#im not kidding reading it took several hours because i had to keep pausing and wail about grief and reincarnation cycles and closure and AAA

[astronomical-bagel]

ok finished the fic and here are my final thoughts:

it was pretty good!

”I’m Perfectly Alright, No Need To Worry,” says Guy Who Hasn’t Been Okay For About 1000 Years

honestly im not super huge on physical touch so i found it a little hard to relate to? it’s more of a “lack of shared experience” rather than a “strength of writing” type thing

all in all, i’d say around 8/10!

ive also have had a lot of experience w touch aversion in the past so honestly that part didn't apply to me a whole bunch either but what REALLY got me was the the fuckin... like wukong not being able to interact with the others bc they reminded him too much of this buddies in the original jttw.... like man... and then when sandy called him BROTRTHER............ AUWGH im never going to be the same im never goigng to be the same

[highqueenofelfhame]

no tag list bc im posting this from my phone and am too lazy so pls reblog so this gets traction! thank you for reading and follow @highqueenofelfhamewrites for better and more frequent updates and turn on post notifications! i might do away with tag lists soon idk. the whitethorn kids are headcanons from @musicmaam and i so i hope you love the babies we love them very much and becca is a mastermind

masterlist

Outside, it was a still and quiet morning. Despite the sun having risen hours ago, the sky remained a murky gray. Dew clung to the grass and a light fog remained settled over the landscape. It looked cold and like the kind of day that would usually have Aelin curled up in the study, a roaring fire warming the room while she sat in one of the oversized leather chairs and reread a favorite book. Rowan knew that once outside, the cool air would be a sharp bite at his skin. It’s how Terrasen always was in early November.

Instead of reading, though, Aelin was staring at her side of the closet. Her fingers nervously tapped above her elbow while she surveyed dresses and pantsuits, jackets and turtlenecks. More than once she had murmured that she never knew what to wear, and more than once he had told her that it really didn’t matter and she would look beautiful all the same.

A level below, Rowan heard the front door open and close, followed by their oldest son, Arden shouting up the stairs that they were home. They referred to him and his boyfriend, Jamie, and Aelin and Rowan’s oldest, Evalin. The three had driven from the University of Orynth on the other side of the city to the family’s house on the outskirts of town.

Genevieve, Declan, and Endymion, the younger half of the Whitethorn kids, were all getting ready. Genny had been up with the sun to make breakfast for everyone, her hands sticky with cream cheese frosting and cinnamon by the time she had finished. Declan and Endy were down the hall, fighting for counter space in their shared bathroom while Genevieve finished up at the vanity Rowan had built her last year in her bedroom.

More noise followed the voices downstairs turned to a quiet murmur as Rowan approached his wife and rested his hand on her lower back. Aelin leaned back on her heels and into his touch, turning her head slightly. Rowan pressed a kiss to her temple and she shivered, reaching out for the dress that he knew she’d end up picking. It was his favorite.

“Perfect choice, fireheart,” he murmured, rubbing his hand across her middle back as she sighed and pulled it off the hanger that she dropped to the floor. Rowan chuckled to himself, nudging it toward her pile of shoes as he followed her back out into their bedroom.

Rowan was already showered and dressed. He wore a simple black suit with Aelin’s favorite dark green tie— one that she claimed brought out his eyes, though Rowan hadn’t noticed a single difference as he tied it around his neck.

“You are worrying about nothing,” he murmured into her hair, tucking a loose strand behind her ear. Aelin shuddered a sigh, licking her lips as she turned to look at Rowan over her shoulder. Their eyes met for a single heartbeat before moving to the door.

“I hope Arden and Evie remembered to pick everything up this morning.”

“I’ll go check,” he promised, squeezing her shoulder before walking away. Rowan paused in the doorway, turning to look at his anxious wife. She stood in front of the window, dress draped over one arm while she twisted her wedding band around her finger. It made his heart squeeze in the most painful way, but he left her and jogged down the stairs to where the rest of his family mingled in the kitchen.

Entirely typical of his children, none of them looked up when he entered. Gen was dressed in leggings and an oversized sweater, manning the stove to make everyone else eggs. Endy and Declan were arguing over who got the cinnamon roll in the center of the pan: it was the most gooey and beheld more icing than the others. Declan won out in the end, but only because Genevieve pointed a spatula at Endymion to remind him of a petty crime he’d committed against her the day before.

“You don’t deserve that cinnamon roll. You know what you did.” Endy snorted, but relented, allowing Declan to eagerly swoop in for the golden treat. A large dollop of icing slipped off the side, barely making it onto his plate as he did. Endymion sighed wistfully, likely dreaming of how good that would have been in his stomach instead of his brothers. Rowan laughed to himself, ruffling Endy’s hair as he walked by. His youngest shrugged him off with a shiver, lips pulling down into a frown while he looked over at his father, then to his older sister as she walked into the room.

“Has mom been down yet?”

“She’s still upstairs,” Rowan said, while the other kids mumbled that she’d yet to come down. Arden and Jamie slid into the empty barstools at the counter, accepting plates of bacon and eggs from Genevieve. “Can someone go check on her?”

“I’ll go,” Evie decided, heading up toward Rowan and Aelin’s bedroom, stairs creaking with every step.

Genevieve was watching Evalin up until she disappeared at the top of the landing, her lips twisting to the side as she shifted to turn the stove off. The kitchen settled into a comfortable silence, the scraping of forks the only disruption. Genny poked at the cinnamon roll she’d chosen for herself before pushing it away, toward Endy.

“I can’t eat,” she said quietly, tapping her phone screen, the time blinking up at her before it went dark again. It seemed that Endy could eat, however, because he pulled her plate over and dove into her cinnamon roll immediately after finishing his. It was almost enough to make her smile but she seemed to be fighting it off. Rowan moved to wrap his arm around his daughter, but she shrugged out of his embrace and disappeared up the stairs. If he had to guess, she was joining Aelin and Evalin.

“I’m worried about her,” Rowan and Arden said at the same time, the former cracking a half smile.

“Me too,” Endymion agreed, fingernail tapping against the counter while he looked over his shoulder. Rowan opened his mouth to speak, but the soft closing of a door followed by the squeak of the top stair silenced him. A moment later, his three girls were filing into the kitchen. Aelin hugged each of her babies, pressing kisses to their cheeks that they didn’t shy away from.

“We ready?” Arden asked, picking up the bag he’d brought in with him. Aelin nodded and rubbed her hand over Genny’s upper back.

Genevieve had always been the most anxious of their kids in the worst way. Over the last year, her panic attacks had only gotten worse and nobody really knew how to help her. A few months ago, she had finally caved and agreed to start taking medicine for it when she needed to. Judging by the way she stood, worrying her lip and twining the ends of her silver hair into tiny braids, Rowan wondered if she was already debating taking one of those pills to keep the monsters of the day at bay.

The ride was quiet. The only conversation consisted of Aelin and Rowan asking Evalin, Jamie, and Arden about their college courses. The youngest three Whitethorns stayed quiet and listened while looking out the windows and tapping on their phones. No music filled the empty silences— the last five minutes was nothing but garbled road noise and turn signals, the occasional sniffle of a nose, or a small sigh.

When the car was put in park, nobody moved immediately. Aelin stared through the windshield, fingers drumming on the gear shift. Rowan lay his on top of hers, but she didn’t look over at him. Instead, she tucked her bottom lip between her teeth and, after several heartbeats, nodded. Only then did the kids file out of the back seats, Genevieve going to take her mother’s left hand while Arden took her right. Rowan walked beside Endymion and attempted to steady his son when he stumbled over a rock that was hidden in the grass.

They walked through the cemetery, moving by headstone after headstone. Some of them were large and ornate weeping angels, others were crosses jutting out of the ground. A fair few were simple concrete rectangles in the ground with a vase for flowers. The one they came to stop at was something in between.

It was about two feet high in the middle of the graveyard, simple text embedded into the shiny quartzite stone. A large hawk had been carved into its surface, wings spread wide mid-flight, beak parted as though it were releasing a fierce battle-cry. There was no vase for flowers anywhere near it. Instead, piles of stones were left all around it. They were in all shapes, sizes, and colors. One had a painted hawk on the surface that he knew Genevieve’s boyfriend had left behind at the funeral last year.

Arden placed the bag he carried on the ground and they let Aelin be the first to pick her stone. She picked a large smooth one, a paler gray than the headstone itself that fit perfectly in her palm. She folded her legs beneath her body as she knelt before it, trembling fingers tracing over the name.

ROWAN M. WHITETHORN

JULY 16, 1970 - NOVEMBER 11, 2020

HUSBAND. FATHER. HERO.

TO WHATEVER END.

A breeze shifted through the air, moving Aelin’s hair across her face and she could have sworn it was warm. She could have sworn she smelled the familiar pine and snow scent that she would always and forever associate with her husband. Aelin could have sworn it felt like a lover’s caress, like fingers brushing away the tear that slipped down her cheek.

Aelin wasn’t sure how long she sat there, surrounded by their children. Each of them swapped their favorite stories about their late father, about what they missed most. All of them cried enough tears that Terrasen could hit a rare drought but the patch of grass they held each other in would still be green as ever.

When they finally stood, the air had dropped a few more degrees because the sun had never come out to keep them warm. It made that fleeting warm breeze even more bizarre, the one that smelled like him, considering the one that rustled the leaves on the nearby tree was cold enough to bite.

Out of the corner of her eye, she swore she saw him. She swore she saw a head of silver hair sock his head in her direction, but she blinked and he was gone, her oldest son stepping up in the place she thought she saw him, felt him, smelled him. Silver hair faded into a golden blonde that matched her own, but the eyes that peered down at her were as bright green as his father’s. Aelin felt her face crumple as she leaned into him, resting her temple against his shoulder. She inhaled hard, desperate for that pine scent to feel her lungs, desperate to erase the last year of her life without him. Desperate to pretend that he was still alive and it was his shoulder that she put her weight on.

But it wasn’t. And it wouldn’t be.

Still, as she looped her arm through his and started to walk back toward the car with their kids, she spared a last glance over her shoulder, projecting their vows into the void of the world: to whatever end.

She wasn’t sure what it was, but Aelin was almost positive she heard his voice whisper it back as another strange, warm breeze wrapped around her and left her completely breathless.

[jeonjeonggukenergy]

Anti-Hero

summary ~ in search of wine at a party that’s so not your scene, you run into jungkook, the weeb from your film class, and become determined to learn just how much he lives up to his big reputation.

pairing ~ jungkook x reader

genre ~ fluff, smut - college!au

wordcount ~ 8.5k

warnings ~ 18+ only! smut, explicit discussion of kinks/sexual preferences (yay healthy communication), dom/sub undertones during both discussion and sex (dom Jungkook, sub reader), mentions of daddy kink and degradation but both are a no, marking, biting, hair pulling, spanking, they both have a srs pain kink lmao, brief oral (f receiving), penetrative sex, creampie

a/n ~ SO excited to finally have this chapter out for yall! it’s a huge one and i’ve been working on it for quite a while, this includes the first full smut scene for this fic and i would love to know how yall like it or any other feedback. i really enjoyed writing the character development in this chapter too! they’re so cute and whipped for each other already hhhhhh. thank you so much for loving this story so far, i’m really looking forward to writing the rest. hope you enjoy! ❣️

previous: chapter 1 | chapter 2 ~ next: chapter 4 (coming soon!) 

~ read on ao3 ~

CHAPTER 3 ~ particular, perfect

You concluded your walk home by ditching your shoes at the door, swinging your bag off your shoulders to the floor, and plopping down onto the couch immediately. Pulling all three nearby blankets over yourself, you realized you still weren't quite comfortable. You looked around for a second, puzzled, until an absentminded clutch of your boobs reminded you why. Triumphantly, you reached into a sleeve to untangle your bra and chucked it across the room with a deep stretch of relief. Okay, time to overthink again.

Jungkook? What the fuck?

Wait. A bag of chips on the kitchen counter caught your eye before you could descend any further into panic. The perfect emotional crutch. You clutched it to your chest like a safeguard against your own internal monologue, anxiously shoving handful after handful into your mouth. After about thirty minutes spent motionless on the couch with one hand shoved in the chip bag and the other distractedly scrolling through Twitter, your eyes suddenly widened and your hand froze, dropping your next bite of chips back into the bag. Fuck. You had just eaten nearly an entire family-size bag of chips before what could end up being your first fuck in over a year. Well, maybe this was part of why you hadn't gotten fucked in over a year. No, don't go there. You shoved down your own insecurity, knowing you'd just been too busy for a relationship and honestly, probably still were. But that wasn't going to stop you today.

You shook the chip dust off of your hands and got up to head to the shower, turning up your trashiest throwback playlist of getting-ready bops and resolving to at least shave your legs. Going in with no expectations was probably the best strategy here, but it never hurt to be prepared.

~

Having cleaned his apartment in record time, Jungkook was now at the gym. After triple-checking that his roommate Jin would be in rehearsal until 10pm at the earliest, he quickly scanned all the common spaces and his bedroom and realized he didn't actually have that much work to do besides politely closing the door to Jin's still-decent-but-somewhat-messier room. To be honest, Jungkook had mainly bought himself the time after class so he could shave just in case. But then he figured if he had to shower, he might as well hit the gym first. So here he was, burning off an unprecedented amount of nervous energy. Settling comfortably into the leg curl machine, he turned his music up and started on a low weight to put in reps until his thighs burned and his head felt pleasantly empty.

After completing his normal leg day rotation and dutifully stretching, Jungkook prepared to head home. He walked out of the gym feeling more energized and centered, barely even flinching when he switched his AirPods off to say bye to the nice girl at the front desk and the action accidentally blasted "Whistle" by Flo Rida from his phone speaker for the whole lobby to hear. As he walked back into his apartment, the kitchen clock let him know it was only 4:30. He had plenty of time. Jungkook hopped straight into the shower, shampooing his hair, shaving everywhere he normally did, and savoring several extra moments to relax his muscles under the hot stream of water. Finally, he toweled off to wrap up in the black t-shirt and cozy matching sweatpants he'd carefully stacked on the counter. Offhandedly singing to himself in the steamy mirror, he checked the time on his phone, deciding he might as well go ahead and text you before he got nervous again and did something stupid. Like chickening out completely.

hey its jk! im ready when u are :) my apt is 344 glencoe rd #1521 (yes its on the 15th floor sry D: )

His charming old-school smileys lit up your phone while you still had a leg perched on the bathtub's edge.

"Fuck!" you reacted. The hiss resounded, thanks to the too-good acoustics of your cramped bathroom. Your razor clattering to the floor, you paused your max-volume 2000s music to check the message, and then the time. Only 5! That wasn't dinnertime yet. Plugging his address into Google Maps, though, you realized it was a 15- to 20-minute drive from yours on the opposite end of campus. Even if you got ready at light-speed, you would get there closer to 5:30. Which was a bit more reasonable. He was being reasonable! You should be ready by now!

You leaned over to pick up your razor and cursed again as the water stream grazed the blouse you'd left on out of laziness. You'd showered this morning, so there was no need to repeat that with your shave, but now you'd have to change outfits completely. Feeling like an idiot, naked from the waist down but now all the way wet, you peeled the shirt over your head slowly to preserve your good hair day and glanced down at the dilemma you'd been facing. The patch of hair between your legs stared back at you like the final boss of stupid societal beauty standards. You'd only shaved down there once, as an anniversary present for your first boyfriend the summer before college, and it had been a fun, smooth novelty for about two hours and then itchy, red, gross-looking, and miserable for about three weeks. Also, it had kind of made you feel like a little girl, which creeped you out when you thought about why guys would prefer it. You'd been debating whether to try it again for the past fifteen minutes, because if there was ever a right time, this was probably it. But now you didn't have time, if you were going to be respectful and not keep Jungkook waiting. Well, this was the real you. He could take it or leave it.

Slathering a quick coat of lotion over your freshly shaved legs, you prepared to get dressed in a soft pastel sweatshirt and a flattering pair of workout shorts. Wait, should you wear lingerie? Was that too try-hard? You didn't really even need to wear underwear with these lined shorts, which could be a cool-girl move, you supposed. You settled on a cute white sports bra to go with the shorts, not wanting to deal with a real bra and hoping it still appealed to Jungkook's casual, athletic style. You checked yourself in the mirror briefly before grabbing your bag, confirming you looked chill enough but still felt like your best color-coordinated self. Heading out, you shoved a tin of chrysanthemum green tea in your water bottle pocket. Why not?

~

You whizzed over to Jungkook's apartment, yelling along to "Sex With Me" by Rihanna from your throwback playlist to hype you up in the car. When you knocked on his door after a nerve-wrackingly long elevator ride, Jungkook welcomed you with a "C'mon in!" amidst a mouthful of shrimp chips.

"It's not really dinnertime yet," (yeah, no kidding, you thought) "I went ahead and worked out but it's still kind of early, so I figured we could just have a snack and do the homework first."

"Sounds good," you affirmed. "I'm not really that hungry," (read: there's no way I can eat chips AGAIN right now, I'm going to bloat so badly) "but I brought tea so I can go ahead and make that if you want some too!"

"Oh cool, thanks!" Jungkook accepted. "Are you sure you're not hungry though?"

You almost gave into his sweet pout, but managed to convince him, and soon you both sat at the table with laptops open and twin cups of tea. You had a blast working together for the first time, acting out your "conversation" for the discussion board and pretending to respond spontaneously to each other's points like you hadn't already excitedly rambled back and forth through them in real life. You hit "send" five minutes apart, your idea to not seem too suspicious, and kept raving over Rear Window in between. As the sun lowered outside his living room window, you moved on to making the ramen.

After three offers to help Jungkook, all of which he denied, you simply made another steep of the tea, leaving a mug on the counter for him. Standing at the bar counter sipping yours, you enjoyed all the tiny, cute noises he made while chopping green onions and sprinkling extra garlic in the seasoning, like an anime character who came with his own sound effects. You could tell he made these recipe additions every time, because bulk quantities of the same simple ingredients lined the counters of his cozy kitchen. When he beat two eggs and dropped them into the pot, though, he couldn't seem to find a lid, and eventually settled on trapping the steam with a plate. You both waited on the egg for a silent moment, your foot bouncing under the bar while Jungkook restlessly acquired a slight wiggle. As he took a sip of his tea, a strand of hair fell over his eyes, and he yeeted it out of his face. Your inner language nerd cringed, but there really was no more apt word to describe the action.

You offhandedly said you liked his hair long, and he replied with a smile, "Maybe I'll have to keep it then."

"Do you like it too?" you wondered.

"Honestly no, it's kind of inconvenient."

"Oh, then why would you keep it?" you immediately asked back.

"Well..." he dragged out. "You like it? Maybe I should keep it if it looks better this way."

Your eyes crinkled appreciatively at his thoughtfulness, but then you backtracked. "Wait, no, it's okay! If you don't like it, don't feel like you have to keep it just because of something I said. You can do whatever you want."

"Hm, yeah." A demure smile tugged up the corner of his mouth as he lifted the plate from the ramen pot.

You watched him drag a chopstick through the floating, now-cooked egg to tear it into ribbons, then divide the noodles between two generously-sized bowls. He carefully wiped down the drips of broth from each bowl before sprinkling in his fresh toppings, then walked with you to the table.

Serving you with a pleased smile and a slight nod, he announced, "Dinner!"

"Wow," you mused playfully. "So gourmet."

"I'm really particular about my ramen," he admitted. "I have it down to a perfect routine at this point."

You took your first slurp of his particular, perfect ramen. "Well, it's really good. I'm impressed. And thanks for making me dinner, you didn't have to do all that."

"Oh, come on, it's instant ramen," he laughed. "Nothing special. And you brought the tea, so thanks. And thanks for coming over. And doing the homework with me. And...yeah." Rambling again. Why did he seem so...nervous? You were nervous. He couldn't be nervous. What reason did he have to be? But the twitch of his mouth under his wide eyes, his slightly reddened ears, his hand skittering over his neck—fuck—to ruffle his hair...every action turned another page of his open book. It felt infuriatingly unfair that genetics had assigned someone so sweet and shy and unsure of himself to that fucking body.

While you both ate and talked, you kept catching glimpses of any small flashes of skin you could find, as his long sleeves fell to expose his forearms and the wide neckline of his boxy black shirt gaped around his collarbones. What was wrong with you? Even if this did eventually turn into a dick appointment, the boy still had literally all of his clothes on. You tried to refocus on finishing your noodles, while your brain screamed at itself in shame that you could get this turned on by the sight of someone covered from neck to ankle.

Jungkook ate surprisingly slowly, probably because he kept pausing to excitedly explain his favorite things about the Cowboy Bebop episode you were about to watch together. You smiled into your tea through every out-of-context fun fact and "wait, sorry, that might have been a spoiler!"

Finally, he reached the bottom of his bowl and insisted on both taking your dishes to the sink and leaving them for him to clean later. "You sure you want to start on episode 2? Not 1?"

"Yeah, I remember well enough and your summary helped a lot too!"

"Okay, if you're positive!" he double-checked, grabbing the remote.

Gingerly lowering yourselves to the couch in sync, you avoided looking at each other as you both tried to calculate a comfortable distance between you. His hand looked ready to either hold yours or lower to your thigh, but he retracted at the last second, smoothing it over his own leg anxiously and still clearly itching to make a move. You shuffled closer to him until your thighs barely touched, and he shifted to slink an arm around you, letting your head rest on his well-muscled shoulder. After pressing “play”, he began wiggling slightly again, subconsciously grooving to the old-newspaper-style intro. Spike Spiegel appeared on the screen, his broad shoulders squared into a slouch as he listlessly watched TV. Jungkook kicked one leg over another and stretched his arms out symmetrically to echo the pose. Raising an eyebrow, he waited until you acknowledged him with a faux grimace and a hand to your ear, imitating the old man in a lab who’d just called up Spike for a new mission. You both burst into laughter and settled back into your former arrangement, Jungkook holding you imperceptibly tighter. Though you tried to stay staring straight ahead, wanting to genuinely appreciate the anime, you kept catching his doe eyes in the corner of your sight as you both giggled and gasped your way through the episode.

After avoiding eye contact too many times, you finally tilted your head for a cute sideways view of his face. He leaned toward you too, shyly closing the gap to touch his warm lips to your nose, then lower. You responded immediately, rolling your body with his so your chests met as he pulled you up into a full, deeper kiss. The longer you explored each other's mouths, the more Jungkook punctuated your movements with whimpers. He seemed hesitant to let his hands roam away from your face and neck, but his high, breathy moans made it clear that he was just as into this as you. Your hands had naturally found his taut waist, and at some point you started to bring them back up to his face too—but as your short nails grazed his chest, a particularly sensual, voice-cracking moan interrupted you. You drew back in slight surprise, blinking your eyes open to scan from his face to his body.

He followed your gaze, both slowly settling on the massive tent in his pants. You froze. Your breath grew heavier, confronted with evidence of his physical attraction to you, if nothing else. After regaining his composure, he laid a useless hand over his lap in a delicate attempt to distract you and brought his other hand up to tap your face lightly.

"Is this okay?"

His eyes glittered with equal parts hunger and concern.

"Yes!" you nodded, too quickly, too eagerly. "Yes, this is totally okay. Sorry if I'm being weird, I just...it's been a while." You cringed internally at your own words, but couldn't seem to avoid putting your foot further in your mouth. "I haven't really, like, hooked up like this before—like, I've had sex, but never really outside of a relationship. But don't worry, I get this is more your thing, and I'm totally down if you are. I just don't really know what I'm doing, and you clearly do."

Jungkook blinked at your admission, then his face twisted into something curious, inscrutable. Would he decide you weren't worth the potential for drama? His lips flattened out to a tight line, then pursed to speak, and you looked down at your lap, hoping he wasn't as embarrassed of you as you now were of yourself.

"Well, I've never had sex sober."

Your eyes flashed back up to his. A complex half-smirk offset the furrow in his brow as he exhaled in nervous relief. "So, I don't actually know what I'm doing here either."

You tried to delay your response as you processed the implications. "You mean..." You tilted your head for better eye contact, hoping to convey empathy but not pity while you silently contemplated how to proceed. "Never?"

"Yeah, I've always shown up to parties and the hookups just...happened. Nothing I didn't want, nothing bad like that, but always spontaneous. So I guess we're kind of meeting in the middle, because I've never really had to plan ahead for a situation like this and, uh, figure out what I want. Beyond, yknow, wanting to get laid in the moment, of course." Jungkook laughed off the end of his explanation, but the smile never quite hit his eyes.

"Well, okay, let's pause right there." You sighed. Something in his words didn't sit right with you. "What do you want? I want you to be sure about this, of course, but more than that, even—what do you like?"

"I..." he chuckled, sheepish, shaking his hair over his face again. "What, you want me to just tell you? Like, what I'm into?"

"Yeah," you shrugged, trying to project more confidence than you felt in hopes of encouraging him to keep opening up. "I want you to be able to communicate, I want you to be comfortable. And I want to know what you like, so I can make it as good for you as possible."

With your hands still laid flat on his chest, you felt his heart rate jump a tiny bit, and took the liberty of digging your nails in just slightly deeper. His breath caught him, and then he caught himself. "I don't know, I just want what you want."

Jungkook struggled to appear nonchalant as you rolled your eyes with an "Oh, come on," challenging his avoidance. Every instinct was telling him yes. He could hear his mind screaming at him to be intentional for once and let you take him, if not farther, then deeper than ever before. But he still hesitated, because being intentional in this case required him to be real. He had always been a fairly private person, but something about you made him feel so comfortable so fast that it counterintuitively made him more nervous. Of course Jungkook knew you weren't all innocent at this point, but the risk remained that you wouldn't really be down for everything he secretly wanted to explore. Even worse, though he didn't truly think you would, you could easily turn around and spin anything he revealed into yet another graphic rumor. Especially since you had no skin in the game yourself. He glanced down at your fingers, tensed into his chest, and narrowed his eyes.

"Why don't you tell me what you like first? And then I can tell you where we overlap," he grinned competitively. Your eyes widened as he tossed the challenge back your way. Not backing down, you flattened your hands and steeled yourself to settle the stakes.

"Fine—but only if you promise not to just go along with whatever I say. I'll let you know anything that's a hard no for me, but otherwise I want to hear at least one thing that's not on my list. I really do want what you want, that's how I am too, okay? So..." you paused to slide your fingertips over his collar and drag it down with a light scratch, now directly on his skin. You smiled with your eyes, enjoying the way he naturally responded with a hitch of his breath again. "Surely you can think of something specific."

He nodded quickly, before he could convince himself to back out. "Yeah. Promise."

"Okay," you confirmed, slightly nervous but determined to go through with this, for Jungkook's sake if anything. Seeing his body come alive with each new twist of the situation was building your curiosity, not to mention turning you on beyond belief. You could barely stand the warmth of his skin under your hands, so you drew them back to fold in your lap as you began. "So. Uh. To start. I've never really laid it all out like this either. I really like neck kisses? Like, a lot." Equally unused to this kind of directness, you wrung your hands together nervously, but sucked up the boldness to keep elaborating. "That's definitely, like, a big thing that turns me on...and then getting marked up and everything is really hot to me too. Like you can honestly go really rough with me on that, bite me even. I don't know if this is weird but even though it's annoying to cover up, I love taking off the makeup at the end of the day and seeing all the bruises on myself. Knowing I was walking around all day with that as my little secret." You swallowed shyly before continuing, but Jungkook interrupted the brief silence immediately with a hushed "Fuck."

You turned to face him fully and he didn't even move to meet your stare, eyeing the space above your sweatshirt's wide neckline like he was ready to devour you. Emboldened, your smile grew.

"So...yeah. I like being bitten, marked up. Mostly, uh," you rubbed a slightly trembling hand over your shoulder, "I'm just really into pain in general. Obviously not the bad 'I'm too dry and you're jackhammering me' kind of pain, or like, anal. Anal is a hard no. But things like biting, or hair pulling, or overstimulation. Or, like—I don't really know how to explain this, but...getting held too hard? That deep pain like when you get a massage when you're sore and it hurts but it's good, yknow?"

Jungkook looked like he was about to vibrate out of his skin, breathing shallow and rapid. His eyes flicked up to meet yours, just in time for you to whisper in conclusion:

"I love that feeling."

You suddenly looked away, reticent. A thick silence swelled between you, until he composed himself enough to punctuate it. "Okay. Yeah. Pain. So like, BDSM?"

"I mean, kind of? Sure? I don't have much experience with that and I don't really need the whole power dynamic aspect; I just like the, uh, physical pain. I wouldn't be opposed to trying further, but one thing I do know is I really don't like being degraded. And I'm not into the whole daddy kink thing either. I'm just not gonna call you that, sorry," you laughed, and fortunately he giggled too. "But I know that's not, like, necessary to the rest of BDSM, and the part about giving up control is still...interesting, for sure."

"Wait," Jungkook cocked his head, making a mental note of your last sentence before he went back to the previous one. "What do you mean, being degraded?"

You half-chuckled, half-cringed, never having needed to explain something like this, especially to a guy you hopefully were about to fuck. Cheers to better communication, you supposed.

"You know, how some people when they do dirty talk are like 'yeah, you little slut, you're such a whore.' I don't like being called any of that. Like it's fine that other people like it, there's nothing wrong with that, it's just really uncomfortable for me."

His brows knit together as you explained, and he shook his head so fast it almost looked cartoonish, like a little kid refusing vegetables. "Yeah, no. Don't worry, not really my thing either."

You sighed in relief. "That's nice. I feel like it's, like, weirdly common with guys. Maybe just the kind of thing people learn from porn."

"But you still like it rough, huh? Did you learn that...from porn?" he half-joked, trying to overcome both his shyness and his gritted-teeth arousal.

"No, I don’t like porn. Most of it’s really unethical. I learned from experience," you sassed back. "I don't have a whole lot, but enough to know what I like."

"Well. Hm." He worked his tongue over his teeth, poking one cheek out over his tensed jaw. You couldn't get enough of watching him grow fascinated by your every revelation, and you were preparing to keep pressing further when he beat you to it, posing a question. "Is there anything you haven't tried before, but really want to?"

Your face heated up instantly, tasting your own medicine. You looked back to your hands, breaking his intense eye contact to give yourself the courage to be even more uncomfortably honest. "I...I...um." Your first attempt at disclosing your fantasy came out as a squeak. Swallowing, you set your shoulders and tried again, selfishly reminding yourself Jungkook seemed so eager to please that this was 99% likely to get you exactly what you wanted. "I've always been, uh, really into the idea of, um, getting spanked. I've been, uh, too nervous to ever bring it up, before now obviously, but it's definitely one of the biggest kinks I've always wanted to try. Maybe being tied up too, I think I'd like it if I tried but I haven't thought about that as much. But, yeah...spanking, definitely."

"Fuuuuuuuuck."

A lengthened version of Jungkook's earlier under-breath exclamation made you peer up at him. Your thighs already pressed together from the tension of admitting something totally new, you found yourself needing even more friction just from the sight of Jungkook with his head thrown back on the couch, a veiny hand threaded in his hair to pull the long waves back from his forehead. The full reveal of his sharp eyebrows brought a whole new level of intensity to Jungkook's already beautifully carved features. He glanced over at you, then squeezed his eyes shut with a terse exhale. You couldn't place why, but you felt a deep attraction to the way he expertly restrained himself from acting on the lust written over his face—not under your control, but his own.

"Oh, fuck. What the fuck. How the fuck would you fucking know," he swore more in a single burst than he cumulatively had ever in your presence.

"What?" you toyed, heart rate still high but relaxed enough to enjoy agitating him. "Something ring a bell?"

Jungkook shuddered out a long breath, hand ruffling his hair as his other forearm still tried desperately to subdue his boner.

"Everything," he hissed, more willing to elaborate now that you had done the same, and especially now that he could tell you really did enjoy him being more assertive. "Shit. I...I want...I know you said not to just say this but I really do want everything you want. I can't wait to mark you up. I can't wait to hold you down and bruise your neck. I want it all, I want to make you hurt so good. And then—" Breathless. He looked almost embarrassed. "Then you had to go and somehow guess basically my biggest fucking kink, I can't fucking believe you." Both hands had come up to seize his long locks as he held himself back physically, while finally letting his guard down mentally to declare everything he intended to do to you. Letting out a short laugh, he finally met your eyes. "I wanna spank your ass bright red. Fuck. This is crazy. You're perfect."

Your core throbbed at every bold word. Leaning in close to him, you let your lips approach Jungkook's beautifully sculpted jawline as he panted, his chin tossed up to fully expose his neck. You stopped just short of his skin, in awe of how much you'd been able to work him up and still so tempted to take it to the next level. "Fuck," you echoed. "This is so hot," you murmured almost to yourself. Your eyes closing along with his, you dealt the final blow. "I love that we have so much in common. But come on, you promised. One thing that's not on my list."

Jungkook whined. You could tell he needed to touch you so badly, and no one was stopping him but himself. He had no way of knowing that if he cut the whole discussion and just took you, you wouldn't even try to resist at this point. Staring at his trembling mouth from below, you quickly averted your eyes when he opened his, pretending you hadn't been looking. He inhaled a short hiss, and then spoke.

"Okay..." He paused after just the first word, blowing air through the tiny "o" of his mouth as his eyes bugged slightly from nervousness. He couldn't resist a challenge, though, and his urge to please you overwhelmed his reluctance to peel back one more layer. "So, the pain thing. I think we, uh, feel the same about me giving and you receiving. But...I'm really into it for myself too. I don't know if you'd be comfortable with it, I know you maybe want me to be more dominant and I think I like that more too in general, but you can be as rough with me as you want back. I'd love that." Eyes still open but fluttering, Jungkook's tone grew breathier, heady as he confessed. You almost giggled at how bashfully he worded his desire to dominate you, to rough each other up, but the contrast was so hot you couldn't help sucking your bottom lip between your teeth, eager for him to continue. His voice lowered. "I love being scratched, marked, bitten...hit me, push me back, any kind of pain or any way you can hurt me, I want it." He shivered, but his voice firmed up even further. "I want it so bad."

You fought to stay motionless beside him, unable to even process how much more his honesty had turned you on. You felt helpless in your desire for him, your craving to give him everything he wanted and more. He noticed your charged stillness and shifted toward you, removing a hand from his hair to finally reach for your face. Threading his fingers through your hair instinctively like he had with his own, he tilted your head back to access your neck. Jungkook finally felt confident enough to tease you back as he skimmed his lips over your pulse point, tugging your skin between his teeth for a gentle first taste and grinning when you moaned. Seeing someone so satisfied, for reasons better than just his body or their pride, brought the most incredible rush of blood to his head. And his other head.

"And I get why you want it too," he finished with a whisper in your ear. "So trust me when I say I really, really want to give it to you."

In an instant, your hands yanked his hair down to bring his face up to yours, mouths crashing together. Feverish, restless, you kissed him, hastily attempting to straddle his thick thighs before he threw his body over yours and pinned you to the back of the couch. His hands wandered, intrepid, from your waist to a quick squeeze of your breasts before he spiraled you into his strong arms. Pressing your chest flush with his as your mouths meshed, he ground his hips into you shamelessly, enjoying the way you struggled beneath him to align your core with his rock-hard dick.

"Your room?" You rushed out the words.

Jungkook laughed a little, his tone half whine and half dare. "So we're done talking?"

"Come on," you pleaded back. He finally relented, pulling you up with him and dragging you across the living room and through his door, lips not leaving yours for a second. You backed him into the bed with your arms against his strong chest, and once he was sitting perched on the edge, you laid yourself horizontally over his thighs.

"What are you doing?" he murmured, curling a hand over the dip of your waist to hold you gently.

You angled your head back to make unsteady eye contact with him, flipping your shorts down boldly. His free hand automatically reached to slowly conform to the shape of your ass, so eager to touch you but tentative as he grazed your curves.

"Giving you exactly what you want."

"Fuck. Really? You're sure about this?" Jungkook held careful eye contact as you brought your arms back up, crossing your wrists over your head delicately. You nodded slightly and did your best to meet his gaze with confident invitation, convincing him how much you trusted and wanted him.

He smoothed his warm hand over your ass one more time, then brought it up and watched your thighs tighten at the loss of his touch. Breathing in, still a little shakily, he brought his hand down on your right cheek with a loud but mild smack. A grunt of satisfaction involuntarily left him when he saw your face flinch down into the sheets, subduing a small noise of surprise. He returned his hand to caress the light redness he'd left, checking in with you again. "Is this okay? Let me know if I should stop."

You replied with your face still tucked between your arms, muffled by the bed. "More than okay. Please don't stop."

He spanked you again, moving to your left cheek. This time you felt his dick twitch under you and couldn't help grinding down on him a little bit. "Is that as hard as you can go?" you taunted in low tones, brave enough to egg him on but not quite enough to meet his eyes again.

Jungkook's thighs and core tensed under you, and he squeezed his fingertips tighter, digging into the skin of your ass. "Not at all," he said simply.

Deep breath. A few seconds passed, and his hand came down, harshly. You cried out in shock, the timing unexpected and the sting far sharper, and he gave your other cheek a fourth hard smack before you could even process the third one. "Harder?" he tested. "Tell me."

Another spank. "Mmmf."

"You like this, huh?"

"Yes, I told you," you whimpered back, half-teasing even though you were in no position to do so. Immediately, he cut you off with a stinging hit across both cheeks, and you moaned.

"You really do," he breathed lowly. "Fuck yeah. Take it then."

He spanked you again, and again, then paused, tugging down your shorts all the way to your ankles to expose the crease right above your thighs. Rubbing your already sore bottom, Jungkook cupped the underside of its curve in his big, firm hand. Already anticipating your whine, he drew back his touch and hummed in harmony with you. He continued landing satisfyingly hard smacks, alternating to cover your ass evenly. His dick strained through his pants more and more each time you trembled under his touch. Never hitting you hard enough to do serious damage, he still clearly enjoyed his thorough reddening of your ass, and occasionally took a moment just to caress your skin as it warmed from the spanking. The pain lit your senses up from head to toe. Face burning with deep arousal, you mentally thanked yourself for going out of your comfort zone and unprecedentedly admitting your kinks before even venturing into your first time together. Amidst the thrilling sting of his hand meeting your soft curves, Jungkook eventually noticed your thighs clenching together, craving friction but not really wanting relief from the pleasurable burn.

"You're wet," he marveled, sliding two warm fingers up and down your slit.

"Mhm," you mumbled back as you tilted your hips into his hand. He gave you a light slap right on the folds between your legs, eliciting another soft moan.

"So good for me," Jungkook said softly, pulling you up into his lap by your waist. "You look so pretty like this. I wanna see all of you." He tugged your sweatshirt over your head, followed by your sports bra, thankful that it stretched over your head easily. Suddenly grinning, he wound up and shot it across the room like a rubber band, and you smacked his arm, giggling.

"What was that? You cheeseball," you teased, and he blinked, chuckling lightly back. It occurred to him that he'd never laughed, or made someone laugh, during sex before.

"It was so stretchy! Don't make fun of me," he blushed.

"You're so cute," you said, fingers sliding under his t-shirt hem.

"Cute?" His eyebrows rose in mock disbelief, and he reached around to land another hit to your still-red asscheek.

"Hot," you amended. Raising his shirt and finally getting a full glimpse of his enviable abs, you groaned. "You're extremely hot, and also really cute, and it's kind of ridiculous and I don't really know how to handle all of it at once."

His face scrunching up into a smile at the praise, he fell back onto the bed with his arms behind his head. "You are too, you know. Really cute, of course. But really hot too." As you discarded his shirt and moved on to easing his sweatpants down his hips, you held in a gasp as his erection sprung up from the waistband. He was big, thick, and painfully hard, his tip glistening warm with precum and a lone vein running prominently up his smooth shaft. Although you wouldn't be corroborating them, you had to admit to yourself that all the rumors were true. You instinctively curled a hand around it, barely covering half his length, and he winced at your slightest touch. Pulling off with a single slow stroke, you slid his sweatpants and briefs all the way to the floor and then stood, looking up from his legs to his blown-out eyes to take in the glorious sight of his fully naked body.

"You shave," you said, surprised by the clean skin under his arms and between his legs.

"Yeah," he demurred, self-conscious for some reason. He lowered his arms to fold them over his torso, somehow defining his biceps even more. "I'm on the dance team, and it's nice to feel all smooth for practice and stuff. I don't know, I just like it."

"Oh, that's cool! No worries, I like it too. And you don't mind that..." You looked down at yourself, still just standing naked in front of him. "...I don't? Like, down there at least."

"No, you do you!" he said quickly. With a shy smile, he admitted, "I actually kind of like it on you. I do this for me, anyway, not for anyone else," he playfully noted. Slowly, he was sitting up to take hold of your waist and lower you down to the bed with him. Pausing to kiss the sweet spot under your jaw, he continued. "So don't feel like you have to do anything, or not do anything, either."

Jungkook couldn't quite explain the nature of how his attraction to you had developed. Seeing how open and honest you were with him made it easy for him to be honest with you too, and just to feel comfortable being himself. He admired the way he could still tell you sometimes got nervous like him, but it didn’t stop you from getting real or going bolder. Unable to fully express it in words, he just hoped to ensure you felt as comfortable and respected around him as he did around you. He already knew that he wanted this to be more than just a one-time thing, and while he still hesitated to assume that you felt the same, he intended to leave no doubt by the end of the night.

You moaned as he nipped at the skin of your neck. It was so easy to get swept back up in Jungkook. You could barely handle the friction of his dick rutting against your wet folds from below, craving him inside you. "Ughhh. Wait, one more thing. I'm on the pill, are you clean?"

"Yes," he gasped, barely removing his mouth from your jaw. "Are you?"

"Yeah, so we don't need a condom. If that's cool with you!"

"Yeah! But, you're ready?" He seemed surprised.

"Aren't you?" you whined, beyond holding back. He felt so unbearably hard that his coherence and willpower kind of surprised you too. "Please, I want you so bad."

To your surprise, he lowered his head to the crest of your legs, dotting wet kisses down your torso. Keeping his big brown eyes on you, he teased your entrance with a finger and echoed your immediate groan at the welcome stretch.

"You really are ready," he remarked, awed at the ease with which your wetness sucked the digit in. Frankly, you were in awe as well. It had taken your ex-boyfriend months to figure out how to get you this worked up. Jungkook either had even more experience than you'd heard from the grapevine, or he was a natural. Or maybe you were just really, ridiculously, primally attracted to him. He went on to curve his finger in you and lick a messy swipe up your folds, sucking hard once he reached your sensitive clit. You cried out at the delicious burst of stimulation and he rose up to catch your lips with his.

"I had to do that, just once," he grinned breathlessly. "But—"

"Let me suck you off," you interjected, unbelievably fucking turned on and dying to please him.

"No," he gasped with far more fervency than you'd think anyone could refuse a blowjob. "Please, I was about to say—" he choked out a high-pitched moan as you ran a single finger up his shaft in anticipation, sinking the nails of your other hand into his thigh. "—I think I'm gonna explode if I don't get inside you right this second."

So he did have a breaking point. "Fuck," you muttered, bringing your legs around his to tuck your heels under his tight ass as he lined up. He eased his tip in, keeping heavy eyes on you the whole time, and you could feel the hot, thick tension in his thighs as he struggled to hold himself back from just thrusting into your heat. Slowly, he drew closer into you until he bottomed out with a low moan. You whined at the perfect slight pain of the stretch, and Jungkook squeezed his eyes shut, gripping you by your waist. Watching the veins in his forearms stand out as he drove almost all the way out and back into you, you rocked your hips carefully against his with each smooth stroke, getting used to his fullness. When his balls met your ass again, he shuddered a bit and opened his eyes into yours.

You answered his question before he could even ask it. "Jungkook—you feel so good. You can go faster, it's okay."

A smile hit his eyes before his mouth, and he kissed you once, pressing his chest to yours and intertwining your tongues eagerly. You bit his bottom lip as he slowly drew away, tugging it between your teeth to pull a sweet little whimper from his throat. Grinning, he leaned back in to touch his forehead to yours and simultaneously slid a subtle hand under your ass to curve your hips up with his. The slight leftover sensitivity of your skin amplified his light touch, and Jungkook seemed to realize this, curling his fingers to tease you with the tips of his nails. Instinctively, you ducked to bite his neck, not even registering your move to pass the pain back to him until he choked out a beautifully half-restrained moan and snapped his hips into yours. Gasping, you encouraged him to lose himself in you, dragging your lips up to latch around his earlobe. He hissed and thrust into you sharply again, meeting the time of your movements as you swirled your tongue between each of his hoop earrings. Soon he was pounding you rhythmically, finally letting you feel the full force of his strength but keeping remarkable control over both his body and yours. Both of you had gone silent except for your heavy breaths, lost in the moment, but the flexed shivers of his thighs and twitches of his fingers in your hair told you all you needed to know. Suddenly yanking your strands to pull you back from the additional bruise you'd sucked beneath his ear, he earned a new set of scratches on his back as your hands dragged down the muscular expanse in reply. Jungkook switched places with you to draw dark clouds from your skin, a storm brewing under your jaw. Your face fell into pure bliss, eyes shut and immersed in the barrage of sensation from his hands, mouth, and big dick filling you. Already feeling the familiar tension that preceded an orgasm building through your whole body, you chased him closer to his climax too, grinding back roughly into every thrust and raking your hands over every part of his firm body you could reach.

You had really been fooling yourself when you thought you could try something casual for once. You wanted more of Jungkook, all of Jungkook, nothing but Jungkook ever again. Knowing he'd never even gone back to the same hookup twice sank slight anxiety into your stomach, a kind of future nostalgia for this moment you already feared losing. You knew you weren't anything special compared to the catalogue of gorgeous girls he'd had his turn with, but a deviant voice whispered from the back of your mind that you could be, because it was clear none had bothered to learn him like this. You'd still try your desperate best not to want too much from him, but you resolved to do whatever you could to make him crave more.

Rolling your hips in a smooth circle against him, you clenched around his dick and your hands tightened their fierce hold on his tiny waist. You felt his abs tense within your grasp as he tried not to stutter into you.

"Fuck. No." His voice cracked, but held an undertone of ferocity. "You come first." Jungkook rushed a hand to your clit, adding pressure in small, deft motions with a fingertip as he kept fucking you deep. You sank your teeth into his shoulder in response, drawing your hands up his back to clutch him closer to you, and Jungkook cried out. You left your mouth on his golden skin to stifle your moans as he sped up his fingers, and he tried to let you stay there but eventually couldn't help pulling you off him to see your face. Eyes narrowed and eyebrows turning up sharp at the ends, he watched you like a hawk to track the exact moment when he pushed you over the edge. Your face crumpled and you felt your whole body burn under his gaze as you came, squeezing around him in waves of pleasure while he fucked you through your high, unrelenting. Drinking up the bliss obvious on your features, Jungkook's eyes never left yours and his expression grew more and more fucked out. You marveled at how even as you lost control and energy to fuck him back, your body freezing in orgasm seemed to turn him on further. One last pulse of the tension leaving your core made his dick throb inside you, and you impulsively broke your eye contact to lean in and bite down slow but hard on his neck again. He gasped.

"You're amazing." Murmuring into his skin, you kissed the bite marks gently. Jungkook whimpered at the sweet contradiction and lurched into your hips even harder. You recovered to move with him, squeezing him deeper into you every time he bottomed out, and as his breathless moans escalated in pitch, his whole body shivered with each stroke. Pressing wet, heavy kisses all over his neck, you felt his jaw flutter while his lips hung open. His considerable strength spent, Jungkook shuddered one last hard thrust into you and finally let go, coating your walls from within. His hips lightly rocked against yours as he stayed deep inside you, still hard and savoring the euphoric release he'd held back for so long. You felt so incredibly warm and comfortable around his sensitive dick, relaxed but still holding him tight, and he couldn't help holding you up for a languid kiss before pulling out of you smoothly.

He briefly looked into your eyes, and you saw stars. The sun had continued to set outside, and it peeked between the blinds of his window to wrap you both in a warm, slivered glow. Staring down at his hands on your body, Jungkook took a deep breath and collapsed to your side, holding you close. You settled into him, cupping a hand over his head on your chest. With your fingers laced through his sweaty hair, you stroked his temple with your thumb, worrying for a second whether the gesture seemed too intimate but forgetting your fear when he snuggled up into your touch. You felt the need to say something, to figure out what the fuck was next after this, but stayed silent, not wanting to disturb the comforting weight of his frame. Heartbeat still racing, Jungkook stretched out to breathe a long sigh. As he sank back into you, you stretched under him too, letting his solid, warm body drape over you like a blanket. This couldn't be farther from what you'd expected with him, but you weren't about to make it stop. Surely, eventually, he would.

A minute passed. And then five. And then, before either of you could talk yourselves out of it, you were asleep, intertwined.

[1wishyouwould]

Emptiness. That’s all there was. A shadow lay across Sam’s world, only briefly lit by fire. Then smoke descended again. He didn’t know how long it had been since his brother had died yet he knew, some how it had be 6 weeks 5 hours and 43 minutes since the world come undone around him. The silence wasn’t the worst part, the wrong noises were. The humming of off key metallic riffs and whispered curses still lingered in the empty bunker.

Walking the halls turned out to be the newest way to pass the time, a new game if that was what it could be called. Walk as far as possible, to fall on the floor, unable to bare the weight of a world, without his brother in it.

It took him weeks to be able to go in to his room again, but the smell of old beer was almost as bad as the blood he could never quite wash off his hands. So walk in he did heart in his stomach, and a miracle at his side. He walked. Because he had too. So when he found a box under his brothers bed, Sammy written across it in the block letters of a child. He was taken aback. The lock on the front was old yet it had been recently unlocked by the lack of dust surrounding the key hole.

Searching around the room led to nothing but old pornos, and half stale pizza slices. Until he looked up from grasping underneath the bed, at a confused looking mutt, with an oddly shaped tag dangling from its collar.

Sitting up, and festering for the dog to come closer, he carefully pulled the collar over miracles head. Attached was a generic dog tag, and a single key. “Always loved your mysteries” a choked sob came out of his mouth, muffled slightly by a hurriedly rubbing at his eyes.

Leaning against the end of the bed, he inspected the lock and key. A perfect match. Fitting the key in he turned, pausing only to shift in to a more comfortable position. The inside was filled with papers, nicknacks and assorted bullet casings. One letter sat on top of the rest, that seemed to be the most resent. It was signed to him in deans haphazard script and sealed with red wax. Opening the seal reveled a letter dated a few days before his brothers death. A last gift perhaps. - - - Hey Sammy you and I both know I’m shit at saying my words out loud, and heaven forbid I actually admit to like or care about something. But the thing is Sammy I do care about three things in this world. You, my baby, and Cas. But it will always be you first, thats why I made this box Sammy, its for you my last gift to you. If i’m dead. And we both know id never let you read this if I was alive, I want you to know a few things.

First: Im waiting for you Sammy no matter where I am, I’m waiting for you. Cause your my stupid ass little brother and I’ll always need you. I cant be happy anywhere with out you in it.

Second: Take care of yourself, I know you. You learned one of my worst character flaws “everything is my fault” Its not Sammy I don’t care how I went it would never be your fault. Find Eileen stop hunting for a bit and just live. Just live Sammy. Be a human and get stuck in grocery lines for insane amounts of time or drive your kid to school. Just don’t name him John and your all good.

Third: cut your hair you look like a damn Sasquatch.

I don't know if I will have the time to write any more letters. And I’ve rewritten this letter so many times. So since this is the last one I wrote before my death then here’s what’s just happened. Cas is gone. The empty came for him. Bobby, Charlie and even the damn miracle dog, their all gone. As I sit here writing to you Lucifer and Michel are having th staring contest to end all staring contests. Because I might be too busy trying to save the world again, from God.

So, if this does end up being the last letter, I just want you to know that I was in a bad place before I started hunting with you. And you helped me. You helped me Sammy, we’ve lost so much since I walked in your door all those years ago. Even if you didn't know what I was talking about. You in your weird striped pant thingy, and a girlfriend. Being with you made me not feel alone.

Because I know there are people who will say our lives didn’t happen, tell those sons of bitches how awesome I was. And there are people who will forget what it’s like to be normal when they get dragged along on the journey of being a hunter. I know our lives will be stories someday. And our pictures will become old photographs.

And you’ll be somebody's dad, because I can’t imagine a time where I die without saving you. But right now, these moments are not stories. These are our lives, our crazy demon, angel, monster filled lives. This is happening. We’re here. And as I look at this world so beautiful. And so broken. But it was Home. It was our Home. You, me, jack and that wonderful angel, following each other from heaven to hell, and everywhere and everything in-between.

And in this moment, standing against God himself, with little to no chance to survive but sheer dumb Winchester logic and luck. I would swear on my own soul.

We are infinite.

So get up off your ass, we’ll see each other again. Death hasn’t ever been able to keep us apart, even if there’s a new reaper I doubt that will change. But don’t worry I’ve got my hand full waiting for you. And I for one cant wait to see Kevin, and Charlie’s faces.

And besides I’ve got an Angel to run after.

Love your brother, Dean

- - -

After The tears slowed down long enough to read the letter once, he read it again. And again. Until the words could be read when he closed his eyes. Picking himself up, and off the floor, he walked towards the door, pulling on one of deans larger jackets on. Making his way slowly through the bunker, the dog at his heels, a silent companion.

Packing himself in to the drivers seat of the impala. He drove. Past hills and mountains, through valleys and towns. The same old mixtapes playing on repeat. And so the stories rose up. The tale of a man, searching for a woman. Who would stop at nothing to find her.

Hunters gathered around fires, in kitchens, and anywhere more than three could sit long enough to hear the tale of the Winchester brothers. The boys not even death could separate. The avenging angel, who would always come when called. And if you were lucky enough to find someone who knew them you could count yourself lucky, as not many that did lived to tell their tale.

It took time. Several thousand contacts. And mile after mile of the same road. But find her, he did. In an old run down dinner outside Chesapeake she waited. Together, tears shed for the ones lost along the way, old pains were dulled and almost forgotten. Except green eyes. Those would forever remain. Burned like a hand print in Sam's mind.

They settled down, and for once Sam got to be on the other end of the job. Instead of protecting people with guns and swords. He protected people with warm hugs and tender words. This life came almost easily to him. The routine distracting him from the ghost of almost forgotten smiles.

When his time came there was no fuss. Just a hand holding his. Dean. His sun, his son. The light that had been extinguished by the passing of his brother had come roaring back with a passion with the birth of his son.

His son.

Those simple words brought him so much joy. But sam knew. He could feel it. The end was here, and he wondered what might have happened if he had given up on that empty bedroom floor.

“You can go Dad its ok”

- - -

“Bitch”

“Dean”

[scatterpatter]

An Alicorn(get it? get it???) fic because im self indulgent

I just wanted to write about Corren and @jazznet‘s Alistair(GET IT? ALISTAIR AND CORREN- ALI COR-N? pls laugh im beg) bonding and stuff, so like... I did. I lov them a lot so have nearly 4k words of them snarking at each other

Word Count: 3,853

Content warnings: swearing, off-screen character with unnamed severe illness, implied toxic familial situation, mentions of death

“Ah, well, can’t say this is the deadliest situation I’ve been in!”

“Speak for yourself, dipshit!” Corren yelled, tugging Alistair’s wrist harder as they weaved through the trees of the forest, nearly tripping over thick tree roots and dense shrubbery “Is it still tailing us?!”

Alistair glanced behind them for only a moment, and lo and behold, there was a massive dragon flying just above the treetops, eyes fixed on the two F.U.C.K.s “… You got any teleporting spells left?”

“You think I wouldn’t have cast one if I did?!” The Marelienth yelled, panic spiked way too much to bother acting nice. If he had any 4th-level spell slots left, he could easily teleport the both of them a good 800 feet away from the situation, but of course he wasted them all earlier in the fight.

“Well, at least we know everyone else is safe!” Alistair chirped, sarcasm in his tone to combat the adrenaline as they both ran for their lives.

“Yeah, good for them, let’s maybe not get killed ourselves before we celebrate!” He tugged on the human’s wrist to get them going once more. Maybe if he could get under enough tree cover, they could get out of sight and the dragon won’t notice them… Corren cast a brief look over his shoulder-

Oh.

Oh no.

The dragon was still right behind them, only rather than just chasing them down, they began to suck in the energy around them, a bright fireball forming in its mouth as it prepared a breath attack.

Oh, fuck.

His gaze quickly fell to Alistair, sizing up his wounds. Normally their leader had enough health to survive some of the heavier hits, but he was already looking roughed up from before. Oh no… he might not instantly get killed if hit, but he’ll definitely get knocked out, and leaving him half-dead with a dragon probably won’t end well.

Corren, though, knew he himself was going to die instantly if hit. And death doesn’t sound very good right now. He’ll take a hard pass. But without the ability to teleport…

Wait. He didn’t waste all of his lower-level magic yet. Maybe he could…

Oh, fuck it.

With a quick wave of his hand, he summoned a rope that seemed to come down from a blank space in the sky, almost as if leading up into nothing, and ending about 10 feet above them. He gave it a quick test tug before handing it to Alistair. “Climb.”

“What is-”

“NO TIME, JUST CLIMB.” He barked, nearly shoving the human to climb the rope, satisfied once he did so and quickly following suit, the heat of flames brushing by his ankles as they both disappeared from the area.

… Corren allowed himself to breathe as he climbed up and fully into the small wooden structure he made, quickly shutting the small trap door he came in through. “That… was way too close for comfort.”

“Uh.” Alistair still seemed panicked, though Corren took ease knowing he was safe in this space. “What-?!”

“Chillax, it’s a spell I know.” He waved a dismissive hand, taking a seat against the nearest wall to rest. With the adrenaline finally passing, all he felt was exhaustion overtaking. “It’s called ‘rope trick’. We can camp out here for a while, and hopefully when we leave again, the dragon won’t be there anymore.”

“I… oh.” Alistair blinked, his own panic seeming to now die down in their temporary safety. Alistair was a pretty competent spellcaster, so Corren knew he wouldn’t have to explain too much detail for his leader to get the gist of what he was doing.

The human looked around, fully absorbing their surroundings now that he had the time to do so. They were in a small wooden room, the “trap door” being the only exit. Two windows lined the walls, looking out into an expanse of forest. Though, unlike the warm, deciduous forest they were fleeing in moments ago, this forest seemed to be made of pine and mountainous trees, air much cooler and less humid than where they were before. Small bookshelves and chairs made most of the furniture in the room, little drawings and maps tacked to the walls, it was almost like… “Are- Are we in a treehouse?”

“Mhm! … Well, technically no.” Corren pulled a book from one of the shelves, absentmindedly flipping through its pages as he explained “We’re in a demiplane right now. We can’t leave this room, except to exit back to where we came from, so don’t bother trying to climb out a window.” He snorted a bit, remembering the time he attempted to, only to be smacked in the face by the planar equivalent of a brick wall. “I can choose how this looks, though, so I wanted it to look like this.”

Alistair cocked an eyebrow, amusement flashing over his expression beneath the shock “… You do not strike me as the treehouse type.”

“I’m not! Well, not anymore, I guess.” He shrugged, trying to wave off the embarrassed blush he felt creeping on his face at opening up about his… I guess this would be his more vulnerable side. “I uh… I had one just like this when I was a kid. It’s... I don’t know.” He cast a look down to the book in his hands, smiling fondly as he caressed his fingers over the page “It’s kind of comforting, I guess.”

Alistair stood there a minute, seeming to almost study the situation… then walked over, sitting by the Marelienth’s side. “Well, guess we have some time to kill. Got anything good in there?” He grinned, motioning to the bookshelf nearest to them.

Corren laughed a bit- surprised that he caught himself laughing, actually- and set his own book aside “I wouldn’t pick from that shelf, actually. It’s more children’s books than anything than else.”

Alistair smirked “Weren’t you just reading one from that shelf?”

“I was flipping through it for the nostalgia, dipshit.” Corren glared… though they both knew that his annoyance was completely surface level. He quickly rolled his eyes, standing up stepping over to another shelf to browse through the books he stored there. “Hang on, I’ll find something.”

What would Alistair’s tastes be? … He’d probably be more like Julian than Mila, so he’ll browse Julian’s old books. He clicked his tongue, running a finger over each book’s spine, scanning their titles. Would Al be a fiction or a non-fiction type…? … Hm. He paused on one book, hesitant for a moment, but decided it might be an interesting read for the Weathervane.

Alistair blinked in surprise when the book was dropped on his lap, taking it in his hands and reading the title out of curiosity “’History of Spellcasting in Marelienth Society’?”

Corren shrugged. “I don’t know, I thought you might find it interesting, since you’re magical, but it’s also something you probably don’t already know.”

Alistair hummed in response, flipping through a few pages to get a sense of what he was reading. “… Could use more pictures.”

“Oh my gods.” Corren pinched the bridge of his nose “I should have let you pick from the children’s shelf.”

They both laughed as Corren sat by his side once more, unable to help the smug grin as he saw Alistair’s attention quickly shift back to the book, finding a section and quickly latching onto it. He watched the human’s eye scan the page with fervor, absorbing whatever he could in the limited time they had.

Corren couldn’t help the way his smile went from smug to something softer. The way Alistair acted, how he was so passionate about all he did and all he was interested in, the way he loved what he did so effortlessly… Despite any fears and anxieties that weighed him down, he always found a way to trudge forward. It was all-to-familiar to Corren, though it was something he hadn’t witnessed in years. It was… almost uncanny how much Alistair reminded him of…

“Julian!!!” Corren yelled, slamming the door to their treehouse open and giving an angry gasp at the Marelienth inside. “I knew you were in here still!”

The older Marelienth gave a small wave, but didn’t pry his eyes away from his book “Just give me five minutes, I’m almost done this chapter!”

“You said the same thing half an hour ago!!!”

“… I started a new chapter since then.”

Corren groaned loudly, fully climbing into the treehouse and crawling over to his older brother, flopping against his side dramatically “I’m boooooored!!!”

Julian just laughed, finally defeated by the child’s antics, and set his book aside, using just one arm to scoop Corren up as he got to his feet. Julian was still somewhat young, not fully grown into adulthood yet, but still stood a good 6 feet tall. Corren, on the other hand, was still a child, and was very small compared to his brother. “Alright, alright, you drama queen. I need to pick up supplies for tomorrow’s run anyways, so you can come along.”

Corren didn’t seem to mind being carried one-handedly, just swaying his legs happily “Yay~!”

The two brothers left their treehouse, walking past their home and onto the streets of their town of Warrencrest. The forest surrounding their town left a scent of pine in the air, accompanied by a hint of frost to signify the changing of the seasons. Corren was set down at this point, and settled for keeping up a quick pace to match Julian’s longer strides. He held onto his brother’s hand, though, which made sure he didn’t get left behind or lost by chasing some distraction.

With his brother leading them along, Corren let his eyes wander over their town as they walked through it. Warrencrest was a mostly Marelienth-occupied town, and it was pretty rare to see other races around their home. Everyone seemed to keep to themselves, always focused on studying time and magic and all sorts of other things that Corren ‘wasn’t mature enough to understand yet’. He felt like he was living in a bubble sometimes- it was like his siblings were the only ones who wanted to talk to him… about anything other than academics, at least. Though, that really only bothered him so much. I mean, he had 2 best friends, and he just happened to be related to them! It only sucked when they would go on short quests for some extra gold and Corren had to stay home and wait for them to come back.

Speaking of quests… “What’s the job you’re doing this time?”

“Hm? Oh, uh, let me check.” Julian used a free hand to reach into his pocket, pulling a sheet of paper out and unfolding it. It was a help wanted ad, easy to find on job boards outside of stores or taverns. He read over the terms, eyes scanning the details before he sighed and shoved the job offer back in his pockets “Just a delivery run. Apparently the passage to get to this other town is pretty rough on the terrain, and the Client’s getting up there in years, so he figured it’d be a safer bet to pay someone else to do it.”

Corren pouted, disappointed at the terms “Awww, no fighting a big scary monster or anything?”

Julian snorted, caught off-guard by the sheer absurd innocence of such a question “No, no scary monsters. Sorry to be the one to break it to you, little buddy, but questing isn’t always this grand adventure. Sometimes it’s boring, but at least you get paid… like a job!”

“Ew.” The younger Marelienth stuck his tongue out. Adventuring being boring like a job??? Gross. Though that could probably mean… Corren suddenly perked up “Oh! So if it’s not dangerous, can I come with you?”

“Uh, I don’t know…” Julian sighed, scratching his cheek “Like I said: it’s rough terrain. The last thing I’d want is for you to trip and fall down a cliff and become a Corren-Pancake.” Despite the lighthearted joking, he cringed a bit “Uh, yeah, Dad would definitely kill me if I brought you home as a skeleton instead of a Marelienth. Besides, I’ll need you to stay home and take care of our big sis while I’m gone!”

Corren frowned, tilting his head a little “She’s not going with you either?”

“Uh… no.” The lighthearted air he had around him before quickly dissipated, and he squeezed Corren’s hand a little bit “Mila’s still sick, so I don’t think she’ll be able to go questing for a while…”

How sick was she? Usually whenever Corren got sick, he’d be fine after just a couple of days, but Mila’s been stuck at home for nearly 2 weeks now! “… She’s gonna get better, right?”

Julian hesitated, only for a moment, but if Corren were older he would’ve known exactly what that hesitation meant. Instead, he was met with a reassuring smile and a pat to the head “Of course she’s gonna get better. This is our big sis we’re talking about, it takes more than just a little cold to knock a Hartwell down!”

Corren just giggled, content with the answer he got “Yeah, you’re right, but I’m gonna be the best protector until then! I know magics now!”

“That so?” Julian quickly let the lighthearted air roll back in, grateful for his brother’s naivety. “Well, show me something, then!”

Corren just grinned, letting go of his hand to run over to the side of the street, picking up a small rock and trotting back over to him. With a small wave of his hand, the rock suddenly became illuminated, giving off light like a torch.

“That’s ‘Light’, isn’t it?” Julian smiled, impressed by that small spell he was able to cast “Well look at you, learning neat Cantrips! Next thing you know, you’re gonna be the most powerful spellcaster in all of Sekrezia!”

“You know it!” Corren ate up the praise, dropping the rock and putting his hands on his hips in a prideful pose before going back to walking by Julian’s side “You know, I’m gonna be a great adventurer one day.”

“Is that so?” He suddenly grabbed Corren, hoisting him up and over his head in order to perch him on his shoulders and carry the smaller Marelienth that way “You’re going to be a hero and explore the world?”

“Yeah!!!” Corren grinned, not even blinking to the idea of riding on Julian’s shoulders. It made him feel tall! “I’m gonna team up with a bunch of other cool adventurers, and we’re going to save the world from all sorts of eeeevil monsters! And I’ll be super cool and know all sorts of neat spells!” He pushed his glasses back into place after they slipped down his nose a bit “I’ll go down in legends, and everyone’s going to think I’m super cool! ‘Corren Hartwell, the bestest adventurer of all time’!”

“’Bestest’?” Julian parroted, unable to keep in a small fit of laughter at just how pure that was “Alright, well when you’re rich and famous, can I get some of the gold you earn?”

He huffed, bapping his brother on the forehead “No way, stink-face, that’s my hard-earned gold, you can make your own!”

“Alright, alright, can’t blame your poor feeble brother for trying.” He joked, rolling his eyes fondly as they made it to their town’s main market square. “… You’ve got that spark, Corr. I feel like if you really worked at it, you could be a really cool mage. … Almost as cool as me.”

“Almost?!” He squeaked, pouting at the way his brother got such a laugh out of that.

Well, he hasn’t exactly saved the world or gone down in legends, but…

“Corren?” Alistair snapped his fingers in front of the Marelienth to catch his attention, snapping Corren out of his daze “Hey, you still with me?”

“Huh?” He blinked once or twice, pulling himself back to present day to focus his attention on the human “What’s up?”

“It looked like you were spacing out on me, you good?”

“Oh. Yeah, I’m okay.” He scratched the back of his head sheepishly, not realizing just how long he was getting lost in old memories for. “Sorry, just reminiscing.”

Alistair nodded, going back to his book for a few moments… then cast a gaze back at Corren. “Why’d you leave?”

Corren went stiff, not expecting such a personal question out of the blue like that. “… What do you mean?”

He cast a look around the room again, noting all of the makeshift maps of nearby areas and crude drawings that lined the walls “It just… seems like you had a pretty good childhood. And this definitely isn’t anywhere near Lilenthemar. So why’d you leave?”

Ah. Corren knew he’d have this conversation sooner or later, but he still didn’t know how to talk about… everything that happened. How could you put what happened into words? He knows that if he’s to stay with the group, he’ll probably have to come clean about everything sooner or later, but… well, he’ll put off that conversation as long as he can. “… You’re right, I did have a pretty good childhood. Things were never perfect, but… I was happy.”

Corren ran a hand along the wood that made the walls. The actual treehouse he grew up in was long gone; wood rotted and the tree toppled, but in this demiplane, it was like his old hangout was preserved in time. … If anything, that only upset him more, knowing that everything around him was just a projection of what used to be, a childhood and innocence he could never get back. “… I’m sure you’d know this better than I ever would, but good things… have a tendency not to last.” He took a deep breath, swallowing his fears and letting himself open the fuck up for once. “After some things went wrong, I wasn’t happy here anymore… and after some more things went wrong, I didn’t even feel safe here. So, I left. I wasn’t even planning on staying in Lilenthemar, but I just so happened to meet Jethro and… well. You can’t exactly say no to a job offer from a man like him.”

Alistair snorted, fond memories of how they met Corren through their shared connection with Jericho’s father… and how they practically broke the poor Marelienth with their shenanigans. That fondness quickly faded, though, in favor of the sympathetic frown he cast to his teammate “… I’m sorry, about everything that happened. You didn’t deserve to feel unsafe in your own home.”

“Yeah…” Corren sighed, folding his arms and avoiding eye contact like the plague. He still wasn’t used to weird and intimate moments like this. “You’re right, I didn’t deserve that, but… hey, sometimes bad things just… happen. And I mean… I’m not really that sorry about it.”

“You’re not?”

The Marelienth shook his head “I mean, it sucked, don’t get me wrong about that, but. If I never ran away, I never would’ve met Jethro or Raerose. And if I never worked for Jethro, I never would’ve met- or eventually teamed up with- all of you, so…” He shrugged, a small smile tugging at his expression “I’d say it wasn’t all bad.”

Alistair just returned the smile, giving Corren a light punch on the arm “So you do love us and our antics~”

He rolled his eyes, grateful to have the tense and vulnerable moment passing for their usual snark “Oh live it up, weather boy. Just be grateful I keep sending your love messages to your boyfriend free of charge.”

“We love you too, Corren.”

He snorted, punching the human back “That’s it, I’ve had enough of your bullshit feelsy mush. That dragon’s probably gone by now, and we should regroup with the rest of the F.U.C.K.s.”

“Aw, can’t we wait just five more minutes?” Alistair pouted, motioning to the book he was given earlier “I’m almost done this chapter!”

Corren blinked incredulously, not believing his ears for a minute. He really just… “Holy shit. You are the same goddamn person.”

That caught Alistair off guard as he suddenly looked at Corren like he had two heads “… Who’s the same?”

“Uh-” He shook his head, embarrassed that he actually said that out loud “Nothing, don’t worry about it.” … Maybe a quick subject change would help, “Well, we could stay here a while longer… but the group might start thinking we’re dead. I mean, unless you want Lautrek to be appointed the new leader in your absence…”

Alistair quickly shut the book, panic setting on his expression “Uh, you know what? Maybe we should head back now. Don’t want to scare the others, haha!”

Corren just smirked. It was too easy sometimes. He opened the door back to the Material Plane, letting Alistair exit before Corren followed suit.

They landed right where they left, only the forest around them was charred completely, some branches and trunks still in flames from the fiery breath attack they barely avoided. The good news, though, was that the dragon was nowhere in sight, so they were safe for the time being.

“Wow.” Alistair remarked, scuffing his boot along the dead grass beneath them “We totally would’ve died if we got hit by that.”

“Oh yes.” Corren nodded in agreement, stretching his back lazily “I would’ve died in an instant, but you? Probably would’ve been a long, agonizing death. You would’ve wished you had low health like me. Like your blood would start to-”

“Ooookay kid, I know you’re a little bit Necromancer, but I need you to dial it down on going into detail over how I would burn to death.” Alistair patted Corren on the back, putting just enough force behind his hits for the Marelienth to get the not-so-passive aggressive message… But then a swift look of fear fell over his expression “Uh, Corren?”

“Yeah?”

“So that dragon was chasing us, so we knew our teammates would be safe?”

“Uh… yes?” He raised an eyebrow, unsure of where Alistair was going with this.

“And if we chose to hide so the dragon would eventually leave…”

Oh no. Corren was starting to get an idea where he was going with this.

“… What’s to say that Dragon didn’t go back to attacking everyone else after we disappeared?” Alistair slowly turned to share that look of horrified realization with the other.

… Oh, fuck.

“I don’t think we thought this through.” Alistair quickly readied his Halberd, looking back to where they came from.

“Thought this through?! I saved our lives!” Corren huffed, pulling out the sniper that was strapped to his back. “Guess we gotta save a few more, greeaat!”

Alistair smirked a little, pulling a health potion from his pocket and quickly chugging it down. “So, starting to regret crossing paths and joining us yet~?”

He scoffed, brushing a stray lock of hair from his face “Aw, cute. Don’t think you’re getting rid of me that easily, Stormcrown.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Hartwell.”

[scaredandbored]

.ok i caved and wrote spones. academy au spones. with a really, horribly out of character spock. was this purely self-indulgent? yes. i’m not even 100% sure what im doing with this story, only that its spones, they share a dorm, and its going to be a gross, borderline self-insert fic lmaoooo. playing fast and loose with the academy’s curriculum because i’m a lazy piece of shit who won’t research the actual structure. also, idk if it even counts as slash, because it contains what i consider flirting, which is ACTUALLY just bickering and academic/scientific discussion combined with gentle physical contact. let me have this. 

additional note : i snuck in some pining at the end! so it’s definitely romantic! ha! (it’s not worth it dont bother)

additional additional note : i fucked up a perfectly good spones fic by trying to add jim but it turned into McSpirk 

Collectors poke and scalpels ring

(title from billy corgan’s poem “a wax seal”)

warnings : don’t read this spock is so badly written in it.

                 blatant abuse of the comma, oxford and otherwise

                 someone gets burnt but it’s not severe and it’s off of tea 

                 cursing. a lot of it. 

words : c.6’000 (i’ll count properly tomorrow, it’s hard to get a word count on mobile)

If Leonard was being completely honest with himself (which he tried to be, dammit), his studying had stopped being productive at some stage between midnight and one a.m, but he’d be damned if he was going to grant his smug-enough-already roommate an “I told you so” by going to bed. Not that Spock would use such colloquial, illogical language. Resisting the urge to groan, Leonard let his head fall to his desk, confident the pile of pages he had accumulated while studying for his assessment in Standard Procedures in Classifying Non-Humanoid Life-Forms would muffle the thud enough to prevent upsetting his roommate’s meditation in the bedroom next to his. Walls were thin at the academy, that was the whole reason he’d had to turn down Jim when he’d requested Leonard to bunk with him for their second year in the academy. Bones loved the kid, he really did, but if he wasn’t blasting his frankly awful study music through the whole night, he had someone over from wherever he’d been that evening, and Bones had come to learn (quickly, and unwillingly), that Jim was loud in bed.

Making the decision to go make a coffee (not with one of those godawful replicators, but with some decent coffee beans that his younger sister had brought as a present on his birthday, for which he’d had to actually purchase a grinder and coffee press for afterwards, but it was the thought that counts), Bones couldn’t help but miss the all-nighters he and Jim used to pull together in their previous year at the academy, using each other to keep awake and motivated. The kid’s taste in classical music left much to be desired, but he didn’t seem to mind Bones’s preferences, so they’d throw on the med student’s study playlist on Jim’s maybe-technically-banned-but-no-one-is-going-to-snitch-on-us-because-we-all-have-one-Bones-relax speaker and bounce flash cards off of each other, explaining things to one another, and sharing notes. Jim had always been very much an aural-oral learner, unable to retain information unless he had explained it to someone, or had it explained to him, and while Bones definitely did not mind helping his friend out, he’d always been a more individual learner, preferring to take his notes and summarise them, re-writing the most important points until he had them ingrained in his subconscious. Which was all well and good, except it was a pain in the ass of a technique that only became more frustrating when it was employed in a long night of cramming.

Quietly, Bones took his mug as well as the rest of the required paraphernalia from the almost-bare shelf in the equally almost-bare cupboard he and Spock had voted to dedicate to Bones’s “illogical need to entertain guests with a strange variety of baked goods paired with one of two hot beverages” and Spock’s “ostentatious pots and probably poisonous concoctions”, all while chiding himself for reminiscing about study sessions. Of all the stupid shit he could reminisce about at the ripe age of twenty-two, study sessions with a friend he could easily invite over to join him was probably the one of the most stupid. Bones was forced to pause and evaluate his situation as he realised that all his quiet tip-toeing about in an effort to leave Spock’s meditation undisturbed was probably null and fucking void, seeing as he had to manually grind the coffee beans, which would indubitably create enough noise to irritate those over-sensitive ears. Not that the vulcan could feel irritation. Fucking asshole.

Rolling his eyes at his own cankerous mood, he began to prepare his coffee, keeping half an ear on the sudden rustling noises from Spock’s bedroom as the disturbed vulcan did god-knows-what before coming out to lecture Leonard. Or to glare at him. Or condescend him. Maybe criticise him on how late he’d left it to study for this godforsaken exam. Or maybe Leonard was projecting onto his poor roommate, who he’d only known for the better half of a month. (During which, the cranky bastard side of his brain argued, said roommate had made his distaste for human culture and illogic clear, his particular dislike (it was dislike, regardless of whatever “vulcans don’t feel” bullshit he was trying to pull) of Leonard thinly veiled, and his disinclination to speak to Leonard in general blatantly obvious.) Most likely Spock would simply head into their shared living area to procure a cup of his noxious evening teas before returning to his meditation, not stooping so low as to acknowledge the source of the disruption to his nightly routine. Leonard’s mission to caffeinate himself was not under threat. It took more energy than Leonard would ever admit to quell the disappointment that bubbled up at the thought of Spock just ignoring him.

It was stupid-o-clock in the morning, of course the vulcan wasn’t going to engage in a full-blown academic conversation with him, what was he thinking? Bones haphazardly plopped the filter over his mug just as the kettle came to a boil, doggedly ignoring the squeak of Spock’s door and the sound of his bare feet against their tile floor.

“It is not recommended for humans to ingest beverages of such a high caffeine content at this hour.” Spock’s voice breaking the eerie silence of the late hour was enough to make Leonard’s usually still hands jerk, splashing his knuckles with the hot water. He managed to suppress a hiss of pain, determined not to let the vulcan see any weakness.

“It’s not generally recommended amongst humans to get your medical degree at Starfleet Academy, yet here I am, Spock.” Griped Bones, turning to face Spock with his mug in hand, the eye contact he made intended as a challenge. Try and stop me, Pointy.

Spock raised an eyebrow, which alerted Leonard to the vulcan’s significantly slower than normal movements. The damn vulcan was sleepy, he realised. In an infuriatingly adorable way, Spock blinked slowly twice before responding, a significant delay in his usual response times to Leonard’s taunts. “On the contrary, an education in Starfleet Academy is highly coveted amongst humans; its expansive curriculum makes its graduates highly sought after in careers outside of the academy. I see no logic in your statement.”

Bones rolled his eyes, knocking back half his coffee in a matter of seconds, and burning his tongue in the process. “I don’t see the logic in continuing to hold conversations with an individual you find so distastefully illogical, Mr.Spock.” He passed the strange traditional vulcan teapot out to his roommate along with the decidedly terran-style mug Spock seemed to prefer using.

Spock offered three more of his slow, dazed blinks before responding with a tilt of his head that was slightly more pronounced than the one he tended to make during the day. “Distasteful? I do not believe I have ever said as much, McCoy.”

Bones gave a single, barking laugh, shaking his head as he began to move back towards his bedroom. “Careful, Mr.Spock. Keep up the flattery and you might say something you regret.”

“You are studying?” Spock called after him, just as Leonard was closing his door.

Leonard watched Spock as he shuffled around their kitchen, preparing his tea, his normally purposefully brisk steps reduced to a half-asleep stumble. His roommate gave no indication of having spoken to him. “In my usual, time-consuming way. Yes I am, Mr.Spock.”

Spock did not face him, but the delay in his response was still significant, for the vulcan, “You study using this highly inefficient method only when learning independently, correct?”

“What is it you’re getting at? There’s only so many hours in a night, and some of us have work to do.” Growled Leonard, his prolonged view of the back of Spock’s house robes frustrating him. Their arguments were much less entertaining and all the more aggravating when he couldn’t look Spock in the eye. Spock attempted to answer while turning to face Leonard in his sleepy daze, forgetting that he was halfway through pouring the boiling water over the strainer, effectively dousing his front in the scalding liquid. There was a brief pause where Spock blinked down at the front of his robes, while Bones processed what had just happened before jerking into action. “Get that glorified dressing gown off of yourself, Spock!” He whisper-shouted, determined not to wake the entire residential block. Spock just blinked at himself, then at Leonard.

“It is burning.” He deadpanned, prompting Bones to roll his eyes and cross the room in a few quick strides.

“It’s boiling water, Spock, of course it’s burning.” He hissed tapping the lapels of the robes. “You need to get out of this so we can get you under some running, room temperature water, try and stop any blistering.” Spock finally seemed to register what was going on and began to unwrap the ties of the robes, turning away from Leonard as he did so. Leonard noticed his roommate look uneasy at the prospect of being shirtless around him, and decided to leave him to it. “I’ll go run the shower, you dry yourself off a bit and run any part of your arm that got caught in the stream under the tap. I’ll call you when the shower’s the right temperature, ok?”. Leonard waited for Spock’s nod before bolting off to their shared bathroom to start working. 

So much for his productive night studying. It was starting to look like he’d be playing nurse for Spock until the on-campus medbay opened at five am. He was just beginning to realise exactly how fucked he was for the exam the following day when the door to their bathroom creaked open slowly. “Nearly there, Spock. I don’t recommend using any of your pungent herbal shit, we don’t want anything getting into any burst blisters or anything.” 

“Your alarm is unwarranted, Leonard. There is no lasting damage done to my person.”

“Congratulations on your medical degree, Spock, didn’t realised you’d discovered a fast track. Y’could’ve told me.” Leonard drawled, not taking his eyes off of the shower, his wrist under the stream of water to monitor the temperature. 

“You know I have done no such thing.” Spock huffed, his less alert state loosening his restraint enough to allow for such blatant emotionalism. 

“Sarcasm, Spock. Somethin’ you’re gonna have to get used to if you plan on launching into the void canned in with a bunch of humans once we graduate.” Leonard was angling for a mild version of their normally acerbic exchanges, but Spock didn’t seem willing to take the bait.

“If you insist I must bathe in tepid water, I will comply, but I trust you understand the state of my health is my concern alone, and you have no power to forbid me from assisting you with your studies.”

“Bold of you to assume I want your assistance.” His final attempt to goad Spock fell just as flat as his others, and he gave a defeated sigh. “Please stay in until your skin’s returned to its normal complexion, alright?”

Spock gave a half nod and stood to the side to let Leonard pass out of the bathroom, which he did a mite faster than was strictly necessary. Sighing as Spock closed the door, Leonard began weighing the benefit of trying to study against the fact he was just worried enough to be distracted from anything too difficult. Leonard scoffed. “Who am I kidding, everything in this module is difficult enough to make me want to rip my fucking eyes out.” He continued grumbling incoherently as he made his way back to his room, throwing a dirty look at the mess of teapots, mugs, and cafetieres as he walked past it. Spock would have a hissy fit. Or, the closest thing the teachings of Surak would allow to a hissy fit. “Goddamn, green-blooded, neat-freak.” Leonard groused, frowning at the state of his room.

Leonard often consoled himself for his lack of cleanliness within the confines of his bedroom using the fact he very rarely sullied shared living areas. He liked to think of his room as a sort of nesting area; cluttered, but cosy and homely. Spock thought the state of his room was indicative of his disorganised mind and illogical outlook on life. He looked around his room, trying to decide how to partially tidy it most effectively before Spock got out of the shower. 

Ultimately, he decided to leave anything that could be passed off as studying material (including, but not limited to the notes Jim had left behind on Starfleet-approved mixed martial arts) and to gather all clothing into one pile behind the door. He had just finished that and was contemplating moving some of the collection of unwashed, half-empty mugs he’d forgotten about into the sink when someone cleared their throat at the threshold of the door, causing Leonard to jump. “Goddammit, Spock, y’could’ve killed me!” He snapped, subtly kicking the sleeve of one of his hoodies behind the door. 

Spock’s eyes followed his foot as he attempted this subterfuge, which lead him directly to the pile of clothes. He raised an eyebrow, looking back at Leonard. “I was unaware the human heart was so poorly designed that even one belonging to a relatively fit for duty, young man was susceptible to cardiac arrest caused by unpredictable scenarios. It leads me to wonder why Starfleet consists mostly of such an inept species.”

The adorable, sleepy Spock had disappeared, leaving the sharper, more alert, more dangerously attractive Spock that Bones was going to have a hard time not coming onto over the next year. “I think I preferred you when y’couldn’t string together a sentence.”   

Spock’s eyes narrowed infinitesimally as he stepped purposefully towards Leonard’s desk. “You are hardly the image of a functioning officer after your rest cycle has been disrupted, McCoy.” He quipped, pouring over the notes Leonard had been working on before the whole tea-spilling fiasco. “You have been repeatedly transcribing the same five notes for upwards of an hour, if you maintained a constant rate of words per minute.” 

Leonard shrugged, striding over to his desk to snatch the notes back defensively. “What of it?” He snapped, picking up his pad of paper (not good for the environment, but he’d loaned his PADD that he usually used for revision to Jim a week ago and wasn’t due to get it back until that weekend) and old-fashioned pen that used to belong to his mother. 

Spock raised an eyebrow at Leonard’s odd behaviour, picking up the textbook that had started to slip down the back of the overcrowded desk to leaf through it. “It is a highly inefficient method of study. Particularly given your current time constraints.” 

“Spare me the lecture, Spock. It works, and that’s all that matters.” Leonard drawled, having already resumed his scribbling, desperately attempting to commit one of the longer definitions required for the exam to memory. 

“That statement has no grounds in fact, nor does your extension based on the untruth follow any semblance of logic.”

Leonard uttered a string of curses in his native tongue, making Spock consider taking Earth English classes on the side, if only to aggravate the med student in his own native tongue. Not that Spock would ever admit to such irrational motivations.  “Dammit, Spock,” Leonard’s familiar growls in Standard had less venom than they usually did this early in their verbal sparring, a fact that drew Spock’s concern sharply onto the med student. “,either sit down and help a guy out, or get out and let me be. Ain’t that hard.” Spock eased himself down onto the human’s bed carefully, sitting cross-legged beside him with the textbook balanced carefully on his knee.

“I have heard you listening to music whilst studying on previous occasions. I have noted you do not tend to do so while I am meditating, however, I am doing so now. If it assists you, I would recommend you indulge.” Carefully watching the human for signs of distress while he spoke, Spock decided another snip at him would not hurt him. “Your human focus is dismal enough without depriving it of the stimulus necessary for it to operate at an acceptable level of efficiency.”

Spock watched with mild satisfaction as Leonard threw his archaic study materials down in a small rage, his eyebrows practically dancing as he spluttered furiously for exactly 3.2 seconds before responding coherently. “Why, you listen here, you green-blooded son-of-a-bitch, y’ain’t doin’ much good in this here bedroom, so you’ve got about three seconds ‘fore i throw you out!”

Spock unfurled himself and stood, but he didn’t make a move for the door. Instead, the stoic bastard moved back to Leonard’s desk, sorting papers into piles as he systemically searched the surface for something. Finally, he picked up Leonard’s music device: a miniature PADD his younger sister had constructed for her first set of practical engineering exams, programmed to run audio files only. “A’ight, give it here.” Leonard stretched out his hand, palm up, waiting for Spock to hand it over. Spock took a moment to briefly page through the audio files Leonard had equipped the tiny device with, the corners of his mouth turning down fractionally. “Somethin’ the matter, Spock?”

“I was under the impression that humans preferred to listen to classical music whilst studying?”

“That is classical, Spock.”

“I do not recognise it.”

Spock looked up just in time to watch the furrows between Leonard’s brows deepening. “Well, it’s classical, terran music, not vulcan, so I don’t suspect y’would.”

Without thinking, Spock said, “My mother made sure I was acquainted with many kinds of classical terran music as a child. I expected to recognise at least one of these songs from the information she provided me with.”

“Your mother liked terran music?”

Spock didn’t even pause to consider the trust required for him to offer an insight into his personal history. He just did. “My mother was human. I am only half-vulcan.”

“Might be half-vulcan, but you’re still a whole pain in the ass.” The rapidity of Leonard’s answer set Spock totally at ease, and the vulcan allowed himself to relax slightly in the presence of the human. “Y’still’ve done absolutely fuck all to help me, and I really do need to study. Y’can stay if y’want, but I can’t be shootin’ the breeze with you all night, y’hear?”. Spock’s look of confusion at the idiom was enough to send Leonard back on the defensive, and he was about to launch into a strong verbal eviction from his room when something almost-but-not-quite-clear quickly swept over Spock’s eyeballs. “What in the fucking HELL was that!” He shrieked, immediately grabbing his training tricorder from under his bed and scanning Spock, studies forgotten.

Spock’s alarm was only notable in his shoulders, which tensed as Leonard crowed into his personal space to a degree that would’ve been considered improper on Vulcan. Spock did not make any movement to rectify this situation. “McCoy?”. Leonard was muttering to himself as he scanned Spock for a third time. “Leonard?”

“What was that, Spock?”

“I am unclear on what it is exactly you are referring to.” Spock maintained solid eye contact with the Leonard, concern for the human’s mental well-being bubbling under his cool exterior. Leonard blinked, twice, incredulously, before putting his hand on the junction between Spock’s neck and shoulder, which was covered by his turtleneck. He looked at though he was going to say something before he went extremely pale and spluttered incoherently for a few moments before beginning anew with his tricorder scans. “Leonard?” 

“Spock, something’s happening to your eyes.” He growled in response, pressing at the junction where his hand rested. “Turn your head, I want to scan it from another angle. Do you feel dizzy, nauseous, anything out of the ordinary?” 

“Nothing. The level of confusion I am experiencing is within normal parameters for my interactions with you.” Spock felt a wave on content pass over him when McCoy stopped scanning for a second to glare at him, before shaking his head and resuming his activities.

After a few minutes, he withdrew the scanner, dragging a hand down his face. “Spock, I don’t suppose vulcans happen to have a second pair of eyelids, do they?” 

“Have your anatomy classes failed to cover that of vulcans?” Spock narrowed his eyes, deflecting from the fact that he didn’t actually know if the second eyelid was still a functioning part of vulcan biology. He’d learnt about it as a vestigial organ, but his hybrid nature had fascinated many scientists back home. One of the reasons he had decided to leave for Starfleet; Spock had hoped to avoid the invasive poking and prodding done in the name of research. That being said, the soft poking sensation of Leonard’s fingers through his shirt was far from uncomfortable, and Spock felt strange when the sensation stopped. 

“We do, but the piss-poor files the VSA are willing to relinquish to us mere humans are so fucking full of redaction and contradiction that all we’ve left to work with are a few vague diagrams and thoughouly unhelpful paragraphs on the composition of vulcan blood.” Leonard took a step back from Spock, restoring the traditional respectful distance between them. Much too distant for Spock’s liking. “You’re sure you’re not going to die in the next few hours until we can get you to the sickbay tomorrow?”

“I do not need-”

“Spock, you’ve not only burnt yourself-”

“It is superficial at most, and does not require-”

“-but you’ve just discovered what might maybe be an eyelid but could equally -for all we know- be-”

“-medical attention. Your anxiety is unwarranted and your focus on your studies has waned to what could prove to be a detrimental degree if you do not-”

“-a malignant growth of some sort, you have to go to find out if that thing is hurting you or not at least-”

“-cease your illogical fussing and resume.”

“-and I- Spock are you even listening to me?” Leonard’s gradually increasing volume finally peaked out, and Spock raised an eyebrow at the outburst. “Ah. shit, the neighbours.” 

“At this hour, we can hope they are in a deep enough sleep not to have heard-”

“Are you kidding me Spock, I practically screamed-”

“If we continue in this vein, you will lose what little volume control you posses. Please sit down once again and I shall try and gauge how much you have prepared for this test already and we shall start from there.” Spock’s eyebrow lowered itself slowly as he relaxed once more, Leonard sitting down on the bed close to the headboard, making it easy for Spock to sit relatively close to him without making it look like anything but a logical decision for optimum viewing of the human’s notes. Not that it wasn’t motivated by logic. The fact his side was pressed soothingly to Leonard’s was a pleasant bonus. “That eyelid thing is a bit strange, you’re sure it doesn’t hurt?”

Spock levelled him with a flat stare. “I shall visit the nurse tomorrow if you cease this discussion.”

Leonard shrugged and dropped his head down and began working on a list of things he felt confident on for the next day in an attempt to hide his smug smile. It didn’t work, but Spock didn’t say anything. 

A few hours later, they had taken a break from Spock’s relentless verbal assessments for Leonard to give his brain a chance to process the points they had been drilling and for Spock to asses the data he had collected on Leonard’s rate of retention of information to try and streamline their next bout. Except Leonard’s head had dropped onto Spock’s shoulder, and the heat from where their sides were pressed tightly together was relaxing Spock into a borderline meditative state. It was only when his chest started to vibrate lightly when Spock snapped himself back to reality, confident he had not woken his study mate with his unfortunate vulcan habit. Hubris was not a trait vulcans were capable of possessing, so Spock classed his slide in judgement as a calculation error, not as a result of unfounded pride.

“Were’y’... purrin’, Spock?” The human’s voice was muffled by Spock’s turtleneck, so the flush high on the his cheeks went unnoticed by Leonard. 

“It is... an unfortunate, involuntary response of Vulcans.” Was Spock’s clipped answer, suddenly awake and almost frantically pouring over the notes he had made on Leonard’s progress. 

“Mmm, sounds like more of y’all’s goddamn cagey nature. Outta be somethin’ your doctor outta know.” Leonard slowly picked himself up off of Spock’s shoulder. Spock felt irrationally irate at the loss of contact, despite the fact their sides remained pressed together. “Ah, shit. How long was I out?”

“Twelve minutes.” Was Spock’s response, glad to have moved on from his embarrassing lapse in control. Leonard’s response wasn’t forthcoming, so Spock chanced a glance at his roommate, only to find his mouth wide open, eyes closed, and seemingly struggling for breath. Spock’s basic first aid training kicked in, fully aware that humans, much like vulcans, required a constant supply of oxygen, and he began to thump at Leonard’s back, the angle much too awkward for him to apply the force necessary to dislodge whatever may have been blocking the med student’s airways. Except, the med student seemed to have cleared his airways on his own. And was using his perfectly clear airways to yell at Spock.

“The hell’re you doin’? Coulda seriously hurt me with that goddamn “superior vulcan strength” you won’t shut up about! Ain’t a fella allowed t’yawn in his own damn bedroom?”

Spock quickly stood up from the bed, and Leonard watched as the relaxed stance the vulcan had had previously completely vanished. “You appeared to be in respiratory distress. The training I have thus far received in first aid on humans required the first thing to do in such a situation would be-“

“Dammit Spock, I’m a med student, I know what t’do when someone can’t fucking breathe! I, oddly enough, was breathing just fine!”

Spock’s chin lifted fractionally, the last of his near-tender demeanour hardening. “Incorrect. Your chest ceased to rise and fall regularly, you had opened your mouth for maximum oxygen intake and yet you did not inhale, and the distress weakened you insofar as you were forced to close your eyes.”

Leonard looked at him, incredulous. “I yawned.”

“I do not understand. Does this correlate with your -“

“I yawned, you thick-skulled-“ Leonard stopped and took a breath, scrubbing his face with his hand. “Don’t worry, s’just an unfortunate, involuntary response of humans.”

Spock recognised he was being quoted, but unlike previous, malicious quotations made by various humans (including this patprticular one), his roommate did not seem to be trying to get a rise out of him, so he decided to retaliate. “That is the nature of most human responses, voluntary or otherwise.”

The outraged eyebrow that was slowly creeping up Leonard’s forehead was completely undermined by the sleepy grin that was taking over his entire face. “I’m not going to get much more study for this assent done, huh?”

“Assessment?”

“Yeah, the thing we’ve been studying for.” Leonard looked confused, but Spock’s head tilt betrayed his own befuddlement. 

“You referred to it previously as an exam.” His arms crossed his chest, marring his perfect posture slightly. It looked to Leonard that, despite his confusion, his roommate was more relaxed than he had been. 

“Yeah, an exam, an assessment, no difference, is there?”

Spock would later deny the look he gave Leonard was ‘incredulous’, Leonard would exaggerate his expression into one of absolute shock when retelling the tale to Jim the following evening. “There is a considerable difference, Leonard. Considering the brevity of this particular elective, the only grade that might impact your final score will be the final examination. Assessments in such a relatively insignificant elective will not affect your final grade in any serious manner.”

“It’s a matter of pride, Spock.” Leonard smiled, shaking his head. “Gotta keep up appearances.”

Spock glowered down at his roommate, the expression so slight that Leonard didn’t notice it at all. The silence strung out for a moment longer than absolutely necessary before Spock sat down at the foot of Leonard’s bed. “Pride is illogical, McCoy.”

Leonard snorted, shaking his head. “Pride and spite are the only things that keep me going, take ‘em away and I wouldn’t do a thing.” 

He watched as Spock’s eyebrow crept upwards, his head tipping lightly towards him. “Your finger brushed my collarbone earlier, when you touched my robes.”

Leonard went a bright red, and his respiratory distress seemed genuine this time. He leapt off of the bed, putting the distance of the width of the room between them. “Fucking shit, Spock? Why didn’t y’tell me! Fucking touch-telepathy, that was probably stupidly invasive, wasn’t it? Shit, shit, shit! I’m sorry. I’m fucking dense, I thought- I don’t know what I was doing, shouldn’t’ve gone near you-”

“Calm yourself Leonard-”

“And now you’re too polite to call me out on it, goddammit, we had lectures on proper conduct with vulcans, fuck-”

“Leonard.” Spock had stood and walked over to the human. Leonard was shocked when Spock put his hand on his shoulder. “There is no offence taken, do you understand?”. Leonard seemed to have lost his voice, but nodded. “I only brought up the incident because I sensed only concern and concentration from you through the contact. There was no bitterness, no concern for your pride or reputation. You saw your patient and thought of nothing but how best to administer effective and efficient treatment.”

Leonard had not made any indication of wanting to brush off his hand, so Spock decided to return to the personal space he had occupied while Leonard had been scanning him earlier. Leonard blinked several times, eyes crossing slightly to stare at the tip of Spock’s nose, only an inch, maybe less, from his own. His mouth suddenly went dry, and he swallowed hard, once. Spock’s nose had never looked so kissable. He shook his head- not an appropriate thought to be having while Spock was, wait, what was Spock saying? Leonard could hear him speaking, but his brain wasn’t processing the words correctly. Or at all. He thought maybe he was complimenting him, or maybe trying to get Leonard to explain his dry, almost self-critical comment. Hell, Spock could be reciting Shakespeare for all Leonard knew. Or cared. The vulcan’s voice was deeper than it was normally, more like it was when he had been sleepily pouring his tea earlier, less like it had been for their shared life up until today. The vibration of this deeper voice reminded him of the purring, the utter relaxation and warmth that had accompanied those vibrations, and... and Spock was still talking and Leonard still had no idea what he was saying because his mouth was moving very nicely, had his mouth always moved that nicely?

“BONES!” That voice would pull Leonard out of any dazed stupor he could possibly fall into. That voice, with that tone always meant one of two things. Jim needed his help, or Jim had done something he needed to confess to that would probably piss Leonard off. “BONES? YOU HOME?”

Spock had somehow managed to perch himself on the edge of Leonard’s desk, textbook and notes in hand, pointedly not looking at Bones. Rolling his eyes, Leonard walked out into the living area. “What the fuck have you done, Jim?” 

“Bones!” Jim practically bounced over to the med student, which meant he’d absolutely fucked something up that was going to piss him off. Clapping his shoulder playfully, Jim used the momentum of his bounce to swing himself around Bones, heading for his room. “You’re not going to believe what a weird mix-up there’s been, man! So, look, I-why, hello, Mr.Spock!” Jim glanced over his shoulder with an “i-cannot-believe-you-got-the-hot-guy-we’ve-both-been-crushing-on-into-your-room’ look on his face, his mouth slightly open and his eyes comically large in mock disbelief. “What’s a hot guy like you doing in a dingy place like this?” He had turned his impish gaze back on Spock, gesturing vaguely around Leonard’s room as he mentioned the ‘dingy place’.

Spock’s face remained impassive, not betraying the flash of amusement he always felt when the younger human flirted blatantly with him. “Vulcans’ core temperatures are, on average, actually lower than that of humans.”

Where Leonard would’ve snapped back a witty counter attack in order to incite a fascinating debate, Jim simply leaned right into the lewd implications only he could draw from such a droll, basic fact. “Are you saying that you think Bones and I are hot, Mr.Spock?”. The man had far more confidence in his charismatic abilities than any other human Spock had seen knocking their own glasses off of their face when discussing something passionately with a lecturer.

Spock was about to fire back a response -noting in the back of his mind that of the friendships he had deliberately built with a select few humans in the hopes of appeasing his mother, the ones he had formed with Jim and Leonard, though not particularly strong yet, brought him a feeling of completion- when Leonard came into the room, red-faced and rolling his eyes. “Shut up, Jim, you’ll make him uncomfortable. Vulcans don’t flirt, that’d require expression of emotion.”

Spock raised an eyebrow at Leonard, mildly puzzled. Had Leonard not recognised their discussion before Jim had arrived for what it was? Was his respect and admiration of the medical student not clear?

“What is it you’ve done, Jim?” Bones had leaned himself against the door frame, staring fixedly at his ex-roommate, who was glancing between Spock and Bones with a shit-eating grin plastered across his face. 

“Well, I was going to apologise for a stupid thing I did, but seeing as it wound up with all three of us in a room with a bed, I’d say no apologies needed.” Jim couldn’t keep a straight face delivering that line, his flirtatious demeanour crumbling into pure giddiness. “Sorry, sorry, I’ll stop. S’just weird seeing the two of you together, it’s like you guys exist separately in my mind, and seeing you getting cosy in Bones’s room is just so wacky-“

“Jim!” Bones’s bark made Jim laugh even harder, and Spock allowed the corner of his mouth to twitch ever so slightly as Jim’s merriment grew and Leonard became more and more flustered. These humans affected Spock more than he’d care to admit, and watching them interact brought a sense of contentedness over him. “It’s fucking crazy o clock in the morning, what in the hell could’y’ve done that y’need to confess so bad?”

“Small scheduling error, Bones, no big deal! In my defence, I didn’t realise how late it is, I was reading this really cool book that Galia’s sister sent her, so far it’s been absolutely gripping, can’t put it down-“

“Jim.”

His blue eyes darted around the room nervously as he giggled anxiously. “You don’t have a test tomorrow, Bones, I do. I fucked up and logged it in the PADD you’d loaned me instead of my own PADD, so I guessed you got a reminder and I know your memory is shit outside of your studies, so I figured you’d be up cramming-“

“Jim-boy, what’d you just say? Because if you said what I think you said, I’m going to-“

“Leonard, I would not recommend engaging in a physical altercation with Jim. He has considerable more experience in such matters.”

Spock felt a shiver down his spine as Leonard’s dangerously icy glare turned on him. “Are you sayin’ y’don’t think I can take ‘im, Spock?”

“That is not what he said Bones! C’mon, how bad was it? You got to bond with your roommate, and now my two best friends are on speaking terms, at least. Sounds like a win-win to me!”

“I’m gonna need the two of y’all to get the fuck outta my room, if I’m going to get any sleep at all before tomorrow.” 

Jim’s smirk got even more mischievous, the glint in his eye almost dangerous. “Maybe we’ve planned for you to get no sleep tonight, Bones.”

“I resent your implicating me in your antics, Jim.” Spock was definitely grinning, goddammit! There’s no way a vulcan could manoeuvre their mouths any further into a vague smiling shape.

“You’re not denying it-”

“Both of y’all need to shut up and go to bed, it’s late.” Leonard groused, having had enough of Jim’s playfulness, which was a bit too much for how late it was. Also, the thoughts and feelings he was invoking in Leonard with his meaningless teasing were enough for him to overthink on for the rest of his life. Jim’s pout made Bones fully aware of just how much he wouldn’t mind kissing his best friend, which reminded him of how close he had been to doing just that to his roommate, which reminded him of how it was just his fucking luck to be attracted to the two people he most defiantly shouldn’t be attracted to. The two most unattainable people on campus. He was probably a sadist. Jim sat next to Spock on his bed, and Spock had turned to mutter something in Jim’s ear. On his bed. He was absolutely a sadist. 

“That’s a good point, Spock. I think it’ll be difficult to strong-arm him into spending more time with the two of us as well.”

Spock had the good grace to look up at Leonard with what could be interpenetrated as an apologetic expression. “Those were not my... exact words.”

“I’m a med student, not a socialite, dammit!” Jim was sitting very close to Spock, they looked so right together it was sickening, and Spock was clearly mooning over Jim, and Bones... Bones needed to sleep. Now. “I’ll come over to your place tomorrow after I get out of the labs at six, Jim. If Spock comes, he comes. I don’t care.” He did care. A lot. 

“Seeing as two of us live in these quarters, it would be more logical for us to reconvene here, would it not?” 

“Nah, Jim’s got a better replicator.”

“I’ve also got better taste in holos, so...”

“You absolutely do not-”

“I don’t think watching documentaries counts as a relaxing night in-”

“I shall be there, eighteen-hundred hours.” Spock interrupted, his expression doing nothing to ease the daydreams determinedly banging at Leonard’s subconscious as he looked between the two humans. That odd eyelid-thing slid open and shut twice, which Leonard probably shouldn’t have found cute when he didn’t know whether or not it was hurting Spock. But he did, nonetheless. 

Jim clapped Spock’s shoulder, which stopped the eyelid blinking, and resulted in a rather cat-like freezing of his entire frame. “Excellent!” Jim jumped up, bouncing out the bedroom door. “It’s a date, gentlemen!” And he was gone before Leonard’s outraged spluttering could hold him up. 

“It’s not a- dammit, we’re not- Spock-”

Spock stopped to place his hand on Leonard’s shoulder, deliberately making eye-contact. “To borrow Jim’s turn of phrase, ‘it’s a date’, Leonard.” 

And that rendered Leonard totally speechless, left staring mutely at Spock’s retreating back. What the fuck kind of emotional fuckery had he gotten himself into?  

[kim-seungmine]

a thousand chapters

title: a thousand chapters

characters: bang chan of stray kids

genres: romance (it’s cheesy sometimes so beware), angst, best friends to lovers au, idol au, idol!chan, so i attempted to write song lyrics (spoiler: maybe i suck)

warnings: language

word count: 7138 words

synopsis: bang chan writes only 3 love songs throughout his life, and all of them are for you.

a/n: this is a little bit non-linear so please pay attention whether it’s present or past! i used different types of dividers, i hope you guys understand. i have so much feelz for chan and im not sorry

Call it an exaggeration, but sitting on your couch while watching TV and munching snacks before 9PM was truly a miracle. Nothing could ever make you leave work at 5PM, but today was an exception. You made an exception. An annual prestigious music awards was held today, and while you never really paid attention to awards, you made sure you told your manager that you had to leave as soon as the sun went down.

Now the winner of the most anticipated award, Daesang, was about to be announced. Interestingly, the two groups that had the biggest potential to win—Stray Kids and ITZY—both belonged to JYP Entertainment.

“I’m sure everyone has been waiting for this category,” the male MC trailed off, causing you to bite your bottom lip in impatience. Just as the female MC opened the envelope, your door bell rang. You clicked your tongue, making time to raise the TV volume first before running to your door. A delivery man was standing there, holding a small clear case. A CD? Without at least a bubble wrap to protect it?

“Are you Y/N?” the man asked, and you nodded absent-mindedly as you took it and closed the door without saying thank you. It was rude, but you could care less since both MCs were now smiling at the camera to tease the audience.

You quickly went back to your favorite spot—on the right side of the couch—and flipped the case. A clumsily-written tracklist was taped on it, and you frowned when you noticed a short note at the bottom.

“Chan hyung will kill me for doing this but you need to know. It’s been long overdue. -Seo Changbin”

A little panicked, you opened the case to see if there was anything else, but that was it. You read the tracklist, and the title of the first song sounded painfully familiar.

“Congratulations to… Stray Kids!”

You looked up, a relieved smile plastered on your lips. The whole audience cheered and clapped as the said nine guys stood up from their seats, dumbstruck look on their faces. They walked up the stage, took the trophy, spent the first 3 minutes sobbing and hugging each other before actually delivering their speech.

Leader Bang Chan grabbed the mic, causing you to shift closer to the television. “I was just a boy who loved music. I still do, and words can’t explain how thankful I am for all of you,” he said, half-sobbing. “Winning a Daesang has always been our dream, and now that it came true, we promise we’ll become even better.”

He went on thanking a bunch of people, from his family and friends in Sydney to fellow celebrities. And then he paused, staring at the camera for a while before blinking his tears away. “And to everyone who’s supported us and made us stronger, I love you. I hope your heart is where I’ll always stay.”

You glanced down, trying to fight back your own tears.

◇─◇──◇────◇────◇────◇────◇────◇─────◇──◇─◇

(I Hope) Your Heart Is Where I Stay

“You really should go to sleep at normal hour, Chris,” you protested, sighing at the sight of Chan copying your Math homework in the speed of light. “And please do your homework before you start training.”

Chan dropped his pen as he wrote down the last number, pouting at you. “We finish school at 3. I go to the company right away. I have lessons until 10. I have dinner at 11. Then I practice until 5 in the morning. I shower, get ready, then meet you at the bus stop at 6. Tell me where I should squish in ‘working on homeworks.’ “

“Why do you go to school, then? You don’t even bother to make time to do school stuffs,” you fired back, not wanting to admit that Chan did have a packed schedule. Your best friend said nothing, only sliding your notebook back to you.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized. “I didn’t mean to say it like that.”

You poked at his dimples when he didn’t respond, scooting closer to examine his face. “You’re such a baby, Bang Chan,” you commented before walking back to your seat. Chan shifted his gaze to you before breaking into a satisfied smirk. “I am, yet you’re still here.”

You had to stop yourself from blushing, but he was right.

-

“Catch a movie with me?” Chan is standing in front of you, slinging his backpack over one shoulder while you were zipping yours. “Don’t you have to be at the company soon?” you questioned, eyeing him from head to toe. After your “fight” this morning, Chan was even more smiley and energetic than usual. And more touchy. He was touchy to begin with, but never this much. Whether you hated it or not, you actually weren’t sure.

“I can call in sick,” he sing-sang, waving at several of your classmates. “You live in the dorm, for Christ sake,” you pointed out, but he only raised his eyebrows at you. “I have my ways, don’t worry. Jisung will cover for me.”

You met Jisung once. And Changbin. The three of them trained together and planned to release mixtapes under the name of 3RACHA, like the sauce. You kept laughing at Chan after you first heard the name, but after listening to their songs you decided that it was a suitable name for them.

Chan took your hand in his and led you out, not bothering to wait for your answer. He didn’t let go even after you got to the bus stop; he smiled at you instead as he caressed your fingers with his thumb. You didn’t have the heart to pull your hand away, but you knew you were secretly enjoying this. To be honest, nothing stressed you out more than your “friendship” with Chan thesedays. All you needed was one chance to ask if he was doing this on purpose or you were the one reading it wrong.

But, should you even try? Chan had been training for years—this year would be his seventh year—and the company loved him. They would definitely debut him and soon he would forget you. He would find you holding him back, and you didn’t want that.

You wanted to be Chan’s sweetest high school memory. Just a memory was enough, as long as he would smile when he thought of you.

The bus had arrived, and you let Chan pulled you inside. He tapped his metro card twice before you could stop him, chuckling as you let out a surprised “Yah!”

“What do you want for dinner?” he asked the second you sat down.

“Chan, we haven’t even chosen the movie we’re gonna watch yet.”

“I know. I’m just excited.”

You wanted to ask why, but then Chan was laughing and it was one of the most contagious things in the whole world. His hold on your hand grew tighter, to the point that it was impossible to move your hand, but you felt content. Whenever Chan was around, you always felt content and loved (you would never tell him this part, but that was the fact.)

You wondered if he ever felt the same.

-

“Are you still crying?”

Chan wiped your tears with his hand as you pouted at the blank screen. Both of you chose to watch La La Land and while the movie was wonderful, it was also realistically painful that you were unable to stop your tears.

“I feel so betrayed,” you croaked, letting Chan pull you up. “But you love movies with realistic endings. You love to suffer,” he said.

You did. You would rather weep than watch the main characters be “forced” into a happy ending. This time, though, you actually rooted for the main characters; you felt their longing for each other, you felt their love and respect for each other, and you felt their connected dreams although those ended up being the reason why they didn’t work out.

“You’re adorable,” Chan commented, the words rolled out of his mouth so naturally as if he said that everyday. You rolled your eyes at him, pretending that it didn’t make you feel giddy inside. He kept humming to City of Stars on the way home, casually linking your pinkies together.

“Christopher Bang Chan.”

“What?”

“You just missed your bus stop.”

“I’m walking you home.”

“Why?”

“Are you really asking that question?”

“You skipped practice today. What’s wrong?”

Chan stopped on his tracks, sighing as you released your pinky from his. “I’ve been meaning to ask you the same thing,” he confessed. “You seem… distracted. And so distant from me. Did I do something wrong?”

Uh-oh. You definitely didn’t expect that.

“Nothing. It’s just—”

The two of you had been friends since Chan moved back to Seoul from Sydney a few years back. At first, it was purely because you spoke English well, but Chan never left your side even after he got used to living in Korea on his own.

Things were chill until recently, when you noticed that Chan started treating you differently. He would smile at every silly thing you said, held your hand in front of everybody, or called you at night only because he wanted you to keep him company.

“What are we, Chan? I can’t help but feeling confused because you’re being like… this.”

Chan furrowed his eyebrows, cupping your face so he could look into your eyes. “Like what?”

You eyed his hands that were on your cheeks before removing them. “Like this. I don’t want to misinterpret any signal, Chan,” you mumbled. “If there’s any signal at all.”

“My goodness,” he gasped, pulling you into a bear hug you always enjoyed. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“You’re doing it now, Chris.”

He chuckled, squishing you into his chest. “I didn’t intend to send signals, but I guess I’ve been like this because I,” he takes a deep breath, “like you. Like, like you. As more than a friend.”

Chan tried to pull away to see your response, but you circled your arms around his torso instead, not wanting him to see your reddening cheeks. “You could’ve just said so, dummy. I thought you were just playing with me.”

“I know. I’m sorry,” he answered, placing his chin on top of your head. “I really didn’t know how to say it. I didn’t want you to feel awkward around me.”

“Too late for that. I don’t think I can ever look at you again now,” you groaned, your heart swelling with happiness when his laugh rumbled through his chest.

Chan gripped your arms, pulling away to grin at you and now you realized why you were being unusually sad over a movie’s ending.

Bang Chan was Mia, someone so endearing and inspiring and strong and talented and it was only a matter of time before the world knew what he was worth of. You, meanwhile, had a simple dream like Sebastian’s and just wanted to do your own thing, slowly realizing that you and Chan were living on a borrowed time.

But your best friend was looking at you like you were the only one who could make him happy and it was hard to resist. Chan could ask you to marry him right here, right now, and you would say yes. He might not be your first crush, but you were pretty sure that he was your first love. You wanted him—every inch of his heart—and he was offering exactly that to you.

“You’re not just gonna pretend that this never happens tomorrow, right?” you whispered as Chan cupped your face once again. He smiled when he felt that you were anticipating his next move, before brushing his lips against your temple. It was sweet and soft, but it ended too quickly and you wanted more.

You tried not to pout; the disappointment in your eyes was so obvious it made Chan chuckle. “You’re so whipped for me, how am I supposed to pretend that this never happens?” he teased, placing another kiss on your cheek.

“Wow I hate you.”

“Hate you more, babe.”

-

One of Chan’s trainee friends, Yang Jeongin, celebrated his birthday today. Jeongin had invited you over for dinner with the rest of the boys. You almost said no, but he sounded so convincing on the phone, saying that everyone was dying to meet you. Chan had also been begging you to finally come over and meet the other boys.

“I don’t know, Chan. I’m not even a trainee, and you’re not even supposed to be dating. How can I just show up?”

“Everybody dates, Y/N. Don’t be so naïve,” he replied, wrapping his arm around your shoulders as you were nearing the building. You sighed, glancing at Chan who was now humming a song you never heard before. When your eyes landed on his lips, you were forced to remember the fact that Chan hadn’t kissed you yet. Well, he kissed your cheeks, your nose, your temple, your forehead, your jaw… pretty much everywhere but your lips.

You felt ashamed at yourself for even thinking about wanting to be kissed. It was beyond stupid, and you knew you couldn’t possibly measure Chan’s love for you with something as insignificant as a kiss, but you were starting to question his sincerity. Was he really serious with you? Or were you just someone he kept because he was lonely or something?

“We’re here!” your boyfriend exclaimed, entering the password quickly. He pushed the door open, and soon eight pairs of eyes fixated their gazes on you. “Hi.” You waved at them, trying not to frown at the burning smell that greeted you the moment you stepped inside.

However, Chan beat you to it. “What did you guys burn?” he panicked, patting your head before running to the kitchen. The boys then proceeded to attack with you with questions (and thankfully, compliments), which you tried your best to answer.

You recognized Jeongin standing at the back, yelling at his hyungs to “stop harassing Y/N they’re my guest!”

Kim Woojin, whom Chan always ate fried chicken with every week, gave you an apologetic smile as the birthday boy walked past him. “Jeongin really wants to meet you,” he noted as Jeongin shook your hand with absolute excitement. “Christopher Bang is all giggles everytime he talks about you. Of course I have to meet you!”

“Is that a compliment?” you asked, liking him already. Changbin laughed, gesturing at you to sit on the couch while Chan was screaming in the background (“WHY DID YOU GUYS EVEN BOTHER MAKING BOILED EGGS IF YOU’RE JUST GONNA LEAVE THEM LIKE THIS!”).

Chan returned to the living room with a pot of burned boiled eggs and a pan of seemingly undercooked spaghetti. “Ah, sorry!” Seungmin yelled as soon as he spotted the eggs. “I was the one boiling them but then Y/N arrived and I got distracted.”

“Don’t use my Y/N as an excuse!” the older boy warned, causing everyone—including you—to cringe. Jisung passed you a plate for the spaghetti, which you politely declined. “Hyung, have you told them about our debut plans?”

You widened your eyes at Chan who looked as if he got caught red handed. It was such an incredible news, you didn’t understand why he was trying to hide it from you. Before anyone could throw in some awkward jokes to lessen the tension, Felix and Minho brought a huge cake into the living room, singing the Happy Birthday song. The others followed suit, showering Jeongin with bear hugs (Changbin tried to kiss him) tickles.

You watched the adorable chaos upon you, trying to memorize every little detail because everything would change soon. Chan seemed to notice the look in your eyes as he sprinted to you and dragged you out of the living room. He stopped in front of his room, placing his hands on your shoulders.

“Today is Jeongin’s birthday, but I also have something for you,” he whispered. He pushed you inside the room, trying to make you sit on his bed but you became too excited to listen to him.

“I think you need a new pop filter, Chan. I’m going to buy it for you,” you said, chuckling at his Dragon Ball figurines on the shelf. You noticed a jewelry box on his desk, a framed photo of you smiling at the camera was placed on top of it.

You opened it, and found all of the things you had given him inside. Most of them were things he needed at that time: a box of band aids, a phone strap, your Sharpie, and a pair of Snoopy earrings (which he had to wear for a week after losing a bet).

“Y/N, please sit down,” Chan whined, blushing when you poked his cheek. “You made a shrine for me, I don’t know whether I should feel honored or scared.”

“I also made a song for you.”

That got your attention, so you sat down on his bed, watching Chan browsing through his phone. He kneeled down, grabbing your hands as a soft instrumental started playing. “I wanted to tell you about our debut plan, but everything still seems too good to be real and I don’t want you to be disappointed if it… you know… doesn’t happen.”

You laced your fingers with his, bending down to kiss his nose. “I’ll always be proud of you, Chan. You’re talented and the company knows it, that’s a fact,” you assured him. You remembered the time when he told you that he was going to debut years ago. It never happened, and he had to watch his close friends debuted one by one. At this point—after 7 years of training, you knew Chan was scared to even voice out his excitement to himself.

“Another reason that I planned to wait before telling you is because… I don’t want you to break up with me.”

Chan lifted his hand to caress your cheekbone, a gesture that always made your heart flutter in a hundred different ways. “That’s absurd, Chan,” you told him.

“Even now I’ve canceled many of our dates because of lessons or late night recordings with Changbin and Jisung. You don’t get enough sleep because you’re always waiting for me to finish practicing. Sometimes we barely talk at school since I always fall asleep,” he recounted. “I’m not good for you, Y/N. And I’m afraid that you’ll eventually realize how lacking I am and how you deserve to be loved by a man who can love you properly.”

You shook your head, throwing your arms around his neck. “You’re the best boyfriend I’ve ever had, Bang Chan.”

“I think that’s because I’m the only boyfriend you’ve ever had.”

“Please don’t ruin the mood.”

“Sorry.”

“My point is, we’re both trying our best and I never feel that you’re lacking. You’ve been nothing but perfect.” You pulled away, threading your hand through his curly locks. “Now where’s that song you wrote for me?”

Chan took a deep breath, reaching for his phone to replay the instrumental. “I wanted to take you somewhere nice and sing to you there. But here you are, being your beautiful, loving, witty self and I just can’t wait anymore.”

“I don’t know how to write love songs

Or if I can even call this a love song

All I know is I’m writing this for you

Pouring out feelings that feel surreal.”

You giggled, pulling Chan up so that he was lying on top of you. You heard someone knocking on the door, but neither of you moved from your position.

“But I wake up everyday and you’re still here

Walking down this dark tunnel with me

Showering me with warmth and joy like no one else

And I wonder if you feel the same

So I hope

Your heart is where I’ll always stay.”

He stopped although the music was still playing, and you didn’t know if it was because he forgot his lyrics or because that was all he could manage to say. Chan pecked your forehead softly, keeping his hand on your cheek as he pulled away.

“God I love you so much,” he whispered, his lips quivering as you let his words sink in. “Can I kiss you?”

Chan’s lips touched yours and all you could see and feel was Bang Chan and his love for you. He parted your lips with his tongue, sighing in contentment when you tugged at his hair. You pulled him closer although he was practically lying on you, trailing his hand along your spine. “Chan,” you gasped, almost forgetting what you wanted to say when he continued tugging at your bottom lip with his teeth.

“Channie,” you tried again, and this time he pulled away, chuckling at your disoriented state.

“Yeah?”

“I love you too. A lot.”

“And Chan?”

He hummed, giving you pecks all over your face as you struggled to stop giggling. “Why did you only kiss me now?”

You expected Chan to smirk at you and tease you to no end, but he only stared at you before dropping another smooch on your lips. “I didn’t want you to think that I only wanted you that way. You’re so gorgeous and precious and you chose me, I don’t want to lose you.”

“Chan hyung!” Changbin banged on the door, causing Chan to grumble. “Is my phone inside?”

“Fuck off, Changbin!” Chan yelled.

“I will! But please don’t do anything weird in there! Y/N you’re still alive, right?”

“Safe and sound, Changbin!”

“Seo Changbin, I swear to God—”

You didn’t let Chan finish as you crashed your lips on his once again, and for now you didn’t want to think about how you were running out of time, how Chan would eventually slip away from you despite saying all of those sweet words that were already engraved in your heart.

He wanted to stay in your heart, so you let him.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

If there was any other day you hated more than Monday, it would be Thursday. On Thursdays, it started to feel like the weekend, but then it wasn’t even Friday yet and everything just felt a bit more mundane and tiring. And empty.

At least on Friday you could meet up with your friends after work or drink with your co-workers. And then you could spend (at least) half of Saturday lazing around in bed before getting up to clean up your place and then binge-watch shows you missed until Sunday night.

But tonight was different.

You were lying in bed, looking at unread messages from an unknown number that you assumed to be Changbin’s. The boys had changed their phone numbers several times after debut due to some obsessive fans spamming them, but somehow all of them managed to keep yours. You always received birthday wishes from them, except for Chan who opted to send a box of dark chocolate (72% chocolate, your favorite) to your place every year. He never left any cards, and you could only guess who told him your address (if it wasn’t your brother, then you would be afraid), but you knew it was him.

Besides the annual birthday gift, you never had any contact with your ex-boyfriend for the past four years. You saw him a lot, of course. Stray Kids had their breakthrough year 1.5 years after their debut, and Chan became one of the most popular singer-songwriters in the country.

The songs in the CD, however, sounded like nothing he would ever write. You decided to take it slow, listening to one song each night.

◇─◇──◇────◇────◇────◇────◇────◇─────◇──◇─◇

The Candle I Blow Out

It was already past midnight when you opened the door for Chan, who looked like he ran the whole way to your house (he did). “You don’t have to do this,” you sighed, wiping his sweat with your hand. “We just finished filming. I’m sorry.”

“How’s Felix?” you asked, closing the door before leaning on it. It had been awhile since you last saw him and the boys; the company created a survival show for them, and you could see how it took a toll on everyone, mainly Chan. It felt weird seeing your boyfriend on television, and it felt even weirder to see people talking about him, admiring him, even hating on him. But you told yourself to get used to it, to accept the fact that nobody ever belonged to just one person. In this case, though, you had to share Chan with the whole world. Which definitely wasn’t easy at all.

“He’s doing pretty well. I think they’re considering to take both him and Minho back,” he said, and you immediately wrapped him in your arms. “I’m tired,” he added, burying his face on the crook of your neck. “I know,” you replied. “But it will end soon, and greater things are just about to start.”

Chan let out a frustrated sigh, mumbling things you were unable to hear. “Hmm?” you hummed, pulling away to see him tearing up. “Don’t cry on me, Bang Chan. You’re the leader of 8 boys and you’re doing great.”

He chuckled. “You pretending to be so tough on me. That’s hot.”

Deep down, you knew you weren’t just pretending to be tough on him. You were pretending to be tough on yourself too, trying to convince yourself that you wouldn’t be a burden for him and he would stay.

-

The melody of District 9 was still playing in your head although the boys had said goodbye and disappeared into the backstage. You stared at the empty stage in awe, reading the words “Stray Kids Unveil (Op. 01: I Am Not)” almost in disbelief. The fans around you were still busy gushing over the members, and it made you happy.

“Bang Chan is really crazy.”

“I know right? How does he do what he does?”

Hours of recording, barely sleeping, whining to you over the phone, and being so in love with what he’s doing.

“I don’t know about you guys, but he’s super hot.”

“He is! And did you pay attention to his body? It’s crazy.”

You knew you were probably supposed to leave, but you stayed, listening to them talking (sometimes screaming) about your boyfriend in a way that made you feel proud and weird. However, when they started talking about Cheongdam high school, the school you and Chan went to, you took it as a sign to leave.

“Do you have friends from Cheongdam High? Like the ones from his batch? I want to know how he was at school…”

-

channie: how is it that i arrived at your house before you did?

y/n: are you aware of how many fans you have and how hard was it to even get out of the venue

channie: oops. didnt think of that babe

y/n: you couldve asked me to drop by at your dorm, its fine

channie: you know i can’t risk that right :(

channie: pls come home soon

channie: i cant take another hour of your brother laughing at my makeup

y/n: lol deal with it

Laughters and giggles were heard as soon as you stepped inside your living room. Your parents and brother were chatting with Chan, who was still wearing his stage outfit. Now that you were looking at him up close, you realized how magical he was. “Hi,” he grinned, immediately lacing his fingers with yours.

“You should’ve seen how he tried to act cool on stage,” you told your brother as you put down a bucket of fried chicken on the table. “I heard you skipped the party with the boys?”

“Yeah, I did,” he answered distractedly, typing on his phone before dialing a number.

“Ah hyung,” he said. “Y/N just arrived and we—okay then.”

He ended the call, giving you a sad smile before standing up. “They want me back ASAP, I’m sorry. My manager is already outside.”

“It’s okay Channie, you must be tired too. Thank you for visiting us,” your mother assured him.

“Here, share with the boys. I’m sure you still have space for chicken,” you said. Chan took the bucket from you, making his way to the door.

“You did amazing today. I’m proud of you,” you whispered, ruffling his head as he chuckled. You could see fatigue and guilt in his eyes and you started to feel bad. “You’re not mad at me, are you?” he muttered.

“You just debuted. You’ve finally achieved your dream. Why would I be mad? I’m happy for you. My boyfriend is going to be a famous artist soon.”

Chan eventually left with a relieved smile on his face, but you figured it wouldn’t last long.

-

“You asked Soo to do what?”

You were walking down the street with a beanie covering half of your eyes. Chan had finished recording for a reality show, and he asked to meet you at the small coffee shop you used to go to during high school days (you were the only one who ordered though).

“I asked him to give him the spare key so I could close the shop for him.”

“Did he really agree to do this or did you—”

“He didn’t mind, Y/N. Why are you making this complicated?”

“I’m not. I just don’t want us to make other people uncomfortable.”

“We’ve known Soo since high school. He’s happy to help.”

He was right about that, so you told him you were arriving soon. You and Chan had had countless dates at Soo’s, even before you started dating officially. You made a mental note to pay visit later and thank him for trusting both of you this much. Meeting Chan had been a real challenge since the start of Stray Kids’ recent comeback. Their fandom continued to grow, and now some people started to follow the boys around during their schedule. It was only two or three people, but everyone was aware of it, especially Chan who became extremely careful (or paranoid, according to Minho).

You noticed how Chan had shut down the curtains when you got there. You slowly opened the door, and Chan’s eyes lit up when he saw you.

“Hi gorgeous.”

You scoffed at his cheesiness, but circled your arms around his neck as he pulled you close. “Dates at Soo’s, huh? Some things never change indeed.”

Chan giggled, peppering small kisses on your face. “Missed you, babe,” he sighed, tightening his hold on your waist.

“Don’t you wanna sit down?” you joked.

He shook his head. “No. I want to hold you,” he whined, pressing a more intense kiss on your lips.

“Is there any reason why you’re being this clingy?”

“Aren’t I clingy in general?”

“Chan.”

He rubbed circles on your waist. “We’ll be going on tour soon.”

You squealed and booped his nose. “That’s great! If the company gives you guys a tour then it means you’re doing well, right?”

“I guess so. The boys are excited about this, and we’ll be going to Australia soon. But Y/N—”

He paused, causing you to cup his face in worry. “What is it?”

“We’ll release the next album soon, practice for awards and year-end shows, and then practice for the tour while preparing the next album. It’ll be even harder for us to meet,” he lamented.

You tried to keep the smile on your face, but you knew he noticed the slight fear in your eyes. No matter how much you had prepared yourself for this, you weren’t ready.

But the last thing Chan needed was you being a nuisance, so you told him that it didn’t matter and spent the rest of the night catching up.

“Can I take you home?”

“You asked Soo to give you his key so we could have a private space and now you want to take me home.”

“Can I at least take you to the bus stop?”

Chan was begging with his eyes, and you instantly melted. “Okay,” you said, opening the door. He followed you, locking the door carefully before wrapping his arm around your shoulders. “Have you bought birthday presents for the babies?”

“You meant Jisung, Felix, and Seungmin?”

“Yeah, they’re—”

Both of you stopped walking as you heard the sound of shutter. Chan looked around, gripping your shoulder so tightly you nearly brushed him away. But before you could say anything, he had let you go and walked slightly in front of you.

channie: i think you have to go by yourself this time

channie: I’ll make it up to you i promise

You watched him making a turn at the corner of the street, his black hoodie becoming one with the dark sky as he quickened his pace. You glanced at your phone, hot tears falling onto the screen. What Chan did was understandable, it was a reflex. But it hurt, and you remembered the time when you thought that you and Chan were living on a borrowed time.

y/n: its okay. be safe.

Maybe your time together was up.

-

When Chan appeared at your doorstep with barely opened eyes, you just let him in without any protest. He only became more and more busy, and no matter how cheerful he appeared on cameras, days like this happened often.

“Is your brother home?” he asked, putting down a few shopping bags on your couch. You recently got a job in the central city, and you moved into your brother’s apartment so you could commute more comfortably.

“Bought him some fruits. And chocolate for you.”

You smiled, pulling out a box of dark chocolate from one of the bags. “You love me so much.”

He didn’t reply, causing you to dart your eyes to him. “What happened?”

Chan sat you down on the couch, biting his lips as you patted his biceps. “I think we should break up.”

It would be a lie if you didn’t see that coming. After both of you were supposedly photographed together two months ago, Chan changed. He was still the cheerful (but tired) and sweet Chan, but his eyes said otherwise and although he thought he hid it well from you, he didn’t.

“Alright,” was all you said.

“Babe, please don’t be like this—”

“It’s fine, Chan. I understand,” you cut him off. “I don’t want to hold you back. I don’t want to cause you more stress. If being together doesn’t make us happy anymore then there’s no point in forcing this.”

What you wanted to tell him was that you knew he was scared of losing his fans if he ever got caught dating you, but you couldn’t trust yourself to say that out loud without crying.

You loved Bang Chan, and this was the best thing you could do for him.

“You’re not holding me back. It’s just-”

“I get it. You’re too busy and everything is too risky.”

Your phone beeped, showing a message from your brother who was coming home soon. You stood up and walked to your door, Chan trailing behind you. “You should go. My brother is coming soon and God knows how many hours he’ll make you stay,” you attempted to joke. He smiled, taking your hand in his before placing a kiss on the back of your hand. He stared at you, long and intense, like he wanted to say something.

“I’m sorry.”

That was all he said.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

“Is my toothbrush there?” your brother asked over the phone. You peeked into the bathroom, spotting a toothbrush that he used.

“Yeah it’s here. Why?”

“I’m staying over at Jiyeon’s place.”

“I don’t want to sound like Mom but just… don’t get her pregnant.”

“We’re getting married, dumbass.”

“But still.”

Silence.

“I called Chan,” he confessed. “I know I probably shouldn’t have done that though. Sorry.”

You faked a laugh. “Just because we broke up doesn’t mean you two can’t talk.”

“But still.”

“It’s been four years,” you said. “It’s old story. And he won Daesang, of course you wanted to congratulate him.”

“I didn’t congratulate him,” he corrected, voice unusually calm. “I cursed him out for dating that person from Sparkle. Who was it? Kim Jiho?”

You sighed, spinning the CD in your hand. “Come on, we moved on. Plus that was like… 2 years ago?”

“Maybe he did, but you didn’t. I don’t care how many people you dated after Chan, Y/N. We know the truth.”

“Let’s talk tomorrow, I’m tired,” you sternly said, hitting the end button before your brother attacked you more.

You decided to finally open Changbin’s message, which said how sorry he was for intruding your and Chan’s privacy and for you to “please please please” let him explain. You wondered what the rest 2 songs be about for Changbin to have second thoughts.

“Fuck it,” you muttered, sliding the CD into your laptop.

The song gave off a different vibe from the first one. The first song was light and sweet, and this one felt like all of things at once, but mostly regret.

“The sun shines bright

The stars twinkle

The world welcomes me

But what am I supposed to do?

I feel colder than ever

The warm candle I lit

Is now just a memory

I wonder if it’s my fault.”

You reached for your phone on the side table, asking Changbin for Chan’s number.

“Harsh wind? Hurricane?

No

My warmth, my light, my hope

Is gone

You’re gone

You’re the candle I blow out

And it’s all my fault.”

The song slowly came to an end, but then you heard a familiar sobbing sound. It took you a good minute to realize that it was Chan’s. He kept crying and crying until someone rushed into the recording room.

“Hyung!” you heard Changbin’s voice before the audio was cut short.

You pressed stop, and for the first time since your breakup, you cried. For Chan, for yourself, for all the time you spent trying to convince yourself that you would be okay without him.

◇─◇──◇────◇────◇────◇────◇────◇─────◇──◇─◇

(Not an) Epilogue

“C-Chan?”

“Y/N?”

The moment he called your name, your defense crumbled. You started crying again, causing him to yell at the boys to shut up.

“Y/N? What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

“Yes,” you answered. “It hurts, Chan-ah.”

“Where are you? Are you home?”

You didn’t answer, but you could feel him nodding. “I’ll be there soon, okay? Have you called your brother?”

“Chan,” you sobbed. “Please.”

“I’m coming. Don’t hang up.”

So you didn’t. You heard him fumbling with his car keys before starting the engine. He didn’t ask anything throughout the journey, only occasionally telling you to wait for him. When he knocked on your door, you hesitated.

Would things really turn out the way you wanted it to be?

“What happened?” he asked as soon you opened your door. Chan ushered you inside, taking your face in his hands to press soft kisses on your eyes as if he never left. “Hey, why are you crying?”

You pointed at the CD case, which he took immediately. He read Changbin’s note before pulling you into his arms. He whispered strings of apology in your ear as you cried even harder. “I let you go, Chan. Why aren’t you happy?” you asked.

“I could ask you the same thing,” he replied. “I just didn’t want to ruin your life Y/N. I don’t want you to get hate, to have people talking shit about you. I thought it’d be better if you hated me instead of suffering because of me.”

You sighed, your tears started to subside. “I didn’t want you to lose everything you tried so hard to achieve because of me. I just want to be your sweetest memory, Chan. I—”

“I love you,” he said. “I thought I could forget you. People move on, right, so why can’t I?”

Chan rested his forehead on your shoulder, breathing you in as you put your arms around his waist. “But it’s been 4 years and at this point I can’t keep lying to you or myself.”

“If you still want me around, if you’re okay with what I’m doing, will you let me stay?” he asked, pulling away to see your reaction. You looked at him, and you saw the Bang Chan you knew. The one who loved to mess around with you but was also the one who would protect you. The one who wrote you songs he never revealed to anyone else. The one who broke your heart into pieces but willing to pierce the pieces back together.

“Why do you even bother asking?” you answered, saying every word slowly to tease him. “You never left, Chan. I guess you really stayed in my heart after all.”

He burst into a loud laugh, pressing his lips against yours. He took everything slow, like he wanted to remember how it felt when your lips molded together, how you pulled him closer when his tongue grazed your teeth, how the touch of his lips left wonderful burning sensation on your skin.

You pulled away when his phone rang, watching Chan glance at the caller before switching his phone off. “Okay. I have to be a responsible artist and a responsible, loving boyfriend. What should I do?”

You only wiggled your eyebrows at him, causing him to groan.  He took a deep breath and gripped your shoulders. “If I go back to practice then return here at 3AM, will that count?” he suggested. “Oh no, I’ll be back at 6AM. You need sleep.”

“Now that’s responsible,” you agreed, pecking his lips. “And if you want to be a loving boyfriend as well, please bring me breakfast.”

Chan sighed in relief, eyes twinkling with excitement that you never wanted to trade with anything. “Does kaya toast sound good? Seungmin is into making toasts thesedays, I can steal some.”

“Also, have you listened to all the tracks yet?”

“I still have the last track to listen to.”

“Good. Don’t listen to that. I can make you thousands other songs but please, don’t listen to that one.”

Chan gave you one last look before reaching for the doorknob. “I’ll be back.”

And it was a promise he fulfilled.

-

“I only have one more chapter to write

I don’t want this story to be over

Holding your hand, listening to your silly jokes

Lulling you to sleep, waking up to you

I still want to do all of those.

Y/N we don’t have to end like Sebastian and Mia

Can I write one more chapter?

Can I write a thousand more?

Because Channie loves you so much”

This time you didn’t press stop. You repeated the song over and over again.

 -

a/n: wow this turned out to be longer than i expected. if you get to this part, then thank you for reading! mayhaps the chan’s room series inspired this although there’s nothing about that in the story.

[itsreallylaterightnow]

When I Was Older (Irondad Fic Exchange 2019)

-Summary:

Peter Parker never thought that something like this would be a problem, he always imagined with the spider-bite came a sort of overall health and wellness... well besides being shot at constantly. So when this terrible illness bites down on him suddenly, how will it effect the few days he has left?

or

Peter Parker contracts an illness that he has never heard of then learns that it has no known cure... will he lose his mind before getting the chance to say goodbye to the ones he loves?

Notes: 

AHH! I am so ecstatic for this!! I worked so hard on this, and I am very very proud of this work and I hope that elevators_not_worthy enjoys this work! I chose her, Author's Choice prompt and came up with this guy! It was a labor of love and I cannot thank @justme--Emily  & @seek-rest enough for taking the time to Beta read this work and help me round it out!

Warnings: This is a very sad fic, but no MCD! It is disorienting and could be upsetting to people. No major panic attacks or anything of the sort, just know that it is a bit intense!

Also, shoutout to @irondad-fic-exchange for helping this writer with the computer parts of posting this (I may be a millennial and I may be on my computer all the time but Im so bad with them)

**Tags: ** @irondad-fic-exchange @unfathomable-universe

Please enjoy!

         Peter smiled at MJ across the lunch table, tossing a potato chip at her. Her hair was loose around her face today, and he thought it made her look exceptional.

“Eat your lunch, loser. We only have five minutes before class.” She said, looking back down at her book.

He glanced down at his plate, frowning at the half-eaten sandwich. He hadn’t been hungry for several days, he’d still been forcing himself to eat, but it hadn’t been much. He had hypothesized that his body was finally watering down the spider bite’s crazy side-affect that had him eating like an elephant every day.

The bell rang and the Ned, Betty, and MJ all headed in different directions. Peter waved them all off and stood up himself. His feet led him down the tiled floors of the cafeteria. He stepped into the hallway, about to head to his class. It was time for… Peter stopped, staring at the floor. What class was he going to? He racked his brain, thinking as hard as he could to no avail. He shook his head, remembering that he had read that doorways cause you to lose your train of thought. But it was March of his senior year of high school, he should remember what class came after his lunch period.

           A laugh shook him from his stupor, Olivia Yung grabbed shoved his arm, a smile on her face. “Come on, Parker! We’re going to be late to Western Civ! You don’t even have your notebook, geez! You Americans! Come on, you can borrow a piece of paper and pen from me. We have a quiz on Thursday, you better start taking some good notes!” She tugged him along, and Peter shook his head. Olivia was really nice. She was a genius Foreign exchange student and had quickly joined the Decathlon. MJ and her really got along on account of Olivia was obsessed with politics and her and Michelle could talk about current events for hours.

           Peter sat down in class, a bit shaken from the weird memory lapse thing, but he just pushed it away, and began to take good notes. Mr. Harrington wasn’t the best chaperon, but he was pretty good at teaching. So good that Peter struggled to keep up with the points the man was making about the reformation. Peter looked up at the projection and paused. There was a misspelled word on the board. He stopped, furrowing his brows. He looked around, why was no one else noticing this? The word wasn’t even a real one, why would Harrington put it up? Peter looked down at his paper, then looked back up. He dropped his pencil while he re-read the sentence. It said, “Martin Luther posted the 95 These on the Wittenberg church.” The word Peter hadn’t been able to place was _church. _How the hell had he been so confused about that? Peter shook his head. This was getting a bit too weird for his liking. But he figured he would talk to Mr. Stark about it that afternoon at the internship.

           Peter got in the car with Happy, but the man was on a business call, so he had the partition up. Peter pulled his mask out of his bag and slipped on over his head. “Hello, Mr. Parker.”

           “Hey, Karen. Weird question for you.” He said.

           “Anything that I can answer I will.” She responded.

           “Um, have I hit my head recently on patrol?” Peter leaned back and waited, already knowing the answer, but needing to double check.

           “I have no record of you hitting your head recently. I am automatically required to alert Mr. Stark of any and all head injuries upon incident. I have not alerted him in exactly three weeks, and last time you hit your head it was nothing but a migraine inducer.” Peter gnawed on his lip, trying to come up with a reason behind the strange things that had gone down earlier in his day.

           “No reason, K.” And he pulled the mask off. He hadn’t gotten much sleep that night, maybe that was it. Peter closed his eyes. With the New York traffic, they’d be at least another forty-five minutes to the tower. His last thought was _that’s just enough time to take a nap. _

           It had been three hours that Peter and Tony had been in the lab when Mr. Stark turned to Peter with a look of annoying amusement on his face.

           “Kid, you’ve been tapping your fingers on the table for the last ten minutes and if you don’t stop, I’m going to absolutely rampage.” Peter looked up, and smirked.

           “Yeah, yeah, sorry Mr. Stark.” He stopped his fingers, a bit confused as to how long he had been tapping them anyways. Truth was, Peter could care less about the work in front of him. He and Mr. Stark had been doing updates to FRIDAY, and Peter’s attention span had been waning for the last hour and a half.

           Peter rolled his neck, the muscles in his back stiff as he looked at the clock. He still had three more hours of time in here. Normally it was too short of a time with Tony in Peter’s eyes, but right now, he just wanted to lay down.

           He cried out suddenly, dropping the pen he was holding. “What the heck?” He blurted, short gasps of air coming from his mouth as his arm locked up.

           Tony looked over at Peter, concern in his eyes. “What’s up kid?” Peter hunched over, laughing through the pain.

           “My arm is like- ow- spazzing!” He laughed through the pain, it didn’t hurt enough for him to scream, it felt like the one time on patrol when he had been shocked with a woman’s stun-gun when she thought he was trying to grab her. It didn’t necessarily hurt, just locked his joints up a bit. Tony just rolled his eyes and went back to work.

           Peter spent the night at the tower. It was Friday night, and May was on a weekend shift. Peter would normally either stay with Ned or Tony on these weekends, and Ned had called Peter saying he had come down with a cold. So, Stark tower it was. He sat opposite of Steve and Bucky who were watching the newest Yankees game. Peter felt exhaustion pulling at his eyes, but he forced himself to look back down at the homework he had been working on. Tony was on some conference call that Pepper had forced him to take, and he could hear Clint and Nat in the kitchen arguing about how to properly cook spaghetti while Wanda just laughed.

           The Avengers floor had a large commons area. There was the television, kitchen, dining area and a couple of video games. It was a flat and open space. It had two sides to it. The left side led to the bathrooms, and training area. The right side led to all of the bedrooms. Tony had offered to put Peter on his private floor, but Peter just shook his head. He liked being a part of the team like that.

           As the night wore on Tony and Pepper filled into the commons room. Clint had ruined the Spaghetti, don’t even ask Peter how because he didn’t know that was possible. So Tony had grumbled and ordered pizza from the nearest store.

           Peter looked at the food on his plate and sighed, his appetite still completely gone. He forced himself to take a couple of bites before he set it down, wincing at the tightness in his jaw. He began to tap his fingers on his leg, there was an itch in the back of his mind like his hand was being forced to move. Peter watched the movie in front of them. Wanda had gotten to choose tonight, and she had wanted to watch Chasing Mavericks. It was a movie Peter had never seen, but so far, he had kind of liked it. It was about this guy that, against the bad hand the world had dealt him, had found a father figure to replace the lack of his own. The older man, Frosty, took Jay under his wing, teaching him how to not only surf some of the largest and most dangerous waves in the world, but also how to be a better man.

           Peter couldn’t keep his eyes from flicking over to look at Mr. Stark. The older man had Peter’s feet laid over her legs, an arm around Pepper and a pen twirled in his fingers. As Peter watched the movie, seeing as Frosty lost his wife, and Jay helped him back from his guilt and grief, he felt every emotion that the characters felt. He saw as Frosty watched, heart in his throat, as Jay almost died surfing the mavericks. Then, the pain in Frosty’s eyes when Jay did die, taken too soon by his own drive for greatness.

           The movie ended, and Peter saw Tony, wiping his eyes as he leaned back. Natasha had passed out, sitting with her back up against Bucky’s legs. Bucky and Steve had been squished onto the couch together, looking a bit uncomfortable but relaxed, nonetheless. Clint had fallen asleep with his head on Bruce’s shoulder, who in turn had his chin on Clint’s head. The two would freak when they saw woke up.

           Peter went to sit up and frowned at the tightness in his limbs. He felt like his joints had been bolted together and were unable to bend. Peter cracked his jaw and rolled his shoulder. He was still a bit too emotional from the movie to talk, so he stood up and sighed.

           “See you tomorrow, kiddo. I was thinking that we could just have a lazy day at home. Watch some movies, fool around in the lab. The works.” Tony said as he helped pull an exhausted looking Pepper to her feet.

           “Great sounds, Mr. Stark.” Peter turned to go to his room, stopping at Tony’s chuckle.

           “Yeah, you do need to go to bed if you’re talking like that, Pete. G’night.” Peter didn’t know what the older man was talking about, so he just continued walking towards his room.

           And with that, the boy made his way stiffly to his room, fumbling for the king-sized bed and essentially collapsing onto it. School and patrol had really been kicking his butt recently. It had totally zapped his energy, so he was pretty glad to be able to just relax this weekend. Peter closed his eyes, and that was it.

           After the weekend at the tower Peter had finally felt rested. He went to school on Monday happy as could be to be there. Then of course it all went to hell. He had been having a fine weekend. His memory had been a little short, and he kept getting his words mixed up, but Peter had just attributed it to him having been so tired. And, no one had seemed to notice so it wasn’t a big deal anyways.

           He was at Decathlon practice when it happened. Peter had been sitting beside Flash and Betty, answering question after question when there was a strange _popping _sensation in the back of his head. Peter sat up a bit straighter, but he just ignored it, waiting for the next question.

           “Uh- Peter?” He looked up to where MJ was standing with the flashcards in her hands, a strange expression on her normally straight-laced face.

           That’s when he heard the dripping noise and felt liquid on his mouth. Peter put his hand up to his nose and pulled it away. More shocked and annoyed by the sight of the bright red liquid than anything. That’s when he noticed that it wasn’t just dripping, his nose was pouring blood.

Peter pulled his jacket off, holding it up to his nose as he pushed his seat back clumsily.    

“Mr. Parker, do you need to go to the nurse?” Harrington asked in his normally panicked voice.   “No, I-I’m…” He frowned, completely losing his train of thought as the jacket in his hand kept getting wetter under his nose..  “Bathroom, I’m going to go to the bathroom.”

He pushed past the others, bending his knee in annoyance at the stiffness it held. It made him think of his old bike. The kickstand had been rusted, so he could flip it down easily enough, but whenever he tried to pop it back up it would just stick down, aching and squealing in protest as he forced it upwards.

           Peter walked, albeit gimpily to the bathroom. He opened the door and stepped into the fluorescently lit room.

           And his mind blanked. Why was he in the bathroom? Why was his hand pressed to his face? And why on earth did it feel so sticky? Peter turned to leave, pulling the jacket away from his nose when he stopped. His nose was bleeding? When did his nose start bleeding? It didn’t feel like he had gotten punched and he was still at school, so he shouldn’t be having any injuries from school.

           Peter grabbed a couple of paper towels and bent over the sink. He closed his eyes, waiting for the bleeding to stop. It just continued gushing, running down the sink. He breathed out, praying it would stop soon.

           “Peter!” Ned’s voice had Peter snapping his head up. He opened his eyes and looked at his friend, his head pounding. When he looked at himself in the mirror he stopped. Under his nose was a smear of dried blood, and there was a deep red mark on his forehead from where he had been leaning against the edge of the sink.

           “What, jeez, Ned! Don’t scream at me like that, you’re going to give me a heart attack!”

           “Dude, you’re Spiderman and me saying your name is going to do you in?” He said in a voice that made Peter pause. Ned had this tone to his voice that he only got when he was freaked out about something.

           “Ned!” Peter looked around in wild panic as he dampened some paper towels to wipe the blood from his face. “Someone is going to hear you!” Ned just looked at him. His friend’s face was completely slack and dumbfounded.

           “Peter… it’s been two hours! Tony called me, and I told him you had to have goen home because you never came back to practice! I thought you’d gone home after the whole nosebleed thing. Then- then I just come in here to pee before I go home and you’re just like- dude, you were in some freaky trance! Eyes closed, bent over the sink! Are you okay? Is this, should we like, call Mr. Stark about this?” Ned asked so many questions that he just frowned.

           “No, no I’m ok, Ned. I think- I think I’m just tired. I need to go, ok?” Ned just watched as Peter pushed past him. “I’m fine, really! I’ll see you tomorrow!” He said, bringing his hand up to his jaw as he began to rub it again. God, his bones felt so stiff.

           Peter stepped outside and pulled his phone into his hand. His heart plummeted. Twelve missed texts from Tony! He was so dead!

           Hey kid, you still coming to work on the new update for Karen today?

_ _

_            Yo- you ignoring your old man now? I’m completely offended._

_ _

_            Blink once if you are in trouble. _

_ _

_            Peter, kid? You’re friend Ned said you left to go home? Everything peachy clean?_

_ _

_            Alright, I’m kind of panicking. Please call me. _

_ _

_            Now._

_ _

_            Kid, I mean it. Like NOW!_

_ _

_            Ok, your phone is saying it has no signal. _

_ _

_            So help me GOD if you turned off your tracking again_

_ _

_            PETER!_

_ _

_            Alright, I’m sending the avenger’s out now. _

_ _

_            Call me!_

_ _

_ _

_            _He didn’t get service in the bathroom he had been in, and Peter hit the call button. One ring later and Tony was yelling in his ear.

           “Mr. Stark.” He winced again, pulling the phone from his ear. Something was wrong. He couldn’t think. Peter looked around him and stopped. He was in front of some massive building. He could see a football field and stairs. The building behind him looked somewhat like a prison as Peter turned in a circle. “I’m-” He lost the word for it. “I don’t k- I can’t think!” He finally forced out of his increasingly uncomfortable mouth, rubbing his jaw once more.

           “Ok, your tracking is on now.” Tony’s voice was deadly serious as he picked up the predicament his kid was in. “Your friend said he found you bent over the bathroom sink, Bucky is closest to you, but I’m on my way.”

           Peter wanted to speak, but he was hit by a wall of fatigue. He heard someone calling his name, but his phone clattered to the ground as his hand fell limp at his side. He felt like a puppet whose strings had been completely cut.

He swayed. Peter heard yelling, but he couldn’t comprehend the words. He was exhausted, feeling as though he had been running for three hours.

He fell. Unable to hold himself up on his shaking knees anymore. Then he felt arms on his,

lowering him to the ground.

           “Hey, woah- woah kid. Hang on, Tony’s almost here. Geez, what did you smoke?” He heard Bucky above him, and Peter could feel as the ex-assassin sat him up, leaning Peter back against his chest to keep him supported.

           “I- Buck- I can’t think- I don’t. Working, words aren’t.” He could feel the man looking at him, but Peter just wanted help. He was so confused, and nothing was making sense. And what was this happening to him?

           He heard the sound of repulsors and felt more hands on him then Tony’s worry ridden face was in front of him.

           “Kid, what’s going on?” It was then that Peter realized he was crying.

           “I don’t- Tony- I can’t- I can’t- I can’t-” The older man held his hand out, eyebrows creased heavily.

           “Okay, alright. Brucy is waiting on us at the tower, and he’s going to get you all figured out. I swear, if you have alcohol in your system, I’m going to lose it.” Tony’s voice was deadly serious, but Peter knew he was just teasing to work through the anxiety he was feeling.

           “Where- where- are? Where am I?” He stuttered out, looking around, his eyes doing everything they could to put two and two together.

           Tony jerked his head to look at Bucky, he was still holding Peter’s limp head up. “Did he hit his head?”

           “No, I caught him when he fell. I looked, no dilated pupils or bumps on the skull. I have no clue what’s going on.” He said, concern evident in his voice.

           “Kid, we’re at Midtown right now.” Peter blinked. Midtown. That was his school. Terror began to grip at his heart and Peter looked around him. He had walked these sidewalks for years. He had been going to midtown for four years, and now he couldn’t even recognize where he was.

           “What’s wrong with me?” He whispered. Saying it so quietly that only Tony heard. The man bent down, hands around Peter’s face, looking him dead in the eye.

           “I don’t know, buddy. But I am going to figure it out, okay. You just relax. We are going to get everything taken care of.” Peter just stared at him; eyes wide. Tony then stood up, one hand on Peter’s bicep and one on his forearm. Bucky also shifted around, doing the same on Peter’s left side. He was completely limp, muscles absolutely exhausted as he was pulled up. Peter’s legs were completely straight as he stood. Bucky and Tony were the only reason he wasn’t falling flat on his face.

           “Think you can walk, Kid?” Bucky asked from next to him. Peter grunted, moving his legs forward carefully. It was like he was being forced to walk through a mud pit, his limbs feeling as though they weighed thousands of pounds. He could see the car pulling up, a worried Steve and Clint watching him from the front seats. They leapt out, opening the door closest to the trio.

           “Hey, kid. You’re looking like you had a bit too much to drink.” Clint quipped as he helped bend Peter’s knees to get him into the seat, but Peter knew he was terrified. The more time you spent with Clint, the more you realized that his humor covered up all other emotions that he felt. Bucky slipped to the other side of the car, helping to pull Peter through.

           He leaned his head back, sinking into the leather seats as Tony and Bucky supported him on both sides, hands hovering as they wondered what to do. Suddenly a sharp pain jabbed into his thigh. Peter cried out, hunching over. Hands were on him immediately, sitting him back as he continued to cry out.

           “What’s going on?” Steve asked from the driver’s seat. Tony and Bucky were bracing Peter back, holding him up against the seat as he continued to squirm in pain.

           “I don’t know, just get us to Bruce!” Tony kind of yelled, the team just knew that whenever someone Tony loved was in harm’s way, he got like this. Tense, agitated, and quick to snap. But, no one cared. They all knew that it was only because he cared so deeply and couldn’t stand to see anyone he loved in pain. Strangled cries came from Peter’s mouth, and a hand quickly cupped the back of his head.

           “Kid, we are going to get all of this figured out. Hang on for us, alright? I think you’re having a muscle spasm right now, good ole’ Charly Horse, yeah? No big deal, guys that play football get em’ all the time. They hurt like a bitch, but just try and relax.” Bucky said as Peter just let his head go limp. He was so, so tired, everything around him seeming to sap every ounce of energy he had.

           “That’s a good idea. Kid, just try and close your eyes and relax, alright?” Peter grunted, whether in agreement or agitation he didn’t know. His eyes closed, but his mind stayed awake.

The conversations making less and less sense to him as he drifted somewhere else.

           “I don’t know what this is.” A panicked voice started.  “He’s been acting weird the past couple of weeks, losing his train of thought and stuff but, God, this? He just, he seems completely out of it. He didn’t know where we were, and I- God, if I didn’t know better it seems like the same thing that happened to my grandmother.” Tony said from beside him. Peter listened, but he didn’t hear.

           “Like what?” Steve asked from the front.

           “Like- I hate to say this…” Tony paused, obviously deep in thought. “It’s like Alzheimer’s”

           Peter woke up to Bucky and Tony pulling him carefully from the car. Natasha was holding a wheelchair in place, her normally placate face creased with worry at the sight of the teen who could hardly stand on his own. It as something straight from a nightmare.

           “Bruce is getting a room prepped for him. He wants to start him on an MRI scan first.” Her flat tone said, but her hand found Peter’s face and she gave him a soft stroke.

           “Can- can you guys, s-s-s…. quit talking about me. Like I’m not h- like I’m not here.” Every word felt like a struggle to get out. It was like his tongue had been twisted and tied and his brain was doing flips in his head. Like reaching into a bowl of random words, looking for one specific one. Natasha bends down at this as the men get Peter settled into the wheelchair.

           “Kid don’t worry. Bruce and Cho are the best out there, you know that. Whatever is going on with you, we will get it figured out.” Peter rarely saw Natasha look anything other than stone-faced, but right now, her eyes had an air of concern and gentleness that soothed his soul. He relaxed as he was wheeled into the tower.

           “How are you feeling, Pete?” Bruce asked when they made it to the med bay. The man looked concerned, but calm as Peter was helped to sit on the reclined hospital bed.

           “I don’t- I can’t- it’s…” He stopped, taking a deep breath. He couldn’t think. And he was going to go crazy. Before he realized what, he had done, Peter’s phone was laying on the floor, a mirage of broken glass.

           “Alright, alright. Listen, you just relax. We are going to take an MRI, I think it’s possible that you hit your head, and this is just a severe concussion, alright? I’m going to get this done as quickly as possible, you just relax. If you get uncomfortable or feel off just let me know.” Peter just nodded, his eyes hot with tears, finding Tony’s as the man stared at him with worry creasing his features.

           “M-m-may?” Peter stuttered out. Tony nodded, understanding completely.

           “Yeah, I know. I want to wait and see what Bruce says. She’s going to be sleeping right now. Once he lets us know what’s going on, we will give her a call.” Tony ruffled Peter’s hair as one of the nurse’s brought him a hospital gown.

           “I don’t think.” His voice stuttered. “I can’t do it a- a- by myself.” Tony, sad eyes and firm lined mouth, nodded.

           “I know. I’ve you kid. I’ve got you.”

           The MRI was torture for Tony. He stood, watching through the one-way glass, his heart in his throat. The kid had exploded, slamming his phone into the wall on the opposite side of the room with enough force for it to completely shatter. Tony and Bruce had held a brief conversation about a sedative, but since Peter had calmed down, they’d decided to hold off.

           “Tony.” Bruce’s voice was low, and he jerked his head to look at the man. Everyone else was somewhere in the tower, awaiting news. He had sent Happy to get May when Bruce relayed the fact that it would be wise. Something as serious as this, it wasn’t a physical issue. He hadn’t fallen from a building, or been slammed upside the head. This was neurological. And that was scarier than anything else that could’ve happened. Peter was laid out, looking utterly too still as he stared at the white machine above him.

           “Bruce.” Tony’s voice wavered, completely uncertain, and painstakingly terrified. He had risked everything; the team had risked _everything _for that kid. To stop Thanos, to save that boy. That boy who looked completely horrified and unaware of his body. Who was moving like an elderly person, whose brain could hardly place a thought. Tony could not lose him. Tony would _not _lose him. Not now, not ever.

           “I think we need to sit down.” Bruce said gravely. Those were the exact words he had dreaded hearing. Tony just continued to stare at the man. Bruce, who was hiding behind his glasses, his face white as a sheet. And Tony suddenly felt the urge to vomit.

           “Tell me.” He said, unable to say anything more without his voice breaking.

           “Let’s si-”

           “_Bruce.” _He said forcibly.

           “It’s, God, Tony it looks like…” He paused, rubbing his hands over his eyes. He looked

as though he were about to drop to the floor. “It doesn’t make sense, but it looks like- Frontotemporal Dementia.” His voice was a hush, hardly a whisper, but Tony just stared at him like he was a foreign language.

           “_Dementia? _Bruce, he-he’s eighteen. He doesn’t have Dementia!” Tony exclaimed, throwing his hands. Because no matter how much he argued the point, it wouldn’t matter. Because Bruce wouldn’t have said that if it couldn’t happen.

           “It’s rare, Tones. But, it’s the only type of Dementia that can affect young people, and… Tony I think that the advancement that the spider bite gave him… I think that it is working against him and speeding up the process. His symptoms started until last week, and it just doesn’t move this fast.” Bruce gestured to the kid. “This is- it’s moving too fast.” Tony took a deep breath, feeling as though he was underwater.

           “What’s going to happen?” His voice was deathly low, but Bruce heard.

           “It looks to be in a more advanced place. He’s going to have problems holding things, moving, walking. We need to be careful and watch that he doesn’t fall. It will become hard for him to eat, and drink, his muscles essentially will start cramping or seizing up, he won’t be able to move. He… it’s not fatal in itself. But, God-” Bruce’s head fell into his hands. “There’s essentially no way to keep him from getting pneumonia. He will stop being able to move, and when the body lays in one position like that, it just- it’s not good.” And Tony felt like he was dying. Right then and right there. And he grabbed Bruce’s arm, because he couldn’t stand up.

           “Tony, I need you to breathe.” Bruce’s voice filled his brain as Tony sank against the wall.

           “I can’t- Bruce- I can’t lose him.” Bruce kneeled in front of Tony.

           “I will figure this out. Be there for him. Don’t act like he’s dumb or missing something. Treat him as normally as you can. I want him to stay on the Floor with everyone until… as long as he can.” Bruce grimaced as he stood up. “I’m going to give you a minute, and I’m going to go

talk to Peter. Talk to his aunt. I won’t stop until I can find a way to fix this.”

           There were tears and denial from everyone. Peter didn’t understand half of what Bruce told him; he just knew that whatever was going on was bad. It was bad for him, and everyone around him was upset. Bruce promised to not stop trying. Whatever that meant.

           May was there. She was crying and kept holding his head to her chest. Peter was sat on the couch with a blanket up to his chest. Tony was standing in the kitchen, and he had been looking down at the same cup of coffee for the past twenty minutes. Peter blinked heavily, his head dropping towards his chest.

           “Why don’t you take a nap, Pete?” May’s voice was soft as she played with his hair. Peter did feel exhausted. He leaned his head against her arm.

           “It’s like-like a …” He couldn’t think.

           “It’s okay, just relax right now, baby.”

           “It’s like a storm.” He muttered. May tilted her head, looking at him with tears rimming her eyes.

           “What?” His eyes were closed as he released a deep breath. He felt Tony’s hand on his hair, and he sighed.

           “This. ‘s like a storm.”

           It only got worse. Tony had called in every single doctor he could think of. He had called in Cho, Strange, even doctors from Thor’s world. No one could find a cure. Tony was sat with Peter today. May had a double shift at the hospital, and he had Peter duty. The kid was staring at the television. Nothing hurt Tony more than the silence from his kid. Peter had always been the chipper, chatting one. He was the one that was talking when Tony had been anxious or stressed about something. Now, Peter hardly spoke. The dementia was progressing faster than any of them had been ready for. The kid could hardly speak without stuttering. He was constantly confused, and he could hardly eat or drink anything, choking to the point that they had put in a feeding tube and he was now connected to an IV of fluids at all times.

           Tony looked at the kid, biting his lip as he bent his head, doing everything he could to hold back a sob. Peter’s face was void of any emotion as he sat, and Tony couldn’t handle it anymore. He needed an ounce of recognition, a hint of a smile.

           “Hey, Pete. Do you want to go outside? I’ll take you for a stroll?” Peter made eye contact with Tony before offering a stiff nod. “Alright. Let me grab you a jacket and the wheelchair.” Peter just stared back at the television as Tony pushed himself off the couch. The kid hadn’t been able to eat much before the feeding tube, and even with it he was losing weight, which meant he was always freezing. As Tony walked from the hallway with the items, he needed his heart dropped.

           “Pete!” He raced forward, the teen lying face down on the ground, trying and failing to push himself up, the IV had been ripped from his arm. Tony grabbed him and got him in a sitting position. “Are you hurt?” The boy just stared at him; no recognition is his eyes. Tony felt his blood running cold. “Peter, are you hurt?” He pronounced each word very bluntly, but the boy shook his head, his body shaking slightly.

           “Need’d you.” He forced out from his locked jaw. Tony grinned, knowing it didn’t reach his eyes.

           “That’s okay, kiddo. I’ve got you.” He managed to get Peter into the wheelchair, tucking the sweatshirt he grabbed, which just so happened to be his MIT one, over the boy’s head before slipping the IV back into the teen’s arm. He decided to tuck a blanket around the kid as well, making sure he stayed warm.

           It was dark out, and the lights of the city blinked at the two of them. Peter’s favorite spot was on the roof, looking over New York. They hadn’t talked about spider-man since Peter got sick, but he knew the kid missed it drastically, could see it in the boy’s face.

           “M’ scared.” Tony looked down, seeing tears in the kid’s eyes. He knelt next to him, touching the boy’s face gently.

           “It’s going to be okay, Pete.” Heart being torn from his chest.

           “Miss it.” A tear dropped down his cheek and Tony’s thumb caught it.

           “I know. I know you do.” He needed a cure, God let Bruce find a cure.

           “M’ lost, T’ny.” And that did it. It was a sledgehammer straight to his heart. Tony’s calloused hands cupped the teens face, and his distant eyes focused in.

           “You’re not lost. It just feels like you are. Bruce isn’t- we aren’t going to let you go somewhere that we can’t follow.” Each word dripped with emotion. Peter nodded. He was more coherent right now than he had been in the past several days, and Tony was soaking it all in. He pulled the kid from the chair, sitting both of them on a couch that he had set up outside, just for these moments. He grabbed a blanket and pulled a hat on Peter’s head for him. The two sat, listening to the soft music that FRIDAY had turned on, and for a second- one split second- everything was normal.

           Then Peter coughed.

           Ton sat at the table of the commons room, staring at his food and trying to force himself to eat. May was with Peter and Cho, working on finding a way to bring his fever down. Let’s just say, when Peter got sick, he got sick violently. He was coughing up a lung and you could read the discomfort in every labored breath he took. What had the medical team so worried, was the levels of his fever. The kid was racked with chills, and his fever was verging on 104, and Tony ached to see the kid’s hazy eyes.

           He felt a presence behind him and looked up. Helen stood, looking exhausted as she watched him.

           “How is he?” Tony knew, but he still dreamed that he would ask that question and it would be, _He’s healed, Tony! _And he would never have to let the kid get out of his sight again.

           “Not good.” Cho sat, sipping the tea that she held. “I don’t know how much longer he has, to be honest with you.” Tony felt his entire chest darken, running a hand over his mouth.

           “How did this happen? No one in his family showed signs of it, Helen! I looked into his family’s medical records; they show nothing like this! Not a single one of them had anything close to dementia or Alzheimer’s, and I’m just supposed to expect that this is completely random?” He dropped his face into his hands.

           “I wasn’t going to tell you this, because nothing came of it.” Cho looked down. “When Peter first came in and we took his blood, there were… abnormalities in it. A strange chemical mixture that I couldn’t quite make out.” Tony sat up straighter. “I still have the sample, and I’ve been looking into it, but nothing has come of it. If it were-” She stopped herself looking down, and a burning anger filled his chest.

           “If it were what?” She bit her lip.

           “It was foul play,” and his breath was torn away from him. “then it wouldn’t matter right now, because I haven’t been able to curate a way to stop this anyways, and I’ve been trying. I had Natasha looking back to see if Peter ever got hit with any kind of dart or injected with anything, she’s been looking since he came in last week but nothing’s come up.” Tony’s hands were shaking as he watched her. “I- the pain he’s in… I need to start him on Morphine.” Tony felt his chest tightening.

           “Morphine is a death sentence.” He choked out, unable to breath.

           “It- it doesn’t look good. He’s in pain right now. His body is shutting down and he’s sick. I’ll give you until the end of the day, but Tony- I won’t let him suffer any longer than that.” She said firmly, as Tony stared at the wall in front of him.

           “I will fund whatever you need. I will get you every scientist in the world. Get my boy back.” He stood, completely abandoning the food on the table.

           “Where are you going?”

           “I’ve got a very unlucky person out there waiting for me to hunt them down. Someone did this to my kid, I just know it. I have to find them. I have to do something.”

           He took Clint, Natasha, and Bucky with him. He needed to be sure that he had a team of people willing to do whatever it took to get this son of a bitch. Tony had scoured every ounce of footage from Peter’s suit, and he had found it. There was a man that Peter had fought, of course he had won, but the man had gotten a small cut onto Peter. Of course, the kid hadn’t thought anything of it, but as Tony had FRIDAY read into who the man was, he found out that he was a scientist from OSCorp, and there was no way that he was completely innocent.

           They had found his home and waited until nighttime. When they ambushed, it had only taken Natasha three and a half minutes to get the cure from him. Tony had already called SHIELD. Whenever the psycho, who said he wanted to see how Peter’s Spider DNA reacted to the Dementia, got out of the hospital, he would be in prison for a very very long time.

           Tony raced back to the tower, stopping in his tracks when he heard May weeping. _I’m too late. _He thought to himself. Peter was dying a terrible, painful death, and he was too late. Bruce came sprinting around the corner, his face pale and sweating.

           “Please tell me he-”

           “Not yet, but God- I would never give him something like this without testing it, but we don’t have time. I just pray that it kick starts his healing factor, because. Well, I’m not going to lie to you, without it he doesn’t have long. His fever is too high and with the way his muscles are shutting down, he’s losing his ability to clear his airway by coughing. Helen’s going to administer Morphine in twenty minutes if this does nothing.” Tony gave the man the vial and followed as they raced to the room, ignoring the growing shaking of his hands.

           May was weeping, Her face laying in Peter’s hand on the bed. The ventilator hissed as it did everything it could to do the job his lungs couldn’t. His face was ghastly pale, the bags under his eyes dark enough to look racoon-ish. He looked so thin, and weak. Tony hated it. He hated every second of seeing his kid look like this.  

           “Okay, Peter. If you can hear me, we have something to give you.” Helen said from where she entered the room behind Tony. May looked up, tear stained eyes that held a haunted hope. Because if this didn’t work- they knew the outcome.

           Helen prepped the needle and walked to the port in his left arm. She bent her head down, saying a quick prayer. Tony did the same. She inserted the honey-looking liquid in. And they waited. Nothing happened.

           The respirator hissed. The pulse ox beeped, dangerously low, and the heart monitor seemed to be counting down the seconds. Everything seemed to slow down drastically, as Tony rubbed his hand over the boy’s forehead, hand gripping his kid’s tightly.

           Then doe brown eyes slipped open. And they held more recognition and love in them than Tony had seen in weeks. And he thought his knees would buckle.

           Tony gripped the boy’s hand, staying out of Cho and Bruce’s way. They began examining him, giving him his pain medications that would work now that his metabolism was working again. The boy may at least be awake, but he was still sick. His metabolism working the way it was, had him beginning to fight the ventilator that he was on, and Tony put a placating hand on his shoulder, steadying the kid best he could. “We’ve got you Pete, we’ve got you.” He said over and over as the boy squeezed his hand, brown eyes blown wide. He knew this would be terrifying. He knew Peter would have a long road of recovering ahead of him, but they could do this.    

           By the time Cho and Bruce left, Peter was falling back asleep with exhaustion. The respirator would stay in until his lungs cleared, which, with his healing rates, shouldn’t take longer than a couple of days.

           May had stepped out to go shower when the boy fell back asleep, Tony having promised to stay with him. He had pulled a chair closer to the teen’s bed, tucking a blanket into his lap as he waited for the boy to wake up.

           “I missed you, kiddo. God, I was terrified.” He whispered as he sat, running his fingers through the boy’s hair. He hadn’t expected the kid to wake up with the amount of drugs he was on, but he felt the hand tightening around his own.

           Soft brown eyes forced themselves open, and Peter was looking at him, trust filling his eyes, and Tony knew he would never again take him for granted. “Hey kid.” Peter’s hand tightened on Tony’s. The man leaned forward, shushing Peter gently as he blinked. “Just rest, Pete. I’ll be here when you wake up. I’ll be here for the rest of your life. Whenever you need me.” Peter had tears in his eyes, and Tony just hushed him once more, running his thumb across the boy’s cheek. “You’re not lost anymore, Pete. We found you.” He closed his eyes as Tony continued playing with his hair. “We found you.”

[fangirl-inthe-us]

Querencia Pt. 2

Gif not mine

Summary:  Pregnant and alone, you stumble upon a man in the middle of a quarry. You save him from a walker. It all happens fast, but you are in labor and the man you just saved claims to know someone who can help. Will you accept his help or turn the other way?

Querencia - (n.) A place where one’s strength is drawn, where one feels at home; the place where you are your most authentic self.

Author’s Note:  Yay! Part two! I’m not too sure about this part. This could be because I’ve read it so many time that I’ve become numb to it. Creative criticism is welcomed. Also, if any of you know how to make my dialogue less awkward, I’d appreciate it! Without further ado, here is part two!

Warnings: Swearing, violence, blood, my grammar.

Word Count: 5.4k

Series parts: Part 1, Part 2, 

The Doc, who I had learned was named Hershel, had ordered me to bed rest for a whole twenty-four hours. He said that it was to monitor how the mother and the baby were doing. Fortunately, I had some company to entertain me.

Beth had been by my side for most of the day. She had been tasked with taking care of Edmund. Throughout the day she and I had gotten well acquainted with each other. I found out that she was seventeen. Also, she used to babysit.

I told her how I had gone to college to become a teacher. I mentioned that I ended up dropping out because I didn’t have enough money. Beth told me that before the world ended, she hadn’t fully decided whether she wanted to go or not. Then I told her about how I met Derek and how he died. She had squeezed my shoulder.

“Do ya miss him?” Beth suddenly let out.

“Yes. He was my first love, but I’ve had some time and I’m over it.”

“What do ya mean?” Beth’s lifted her eyes to meet mine. She had her brows furrowed and a small frown on her lips.

“I was out there, alone, for a long time. The time let me think and as the days passed, I came to terms with his death. It also made me think about how I would die. I always figured it’d be in childbirth, but thanks to Daryl, not only do I get to live, but my child does too.” A small smile formed on my lips.

I watched as Beth slipped into her mind. There was a long pause as she thought over something. Suddenly, she came out of her thoughts.

“I don’t know what I’d do if my boyfriend were to die.”

I frowned. What could she mean? It’s been a while since the world ended and communication has been down just as long. How could she possibly know if her boyfriend was alive?

“How do you know if he’s alive?”

She giggled a little, “He’s here on the farm. It was the third day after the world ended and he came rushing into the farm. I was overjoyed to see that he was still alive. He had come to the farm to see if I was too.”

“That makes a lot more sense.” After a moment we both started to giggle. Man, it felt good to have a lighthearted moment again.

After our talk, Beth eventually had to go to sleep. Edmund had been put to bed sometime during our talk. With goodnights exchanged, Beth was out the door heading to her room.

~~~~~~

 It was the next morning. I got up and walked to the old crib Edmund was in laying in. Hershel was kind enough to lend me the crib they had used for Beth. I picked up my son and sat down in the chair next to it. I began feeding Edmund.

 Suddenly Beth appeared. “Daddy said that you’re able to go outside now,” Beth announced as she leaned on the door frame.

“Okay, thanks, Beth.” The girl walked off and I focused on the task at hand.

After Edmund was full, I had burped him. Soon after, I got both of us dressed. Someone yesterday must have gone out and grabbed a few baby clothes. Since there was a box full of clothes.

There were several onesies and each of them had their own pattern. I soon found my favorite, as I pulled out one with little pirate ships spread across the fabric. Along with the onesies, there were a few t-shirts and baby jeans for when Edmund got older. I was surprised that someone had thought that far in advance.

I made my way out with Edmund in my arms. The door shut behind me and I surveyed the area outside. When my eyes landed on the camp, I noticed that it was further from where I thought it was.

Examining further, Daryl’s group had built their camp around a small fire pit. The fire pit had several chairs around it and behind the chairs were everyone’s tents.

I noticed quickly that Daryl was nowhere to be seen. I knew that Hershel had let Daryl go back to his tent last night. There was a commotion that happened which had woken up Edmund who was sleeping in my arms.

“I heard that you had quite the adventure a couple days ago,” A woman with a short hair approached me.

“Anyone still alive has had an adventure. I, fortunately, made a few choices which led to a good situation,”

“I guess so. I’m sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. My name’s Carol.”

“Nice to meet you, my name’s (Y/N).” I flashed her a smile, “This little one is Edmund.” I walked closer to the woman to show her the little munchkin.

“Well, hello there Edmund,” Carol turns her attention back to me, “He’s adorable.”

“Thanks,” A smile found its way to my lips.

“I have a little girl,” her lips from a frown for a moment and tears welled in her eyes, “I’m sorry. It’s just that, she’s all alone out there. She got chased by those things.”

My eyes softened. “If I’m not mistaken, Daryl was out there looking for her when I found him.”

“Yes, he’s been dead set on finding my little girl. I have been very appreciative of him. He keeps the hope up.”

“I can tell you that he is dedicated. Even while he was bringing me here, he always looked like he was watching for something. Now I know what. Y’all are lucky to have someone like that.”

“I know. Everyone here has been supportive and always looking for an opportunity to look for her. I just hope that we’ll find her soon. It’s already been a while and I worry.”

“As mother should,” I gave her a soft look. Carol smiled and nodded. “Do you happen to know where I can find Daryl? I wanted to thank him for what he did for me.”

“He’s out there by the crumbled wall,” Carol pointed toward the line of trees.

My eyes moved in the direction that Carol was pointing. As I examined the area, I found a demolished wall. Beside the wall were a fairly sized tent and a small fire pit. While examining the area, I watched as the woman who shot Daryl walked away from his tent.

“Isn’t that the woman who shot Daryl?” I turned to Carol.

“Yes, she must be apologizing to him. She felt awful after she found out she shot the man. Her name is Andrea just so you know. That way you don’t have to go around calling her as ‘the woman who shot Daryl’.” Carol gave me a small smirk.

“Andrea, okay. Well, I think that I’m gonna go visit Daryl. I haven’t had the chance to thank him for saving me and my baby. I’ll talk to you later.” I waved at the woman beside me and she waved back. With that, I walked toward Daryl’s small camp.

I looked down at Edmund, he was being jostled around, yet he still found a way to sleep. His little head was laying on my chest with his fists balled around the neck of my shirt. Tearing up, I realize Edmund wouldn’t have been a thing in my life if Daryl didn’t come into my life.

Once I reached Daryl’s tent, I tapped on the thin door. There was a shuffle. I waited for some sort of acknowledgment. When there was nothing, I spoke up.

“Daryl?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I come in?”

“Yeah”

I attempted to unzip the tent. It wasn’t something easily done since I only had one hand. As I struggled, I’m pretty sure I heard a little snort from the other side of the door. Finally, I got the door opened and I made a quiet gasp.

Daryl was splayed out with his shirt opened. A few buttons were undone which exposed some of his chest. This made an odd sensation grow in my belly. Feeling a warmness spread across my cheeks, I hoped that Daryl figured that it was from the heat.

“Ya just gonna stand there and gawk?”

“Sorry, sorry. I was just making sure you were okay. I saw what you looked like after you were shot. It didn’t look good, Daryl.”

“‘m fine. The bullet jus’ grazed me. How’s the little tyke?” Daryl tried changing the subject.

“Well, it took an hour and a half but the little guy is as healthy as can be.  Beth has been helpin’ me take care of the little guy. He’s got himself a pair of lungs.” I smiled as Daryl chuckled at that.

“’s a boy? Ya, name ‘im?”

“Yeah.” My smile broadened, “Daryl, meet Edmund Joseph (Y/L/N).” I sat Eddie down beside Daryl. Edmund looked up at Daryl’s face as he cooed.

“Nice ta meet ya, Lil’ Risk-taker. The name’s, Daryl Dixon,” I made a look. Daryl saw it, “He took a risk deciding to come out at the time he did. Put his mama through a lot.”

There was a little squeal as Eddie examined the ground beneath him. Daryl and you both moved your gaze to him. A few quiet minutes passed. Both of you watched Edmund for a little while. I let my eyes migrate to the man in front of me.

The corners of his mouth were slightly upturned, and his eyes were trained on the baby as he played. There was a warmth to Daryl I hadn’t seen before. Yet, from the way that Beth talked about him, he didn’t seem like the type of guy to spread the love. Daryl must have a soft spot for kids.

“’m thinkin’ ‘bout goin’ back out there soon.” I automatically wanted to oppose the idea, “I’m assumin’ they told ya about Carol’s lil’ girl’.”

“Carol actually told me. Besides that, how can you even want to move around? You just got shot.”

“I have to find her. She’s out there alone. I found her doll. If I jus’ had one more day, I’d have that girl back here ‘n no time!”

“Daryl, calm down. I get that you want to be out there as soon as possible, but you must think rationally. You’re hurt. You need to take a break. I could maybe take someone out to where we were and look in that area-”

“No. You got Lil’ Risk-taker to take care of. You can’t go riskin’ ya life out there. I already feel better and I know the area now. I will be fine moving around.”

“Just because I have Edmund doesn’t mean that I’m going to stay back and watch as y’all risk your lives. I want to contribute to the group.”

“An’ Ya can do that here! Lil’ Risk-Taker don’t need ta lose his momma right after he’s born. Bein’ a kid without ya parents is hard an’ he don’t need that.” As Daryl was talking I couldn’t help but think that he was talking from experience. The thought jerked my heart.

“What would I do then? I don’t even know if y’all want me to stay.” Daryl tried to interrupt, but I kept talking, “I know you guys don’t know me and some of your members look a little territorial-”

“Would ya shut up?” Daryl glared up at me, “Yer a part of the group now. Carol an’ the Grene girls have been talkin’ like ya one of us. I sure as hell ain’t lettin’ ya leave. I’d drag yer ass back here myself. People need groups to survive now an’ now that ya have a baby, ya need us more than ever. So ya ain’t leaving. If ya want to start helping, ya can do it without riskin’ ya life. ‘m sure Carol could use the help and there’s much ta do here at the farm. Maybe you n’ I can go scoutn’ or lookin’ for the girl later.”

I was running my fingers over the floor of the tent as Daryl ranted. When he mentioned about me being a part of the group, I looked up, surprised. I didn’t know   What, Carol or anybody else really thought of me. All I knew was there were a few weird looks I got from some of the members. Especially from the man who carried me to the Greene house.

I was also surprised he admitted to going out looking for the girl. I would’ve gone out without his permission, but the fact that he’d want me to go with him was somethin’ else.

“Okay, Lil’ Risk-taker and I are here to stay.” Daryl lit up when I called Edmund by his nickname. “And I’ll take ya up on the offer to go looking for Sophia with you.”

It became oddly quiet. I gazed down toward Edmund. There he was with his arms tucked under him, asleep. Eddie’s mouth was slightly open and his little chest rose and fell every time he took a breath.

“Alright, seeing how he’s ready for nap time, I’ll leave you to get some sleep for yourself.”

“I’m fine. Jus’ waiting for this damn wound to heal up so I can go look for Sophia again.”

“Don’t do anything stupid. I can’t lose the only person who tolerates my presence.” Daryl rolled his eyes as I stood up.

I leaned down to carefully picked up Edmund. Carefully, I stepped out of the tent. Closing the flap behind me, I examined the sight in front of me. Patricia, Beth, and her boyfriend were standing by a truck while talking amongst themselves. At the other end of the camp, a woman and two men were talking heatedly to a kid. I didn’t see where Carol was, so I decided I’d put Edmund in his crib and then go see what was going on.

I slipped into the room that I’ve been using for the past couple of nights. I laid Edmund down. The little guy was out cold, so he didn’t really notice when he left my arms. His eyes were closed and his mouth was still open. The fuzz he had for hair was sticking up in all directions. My heart filled with unconditional love.

Once Edmund was tucked in, I closed the door behind me and walked out towards the camp. As I approached Beth, the woman and two men from before were walking toward us. I looked at Beth with a confused look. She just waved it off.

“Alright, looks like we have someone else joining us.” The man nudged his head towards me. He was standing with his hand on his hips and a smile on his face.

“Um… What exactly are we doing?” I asked.

“We’re going out for shooting lessons. You wanna join?” The man next to the one from before spoke up. I instantly recognize this man as the one who carried me into the Greene’s house.

“I guess I can. Is Carol coming? I’m gonna need someone to look over Edmund.”

“I think she is but I’m pretty sure Dale won't mind looking over your little one.” The first man reasoned.

“Okay, I’ll talk to him before we go,” Suddenly, I blurt out, “I’m sorry! I haven’t introduced myself. I’m (Y/N) (Y/L/N).” I waved at the new group.

“I’m Rick Grimes. This is my wife Lori and that is my partner Shane Walsh.” Rick motioned to the two people beside him. Then the kid from before appeared. “And this is my son Carl. Carl, this is (Y/N).” The kid waved.

“Nice to finally meet y’all. It’s been a while since I had people to talk to. So, sorry if I’m a little awkward.” My shoulders lifted and my lips formed into a small smile.

“How long were you out there alone?” Everyone looked like they were genuinely interested to hear my answer.

“Uh, I don’t know. The only person who was with me was my boyfriend. But he died a month after the world ended.”

“You poor thing! you were alone for most of it!” Lori was looking at me with her brows knitted. Suddenly, she was walking to where I stood and was wrapping her arms around me. “I can’t imagine being out there, alone for that long. How did you do it? Especially while pregnant?”

There was something in Lori’s eyes. It was like she wasn’t just asking out of curiosity, but almost for herself. There was obviously something going on there. I’d have to ask Carol or Daryl if they knew anything about it.

“I just survived.  I found whatever I could and kept walking. I lived all the way back in Iowa. So, I got pretty far. Though honestly, until Daryl came, I thought that I would die while in childbirth.” There were a few pitying looks aimed in my direction.

“Well, we're glad you made it. And your welcome to stay here with us. Nowadays, you need other people to live.” Rick motioned with his hands as he talked.

“Daryl told me the same thing. And I have decided that I’m staying,” I chuckled a little, “Daryl even said he’d drag me back if I attempted to leave.” Everyone chuckled at the thought.

After that talk, Rick went over the plan with me. It sounded like stuff I had already learned on my own, but I figured that the practice wasn’t a bad idea. Plus, it might be a little different since I’m not nine months pregnant anymore.

Before we went off, I introduced my self to Dale and asked if he would watch over Edmund for me.  I didn’t want to assume that he would watch over him.

“Hey, Dale right?”

“Yes, ma'am. You’re (Y/N)?”, He must have seen the confusion written on my face as he reassured me, “I talked to Daryl and he told the group about how you two met. Pretty interesting story if ya ask me.”

“Oh, yeah. He would have been walkers lunch had I not walked in when I did.” Dale nodded his head, “I was wondering, Rick wants me to go with the group to the shooting range-”

“I’ll watch over the little one. He’ll be safe here.” I was surprised by his sudden comment.

“Thank you. I know y’all don’t know me much, but I appreciate everything that you’ve done, and what you are doing for me and my son.”

“It’s no problem. Babies are cute and it beats havin’ to sit in the sun all day.” I smiled at the older man.

I left Dale to do what he was doing before and walked toward the others. Everyone except Rick and Shane was ready. The two men were fussing over a bag of guns. One would pull a gun out and the other would put it back in. They would argue a little more and the process would repeat itself. I giggled as I reached Carol’s side.

“Do you have any idea what they’re doing?” I whispered in Carol’s ear.

“They’re trying to decide which guns to take with us. It’s hilarious to watch.” I giggled at Carol’s last comment. She turned to look at me. “How was the talk with Daryl?”

“It went fine. He got to see Edmund for the first time. It’s funny, he even gave Eddie a nickname, Lil’ Risk-Taker,” Carol snorted, “What? I think it’s cute.” I eyed Carol. She was smirking.

“Looks like there are a few more things you think are cute coming from that man,” I felt my cheeks heat up.

“Oh, shut up! Things aren’t that way between us! We just met.” I hurriedly tried to explain myself.

“I was just teasing. I didn’t imply anything but your reaction did give away a few things.” I just rolled my eyes. Keeping my mouth shut was probably the best idea at that moment.

“Hey, do you know anything that’s going on with Lori? I know I don’t really know her, but she seemed a bit off.”

“Not that I know of. Now that you mention it, she has been a little weird, but it’s probably just emotions. She’s only had her husband back for a month or two.” I just nodded. That would make a little sense.

“Alright, I think we’re ready to go,” Rick spoke up as he stopped in front of the group. He beckoned us to move towards the cars. Walking towards the cars, I noticed that Shane already at the cars with the bag of guns slung over his back.

Carol, Beth, and Patricia followed me into a car. In the car next to us, Shane and Andrea rode together while behind us, Rick, Lori, Carl, and Beth’s boyfriend rode in another car.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 We had stopped and Rick and Shane told us that we’d be walking the rest of the way. Thankfully, it didn’t take too long. The area we stopped at was a wide opening in the forest. There was a fence that happened to be connected to a neighbor of the Greene’s.

I watched as Shane and Rick set up our targets. The targets were just cans set on the fence posts. We all moved closer to the area. When Rick was ready, he went over the basics.

“Alright, This here is the safety. You’re gonna want ta switch it if any of you want to even begin to shoot. Now, from there it sounds pretty easy, but is probably one of the hardest things you encounter when tryin’ ta shoot.” As Rick talked, Shane was nodding beside him.

“I remember when I was shootin’ for the firs’ time and it took a lot out of me. I was a stubborn son of a bitch and I was there practicin’ for what felt like days. I would wake up and go practicing. My advisors had to drag me out of the range, just to get me to finish my other responsibilities.” Shane was here, talking, but he was somewhere far away in his head.

  “I remember you almost knocked someone out tryin’ to stop them. You were so determined then. Not that you aren’t now. It’s just the situation is different.” Rick was smiling at his partner as he recollected his memories.

  “I got in so much trouble. I dragged you into everything too.” Shane had a smile on his face until he looked at Lori.

  I watched as the smile on Shane’s face fell. Lori and Shane didn’t vocalize anything, but there was something in their eyes. Yep, there was definitely something going on between those two.

  Soon, the men started handing out guns to everyone. When they got to me, they both smirked. Shane started to riffle through the gun bag. The looks they gave me, it was like they were the hunters and I was the prey.

  “We saw that you were carrying a shotgun with you when you came to us. We figured you wouldn’t need any beginners training. So we’re gonna let you give this a try.” When Rick had finished talking, Shane walked up to me holding what looked like a hunting rifle.

  “Oh my. I don’t know… The only things I’ve shot with are a handgun and my shotgun. You really sure about this?”

  “We’re sure. From what we gathered from Daryl, you know how to carry something of this size. Plus, We’ll be there to help ya out if ya need it.”

  “Okay, I guess I’ll try it out. One question. If I get good enough, can I join the watch list? I’d be nice to contribute.”

  “Sure, I’m pretty sure once Shane has taught you that you’d be more than fit to join.” Rick looked at his best friend and smiled.

  “Cool. Now, is there anything, besides basic knowledge, that I need to know before firing this thing?” I glanced toward the men while raising the rifle.

  “You fired a shotgun, right?” I nodded, “Then you’re good. This bad boy is gonna have a lighter kick than your shotgun. And I’m pretty sure ya know how to aim down ya sights. You’re good.”

  “Alright, so Where am I going and what am I aiming for?” With that question, Rick motioned for Shane to take me to where I’d be shooting from.

  “Now, you gonna want to aim for that branch all the way over there. I made sure to put a can on top of it. Can ya see it?”

  Getting into position, I looked into my scope. Sure enough, there was the can. “I see the can. Do ya want me to go ahead and fire?”

  “Yep. Just aline the scope with the can and squeeze the trigger.” I followed Shane’s instructions.

  As I squeezed the trigger, the bullet went zipping through the clearing. Looking back into the scope, I found that I missed he can. There was the tiniest hole stuck into the branch just below the can. The can stood proudly on top of the brach. It was like it was mocking me. I’ll show you can.

  “Not bad. Okay, now pull back the bolt to reload.”

  I followed Shane’s instructions again and got back into my position. I took a big breath in. While I breathed out, I squeezed the trigger and sent another bullet flying. As soon as the bullet was shot, I was looking in the scope. I watch just in time to see the can fly off the branch and hit the ground.

  I move back and jumped up and down is excitement. I was whooping as well. When I looked at everybody else, I saw they were cheering along. Without thinking, I pulled Shane into an elated hug. When I pulled back I blushed and apologized.

  “No problem girlie. It’s an exciting moment for you.” Shane flashed a smile at me. I gave him a smile back and headed to talk to Carol who looked like she wanted to squeeze the life out of me.

 ~~~~~~~~~

    We were riding back to the farm. I was pretty pleased with what I had accomplished. Shane said that if we had a few more practices, then I could be put on the watch list. I’d officially have a job. He also said that he and Rick would introduce Their scavenging friend to me.

  I was squished in between Carol and Carl this time. I expected the car ride to be a quiet one, but I was mistaken.

  “I’m so bored! Why did we have to go out so far?” Carl was sitting to my right with a scrunched up face.

  “Because. We don’t want the noise to attract any walkers and draw them to the camp.” Rick was eyeing Carl from the rear-view mirror.

  “Is there any way we can get home any quicker? Or a way to make the time go by quicker?”

  Rick was about to speak, but before he could, I voiced my opinion. “Of course there is!” Rick looked at me confused. “Gimme something that starts with the letter A.”

  Carl thought for a second. “Can it be an animal?” He asked looking up at me.

  “Sure,” I answered back with a shrug.

  “Okay, how about an armadillo?”

  “Awesome! So, I’m going to the Zoo-”

  “Oh! I know this game!” Carl’s face brightened up.

  “Sweet! Do you wanna start or do you want me to?”

“I’ll go since I chose the animal.”

“I’m going to the Zoo and I’m bringing an armadillo.”

We got through the entire alphabet. By the time we had reached Z, all the adults were tired of our voices and wanted to get home as soon as possible. We reached the house with a happy Carl and an annoyed group of adults. I was content because I made Carl happy. I did this all the time with the children I worked with. That was when I was in my college education class.

    When I clambered out of the vehicle, Shane was by my side and Rick was walking over here with an Asian man beside him. He was slightly shorter than Rick. There was a baseball cap on his head which made him look a lot younger.

  “(Y/N), meet Glenn.” I smiled and held out my hand for him to shake.

  “Hi, nice to meet you” I watched as Glenn shook my hand. Once he let go, I let my hand fall.

  “Nice to meet you too. I hear you’re a good scavenger, me too.” He smiled, “It’s nice to have someone else. I’m always the one to be asked to go out. At least this time we can take turns risking our lives. Not that you should with the baby and all.”

  I chuckled as Glenn rambled. He scratched the back of his head. While Glenn and I were talking, Rick and Shane must have walked off because neither of them were with us.

  “Don’t sweat it. I’m not just gonna sit around and do nothing because I’m a mom now. I want to help you guys out and if it’s going out there to scavenge, then that’s what I’ll do. Plus, I got pretty good at it back when it was just me. I know how not to get killed.” Glenn relaxed once I finished talking.

  As we talked, someone eventually called for Glenn and we went our separate ways. It was at this time I decided that I should go check on Edward and then thank Dale, once more for his kindness.

  I entered the room where I left Eddie and I found that he was awake. His attention seemed to be drawn by a little mobile hanging above his crib. I frowned. I didn’t remember it being there before I left.

  Upon closer inspection, I recognized a few things attached to it. There was a little wooden arrow, a bow, and a few feathers. They were all tied to a metal band which hung from the ceiling. Looking at the embellishments, I knew that it must’ve come from Daryl. As it spun, I notice a small block of wood that had something carved into it. It was the nickname Daryl gave Eddie. Lil’ Risk-Taker.

 ~~~~~~~~~

    It was the next morning and I was sitting with the camp. Eddie was sitting on my lap. He was as happy as could be as he looked around him 

  I was handed a plate of eggs and some meat by Carol. I smiled at her and she gave me a smile back. I dug into my food and happily chewed my fluffy eggs. The texture wasn't like normal eggs, but hey, it’s the zombie apocalypse. What can you expect?

  Suddenly, Daryl sat next to me. He had a bit of a struggle as he tried to avoid opening his stitches. Also, he had one less hand because he was carrying a plate of food. I quickly placed my plate on the group to help him.

  “Here let me help.” I took his plate as he eased himself into the fold up chair.

  “Thanks.” Daryl took his plate from me.

  “No problem. You’ve got stitches. It’s the least I could do.” The only response I got was a grunt.

  With that, I examined the camp. I haven’t been out here much so I was looking at everyone’s living situations. There were tents everywhere and clothesline hanging from the trees. There were a few chairs surrounding the fire which Carol was currently cooking breakfast.

  I noticed that each family had grouped together. Or Rick, Lori, and Carl were all together. Shane was standing next to them, Andrea was sharpening her knife, and Dale stood at the edge of the camp. I noticed that T-Dog was beside Carol, helping her cook. Glenn was gazing at Maggie who was standing on her porch.

  When I looked at Maggie, I saw that she was shaking her head at Glenn. What was that all about? When I looked back at Glenn, I saw he had stopped googling at Maggie and had is eyes on Dale. Dale was nodding his head. Did everyone know something I didn’t?

  I was going to ask Daryl if he knew anything, but before I could, Glenn shot up and moved to stand in front of the camp.

  “Uh… Um. Guys. So,” There was a long pause and Glenn looked around nervously. “The barn’s full of walkers.”

Tags: @jodiereedus22

[missblissy]

Title: Free Fall Fandom: Red Dead Redemption Genre: Reader-insert, one-shot  Character: Arthur X Reader

Follow me on AO3!! Read it there too!

Description:             You and Arthur go for a hunting trip into Big Valley but some trouble comes along for the ride too. Things don’t turn up as planned. At all..

It wasn’t all that bad this morning. The rain from the night before had finally started to dry, and everyone started to come out of hiding.

Hosea was already up long before you, sitting by the campfire of the Horseshoe Overlook camp. Pearson had just gotten up too along with Grimshaw. You walked over to Hosea and sat down beside him.

“Good morning,” He said, handing you a small cup of coffee he had waiting beside him.

“Morning,” Your voice was still a little rough, “Thanks,” You took the cup, bringing it right up to your nose and let the steam flow over your face. It was far more refreshing than the chilly wet morning.

You look at Hosea, he seemed worried like always. All this stress of moving and running from the law has turned his hair even whiter and put more wrinkles on his face. He wasn’t looking too good. Every morning though, at every camp, for the last several years, you’ve woken up to spend your morning coffee with the old man. He was the father you never got to have.

“Got any plans for today?” Hosea took a drink from his coffee then looked over to you.

“Mhm,” You weren’t much for words this early. You took a sip of the coffee and then shrugged, “I’m not sure yet... We just got here, it’s only been a couple of days. There is a lot of work to do around camp still.”

“Yes, there is,” He sounded tired, “Maybe you should go hunting. The weather is perfect,” All of a sudden there was a little twinkle shining in his eye, “Years ago...” He started his story with a little smile, “When I was out in this country with some old counterparts, we heard of this huge- I mean really huge buck, right in the heart of Big Valley.”

“Yeah? Did you go after it?” You sat up a little straighter trying to get the hunch out of your back. You saw Abigal and John already having some sort of argument.

Hosea laughed a little and shook his head, “Didn’t even see it. Spent a whole week out there. Not a single damn thing. Nothing. We had better luck hunting the flies that piled around our shit.”

You both laughed at that. Chuckling under your breath, you asked, “You think it’s still out there?”

“Maybe,” Hosea took a sip of his coffee, “I’m not entirely sure, but it’s possible it’s still out there,”

“What’s still out there?”

You nearly jumped out your skin and screamed like a little animal. Arthur was standing behind you two with a bowl of stew in his hands. He had the smallest smirk on his face. So small you could barely even see it. Your heart started to pick up and inside your head, you were spazzing out. But you calmed down from the surprise and cooly said, “Huge buck, up in Big Valley,”

“You don’t say?” Arthur looked interested. You tried your best not to look at him too much. Some days you just wanted to stare from dawn till dusk at that man. Rarely did you ever get the chance to. He was always off doing this and that, running around like a little pack mule for Dutch.

You looked between the two men, and listened as Hosea said, “Why don’t you two go hunting?” You didn’t say anything and just kept sipping at your coffee. Truth is... You and Arthur... Haven’t been getting along too well recently.

Since the whole Blackwater incident, since you saw Dutch... Do that.. do what he did to that girl, your faith in the gang, in Dutch, has been unshaken. Hosea was the only one you could stand to even be around because he was the only one here who knew any better than Dutch, but nobody listened to him much.

It was hard, having to see the small family you loved finally start falling apart. From the start, it had just been the five of you. Hosea, Dutch, Arthur, John and little you. You watched people come and go, many of them died, but it was always you guys.

The last time you spoke to Arthur though, was up in the mountains during the blizzard when he came back with Kieran. You fought over letting that poor guy go, but Arthur insisted on following Dutches orders, and you argued that Dutch wasn’t fit to lead this gang anymore. That was about a week ago. You haven’t spoken since.

There was silence for a bit, you didn’t want to answer or get your hopes up that Arthur would want to go on a hunting trip with you. You did miss him a lot. Arthur was by far one of your favorite people, probably the only person you’d die for. He was, to say the least, the man of your dreams. He was just so... wrapped around Dutch’s finger.

Finally, after a minute or two, Arthur said, “Sure,” and looked down at you. He trapped a finger on your head a few times, “You up for it?”

“Yeah, I suppose. A buck that big could feed the camp for a week,” You were actually very excited to go. It was so hard to keep all those emotions inside and keep your cool and laid back facade.

The three of your got up and started walking through camp. Hosea spoke up and walked between you and Arthur, “Excellent!” He seemed so happy to have the both of you -sort of- talking again, “You’ll need some supplies and I’ll let Dutch know you’ll be out,” Hosea handed you a small bag filled with who knows what he meant by ‘supplies.’

He rushed you off and left with a smile and a wave about how he was going to go read some book. The silence returned between you and Arthur and you felt the need to fill it.

You climbed up on your horse and got comfortable in your saddle, “You know which way we’re headed?” Arthur just let out a little grunt. That meant yes, “Take the lead then.” You said.

The ride, for the most part, was silent and little slow paced. You watched Arthur up front as he took his time to look at the world around him. He seemed just as tired as Hosea. You wanted to fill the void with between you and Arthur so you caught up and rode beside him.

The sun had just barely made it over the hills, the sky was a painting of red, pink, blue, orange and purple. It was beautiful. So you chose that to be the topic of your small talk, “A perfect sunrise, don’t you think?”

“It is,” He agreed, “Aren’t they your favorite?”

“Yeah, it is.” You felt a little smile twitch at your lips. He remembered... It made your heart swell in your chest and your brain scream. It was so difficult being around Arthur now. Since your fight with him, things have changed in a way you didn't think possible. The fight... you both said something that hurt and shouldn't have been said.

The real problem was the denial you were in about how you felt about Arthur. You loved him, honestly, that's what it was. You loved him more and more and every day you shoved those feelings down and told yourself I'm not good enough for him. He's had so many heartbreaks. He's not looking for love. While at the same time you also told yourself he didn't want someone like you. Someone stubborn, someone temperamental and someone who he probably saw more of as an annoying sibling and less of a romantic interest. You know what he wanted. He wanted Mary.

There was silence again. It was awful. It never bothered you until the fight. You use to sit with Arthur for hours on end, never speaking a word, just reading a book while he wilted a stick with his knife. You had to fill the silence, you wanted to talk to him. You wanted him to talk to you.

The sun was well and high into the sky now. You cleared your throat and said, "Do... You remember..." You paused to see if he was listening. You could tell he was because you saw the side of his face and ear facing you, "You remember that time when we were really young, and Hosea was teaching us how to hunt with a bow?"

"Oh yeah, I couldn't shoot an arrow worth nothin," There was a little smile on his face. You rode your horse up to match his speed.

There was a grin on your face and gave him a look, "But I could! I remember the look on Dutch and Hosea's face when I got a bullseye on my first try!"

You both chuckled, while Arthur said, "And John was being a little shit because he couldn't figure out how the hell to shoot an arrow," You remember that day fondly. 

"Dutch was so proud of us. He couldn't shut up about how his three kids were learning to hunt and shoot.... and kill," You said that last part with a little bit of regret. You've come to blame Dutch for making you the person you were. But you kept that part to yourself.

"He was. Hosea too," Arthur carried the conversation on, "They share whiskey with us for the first time too, didn't they?"

"Ha, they did!"

As the day went on and you rode on, you and Arthur shared memories of better times. Talking about the old days made you nostalgic in a bad way. It made you realize how much has changed, how much the world was changing. How much you wanted to go back in time and live there forever. Eventually, the ride came turned from open fields to trees and mountain paths. When you finally go to Big Valley you were greeted with huge meadows filled with flowers of all kinds. It was so amazing and beautiful as the flowers made waves of there own in the wind. It was like watching the water on a beach.

You chose a spot to make camp past the open fields and more into the trees. While you hitched the horses and took care of them, you watched from the corner of your eye as Arthur rolled some logs over and made a little fire pit. He was busy, so you tried to leave him be. You didn't want to force him to deal with you. While he was doing that, you started going through the bag of 'supplies' that Hosea gave you.

Sitting down on one of the logs, you until the little string holding the bag closed. You find some pretty basic things. Berries, oats, bait, can of coffee, some cans of beans... And.. Did...? Was that? Moonshine?

Really now? "That god damn bastard," You smile and mutter those words under your breath as you pull out not one, but two big bottles of moonshine.

You looked around for Arthur, wanting to tell him about this little surprise, and you find him a few feet away chopping logs in half. By... God. That was a sight to see. There he was, Arthur Morgan, in the afternoon sun. Sweating. Showing off his arms with his sleeves rolled up like that. You quickly looked away. There those feelings were again. Strong and loud. Your heart raced and you shook your head to push those thoughts away. Instead, you stared at your hands and thought... Just once you thought, what if... Arthur loved you back. It made your face heat up, it made your palms sweaty. You thought and thought and started to get scared because you knew you were only going to hurt yourself if you actually kept feeling those feelings.

"(Y/N)!"

"Huh!?" You sat up straight and looked up. Arthur was standing right in front of you, he must have been talking to you. Oh no... "What?"

"I said... What you got there?" You looked down at the moonshine he was pointing at.

"Oh... uh," You were still a little flustered from before and your brain was having a hard time catching up, "Um," You handed him one of the bottles, "Hosea must have packed it to celebrate maybe?"

Arthur cracked it open and sat down beside you on the log. You were so lost in your thoughts earlier that you didn't even notice that he had set up a tent and even got the fire going. You were surprised when Arthur started during the moonshine. He took a long swig and cringe as the alcohol burned down his throat.

When he handed the bottle to you, you asked, "Don't want to save it? You.. know... for later? After we get the buck?" He shook his head, "Why not?"

"We'll get the buck tomorrow," He said as you took a little sip of the moonshine. You waited for him to explain a little more but he never said anything.

“So..? Why did you come out here then?” You stared down at your fingers as you twisted them together. You set the moonshine down between the both of you.

Arthur just let out a little grunt and nodded his head side to side slowly, “I needed a break. From all of that.” He waved his hand in the air like you knew what he was trying to say.

It took you a few seconds but then you suddenly got, “You mean the camp?”

“Mhm,” Arthur was back to drinking more of the booze, “Everyone has been getting on my nerves lately, it’s ridiculous. I can’t stand those idiots.” He made a face that reminded you of just how much Arthur enjoys his silence and isolation from the vast majority of the world. He was a loner and a stubborn one too.

“Oh…” You said as he offered the moonshine to you and you turned it down, “Well I can…Leave.”

“Nah,” He drawled out, “I can stand you. It’s Micah… Bill. Uncle. A little bit of John too,” He paused then put the moonshine back and his face grew dark, “And Dutch.” You felt something in the air that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. You arm hairs stood up and you got a chill that ran over your skin. Arthur hunched forward resting his elbows on his knees and looked down at the ground. His hat was covering face for the most part.

He started to talk, but he got stuck on the words, “I… I know…” He stopped and cursed under his breath, “I know what you saw back in Blackwater changed you,” You didn’t really want to have this conversation right now. It bothered you that he was bringing this up again, “I know you’re not happy with the gang right now,” He took a breath and let out a heavy sigh that carried more weight than you could ever know, “And… I don’t blame you…”

His words surprised you. This was far different from the Arthur you argued with a week ago. He didn’t want to listen to you or even consider what happened in Blackwater. He blindly looked to Dutch and didn’t question his actions. Now it looks like Arthur was confused, even hurt a little.

“I’ve heard around from other people about what he did and I-” Arthurs words were cut off by the sound of gunfire incredibly close to your campsite. The both of you looked around quickly and into the trees. The evening sun painted the sky orange and white, making it a little harder to see if anyone was coming from the tree line.

The gunshots got closer and closer still and you could faintly hear shouting too. Arthur tapped your shoulder and pointed to the little creek down the hill, “Look,” You both found some cover behind a large boulder, “Someone’s being chased,”

You saw a man running for his life. He looked beat up, bloody and broken. He was screaming and stumbling every step he took. Following him close behind were a group of men on horseback.

“O’driscolls,” You muttered with malice in your voice, “Why are the O’driscolls up here too? How many of those bastards are there?”

“I don’t know, but it looks like they’re headed this way,” They killed the man they were chasing and started looting his body. You saw one of the men point in your direction. The fire! It was leaving a smoke trail for them to follow up and find you.

You looked at Arthur and he looked back to you. You shared some unspoken words and a simple nod. He ran left into the cover of some bushes and you went right and found a tree to hide behind. You pulled your revolver out and gripped the gun tight.

As the O’driscalls got closer you could hear them speaking.

“Ya think they still here?”

“They couldn’t have gotten too far,”

You peeked out and saw four men. They had walked past the bushes Arthur had hid himself in and closer to the tree you were at. The tallest O’driscoll said something about your horses and got yelled out, “We know ya still here! Come on out now or will kill ya nice and slow!”

This was it. You took a breath and calmed yourself down. You’ve done this before. No need to get nervous now. It’s just some O’driscolls, they’re nothing.

You walked out from behind your tree with your hands in the air, “I’m out!” You yelled at them. You took them by surprise and they all pointed their guns at you, “I’m out! I came out!” You slowly lowered your revolver down, “I don’t want any trouble now,”

“Well you got some trouble,” An ugly looking man pointed from you to your horses, “What about your friend? We know there are two of ya,”

“He’s hunting,” You lied coolly. Your revolver was still being lowered, “It’s just me. Take what you want,” The O’driscolls started lowering their guns too and walking closer towards you and your camp. As soon as your gun was by your side was when Arthur jumped from the bushes and gunfire cut the silence of the valley and gunsmoke filled the air.

It was an all out shoot out. You dove to the ground and took cover behind your tree while two of the O’driscolls ran off and the other two went for you. You shot at them, filling them with bullets, hoping they die slowly. Arthur had gone after the other two men while you shot down and killed the taller O’driscoll. The other one, the ugly one, was bleeding out but still hiding behind a log. He took random shots and one hit you and grazed right through your arm. You shouted out in pain and swore. You could see Arthur a few feet away beating the shit out of one of the men. He must have killed the other one.   

“Fuck! Argh!” It felt worse than it looked. There was a clean cut on your shoulder that already started to bleed, but other than that you were fine. You took a stupid risk, filled with rage and pissed out of your mind that this bastard actually nipped you, you ran out from behind your tree and straight for the O’driscoll. He didn’t even see you coming, he was busy shaking and trying to reload his gun. When he saw you, the look on his face was fear and he was crying. He started to plead with you, saying he didn’t want to do this and that hated his life as an outlaw. He even threw his gun to the side and put his hands up in the air.

Arthur had come running in and out of breath with his gun pointed at the little sad ugly man, “You gonna kill em?” He asked.

“Please! Please don’t kill me! I-I-I have… money! T-take it!” He tossed a few dollar bills onto the ground in front of your feet. You stared him down, getting closer. He was shaking like a leaf, “Look-look! You already shot me!” he did have a few bullet holes in his legs. One in his thigh and one below his knee.

“Looks like you’re already dead, don’t you think, Arthur?” You looked over to the stern man and he nodded his head.

“I’d reckon we should put him out of his misery,”

“N-no! No! Please! I-I-I-” The O’driscoll’s pleas were cut short. You shot him square between the eyes. You didn’t want to listen to him beg anymore and you’d rather get back to your campsite.

You reached down and hooked your arms under the dead man and started dragging him away, “Wanna help me get rid of the- Urgh! Shit!” You forgot you were shot and when you tried to lift the dead man your arm screamed out in hot pain.

Arthur came over and shuffled you away, “Go sit by the fire. I’ll take care of this,”

“No- I’m fine-” You tried picking up the body again but it hurt, even more, this time and it cause you to drop the body and fall with it too.

“Goddammit- Will you listen to me? You got shot for Christ's sake (Y/N)!” Arthur grabbed you by your good arm and helped you up. This was the first time you saw his face. He looked… worried? Upset? It was a mixture of many things but what stood out the most was how his brows were raised and knitted together and a sad little grimace was on his face. It was like he was the one in pain.

“I’ve been shot before,” You winced as he pulled you to your feet, “I’m fine, Arthur. It’s just a nip,” You looked to your shoulder and saw the blood stain soaking your shirt. It looked like you were still bleeding. Your sleeve was torn by the bullet so you pulled it back and gave the wound a real look. It didn’t seem that bad, just a medium-sized gash across your shoulder.

“Just go sit down, okay?”

You didn’t put up a fight anymore. You went to the campfire and sat down on a log. That moonshine looked really good right about now. You took your time swigging down have the bottle before Arthur came back. He sat down beside you an asked, “Can I see?” and gestured to your shoulder.

You nodded. He hesitated and his hand hovered over your shoulder like he was afraid of hurting you. He peeled back the clothes and started cutting the extras bits away. Arthur then reached into his satchel and pulled out some bandages.

The moonshine had started getting to your head so you found it a little funny, “You got everything in there, huh? Got any candy?”

He didn’t say anything but he went back into his satchel and gave you a chocolate bar. You burst out laughing, a little drunk, you found this absolutely hilarious. He gave you this look and raised a brow, “What on earth has gotten into you? And sit still dammit! I can’t fix you up if you keep moving,”

So you sat there drinking moonshine and chewing on some chocolate as Arthur took care of you. All those feelings you’ve been repressing started to come up again. You felt bad, guilty too. You easily feel down the trap that is the negative thoughts that can come with drinking. Arthur was almost done wrapping your shoulder when you made this sad little face.

“Arthur?” You were thinking about what he was saying earlier before the O’driscolls showed up.

“Yeah?” He didn’t look away from your arm, which was okay because you didn’t want him to catch you staring at him.

“I’m sorry…”

“Sorry?” He stopped and looked at you, to which you darted your gaze away and to the ground, “For what?”

“I’m sorry for what I said. About Dutch… and you…” You could still feel the venom and hate that you spat at him back then. You told him how Dutch was just... Not the same person anymore and how you wanted to leave the gang. That Dutch was going crazy with money and obsessed over power. You told Arthur he was a blind coward that couldn’t think for himself and depended on Dutch to keep him from becoming a sad and depressed old bag of useless shit… Just like his real father.

    You waited for him to say something, but he was silent. So you rushed to talk again, “I-I… I shouldn’t have said those things. And-... We didn’t talk for a whole week. I missed you so much, Arthur. It was just a week and I felt like I lost you forever. We’re different.”

    He finished bandaging your arm. He still stayed there sitting right beside you. You’re legs where touching and you stared at them as he started to speak, “Well,” he rubbed his chin, “I didn’t say anything nice either. I just really remember you saying you wanted to leave. I didn’t really get why. I didn’t see what Dutch did on that ferry but you did. And I was talking to Hosea, and John and everyone else. They all said things,” He paused and then shook his head, “I get it a little more now. You saw Dutch do something he said he’d never do. You saw the way he exploded and killed that woman. But I can’t have you leaving me just cause something bad happens.”

    You’re eyes shot wide open and you looked up at Arthur, “...Me?”

“I-... I mean the gang. Can’t have you leaving the gang,” He looked down at the bottle of moonshine and snatched it up from you with a grumpy looking frown on his face, “Gimme some of that.”

“You said! Me! You said ‘I can’t have you leaving me.’ That’s what you said!!” Your drunk little brain was going wild. Normally you’d sit there and keep your cool but thanks to the booze that wasn’t going to happen.

“Alright!” Arthur snapped, “I said it! So what?”

You stole the moonshine back from him to drink some more and get up to your feet, “It means you want me around!” You smiled. You felt so much better hearing that. You were so afraid before that he’d never want to be around you again.

“I guess it does,” He had a small smile twitching on his lips, “I do want you around (Y/N). You’ve been around me almost all my life, it’d be… weird if you weren’t there.”

The first bottle of moonshine was already empty, “I want you around too. I love having you around,” You felt yourself getting a little dizzy so you sat down again. Your filter wasn’t on either, the words just puked out of your mouth like it was nothing, “I love everything about you, Arthur. I never want you to leave you or leave you behind,” You said it so casually but it took Arthur by surprise.

He was looking at with question in his eyes, “What's wrong?” You asked, “Do I got something on my face?” You started rubbing the back of your hand across your mouth and cheek.

That weird look on Arthur’s face was replaced with a warm smile, then a little chuckle, then a laugh, then huge fits of loud and booming giggles. He was laughing so much that you couldn’t help but laugh at yourself. What was so funny?

Arthur cracked open the second moonshine bottle and took a large swig, “Goddammit, (Y/N). You make it so hard,” He said between sips of the bottle, “You are one of the only good things to ever happen to me and you make it so hard for me to stay away from you,” He took another sip, “I was mad. I was mad as hell about what you said last week. I wanted to stay mad at you forever. I stayed away. I did. It didn’t work. Every morning you came out of your tent all sad and heartbroken. It hurt seeing you like that. I saw you slouch around with Hosea, hiding behind him like some kid when your just as old as me,” Arthur chuckled and it made your heart skip, “But today I saw you… You didn’t look sad anymore. Just tried. Empty. I didn’t want to do that to you. I still don’t think you should leave. I don’t want you to leave. But I see it… I see that you aren’t happy here with us anymore.”

You were too drunk to really say anything meaningful. You did something bold and leaned onto Arthur and put your head on his shoulder. You weren’t one for touching others or being touched, but the moonshine was helping you do just the opposite, “I’m happy,” You mumbled, “I’m happy when I’m with you.” You could feel Arthur stiffen up at your touch and his breath hitched as you talked, “You take care good care of me. I wish we could have our own lives though,”

“How so?” He asked hesitantly.

“You know…” You were looking at the fire flicker and flash as it burned away the logs, “Just us. Our own people. We’d be normal. We’d have land, a home… maybe a dog.” Your repressed feelings and dreams started swelling up into your throat and spilling out, “Or we’d run away and go to California. Live in those red wood forests with the big trees were no one could ever find us. We don’t rob people, we don’t steal or kill. We don’t go looking for trouble and trouble doesn’t find us.”

“I wish you told me this sooner,” He sounded solemn, upset. You started to panic and look over at Arthur. Did you share too much? Did you just out your real feelings to him? Shit! Stupid! Stop drinking! This is why you don’t drink ever, not never, because you won’t shut up. You swore off the moonshine, cursing it for being a potent truth potion.

“I-I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have said that!” You hid your face behind your hands and felt the crazy blush take over. You suddenly felt a tight grip around both of your wrist and calloused hands pull them down and away from your face.

When you looked up, Arthur was right in front of you, face to face with a serious looking expression. You blushed even more and felt the need to jump away, he’s never been this close to your face before.

“Say it again,” He said. You were confused and you gaze flickered back and forth between him and that duck shaped cloud in the evening sunset, “Say how much you want me around. Say how much you want to run away with me.”

You finally looked at him and met his gaze. His eyes were locked hard onto you, searching and digging right into you. You cleared your throat and nervously said, “I… I want you around all the time. Forever. I’ve wanted to run away with you since we were kids.”

It happened so fast that you didn’t even register what was going on until it was almost over. Arthur had close the space between you both by bringing you to him and kissing you. Your heart was pounding so hard that you felt your skull throbbing. He pulled away before you even return the kiss, but there were only inches between you two.

“I’m sorry,” He started to back away, “I should have asked- I’ve.. it’s… too much moonshine-” But you grabbed him tight and pulled him back to face you.

“Do it again,” You said, just like he asked to say it again, you wanted him to do it. Not a second was wasted, Arthur scooted closer and closer until the two of you were pressed together and lip locked in a kiss that had been going on for about a minute now. He tasted like cigarettes and moonshine, not that that was a bad thing. It was almost comforting.

You were stuck together until you both needed to breathe again. Arthur had a big cheeky grin on his face, it was beyond adorable, “I’ve waited some many god damn years for that,” He confessed.

You matched his smile, though a little shyer, “Me too” you admitted, “What are we going to do for the rest of the night?” The sun had started to set a long time ago and the sky was growing darker and darker by the minute.

Arthur grabbed the moonshine again and grinned a little, “Finish this, first of all,” You made a little giggle at that. He then lifted up his arm and gave a little wave of his hand. You slid over and got comfortable so close to him as he wrapped his arm behind you, “Then, after that, we’ll see what happens,” You just couldn’t stop those smiles and giggles. He always brought out the good in you. It felt nice to finally be this close to him. To have those feelings be returned meant the world to you, it meant everything. You didn’t even plan on this happening and yet it did. Arthur would press kisses to your cheek and pull you over to steal even more. He was so starved of attention that he took it whenever he wanted. The two of you enjoyed the rest of the night by the campfire, laughing and drinking and starting a new chapter in your lives.

[under-atomic-skies]

Never Too Late

Summary:   Three years after moving to Gravity Falls, Ford gets a call from an old colleague regarding one of his patients with a fake ID who looks a lot like Ford. Could this man really be Stanley? Written as a request for Pineslover123 (AO3)

Feel free to send me requests

Warnings: implied suicide attempt

Word count: 4885

AO3

Winter was finally giving way to spring, but with the warmer weather came the storms. Stanford didn’t mind the storms all that much as he used to as a kid. There was something relaxing about listening to the sound of the rain hitting the roof or the occasional rumble of thunder in the distance. It was sometimes annoying when he had work to investigate out in the woods, but luckily he had plenty of work he could do indoors to keep him busy.

He settled himself into one of the tables near the window so he could watch the storm outside. A cup of coffee rested beside the thick, maroon book he was making notes in. On the front was a golden six fingered hand with the number 2 written in thick, black ink.

He’d moved to the sleepy, backwoods town of Gravity Falls, Oregon not three years ago. The area had drawn his attention by the unusually high reports of anomalous activity, and to his pleasant surprise, he couldn’t get much farther away from his home town if he tried. More or less, he made a home for himself here. It wasn’t homey in the normal sense as it was filled with specimens he’d found and pages upon pages of notes he’d written or read, but he’d built the home with the help of some local lumberjacks and it was his own space.

It was everything he had wanted. He’d finally found a place where a person like him could fit in.

As the heavy rain beat down on the house, he could only distantly hear the sound of the phone ringing from the kitchen. Luckily, his friend and research assistant, Fiddleford McGucket answered it.

“Hello, Pines residence,” he said into the phone. His voice, twinged with a southern accent, tang above the sound of the rain. Finally noticing there was a call, Ford turned his head towards the direction of the kitchen.

“Yes, he’s here,” Fiddleford said. There was a pause before he spoke up again, “Sure, I’ll go get ‘im. Hold on.”

Footsteps neared the front room and Fiddleford emerged from the hallway leading from the kitchen.

“Stanford,” he called from the doorway, “Ya got a phone call.”

Ford sighs quietly and shuts his book, the gold hand on the front reflecting in the overhead light. Reluctantly, he stands from his desk and approaches his friend.

“Who is it?” He asks. They didn’t usually get too many phone calls here. Usually, it was Fiddleford’s wife, or occasionally his mother that called, but if that were the case now, Fiddleford would have just said so.

“Ed something? He says he knew you back at Backupsmore.” Fiddleford reports.

The name Ed did sound somewhat familiar. It wasn’t like Ford had gotten close to anyone apart from Fiddleford, so why would he be calling?

Intrigued, Ford squeezed past Fiddleford and went to the kitchen. The phone had been set on one of the counters, and Ford wasted no time in picking up the receiver and holding it to his ears.

“Hello, this is Stanford Pines.”

“Hey Ford, it’s Ed White,” the voice on the other hand said. There was a pause as Ford tried to connect the name to where he remembered the man from. Ah, yes! Ed has taken some courses with him. Psychology or something? Ford wasn’t one to like to dabble in the softer sciences, but had taken some courses none the less.

“Ed,” Ford finally spoke up, “I wasn’t expecting a call from you.”

The other laughed a bit awkwardly, sounding almost forced, “Yeah, I wasn’t expecting this either if I’m frank.”

‘Frankly is the only way I speak’, his fathers voice suddenly rang in his head, causing him to wince.

“Was there a reason you’re calling?” Ford asked somewhat curiously.

“Yeah, about that,” the voice on the other end was a bit hesitant, “Look, I’m not sure if I’ve got the right guy, but I have a patient here that looks an awful lot like you, but he came in with what looks like a fake ID. Does the name Steve Pinington mean anything to you?”

Ford’s body stiffened at the mention of someone looking similar to him. Steve Pinington? He didn’t know anyone by that name, but the name sounded awfully similar to Stanley Pines. It also sounded like the kind of name Stan would give himself for a fake ID.

But what use would his brother have for a fake ID? They had turned 21 several years ago, so he couldn’t possibly need an ID to forge that.

“Not exactly, but Steve Pinington sounds awful close to my brothers name.” Ford replies, debating on whether or not he should hang up now. He hadn’t spoken to his brother in seven years, not since his brother had sabotaged his chances of getting into West Coast Tech.

His hand tightened around the receiver at the memory. Seven years had done little to lessen the anger and resentment Ford harbored for his twin.

His muscles were practically itching to hang up, but something stilled him. Ed has mentioned he was a patient, a patient with a fake ID none the less.

“Just what kind of trouble did my brother get himself into?” Ford asked with a sigh, pinching his nose. He didn’t have time for this. Stanley has ruined his life once. He should hang up and forget this conversation happened so he could get back to his studies.

“A lady called in to report a man passed out in his car a few days ago.” Ed began, his voice suddenly much quieter and softer. It put Ford on edge, “When the authorities got there, they found that he had taken a bunch of pills. They took him in to pump out his stomach and once he was recovered enough, he came to me.”

Ford felt like he was going to be sick. Stanley has taken pills? The stubborn part of his brain wanted to believe it was an accident, but he couldn’t ignore the nagging part of him that knew it was no mistake.

“You still there, Pines?” Ed asked.

Ford jerked out a nod, then remembered Ed couldn’t see him, “Yeah, I’m here.” He murmured quietly, “He came to you, you said. What does that mean? What do you do?”

“I’m a doctor at the Utah State Hospital. I treat the patients that come in here, and your brother is one of them. Since he had a fake ID, we couldn’t find any medical records or family to contact. I only happened to see that he looks fairly similar to you.” Ed explains patiently. Ford sits heavily in one of the kitchen chairs.

What if they had found family to contact? They would have called their parents first and what if Filbrick had been the one to pick up? Ford winced to think that Filbrick would hang up, not having a single care for the son he had kicked out of his home.

Was Ford really any better though? He had watched Filbrick kick Stan out and hadn’t lifted a finger. He’d been so angry at Stan that he hadn’t cared he’d been kicked out. He’d briefly thought about his brother over the years but told himself that Stan would be fine and dismissed the thought.

Now Ford knew for a fact that Stan wasn’t fine. He’d downed god knows how many pills in the solitude of his car. If he had died, would Ford have even known? Ed only knew to contact him because of their similarities in appearance. If Stan had died, Ed wouldn’t have been there to connect two and two together and Stan would have been thrown in a nameless grave.

The thought made Ford feel sick. Swallowing his bile, he spoke up again, not caring how his voice wavered. “I’m coming to see him.”

He found a piece of paper laying around and pulled a pen from his jacket pocket to write down the address Ed gave him. Ford estimated it would take him 12 hours (five or take) to get there and Ed said he’d be waiting.

Ford said goodbye and hung the receiver back up on the wall with a ‘click’ and finally had a moment to take everything in. Fiddleford slowly crept into the kitchen, finding Ford leaning against the wall with a hand clamped firmly over his mouth.

“Stanford?” He asked quietly, “What’s wrong?”

“My brother,” Ford forced the words out with some difficulty. The lump in his throat was making words hard to get out, “He— he tried to kill himself.”

Six fingers tightly gripped the edge of the counter. Fiddleford’s eyes widened and Ford realized bitterly that he wasn’t even sure if he ever told Fiddleford he had a brother.

“Stanford, I’m so sor—“

“I’m going to see him.” Ford cut him off, not wanting to hear his sympathies. He didn’t deserve it.

Fiddleford merely nodded. “Ok.” His voice trailed off as Ford pushed himself away from the wall and began pacing.

“Ed said he’s in Utah, which means it should take me around 12 hours to get there assuming I don’t stop,” he rattled off, mentally charting his course, “I’d have to stop for gas a few times, but if I keep it short, it shouldn’t put me back too much. But I...”

He continued to rattle off his thoughts, one hand behind his back as the other gripped his hair. He nearly jumped out of his skin as he felt Fiddleford’s hand on his shoulder.

“You can’t drive for 12 hours straight, Ford. You need to eat and sleep too.” His voice was soft, reminding Ford of their college days when Fiddleford used to remind him to nap when he’d be studying for too long.

“I can’t do that! I already failed Stanley once; I can’t keep him waiting any longer!” It was unspoken, but Ford was terrified he’d try something again.

Fiddleford’s hand squeezed, grounding Ford. “I’ll come with you, ok. We can take turns driving so you can get some sleep and we can stock up on food so we won’t have to stop.”

Ford considered his words. That would be practical, but he couldn’t ask his friend to do all of that for him.

“I dunno—“

“Stanford Pines, I think you misunderstood. That was not a suggestion. I’m not letting you drive for 12 hours in the state that you’re in. You’ll be of no use to your brother if something happens and it’s not like I have something better than helping a friend here.” Fiddleford’s words are firm and Ford knows better by now than to protest. He jerks out a nod and Fiddleford squeezes his shoulder once more before dropping his hands to his side.

“Good, now let’s pack up and hit the road.”

Twelve hours later, the pair found themselves in the lobby of the state hospital. Ford nervously fiddled with his hands as he approached the desk.

“I’m here to see Stanley Pines.”

The desk worker, a woman who looked downright bored, barely refrained from sighing as she looked through the files.

“I’m sorry, there’s no one here by that name.” She reported.  

“Oh right, try Steve Pinington.” Ford said, forgetting his brother was here with a fake ID. The woman doesn’t refrain from sighing as she looked again.

“I’ll call a nurse to take you up.”

Ford nodded and Fiddleford sat in a near by chair with Ford quickly following suit. Ford anxiously fiddled with his hands as they waited for the nurse. After a moment, Fiddleford rested his hands over Ford’s.

“It’ll be ok, Ford.” He murmurs quietly. Ford isn’t so sure, but luckily doesn’t dwell on it for long as the nurse finally arrives.

She leads the pair through the hospital halls which seem more like a maze than any planned out path. Finally, they come to a stop and the nurse finally faces them.

“He’s just returning from therapy, so he’s in this room for now. Don’t be alarmed if he doesn’t recognize you at first.” She said and promptly leaves before Ford can ask what that meant. He shared a look with Fiddleford before letting himself into the room.

The room was small with only one bed in it. A form lay on the bed, prone and still. Ford’s heart caught in his throat. Even with all the years spanning between the last time he had seen his twin and now, it was odd to see him so quiet and still. It was so different than the loud, boisterous, energetic version of his brother he remembered.

Slowly, he approached the bed, eyes drinking in the sight of his brother. His hair was longer than he remembered and wasn’t slicked back anymore. A big, bushy mustache adorned his face and Ford was distantly angry that he could sort of pull it off.

“Stanley, what happened to you?” Ford whispered. A groan sounded from Stan and his eyes fluttered open. The breath in Ford’s chest stilled as he looked at Stan, not sure how he was going to react upon seeing the brother that abandoned him at his bed side.

Stan’s eyes were glazed, almost unseeing as he blinked at Ford. There was no spark of recognition, no anger, no anything. It was as if Stan wasn’t seeing anything at all.

“Stanley?” Ford asked, reaching a hand out to take his brothers hand, noticing now that he was still restrained to the bed. The tears he had been trying so hard to keep back were welling in his eyes.

“Stan, what happened to you?”

Stan’s lips parted as if he was going to respond, but no sound came out. He stared at Ford with a dull, expressionless face. The tears were spilling down Ford’s face as he threw his arms around his brothers shoulders.

“I’m so sorry, Stan.” He whispered in his twins ears, all too aware that Stan hadn’t responded to his hug. As teens, Stan had always been the one to initiate touch, whether it was a large arm slung around his shoulder, or Stan hoisting him off his feet.

Ford couldn’t help but remind himself that Stan might not even want Ford to hug him if he was aware of what was happening. Ford hadn’t even so much as bat an eye when Stan had been kicked out. In the seven years since, he hadn’t tried to contact him once, barely even spending more than a few moments to think of Stan.

He didn’t deserve to be here for Stan now but Stan needed it. He needed someone to be there for him, and his selfish brother would have to do.

Ford wasn’t going to abandon Stan again.

“Uh, Stanford,” Fiddleford’s voice hesitantly spoke up. Ford had forgotten he was there. He released Stan from the hug as he straightened up to look at Fiddleford. The mechanic held a clip board from the end of the bed in his hands and was looking at him with a look that sent chills down Ford’s spine.

“You should take a look at his chart.” Fiddleford said, holding the clipboard out to him. Ford gulps as he reluctantly takes the board.

Ford wasn’t a medical doctor by any means but the long list of medications was concerning. God, was it even necessary to have Stan on so many medications? He was practically a vegetable by this point.

As his eyes scanned down the long list of procedures and medications, Ford’s eyes froze on one word, feeling his heart still. Suddenly, Stan’s behavior made so much sense as the words ‘ECT’ glared back at him.

“Oh God,” Ford whispered. He looked up to Fiddleford who wore a silent expression on his face. Ford turned his gaze back to Stan, still restrained and staring blankly at the ceiling.

“We’re getting him out of here.” Ford said, matter of fact. He wasn’t letting his brother sit in this hospital to be ‘treated’ any more. He remembered reading papers in college about ECT; how they were a horrific treatment option at first glance, but yielded good results in many patients.

Stan obviously wasn’t one of those patients and Ford wasn’t going to abandon him again.

“F, can you please stay with Stan whilst I talk to someone about discharging him?” Now that he had a task to do, his eyes were hard in determination. Fiddleford nodded, lips tilting in a ghost of a smile knowing what that look in Ford’s eye meant all too well.

Ford wasted no time and left the room. After taking to several orderlies, he was finally directed to the person in charge of discharge. After explaining Stan’s true identity and his relation to Ford, they began the paperwork and sent someone to help with Stan.

When Ford finally arrived at Stan’s room again, he noticed that Fiddleford had taken up place beside Stan’s bed. He was quietly murmuring something to Stan as he combed his lanky fingers through Stan’s dirty hair. Ford hadn’t gotten much of a chance to see Fiddleford interact with his son seeing as Tate was in Palo Alto, but he could tell from how he was treating Stan that he was a good father.

Certainly a much better father than Filbrick had ever been.

“They’re getting the paper work settled.” Ford said. The orderly that had led him to the room brushed past Ford, now with a wheelchair in tow. Fiddleford stepped aside as the other man wordlessly started undoing the restraints on Stan’s wrists.

Fiddleford joined Ford at his side, putting a comforting hand over Ford’s shoulder.

“Little help?” The other man spoke a few moments later as he coaxed Stan to sit up. Ford darted from Fiddleford’s side to Stan’s, helping the orderly to get him to his feet.

“Wha—?” Stan groans out, turning his head slowly, as if he was moving under water.

Ford and the orderly helped Stan shuffle a couple of steps closer to the wheelchair, “We’re getting you out of here, Stanley.” Ford replied, smiling hopefully. They lowered Stan into the wheelchair and Ford could swear he saw a hint of recognition in Stan’s eyes. Whether it was because Ford was here, or because of the change of scenery, Ford wasn’t sure and frankly, didn’t care.

For so long, he’d thought Stan’s loud, brass behavior had been so annoying— dare he even say suffocating.

Now he’d give anything just to see a shred of the Stan he used to know.

Ford took the handles of the wheelchair and nodded to Fiddleford. They left the room, following the orderly as he led them to the front door. As they stepped out into the bright sunlight, Stan flinched ever so slightly and squinted his eyes as he looked around slowly.

Not wanting to dwell in this place any longer, he wheeled Stan to the car as Fiddleford jogged ahead to open the door for him. He smiled thankful to notice that Fiddleford was offering up the front seat to Stan.

What he had done to deserve a friend like F, he didn’t know.

Together, the pair helped guild Stan to his shaky feet and lastly, into the car. As Fiddleford returned the wheelchair, Ford buckled Stan into place.

“St’nferd?” Stan asked, voice slurring syllables together. Ford’s head snapped up to see Stan slowly blinking at him with a confused expression.

“It’s me, Stan,” he said, relieved that his brother recognized him, “I’m here. We’re getting you out of here, ok?”

There was a pregnant pause before Stan jerked out a nod, resting his head back against the head rest.

Fiddleford has returned by this point and climbed to the back seat. Ford quietly shut Stan’s door and hurried to the drivers side, eager to get far away from the hospital.

Stan had fallen asleep shortly after the drive started. Fiddleford had also nodded off at some point, leaving Ford by himself at the wheel.

His brain was spinning a mile a minute, trying to figure out the next course of action. They’d have to clear out some space for Stan to sleep in. He also supposed he’d have to figure how to get Stan’s car back at some point. What was trickier was figuring out how to help Stan.

He wasn’t a fool to think that simply being there for Stan now and offering him a place to stay was going to fix all of his problems. Ford was terrified of the idea that Stan would try anything again. He owed it to Stan to do things right by him.

He doubted that Stan would consider talking to a professional, and like hell he was going to let Stan be admitted to another hospital. Maybe he could find someplace reliable to get Stan some medication that wouldn’t make him catatonic.

A groan from beside him broke the silence in the car. Ford’s gaze briefly flickered to Stan before darting back to the road.

“How’re you feeling, Stan?” Ford asked softly, occasionally darting his eyes to Stan.

There was still a glazed look in his eyes, but rather than looking like he wasn’t seeing anything, he looked like he was waking up from a deep sleep.

“Uh, I feel like I’ve been hit by a bus.” Stan groans, adjusting in his seat sluggishly. His voice is still somewhat slurred, but it’s infinitely better than he was before.

“I imagine you’ll feel like that for a bit longer until all the drugs in your system wears off.” Ford said. His voice drops timidly as he continues, “Stan, I— I don’t know where to even start. I’m just— I don’t— I’m sorry.”

Stan’s looked at him, a tired look of surprise on his face, and Ford couldn’t help but smile softly. “Ok, ok, maybe now’s not the best time for this.”

Stan blinks slowly, “Where are we?”

Oh, right. “We’re in my car. My friend and I came to get you when we caught news that you were here. We’re on our way back to my home in Oregon; there’s about nine hours left in our trip.” Ford briefly wondered if there was any more relevant information to add but decided to wait until Stan was a bit more alert.

Stan looked back towards the road, not saying anything. Ford reached a hand over, covering Stan’s hand in his. As he glanced over, worried if it was ok, he saw a ghost of a smile on Stan’s lips as he closed his eyes, drifting back asleep.

Hours later, Fiddleford pulls down the winding drive way leading to their house. He had switched seats with Ford at some time during the trip, and Ford has fallen asleep promptly afterwards. Luckily, Stan stayed asleep for the rest of the line.

As Fiddleford saw the house coming into view, he reached a hand back, tapping Ford’s knees. From the mirror, he saw Ford’s eyes blink open.

“We’re home,” Fiddleford reported with a smile.

The car rolled to a stop near the porch. The sound of seat belts unclicking and doors opening woke Stan up, who looked around at his new surroundings with confusion.

Ford was at his door in a moment, a timid smile on his face.

“Welcome Home, Stanley.”

Stan’s eyebrows were bunched in confusion. He certainly seemed more aware now then previously seeing as the drugs had at least 12 hours to work its way out of his system.

Ford offered him a hand, “Let’s go inside. We can get you something to eat, and i can explain any questions you have.”

Stan lifted a hand, hanging it in between the two of them for a moment, hesitating before taking Ford’s hand. Getting to his feet still took effort, but whether it was because of the effects of the drugs, or from being crammed in a car for 12 hours was unclear.

Slowly, the twins made their way through the lawn to the porch. Ford paused to unlock the door before throwing it open for them. He led Stan to the kitchen, helping him sit down in the chair.

“What can I get you to eat?” Ford asks.

Stan merely shrugs.

“It’s been at least 12 hours since you’ve eaten anything; you gotta eat something.” Ford says.

Stan doesn’t look up from his hands resting on the table. Ford continues, to babble on about food, starting to fidget his hands.

“I don’t want food, Ford.” Stan cuts him off, sounding exasperated. Ford doesn’t seem to notice apart from getting more fidgety.

“But you have to—“

“I want answers, Stanford,” Stan finally bites out. His hands are clenched tight into fists. Ford falls still, looking at his twin with an owlish expression, “You bring me here, acting like nothing ever happened between us, doting on me like I’m an invalid. I just don’t— I don’t get it!”

Ford sighed and sits down across from Stan heavily.

“You kinda were,” Ford replied in a whisper, “You didn’t see how you looked, Stan. It was terrifying to see you like that. You weren’t... you.”

Stan crosses his arms over his chest, “How would you know if I wasn’t acting like me, huh? It’s been seven years, Ford. You didn’t give a shit about me in any of that time until now.”

Ford winced. He had a point. Wringing his hands, he shut his eyes tightly for a moment. “I was wrong.”

Stan’s jaw dropped, looking at him with a look of shock as if he never expected Ford to admit he was wrong. Ford continued.

“I was so wrong, Stan. About a lot of things. I shouldn’t have stood aside and let Pops kick you out. I should have heard you out, or tried to find you, but I was so angry, stupidly so, that I convinced myself that you were ok. I—“ Ford broke off, covering his face with his hands, “I wouldn’t have been able to forgive myself if you had—“ his voice trailed off, not able to finish that sentence.

Stan’s demeanor changed completely as Ford broke down in tears. “Woah, woah, relax, Sixer.” Stan replied. He pushed himself to his feet, kneeling beside Ford’s chair as he put a hand on his brothers shoulder. Ford peaked out from behind twelve fingers, eyes wet with tears.

“You called me Sixer.” He whispers pitifully, earning a chuckle from Stan.

“Uh, yeah.”

Ford frowns, “What happened to us? How did one stupid fight ruin how close we used to be?”

Stan was silent, having wondered that question many times himself over the years. Ford reached out, gripping Stan’s hand on his shoulder with a desperate grip.

“Stan, I’m sorry. I know I messed up so much in the past, but please let me be there for you now. I don’t want to lose my brother again.”

Stan sighed, his free hand rubbing the back of his neck. “You don’t want that, Sixer. You’ll just get tired of me eventually; you just feel sorry for me now.”

Ford shook his head, “No, Stan, I swear I won’t, but, uh, if you really think that way, why don’t we at least take it one day at a time, ok? Just give me a chance to make it up to you. I want us to be brothers again.”

It was Stan’s turn for his eyes to well up with tears. He pointedly looked away from Ford, biting his bottom lip. Ford rested his hand on Stan’s shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze.

After a moment, Stan looks back to Ford, soft smile on his lips, “I’ve missed you, Sixer.”

“I’ve missed you too, ya knucklehead.”

“Just, uh, just ‘cause we’re having a moment here, your project really was a mistake. I would never intentionally ruin something I know was so important to you.”

Ford smiled softly, “I know that now, Stan. I should have realized that back then.”

Stan’s shoulders seemed to sag with relief. He and Ford share a moment as they look at each other, hopeful expressions on their faces.

Finally, Ford gets to his feet, helping Stan up with him.

Once they were standing, Stan wraps his arms around Ford, pulling him into a tight hug. Ford didn’t hesitate as he flung his arms around his twin, glad to finally feel his twins arms around him once again, to confirm that Stan really was here and was ok.

They linger in a hug, until they at last reluctantly pull away.

“Now,” Ford says as he makes Stan sit back down, “You really should eat something. How does some soup sound?”

Stan opens his mouth but is promptly cut off by a loud rumble from his stomach. There is a moment of silence before the brothers both start giggling together.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Ford laughs, pulling a can of soup from the cabinet. Stan’s laughter bubbles back down to quiet chuckles.

Fiddleford eventually joins them, sitting across the table from Stan with a warm smile. For the first time in years, he feels lighter, hopeful even. His future was still uncertain, but it was a hell of a good place to start.

With his brother by his side, they were capable of taking on anything the world could throw at them.

[turtle-steverogers]

You’re Literally Not Dying

it’s sad boy hours take some bad ralbert content im sorry idk where my usual writing vibes been

i actually wrote this for my gf cuz she wanted a sickfic cuz she’s sick rn rip her

warnings: nothing but race is a whiny bitch when he’s sick

ships: ralbert

editing: nope

Albert rubbed his eyes, letting out a frustrated sigh as he tried to focus his gaze on his computer. He’d been at the library studying for his neuro exam for five hours already and his joints were well beyond stiff. His usually sharp focusing skills were shotty and as his stomach growled audibly, he began to wonder if maybe it was time for a break. He idly picked up his third coffee cup and groaned internally when he discovered that the bitter liquid was now cold. Maybe he’d go get a fresh one from the coffee shop downstairs, and while he was at it, he could pick up a sandwich or something. Yeah, that sounded good.

All his plans were quickly squashed when his music cut out and his phone began to buzz on the table next to him. He glanced at the caller ID and found his boyfriend, Race’s, face staring back at him.

Not bothering to keep the tiredness out of his voice, he picked up, resting his chin on his hand, “Hey, what’s up.”

He immediately straightened up when what sounded like a coughing fit blared through the speakers, “Race?” he asked, his tone alarmed, “You okay?”

“Al,” Race’s raspy voice came through the speaker, “I’m dying.”

Albert resisted the urge to roll his eyes, “I doubt you’re dying, Racer, but do you need me to pick up some medicine for you? What hurts?”

“Everything.”

This time, Albert did roll his eyes at his boyfriend’s dramatics, “Want soup?”

There was a pause, then, “French onion?”

“Baby, you hate French onion soup,” Albert reasoned.

“Yeah, but my stomach is begging for it,” Race said.

“Are you going to eat it?” Albert asked, “because I’m not going to buy it if you’re not going to eat it.”

“I promise I’ll eat it,” Race pleaded, “Pretty please?”

“Alright, I’ll get you some french onion soup. Anything else?”

“Um,” He could envision Race scrunching his nose on the other side- something he always did when he was in thought, “Some apple juice maybe?”

“French onion soup and apple juice. Got it,” Albert said, tucking his phone between his ear and shoulder as he began to pack up his things, “I’ll be back within the hour, keep drinking fluids.”

“Thanks Alcatraz,” Race said, “I love you.”

“I’m only letting the fact that you called me fucking ‘Alcatraz’ go because you’re sick,” Albert said, hoisting his bag onto his back and slipping his laptop under his arm, “I love you, too, I’ll see you in a bit.”

“Kay, bye,” Race hung up and Albert pocketed his phone. He threw his many coffee cups into the trashcan on his way out of the library and made his way across the street to the campus convenient store.

He was able to find the apple juice easily and found several pre-packaged Panera soups not long after. At first it looked like they only offered broccoli cheddar and chicken noodle, but after some shifting around, he was able to find a singular cup of french onion. On his way to check out, he picked up some sudafed and theraflu for good measure, along with a couple disposable thermometers. The line to check out was annoyingly long, but within ten minutes, he was leaving the shop with a singular bag in hand. He put his hood up to combat the cold winds that had been blowing through campus in the past week and began his trek to the bus stop. The bus was already there when he approached and he jogged in order to make it on, briefly flashing his student card to the bus driver on his way to find a seat. The bus was abnormally crowded, but the journey to his apartment complex was fairly short, so Albert opted to stand. Upon arrival, the bus driver pulled up to the very front of the building, saving Albert from the prospect of having to walk through the snow that had begun to fall during the ride. He thanked the driver profusely and hurried inside, taking the elevator up to his and Race’s floor.

When he entered his apartment, it was obvious that something was off. All the lights were off and the shades were drawn. Race wasn’t at his usual place on the couch and it looked like he hadn’t gone to any of his classes considering his shoes were in the same position they had been when he left. Albert frowned, wracking his brain for any signs that Race had been sick that morning before he’d left. He had seemed fine, all things considered. But then again, Albert hadn’t really checked and Race had been half-asleep.

He kicked off his own shoes and shed his jacket, placing his backpack on a chair in the living room on his way to the kitchen, where he quickly heated up the soup and poured a tall glass of apple juice. He grabbed a water bottle from the fridge and crossed the hall to his and Race’s shared bedroom. He knocked lightly before entering and softened slightly when he took in his boyfriend, propped up on the pillows with his eyes closed.

“Hey,” he whispered and Race blinked open his eyes groggily, “I brought you the soup you wanted. How’re you feeling?”

Race reached out for the soup and Albert handed it to him, sitting on the edge of the bed as he did so. He placed a comforting hand on Race’s knee as he sipped the soup straight from the plastic cup, abandoning the spoon Albert had offered him.

“M’achey, and m’head hurts and my throat feels like someone took a fork to it and my tummy feels all weird and m’pretty sure I passed out earlier,” Race rambled, through a mouthful of onion, “But I’m fine, how are you?”

Albert hummed apologetically and motioned for Race to scoot over, then slipped under the blankets next to him. Race immediately curled into his side, “I’m sorry you got so sick, love.”

Race groaned, “Me too, it sucks. I wish I weren’t.”

“Here,” Albert said, opening a packet of the theraflu and handing Race a tablet, “Take one of these. That should help with some of the acheyness and the headache and throat ache and stuff.”

Race washed down the tablet with some apple juice, then fixed Albert with an apologetic look, “Hey, Al?”

Albert knew what was coming and bit back the urge to sigh, “You don’t want the soup, do you?”

Race shrugged sheepishly, “I do, but my tastebuds don’t.”

“That’s fine,” Albert said, taking the cup from him and putting it on the bedside table, “Finish your apple juice, though.”

Race wordlessly chugged the rest of the apple juice and handed the empty glass to Albert, who placed it next to the soup.

“M’tired,” Race declared, laying his head on Race’s chest.

“Wanna sleep?” Albert asked, subconsciously running a hand through Race’s curls. Race nodded and Albert pressed a kiss to his head.

“Alright, want me to stay?”

“I mean, yeah,” Race said, “We’re literally cuddling, would I kick you out?”

“Sometimes I don’t know with you,” Albert said, defensively, “But of course I’ll stay. Sleep now, we’ll take your temperature when you wake up. I love you.”

He could feel Race smiled against his shirt, “I love you, too.”

-

thanks for reading, chiefs

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[jujywrites]

WIP Challenge

I got tagged by @kikithedeceiver to do this!

Challenge: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous.

Here’s the thing. I don’t have many separate WIP files; most of them are in one huge doc. and most of the separate wip files are... pretty dead? but ok whatevs. under a read more since it’s long...... and my ego won’t let me skip snippets hjkhkhk thanks for the idea Kiki

From my main miscellaneous folder:

50 Grades of Steele. 1 and a half chaps of a role-flipped 50 Shades of Grey rewrite (i haven’t read the books so I extra don’t care about the characters lol). why do i still have it i’ve lost interest.... *side eyes her entire wip ecosystem* ...Then I see my interview subject, seated at her desk.

"Mr. Grey. I'm pleased to meet you."

And I stop breathing. [end CH1]

[open CH2) I forgot to mention something: I exaggerate occasionally. But I'm not now. I literally stop breathing for a few seconds. A thousand thoughts are racing through my mind, which doesn't help my chest stop seizing, but the main problem here is that Anastasia Steele is quite possibly the most beautiful woman I've ever seen.

Fanfic idea masterlist. my most active file and where I keep most of my WIPS, unless they get too “large”. Organized by fandom. lotta stuff i keep passing by & may as well be dead but don’t wanna delete. here’s a zero-draft snippet of probably the next chapter of my G-rated yukyoru fic collection

He grabbed a pillow and placed it to his chest, grabbed her arm, and yanked her to him, praying his idea would work.

Seconds passed and he didn't transform. He put his arms around her gingerly. Should he try to immobilize her or would that make it worse?

She made the decision for him. "Mom," she sobbed, clutching him with an iron grip. "N-Need to help...!"

His stomach dropped to his shoes.

Thudding footsteps announced Yuki's arrival. "What's wrong?! Honda-san--"

He didn't say "What did you do?" The thought raced by and Kyo said, "Grab a pillow and help me!"

As Yuki positioned the pillow and himself without having to ask, Kyo said, "She won't wake up. I don't know what to do!"

"Night terror," Yuki said tightly. He was too close but it almost didn't matter. "Not much you can do besides wait."

MayxWard BDSM fic agents of SHIELD. mix of notes and actual writing. kind of a half AU. Melinda climbed into the driver's side and buckled in, then started up the car. "If you've not ridden on the left before you might have motion sickness. It's normal. Just close your eyes until—" She paused as she looked at him; his hands shook so much he couldn't manage the seatbelt. "Here, let me."

"Thanks," he muttered with a sigh, looking rueful.

Modern AU Zelink. What it says on the tin~ Teenage-ish Zelink, with a mash of supporting characters from other games. another mix of notes and fic. Link wasn't sleeping tonight. Tonight was the night he'd been planning for and awaiting for weeks. He was going on a quest: the quest to meet Princess Zelda. 

She wasn't really a princess, of course. That was just her nickname. Zelda Nohansen was Hyrule's sweetheart, the most sought-after young actress in the movie business. And Link had fallen in love with her the first time he'd seen her, two years ago in a tiny theater in Kakariko.

PMMMfic homumado. Madoka Magica. AU, been around since about an hour after I finished the series (5 years yikes, still gotta watch Rebellion). Homura's time power still somewhat involved, but Mami's an adult, everyone's at a boarding school (I think?) where ~things aren't as they first seem~ and Madoka has mysterious powers and night terrors. just notes at the moment.

SoubixHitomi.  Loveless. 3 unfinished/dead first-person Shinonome-senseixSoubi snippets, all of ‘em spicy.

yvy abo. Yuri On Ice. Yuri (Katsuki!!)/Victor/Yuko(!!?!), my attempt at. well. omegaverse(!!!!!!!). orignally started as part of a “bad YOI fic” bigbang and now I’m taking it seriously dgdgfg. Alpha Yuko. “Please, please stop,” she whispered, like saying it aloud would make any difference. But the pressure in her head kept building. Her limbs had begun to itch restlessly.

And Victor wouldn’t let go of her hand.

With the last scrap of her control, she straddled him quickly and kissed him awake.

Even in half-sleep he arched to meet her, and when he opened his eyes sapphire blue had already turned stormy with lust.

yvy canonfuturefic. Yuko-focused following of canon, or: how canon can I keep YOI while still rareship OT3ing it. She and Yuri fall in and out of love, in between falling for Victor. Victuri is still my life I swear   

“You have got to watch this,” she tells Yuri. She watches Yuri’s face instead of the video, having seen it at least forty times by now.

Yuri’s eyes transform into beacons of awe, and Yuko swallows around her rapid heartbeat, breaths coming too short. She sees everything she’s feeling and more on his face. She remembers that she loves him, that he’s real and here and more important than the beautiful boy on her phone who’s trying to pull her under to a scary new world.

ZnT ot3 bdsm AU. Zankyou no Terror, 9/12/Lisa. mix of notes and fic, not just PWP. in heavy need of editing bc a lot was inspired by a non-spicy book.

“But it’s not just me. It’s everyone. You need everyone because you have no idea how to need yourself. Or even how to be yourself.”

“You’re wrong.” The force and volume of her voice shocked her and pushed her onward. “You and Touji. I don’t need anyone except you and Touji! Because you both taught me how to be myself-- no, how to find that on my own. I know exactly who I am, and that me isn’t complete without both of you!” She could feel the tears streaming down her face, yet somehow her voice didn’t waver. She felt so full of conviction she could burst into flames. “Don’t you understand, Arata? We’re all meant to be together.”

From my SnK folder:

Cave of the Crystal Maiden (working title). Aruani. Modern AU. MMORPG shenanigans with a dollop of magical realism/supernatural. Just notes. @portraitofa-girl suggested “meeting online” and it’s been there literally for years oh lord im sorry. no fic yet, just notes.

Falling Anthem (working title) Modern AU Levihan, art student Hange and young professor Levi. just notes. fic one in a planned series. also has been years ;_;

Raindrops and Soft Steps. Jearmin. unsurprisingly, modern AU. One morning, when Jean looks out of his bedroom window, he sees a boy dancing across the street. In the street, to be exact. There wouldn't be anything unusual about that, Jean supposes, except it's raining cats and dogs outside.

In my IAMXfic folder (fff i almost skipped this):

2ndPOVCalberto (DO NOT CORRUPT WITH HET) ChrisxAlberto? not much to say?? yes i know they’re real people??? which applies to everything after this oh my god *crawls under desk* Of course she knows; she is annoyingly perceptive when it comes to romance. The only thing preventing you from asking her (like a fucking lovestruck teenager) if Alberto likes you back is emptying that beer bottle. By then the only thing on your mind is ordering another.

CalbertImmi. i can’t even keep my poly shit outta RPF ahaha omhg Imogen has a conversation with her lover's lover. (AlbertImmi, sequel to...) Imogen finds herself in an unenviable position. (emerging CalbertImmi)

Alternate summaries (CC POV, first fic?): Chris loves two people. He doesn't want to choose. Chris has fallen in love a few times in his life. But he's never fallen for two people at once. (Chris also isn't good at choosing.)

ChrisxJ. several self-insert fics bc CC is just that powerful, apparently. haven’t looked at the file in a long time,,,,,

He started calling people to the stage with him, and one by one, my row emptied.

"Come on, yeah, come on," he was saying, waving his hand in an inviting gesture and grinning like a little kid. "Hey, you want to?" I did a double take.

"Me?" I mouthed, pointing at myself just to be sure. He nodded, smiling wider.

So it was that I walked unsteadily down the ramp and waited in line, feeling like I didn’t belong there. Soon I was next in line. What would I say? What would I do? I was sure if I opened my mouth I’d either burst into tears or faint.

Genderswapped IAMX sci-fi. The sci-fi was inspired by a word prompt, genderswapping by my own brain. (play spot the Immi lmao) Across the aisle, Sam rolled his eyes. “Leave Chris alone; she’s nervous.”

“And put on your own seatbelt, Johann,” shouted Jess, two seats back and in Sam’s aisle.

Patrick turned  to look at Chris. “Subspace travel is a bitch,” he said simply, and turned back to his book.

“Oh, I feel much less nervous now,” Chris said with a sardonic grin. “How do you know that, anyway?”

"I'm not exactly what I seem to be." He didn’t look up.

Chriimmi (While I Was Gone inspired). Chris/Imogen, inspired by scenes from Sue Miller’s While I Was Gone.

"You really ought not to do that, you know," he said softly.

"Do what?"

"Sneak up on me."

My eyes slid from his face. "I didn't mean to. It just... happened."

"Mm." I glanced back at him; he wore a lopsided smile. "Not that I minded." The tension was so strong the air nearly vibrated with it, yet I held my tongue, terrified that I was the only one feeling it. He took a breath, deep, nearly rising on his toes. "No. I didn't mind at all." He took my hand, circled his thumb over the back. My breath caught as I felt it, as I watched him looking down at our hands.

Chriimmi bathtub dream. dream inspired Chris/Immi smut.

Chriimmi twitter. twitfic plus some, inspired from an actual tweet iamx made that i’m still not over. 

@ imogenheap Come sing your lovely lyrics with us in London. @ IAMX misses you. CCx

ChrisxImmi main. grab bag of Chriimmi I was too lazy to put into separate docs.

“What do you think?” She grinned, twirling.

He cleared his throat. “Ah, I-Imogen, what are you wearing?”

“Well, I didn’t want to clash with your theme…  Janine helped me. Does it work?”

Scandalously short skirt, midriff-baring top, knee-high boots.

“You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you? You’re trying to fucking kill me.”

Her grin only widened, even though a blush had started.

Fic edit chriimmi ver. yeah. editing someone else’s original fic to be chrimmi. either never posting or editing the frick out of. ~_~

He kissed her neck, whispered into it, “I love you.”

Imogen laughed. “Bollocks,” she said lazily.

”I do!” Chris protested. She looked down at him, nestled on her shoulder. He looked back, open, a little adoring. “I fell in love with you halfway through the show; I sang every note just for you.”

”Oh, please. You couldn’t have seen me.”

”No,” he said. “But I knew you were out there… I knew it had been you the minute I saw you backstage.”

Hospital Chriimmi. In which my guilty feeling over RPF are even worse bc of the inspiration ^_^U “Ms. Heap. What a pleasant surprise.” It’s surprising, how well she remembers his voice.

“Mr. Corner, what have you got yourself into?”

“Oh, just a bit of lingering insomnia. You know how it is.”

She takes a seat in the chair near his bed, crossing her legs. “Well, I’ve certainly had a sleepless night here and there, but I’ve never ended up in hospital from it. So no, I don’t suppose I do know.” Her tone is light, but her smile has begun to crack.

ImmixChris genderbend smut. the my secret friend video is... fertile material. have not actually written the smut yet.

...he saw us as characters– we put on those clothes and become separate from ourselves, removed. Whereas I simply felt like myself in men’s clothes, and instead of feeling what He felt for Her, I just kept right on feeling what I felt for Chris, amplified to a distracting level.

ReluctantdommeImmixSubCC. ...shrug emoji? notes and uh. visualizing.

Vampire Chriimmi. based on a dream. smutty. inspired by True Blood so wow that’s old.

From my Markipairings folder:

demon dream. markiplier self insert...... ughhhhhhhh o///o

"You can have me," I tell the creature. "But this one," I jerk my head toward Mark, "comes with me. He's mine, you see." A bold proclamation to make, but in the moment I know that the truth in those words surpasses everything I've ever said. He is mine, and saying the thought out loud fills me with courage. He squeezes my hand, two short and a long one so strong I think he might break it.

I know we’ll win.

DommeJujY. same as above, same as the next four. smutty.

Fight team AU. i forget where i got this one from. vaguely inspired by loveless i guess.  The first clear thought I had was, He shouldn't have gone ahead of me. The second one was, I should have been able to protect him. But these came later, after the rage went away, after I hugged him and apologized, after I bandaged him…

Gaming meetcute. i win some contest or whatever to secretly tagteam w/ Mark. stuff happens and yeah......

The adrenaline surges through my veins as I take in the scene. Mark's avatar is flailing around, backed into a corner by some Eldritch Abomination and holy shit, the graphics in this game are amazing.

"This is not good, I can't move, I can't move…"

There's a voice in the back of my head screaming to shut the game down, to get that horrible thing off the screen. I ignore it.

Markinpanties. .......smut.

shifter-slight sci-fi AU. shrug emoji.

I looked up from the ground and saw I was heading straight for a brick wall. There was no time to slow down. I braced for impact...

It didn't happen. I opened my eyes and found myself in a café.

What.

Looking behind me, I saw a door. On impulse I walked over and opened it; the tree-lined street I could see through the glass was indeed there. No brick wall to smack my face into. Bewildered, I turned around and looked for a seat, choosing one near a window.

Gouldiplier~. master doc of ficbits of my cracky mccrackship, MarkiplierxEllie Goulding.

I check my phone during break time again. My selfie has been liked and retweeted thousands of times, and I shake my head in disbelief; I don't think that will ever stop surprising me, deep down. To make things even better, Mark's liked it! I'm in the middle of a happy jig when I realize there's a text from him and a squeak of joy slips from me.

hellooo gorgeous

looks like you're having fun. Hope the shoot's going great! <3

I quickly send a reply. it has been. Be glad when it's done tho. Missin u lots xo

Markipicbunnies. fanart of Mark for Gouldiplier insipration. photographer au. 

"Ms. Goulding, I'm really not sure about this…"

"I produce pictures that are intimate because I'm an intimate being, Mark." Ellie looked at him directly, a hint of a smile shaping her lips. "Deep down, I think you are too. We just need to draw you out a bit."

showersexgouldiplier. WELP. IT’S SMUT.

Also I have folders for my 2010/11 nanowrimo novel that are kinda still WIPs but also kinda not

i’m gonna tag.... @kippielovesyou @kiridork and @mistergrass and anyone else who wants to do this can too :3

[saintkimora]

well i finally found time to type this all up so! here is the story of how last last friday and saturday night went (not the ones from this weekend but the weekend before so like a week and a half ago). it isnt really a nice story but it is significant. first part is tristan then joel then tristan again, the tristan parts are good but the joel part is pretty bad. this is only part 1 btw! sorry @ that one anon a few days ago bc this might make you even more mad lmao

first part: tristan! so on friday i was in the library holding an online eboard meeting for gsa and tristan (the first guy i talked to for a while then hooked up with like 2 years ago and last christmas eve) was apparently studying in nexus which is the building next door to the library. and he sent me a snap (it was clearly the type you send to a lot of people it wasnt like an individual one) of him captioned i hate studying so i sent him one saying i hate planning events bc thats what i was doing. so we snapped back and forth for a while and then the library closed so i was leaving and he was like “come say hi to me in nexus” so i was like ok! 

so i went and sat across the table from him and we talked for like an hour and a half and it was so nice! hes v good to talk to but our conversation dynamic was kinda similar to me and joel’s dynamic so that was interesting. he called me my voice cute at the beginning bc i was like “sorry if i sound weird im a little congested today” and he was like “no you sound like you always do, its cute” so i was like hm so then we talked and caught up and it was very good conversation! then at one point after asking how i was in general he was like “so how are you doing....romantically” and i told him how i was with someone rn but i was kinda having some issues and he was like oh ok and i asked him and he said hes looking but its hard bc people keep ghosting him so i was like aw :/ (but on the inside i was like well thats what you get for ghosting me all those years ago lmao) 

also at one point i told him i go to the gym now so i have a little bit of muscle and he was like “yeah haha sure” and i was NOT about to take that so i was like “i can show you right now if you want” (i was wearing a tank and a zip up hoodie) so i took off one hoodie sleeve revealing my arm and i flexed and he was shook he was like “oh wow you werent kidding, thats actual progress” and i was like ha

after an hour and a half he had to go meet his friends or something so i went home. overall it was super nice! i loved talking to him so later that night i just sent him a nice text thanking him for spending time w me and saying how much i enjoyed it and then he thanked me for keeping him company and said he really enjoyed catching up so that was nice! then later that night things took a turn for the worst.....

so at this point it was friday night and joel and i were texting as usual, we were having a nice convo and were making jokes and what not. then after i asked about his day he texted me this “its fine but i just got another fucking email from slut A and im over it” and i was like “slut A......” and he was like “fucking tinamarie” (the girl who always causes trouble for his theatre club that gets him really pissed off even though it really isnt that serious) and i was like “yeah i figured but did you really need to call her that” and he was like “if youre literally gonna criticize every single word i say then im just gonna stop talking” so then i apologized like 3 times but he left me on read and didnt talk to me for the rest of the night

so! the second i read that final text i had like......a panic attack? or something? idk but it was a mess i got soooooooo cold instantly like i put on sweats socks a hoodie and 2 blankets and i was still trembling and my teeth were chattering so hard i couldnt even talk bc it just came out as gibberish and my toes were numb and my heart was beating fast and you know all that good stuff. i texted several hunties but none of them answered so i decided to text tristan! he was v nice and he comforted me and talked me through it which i appreciated. but like getting that text reminded me so much of the texts i would get from caleb so it just made all those feelings come rushing back and it was v overwhelming but i wasnt about to call joel about it bc he was already mad at me and i was scared i was gonna make it worse

about an hour later i sent him a long text saying how sorry i was bc he wanted to vent to me and i shut him down when i shouldve just taken his side and stuff bc i wanted to try to fix the situation. half of it was lies though like i was not sorry for what i did at all bc he should not be calling this tinamarie girl that! he didnt read that text until the next morning but even after he didnt respond. he was def still awake when i sent it though bc i saw him active on fb messenger slightly afterwards. anyways the next day tristan texted me again to check on me and see if i heard from joel which i hadnt by that point but i really appreciated that he went through the effort of doing that! joel and i had plans to go to the mall that day so i texted him around 4pm (this is saturday now) saying i hope his auditions went well and asking if he wouldve still liked to go to the mall w me. he said he wasnt feeling up for it bc hes tired and i was like not up for the mall or not up for me and he was like just the mall, you can come over instead. so i went over and brought him popeyes bc he was hungry and we hung out and watched dragula and talked and it was like a completely normal day so i was a little surprised he didnt bring up the events of last night. so like 3 eps into dragula s1 i asked him if he could pause it so we could talk so he did and this is where things got worse

so i was like “so....how are you feeling about what happened last night?” and he was like “well it was fucking annoying because i wanted to vent to you and you tried to school me, im already socially conscious, i know its wrong but it was the first thing that came to mind at the time” and i was like “well if you are mad at a woman and your first instinct is to call her that then that might be a problem” and he was like “can i be a fucking human?” like ???????????????? the STUPIDEST excuse like that makes no sense! you can be human without saying misogynistic things like.....annoying. he just had soooo many excuses he was like “oh its ok bc i would never actually say that to her face” like...ok great to know that being socially conscious is just a performative thing for you! if you only do it in public but are still problematic in private then like...whats the point

he was also like “it may seem like a small issue that isnt important to you but her emails are actually a huge problem. YOU wouldnt know since your organization isnt as involved, but her actions affect every area of the organization so its stressful to deal with her” like heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeereeeee we go again idk why he always tries to drag my gsa for no reason. i didnt even say he couldnt be stressed or angry with her i just said he shouldnt call her what he did! 

so now for when it got personal. so i told him i was like “i know you were mad and wanted to cool off so i wasnt gonna force you to talk to me, but it wouldve been nice if you just sent me a text like ‘oh perry im mad and dont wanna talk rn, i need some space ill talk to you later’ instead of just ignoring me for the rest of the night” and he was like “well i didnt have time i had too much going on with the organization” and i was like “i mean it takes 10 seconds to send a text” and he was like “well i didnt want to” OH so now the truth comes out! and then he was like “i was already stressed out with the email so then its like ‘oh now i have to deal with perry too’” and like..............that was really hurtful bc literally the main reason i rarely ever bring up any issues i have to him is bc hes already so stressed with everything else and i want to be a source of happiness in his life not another source of stress so im afraid to bring things up bc i dont want to add to his stress and be another thing that he has to “deal with” so like, he literally vocalized the exact reason im afraid to talk to him about these things so its just confirmed my suspicions and now i feel even worse about bringing up any issues i have with him 

i didnt tell him about the panic attack yet but i did say “well i mean im sure you can tell i was upset, since i sent you a long ass apology text an hour after the convo ended. and if it was the other way around and i knew you were upset about something i said i wouldve dropped everything and called you right away to fix the issue” and he said.............. “well im not gonna prioritize you” like.... !!!!!!!!!!!!! ok!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! great! we already knew i was at the bottom of his priority list but at least now he basically admitted it :/ i was just like well ok

that is the end of part 1 bc im splitting up this post lol

[nh935]

Creepy America Episode 6: Myths & Legends

Creepy America Episode 6 Myths & Legends Clifton, Virginia

I had a roommate in college, Jonas something-or-other, who tried to get me interested in Dungeons and Dragons. The idea was that you’d make up a character with all these different abilities and stats and whatnot and someone running the game would tell you what was happening and you were supposed to tell them what you wanted to do. Then you’d use some dice and the numbers on paper to figure out if you were successful.

I never really got into it, it was just too strange, but one of the things that was interesting to me was the stats. They were numbers to determine your characteristics, things like Strength, Dexterity, and so on, and there was one for Intelligence and one for Wisdom. Intelligence was supposed to be your regular smarts, like math and history, but Wisdom was your street-smarts, your gut, and it let you do things like notice things in the background and tell if someone was lying.

I liked that, and I feel like it describes the difference between me and Zoey. Zoey wasn’t the smartest; whenever she didn’t understand something, she came to me, and that happened often. But she was wise. It was Zoey who could tell when someone was lying, when something was out of place, and when things weren’t right. If there was something spooky going on, she picked up on it way faster than I did, and to this day I believe that’s why some people can walk through haunted locations and feel nothing while others see shadows and hear screams. Some people are just better attuned. If that truly is the mechanism behind sensitivity to the supernatural, then Zoey was certainly much wiser than I. Virginia alone proved that.

***

We entered Clifton sometime in the afternoon. The town was small, smaller than Hurricane, even. The actual downtown area had less than fifteen buildings in it, and as I pulled off to the side of the road, Zoey stretched in her seat.

“Goodie, lunch time. I could use a break.” she said.

I shook my head. “Nope. This is the next place we’re setting up.”

“Why?” she asked, looking at the small cluster that was Main street. “This place barely has anyone in it.”

“No idea. But it’s on the itinerary.”

She frowned and opened the glove box to retrieve the stack of papers we had our roadmap notes on. After flipping through them, she withdrew a paper and read “Clifton, WV, Creepy America location. Home to the ‘bunny man’ bridge.” She put it back in the stack. “Well, that explains that.”

I groaned. “So you’re telling me that we just spent all that time just to drive somewhere that we know has nothing?”

“I think I’m telling you it’s time for a lunch break.” She opened her car door and climbed out.

Part of me wanted to get back on the road and keep going, but I exited the car with her and crossed the street to a pub-style restaurant. Halfway across the road, though, she stopped.

I paused and looked at her. “You okay?”

“Yeah, just… weird cold spot.” She shivered.

I raised an eyebrow at her, but said nothing and continued into the pub, a large place made out of dark wood. Despite my desire to get back on the road, I couldn’t help but feel my mouth water as the scent of deep fryers and seared meats hit my nose. A sign said “Seat Yourself”, so we took a table near the bar.

At the bar was a man, disheveled and distraught, with red eyes and the shiny trail marks of tears running from the corners of his eyes. He brought the bottle in his hand up to his mouth, swayed and then barked “Anofer!”

A different man behind the bar shook his head. “You’ve had enough Tom.”

“You can’t tell me wha’s enough, not wif’ my daughter in the ground and nobody worryin’ ‘bout the killer.”

“You know that’s not true. The police…”

“The police are blind fools!” he yelled. “I told ‘em who it was. I told ‘em it was the Bunny Man! I saw ‘im, axe an’ all, an’ now Janice is dead an’ everyone thinks I’m crazy, or did it, an’... an’...” he broke down sobbing and the man behind the bar took him by the shoulder and escorted him out.

Zoey and I exchanged looks.

“So…” she began.

I shook my head. “No. We are not staying here.”

“C’mon Liam, why not?”

“Because it’s just going to be a waste of our time. Like the dogman was.”

“The dogman was different.”

“How?”

“There’s just… I don’t know. Call it a hunch.”

I raised an eyebrow. “A hunch?”

“Yeah.” She waited for me to respond, then sighed. “Alright, alright, I know it’s not a lot to go on. But we’re already here, and we already budgeted the time and money to stay here for a bit. So why not?”

I thought about it for a bit, then shrugged. “Alright, I suppose we can stay a bit longer than just lunch.”

***

We couldn’t talk to Tom; when we tracked his house down and asked to interview him, a woman I presumed to be his wife cussed us out then slammed the door in our face. But after asking some of the locals, we learned that Janice was in high school, and, well… you know how high schoolers are.

I’m going to skip most of the interviews, because they simply weren’t very helpful. Too few of the details were corroborated, and too many people spent time talking about irrelevant issues and potential theories. The more kids we talked to, the more obvious it was that we were hearing rumors and not facts.

We did hear some things repeated often enough to seem true. Janice’s body was found out in the woods. The murder weapon was an axe. Janice’s father, Tom, had gone looking for her after she hadn’t come home for several hours after school, and it was him who found the body. He also saw a figure nearby, a tall, bearded man in a bunny suit, standing a ways away with a bloody axe, who disappeared when he looked away for a split second.

And everyone knew who that was: the bunny man.

Which is where things disintegrated into speculation again. The bunny man was a lunatic, he was a prisoner, he was a ghost and he was a hobo who lived out in the woods. It was the typical contradictions you would find among any local legend. Even more problematic, there were some people who thought the bunny man wasn’t real, or at least, Tom’s story wasn’t, and there was a more sinister motive behind it.

There was also a smattering of stuff online. Apparently, there was a weirdo who had threatened some people with an axe while wearing a bunny suit, but that was about it. The main version of the legend, that he escaped an insane asylum into the woods and was never caught, had been thoroughly disproven by a local historian. Beyond that, there was only hear-say.

“Well,” I said as the high-schooler who had been eager to share in his theory that Janice’s former boyfriend was somehow involved scurried off to parts unknown, “that was a bust.”

She frowned at me. “What do you mean?”

“I mean there’s nothing here. Just a children’s campfire tale and an unfortunate dead girl stuck to it.” I started to pack up the camera we had been using back into its carrying case.

“And that means what, exactly? That Tom just made up the story about the axe man in a bunny suit? There’s a lot saner ways to deflect guilt.”

“Well I never said he was sane.”

I started to lift the bag off the ground, but Zoey grabbed my arm, forcing me to look at her.

“Can’t we stay here for a bit longer?” she pleaded. “Please, Liam?”

I sighed. “You still have a hunch, don’t you?”

“...yeah.”

“Alright, but just until tomorrow morning. Once nothing happens, we pack up and leave.”

***

When we made it back to where the R.V. was still parked, there was a small crowd of people gathered at one end of Main Street, blocking the road, backs turned to us to stare at whatever it was that held their attention. Zoey and I traded glances at each other, then moved to join them.

“Alright everyone, I’m going to need you to back up a bit” a man in a brown sherrif’s uniform said, waving his arms in front of the crowd.

“It’s Tom, isn’t it?” someone called.

“Now we don’t know that” the sheriff replied. The unknown voices continued to gossip.

“Well, it’s either him or the bunny man.”

“You can’t believe that nonsense, can you?”

“Well just look at it!”

We were close enough to see now. There, in the middle of the road, was a body. At least, I assume it was a body. By the time we got there, it was covered in a white sheet, edges and corners turning red from soaking in blood.

That was hardly the most interesting part, though.

Surrounding the body on the far side were several stakes in the ground, no higher than three feet in the air. Pinned to them, like some bizarre diorama of Roman crucifixion, were rabbits, nailed into the wood stomach up so that their paws were outstretched in a position of defensive fear. The wounds from these nails all leaked blood into the dirt.

“Look!” the sheriff shouted, face visibly turning red, “you’ve all had a nice oogle. Now I need you to scurry off so we can wall off this scene!”

Begrudgingly, the people left in twos and threes. A breeze passed by and Zoey shivered again.

“Creepy, huh?” I asked as we meandered to one side of the street.

“It’s not that,” she said, shaking her head. “It’s just so damn cold.”

I moved my hand through the air. It didn’t feel too bad; it certainly wasn’t warm, but it was by no means cold. “It feels fine to me.”

“Really? You can’t feel that?”

I shrugged.

“Anyway, that’s not important” she declared with a wave of her hand. “What is important is that there’s something here.”

“Yeah, I can’t argue with you there.” I scratched my head. “But why now? I mean, the bunny man urban legend has been around for decades but this seems to be the first time it’s gotten a verified body count.”

She smirked. “Well, that’s our job, right? Finding out. Question is, where do we start?”

“Well, there was that bridge…” I remarked.

***

Bunny man bridge was… anticlimactic, all things considered. The supposed hot-spot for the maybe maybe-not ghost of the serial killer was little more than a short white brick tunnel than ran under a railroad. It wasn’t even long enough to get properly dark in there. Supposedly he had hung himself here, but I didn’t see how because there was nothing nearby to hang a rope to. But with the whole rabbit-pole thing, I supposed all bets were off.

Originally, we were going to stake the location out in our car, but after only a half hour there, the same sheriff from before rode up and told us that we couldn’t park our car in the middle of a roadway, so we were forced to park it about three miles away at a general store and walk back. He also told us that we couldn’t hang around the bridge, but we ignored that part.

We stayed as the sun went down and continued to stay as the night dragged on. Once the sun had disappeared, the trees lengthened into long shadows, tall and slender entities whose silhouettes hid the inside of the forest from us. What we could see was what was illuminated by the moon and stars, as well as the occasional house light from deep in the woods, shining like  will-o-wisps; a floor of leaves, small ridges and hills, and the dark shapes of man-made signs and fences were all painted in a sheen of gray that is night light.

As ten dragged to eleven and eleven to midnight, the air got oppressively cold. My breath was visible and I was shivering now. I turned to Zoey and cleared my throat. “Ready to…”

“Shh!” She grabbed ahold of my shirt and dragged me into a shadow under the bridge. Her camera was pointed into the woods, so I followed its end and pointed mine at the same spot.

There, in the dim light, was a figure. Tall, how so was impossible to tell, but it was obvious even from this distance. The darkness blocked most of his features, but there was no hiding the most obvious one: the dirty pale purple of a full-body suit with two ragged rabbit ears at the top of it.

Its route took him closer to us and we both stopped breathing, stopped moving as he passed. Now we could see a dark black beard pouring out of the mouth area, dark eyes where the suit was cut out to allow for vision, and a large dull and chipped red axe hanging from his side. His footsteps were shuffling plods that kicked up the leaves. His other hand was dragging something large and brown and with relief I realized it was a deer carcass. Its eyes were stuck in glassy panic and its throat was slit so deep that the dragging almost threatened to tear the head off. He didn’t so much as look at us as he moved deeper into the woods.

Without a word, we followed behind.

It was nerve-wracking. There’s no way to move silently in a forest and every leaf crunch and twig snap sounded like the boom of a cannon. Most of them he ignored but when the noise was particularly loud, he’d stop and look up. We’d have to duck behind a tree or rock and wait until we heard those plodding shuffles again, then quietly resume trailing him. It continued in this way for what must have been hours, but with every moment spent hiding, he got just a bit farther ahead until he crested over a ridge quite a ways away. When we caught up, he was gone.

After waiting five minutes to confirm he was no longer near, Zoey whispered “I think we lost him.”

I nodded. “Time to head back, then.” I turned around and stopped. “Um, where exactly is back?”

She squinted into the night. “I can’t tell, none of this looks familiar to me.”

“Same here.”

She cursed. “Alright, follow me.” Zoey climbed down the ridge and started walking in the direction we came. I walked behind her.

Suddenly, Zoey tensed up and held her hand up to me to stop.

“What?” I asked.

“Movement, up ahead.” She pointed to some trees.

“Maybe it was just a deer?” I couldn’t even convince myself with that tone of voice.

She twirled and stared at a spot behind me. “It’s… circling.”

I swallowed and moved with her, back to back to cover blind spots.

“Do you hear that?” she murmured to me.

“Hear what?” I replied.

“Silence. The animals have gone quiet.”

There was a sudden explosion of leaves and dirt to my left. I spun to face it. It was the bunny man, and up close, he was even more terrifying. Now I could see the wild and mad look in his eye as he swung the axe, blunt-end first, towards me. I yelped and tried to bring my arm in front of it but it was too late. The metal end hit my head with the force of a truck. My ears rang. I saw stars of white in my vision. I tried to blink them away and backpedal, but my foot caught on a branch and I fell. All sounds morphed into weird echoes, like I put my head in a fishbowl, and there was a tunnel of black crawling around the ends of my eyes. I saw the strange bearded rabbit man bend over and grin at me and I just couldn’t take any more.

My eyes forced their way closed.

***

I felt the sensation of warm air licking my face. I twitched my cheek in response and the motion awakened all of my nerve ends, bridging back all my pains and aches in full force. Groaning, I opened my eyes.

I was still in the woods. Around my hands was a rough and scratchy rope tied to the tree at my back, holding me up in an uncomfortable half-sit. In front of me was the orange glow of a campfire, the source of the warmth. Outside of that was just shadow.

I saw movement to my left and I turned to it. The bunny man. He was walking back, axe hanging from one hand, pieces of wood in the other. He threw one into the flames and sat across the fire from me. As he did, he picked up a small object, my camcorder, I realized, and opened it up.

“What is this?” he asked, pointing it at me.

“I-i-it’s a camera."

He stared at me with a total lack of recognition for the words."

"It records things," I clarified.

He pressed a few buttons. I saw the little red recording light come on just as he grunted and threw it away into a pile of leaves, taking a seat across from me at the fire and staring at me.

I did the same. Now, in proper light and with no distractions, I could see the smaller details. He was a white guy, hard to tell in the full-body rabbit suit. The only places his skin showed through were in the various rips and tears in the suit that lived alongside stains of all different colors, as well as his hands, which were large and gnarled. His beard was scraggly and unkempt; chunks of dirt resided in it. And the smell… it was the scent of an outdoor outhouse, only worse.

I got my feet from under me and stood, slipping one or two times from the fatigue as I did so. He watched this awkward display while remaining immobile, following me only with his eyes.

“Wh..who are you?” I asked.

“I’m surprised at you. Can’t you tell?” His voice was deep and rough. It reminded me of the sound of tires on gravel.

“You… you look like the bunny man…”

“There you go then.” He rose and lifted the axe up.

My heart leapt into my chest. “Wait wait! Y-you didn’t answer my question!”

He stopped, towering over me and staring down at my crouched form. He didn’t say anything.

“I mean...” I licked my lips, “you act like you’re him, but the legend looks fake. Mismatched details, and things. A-and this is the first time there’s ever been bodies. So are you him or are you pretending?”

He continued to stare.

“You know,” he said at last, “I wish more of your kind just stopped to think, like you just did. You really have gotten dumber over the years.”

“So you’re not then?” I wanted to keep him talking, mostly to buy time until I could think of a way to escape… but part of me was truly curious.

He turned to his axe, then to me. After making what looked like a shrug, he sat the axe down near the tree and turned away from me. “No, I wasn’t. This flimsy… shell is a matter of necessity. I used to be great, a god, even. Leshy, man of the forest. They worshiped me. They feared and loved me all at the same time. Some even gave their lives in my name with a smile on their face.”

“So what happened?” I twisted my hands around the ropes, looking for weak points.

“The god of light.” He spat on the ground and turned back to me, making me stop my escape attempt. “He and his ilk entered my land, turned my people away from their own religion. There was not enough to sustain my form. I had to hop from one shell to the next, trying to find enough to sustain me.”

“Enough what? Faith?”

He nodded, dark eyes twinkling in the fire light.

“That… that doesn’t make any sense.”

“Maybe not to you.” He jabbed his finger hard into my chest and his tone turned angry. “You were made with a spirit, a life force, so much so that you feel free to waste it on whatever grabs your attention. I am only soul, a personality alone, forced to feed on your scraps like some kind of dog.”

I winced. The area he poked me at was sore; I was sure it was bruised. “So... you’re taking the faith people use on this urban legend? And stirring up more with the murders?”

He nodded once again and grabbed the axe at his feet, beginning to raise it. “It’s a shame I have to kill you. You possess a rare intelligence.”

“Wait! Wait, just please one second, I can help you!”

He lowered the axe to his feet and waited.

I gestured to the camera on the ground with my head. “I m-make stories. I-if you let me go, I can tell people about you. Show you to the world. Get people to believe in you.”

He shook his head and chuckled. Then he laughed, loud and hard. “So that’s your game. You had me going for quite a bit with the clueless act. Very well done. But I won’t let you bind me to a form, not so close to the time of ascension. Though,” he said as he raised the axe above his head, “thank you for removing my guilt for this act, you piece of warlock scum.”

“No, please, I-I-I didn’t…”

A sudden flare of orange filled the forest as a towering pillar of flame suddenly erupted deep into the forest. The bunny man turned around to watch it rise, then glared at me. “Friends of yours? No matter. I’ll be back for you.” He trekked into the woods in the direction of the fire, leaving me alone in the small camp.

I strained against the ropes at my wrist. No use. They were too tightly tied and too thick. Panicked, I scanned the camp for something, anything to help me out. It wouldn’t be too long before he came back.

“Psst!” Zoey’s voice hissed from behind me. I looked back to see her standing behind my tree.

“Zoey?” I whispered. “Was that you?”

“Yeah. If camping with my family has taught me anything, its how to build an irresponsibly large fire.” She withdrew a pocket knife and sawed through the rope. “C’mon, lets go.”

“Wait.” I ran back over to the camera on the ground, picked it up, and then began to follow her. We did an awkward crouch walk through the trees, trying to move fast and stealthy.

“Did you figure out who the hell that is?” Zoey murmured to me.

“Not who, what.” I gripped the camera tightly as I went. “I think he’s an old pagan god of some kind. Needs faith to live. Nobody believes in him any more, which is why he’s squatting out in the bunny man’s skin. He’s stealing that faith.”

Just as I finished, I heard a roar from behind us. No mere growl, this was a roar you would hear on something primal and ancient, like the battle cry of a T-Rex. Hazarding a glance behind me, I saw his silhouette. Except it couldn’t be. No silhouette could reach that tall like that, and you can’t see shadows in the dark.

Or against the night sky.

There was a tug on my shirt as Zoey grabbed me out of my trance and yanked me onto the road, bunny man bridge directly in front of us. “C’mon!” she yelled. “There’s a safe spot two miles up the road!”

“We’re not going to the car?” I asked, wide-eyed.

“Trust me.”

There was another ear-splitting howl behind us and I nodded.

We took off as fast as our legs could carry us. Neither one of us were in particularly good shape but adrenaline made up for the slack and turned us into Olympic sprinters. Around us, the wind started up, whipping the trees around like a hurricane. The shadow continued to chase us, darkening the forest into a void, swallowing any lights from the houses or ambient light from the sky.

Zoey kept going, past the bridge, past the intersection we had our car parked away from, and further north. I pushed myself to follow, but it was getting harder. My lungs burned. My sides felt like stitching threatening to burst and spill my insides out. My legs were burning too, and the protest they gave was making it hard to keep the rhythm up. Zoey was feeling it as well. At one point, she started to stumble and I had to grab her and stand her upright.

And still the shadow continued to advance. It was no more than five feet away now.

“How much further?” I barely managed to pant.

“There!” She pointed to a building about fifty feet away. “We just need to get to the parking lot.” I could barely make it out in the fading light, but I couldn’t see anything special to it. Certainly no reason to believe it could protect us. But I was far beyond questions at this point.

I gave one last push. This wasn’t adrenaline, this was pure willpower at this point. My body was threatening to break, I could feel it. Just to the parking lot, I told myself. Almost. Just to the parking lot…

I bounded over one last hurdle, a small patch of grass, and I was there. I turned around to see Zoey three feet behind, still struggling to make it. The darkness, practically a pure void now, was right on her heels. Some of it had gathered into a hand and was reaching out to grab her, mere inches away from her head.

I reached out my hand and she grabbed it. I pulled with all my might, toppling us both over onto the pavement just as the hand tried to snatch at her. It instead collided with the empty air in a shower of white sparks. Golden-colored crackles of lightning burst from the spot as the sound of sizzling and the smell of fresh ozone ripped through the air, causing the shadows to rush back and retreat inwards until all that was left of the advancing threat was the bunny man,

“You…” His voice quivered with rage. “This is who aids you?”

I couldn’t say anything. The only thing I could do was lay on the pavement and force air into my aching lungs.

He brought his fists up and pounded on the invisible barrier, causing another shower of sparks and lightning. When he lowered his arms, I could see the smoking burns on them.

“I’ll remember your faces” he vowed. “I’ll remember and I’ll tell the Parthenon, old and new. There will be no mercy for warlocks who ally themselves with the god of light.” He turned his back to us and walked into the forest just as the sky began to brighten into the twilight before dawn.

For the longest time, neither of us did anything. We just sprawled on the pavement, gasping for air, feeling the burn of our unhappy muscles. Once my breathing became more controlled and burning sensation faded into a less intense ache, I looked around at my surroundings.

The building was large and white structure, with a spire reaching into the air. I couldn’t read the blue korean letters written above the doors, but the large cross on the steeple let me know where we were.

“A… church?” I gasped.

“Yeah.” Zoey panted for a minute before continuing. “I remember when my old church did this whole ceremony to turn the ground holy before building a new wing. Did the parking lot too.”

“How did you know it would work?”

“I had a hunch” she replied.

I stared at her. Then I laughed. Zoey joined in too, and we filled the morning air with the sound, celebrating the bizarre victory.

I’ve gotten some flak from trusting Zoey’s hunches and her “spooky sense”, as the fans liked to call it. Most people chalked it up to lazy script writing. But those people never got to see it in action, and I did. And it wouldn’t be the last time it saved our lives.