at his shoes, which made her to release a hand and make him raise his face to meet her eyes.

-You don’t suck, you are just inexperienced- she explained calmly, moving her hand to his hair, caressing it, before flicking an ear, hearing a distinctive “ouch” -… and you are learning swiftly, I am impressed by the fact that you manage to only fall once-.

He just looked at her unimpressed, moving to exit her grip, but she stopped him.

-You don’t need them, Jimmy- she chanted, again her hand moving to his hair, this time pulling lightly to get his head to raise and their eyes to meet -… if they found out you started again you would have to quit and this would be worse than you falling down each race, because if you fall down you get back and better, but with drugs…-

-…I fall and I stay down- he completed for her, releasing a long breath, before moving his hands down in surrender, with hers on them, and moving to slump on her, which got her to almost fall, at the sudden weight, letting out an annoyed “umph” -… my therapist used to say that all the time-.

-I am the therapist of your bike so that actually makes sense- she adjusted the weight, moving an hand to the wall to keep herself stable -… now can we go out and enjoy the party, without me worrying of you finding some coke to snort? - .

He giggled at her, as if he hadn’t given her a heart attack a few minutes before and she honestly loved when he was like that, and she loved it all even more when he brought her in a hug.

-It wasn’t coke, but ok, I will stay away from drugs, but I don’t want to go back to the party, momma- he seemed as a petulant child, mumbling on her shoulder and she rolled her eyes, but went back to caressing his head.

-I brought very cute friends for you- she attempted, but he wasn’t clearly interested, just pushing himself outside of the bath and to the bed, where slumped down, before inviting her to do the same, in her expensive and sexy dress, retrieving two play-station controllers.

-… let’s see how you handle being on the virtual circuit-.

She honestly knew that once you cut out one addiction, another took the place of the original one.

And whereas Jim had been voracious of something that numbed his senses, he now seemed interested into feeling everything.

And she heard each moment of “everything” before opening the trailer, where he stayed, and caught him with a different girl each time, annoyedly shouting at them to get it over quickly because he was needed for try-outs.

“The boy just needs a way to release stress” had commented Russel, after he had seen the glare, she had sent Jim’s way as he accompanied a girl out of the trailer, quickly dismissing her.

“I go to the gym to release the tension” she had replied, instead, meanwhile she settled her look on the race.

“Well that is some kind of gym…” which got him a slap on his shoulder, before the girl moved to test the circuit and analyze the proper tire to use for that day.

So, she tried he best to ignore it, but to be there for him.

Slowly he was learning and she had been extremely surprised when he had managed to do a good job with a broken tire, on his own, for which she had been so surprised that he had managed to sneak around her and kiss her cheeks, happy he had been again on the podium, for that race.

This time when she called him to tell him that he only had an hour before the race he found him alone, in his plastic chair, with his hoodie over his head, shielding his eyes, completely motionless In the his sat position, which got her worried, thinking of the worst but he immediately raised his head when he heard her at the door, almost as a puppy who just recognized his master coming home for him.

(And sometimes she found herself comparing him to a big Labrador puppy, mostly whenever he hug-attacked her after a race, drenched in sweet and smoking of gasoline, which, at first, prompted a disgusted protest from her, but swiftly she just cuddled just closer to his chest, holding him as he held her).

-Hello, there- he mumbled, showing how reactive he was, clearly sensing her presence and worry -Is it already time for the race to start? -.

Although Jim didn’t usually take notice of the time, he wasn’t that lost, which prompted her to understand he wasn’t clearly in a good mood.

-You still have an hour, but I thought to call you, in case you had… company- she mumbled, trying to make it appear a teasing tone, smiling sarcastically at him, before she shot a look at the little bath in the trailer -… I hope no one will come out of the bathroom, because that would be awkward-.

He just smiled tiredly at her, and she moved closer to him, kneeling behind him, which finally got a raise from him.

-Jimmy, what is troubling you? – and she gripped his face so they could be at eye level, in order for her to understand if she could do something for him, holding a hand, rubbing circles into it, because it might calm him.

She called him Jimmy only when she was worried or to tease him and most of the time it happened in her mind, not out loud at him so he looked shocked at her, before moving his eyes down to their joined hands.

-You must seriously think I am more trouble than what I am worth- he mumbled, and she griped his hand tighter.

-Jimmy, if I thought it like that, I would have seriously unscrewed some nails on your first day- this got him a bewildered expressions as if to say “YOU WOULDN’T DARE” -… you are just a bit more frail, and that isn’t a flaw, not when it makes you so nice to everyone, the team loves you, the others bikers love you, when you don’t make them fall…- “and I might have developed a slight crush on you, but not only it would be highly unprofessional, because I am your mechanic, but also I am also not your type…”.

-… you know what would help? Telling me how cool I am! – he replied, getting in the mood, although he still hid what made him feel bad, and if she didn’t confront it now, it might bite him in the ass when he was riding, which was worse.

-You got the wrong person, Jim, you should have gotten one of those pretty model … I mean I am prettier…-

-You are- he commented, immediately after, which got her to almost stagger backward, worried about what she might have heard, but she managed to keep her balance -… you are beautiful-.

-I am covered in grease half of the time- she couldn’t believe that Jim found her beautiful, she didn’t think she was ugly or anything else, she thought herself to be pretty, but the ordinary “I don’t care to appear feminine” pretty, which didn’t interest Jim, but she was wrong, apparently.

-It brings out your natural glow- he replied, smirking meanwhile she bushed and fumed like a crazy lady, before collecting herself, and looking at him.

-Don’t try to change the subject- although she straight up was doing the same -… what was bothering you? And how can I help you? -.

-You know it’s nice you think you can fix me as a bike of yours- he muttered, his eyes shooting to the ground, his tone bitter, which made her truly sad for whatever the hell was going in his mind right now, and she passed an hand between his hair, gripping them tightly, this time he wouldn’t escape her probing eyes.

-I am pretty aware that you are not a bike to fix those things are easier…- and she moved closer to him, enough for their forehead to meet -… you are very much alive, and this makes it all much better-.

And before he could ask her to specify she kissed him, throwing out of the door every thought she had about how improper she was being and the imminent rejection, she just wanted Jimmy to feel her and feel that she could be a human, before a mechanic and that she cared for him.

She didn’t let the kiss last too long, worried it wasn’t going to be reciprocated ad that she overstepped her boundaries, but if she hadn’t used the surprised effect Jim might have closed in himself again and is she wanted him to be open with her, she had to be firstly open with him.

And he saw it.

And he leaned again towards her, towards her lips, clearly in search of another kiss, which was negated by a quick duck to the left of the girl, a little freeing giggle free from her lips.

Did Jim feel the same thing for her?

-… no no, no more kisses till you tell me what is wrong- she mumbled, right in front of his lips, teasing him, which prompted a pout from the other.

-I need something better than kisses for that and he eyed her body, explicitly, which prompted a glare from her and a slap on his thigh -… ouch! You are stronger than I thought! -.

-That’s what happens when you work with bikes and annoying riders, now tell me and I might go out with you, and if everything will be ok, I will even let you hold my hand again-.

-Can I sneak my hand in your jeans pockets like in that Netflix movie you made me see, “To all the assholes I have loved before”? – he smirked, clearly a bit gaining back his confidence, although blushing like she had been a few moments before.

-After you tell me what bothered you, I will even let you grope a little my ass, because I have seen you staring at it, meanwhile I pick things around…- actually it had been Russell catching him, and elbowing him meanwhile cackling, just to refer everything to (Y/N), saying:

“That’s why you shouldn’t be afraid of all those pretty blonde models; he has eyes only for you…” and he had smirked “…. your backside”.

This made him blush, and to prompt him with further bribing of her body, she moved onto his lap, sitting so they could face each other, keeping her balance wrapping her hands behind his neck.

-You realize that with that kiss, I made a jump into something I wasn’t expecting, but I did it because I trust you, and I am not asking for you to trust me…-.

-I do- he mumbled, which was surprising after she had straight up threatened at least five times to get his bike not working in the middle of the race -… it’s just that it is a thing I am scared will make you run away-.

He moved his hand on her back to help her keep the position, caressing lightly, much more to his comfort than hers.

-… Jimmy, it isn’t going to happen, ok… I like you a little bit too much and I have seen you throw a tantrum after you fell down the first time… I get that there are hard times and you are allowed to have them, but if I can help, I am here, with a tire iron to beat whoever hurt you-.

Although she said she was joking, she seriously would fight for that boy so so badly.

He looked at her for a bit, as if searching confirmation, but he saw only iron sweetness, and after he got a deep breath he spoke up:

-My mother called me…-

When they got out of the trailer, five minutes before the race started, she was wearing her sunglasses, meanwhile her jacket was raised on her neck and she promptly moved next to Russell, meanwhile checking the preparations of the bike.

Swiftly Jimmy jumped on it, shooting her a smile before wearing the helmet, getting a playful smack on it by the manager.

Russel smiled at her, meanwhile she settled down next to him, in her place, looking out at the still-clean race, getting ready in the same moment Jim exited the stables.

-Nice hickey- Russel commented, smirking cheekily.

-It’s a mosquito bite- she replied, swiftly, without moving her eyes from Jimmy’s bike.

-Oh, of course- whistled Russel, who knew perfectly what was going on -… I am glad you ended up together, I have actually won fifty dollars from Robert-.

She was glad she had won a date with the prettiest of the bikers.

As always I really hope that you liked it and will be here waiting for more (I hope it won’t take too much time! Also keep your eyes out for maybe another thing about my favorite sufer boy!) (Also in the previous piece there were actually real bikers’ name, just as a personal easter egg!).

Also I am tagging a few people who actually showed some love to this fic, hoping it won’t bother them! (if you want to be tagged, in the next piece, just let me know!).

@sojournmichael @duranie100theunionofthesnake @desertsunflower00

Any feedback is welcome: you loved it? You hated it? You have some suggestions?

I am all ears! 

[musesbyarya-a]

@strengthhonorcompassion | From my former blog @altissiancamelia

Send 🍸 for our muses to have a drink together.

It had been a few days since Camelia had met the Lucians who had come to Altissia to try to rebuild the old alliance between their two nations. The Clautras, an old family of the high society of Accordo who had been part of the resistance for years, had offered Prince Regis and his friends to accommodate them for the duration of their stay in order to ensure their safety in this place annexed by Niflheim.

In order to get to know each other a little better, Camelia had offered to go to a bar on the port whose owner was also part of their anti-government faction. Sitting quietly at a table, the young woman carried her drink to her lips to drink a sip of Martini Bianco before engaging in discussion with Clarice. “I hope you like Altissia, even if it’s only temporary,” she said with a soft smile.

“So far I’ve loved every moment of it.” The sea breeze had been helping her mood, their trip had been long and stressful as the Empire grew more and more bold. Not to mention being here was dangerous for her liege, the constant nagging feeling that something was going to go wrong kept Clarice anxious. Maybe it was just because they were back in a city instead of in the wilderness where she felt free? She couldn’t bring a voice to any of these feelings though, so she reached for her drink and smiled instead.

Always smiling. She had to be a lady, even as a shield. “Altissia is beautiful, I’m glad we were able to make it. You’re sure this arrangement won’t be an issue?”

Camelia gently raised an eyebrow. “This arrangement? Which one are you talking about,” she said in a soft voice before taking a sip of her drink and putting the glass on the table. She comes to take a cocktail pick and pin an olive stuffed with pepper on it. "The one where my family can safely house you here? Or the one for whom His Highness came to this place?“ She sketched a sweet and friendly smile before bringing the olive to her lips with a certain refinement.

“Yes.” Clarice sips her cocktail slowly, knowing drinks like this could be deceptive in their sweetness. The menu had called it a fuzzy navel but really she’d wanted the peach flavor and the presentation was nice, it looked almost like a sunrise. Orange and red swirled together in her glass like a dancing pair. “Both of them really, I understand how much we’re asking of you.” Weskham had picked their contacts carefully, Regis was his usual charming self but Clarice was not one to leave things to the boys.

So she’d proposed a small girl’s trip. Grab a few drinks and get to know Camelia face to face. Besides, she’d been camping with four men for weeks and needed a break from them now and again. Weskham and Cor were with Regis and she could relax for a short while. “We don’t have to talk business if you don’t want to. I wouldn’t mind learning more about you.”

“Don’t worry,” Camelia replied with the same soft smile. “My family is honored to have you here. It’s not every day that distinguished guests come to visit us…” She leaned slightly towards Clarice, gently carrying the back of her hand to her lips as if to tell her a secret. “…other than the Emperor and his Chancellor, I mean,” she finished her sentence in a low voice before straighting up.

“But you’re right, we’ll have plenty of time to discuss the reason for your visit with the others involved later.” The young blonde woman came to pin a new olive on her cocktail pick. “What would you like to know about me?”

“I suppose- um…” Clarice frowns for a moment and puts her drink to her lips trying to puzzle out words, “Huh. You know I don’t have a lot of female friends. I honestly don’t know what girls usually talk about.” She gives Camelia a soft grin, “So I suppose I’d like to know more about growing up here in Altissia. So close to the water, it’s a completely different culture.”

She was usually all business, occasionally it mixed with pleasure but Clarice had spent over a decade learning how to be a shield and diplomat, not how to be a young woman. Even just getting drinking was new to her, she typically avoided anything that might impair her functions. She was almost jealous of how in-control the other woman was, it made her feel out of her depth.

Camelia smiled gently, turning her head for a moment towards the lagoon. “Well… apart from the fact that the sea air is pleasant, that one eats very good dishes based on fish and seafood, and that people seem to have what is called "una dolce vita”? Hmm… I can’t say.“ She sighed gently. "We are fortunate to remain fairly free despite Niflheim’s presence. But many of us have always leaded a double life in the hope that one day we will regain our independence and freedom.”

The young blonde woman turned her attention to Clarice. “I could very well drop everything and make sure that I live my life peacefully on my side, without worrying that the Empire might come looking for trouble. But these are values that I have been taught since I was a child, and I will never abandon my people. As you would not abandon the Lucians.”

Double lives, she knew that feeling well. Trying to live as both a shield and her own person when she was in her late teens had been exhausting. In the end she had picked being a shield over everything else. That had been more important to her than having a social life outside of work. Friends, boyfriends, the one girlfriend that had not lasted longer than a week, and even just going out had all fallen to the wayside the moment Regis asked. If the people here were able to live life in hope of freedom from the empire, more power to them. “I have a lot of respect for your people, it isn’t easy to live with that kind of hope.”

That pointed gaze shocks her slightly as well, she understood the meaning behind the words. Camelia’s people came first, she was helping them because it meant they might be able to help her people in the future. “I understand.” Maybe she was reading too far into it though, “Thank you for coming out with me, I would have been terrified to wander around on my own. I don’t exactly lend to a low profile, and all my clothes are, well…” Dark, work clothes. Crownsguard uniforms. Either purple or black and marked by Mors’ skulls. She looked Lucian, simple as that. “Maybe I should shop while I’m here…”

Camelia smiled gently at her as she took her glass of Martini Bianco back into her hand to bring it to her lips. “You’re welcome, Clarice. It gives me great pleasure to show Altissia to our neighbours on the continent.” She raised an eyebrow when she heard the following sentence of the young woman in front of her and looked at her, tilting her head slightly. It was true that with her typically Lucian clothes, she did not really go unnoticed. The skulls weren’t really a pattern that was found around here. Except maybe those with fish bones. “Do you want us to go shopping after we finish our drinks? I know a few shops where you could find some nice things.”

[frecklessbellamy]

Disunity

(AKA apparently this is the kind of shit that goes through my head when I can't sleep)

NB: not sure if I should add to this? Please let me know what you think!

Not for the first time in recent weeks, Clarke found herself unable to sleep. The difference was that on this occasion, it wasn't due to fear of attack from the grounders, nor worry over how to keep the rest of the delinquents alive, nor any of the other myriad thoughts that occupied her mind on a nightly basis. No, this time it was all because of Bellamy Blake. Something had definitely shifted between them after the events of their disastrous day trip and Clarke was fairly certain that Bellamy felt it too, especially since night of the Unity Day party. (Had they been flirting with each other? Clarke still wasn't sure). Either way, ever since that night, she hadn't been able to get Bellamy out of her head and it was beginning to present a serious problem. For God's sake, hadn't she learned her lesson after Finn? Not to mention, it wasn't so long ago that she and Bellamy had barely been able to stand the sight of each other and now, all of a sudden, she couldn't stop picturing him, for once happy and relaxed, his face lit by the soft orange glow of the firelight and his mouth upturned in a rare smile.

"Best Unity Day ever".

Sitting up in her sleeping bag, Clarke ran a hand through her hair, which she suddenly realised was damp with sweat. She had been tossing and turning for the better part of three hours and her tent was beginning to feel stuffy and oppressive. Maybe some fresh air would help to clear her head and she could finally get some sleep.

Clarke was pretty sure she would never get tired of how different and beautiful the night sky looked from the ground. As she stepped out into the clearing, she tilted her head back to take in the star studded darkness. The moon was full that night and, bathing the trees and tents that surrounded Clarke in an ethereal silver glow. Wrapping her arms around herself to ward off the nighttime chill, Clarke wandered towards the now extinct fire pit. With the rest of the delinquents long since gone to bed, the camp was for once quiet and still. Clarke might almost have called it peaceful, had she not known that just beyond the newly erected wall, the grounders were marshalling their forces, ready to attack.

"Hey there, princess".

The voice that spoke from behind Clarke was one that she would have recognised anywhere and she turned on her heel to find none other than Bellamy Blake himself standing there.

Fuck.

"What are you doing out this late?" he asked her.

Clarke took a deep, steadying breath, trying desperately to ignore her suddenly racing heartbeat. "I couldn't sleep," she replied, forcing herself to keep her voice even. "What's your excuse?"

"Guard duty," Bellamy answered, indicating the rifle strapped across his back. "I took the first shift."

"How was it?"

Bellamy shrugged. "Quiet, my guess is the grounders are just biding their time, waiting for the right moment."

"Well, when they do come, we'll be ready," said Clarke, trying to sound more confident than she felt.

Bellamy nodded, but he didn't look entirely convinced and he cast an anxious glance back over his shoulder towards the wall. "Come on," he said, after a beat. " I'll walk you back to your tent."

The two of them made their way back across the clearing in silence, their footfalls muffled by the damp grass. When they reached Clarke's tent, Bellamy followed her inside. He remained hovering awkwardly by the entrance, the two of them avoiding each other's eyes as Clarke perched herself on the edge of her bedroll and quickly busied herself unlacing her boots.

"I'll leave you to it," he said, after several moments of strained silence, already turning his back on Clarke.

"You don't have to go."

The words were out of Clarke's mouth before she had time think better of them. Bellamy turned back to face her, a wary expression on his face.

"Clarke..."

"I mean it," she said, straightening up and taking a step forward to close the space between them. "I want you to stay."

Clarke didn't really believe in fate, but it was too much of a coincidence that the very person whom she hadn't been able to stop thinking about was now standing in front of her, the two of them alone together, properly alone for the first time ever and she'd be damned if she wasn't going to make the most of the opportunity. She reached out a hand towards Bellamy, but he caught her wrist.

"Don't," he said, an unmistakable note of warning in his tone.

Clarke scoffed, pulling her arm free of Bellamy's grip. "Don't go getting all coy on me now, Blake, it's not like I haven't seen you shirtless before."

Bellamy shook his head, taking a step backwards. "I'm not doing this with you, Clarke," he told her firmly. "Not tonight, not like this".

"Wow," said Clarke, lifting her chin in an effort to hide her embarrassment. "Bellamy Blake says no to sex, that's got to be a first."

Bellamy raised an eyebrow at her. "Nice to know you've got such a high opinion of me, princess."

"I guess I just find it a little ironic," Clarke retorted. "I mean, if I've seen you shirtless, then so has half this camp." She let her eyes drop suggestively down to his zipper before continuing. "Plus more besides."

Bellamy took a deep breath, as though attempting to regain control of himself. "Look, I want to, okay?" He said, sounding pained. "Believe me, I want to." He trailed off as Clarke stepped towards him once more.

"Then what's stopping you?" she demanded. "Is it Raven?"

Bellamy looked taken aback. "How did you...?"

It was Clarke's turn to raise an eyebrow. "Seriously?" she scoffed. "This camp's not that big, did you honestly think no one was going to notice her little walk of shame the other night?"

Bellamy folded his arms defensively across his chest, cocking his head as though daring Clarke to keep talking. "First of all, what Raven and I do is none of your business and second of all, she's got nothing to do with this."

Clarke could tell from Bellamy's tone that she had crossed a line. "I'm sorry," she muttered, dropping her gaze. "I guess I'm not as okay with the whole Finn thing as I like to think I am."

"I knew it," Bellamy suddenly spat, staring at Clarke with barely concealed disgust. "That's what this is about, isn't it? Getting Spacewalker out of your system."

Clarke opened her mouth to protest, but closed it again almost immediately. After all, could she really pretend that it didn't bring her a certain amount of vindictive pleasure to imagine Finn's outrage at discovering she'd slept with the one person in camp whom he couldn't stand? Evidently her silence was answer enough for Bellamy.

"Sorry, princess," he sneered. "But I'm not interested in Spacewalker's sloppy seconds, not this time, anyway."

And with that, Bellamy turned on his heel and disappeared back under the tent flap, leaving Clarke standing there alone, her cheeks burning with shame.

[scriptmin]

Three Inches of Heaven [Pt.3]

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | TBA

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader, Jimin x Reader Genre: Time travel, romance, Royalty AU (Mature themes ahead) | Length: 4.6k

Summary: A bizarre time-warp sends an unsuspecting woman hurtling towards an era of cunning plots, political strife, and strict societal hierarchy—it appeared the world between a few centuries hadn’t been too different after all.

“You there! Servant boy!”

You had only just resumed your descent to the gardens of the castle when a man’s shrill, authoritative dictation had echoed off the stone walls and into the hollowness in the bed of your ear. It was Jungkook who halted first with a sharp upward tug of his shoulder, startled out of the daze which you had left him in, before he was pivoting on the balls of his feet, the wind of his long, flowy robes breezing past you. You followed his motions only a second belated.

“Where is your mis—” Upon the rotation of your body, the natural widening of your scope of vision had accommodated an urgently advancing figure, which had, for a split second, registered in your mind as a cotton ball of blue and white. But as your own profile had come into his sight line, the figure had abandoned all movement, staggering to a stop while his extended index levitated upwards, pointing obnoxiously at you. “My gods, you look ghastly!

Though you barely felt it, you knew your expression must have fallen flat, an indication of unamusement which the man had caught in time with the slow dissolve of his initial mock. He returned his arm back to his side, lips forming a neutral line as the remnants of a smile faded back into taut, golden skin.

“I’d almost mistaken you for one of the servants. They have this walk, you see, slouched and defeated and honestly quite a bit pathe—”

“What is it, Taehyung?”

The man adjusted himself thoroughly this time, shrugging his shoulders straight, hardening his spine. The neutrality on his face had descended into that of sheer boredom, and perhaps hints of annoyance. “It's your brother,” he replied dryly, peering down at you through hooded eyes, “he wants you in his chambers. There was a raven.”

“A raven?” You echoed, anxious. In other words, a text. From somewhere—far. “What about?”

There was a dismissive shake of his head, and the deepening of utter disinterest. “I was not privy. You should see him quickly. Matters with the capital, I think it.”

It was at that moment that you had felt an innate tug at your body, the flexing of the muscles in your neck angling your head towards the man that once stood beside you, and had by that point retreated to a humbled position at the rear of the conversation. Jungkook too, had answered to the call of his own instincts, his wide, mahogany eyes shifting to meet yours, your gazes connecting and igniting in unspoken exchange.

“Best run along now.”

Returning to the nobleman before you, you had gently dipped your chin, according this close kin and friend of yours a temporary farewell, before you were once more treading down the corridor from which you had come. You hadn't made it too far before you were slowing your pace, allowing Jungkook to naturally fall into step beside you. The man was still shackled to the dramatic event from earlier, unable to fight off whatever profound internal monologue that was ongoing in his head.

His expression, which was a cross somewhere between apologetic and guilty, was almost enough to inspire sentiments of your own apology, from having perhaps overreacted at the discovery of something which you had apparently already known. You were not so foolish enough now to fail to recognize the mirror of dynamics between past and present—for the record, the “past” was now and the “present” was the future. Jungkook, be him the cheating ex-boyfriend or the loyal, soft-spoken yet not any less mischievous servant, had consistently managed to uproot you from the grounds you had stood, however momentary.

He mentioned it once; that it was not anyone’s fault that you held so little belief in the things you felt. If you were mad, be mad; if you were annoyed, be annoyed.

“You're the one going belly-up every time we have a fight and you're blaming me for always running you over!”

“Jungkook.” Alas, you had arrived before the heavy, ancient wooden doors of your brother’s private quarters. The travel here had not been short, his room was probably located in a different wing altogether. The smoke-like whispers of musing servants and the hubbub of market noises could not permeate the atmosphere here, the dimly lit stone corridors felt almost soundproof, silencing the very air which wrapped glove-like around your body, tight and warm.

“Yes, m’lady?”

Your hushed exchange was exponentially amplified by the near-vacuum which you stood within, a place where even your soft breaths could be heard like birds in trees. You were careful not to say too much

“If there had been a better choice, I would have fought for it, right?”

If it were possible, the man receded even deeper into his own silence, brooding longer, wandering further. The shadows on his face danced as whimsically as the flickering flames of the torches that lit the walls, casting his complexion in a fickle, part-ethereal orange glow. Jungkook seemed so far away that the baritone vibrations from his throat traveled to you underwater-like, muted and subdued.

“Yes, I believe that.”

You took your lips between your teeth, clenching briefly before you had permitted the servant an affirmative nod. Then you had knocked, had received permission to enter with a muffled, “come in”, from the room’s owner, and had left behind whatever you could of the Jungkook from yesteryear, determined more than ever to go through with the motions of this time if it meant returning your spirit where it rightfully belonged—

in death.

Namjoon’s quarters wasn't anything like you had expected, yet oddly enough, the state of the room didn't come off as surprising. There were the stone-cut windows and wide-open balcony doors identical to yours, but the similarities had ended there with the deep, redwood furniture that starkly contrasted the beiges and whites which made up the aesthetics of your own room. The varnish on the poles of his four-poster bed seemed to have their own shimmer, completely unreliant on the multiple torches that lit the perimeters of the room, and the two candles set up on each upper corner of the ostentatious, masculine study desk that sat perched right before the balcony.

The overall darker palette of the space was watered down by the soft, yellowed pages of open books, unfastened scrolls and loose paper. These were strewn all over the room, across every surface; his bed, the ottoman positioned at the foot of it, his own little round table, complete with a tea set that only peeked barely out from under the foots-long scroll that hung curtain-like down to the floor. The chaos was centralized at his desk, where your brother sat with unhindered focus, ultimate concentration, poring over a tiny, seemingly inconspicuous rectangle scroll that he held between his fingers.

But upon your full entry into the quarters, the last of your long, flowing robes tucked in before the firm shut of the heavy doors behind, Namjoon’s supreme attention had shifted towards you, at no delay at all, with the lifting of his head, the leveling of his worldly gaze with your own, quivering one. You were nervous, but what for?

“Taehyung’s a better messenger than I thought,” he said, smiling easily into his words. “Come, sit.”

Only then did you regain control over your limbs, putting one foot before the other under the floor-length skirt of your clothes, shuffling, essentially, towards one of the two upholstered, red leather armchairs that stood opposite your brother’s own seat.

“He said there was a raven.” Hearing the use of this phrase had not struck you quite as strange as saying it yourself, the combination of words being something completely unheard of in your own time. Nonetheless, you had ignored the rise of goosebumps on your arms, and pushed on, “from the capital.”

Namjoon chuckled idly, his hands trying to administer some order to the mess on his table. Books were shut and stacked, papers were shuffled and arranged to the side, until he had cleared out a small surface area where his busy hands could then rest, clasped in a loose, prayer-like position. Still according you a kind, brotherly grin, he continued, “he’s also better at inferencing than I thought.” He briefly released his hands from their place to hold up the little scroll he had been reading earlier, dangling it in the air before setting it back down, clasping his hands once more. “He’s right. A raven from the royal family, to be precise.”

“Is that good news?”

“I’m afraid not, sister. The capital has sent out ravens to all the Houses of the kingdom, very soon they’ll be having soldiers travel to every city, town and village with official announcements.” Though you would later come to know that the pause he held between his sentence then was that of mournful regret, at that moment it had felt nothing but dramatic, pulling you to the edge of your seat.

“The king is ailing. There seems to be not much time left. With that, naturally, the royal family will wish to find a match for the crown prince, produce an heir, secure the throne—a crown princess selection.”

Good lord, was all that occurred to you in that instance. You had spent barely half a week in this time, but guessing the implications of this was no rocket science.

“Every unmarried maiden in the kingdom must be sent to the capital for screening. I suppose girls of certain ages will be foregone under usual circumstances but this selection will be very different.” Unknown, perhaps, to himself, Namjoon began to fidget—his thumbs twiddling in circles, his pupils shifting every so often. “To hasten the selection, girls will be nominated by the king’s Council, the names of these girls will be entered into a ballot, from which only five candidates will be drawn. As the daughter of a very prominent House and- past… member of Council, you are very likely to be nominated.”

The downward spiral of his tone and the startling recession of the lighthearted, welcoming smile he sported all but minutes ago could hint at only one thing—he didn't want you anywhere near that selection. Or had this simply been your imagination?

“B- but it's only a ballot,” you replied, staggering, through your words, “nothing’s for sure.”

Why was he so worried?

Along with a world-weary sigh that parted his frowning lips, Namjoon’s entire posture had taken a 180-degree turn, abandoning the confident, straight-ruled frame which his spine and shoulders presented earlier, for a more down-to-earth, casual slouch. Though the defeat that hung ambiguously in the atmosphere was slightly unnerving, you found you much preferred this side of him. He had felt more brotherly like this than at any other time you had seen him.

“When you visited Silvercrest Palace with father and I two months ago, the queen had had a word with father in private. In truth, father had already known of the king’s poor health and the new selection arrangements from that point. She had asked a favour of him, which he later passed on to me.”

By that point Namjoon had forsaken all attempts to maintain any form of lordship or nobility, bringing one hand, that appeared wiry and bonier than usual, over his face, his features scrunched into that of utter exhaustion and defeat. This was not comforting in the slightest.

“She promised him that she would guarantee a successful draw of your name in the ballot, and from there, a smooth passage in ascending to crown princess, if you agree to let yourself be nominated. Kind as father may be, he was cruel to me in never making any sort of decision in this matter before his death. And the queen has sent, in secret, another scroll expecting a favourable reply.”

“Hang on, so… you mean we can refuse the nomination?” At this, Namjoon had scrubbed the hand down the expanse of his face, releasing a sigh through his nose before resting his head against a clenched fist. He looked so burned out. “Then why don't we simply refuse?”

“Considering that things are different this selection in that it's no longer an obligation… there are no laws that say we cannot reject a nomination. But more than that…” he was hesitant with his next words, glancing at you briefly before quickly averting his gaze elsewhere. What was wrong? “I didn't think you would ever consider refusing…”

You were ready to combust. What on bloody earth did he mean by that? Did he want you to enter the selection or not?

There was another sigh—yours this time. But you hadn't gotten as far as formulating even a word in your reply before Namjoon had spoken up.

“You've… changed, you know?” You frowned. “You're a lot, how should I say, calmer. It's like you aged a few years, gained maturity, become this… beautiful, grown woman.”

“Namjoon—”

“I have to be truthful with you,” he said, adjusting himself so that he sat a tad straighter, more somber. “I don't want you back in the palace. It was so hard to get you out and- and I fear what returning to such an environment might do to you. Some things… are just better forgotten.”

“Namjoon,” you declared firmly now, “you don't get to decide what memories I keep and what I let go of. Whatever it is… help me. Help me remember.”

You could feel the nervous palpitations of Namjoon’s heart from your position across his desk. You could feel it pulse around you, constricting and releasing, constricting and releasing; most of all you could feel the heat, the intensity with which he used in protecting you, sheltering your sights, choosing only the prettiest things to show you. He loved his sister—but god… you only wished you were her. Truly her.

“Father died in the palace. You almost lost your own life. I can't afford to lose any more family. You…” Bringing his two hands together, he had cupped your own resting ones, which were cold and clammy, in a sweaty but warm envelopment. You could feel it ebb into you, his plea and fear. Namjoon was just a boy too. “You're all I have left.”

“Then I just won't win. I just won't let myself be picked, that'll do, won't it? I can come home after that.” There was not much you could do but grasp back, your fingers threading with his. Under the pad of your thumb, you could feel the ripples of his pulse, vibrant and erratic. But somehow it had still felt like pulling at a fraying end of a cloth, the more you wanted to hold on to this, the more it came apart. His sister was long gone—he had lost everything. What much else could you do? Why were you even here?

“I wish that were the case but…” His eyes shut under the deep pinch of eyebrows, along with the instant drop of his shoulders, the release of yet another breath. “Of the five candidates, only the two who are eliminated in the first round will be sent home. It's quite impossible for you to fail to qualify—the first round looks at influence and status, only few can rival us in those aspects.

The remaining three, whether or not they become the princess, must remain on in the palace. Two will be concubines, forever sworn to the king’s imperial harem but will never be accorded the respect and attention a queen receives. As much as the prince loves you, rules and tradition will keep him from you. How can you expect me to stand and watch a girl who crosses plains on horseback faster than any man I've seen be placed behind a glass window, a puppet who dances in the queen’s shadow?”

“Then what- what do you want me to do, Namjoon?”

“Why don't you run?”

There were many worse fates to endure than being stuck in the body of a highborn girl, like ending up as a prostitute, or a debtor’s daughter, forced to beg on the streets—that was, if you even wanted to try and live.

You imagined suicide then would be much uglier than drowning in a pond dressed in silks and jewelry. You imagined your body would fester on the streets for days before anyone bothered to take notice, and it’d lay there a while more for the rats to have at it before anyone came to move you away, burn you somewhere at the edge of a forest along with the other bodies that no one thought to claim.

When you thought about that, running was not an option. Of course that wasn't to say that Namjoon would ever let you suffer a fate like that, even while on the run. But as bizarre as this occurrence might be, surely you must have been put in this body for a reason.

Perhaps you had not simply possessed it—perhaps this was a swap. The places of your “deaths” were both bodies of water, and—you were careful in thinking this—both had likely to be intentional.

Your fingers dipped shallowly into the icy cold waters of a black pond, swirling idly, drawing vague semi-circles in the water, the only light a shimmering silver crescent that flickered eerily in the ripples of water. In the back of your mind, you wondered if she was there on the other side—waking up frazzled and distraught in a foreign time, just like you had. You'd feel sorry for her, because unlike you, she has no one around her to ease her into it. If she tried to come back, would you be ejected out from this body like a CD?

You smiled at the thought.

But ultimately, it was the dramatic tail of your discussion with Namjoon that lingered in broken chunks in the front of your thoughts, punctuated by the hum of cicadas, winds rustling in the trees, the occasional soft pop! when the fish in the pond broke the surface.

Now in retrospect, you had gained a basket full of insight into the life you had taken over. These details were not given time to embed in your head before, but as you stood crouched in the silent garden in the wee hours of the morning, a destination found on your own accord after having creeped out of your chambers from sleeplessness, left to your own devices for the first time since, you had been given the space, both physical and mental, to afford any real thought to the bigger picture for your presence in this time.

This garden had been difficult to find. It wouldn't be a stretch to say that this place wasn't one that could be found by those who strove to find it, rather, it was stumbled upon, after various blind turns and throwing caution to the wind. The true owner of this body would have been familiar enough with her own home to know the exact location, but perhaps on her last night, it was the same aimless feet and thoughtless wandering that came to you that had claimed her as well.

Guesswork wouldn't have brought you this far without the information Namjoon had slipped to you unknowingly—or knowingly. Something about her father’s death had bothered this girl, more than it had affected Namjoon. It was strange, suspicious even, that something could happen at the same time and place to two prominent members, as Namjoon had mentioned, of the king’s court. You imagined this hidden factor was a secret that no one else knew but her, otherwise Namjoon would not have been so naïve as to deem her accident here at this pond a mere fall.

Something made her want to die. Something only she knew—and now she was gone. Lost to time.

The faceless, and thus far nameless (until your history lessons decide to come back to you), prince was also another pivotal piece of information. Her relationship with him was surely far from trivial if someone like the queen would interfere in favour of their development, going as far as to manipulate what should have been a fair selection regarding her son’s future. Although, the word fair here was subjective—every candidate would have their supporters, ministers, officials, relatives of the royal family, who would similarly fight for opportunities the same way the queen had promised to do for you. For her.

The prince loved her. Yet he had done nothing in reaching out to her after hearing of her “fall”—he must have known. Namjoon was in the capital then. But even that had something off about it.

Hearing his unspoken sentiments, there was no way he would return to a place so deeply entwined with the demise of his family if he were not forced to be there. Summoned, perhaps, by authorities greater than himself. Those weren't many, you learned, only few members of Council and the king could do so. Or perhaps, there was something he had to achieve, that the advantages the sacrifice would bring was enough to banish any hesitance from his contemplations.

“I thought I'd find you here.”

The slipping of another human voice in an atmosphere dominated by the sounds of nature had quite effectively shattered the little dream-like bubble of space you had created for yourself. A quick whip of your head around had you identifying this voice in no time at all. Jeon Jungkook.

“How did you know?” You said, rising to your feet. You were careful in stepping away from the edge of the pond, earlier which you had been leaning dangerously over.

“I came to replace the candles in your chambers. I knew they would burn out in the middle of the night. Didn't want you to be cold, m’lady.” He was standing at an awkward distance, three strides too far away, as if he were afraid, like you were disease-plagued. Or maybe it was he himself.

You nodded faintly in response, gaze falling downwards at a loss for words. It was then that you noticed that he had been carrying something, draped over his arms which were held at an angle against his sides. His usual stance. It was a cloak, you realised. And having followed your line of sight, glancing down, Jungkook seemed to recall this.

“Thought you would be out here a while. Would you like me to help you put it on, m’lady?”

“Yes, please.”

Jungkook only moved after a lag. Even then his movements were robotic and foreign, as if his limbs were borrowed and not quite a good match in his joints. You turned your back to him so he could drape the velvety fabric over your shoulders, your own hands reaching up to tie the strings in the front.

“Thank you,” you said, returning to face him.

“Was if an unfortunate conversation with your brother? Is that why you're out here?”

“No and yes.” You had then turned in the opposite direction, towards the stone bench that sat on the other side of the pond, trusting him to follow. Sweeping the train of your clothes under your weight, you sat on the further edge of the bench, leaving a space for the man to join you. Which he did, belatedly again, after a prompt with your eyes. “I learnt a lot just now. Namjoon admitted that there were certain memories he kept from me. I told him he couldn't decide that on my behalf.”

You paused at that moment, waiting to see if the implications would sink in. It appeared Jungkook was more perceptive than you gave him credit for, having treated him with biasness after your original experiences with him.

He visibly hesitated, his chin dropping, soft hair falling over his eyes, fingers fidgeting, his shoulders and frame rising and falling. A sigh—his sigh.

“It was I who pulled you from the pond, as I had recounted to your brother when he returned. But I was not wholly truthful with him, out of respect for you, m’lady.” The voice was soft as a murmur, but the moonlight in his round, boyish eyes burned at an intensity greater than the sun’s. This heat had only momentarily afflicted you when your gazes met and tore away with the split-second shift of his eyes, but it was a heat that warmed you so much more than the cloak that wrapped around your body.

“You had tied a stone to your ankles. I could only pull you after I had undone the knot. The weight of your clothes made it a difficult task on its own. They were not clothes you wear for the summer, m’lady. I left these details out of the story I told your brother. I assumed that if this decision of yours was something you would want to keep from a servant like me, all the more you wished the same for your brother. Unless another witness has told him otherwise, I suppose Lord Namjoon remains unaware of this truth.”

“Then how did you know where I would be?”

“I… I followed you, m’lady, even though you ordered to be left in peace for the morning. I must apologize for disobeying your instructions but I dared not leave you unguarded after your return from the palace. You were not the same girl that descended Light Hill for the first time. For sure I knew it was the passing of your lord father that afflicted you, but… it was worse than I ever dared to imagine. I wish I had gone with you, m’lady, I would have protected you with my life. Maybe… things could have been different now.”

The soft intonations of his speech were surely designed to placate, to smooth and calm an otherwise jarring delivery of news. But the words had been so gentle, so cautious, that you could not help but guess that more intimate motivations could possibly have driven the way in which he spoke this to you. Could there perhaps be personal emotions that spurred under his words? Could there perhaps be sentiments that defied the professional relationship he held with you, that he experienced a magnitude of devastation, disappointment and hurt far beyond that of what he articulated?

This possibility shouldn't be something that surprised you, for despite the betrayal that you would eventually come to experience, Jeon Jungkook had, in fact, loved you. It was only that this memory of him was so fleeting compared to the subsequent years of a downhill spiral that would eventually lead you to that bridge over the riverbank. It had been so easy to forget this memory, so easy to convince yourself that it hadn't existed to begin with—because it was so much easier to cope with something you never had rather than to grovel in the loss of something you had only ever grasped by a thin thread.

What would you convince yourself of this time if he had indeed harboured affections for you?

“Namjoon told me something else too.” This was something you said after a moment of silence for the conversation to breathe, the information to sink in. You wanted to confide in him, as he had with you. “The kingdom will see a new crown princess soon, chances are it will be me, but he doesn't want that to happen. I can't imagine how cornered he must feel for him to suggest running away. Literally, y’know? Live in hiding.”

“Well… what did you say?”

“I told him I'd think about it.”

There was genuine curiosity on his face when he glanced at you, brows raised and slightly pinched, his eyes wider than ever. “And have you? Thought about it?”

“I have.” You found yourself grinning softly at him, at the childlike reflection of a boy you knew from once upon a time. In this reflection, you too were a different girl, from a different time. Maybe things could change, now.

“I don't want to run anymore.”

[ask-svt-hearteu]

college! Jun

Anon requested: “hullo!!! can i request a college!au for jun? (in the point form and stuff) thank you && i love your aus and posts in general <3”

Genre: fluff

Word Count: 2541

A/N: I legit thought this AU would be easy to write. Turns out, writing someone as a college student when you're not a college student is hard af. I apologize in advance if this was written poorly and didn't reach your expectations lolol -admin soph

double majoring in Performing Arts 

particularly in Dance Focus just like Minghao 

and a Theatre Arts Major in Acting 

has a scholarship so double majoring made it possible for him

having double majors made him really busy all the time 

but he still manages to have time for his friends 

whenever he has free time,

can always be seen in the picnic area of the Campus with his other major friends 

or usually with Minghao, Joshua, and Wonwoo reading in the corner of the university library 

talking about how the author should’ve just done this or that 

when they really should be reading up for the upcoming semester exam

"I dont understand why we need to learn about the history of tap dancing for a whole week." 

"Because the professor likes to give us busy work get over it." 

"Honestly just slap stuff on a paper and he’ll give you an A" 

"Shouldn’t you guys be studying on your upcoming Music Theory test." 

"Shush Joshua." 

or in the studio going through the choreo he, Minghao, Hoshi and Chan made for a performance project and the upcoming winter recital 

or just staying in his dorm, catching up on sleep 

when a show is announced to happen 

he works double 

like seriously

the shows are where theyre able to showcase their talents and what they major in 

so performance majors and theatre majors are made to perform on the same day 

and it stresses him out a lot but he always make sure to do his best 

he has to make and memorize like 2 choreographies with his dance team for the dance performance and has to memorize his lines and get into his character for his acting performance 

even with all these work he would still try to try other things 

like singing and rapping ∙

he can sing pretty well to be in fact but just like Minghao, people wont give him vocal lines for shows smh

outside his major classes, he only chose to take one minor course and that was Linguistics in Korean Language 

thats the only course you both have together actually 

youre an Astronomy Major 

and the only courses you take outside of your major is Linguistics and History 

you have been in Korea for some time now but you still haven’t mastered the language so you thought the Linguistics course might help

you and Jun dont talk much though 

the only time you two were able to talk was when the professor partnered the two of you together and made you guys differentiate different satoori accents 

and that one time you bumped into him on your way to the library 

you also always see him in the picnic area with his friends when you wander around different departments 

sometimes you would sit either on a bench or under a tree, reading a book and you would hear music coming out of a speaker near you 

and you'll see Jun with his dance team practising 

you also noticed how different he is when he is with his friends 

in class, he is this quiet reserved guy sitting at the back, listening to the professor while spinning a pen around his fingers 

with his friends, he is really outgoing and a huge dork 

you would hear him exchanging jokes with Wonwoo and you would quietly laugh at how corny it is 

"What did the dog say to the wall?" 

"Jun stop it's now funny an-." 

"Wolwol" woof woof" in korean

"Aish. Why am I even friends with you?" wonwoo mutters as he quietly think of a better joke

you also would hear him messing around with Joshua 

"Im still offended that you didnt want to go biking with me again after what happened last semester." 

"Hyung. When we got back I honestly thought I was going to pass out right there and then. And you kept leaving me behind." 

"Because you kept taking selcas whenever we took a break, istg Junhui."

and you would hear him talking about a dance he found on youtube with Hoshi 

"They werent hitting the beats on time." 

"Yes but they were expressing the lyrics with their dance." 

"But hitting the beats with the dance moves would look better. And with the dance moves they’re doing, its possible." 

and mostly him just annoying Minghao 

"Jun I swear, stop."

"Were getting all thug now are we?"

"wE AGREED TO NEVER SPEAK ABOUT THAT." 

okay so you were just sitting alone in the University Library, studying for your upcoming test about Astronomy History 

when someone just sat down infront of you 

causing you to slightly jump back from your seat 

"Oh jesus christ jisoos chirst Jun, you scared me." 

"Sorry, my friends wont let me study in peace and all of the tables are taken and you’re the only one I know. I was just wondering if I could study here instead?" he softly smiles at you hopefully

your internally squealing at how adorable he looked with that smile with his messy hair and black hoodie and sweatpants asdfdksla

"Yeah of course, no problem." 

"Thank you." 

and with that, he brought out his books and you both were studying quietly

you can see him looking at you every once and a while 

it made you anxious tbh 

because you thought you had something on your face 

a few minutes later he just put down his book and spoke 

"We don’t talk that much, what major are you?" 

"Im an astronomy major" you replied as you close your book 

"You study space. Wow. Well, I double major in Performance Arts and Theatre arts. " 

you nod, "yeah I see you in shows and recitals. " 

"Oh so you watch me," he smirked, teasing you

you try not to let the blush creeping up show, but before you can reply,

"Im just kidding~ " he chuckles, smiling at you 

"just study" you huff, jokingly being annoyed, that pink flush on your cheeks

 you wont deny that Jun is pretty handsome

and pretty dAMN HOT

and you were pretty sure that you were just attracted to his face since you still dont know him that well 

so you were confused as hell as to why you were blushing and your heart was beating so fast

minutes passed and you still were thinking about why you and your face reacted like that

you didnt even notice Jun looking at through the top of his book

and glancing up, you looked right back at him 

both of your gazes meeting 

you wanting to look away but his eyes, they sparkled like the shining stars you see through a telescope

it looked like a whole different galaxy 

you were able to regain your self-control and you averted your gaze back to what you were reading 

so you didn’t see him stare at you longer for a moment, dazed by your eyes

tired of studying, you have just been rereading the same paragraph over and over again 

you just wanted to go to the student cafe and get a mocha latte 

somehow, Jun read your mind 

"You have been staring at that page for forever, you wanna take a break and go the cafe?" 

"Did you just read my mind Wen Junhui?" you chuckle

"What if I did y/l/n y/f/n?" 

"Then you should already know my answer" you wink playfully

he just grins at your response 

on the way out, you guys passed by Junhui's table of friends 

one of them was a girl 

so you figured that it might be one of his friends girlfriends 

"Me and y/n are going to the student cafe, if you need me, I'm there," Jun said to them before waving goodbye 

the whole 10 minutes walk to the cafe was filled with a lot of talking 

Jun told you about how he met his friend Minghao 

how he literally spat on his face on their first meeting because of his braces 

you told him why you decided to move to Korea 

why you decided to take Astronomy 

arriving at the cafe, you both ordered your lattes and sat at a booth near the window

as you both were talking, the conversation got kind of serious

Jun told you about why he chose two majors 

because he didnt want to limit himself to only one

and that he also found his passion for dancing growing through the majors he took 

the two of you talked about how its hard to be away from your loved ones 

mostly about yourselves was the main topic 

after hours that seemed like minutes of talking, 

you both exchanged numbers and went back to your dorms 

you both started hanging out a lot after that 

he memorized your schedule, you memorized his 

knowing when the other was free, the two of you also had this cycle 

he would visit you in your department, get a latte, and walk to the library 

sometimes you would be the one who would visit him 

but the cycle goes on 

you learned a lot about him 

you learned that he is basically this tall cat person who is a big dork on the inside 

he would text you lame ass jokes at 3am 

he would even call you at 3am just to remind you that he is handsome

which is true, but he didnt have to wake you up at 3am to remind you that

and the more the two of you hung out, the more your feelings for him deepens 

he is just this precious dork that you want to protect 

today was Jun's free time 

before you could text him and ask if he wanted to hang out, 

he beat you to it 

‘A little birdy told be were both free. Do you want to stop by at the studio and hang out with us? :>’ 

‘Sure Hui. Are they okay with me being there?’ 

‘Of course, dont worry about it." 

"Okay see you in a bit." 

you decided to buy lattes for everyone before going to the studio 

they’ll be tired from practising so you really didnt mind buying 5 lattes 

when you got there, they were sitting in the middle of the room, sweating and panting 

you greet them and hand them their lattes

"Thank you y/n~ Jun your girlfriend is the best." Hoshi giggles, making you stutter

 "I-I’m not his girlfriend,” you say half chuckling

"Yet." he whispers, you not hearing

you have only hung out with his friends a few times 

but they already made you feel like you were part of the group, talking with them for hours 

they even let you watch the recent dance they made for a project

and ofcourse, they kept teasing you and Jun

"Jun how dare you let your girlfriend walk around campus alone." 

he glances at you, with a look you can’t decipher

"She isn’t my girlfriend."

after a while, you decided it was time to go back to your dorm 

you said your goodbyes to them before going 

"You like her. Be honest." Minghao says as he nudges Jun 

"Maybe I do, she doesn’t feel the same." Jun sighs

"Theres only one way to find out." Hoshi points out, grinning 

"Ask her out." Chan says as he pats Jun on the back 

"I will." Jun smiles at them, trying his best to be confident 

okay so your request of using the observatory room has been accepted

today was your free time, so what better way to spend it other than stargazing 

you invited Jun but he still hasn’t responded 

so you went there on your own 

you honestly liked being alone with the stars 

it made you feel at home 

after staying there for a while Jun texted you saying that he’ll be there in a few minutes 

when he came, you were laying down on the floor and just looking up in the sky 

so he just lays down next to you 

it stayed like that for a few minutes 

"Did you know that we’re basically made from stardust? Its amazing to think that those beautiful stars are made from the same thing." you say, breaking the silence 

"Is that really true?" he asks, turning to you 

"I like to believe that its true” you say softly, continuing to stare

"It probably is. Because ever since we talked, you have been my brightest star in my darkest days." he said in a whisper like manner,

but you still heard it 

you didnt say anything else 

your heart was beating rapidly at this point 

you were honestly biting the inside of your cheek just in case you were dreaming 

WHAT THE HELL IS HAPPENING 

you were basically freaking out inside 

"What?" you ask nervously

"....I was just wondering...if you want to go have dinner with me sometime?" he asks shyly 

"Like a date?" you say, turning to stare at him

"Doesnt have to be! Lets just pretend I didnt say that" he says quickly 

"Oh, too bad. I was gonna say yes." you reply, teasing him

"....really?" his eyes brightening

“Yes Hui." 

with you still laying on the floor, he sits up, grabbing your hands

staring down at you

"Then I take it back,” he smiles happily, “Will you go have dinner with me sometime?"

"I would love to Junhui." you reply, smiling back

and so he lays back down, closer to you this time

your shoe grazing his leg

his hand gently looping your fingers in his

when Junhui told his friends that the two of you were dating, 

almost in unison, "WE KNEW IT!!" 

after a while, it started spreading across Junhui's department and yours 

you honestly didnt know it would be this big of a deal 

Jun would always visit you 

AND I MEAN ALWAYS 

even on days where he is really busy, he would still visit you 

you find it really sweet 

and loving that smile that would light up on his face, 

you would also visit him at his studio 

the boys have taken you in as one of them 

it feels like you’re a part of this big family 

and Jun being cheesy, for the first and last Saturday of every month,

he would reserve the observatory and you two will spend your free time there 

he would put a blanket on the floor and bring food 

and you two would stargaze, eat and talk for hours

or Jun saying pick up lines for hours

"I must be the Sun and you must be Earth, cause the closer we get, the hotter you become." he says winking 

"Jun...why." you say, covering your face in slight embarrassment

"No~ dont cover your face. I want to see the way stars shine in your eyes." he replies cheekily

"Jun one more I swear. Where do you even get all of these?” 

you say questioning why you fell for this huge dork

as you blush really hard

“from my love for you”

Jun honestly loves making you blush 

looking at you, awed by your rosy cheeks

pulling you in close and wrapping his arms around you 

he kisses your head 

“My love for you is like the universe. Incredibly big and expanding vastly everyday."

MASTERLIST

[satin-swallow]

Mystery at Mountbatten || Chapter Five || What the Auctioneer Inspector Saw

“‘[I]sn’t that the very fashion of ghosts,’ Phryne said, ‘finding some new means of saying something when their voices are lost?’”  

Fandom: Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries Characters: Phryne Fisher & Jack Robinson Rating: T Genre: Mystery/Suspense/Ghost Story

After the arrival of Arthur's parents, Jack and Phryne are forced to follow up on the most ready clues - no matter how absurd.

Please read and comment at AO3 if you have a moment. Thank you!

“The main thing about ghosts – most of them have lost their voices.”

(Rick Riordan, The Blood of Olympus)

~*~*~

“I’m surprised we didn’t take the train,” Phryne coaxed as she and Jack stood side-by-side on Henry Taylor’s verandah, out of the mid-afternoon, Ballarat sun.

Jack smirked, “Mrs Collins informed me that you have a taste for hanging from carriages. Considering the corroborating evidence I have as to your taste for standing on them, I’d much rather your head remained attached to your body.”

He was back in some good humour, and Phryne entertained his protectiveness with an express hope that the levity would continue. He had held her rather earnestly after Mac had left, and the arrival of Arthur’s parents from Adelaide the following morning had brought out a determination that had sunk itself decisively into the kiss he had stolen the first moment they had been alone after meeting them. She would not quickly forget the way his fingers had closed around her shoulders, or the way he had stepped into her - until her hands had met the front of his desk – as though he could draw strength just from touching her. If it had been any other day, she might have teased him for it, but as it was, he had gone on as though nothing at all had happened.

“I’m not sure why you let me drive, then,” she played now, instead.

“Well, I knew there’d be another head in peril if I tried to stop you.”

She chuckled, “I do love an intelligent man.”  

The turn of his head was slight, lingering on the sound of that word on her lips, and the softness of the action made Phryne want to say it again. Of all the stories of ghosts she’d heard in the past days, the one of his lips pressed so urgently against hers was undoubtedly the most vivid.

The same determination that had driven that kiss had meant that the interviewing of Mr Taylor had been pressed forward from a ‘convenient’ Thursday to the more insistent ‘today’, and she had no doubt that whatever time Jack would have for the man’s sufferings, it would take a back seat to his increasing fight for poor Arthur Johns.

If there was a connection, he would find it. If not – in honesty, she wouldn’t allow the thought.

“Good afternoon. Inspector?” came a warm voice from behind the fly screen, as the door opened.

“Mrs Partridge? This is my associate, Miss Phryne Fisher. She’s a detective assisting the constabulary with its enquiries,” Jack replied.

“Yes, please do come in,” she immediately opened the door, “Mr Taylor is in his study.”

They entered with a quiet respect, and the housekeeper closed the door behind them, moving down the entrance hall towards a study at the end of the corridor, “We’ve just heard the announcement from Arthur Johns’ parents on the wireless.” She hesitated, “It’s been a difficult morning.”

“Thank you for understanding our urgency,” Jack replied.

“I think Henry really wants to help, if he can,” Mrs Partridge said, “but bringing the whole incident up is hard on him. Go easy on him, if you can?”

“Of course,” Jack’s voice was tinged with a compassion that could not leave him.

The study was dark by all normal standards, the sunlight they’d avoided held at bay by heavy curtains for the most part. In every other measure it was immaculately kept, the desk so well arranged that it appeared as though a measuring stick had been employed to make sure the objects on it were practically equidistant. As Phryne and Jack entered, and eyesight began to adjust, it was clear that the shelves – lined with books on any number of antiques – were as fastidiously managed; a small box of library cards on the blotter indicated just how fastidiously.

Henry Taylor had been seated near the window, and stood as soon as his guests arrived, apologising for the darkness and extending a hand in greeting. He seemed perfectly healthy, a strong build for his age – which Phryne guessed to be in the mid-sixties, and a crop of thick, grey hair, indicating every hope of physical well-being. It was not what either expected of the invalid who had seemed so difficult on the other end of the telephone. “The sunlight,” he explained the curtains, “it can be so invasive on days like this, and I’m afraid I won’t be much use if I fall prey to a headache.”

Jack found the explanation as reasonable as he’d found Reginald Winslow’s on wall-licking, and yet both still seemed too extraordinary to simply accept.

“Thank you for seeing us, Mr Taylor,” Phryne said, “as I’m sure you can understand, we’re very anxious to learn what we can to help Arthur Johns.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” he gestured at two chairs on the other side of his desk, “Please, sit down. If you don’t mind, I’d like to have Mrs Partridge with me?”

“Not at all,” Jack allowed.

They all sat, and silence settled.

Where did one begin, really?

“Mr Taylor,” Jack tried, forging ahead as Phryne had known he would, “as I mentioned to Mrs Partridge on the telephone: in the course of our investigation of recent events in Monterrey, it has come to our attention that you might have information… pertinent to our enquiries.”

Henry breathed deeply, “Yes, she said so. Honestly, Inspector, I’m not sure - ”    

“We need to know about Mountbatten,” Jack ran it off at the pass, refusing to allow the man the out.

What he saw on Henry’s face was not resistance, per se, but immediate anxiety.

“Yes.” He paused before getting up from his chair and pacing to the window. “It’s funny,” he began, “thirty years of treatment, and it’s still impossible to talk about.”

Another pause.

“Mr Taylor, we understand it must be difficult,” Phryne soothed.

“Do it for Arthur,” Jack finished, his tone neither bullying nor manipulative, but straight nonetheless. Phryne glanced over at him as he eradicated small talk for the meat of the matter, refusing to tread too lightly. It was a peculiar talent of his, a decidedly attractive trait that managed to confront an issue directly and somehow still clothe it in abject respect.

Jack simply kept his sights on the man at the window.    

Henry swallowed. “All I can tell you is what I saw,” he said.

“That’s all we’re asking.”

He turned back around and met the gauntlet that had been laid down, feeling the challenge, and the invitation to rise to it.  

“Any information might prove important at this stage,” Phryne encouraged, noting that the firmer hand was working, but offering a safe space nonetheless. His eyes drifted over to her, and he sighed.

It came slowly at first, but as he began to speak, the words seemed to string themselves together.

“I’d been an Auctioneer’s Inspector… about ten years - the auction house had… hired me straight out of the History Department at the university. They were looking for someone skilled with dating, authentication… I’d earned my stripes doing some research for one of the Professors in Regency pieces. It was an invaluable skillset for an auction house whose business was dealing with failing family fortunes, and old heirlooms,” it was nostalgic, a life that he had clearly spent some time grieving.

The pair let him talk.

“The… Lady of the House had been dead fifteen years, but because of the irregularity of the owner’s disappearance, it took some time for it to come to auction. It wasn’t until the relatives brought in a new lawyer that there was even momentum enough to have Lord Cavanaugh declared absent in the maintenance of the property, giving the Courts room to discharge it to the family for appropriate management.”

Phryne watched as his shoulders clenched upward, and his breath shook as he clearly fought back his urge for silence.

“It seemed a simple enough job,” he recalled, “largely typical items, except for Lord Cavanaugh’s study – I’d been informed he was an explorer of some nature, and that the contents of his collection were likely looking at being presented to a museum. It wasn’t until two weeks into the job that they asked me to do a preliminary evaluation of the room, at all, and account for rough estimates. I’d informed them right off the bat that it would be impossible without a trained expert in antiquities, and exotic artefacts.”    

The anger of blame was clearly still present.

“What happened on the night you left, Mr Taylor?” Phryne encouraged, and Jack felt it as though she’d stepped up beside him - it was always a heady experience.

His breath was a rush of air, then, and he looked to the ground as his features crunched in on themselves. His hand shook much as Josephine Randall’s had. “I – uh – “ another rushed breath, “I - I’m sorry.”

“Take your time, Henry,” Mrs Partridge sat forward in her chair for the first time, “just breathe.”

He seemed to regain some measure of control at her words before he nodded and stepped forward to take his seat. “It’s been harder with the news,” he explained, clearly trying to speak.

Jack’s brow had settled into a distinct frown, and he looked at Phryne for the first time since they’d sat down. Whatever he had thought of the man’s delicacy, he recognised in his movements a familiar sort of trauma – the sort of thing he’d seen in dozens who had been to war. Phryne felt the same, and again the intrigue of ghostly legends became a reality of horror, and moved into a distinct unsettling about just what was going on at Mountbatten Hall.    

After a moment, Henry had clenched his fist into an illusion of control, and seemed ready to speak once more. “I was taking inventory of the study,” he started again, “moving through, artefact by artefact, and examining each for origin, cross-checking with the ledger Lord Cavanaugh kept. I’d just finished examining an Oriental tea set – a Ming Dynasty beauty, early fifteenth century; it had a small chicken motif. Extraordinary. I – I heard a noise in one of the… upstairs bedrooms… The house was supposed to be empty, you see, and expressly under lock and key during the evaluation. Anyway, I – I called out from downstairs -”

“What time was this?” Jack asked.

Henry looked at him incredulously, “I’m not sure I could tell you, Inspector?”

Jack tilted his head, “And yet you can remember a fifteenth-century chicken motif?”

A small smile, “It’s the extraordinary that stands out, Inspector, even when the ordinary is most important.”

It wasn’t the ideal response.

“I called out from downstairs,” Henry continued, “and heard nothing, so I was about to turn back to my work when it happened again. This time, though, I was convinced it sounded like – footsteps.” He stopped the shake returning as he closed his eyes.

“Still coming from upstairs?” Phryne asked quietly.

Henry nodded, “I thought it might be the groundskeeper, Harcourt – he was angry about the sale, and he’d already argued with the lawyer about it. I thought he might have snuck in to liberate some of his Master’s property. So – I – I went up the… stairs.”

Again he stopped, and his jaw clenched shut as the story threatened nearness to being told. Jack took a steady breath in, clearly feeling his impatience despite his sympathy. They waited nonetheless.

“As soon as I hit the landing, I knew something wasn’t right,” he forced out, his voice now taught, “the air was – thick, cloying. I couldn’t breathe – ” he shut his eyes as though trying to recall, “I waited for a long time and just tried to focus. I was - I was afraid. I’d heard rumours about the place, and I don’t care how rational you are, when you’re there… All I could hear for a time was the sound of my own breathing in the dark. I finally plucked up the courage to call out, but there was no response. It was strange, I felt the urge to check the Master Bedroom, like I was – summoned.”

Jack’s brow raised instantly despite himself, and Phryne felt the blow that it struck to Henry’s credibility.

“The air was so sweet, though, like it was fevered, I couldn’t think straight…” he tried to collect, “when I got to the bedroom it - it was empty.”

He opened his eyes, and all momentum in the story ceased. He looked up at Phryne and Jack.

A moment passed.

“And - ?” Phryne finally pressed, not caring to hold it simply for the suspense.

Henry looked confused, “And? And what?”

“And what happened next?” Jack pressed.

The older man looked stricken, “I – I don’t know, Inspector. I haven’t been able to recall - not at all - I thought you knew that, I - ”

Phryne had rarely seen Jack truly angry, his emotions so keenly balanced and impeccably maintained, but she could feel the escalation to apoplectic that set itself squarely in his shoulders as he tried again, “Mr Taylor, thirty years of your life vanished before your eyes because of that night - and you recall nothing but an empty bedroom?”

Henry heard the implication, and shame blossomed on his face, thirty years of that familiar look in someone else’s eyes - his wife, his employer. His clenched fist began to shake with emotion, and his features constricted, “It’s never been clear, it’s always the same nebulous – “

“Two men are dead, and a boy is missing,” Jack’s voice finally raised.

“I know,” he tried to defend, “I’m sorry. I’m so - ”  

Phryne’s hand had immediately clenched around Jack’s wrist, squeezing tight against what she knew he felt, her own disbelief descending simultaneously.  

“Mr Taylor,” she focused the conversation, “why did the auction never go ahead?”

The question diverted so neatly from the trauma, from the failing he had lived with for so many years, it shocked the man into silence. He breathed, and Jack took a moment to do the same.  

“As far as I heard, the family withdrew,” he offered, “I couldn’t tell you why.”

“And your evaluation of the study,” she asked, “how far into it were you when this all occurred?”  

He frowned in thought, venturing into a space he had never thought to go, “I was close to the end, it was the reason I was there so late, I thought I could finish.”

“And there was nothing unusual in your inspection to that point?”

“Like what?”

“Any items of unusual value, or –“

“Miss Fisher, they were all unusual items. The ledger was full – “

The ledger.

A new line of question opened up suddenly before her, “Nothing was unaccounted for? In the ledger?”

Henry stopped once more, “Nothing that I had noticed. But my inspection wasn’t yet concluded, I was interrupted. I was interrupted.” It was like a light switching on, and when he looked up, it was with the shock of that illumination - any new angle was more forthcoming than the tangle of thoughts that had hounded him for so long. “It was kept in the bureau behind the desk, locked at all times when I was there.”

He blinked.

“Mr Harcourt kept the key.”

***

“I’m sorry,” Phryne said as they left the house to return to the Hispano, her voice reflecting on the tension in Jack’s shoulders.

“Don’t be,” came his immediate reply, “you were right.”  

“Oh, I know that,” she stopped him, forcing him to look at her with a mere comment. He did so, interrupting his frustration, and unconsciously allowing her to speak her next straight through him, “But I’m sorry for the strain nonetheless.”

It soothed, and Jack eyed her with a smile as they fell in step once more. “It’s true I like my lines straight,” he reflected even as his steps still strode forward with his characteristic surety, “why look at X, when A to B will do.”

“I know,” she empathised, “and this really is the definition of ‘X’. Still, there does seem to be a more solid trail developing, however eccentric the story surrounding it.”  

“I would be lying if I said my reservations about that story weren’t still in full force,” he said.

“And I would expect nothing less,” she replied. “What remains true, however, is that regardless of Mr Taylor’s thoughts on our ghost, there remains a great deal to be said about Mr Harcourt.”

“Yes,” Jack frowned, “it’s a bizarre crime that relies on the evidence of a different story to find its resolution.”

“But isn’t that the very fashion of ghosts,” Phryne said, “finding some new means of saying something when their voices are lost?”

He glanced at her, always shifted by the beauty of what she sometimes revealed - complex and intuitive.

“And what do we expect to find in the ledger?” he finally pressed.

“I’m sure I have no idea,” she returned to her brightness, “but it does seem a jot more satisfying than ghouls creaking through the floorboards.”

He finally offered up a full smile as he pulled open the Hispano’s driver’s-side door. It was a reminder that her scepticism - while open - was still present, and that where there was difference, there was still continuity of thought. Phryne moved passed him with her own smile, one foot pausing on the step-up as her thoughts stumbled across a mystery halfway towards her seat. Leaning a hand on the door, and one on the upholstery, she turned to face him as he stood dutifully clutching the handle. The extra height brought her delightfully close as she tilted her head in thought.

“It does seem strange for a groundskeeper to be quite so devoted to his Master’s belongings, especially since Lord Cavanaugh seemed to have abandoned him,” she mused.

“As you said before, there does appear to be a trail developing, however eccentrically,” he was not strictly focussing on what she was saying, the smell of her perfume playing delightful tricks on his senses.  

“Unfortunately, it’s all driving us back to Mountbatten,” she agreed, almost apologetically as she felt the undercurrent of his distraction, “and our crime scene seems to be expanding from room to room.”  

Jack met her gaze.

“Honestly,” he replied, “I’m surprised I’ve managed to tear you away for this long - when Dr Winslow formally requested access to the house, I was sure you were behind it.”  

Phryne grinned, “Is that why you agreed?”

His smile was soft, and infuriatingly enigmatic - she knew she’d never have answer out of him here, in broad daylight.

She went after the next best curiosity, “What makes you think I wasn’t?”

“What?”

“Behind it?”

A chuckle as he teased, “The fact that you’re here with me, instead of up to your ears in twine and exorcised salt.”

“Nonsense,” she still leant on the door, refusing to move, “you know I can’t resist you - not even for twine and exorcised salt.”  

His kiss refused to be anything other than candid about what was between them, and Phryne once again felt the assurance of it right down to her bones - she was grateful for the surety of her grip on the door. She could have spent the rest of their afternoon in that one moment.  

“Should I be worried that I’m going to return and discover my crime scene has been completely compromised?” he finally asked, “You were supposed to be keeping an eye on him, after all.”  

“It’s hardly my fault you’re a relentless distraction,” Phryne answered with her most persuasive tone, “and I can guarantee that he’s is under strict instructions not to tamper with evidence, and in the best hands.”  

***

“What the bloody hell is this rubbish, anyway?” Albert Johnson complained bitterly beneath a heavy box of intricate equipment.

“Damned if I know,” whispered Cecil Yates, more conscious that Dr Winslow might hear him, “Miss Fisher just said that the doc was helping with the investigation into that lost kid.”  

“I’m not sure what a ruddy thermometer in the Drawing Room is going to tell us about the window upstairs,” Bert refused, “seems like poppycock to me.”

Cec shrugged, “Can’t hurt though, can it?”

Bert didn’t have an answer for that, “Doesn’t stop it from being a bloody waste of time.”

“It’s a mite better than doing nothing, though, isn’t it?” came a voice from the stairs, Dr Winslow seemingly unfazed by the derision of his expertise, and focussed on the unravelling of a series of wires as he descended to the first landing. They belonged to a device, which looked rather more like something that might belong to a Martian than something that might deliver definitive results on anything of importance.

Bert placed the box down in the entrance hall, and fixed a dissatisfied look on his face - they’d been at it for a good two hours at least, and there seemed to be a never-ending supply of strange and wonderful things to be drawn on for evidence. Of what, neither he nor Cec could be sure. He eyed the doctor with the series of questions that lay beneath his steady derision.

Winslow had yet to look at him.

“I can feel you thinking, Mr Johnson, so you might as well ask.”

Cec remained safely behind the task of taking his collection of scopes to the Dining Rooms as instructed.

“All right,” Bert said, unafraid to make his concerns heard, “what’s the point of that, then?”

Reginald blinked.

“It’s a Spirit Radio,” he said, as though it explained everything. Bert seemed to grow more irate by the second. “It was designed by Nikolai Tesla,” Winslow continued, noting that his listener was unimpressed, “to pick up alternate wavelengths from the Herzian waves we use to produce sound on the wireless.”

Bert shifted, growing uncomfortable at the use of the word ‘Herzian’, despite his respect for Russian scientists generally.

“It records sounds that we can’t hear,” the doctor clarified, “and Psychic Researchers have been investigating its use in detecting objects, and perhaps beings beyond the immediate human experience.”  

“Like what?” Bert pressed.

“Oh, any number of things - aha!” he finally managed to work through a particularly frustrating knot, “but oftentimes, it presents us with potentially ghostly conversations.”

He smiled at him, as though what he had said was not upsetting in the least.

“Conversations about what?” Bert looked suddenly upward, almost furtively, betraying his hardened exterior.

“Oh, it’s hard to know, really - I’m certain sometimes that it’s gibberish. Tesla himself admitted that it could just be frequency, although he also admitted to being completely unsettled by the discovery when he first listened to the results in his laboratory late one night. Alone.”          

“Seems to me to be the right environment for a hair-raising discovery,” came another voice from the door, sceptical as it was bright.

“Right you are, Mr Butler,” Winslow pointed at him with a scientific forefinger, and went back to arranging the device on the top step, “and I do hope those are sandwiches -- I just love cucumber and relish.”

“Mayonnaise, Doctor,” the butler corrected, “but I shall bear that in mind. And are we expecting Voices from the Beyond right away, or is there time for tea?”

“Good sir,” Dr Winslow seemed outraged, “there is always time for tea.”  

*~*~*  

[imaginethisbts]

Out of the Blue 03

Rated: M

Warnings: Explicit vulgar hybrid smut, knotting, dirty talk.

Summary: Jungkook has only ever thought of his breeding clients as just that - clients, and he’s always quite indifferent to them since he only ever knows them for a short period of time. But then you come along, and he starts experiencing feelings that aren’t being manipulated by your heat. Real feelings, that he has never harbored before with anyone else.

Notes: finally part 3 is here!! this one was really tricky. i edited it so much in terms of adding parts, then turning around and taking them back out and just completely removing an entire scene and replacing it with something that flowed better. ugh. i have mixed feelings on this, but it is what it is lmfao i mean all it is is smut so i guess it really doesnt matter. enjoys babes <3

Words: 6.3k

01 | 02 | 03 | 04

It was odd, Namjoon thought, at how comfortable you and Jungkook seemed to be around each other, having only known each other for a little over a day. He couldn't even begin wrap his head around the way 'natural instincts' and 'pheromones' worked between you two, but then again, he was merely just a human. Last night was weird and he couldn't exactly say he liked it, as he slept alone again for the first time in a very long while, having to keep himself warm without you there being his little heater. 

The first night here was hard, but there was something about last night that was almost unbearable. 

He got little sleep because he couldn't stop thinking about you, and how you were dealing with sleeping without him these past two nights since you had never done so before, but then he realized you were probably perfectly fine - curled up beside Jungkook, sleeping peacefully with the other's arms tightly around you. His arms were probably so tight because he was probably afraid someone would try to take you away from him in the middle of the night while you two slept.

Well, that was if you even got any sleep, did your fevers subside long enough for you to get some shut-eye? Or were you two at it all night?

Namjoon shook his head in mild disgust, trying to clear his mind of the unwanted images that started popping up and he looked out of the window, down at the pool where you and Jungkook were playing in the water together. He watched on, a strange sort of jealousy planted in his chest. Could he really not even get one moment alone with you? He just didn't quite know how to cope with that - didn't understand how Jungkook could be that possessive.

But again, he was just a human. How could he possibly understand?

"It doesn't matter if you just want to hug her or check up on her, Jungkook sees it as a threat - it makes him anxious and upset, because to him he think's you're going to snatch her away from him and try to make her yours. You may not understand, but please, do try to respect them."

Seokjin had explained to him rather firmly earlier today after he had said something offhandedly bitter about Jungkook's possessiveness over you.

It was true, he didn't understand one bit, but he decided to respect Jungkook anyways like Seokjin had suggested. After all, he had agreed to this and paid the large sum of money for this to happen. The only thing was, at the time of the agreement he didn't know how strange it was going to be.

It'll be over soon.

Snapping back out of his thoughts and looking out of the large window down at you and Jungkook, he noticed during his bout of reflective thoughts that the playfulness in the water you two had been enjoying had quickly turned into something.... else, to say the least.

You two had gotten out of the water, stark naked, and Jungkook already had you on your hands and knees in the grass area next to the pool, closing in behind you on his knees as you arched your back and-- Namjoon widened his eyes, quickly turning his back to the window before he saw something he didn't quite want to see.

The last thing he wanted right now was to see one of your little 'sessions' as Seokjin always referred to them as. Lord knows he had heard enough, even with how big the mansion was. No matter where he went, he was always conveniently near an area you and Jungkook decided to get busy in.

And this was only the third day?

Namjoon let out a long sigh, running his hands down his face tiredly and when his eyes shifted up, he jumped a bit when saw Seokjin standing at the entrance of the room all of the sudden.

"Oh, Seokjin ssi. Didn't hear you come in," Namjoon chuckled, scratching behind his ear and feeling heat rush to his face for whatever reason.

Truthfully he didn't know what to call the room they were in, a sitting room maybe? It had plenty of couches and chairs, with bookcases lining most of the wall space with one large window and two medium sized ones on either side taking up the span of the back wall. And through the glass there was a perfect view of the lavish backyard, which had a patio with a mini bar, a rock pool and perfectly trimmed trees and freshly mowed grass.

"I was looking for you to tell you lunch was ready if you were still hungry. I know earlier you mentioned how you were, so," the other smiled, stepping closer until he got to the window, the one which Namjoon had just stepped away from.

"I wouldn't-" Namjoon began, trying to save the other from seeing something he probably didn't want to, but Seokjin was already looking through the glass, an amused laugh leaving his lips when he spotted you two, Namjoon assumed.

"They really can't control themselves, can they?" He sounded so amused and there was a slight hint of fondness in his tone.

"Uh, yeah, doesn't seem like it." The amusement and fondness didn't quit reach his voice like it did with Seokjin's. Oh well, he supposed he just didn't see the 'cuteness' in it like the other man did.

"Honestly, I've never seen a heat session so extreme like this before. And it's only the third day - this is a first for Jungkook," for some absolute unknown reason, Namjoon's eyes got caught on the other's lips as he spoke, and he couldn't for the life of himself look away, almost as if he was mesmerized by the plushness of them and how soft they seemed like they would be against-- whoa, wait a minute, where the fuck was he going with this?

He blinked in shock at himself, averting his widened eyes to some other place, and that some other place wasn't exactly any better than before. At all, in fact. It just so happened to be the broad expanse of the other's shoulders. They were tucked in firmly in a white v-neck t-shirt that stretched across his back to accommodate them and Jesus Christ, you could land a Goddamn plane on those.

When he caught himself biting his lip at the sight, he just about slapped his own face in disgust at how out of it he was being and he quickly turned away from Seokjin, trying to regain his fucking sanity that somehow seemed to leave him whenever the other man came around.

This was not him, Namjoon was not like this. He has always prided himself on being a levelheaded man who knew how to take control of situations and be able to make sense of them - of why they're happening and any possible solutions them. But right now... right now Namjoon was so lost with his emotions and whatever the fuck was happening between him and Seokjin that he didn't even know what to think or feel. He was confused and a little irritated with himself because he's just met the guy and Namjoon's already allowing him to manipulate his emotions with a simple smile.

Jesus fuck.

"They'll be done down there soon probably. I’m gonna ask Somi to go take a towel out there for them to rest on afterwards," Seokjin spoke as if he was speaking to himself because it didn't really sound like he was talking to Namjoon directly.

"Somi?" Namjoon repeated the name in slight confusion, not recognizing the name.

"She's a maid here."

Oh right yes, of course. He almost forgot he was in a mansion bustling with servants. 

“I’d do it myself, but if a male were to walk up to them right now, Jungkook would not be a happy camper. Probably won’t be very happy with Somi either, but oh well.”

The other man finally looked away from the window, directing his gaze to Namjoon now with a smile on his face.

His smile could probably heal a wound, Namjoon suddenly thought to himself in exasperation as he rushed to return the smile. Although it probably looked more on the lines of a grimace - what with his train of thought and everything.

"Anyways, if you're hungry there's something real good waiting in the kitchen. Care to join me and find out what it is?" Seokjin winked playfully and walked passed him towards the door, brushing their shoulders together lightly as he went, not even waiting for his answer.

Namjoon gazed at his back as he headed for the door, in a daze, his shoulder tingling from the light contact.

Something real good waiting in the kitchen? Was it going to be Seokjin?

No, you fucking idiot, he already said it was food.

If Seokjin were a food, Namjoon couldn't decide if he'd be a juicy rib-eye steak with lobster tail on the side, or a perfect slice of cherry pie with a dollop of whipped cream on the top.

Hmm...

No, he'd be something more fancy than either of those things, Namjoon concluded. But Namjoon couldn't really think of much fancier foods - he wasn't a fancy dude, didn't have a fancy vocabulary full of delectable dishes.

He continued gazing, only snapping out of it when the other turned around in the door frame, raising an amused eyebrow.

"You coming?"

Oh my God, did he really just zone out and ponder about which type of dish Seokjin would be while said-man was standing right in front of him?

He's fucking lost it.

But his feet begin to move of their own accord, following Seokjin out of the sitting room anyways.

Of course he was coming.

The blades of grass started feeling like needles on your hands and knees, chafing your soft skin as Jungkook incessantly pounded his way into you from behind. You let out a high whine, dropping onto your elbows and spreading your knees further apart, trying to get some sort of relief. Jungkook was forced to lean down over you now in your new position and he did so with a reverberating growl in his chest, hooking his chin over your shoulder and nipping hard at your ear, making you tilt your head away and whimper.

Your wet hair stuck to your face and you could feel water droplets from Jungkook's body drip onto you, and then roll off of you onto the grass in what seemed like an endless cycle. He kept growling harshly in your ear as his hips slapped rapidly into your ass, the sound of wet skin meeting skin over and over again joining the other outside noises of the backyard - like the sounds of birds chirping and the trickling of water from the waterfall into the pool. You arched your back even more, trying to make sure the position was perfect for his knot and the action earned you another nip on the ear. Oddly one of his ways to show his approval.

In the blink of an eye, it had gone from innocent playing in the swimming pool, to a shiver running through your body and Jungkook being on you within seconds - tugging you out of the pool and into the grass where he could mount you properly.

It was indescribable, the feeling that rushed through your body and into your brain whenever your fever returned, consuming every inch of you. It was an extreme desperation and yearning, one that would become physically unbearable if not taken care of within a reasonable amount of time. But it was the most wondrous, perfect feeling ever, how Jungkook would immediately become aware of your desires and give you exactly what your body so desperately needed.

God, you loved being under Jungkook, having Jungkook inside of you, having his mouth on some inch of your skin. You felt like you belonged to him, and he to you.

Just as you could start feeling Jungkook's knot swelling, a strange scent filled your nostrils, but after sniffing at the air for a moment you realized it was female and non-threatening so you decided it wasn't anything for you to fret over. However, you could feel Jungkook tense above you immediately and his chest begin to rumble from a deep, possessive growl. You couldn't see his face, but you knew for a fact there was a snarl on it, his hips gradually slowing down and his knot continuing to inflate.

He straightened up on his knees again, leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable now that he wasn't covering your body with his own, but you assumed he did so in order to look at the oncoming presence and appear more intimidating, no doubt puffing his chest out.

"Mr. Jeon, I was told by Mr. Kim to bring a towel down for you two to rest on, after you.." The voice trailed off when Jungkook let out a particularly intimidating growl and then he was on you again, bending down to nuzzle his way to your neck so he could lick at it. One of his favorite ways to show his claim over you, despite the fact you two were currently knotted together - his claim quite obvious.

He was still growling lowly in his chest, and whoever the person was threw whatever she was holding - the towel, you assumed - down beside you two and then she retreated back to the house - her scent becoming weaker and weaker until she was behind a closed door again.

Since his knot was almost fully formed he couldn't thrust anymore so he just opted to grind against you, making you whimper from the slight stinging pinch it caused and then shortly afterwards you could feel his warm seed splash within you. The sensation drew a moan out of you suddenly, loving that feeling more than absolutely anything. It made you feel blissful and fulfilled.

You lifted your head and turned it to the side, whining in your throat for Jungkook's attention. He leaned his head in quickly, making a tired noise of question as he brushed his nose against yours and you licked at his mouth helplessly, the taste of him sending a jolt of pleasure throughout your body. To your delight he licked back, your tongues lapping at each other earnestly and you whimpered when you felt another spurt of his cum inside, brought on by another surge of excitement no doubt.

Licking Jungkook with his cock nestled firmly inside of you, still leaking from uncontrolled excitement and arousal.

It was perfect.

After awhile, you worked together on spreading out the towel the female had brought to you and then carefully laying down on top of it on your sides to rest. Jungkook held you close to him, back pressed firmly against his chest and his hips were flat against your ass, keeping his knot from tugging and hurting you. He languidly licked and kissed at your ear and you closed your eyes and smiled, enjoying the feeling of his mouth and the wonderful weather outside. It was such a beautiful day, you hummed happily in content.

Once his knot deflated enough to pull out and you exchanged respectful licks, you decided to head back inside for something to eat and drink.

You were snuggled into Jungkook on the big bed that you two have just about ruined over the past couple of days as you watched a cartoon television show called Bob's Burgers. You had never seen it before, but Jungkook said it was funny and probably his favorite show, so you decided to watch it while snuggling and eating your chicken nuggets.

A laugh came tumbling passed your lips at a random thing the character Gene had said and the sound made Jungkook shift, tugging you in a bit closer and resting his chin on your head.

It was silent as you both watched the TV and it was a slight struggle to eat your chicken while being in such a tight grip of his, but you were not complaining at all. It was the most comforting feeling you had ever experienced. Struggle be damned.

"How long have you-- been working, you know? Working at a place, at an actual job and everything." Jungkook suddenly inquired, taking you a bit by surprise - so enthralled in the show that you weren't expecting such a question. And by the way he said it made him sound like he had been thinking about it for a little bit. Trying to think of a way to say it, to word it perhaps.

Craning your neck, you looked up at him. "Ever since I was a little pup. Why?" Setting your chicken nuggets aside, you scooted up some on the bed, prepared to talk about this if that's what he wanted. It would be tricky since the subject was closely related to Namjoon since it was his cafe you worked at, but you would try to avoid explicitly bringing him up if possible.

"Nothing, I'm just--curious, is all." He responded, raising his hand to brush a strand of hair out of your face, making your ears flutter from the gentle action.

You looked up at his own ears and noticed that they were both slightly flattened instead of one perked up and the other being flat like they always were when he was 'curious'.

With your own curiosity piqued now, you moved out of his arms and up onto your knees on the bed. He rolled fully onto his back, arms held in the air in slight confusion as to what you were doing, but that was before you swung a leg over his waist and settled your weight onto him, putting his confusion to rest.

"Tell me," you grinned down at him, "what are you thinking about? What's going on up there?" You knocked lightly on his head with your knuckles, playing with him.

Jungkook snagged your hand and he held it as he scooted up further on the bed to where he was half-sitting up against the pillows with you in his lap.

"Don't hit me." Maybe the words could have been threatening or even a command, if it weren't for the big grin on his face and the amusing tone of voice he used.

Jerking your hand out of his grip, you slapped it onto his arm to be funny and stubborn, but you were almost jarred at how hard it was. There was no give, at all. You looked at his bicep, eyes widening a bit as you marveled at the sculpted piece of flesh and muscle beneath. Jesus Christ.

"Jungkook..." You breathed out, barely audible, but you bet your ass Jungkook heard it plain as day. As he was suddenly hyper-aware of your every movement, word, breath. You ran your fingertip down the ridge of a highly defined spot, swallowing the gathering saliva in your throat at the amazing feeling. "You're so strong..."

Licking his lips, he flexed, making it ten times more defined and you just about swallowed your fucking tongue at the feeling of the rock-hard bicep beneath your fingertips.

It was so hot, God it was so fucking hot that it had you whining helplessly, leaning down and nosing at it before poking your tongue out and licking a defined ridge. Jungkook made the most delicious sound, a deep growl of disbelief and arousal delightfully shaking you to the core.

His hands suddenly found purchase on your hips, grip tightening and fingers pressing into your delicate flesh when you decided to squirm slightly in his lap. Your tail wagged submissively behind you from the strong hold on your body, the reminder of Jungkook's strength and dominance sending a jolt of excitement straight in between your thighs.

You stroked your cheek against his bicep, eyes shifting upwards to look at him only to find that he was already gazing at you with a familiar darkness in his orbs that was not there moments ago. His jaw was clenched and nostrils flared slightly from his breathing becoming more worked up and heavy with every passing moment. So from that and his dark eyes, it gave him an overall wickedly lustful expression.

A familiar fire began to spread throughout your stomach, arousing your lower region as you felt yourself beginning to produce slick in response to the current situation. However, it was a bit different from when your fever caused it. Instead of feeling frantic and wanting to race to the finish line, you felt like taking it slow, building things up and reveling in the emotions without rushing. You lifted your head to place a gentle kiss to his tense jaw and then moving up, you touched your lips lightly against his. So light that it was almost teasing.

Jungkook let out a small deep growl in the back of his throat, tilting his head forwards, putting more pressure into the kiss. But you pulled back a little when he did so, not allowing him to intensify the kiss, keeping it featherlight.

His grip on your hips tightened even more, almost a warning to not tease him as he tried once again to put more pressure into the kiss. But you just grinned lightly as you pulled back once more, wanting to see how worked up you could get him over this.

Your stomach tightened and burned when he growled in warning, the sound so deep and intimidating that it had you flattening your ears and suppressing a whimper from falling out. You were soaked between your thighs by now and you could feel the heat radiating from Jungkook's hardened cock, which was so close to your pussy but just barely missing it.

He tried one more time at kissing you more forcefully, but you were too quick and tilted your head back just in time, this time with a little breathless giggle. However, Jungkook was having none it - finding nothing amusing about your game at all.

Expecting him to just growl at you again, you were taken by surprise when he suddenly had you pinned to the bed in what seemed like the blink of an eye. He was on top of you, strong grip trapping your hands against the mattress above your head and you whimpered, baring your throat in submission and Jungkook leaned down, nipping at your neck hard in punishment from teasing him.

You let out a pained whine, keeping your neck bared, a gush of wetness leaking out of your throbbing entrance as a reaction to his delicious dominance. Glancing up, you saw how tensed and defined his shoulders and collarbones were from the strength he was using to hold your arms to the bed. It was so unbelievably arousing that you couldn't help but to shift your hips, needing some sort of friction. Some relief.

Jungkook breathed in deeply through his nostrils, smelling the wonderful, heady scent of your slick and he groaned, dizzy and overwhelmed with the intoxicating aroma.

God, he had to fucking taste. He had to get some of that sweetness on his tongue, had to drink you up and lick you dry just for you to soak yourself all over again.

He licked frantically at the little red bite mark he created on your neck from his punishment, whimpering an apology that was acknowledged with a whimper of your own.

Unable to wait any longer, he gave one final lick to your mark before he let go of your arms and began moving down your body. Backing up until his face was right where he wanted it to be. Needed it to be. He parted your legs and the cool air of the bedroom hit your wet center, making you tremble and try to close them again. But Jungkook growled and forced them open, holding them apart so he had room to work for his head.

Down here, he was so intoxicated by the smell of your aroused pussy, so wet and swollen, that he had to shake his head to try and regain some semblance of straight-thinking and control. Thinking back to your first session together, and how he had ate you up in order to prep you for his cock, his mouth literally starting watering when he remembered how good you tasted.

You shifted your hips and another trickle of slick released from your hole as you did so, making his cock pulsate and mouth salivate so intensely that he was afraid drool would start leaking out of the sides of his lips if he wasn't careful.

He watched a droplet of slick slide down one of your swollen lips and you seemed to have clenched in anticipation, being so wet that it literally made a squelching sound when you did so and suddenly whatever control Jungkook had over himself was no more. Completely and utterly gone.

With no refrain, he dived straight in, shoving his tongue in between your folds and gathering some of your juices, slurping them into his mouth and sucking on your swollen, dripping lips. He had you squirming and whining, your thighs trembling so badly that he almost felt guilty for a second, but he just gripped them harder to try and still them, no doubt leaving bruises in his wake.

"J-Jungkook," you whined in that pitiful voice of yours, bucking your hips weakly. He suctioned his lips around your entrance and sucked, drinking in your slick, tasting the sweetness as it passed over his tongue and down his throat deliciously. Precum beaded at the tip of his throbbing cock, neglected and yearning for your tight heat to be clamped around it.

His nose was dipped between your folds and tickling your clit in his head's current position and he was going at you so wildly and messily that his entire mouth, cheeks, nose, chin, were just glistening and wet.

Jungkook ate you out so well that by the time he was finished, the only wetness that seemed to be left was his saliva, as he had sucked and licked and drank up every ounce of slick you had produced. He had even spread your ass cheeks apart in order to lick up the juices that had slid in between them, licking over your puckered hole as you squirmed more frantically, the sensation nothing if not foreign and strange.

When he finally deemed himself done, he crawled back up your body and shoved his tongue into your mouth, making you taste yourself. His cock was pulsating so intensely now that it was becoming unbearable, he had to get it inside of you or else it was going to fucking explode.

So he grabbed your waist to flip you over on your hands and knees, but you gripped his arms, stopping him. "Wait!" You suddenly exclaimed. "Wait, can we--can we fuck like this?" Your voice was shaky but you stared up at him with pleading, urgent eyes. "Please?"

Taken by surprise, Jungkook sat back and looked at you quizzically. Face to face? He cant say he's ever done that before, or that he's ever wanted to. Because not only is it odd, but he doesn't think he can get a good enough hold on you in this position. Can't grip your hips and jostle you around like he needs to.

"I want to see your face," you whispered, chest still rising and falling heavily from how he had just licked you up and ate you out. Timidly, you reached up with your hand, brushing your fingertips against his cheek and then placing your palm onto it.

His ears twitched from the sudden soft touch and he looked down at you, at your beautiful face and your breasts, nipples hardened and in perfect condition for your future puppies. His chest tightened with adoration at the sight of you and he realized maybe fucking like this wouldn't be so bad, if he had this view.

Instead of giving you a verbal answer, Jungkook decided to just grip underneath your thighs and shove your legs apart and upwards to where they were crowding towards your stomach, rougher than necessary. But the roughness seemed to only arouse you more, as he smelt a fresh stream of slick leak out of you afterwards.

Bending down, he licked your lips before pressing his into them - kissing hard, with enough pressure to have your head pressing back into the mattress slightly. This was for teasing him earlier. His heavy cock was resting against the juncture of your thigh and pelvic bone, throbbing and drooling, impatiently waiting for that hot, tight heavenly wetness.

He took one hand off of your thigh in order to grab his thick length, dragging it down through your wet folds slowly and to your raw entrance. You winced when he poked the tip of his cock inside, sensitive from the way he ate you so roughly and the sudden stretch had been anticipated, but unexpected at the same time.

God, had he gotten bigger since the last time you fucked? Or maybe you had gotten tighter somehow, but anyways the stretch this time around caused for a lot more effort than the times before and you whimpered as he pushed more of himself inside.

Jungkook looked at your face, watching it scrunch up cutely as you tried to take him in your pussy. Something you had done many times before with no issues at all, so he shoved the rest of himself inside of you with a jerk of his hips, balls pressing into your ass.

Throwing your head back you let out a whine, one that made his ears twitch from the pitch of it and he growled lightly at you, nosing at your cheek for a moment and then licking it to try and placate you.

Your pussy pulsed around him, hot, tight walls clenching and releasing as you tried to accomodate his girth and holy fuck, it felt so fucking good. Better than he could have ever even hoped for.

Knowing very well you could take his cock, he started thrusting his hips without any concern, growling in warning when you tried whimpering pitifully at the movements. Your hands made their way to his lower stomach, applying pressure as if to try and get him to pull out or something, but Jungkook was having none of that and just grabbed your wrists and trapped them above your head like he had done to you earlier.

There was something different about this time, the sensation of having him inside of you was so overwhelming and you could feel him perfectly within, could feel the tip of his dick close to your cervix and feel how it throbbed in pleasure.

The pace of his thrusts started to increase, catching up to how strung out and worked up he has been for the past while, and you squirmed beneath him, whining and trying to pull your arms out of his grasp.

Jungkook's grip tightened and he kissed you roughly again, swallowing your whimpers when he started fucking harder. "Stop that, I know you can take my cock." He growled deeply against your lips, fucking you into the mattress deliciously. "Can't you?"

You nodded your head eagerly in response and pressed your lips together again, enjoying being in this position with him right now despite how overwhelming it was - your inner walls had never been so sensitive.

But suddenly it occurred to you - you were not in a heat fever. This was not a breeding act. You were currently fucking Jungkook out of your own utter desire, in a recreational type way, not with the endgame hoping to be tied up and plumb full with his cum. Maybe that was why the sensations were a bit different, your body wasn't as naturally prepared for a fuck. When your fever came around, your entrance would practically gape in anticipation, so that could be why the stretch was so intense this time.

Pressing your wrists into the mattress with force, Jungkook used the leverage to really start fucking you hard and fast now. His pelvis and balls were covered in your wetness, making the sound of skin on skin contact more loud and prominent. His lower stomach began to burn and tighten, signaling his approaching climax, but it was odd because his knot hadn't started forming yet and it was always almost half-way inflated by now.

Out of nowhere, your body seized up as a lightening bolt of the purest form of pleasure jolted throughout your body. The same feeling you experienced whenever you would feel Jungkook's cum spurt inside of you.

The blissful release had you spasming around his cock, pussy clenching and unclenching rapidly. "Oh, fuck, J-Jungkook," you breathed heavily against his mouth, panting from the intense sensation.

Unable to withstand the squeezing, Jungkook surprisingly pressed his hips into yours and blew his load inside of you, with no knot present at all. Giving himself some time to bask in the aftermath of his pleasure, he would deal with the strange occurrence in a bit. Laying down and resting some of his weight on you, but not all of it of course, he continued giving you some small thrusts, just riding out his high until he became too sensitive to keep doing so.

The two of you were breathing so heavily and your skin was stuck together like glue from all of the sweat, he could feel your hard nipples pressing into his chest and strands of hair were stuck to your sweaty face, making you look completely fucked and spent. Driven by an impulse urge, Jungkook leaned in and kissed your lips and you hummed tiredly as you kissed him back without hesitation. 

After awhile, he shifted his hips experimentally, feeling his cock slip half-way out of you, something that would never have happened if his knot was plugged within. His movement would have caused you great discomfort, and probably would have earned himself a pained whine. But you did nothing of the sorts.

"I-I didn't knot you," he mumbled in confusion, looking at you and seeing on your face that you looked a little confused yourself.

"No knot?" You questioned, tilting your head to the side, one of your ears flopping with the movement. "Do you think it might be because... I don't have a fever right now? And I didn’t throughout this whole time?"

Jungkook was at a lost honestly, but the reason sounded plausible enough maybe. He had never cum before without being driven by a heat fever - actually, he had never had any sort of sexual interaction without being driven by a heat fever. So, this could very well be a normal occurrence that’s he just never experienced before.

Wow, he thought, how strange. Never before had he wanted to fuck one of his clients during one of their down-times with their heat. However, you seemed to be the first of many things for him, and he didn’t quite know what to think about that.

But as he looked down at you, his precious bitch, at your beautiful form that he just got done using and fucking and taking for himself, he realized he liked it. He liked it a lot and for some reason he couldn’t really explain, it felt like that's the way things were supposed to be.

The room was on the tip top floor of the mansion and it was large, containing many different types of machines, weights and other related equipment.

After you recovered from your previous fuck, Jungkook had said he wanted to show you something. A part of the mansion he hadn’t shown you yet. 

"A gym," you commented out loud, looking around the space until your eyes landed on Jungkook.

Upon your focus, his ears flattened as his tail began to wag. "Yeah. I spend the majority of my time in here," he said, ducking his head a bit in an endearingly bashful way.

He can be so cute, you wanted to squeal.

You stepped up to him, looking up at his face and grinning as you squeezed his muscular arm with your small hand. "I don't doubt that for a single little second."

He smirked, ears perking up, giving a little flex that had your mouth almost watering before he walked off to a machine you didn't know the name of. "What do you know about gyms?" He asked, throwing his leg over the bench and sitting down, his comfort with everything making it obvious he did in fact spend a lot of time in here.

Walking over to him, you shrugged and sat down on another machine's bench next to the one he was on. "Not much really, just that Na--" you caught yourself before you spoke one more syllable of his name and you gulped, trying to play it off by giving a rather unconvincing cough. Well, actually, you guessed it had to be a little bit convincing because Jungkook didn't seem to get riled up, he just stared at you waiting for you to continue speaking.

"I pass one everyday going and coming from work. Whenever I look through the window, the only thing I see is just a bunch of people in there doing stuff really fast and sweating like, buckets of sweat."

Jungkook grinned so widely he thought his face was going to split in half and then he genuinely laughed in amusement, wanting to pinch your cheek or something along those lines. "You know that's called exercising, right?"

"So I've heard," you said, a thoughtful look on your face as you cocked your head to the side, one of your ears lopsided.

Despite how stupid it was, he felt somewhat proud that he was more knowledgeable about something than you were for once. Mainly because so far you seemed to be rather educated about a lot of things in the real world while he himself knew very little about anything outside of these mansion walls.

Ever since he was a pup and Seokjin bought him from his original owner - who was a real shithead, he might add - Jungkook has always been sheltered. And while growing up he couldn't help but to feel like some outsider who didn't belong anywhere in the world. Of course most hybrids probably shared those feelings, but as much as he loved Seokjin, the man never tried to help him fit into society, instead he tried to make Jungkook feel as if he was too good for it.

Which wasn't true.

Sure, he may be some acclaimed hybrid that people knew far and wide, with more money than he literally knew what to do with. But deep in his heart, all he really wanted to do was find his mate and settle down, keep the pups he made with her and just live like normal in the real world. Go to a regular gym, maybe have a friend or two, see some inch of the world that wasn't this God forsaken mansion.

But then you came along, and you had a real job and you knew things about the world - generally just not as sheltered and ignorant as he was. You had asked about his interests, trying to get to know who he was other than his lionized dick and Jungkook didn't even know what to think about that because it has never happened to him before. The only person who knew what his favorite TV show was, was Seokjin. And it wasn’t even because the man cared to know or had inquired about it, it was just that Jungkook watched it so often that it was impossible not to notice.

Truthfully, he felt a little inadequate to be around you, but the hope for something more in this life was finally ignited once again and he knew that was all because of you.

Jungkook was still grinning from your words and he shook his head, chuckling. “Aish, you’re really cute, you know that?” 

[disndatradio]

Artist To Watch: Ellis

Linnea Siggelkow. L.S. Ellis. It’s as simple as that. And the Hamilton, Ontario musician’s songwriting is just as intuitive, a raw yet graceful breed of indie rock with a dream-pop splendor and a brooding slowcore soul.

“The Drain,” the lead single from Ellis’ The Fuzz EP, was an immediate stunner. She sings of getting in over her head and giving herself over to the depths — “But when it came the time to jump in/ I held my breath and counted to 10″ — yet the music spirals outward and upward, a perpetual overhead drone shot whisking you across the horizon. The guitars chime and smolder with the physicality of DIY basement rock, yet their combined effect is grandly atmospheric, beaming with a beauty that feels like it should be beyond the capacity of such a relatively lo-fi recording. It is the sound of an anxious soul struggling to let go, but also of undeniable talent overflowing into the world by whatever means necessary.

Remarkably, the rest of The Fuzz maintains that standard of excellence. “Frostbite” trembles with regret, then surges with resilience. The droning, churning slow burn “All This Time” builds to a cleansing blaze. “The Fuzz” effectively conjures that unmoored sensation of getting lost in a fog after a life-changing interaction. It’s a glorious piece of work from top to bottom, and we’re excited to premiere it today along with an interview. Behold it all below.

STEREOGUM: I understand you’re in Hamilton now, and you used to be in Toronto?

ELLIS: Yeah, I moved to Hamilton last May, so I’ve been there for a year and a bit now.

STEREOGUM: I feel like you usually hear about musicians moving to the big metropolis rather than away from it. What was the story there?

ELLIS: I lived in Toronto for like five years. I had played in a couple of other bands for a bit. But a lot of it was the cost of living, honestly. I think I was just ready for a change of scenery, a change of pace. It was pretty impulsive, actually, that I moved to Hamilton. I didn’t really have anything to be here for. But I kind of just did it, and the stars aligned and I found a great apartment and a cool job, and I had the time and the space to work on music. It was, I think, a really important move for me. I’ve been happier and more chill and just more creative since I’ve moved. Which is funny, ’cause you’re totally right, people move to Toronto to make art or whatever, but I find that there’s not a lot of room to do it, it’s just busy and everyone’s kind of hustling to pay rent and whatever.

STEREOGUM: For those of us who are not that familiar with Hamilton, how does it compare to Toronto? Can you describe what the city’s like?

ELLIS: It’s cool. It’s smaller, obviously. But it’s busy, like the scene is busy. There’s shows all the time. There’s cool DIY spaces that I feel like Toronto is really lacking right now. There’s a lot going on in the arts community, and I find it super supportive. There’s a really cool sense of community here that was easy to become a part of.

STEREOGUM: You mentioned that you were able to get a cool job there. What’s the job?

ELLIS: I work in a vintage shop and I work at a bar. I’ve been working a lot, actually, to self-fund this EP. I’m putting it out independently, so there were a lot of costs that went into it. And it’s sort of funny to work so that you can make art, but that’s basically what I’ve been doing.

STEREOGUM: I would think that nowadays you just have to upload something online and then it’s released, but obviously there’s more to releasing a record than that.

ELLIS: For sure, yeah. Recording costs, mixing and mastering, rehearsal spaces. And the album art. Things like that are just these little costs, and sometimes big costs, but it all adds up.

STEREOGUM: Speaking of rehearsal spaces, what is your live show like? Do you have a band backing you up?

ELLIS: My very first show ever I played solo, and I just felt like it didn’t have the same intensity that I wanted it to have. I wanted there to be a lot of dynamics. I wanted there to be a lot of crescendos to mimic the feeling that I have throughout the song, So yeah, we rehearse as a four-piece and play shows live that way.

STEREOGUM: Your song “The Fuzz” seems to be about some sort of catastrophic or life-changing conversation. Can you talk a bit about that song and why you chose it to be the title track?

ELLIS: “The Fuzz” to me is this metaphorical place. That’s how I was picturing it when I wrote it. It’s like that noise, like the fuzz on a TV screen when it’s not on a channel — it’s sort of this void. And I think it’s like this place where you feel lost, or you just haven’t quite gotten your feet on the ground or something like that. I think I’ve felt like that for a lot of my 20s. A lot of the songs on this EP were written from this place of feeling in between or just feeling unsure. It’s this picture that I just kept having in my head, and it’s the picture that I had when I wrote that song. But I felt like it sort of encompassed all of the songs and tied them together, like trying to get out of “the fuzz,” or trying to find some certainty.

STEREOGUM: That theme definitely comes up on “The Drain” with the images of being sucked down a drain and not being able to touch your feet to the ground. Have you really had those dreams you sing about in the song?

ELLIS: Sort of. I think a lot of it’s a bit metaphorical. It’s more of a vision, like a waking dream or something. I’m actually not a good swimmer, so I think it’s actually a super relevant metaphor ’cause I am actually afraid of the deep ends of pools. It is a thing that takes some sort of bravery for me, to jump in a lake or whatever. So I think that it is a real fear of mine, and of course, it’s used in that song as a metaphor for something else.

STEREOGUM: Speaking of metaphors in your songs, you use a different one in “What A Mess,” about taking the scissors to your own hair and messing up your haircut. That’s a really effective image for just feeling totally scattershot and out of sorts. Do you actually cut your own hair?

ELLIS: [laughs] Yes, usually when I’m feeling a bit unstable, I think. But it’s something I’ve been trying to do less. It’s a feeling of not being in control. And I’ve been trying to regain that control by not letting myself go there. It feels like self-destructive tendencies or whatever, even as simple as something like that, like cutting your hair. And yeah, it also is a metaphor for other things that I do when I’m just not feeling in control, or it’s sort of this chaos — this feeling of having to destroy something.

STEREOGUM: You’ve got this EP coming out soon. What’s next?

ELLIS: We’re playing our first show in the States on November 15 in Brooklyn at Alphaville, which I’m really excited about. I’ve actually never played a show outside of Ontario, so that’ll be cool. We have our EP release in Toronto at the end of November, on November 29, and then no super solid plans. I’m hoping to start recording the next thing this winter. I’ve been just working on writing. But I would love to play more shows, obviously, in more places. I’m planning to go down to SXSW in March, which I’m really excited about also.

STEREOGUM: Yeah, that’ll be the whole marathon.

ELLIS: Exactly, it’ll be a lot. But it will be cool, I think. I’ve been to SXSW a couple times just as a goer, but I didn’t really ever imagine I would get to play.

STEREOGUM: Is there anything I didn’t ask you about that seems important to discuss?

ELLIS: I think the only other thing that I’ve been thinking about with this particular collection of songs is just how personal they are and what that means to me. I’ve just been thinking about it, and this whole thing about being a woman and a songwriter, and vulnerability and stuff like that. I think in the past, even I had equated it to weakness or not being taken seriously for singing about feelings or whatever. And I just feel really excited that it seems like the tides are turning on that right now — people being able to talk more openly about their feelings or their mental health or whatever it is, and it not being seen as weak or smaller, or girls with guitars being called cute or something, and for it to be this powerful, badass thing to be doing. So I just want to acknowledge that I know I sing a lot about my feelings, but that I feel quite powerful doing it.

The Fuzz is out 11/9. Pre-order it here.

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[foodorflight-blog]

OCD, orthorexia and voices in my head

"Eat to live, don't live to eat." I wish this was easier said than done. I've come to realize recently how much of my life I've wasted in the past year. I believe it is safe to say that the majority of my thoughts throughout the day are either reflecting on the "imperfections" of my last meal, or suffering from anxiety from the next. I am mentally exhausted. I'm trapped. My mind cannot stop obsessing, but my soul is screaming. I want to be free. I'm torn in two. I don't care, but I care so damn much about what I eat. I am vegan. I have been vegan for almost a year now. I love it. The orthorexia and veganism do not correlate, however. I have no trouble avoiding meat and dairy. I was vegetarian for many years before when I was 10 years old. I could care less about my body, but I was a child who grew up in a family that didn't make a big deal about what was put in our bodies. I choose to be vegan for moral purposes not dietary. But, I am sure, many people going vegan also found the popular vegan YouTubers promoting weight loss with vegan HCLF diets and all of that crap. I had been self-conscious about my weight before going vegan and did calorie restriction which made me go crazy, so of course, I'd quit. I have never been fat. I've always been average. Typical BMI of 20-21 or so. But, I have thick parts of my body that I am self-conscious about. Finding out that I could be vegan AND lose weight was pretty cool initially. Kill two birds with one stone (ironic statement because one of those birds happened to be the act of not killing animals by consuming meat and dairy). Anyways, I started following HCLF to little luck. Big plates of fruit, little satiation even after a big meal. Couldn't take it. Binge on vegan junk food. And yet, for some reason, I'd go back to HCLF. It wouldn't work, so I completely gave up oil and salt and basically only ate fruits, veggies and rice. It was good stuff, but I felt socially isolated. I gave up the "pain" of being """"""overweight""""""" for just being an outcast for such an unnecessary reason. I pretty much forgot what it meant to be vegan. Veganism is for the animals not for the body you obtain. Well, some people obtain. I lost weight from veganism, but it wasn't incredibly significant because I was a normal weight to begin with. Extra fat, I suppose. I'm pretty much the same as where I started though and it's been a year. A year of trying extreme diets. Here I am now. This unorganized vent. I am suffering in silence constantly. My thoughts are becoming unorganized, but I don't expect people to read this anyways. I don't know why I'm writing this. I think I'm afraid. I don't want to wake up tomorrow and have to think about food. I'm tired of it plaguing my mind constantly. Why can't a just be a normal vegan? Doesn't have meat or dairy - eat it, relax. Why do I obsess over the small things? I am going on vacation for spring break, and rather than get excited about going to the mountains, my home, the west. The west is where I find tranquility. Rather than be excited about this, I'm having awful anxiety because I haven't a clue what I'll be eating. Who gives a shit. WHO GIVES A SHIT. I'm genuinely so angry at myself. I am on the verge of tears. I almost always am. I have had OCD for as long as I remember. In different forms too. When I was little, I had a compulsion to touch the thermostat every few minutes to an hour, and if I didn't I would just go crazy. I remember it vaguely, but it was so strange. Next, I had harmful compulsions. I wasn't suicidal or anything. I wasn't depressed. I would just have a voice in my head telling me to do something fucking insane. As I write this, I am regaining memories. Some I didn't want to remember, but I want to add them. I must have been 8 years old at this time. I remember it was in the summer because I had just gotten back from swimming. I came home and had this overwhelming compulsion to choke myself. I feel so uncomfortable and gross writing this. My god. This is true though. I kept putting my hand down my throat. Eventually, after going into the bathroom several times a minute, my mom came in to see what was going on. She was pretty shocked and confused. She was just as confused as I was, in fact. Simply stating, "Don't choke yourself." And that was that, I guess. The next compulsion, LITERALLY a day later. Busy summer, yeah? My next compulsion was to bite the inside of my mouth as hard as I could. I'm getting uneasy writing this because I feel so alone. Did it once, hurt like hell, left scars and blisters. I can still feel the scar in my mouth. I lived in constant fear. This sounds so silly, I know, but no one will ever understand. I had this voice in my head telling me to bite myself, and I would cry and cry. I would sit in bed terrified of the voice. Now, the voice controls food. I don't know what to do anymore. Is this even OCD? I am diagnosed, however, is his different? I know orthorexia falls into the OCD category, but the voice is what concerns me. I think I'm going insane. It seems petty, but I feel like two different people in one body and they don't like each other. They don't like myself. I can't control myself, and it's terrifying. I feel little joy with things I do anymore. My dad says it's depression, and I'm sure that's a bit of it. However, I wouldn't doubt it being the fact that every fucking second I'm anxious about food. Looking attractive is so god damn important, isn't it? For what? FOR FUCKING WHAT?? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I have no self-worth in my two-selves eyes. I fear that I'll end up killing myself when things get worse honestly. I'll keep this blog updated because this feels good. Please tell me someone else is suffering from some OCD like this.