#maybe it's bc their family is in the big city so the number of kids they can have is limited

[wwane]

finally watching the farewell and the amount of feelings i need to drink away is gonna be enough for my dad to ship me off to aa

[atopvisenyashill]

That whole era of the Second Quarrel onwards is so obscure when it comes to the succession and the tensions surrounding it. No reactions. No massive events or much about dynamics. I want to know about Viserys's coronation. I want to know what he felt about his own succession before the GC. And before that, I want to know if Baelon ever tried to mend fences. If Jaehaerys ever mentioned it again, and how. How Rhaenys made her life, now all but an exile, on Driftmark. What motivated Aemma and Viserys's marriage. WHEN DID JOCELYN DIE?!

LITERALLY OMG. Number one frustrating thing about F&B is we get pages and pages of stuff no one in the world gives a shit about - Maiden's Day, that stupid story about Jaehaerys fucking the writer - and nothing on the subjects that actually got most people into the damn series like the POLITICS or the MAGIC. all of THAT is completly glossed over or Gyldane (and Yandel for that matter) just go "Well Barth did say this thing but that's nonsense" and then no elaboration. drives me up a WALL because yeah sure maybe the long, pages upon pages of battles and fighting are not my cup of tea but a) they're perfectly well written and b) THEY MAKE UP FOR IT BY GIVING ME SEVERAL CHAPTERS IN A ROW OF CERSEI AND SANSA JUST CHILLING AND POLITICKING IN DETAIL. He makes up for that in F&B by giving me MORE Jaehaerys as if that's what I want!!!

There's a few eras in F&B I think are likely to come up in the main series or in dunk and egg which is why I think F&B is so frustratingly vague (and if they were kept vague for no reason….george what. george WHY). And I do get he wanted to give us more of what he was writing without spoiling later books but good lord i would actually rather wait longer for material that isn't 60% george going "well i can't tell them ALL of that, let's just wink at the audience." The Second Quarrel is one of those times that might be relevant later imo largely because there's just. NOTHING. NO INFO. NO EVENTS. Like you said, there are NO major events in this time period. the ONLY thing happening is politics and court intrigue but F&B isn’t interested in court intrigue unless it involves grooming a 12 year old girl and unfortunately there is only poor Aemma being groomed at this time so F&B says “too many old people they’re not sexy” and just gives us sparse details about marriage dates, birth dates, and death dates. We don’t even see how rhaenys and viserys feel about THEE QUEEN ALYSANNE dying!!!!!!!! She just. Passes. oh so sad. george i’m in your walls!

Unlike every other Targaryen child (Aemma, Viserys, Daemon, herself, even Aerea and Rhaelle to an extent) who is allowed to grow up at court surrounded by other Valyrians and members of the royal family, Rhaenys kids are denied this. With this move, as you say, Jaehaerys all but tells Rhaenys "get you and your fuckin kids the hell out of my city." Can you imagine being Rhaenys, newly pregnant, having been told for years by your father and grandmother that you will be Queen one day just to be suddenly and unceremoniously exiled from court and kicked completely out of the line of succession? Can't even begin to get into how deranged it is to do this to your pregnant granddaughter when she's mourning the loss of her father

WHEN DOES JOCELYN BARATHEON DIE. HOW DOES SHE FEEL ABOUT HER DAUGHTER AND GRANDKIDS BEING PASSED OVER?????? She is only a year or two older than Aemon, she could easily have still been alive and making a fuss during Viserys' reign especially after he names Rhaenyra his heir SO HOW DID SHE FEEL ABOUT ALL OF THIS.

Baelon and Viserys' coronations/weddings/big We Are The Royal Line Now Shenangians during this era are crazyyy right, because THE QUEEN OF WESTEROS is refusing to talk to the iron throne, can’t ride her dragon anymore, is losing her hearing and memory, and goes everywhere with Gael to the point that no one even attempts to marry Gael bc they know Alysanne will never let her go. THATS INSANE. They are LIVING SEPARATELY like practically pseudo divorced the way Doran and Mellario are, so is Alysanne just purposefully snubbing these celebrations and using “i’m old” as an excuse or is she passive aggressively riding a carriage all the way back to KL just to show up wearing velaryon colors to viserys’ wedding and then left again without saying goodbye before the banquet even started???

AMD BAELON. part of why i’m so turned off by him is bc we have no indication he felt even a little had but to be fair it has been pointed out to me that we ALSO have no indication he didn’t feel bad; we have no indication of his feelings whatsoever!!! for all we know HE could have felt this was unfair & had been in the middle of either brokering a marriage between his grandkids and her kids, or figured “hey we had this exact same issue with Auntie Rhaena, maybe I should build House Targaryen a second and third seat or even given Dragonstone to The First Born Girl as tradition from now on” like he really could have been trying OR he could have been cackling and rubbing his hands together and encouraging viserys to bed 13 year old aemma soon and often to ensure their line, and calling rhaenys a stupid bitch at court, like we just don’t know!!!!!

We get several “they never agreed on the succession” comments but how does that translate to ACTION. stop telling me dates and tell me WHAT HAPPENED.

[thedawningofthehour]

hello ! this topic is very interesting I wish the show was allowed to delve into it more :<

I don't think the Hamato have inbreeding as miss Karai ditched the Foot and didn't have a clan, so how did she make a whole new one ? she might ve started with a few members of the Foot who ALSO didn't like the Shredder as jōnin enough to leave . the Foot were just running around ruining villages , right ? I think that karai would recruit the besieged villages and its families to fight against the Shredder , considering the Shredder just destroyed everything of theirs , and said clan would join with karai . she kept doing this , following the foot's assaults and adding more people to her hamato clan until they had enough members to actually function and fight the Foot . maybe how she began was different though. maybe karai didn't take any old Foot members with her and took refuge in a different village / clan she came to know and they joined her cause , becoming the first hamato . maybeI think the hamato in the 1500s were a collection of unrelated clans and families that banded together with shared values . so a hamato back then could marry within the clan without it being incestuous bc lots of hamato were unrelated but still obviously part of the hamato clan and the clan was huge and had so many members . for some reason , the hamato declined in numbers maybe progressively or their numbers were decimated during key events and so marrying within the clan was no longer possible bc everybody in the hamato was related at that point . sho is likely one of those hamato who had to have a kid with an outsider (someone not BORN into the clan) and atsuko was too and obviously yoshi would've had to be with an outsider as well . i bet Sho's parents also couldn't marry within the clan and one was an outsider .

I don't think the hamato would have an issue with outsiders but it just shows how tiny and vulnerable the clan is now , they can't even have hamato × hamato children anymore .

...you guys really want to convince yourself that inbreeding only happened with ugly rich people, huh?

Okay, for starters, if this is about the 'Splinter is an only child because inbreeding' thing-that was a joke. I do not actually think they were inbred to the point of the Hasburgs. For one, Draxum literally targeted Splinter because of his incredible genetics, and I doubt 'incredibly inbred' was one of his criteria. But also, shit like the Hasburgs happened after multiple generations of very close inbreeding, and that only happened because of royal family 'pure bloodline' shit. Humans generally avoid doing that, because of the obvious. The Hasburgs were very dedicated to being as inbred as they could be. And I guess it's not out of the question that the Hamato clan did the same but it seems like kind of a drastic assumption to make.

As for less severe inbreeding-guys, you do realize that everyone on earth is like...at most a fiftieth cousin to you, right? Chances are your parents and their parents and whatnot are significantly closer. We are all a little inbred. Humans have insanely low genetic diversity-that's actually why inbreeding is so disastrous for us, our gene pool is already so small.

Also, just think about the life you lead now and how it differs from how humans have lived for thousands of years. The majority of humans living in big cities verses agrarian settlements is a new thing. Meeting people and marrying people from hundreds of miles away was not the norm. For most of human history, people were born and lived and fucked and died all within the same general region. Travel was generally done on foot, especially for peasants, or maybe by mount or boat. And these small towns generally had even lower population density than small towns today-no big apartment buildings, sewage became an unpleasant problem if things became too crowded, etc. Villages and smaller towns usually had maybe a few dozen families at most, and barring the odd newcomer (or war or famine that caused your entire village to disperse and move) you were stuck with them your entire life.

Even assuming that all these families were unrelated to start-which they almost certainly weren't-it would only take a few generations for them to all be related to each other. Even people from the next village over, they still probably have a recent common ancestor with you. Unless you snagged that one guy who moved to your little village from across the sea, there was no way to avoid marrying your third or fourth cousin. Everyone was related to you.

This was really common in rural areas. They didn't understand genetic diversity very well. I made a joke a few chapters ago about Atsuko having some recessive genes that indicated inbreeding, but that is not all that abnormal. Chances are you have some too.

[arcadian-vampire]

[More Medical Anomaly Blogging, yippee] Putting this one under a readmore bc it's like six paragraphs of absurdity, you know how it is w the mental illness abt the physical illness 🥳

Last night I went to use our pulse oximeter while my family was standing around chatting in the kitchen, and the silence that fell when the device proudly informed me that my oxygen was only at 84%,, yeah. That was fun

I Have noticed that number hasn't really been the best lately (not That bad, but not ideal either- it's supposed to be above 98%. at the height of covid, nurses told people to go to the ER if that number was 88% or less). It's not very surprising either, considering my limbs have been displaying Slightly Alarming shades of blue/purple more and more these days

I have a doctor appointment in two weeks and I'm. finally gonna inform him that Hey My Feet Have Turned Red/Purple Whenever I Stand. since I was like. 17 probably. My heartrate Very Rarely falls below 110 when I stand now. Shit's fucked!! I've been too scared to talk about it until now because supposedly nothing is wrong with me, I'm just really bad at being a person, and it's my fault somehow.

I don't know what I'm gonna do if they tell me I did this. Lie facedown on the carpet and scream for a solid six hours, maybe. If they find a way to Fix Me though, I won't complain- it'd be nice to not worry about scaring little kids when I go to the store in shorts and flip-flops, y'know? It'd be nice to not stuff my hands in my pockets when I notice my nails are blue again, because it scares me so much I can't handle looking at it

In other news, my mom has hunted down an Ehlers-Danlos specialist in our nearest big city- a solid five hour car ride away if you don't stop at all or hit any traffic. We've been hoping I could just,, wait a bit, until we can move to that state so we'll be closer to better doctors, but woops looks like my body is Not gonna allow that, for whatever damn reason. My legs lock up so bad during even an hour long car ride, I'm gonna Fucking Die ( < being dramatic) on a trip to that city omg

And if we go there and they tell me this isn't EDS, it's some other junk nobody can figure out, I'm gonna walk out into my nearest corn field and scream so loud that six different farmers show up w their shotguns bc they think either someone is being brutally murdered, or there's an absolutely fucked up fox coming to eat all their chickens. And then I'm gonna steal some of their corn, but that's unrelated to my health situation

TLDR; I'm still going insane, but my cat keeps bringing me her mousey toys so like. it's all good

[causemufins]

I was saying stuff in tags, but it was getting too long. This is mainly stuff about winter and how the lake affects that, but I’ve got some other notes.

I'm waking distance from lake Erie, and we have family in Canada on basically the other side. It takes us three hours to get to a border crossing because we need to go around the lake.

There was one time when I was going to a school that was maybe a mile away from the lake, while I was still only like, 200-300 feet away from it. The school got a decent amount of snow, but my place got an inch or two at first, which then melted and refroze so there was an inch of ice at the bottom. Then there was a foot of snow on top of that.

In gradeschool when school was only a block away, in winter there would be kids from a city over that couldn't get to school bc of how much it varied from the weather and snow.

When the news calls it lake effect weather it means it, Cleveland isn't that far from where I live and they have a shirt souvenir you can buy which is all about the weird weather. I usually share a pic to emphasize the weather around here, since i think it lists like, 5 day weather forecast, day 1 is sunny and a nice warm day, day two is a very cold day with snow, day 3 is in the middle with thunderstorms, day 4 is all three at once, and then day 5 is entirely question marks.

I had a relative who helped with the local ‘rescue’ departments (firefighters, medical/ambulance, sort of police here and there but not really thankfully) And he mentioned a few times where someone would have been reported on Lake Erie and they’re missing or something, or signs point to them having last been seen there, and at that point there’s not much they can do. They can look to see if the person is in a boat or something, but if there’s a chance they’re underwater in the shallow of the great lakes, it’s still deep enough and rough enough that they have to hope they’ll turn up on the shore.

I know of the Great Lakes enough because being so close had our schools do some lessons or whatever about them. I mean I was like 10 or so when I last had some of those and the big thing I remember was learning the shapes of the lakes (superior is a wolf head, michigan is a squash, huron is a man carrying something, ontario is a carrot, erie is just a lump of coal), but I never really traveled to see the other lakes. Don’t get me wrong, I have traveled to a number of states, but Erie touches four states (and a province) and it’s a smaller one.

If all this is a bit long, just, check out the song the Edmund Fitzgerald. It’s from 1976 about the ship with that name that sunk a year before.

Do other USAmericans not know the names of the Great Lakes?? I grew up in the midwest so like. They're important here but I never considered that other people might not give a fuck about these terrifying inland seas until I was reading a fic that said "the large Lake Michigan and another called Lake Erie" as if there are people who don't know about Lake Michigan and Lake Erie.

Is that the case?? Are people outside of the midwest aware of these bodies of water outside of being just big lakes???

[yoontopia]

coffee & cream | jjk

pairing: jeon jungkook x (f) reader

genre: friends with benefits au (like the movie mila kunis is sexy y’all), one (1) smut scene [in the form of oral (m) and (f) receiving, unprotected sex (wrap it up kids cmon), spanking, grinding], fluff, angst (but its a happy ending bc its me)

rating: M

word count: 14.3k

summary: Jungkook isn’t usually a risk taker-- in fact, he’s the safest guy in the room. But you’re about to change that

Jungkook adjusts his tie and looks out of the little airplane window. The seatbelt sign is blinking back on – it’s been a relatively exhausting flight from LA to New York and his legs are numb. He eyes the tall buildings of the metropolis below, squinting when he can see the Empire State building in his view. It isn’t his first time in Manhattan, having visited once with his family when he was a teenager. The sheer size of the place terrifies him a little though.

It’s not like Los Angeles isn’t a big city. LA is huge, in fact, and just as saturated as any big city is. But New York is a different topic altogether. Jungkook finds LA intimidating, he’s not sure where to even start with Manhattan.

He walks out into JFK, hoisting his duffle bag on one shoulder. It’s noisy, he notes, as soon as he’s walked out and into baggage claim. He only makes a small pitstop in the men’s bathroom to make sure his hair doesn’t look like birds have nested in it and emerges out, looking around. Someone’s supposed to be picking him up, and they should be here, amongst the throng of people holding up placards with names on them. He’s just pulling out his phone to double check if any emails about his pickup were sent while he was in flight, when a commotion by baggage claim catches his eye. Raising his eyebrows, he takes in the sight before him.

There’s you, hair coming out of your bun, clutching your stilettos close to your chest as you walk barefoot on the baggage belt wearing a crinkled skirt-suit. You’re looking for something, tip toeing around the suitcases, unaware of the stares you’re getting. You’re walking towards him, against the direction of the belt and he stares around him and sees a piece of paper with the name JEON JUNGKOOK written on it in bright red lipstick. He leans over to pick it up, and realizes you’ve made a grab for it as well.

“That’s me,” he says. You blink at him in confusion, before your face clears.

“Jeon Jungkook?” you affirm, and he nods, pointing to the piece of paper and then at himself.  “Oh, thank god.” You introduce yourself and hold out your hand, which Jungkook promptly shakes. You’re still on the baggage belt, so he has to walk alongside you.

“You’re picking me up from the airport?”

“Yes!” your voice is hushed and out of breath. You smooth down your flyaway hair hastily.

“Do you… always pick people up like this?” He gestures at the baggage belt and you suddenly laugh, a high tinkling sound. Jumping off the belt, you stand in front of him.

“Uh yeah, you know, I like to keep things interesting,” you say, nodding your head like you mean business. “Welcome to New York, by the way. I feel like I should’ve brought a boombox with that Taylor Swift song blasting on it.”

“I mean there’s always next time, right?” Jungkook cracks a smile, shoving his hands in the pockets of his suit. “You know… you’re not exactly what comes to mind when one thinks ‘headhunter’.”

“Yeah, I prefer the term executive recruiter,” you say offhandedly. “‘Headhunter’ always makes me sound a little creepy.”

“Well,” Jungkook says, as he watches you put your heels back on. They add a significant amount to your height, and you stand in front of him expectantly. “You did stalk me for the past six months. That’s kind of creepy.” You laugh again at that and reach for his bag, which he pulls out of the way.

“Let me carry your bag, it’s my job!”

“You don’t look like you do this often,” he points out.

“Okay so maybe you’re my first recruit, sue me.” You’re pouting faintly, as the two of you walk out of the airport. The New York heat hits Jungkook all at once, and he sniffs the air curiously. “Nasty isn’t it? I love it” you grin.

“What is that?” he asks, wrinkling his nose.

“Sewage, rats, and the sweet smell of capitalism.” You’re waving down a yellow taxi. “Need me to play you that Taylor Swift song yet?” You hold the door open for him and he gets in and you pop in from the other side. Once you’re done giving the driver your destination, you sit back. “So.” You start. Jungkook raises your eyebrows at you. “You’re finally here!”

“Only took six months worth of emails to convince me,” he says, looking out the window as the cab crosses a bridge. Manhattan looms in front of him.

“It’s a huge opportunity,” you say, and he has to give you points for being earnest. “Art director for Vogue? This is the big leagues!” You’re turned in your seat to look over at him. “I mean, no offence to your little internet blog.”

“Which got seven million hits last month,” He points out, only a little offended. You roll your eyes.

“Have you been on TikTok lately, little kids are pulling those numbers.” You say, and he can’t deny it. “But I’ve seen your work firsthand, and you’re amazing at what you do. That’s why you’re here.” Jungkook sighs. The cab is in Manhattan now and he stares out the window once again.

“There must be a reason you’re here,” you continue quietly. “Even I was surprised you finally agreed to give the interview a shot.” Jungkook doesn’t look at you. He doesn’t know you enough to tell you the real reason he up and left his life in LA.

“A free trip to New York? C’mon I’d be an idiot to turn that down!” He says instead, making his tone as light as possible. “But New York’s so crowded. Look around! I’m from California okay? I prefer the coast.” You’re looking at him, and he has a feeling you can see right through him. Considering New York also has the ocean, even Jungkook knows that is the poorest excuse.

“C’mon, what’s really holding you back?” Your tone is serious. Jungkook shrugs.

“I don’t know. This is a ridiculously huge move. I’ve lived in one place my whole life. And I don’t want it to feel like I made the wrong move and got myself into something I can’t handle.”

“I’m telling you, your work is incredible,” you say again, and Jungkook feels the back of his neck go warm. He’s heard flattery before, but you’re a stranger and you sound so blatantly honest. “You’re fully capable of handling this. Look, we’ll get you some coffee before your interview, you’ll be fine.”

“I don’t drink coffee,” Jungkook mumbles, lowering himself in his seat. You stare.

“What?! You heathen.” You’ve dropped all formalities with him, and Jungkook doesn’t know if that’s just New York, or you.

“It’s really hot,” he says as the cab pulls up to the destination.

“Doesn’t it get hot in LA?” you ask, paying the driver. Jungkook stands on the sidewalk and looks around. He can see the river from where he stands and smell the ocean. That thought comforts him a little.

“Yeah it gets hot in LA, but here it’s the heat, the pollution the humidity. In LA, thirty degrees feels like thirty degrees. Here thirty degrees feels like—the ninth circle of hell—”

“This conversation about the weather is really fascinating, believe me,” you cut him off. “But lucky for me, we’re here.” You point at the large building the two of you are standing outside of. “So, good luck.” Jungkook looks up at the skyscraper.

“Whatever happens, happens,” He says, shaking his head. “I told you, I don’t really want it.”

“I think you do,” you say, crossing your arms slightly. “Whatever it was that convinced you to finally fly out here is also convincing you to go for it. But regardless, just do me a favour? Act like you do want it so that I look good.”

“I guess I can do that,” he mumbles, scratching the back of his neck.

“Okay”, you say, flashing him another one of your blinding smiles. “Go get ‘em.”

It’s past three in the afternoon by the time Jungkook walks out of the building’s shiny revolving doors.

“Hey!” you’re running towards him, still wearing the same clothes from this morning. Your hair is down though, Jungkook notes.

“You’re still here,” he’s surprised, and partly impressed by your ethic.

“Yeah, well,” you say, sounding sheepish. “It’s my job. How did it go?” Jungkook allows himself a small grin.

“They bought it,” he says, giving you two thumbs up. “You’re safe for a little while longer.” You clap your hands excitedly.

“Well thank you,” you offer him a little curtsy that has him laughing. “I owe you one Jeon.” At that moment, his phone buzzes in his back pocket and he reaches for it, while you cross your arms and wait.

“Uh,” he says, reading the notification. “It’s from you.”

“It’s your offer,” you say, tilting your chin at his phone.

“Wait,” he says, confusion evident on his face. “I got the job?” You’re smiling now.

“They called about five minutes ago,” Your smile widens. “Congratulations! The offer expires at midnight.” Jungkook holds up his phone.

“Why didn’t you just tell me instead of texting me?”

“‘Cause it’s more dramatic,” you state, as if it’s obvious. Jungkook scoffs and looks away, towards the river, running a hand through his hair. You roll your eyes.

“Jungkook, you’re not gonna screw this up,” you say.

“It’s a huge move,” Jungkook argues. “Would you uproot your entire life for a job? Be honest.”

“Well, no. For a job, probably not. But for New York? Yeah, I would. Which is why I’m not gonna sell you on the job, I’m gonna sell you on New York.”

“It’s New York!” Jungkook says, exasperation leaking into his voice. “I’ve seen Iron Man, I know what it’s like!”

“Not the bullshit tourist version,” you say, looking at him, that slight pout back in your face.

“Puppy dog eyes? Really?” He questions, defeat evident in his voice. You laugh.

“C’mon,” You say grinning. “Let me buy you a drink.” You’re walking away from him and crossing the street when you realize Jungkook isn’t following. “What’re you waiting for?”

“For the light to turn so I can cross the street,” he says pointing at the red hand glaring across from him. You scoff and march back up to him.

“You Cali folk are so cute,” Linking your arm with his, you lead him onto the street. “C’mon it’s fine.”

“No, it’s really not,” Jungkook argues, watching a cab nearly run the two of you over, but you expertly dodge it. “See? I’m gonna die.” You lead him down Park Row, your arm warm against his and Jungkook finds himself at the Brooklyn bridge.

“What’re we—” he starts, but you ignore him, dragging him to the foot of Brooklyn Bridge. Cars are rushing past them, commuters going home after a day of work. Pedestrians are walking along the sidewalk, admiring East River below. You walk up to a small woman sitting on the side of the sidewalk in front of some mangoes.

“Maria!” you exclaim, followed by sentences in a language Jungkook barely recognizes as Spanish. The woman looks up in recognition and smiles at you. You fish through your wallet for a few dollar bills before handing them to her. You’re still speaking in Spanish as you point at Jungkook and then at yourself. The woman nods and begins to bag up the sliced mangoes.

“You’re feeding me mangoes off the street?” Jungkook whispers.

“What? I thought you LA folk were all about that organic, local bullshit,” you retort. You graciously take the bagged slices from the woman and wave at her before pulling Jungkook back in the direction of Manhattan.

“Do I at least get to eat them?” He asks.

“Not yet!” you reply cheerfully. You usher him into the Fulton Street Subway station, even let him use your Metro Card. Jungkook is too winded to ask any more questions as you practically push him onto a train. Two stops later, you’re getting off, Jungkook trying to keep up with you.

“Battery Park!” You wiggle your fingers. Jungkook stares around. “This is where you come if you wanna take those super expensive tours to the Statue of Liberty by the way,”

“Good to know,” he laughs. You walk him in the direction of the water but away from the ferries. It’s a promenade, he realizes. The two of you walk until you arrive at what he recognizes as a World War II memorial. You walk towards it and sit down on the slabs of concrete next to the steps, your feet dangling off as you stare at the ocean in front of you. You pat the space next to you and Jungkook throws the thoughts of getting his one good suit dirty and joins you. You promptly hand him the bag of mangoes.

“I thought we were going for a drink,” he jokes. You laugh as you pop open the bag. He stares down at his own. “What did that woman do to my mangoes?”

“She puts cayenne salt on them,” you say, popping a cube into your mouth. Jungkook raises his eyebrows and experimentally puts a piece in his mouth.

“Oh my god,” he says, voice coming out in a moan. “This is amazing”

“Right?” you laugh. “Maria is a culinary genius.” Your legs swing as the air gets cooler. The two of you watch the ferries in silence, but its comfortable. Jungkook breathes in the salty air.

“Do you do this often?”

“When I need to clear my head, I come here to watch the sunsets,” you say. “The crowd dies down by then because the only tourists that come here are here for Liberty and the ferries stop around this time.” There is another minute of silence and then – “You know, Jungkook, I like you.”

“Thanks.”

“That’s why, I’ll give you your choice of closes.”

“What?” Jungkook is confused again, a state he finds he’s often in wherever you seem to be involved.

“How I close you on this job.”

“Oh.”

“So, we got the flattery close,” you start, and put on a sweet, simpering voice. “Jungkook, you are so good at what you do!” Jungkook is laughing, but you carry on. “The take-it-or-leave-it close – Man I don’t care if you take it, I get paid regardless!” Jungkook is trying to interrupt but you reel right on. “The sympathy close,” suddenly your voice is hitched, and you pretend to bat away unshed tears. “You see, my liver is failing—”

“Why do women think the only way to get a man to do what they want is to manipulate him?” Jungkook finally manages to interrupt your rant and his voice comes out harsher than he expected it to. You blink at him, a look of understanding flashing across your face and Jungkook clamps his mouth shut.

“History,” you reply, choosing not to pry, for which Jungkook is grateful. “Personal experiences. Romantic comedies.” You look out towards the ocean again. A sailing boat is crossing your line of sight as you speak. “C’mon, you’re here for a reason, whether you want to admit it or not.”

“Yeah,” Jungkook says, biting into another slice of mango. “To explore an option. Who wouldn’t want to know their options?”

“Someone who’s in a perfect situation,” you counter.

“Are you in a perfect situation?” He throws your words right back at you.

“Job? Oh, absolutely.” You say. “Everything else? Well, that’s none of your business,” Jungkook chuckles, and you smile. The wind ruffles your hair as you lean back. You watch as he finishes the remainder of his mango. “Ready to go?”

“But we just got here!”

“Chop Chop my friend, New York waits for no one.” Jungkook groans, deciding that you’re just impossible to keep up with.

“Central Park? Really? I thought we weren’t doing the bullshit tourist stuff.” Jungkook is holding a cup of boba in his hand – rose black tea with lychee jelly. The two of you had picked some up on the way to the park. When you’d said drinks, this wasn’t what he’d had in mind, but he wasn’t complaining. You take a giant sip of your own milk tea with pearls.

“You do realize Central Park is huge, right? There are corners of this place tourists tend to not venture into.”

The two of you are near the upper end of the park. The city is more residential here, almost into South Harlem. You tell him it’s the North Meadow. You find small curving paths in the park and the two of you walk around. Jungkook has to admit, it doesn’t feel like he’s currently in the world’s noisiest city.

“Here’s the countryside and peace you were craving for,” you say cheekily, and he laughs. But the air smells cool and fresh, the smell of exhaust and the sound of cars only a faraway tune.

“Okay fine, this wasn’t on TV,” he admits, and you grin. The two of you manage to find a spot in a clearing on a slight hill next to a huge oak tree and make yourselves comfortable on the grass. You pop open the slices of cake you’d picked up at the boba place and dig a fork in them, motioning Jungkook to do the same.

“So, what’s your dad think about all this?” you ask casually and Jungkook stares at you in disbelief. “What? He must have an opinion! He’s famous – he was the brand marketing director for GQ for 23 years.” Jungkook is surprised, to say the least.

“Wow, somebody did their homework.”

“Oh yeah,” you agree. “I have this thing at work. It’s called, uh, Google.” You ignore Jungkook’s scoff. “C’mon, what did he say about the job?”

“Actually, I haven’t asked him.” Jungkook confesses. You don’t need to know that he hasn’t seen or spoken to his father for almost a decade now.

“Well, then, you must know what he’d say,” You counter, waiting patiently for Jungkook to answer.

“He’d tell me to go with my gut,” Jungkook says at last. “And that he’d be proud of me no matter what I did.” If you can sense the shift in his tone, you don’t call him out on it. He’s realizing that you’re more perceptive of your surroundings than he originally gave you credit for.

“Well, he sounds like a really great man.” Your voice is soft and Jungkook doesn’t need to look at you to hear the smile in your voice.

“Yeah, he is.” Jungkook says softly. He doesn’t know if its because you sense the tension, but you stuff the remainder of the cake in your mouth.

“Hey, do you wanna see something really cool?”

“I always want to see something really cool,” Jungkook says easily. He watches you as you lie down on the grass.

“C’mon!” you tell him, and at this point Jungkook knows better than to argue. His suit is ruined anyway. The two of you lie down side-by-side to look up at the sky.

“One of the only places in the city you can actually see a clear night sky,” you point out. “And you know the best part? Very poor cell reception.”

“You bring all your recruits here?”

“I told you, Jeon, you’re my first.”

“Wow.” Jungkook says. “Thanks.”

“But if you tell anyone about this, I will rip your ears off and staple them to your neck.” You continue, in the same, airy tone.

“I believe you,” Jungkook says in a small voice. You sit up next to him. Your hair is frazzled from lying down and your black pencil skirt has grass all over the behind, but you don’t seem to notice or care.

“Oh, it’s time,” you say, checking your watch.

“Time for what?” Jungkook asks, but he hears it as soon as the question leaves his mouth. Soft music reaches his ears from faraway.

“Those tourist spots always have live musicians in the evening.” You say, hugging your knees and resting your chin on them. “But I don’t like the crowds, so I come up here to listen. Nobody for miles – just you and the music.” Jungkook watches you, as your eyes shine, and you stare into the distance.

“Now this is pretty damn cool,” he says. You’re swaying to the music without realizing it and Jungkook watches you tap your foot along to the beat.

“It’s nice to feel like you’re a part of something, right?” you say. “New York can get a little lonely sometimes.”

“And you’re trying to sell me on it.” Jungkook jokes. You laugh, that high tinkling sound Jungkook has come to associate with you after today.

“Every place can be a bit lonely sometimes,” you correct yourself softly. Jungkook thinks the two of you might be more similar than he’d originally thought. He makes a split-second decision.

“I’m in.” he says.

“What?”

“You sold me.”

“Really?” Your eyes are still shining, but you’re looking at him now.

“I’ll take the job,” he laughs. You squeal, still swaying slightly to the music.

“Oh my god!” you grin. “You are so gonna crush it,” And in that moment, surrounded by nothing but the smell of strawberry cake, faraway guitars, and your windswept hair covered in grass, Jungkook really believes you might be right.

Jungkook finally feels like he’s finished moving into his new apartment. Despite being a twenty-something, he never realized that he didn’t actually own that much stuff, and moving states had taken less than a month. Jungkook had other, more pressing matters to worry about – like quitting his previous job, training his replacement, signing a new lease, and bidding farewell to his rather scary old landlady in LA. Jungkook couldn’t say he was very sorry to leave her.

His apartment in Upper West Side Manhattan is miles better than the cramped place he had called home for the past five years. Vogue really had gone all out fixing him up with a place. Jungkook’s favorite feature are the giant floor to ceiling windows that overlook the city. He finds he can get used to this.

He was here now, on the first day at his new job, trying not to sweat through his cream dress shirt. His new team is unfamiliar to him and Jungkook isn’t an extrovert by nature, but he ignores his sweaty palms and tries to play nice.

“So, all I ask is that you give me a little bit of time to gain your trust,” he says, reciting the little speech he’d practiced on the flight a month ago. “I know that I’m new at this, but what I lack in experience, I make up for in cliches.” He gets a few scattered laughs out of that lame gag and sighs internally. “My door’s always open,” he adds. “Literally.” He gestures wildly to his office wall that’s made entirely out of glass, putting him on view to the rest of his team sitting in cubicles outside. “Thanks guys.”

There’s a scattered applause, a few shaken hands, and Jungkook smiles shyly. The crowd dissipates, leaving behind a man with curling blonde hair making his way toward him.

“Park Jimin, I work in marketing.” He introduces. Jungkook shakes his hand. He’s about to ask Park Jimin about his career when he sees you, wearing a navy dress and holding a stack of papers. Your hair is up again, this time in a no-nonsense ponytail.

“Oh, hey Jimin,” you say cheerfully and Jimin grins, exclaiming your name and giving you a hi-five. “Whatcha doing?”

“Sizing up the new guy,” Jimin stares at Jungkook from the corner of his eye. “You did good here. I could just eat him up.” Jungkook’s eyebrows disappear into the fringe of hair that falls over his forehead as he sees you trying to control your laughter. You pat Jimin on the butt with a fondness that isn’t missed by Jungkook.

“Go back to work Chim,” you say and Jimin shrugs and bounds off towards his office. Jungkook levels you with a look, eyebrows still raised, and you giggle. “You get used to him.”

“Anyway,” Jungkook says, picking up his iPad from his desk. “I have something to show you.”

“Show me?” You’re curious now as you walk into his office fully, still clutching your papers. He uses his tablet to switch the screen on the TV above his desk. It’s a small acoustic band, playing in Central Park.

“I tracked down the band that plays music in the North end of the park – the one we listened to that day that I decided to take this job,” Jungkook explains. “I’m thinking of using them somehow for my first project. I got in touch with the lead singer – we’re thinking of using them for guerilla advertising.”

“Taking something so pure and commercializing it?” You ask. “Knew I’d found the right guy.” Jungkook chuckles and watches you put down the stack of papers on his desk. “Anyway, here’s your contract. Sign it, and I will be out of here.” Jungkook fingers the front page hesitantly.

“A whole year,” he says wonderingly. “Wow.”

“Why do I feel like this is the first real commitment you’ve ever made?” Your hands are on your waist as you level him with a judgemental look on your face.

“Its not,” Jungkook argues, mildly offended. “I worked my last full-time job for two years. And fuck – I do regret that one.” He holds up two fingers to drive the point home.

“Do me a favour,” you sigh. “Don’t quit or get fired before this year’s up, otherwise I don’t get my bonus.”

“Wait, I can leave whenever I want? Then what’s the point of the contract?”

“Just sign the damn thing!” You watch as he groans and scribbles his signature at the bottom. “Nice doing business with you Jeon Jungkook,” You shake his hand vigorously. Jungkook watches you collect all the papers.

“Hey, I was thinking of maybe getting some lunch. Do you know a place?” He asks, checking his phone for the time. You stare at him.

“Are you… asking me out?” Jungkook blinks. What?

“Whoa, no,” he amends. “I’m just asking you to show me a restaurant.”

“I mean, I’m the only friend you have in New York,” you ramble on. “You don’t wanna complicate that.”

“I know,” Jungkook starts. “I’m not asking you out.” You ignore him, Of course you do.

“I mean, sure, we’d have fun, roll around, get into some erotic humiliation fantasy—” You’re wringing your hands. Jungkook thinks if he wasn’t sweating while giving his speech before, he’s definitely sweating now.

“I—Erotic?”

“—But it’ll all blow up in our faces, end very badly, and we’d never speak to each other—”

“Can you slow down for a second—”

“It’s just not a good idea Jungkook—”

“I’m not fucking asking you out, I swear to god!” Jungkook almost shouts, and you shut up. He watches your eyes go wide, and you bite your lip as if to hold back a sob. He winces inwardly.

“Okay,” you say, your voice unusually small. “You don’t like me like that, I get it. You don’t have to be so mean about it,” Your voice is trembling now, and you look down at your feet. Jungkook sputters, taking a step towards you.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t--,” but he realizes that your voice wasn’t trembling from hurt, it was just you trying to keep your laughter in. You look up at him now, mirth swimming in your eyes and he knows he’s been had.

“God, you’re such a girl,” you grin. “Come on sister, it’s my treat.” Jungkook watches you turn on your heel and march out and wonders if there will ever come a day when he’ll have you all figured out.

You bring him to a brunch place at the corner of the block. It’s got a long French name Jungkook struggles to pronounce but he orders a large smoked salmon avocado toast while the two of you sit at a small table by the window.

“So, was it an easy move?” you ask, chopping your broccoli into tiny pieces before eating it.

“It was tough leaving my mom,” Jungkook offers. “My brother gave me some shit. But, uh, the timing was right,” He nods, as if satisfied with that answer. You’re watching him, a small smile on your face.

“An ex?” you ask. Jungkook winces, remembering that you’re far more astute than you let on. “I kinda got the vibe.”

“Yeah,” Jungkook answers, mouth full of salmon. “She’s great! Wants us to stay friends!” You make a gagging sound. “She’s also convinced she can cure me of my emotional unavailability.”

“You’re emotionally unavailable?” You ask laughing, and Jungkook nods vigorously. “Oh my God, I’m emotionally damaged. My ex was so kind to point that out when he cheated on me. I haven’t seen you at the meetings.”

“I’m done with the relationship thing,” He sighs, giving you his leftover broccoli, which you accept graciously.

“Girl, you are preaching to the congregation,” you cheer, raising your hands in agreement.

“Choir.”

“What?”

“‘Preaching to the choir’. You’re supposed to preach to the congregation. That’s the expression.” Jungkook takes a long swig of his hot chocolate.

“Did you understand what I was saying? Then don’t be a dick about it,” you smart and Jungkook laughs. He finds he does that a lot in your presence. “Anyway, I’m having some friends over tomorrow. Why don’t you come? You can meet some new people too.”

“I’m gonna have to check my schedule,” Jungkook says solemnly, pulling out a wad of cash to pay for his meal. “I’m really busy. I work at Vogue now,” you’re giggling. “It’s not just some little blog on the internet.” Your laughter drowns out everything else and Jungkook finds he likes being the one making you laugh.

Jungkook triple-checks the address you’ve texted him before knocking on the door labelled 2A. He hopes he’s picked up a decent enough wine as a housewarming gift. He’d even made sure to get the best alcohol content-to-cost ratio from the grocery store down the street from your place! He hasn’t even entered your apartment and he’s already sweating through his cardigan.

The door opens and it’s you, and this is the first time Jungkook sees you out of your usual business attire. Your hair is down, and you’re sporting skinny jeans and a tank top.

“Hey!” you say breathlessly. “You made it! C’mon!” He hands you the wine, which you graciously accept. You drag him into your living room and address the rather large gathering.

“Hey—HEY everybody! This here is Jungkook, he’s from LA!” There’s absolute crickets at your proclamation, and you roll your eyes. “He’s the reason I can afford all this beer.” You state plainly. At that, there’s a universal cheer that goes around the room.

Jungkook is generally wary of large crowds. Multiple strangers staring at him always makes him uncomfortable, but for some reason he finds himself blending in with your friends. Granted, he spends most of the evening with you playing wii bowling, jenga, and drunk card games with you and Jimin and two other friends – Taehyung and Namjoon.

The days turn to months just like this and Jungkook finds that life in New York is almost refreshing. It turns out he and Jimin have a lot in common, and that Jimin flirts incessantly with literally everyone he meets, not just him. After your party on that fateful day, he’s hit it off with Taehyung and Namjoon too. Taehyung’s a freelance artist, and Namjoon works in the music industry. He hangs out with you often too and finds that the two of you have easily become good friends. You don’t actually work for Vogue, working for a registered recruitment agency instead, so he doesn’t see you that often. He decides though, that this is a good thing. You’re definitely the one person he knows best in this city and he doesn’t want that becoming overcomplicated with having to see you as a colleague instead of a friend.

It is on a Friday night Jungkook finds himself dissolving in your extremely comfortable couch, after one too many beers, watching what he thinks is the worst romance film in existence. You’re totally enraptured though, a firm grip on your own drink.

“I swear all these movies have terrible music,” Jungkook mutters as the soundtrack crescendos and the female lead runs into the male lead’s arms in slow motion, fake tears staining her face.

“It’s so you know how to feel every single second,” you answer. Your voice is croaky from unshed tears as the female lead jumps into the male lead’s arms and he spins her round and round. Despite your newly found distaste for relationships, Jungkook has learned that you’re secretly a sucker for romance. He watches you as you mouth along to the dialogue.

“God, I wish my life were a movie sometimes,” you murmur, as the ending credits roll. “I’d always look good, and never have to go to the bathroom.” You turn to him abruptly. “And then, when I’m at my lowest point, some guy would chase me down the street, pour his heart out, and we’d kiss. Happily ever after.”

Jungkook groans, lowering himself further in your couch, chin now resting on his chest. You ignore him.

“Why don’t they ever make a movie about what happens after the big confession?”

“They do,” Jungkook replies instantly, taking a swig of his beer. “It’s called porn.” You slap his chest, sitting back comfortably next to him.

“God, I miss sex,” you say, your words slightly slurring together. The alcohol in your system has erased your filters, not that you had many in the first place. “Right? I mean, sometimes, you just need it.”

“There can never be just sex,” Jungkook mutters. “There’s always complications involved.”

“Yeah but why? What’s wrong with uncomplicated sex?”

“It’s womens’ fault,” Jungkook says and you sit up, affronted.

“Excuse me?”

“‘Hold me, let’s spend the rest of our lives together’” Jungkook mocks, making you scoff.

“As if men are any better. You’re all eyeing our pussies right from that first date.”

“I wish it wasn’t like that, y’know,” he continues. “It’s a physical act – a sport – if you will – like…. Bowling. Two people should be able to have sex like they’re going bowling.”

“For some weird ass reason, that made sense to me,” you say lazily. Jungkook laughs.

“Right, it’s just a sport. Maybe you shake hands at the end, and then get on with your life.” You nod. A comfortable silence follows. You pat him on his chest, small hands warm.

“More beer?” You’re downing yours. Jungkook nods sleepily and watches as you bend over to pick up the empty bottles and empty bags of chips from your floor and traipse over to your small kitchenette. You’re dressed in a simple tank and booty shorts and Jungkook can’t deny that, in your dimly lit apartment, your legs look good. He calls your name, and you look over at him.

“Let’s go bowling,” he says, tapping his foot. You blink at him in confusion. “Let’s have sex like we’re going bowling.” He repeats. You have the audacity to laugh out loud.

“You’re insane,” you tell him, walking back to the living room with more beer and a bowl of popcorn. Jungkook scowls and pulls himself up to sit up on your couch.

“Don’t laugh at me! This could be great. This could take all the weirdness out of it. We both want the same things.”

“We’ve been over this,” you say, tossing some popcorn in your mouth. “I don’t like you like that.”

“I don’t like you like that either,” he points out evenly. “That’s why this is perfect.” You chuckle.

“I don’t even know if I find you attractive!” you respond.

“That’s cute,” Jungkook says, standing up and bringing himself to his full height. You roll your eyes.

“Well, I do have a thing for jerks,” you mutter, which has Jungkook scoffing. “Do you even find me attractive?”

“That’s cute.” He repeats. You wave your hands and stand up in front of him.

“No, no, no,” you say. “Before you got to know my awesome personality – strictly physical – first impression of me?”

“This is just two people talking right? Sharing notes?” Jungkook affirms and you nod. “I liked your eyes – you have nice eyes.” He sighs. You’re looking at him, arms crossed.

“I liked your lips,” you offer. “Thought you might be a good kisser.”

“I am,” Jungkook admits solemnly, and you snort. “Your breasts,” he adds, tilting his chin towards your chest. You look down at it.

“What about them?”

“They intrigue me.”

“Aw, really?” you seem incredibly flattered. You give your breasts a congratulatory pat. “That’s a first – no ones ever called by boobs intriguing before. I liked your hands by the way. I’ve always got a thing for tattoos.” He watches you eye the ink on the back of his right hand, your gaze traveling up his arm where the tattoos disappear into the sleeves of his shirt.

“Mouth.” Jungkook responds quickly.

“Thighs.” You counter.

“Voice.”

“Butt.”

“Eyes.”

“You said that already,” you’re smiling now.

“I meant it,” Jungkook responds honestly. You’re looking at him now, eyes narrowed.

“You swear you don’t want anything from me other than sex?” You ask.

“You swear you don’t want anything from me other than sex?” he counters. “I know how you girls get.”

“Don’t be a pig.”

“A pig who’s got a cute butt.” He wiggles his eyebrows. You roll your eyes.

“No relationship,” you state. Jungkook nods. “No emotions. Just sex.”

“Whatever happens,” he adds. “We stay friends.” You nod back at him. The two of you stand there, staring at each other.

“Swear?” you ask.

“Swear,” he states evenly. “So…. I guess we should just start?” You laugh nervously.

“Okay then, let’s go to my bedroom.”

“Wait – what’s wrong with the couch?” Jungkok gestures wildly at your sofa, which he has to admit, is stupid comfortable. “It’s less emotional.”

“The bedroom has better light,” you point out. “And since we’re just friends, I don’t have to be insecure about my body.” Jungkook blinks at you, doe eyes wide.

“Aw, cmon,” he says. “You’re beautiful. You have nothing to be insecure about!” You fix him with a glare.

“That’s way too emotionally supportive. You need to lock that down.” You jab his chest with a pointed finger.

“Uh… your ass is way too bony?” he tries, watching your behind as you saunter towards your bedroom.

“Much better!” comes your reply, and he grins. Following you into your room, he watches with slight amazement as you tug off your top. “My nipples are sensitive,” you tell him conversationally. “I don’t really care for dirty talk, and had I known this was gonna happen, I’d have shaved my legs this morning.” You stand before him topless and he shrugs.

“I enjoy dirty talk, I sneeze sometimes when I come, and the socks stay on during sex. It’s a weird feet thing, nothing you need to be worried about.” He’s pulled off his shirt and tossed it on top of yours.

“Wait, feet gross me out too, look at that,” You grin. “Meant to be.” You tug your booty shorts off and stand in front of him wearing nothing but a bra and underwear. He whistles and you roll your eyes.

“Can you please be a little less fuckboy about this?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

“Girl, look what we about to do right now, and tell me this isn’t peak fuckboy behaviour,” he berates. You can’t argue.

“Fine, whatever, be a fratboy, but will you just start my tits are freezing—” But Jungkook doesn’t let you finish your sentence for he takes two strides towards you, cupping your face with his hands and smashing his lips down on yours. You make a muffled sound of surprise, but he ignores you, tilting his face to deepen the kiss. It takes you only a split second to reciprocate, and your hands travel up his sides to rest on his shoulders as you open up and let him explore your mouth.

Jungkook pushes you backwards without breaking the kiss until you’re falling on your bed. You scoot back until your back hits the headboard and you watch him as he stares at you, eyes dark and hair tousled. Without wasting any more time, Jungkook crawls over on all fours towards you. Giving you a chaste kiss on the lips, his tattooed hand travels down your neck, grazes over your shoulder, the underside of your breast, stomach and finally arriving to rest on your thigh. You watch him expectantly, bottom lip caught between your teeth, and he refuses to break eye contact with you s he tightens his grip on your thigh to yank you down so you’re lying down underneath him.

His lips latch onto your neck and you let out a whine that has blood rushing to his cock. He sucks a bruise right over your pulse before his hand comes up to lower the strap of your bra. Pulling the garment down, he lowers himself to press kisses and suck on your breast, before moving to the other side to repeat with the other one.

“Hurry up,” you murmur from under him, thighs rubbing against each other. Jungkook chuckles, and nibbles slightly on your nipple, drawing a whimper from you.

“Patience, princess. Good things come to those who wait,” his hand reaches down, and he strokes a single finger over your clothed core, and you shudder. “So wet already and I’ve barely done anything,” he notes, mouth still closed around your breast. Letting go with a slight plop, he looks at you hungrily. “Let me eat you out.”

You raise your eyebrows but do not object, and Jungkook moves down, pressing kisses to your navel, until he arrives between your thighs. Using both hands to spread your thighs apart, his gaze moves from you to your core. He buries his nose in your pussy without warning.

“You smell fucking amazing,” he tells you and your face heats up instantly, your arms coming up to cover your face in embarrassment.

“I told you, I don’t like dirty talk,” you say, your voice coming out in gasps. Jungkook smiles over your pussy, mouthing it over your underwear.

“Too bad,” he mutters against you, and your toes curl from the vibrations his voice causes through you. “I’m gonna tell you exactly what I want to do to you whether you like it or not.” Hooking a finger through your underwear, he moves it to the side. He licks a stripe up your folds, before burying his nose back into your pussy, tongue lapping at your juices. You’re writhing under him and he places his hands on your thighs to steady you. You’re gasping for air, little moans leaving your pretty pink lips.

Jungkook feels your hand tangle in his hair as he sloppily eats you out. You’re dripping on his tongue and he, in turn, is practically salivating at the taste of you. Your hand tightens its grip on his hair, and he feels you grind down on his tongue.

“O-oh my god,” you gasp. “Jungkook.” He pulls away from you and looks up at you. Your juices cover his lips and chin and you’re looking down at him, eyes blown out, hair in disarray.

“Yeah? You like that?” he groans out, and you nod desperately. “Like it when I fuck you with my tongue?”

“P-please,” you whisper, and he grins.

“Tell me what you want baby,” Your ears turn red at that and you look away. He climbs up to hover over your face and lowers his lips onto yours. His tongue is immediately in your mouth, its sloppy and wet and he knows you taste yourself on him. Its an exchange of spit mixed with your essence and when Jungkook pulls away, a string of saliva connects the two of you. He watches as it snaps and dribbles down the corner of your lips. You’re panting now. “Tell me.”

“Your fingers,” you mutter, clearly embarrassed. Jungkook’s smile widens.

“My fingers where?”

“C’mon Jeon, don’t be a dick.”

“Alright, I’ll stop,” Jungkook answers noncommittally, pulling away to sit back on your bed. You moan and your hand covers his wrist in an attempt to stop him. He grins.

“Your fingers inside me.” You answer, face as red as a strawberry. Jungkook’s grin widens and he leans back down to place a small kiss on the corner of your lips. His hand travels back down to between your thighs and he strokes your folds with his index finger.

Without warning, he shoves two fingers in you, and you moan, small hands curling around his biceps, nails digging into his skin.  He buries his nose in the crook of your neck, and your hand tangles in his hair again. It’s quiet except for your gasps and moans and the sound of his fingers steadily pumping in and out of your pussy. He can feel that you’re near your high, so he carelessly shoves a third finger inside you, increasing his speed. Before you know it, you’re chasing your high, coming all around his fingers with a loud squelching sound and a gasp.

“Like music to my ears,” Jungkook hums, nudging his nose against your jaw. Your hands caress his chest, sides before one travels down to palm the tent in his jeans. Jungkook gasps, biting down on your shoulder. Boldened by his reaction, you twist your hips, so your knee rubs against his crotch and Jungkook freezes. You take this opportunity to flip him over, so you’re settled on top of him, your hair spilling around you. Jungkook lies back on your pillow, bringing his fingers that were just in you up to your mouth. You run your tongue along them, and he shoves them deep in your throat before pulling them out and spreading the mixture of saliva and your wetness across your face.

Your hands spread across his chest as you grind down on him and he groans.

“My turn,” you whisper, leaning forward and placing a chaste kiss on his lips. Your hips are swirling over his crotch as your mouth moves from his lips to kiss his jaw, neck and then moving down to swirl your tongue over a perk nipple. You’ve undone his pants and he takes no time pushing them down. You palm him over his boxers before pulling them down too and letting his dick spring free. You suck in a breath, tongue hungrily swiping out to wet your lips.

You waste no time to take him in your mouth. Unlike Jungkook, you’re not a teaser and Jungkook throws his head back and groans as your lips wrap around his length. Your head bobs up and down between his legs and Jungkook closes his eyes and loses himself to the feeling. His fingers tangle in your hair, gripping it tightly until his hips are out of control and he’s fucking up into your mouth. You let him, slackening your jaw, tongue lying flat against the underside of his dick. Jungkook gets high off of the sound of you gagging on his cock, spit dripping down him and onto your bedsheets. He’s so fucking close he’s seeing stars.

It takes all his self control to sit up and signal you to stop. You look at him, lips swollen and wet, a mixture of precum and saliva messily splayed across your face.

“No more,” he rasps, pulling you close and flipping you over so he’s on top again. “Need to be inside you right now. Condom?” You breathe out that you’re on the pill before smiling coyly up at him. Jungkook is painfully hard and wastes no time to slip inside of you. You let out your loudest moan yet, and he waits for you to get accustomed to his length in you.

“You can move,” you tell him, voice hoarse. Jungkook nods and pulls out only to slam right back in you with a groan. The first few strokes are long and languid until you’re pinching his nipple and motioning him to take you harder.

“I’m not a fucking porcelain doll,” you ground out. “Fuck me like you mean it Jeon.” Jungkook grits his teeth and pulls out of you completely. You’re about to ask him what’s wrong when he flips you over like a ragdoll so you’re lying on your stomach.

“Fine,” he grunts. “You’re such a brat.” You shiver at his tone and he’s gripping your ass to prop it up, pushing your face with one hand so you’re buried face down in your pillow.

Without warning he shoves himself back in you, one hand on your hip, the other still pushing your face into your mattress. He sets an unforgiving pace, ramming into you without pause until your muffled screams could be heard in your pillow.

“How’s that?” he grinds out, planting a smack on your ass as you moan. “That hard enough for you?”

“Y-yes,” you manage to scream. He shoves two fingers into your mouth, spanking your ass between thrusts until you’re smarting and red. Your garble moans around his fingers, drool lacing your pillow until he’s twisting his hand back in your hair and pulling you up flush against him. Grabbing one of your breasts he bites down on your shoulder.

“Fuck you feel so good around my cock,” he whispers in your ear and you shiver. Your ass is sore, but Jungkook shows no mercy, stroking it with his right hand and continuing to smack it. His hand moves around to rub over your clit and you almost fall over at the stimulation but his other hand clutching your breast keeps you upright. “You’re gonna cum now sweetheart? Milk my cock for all its worth?”

“Oh my god, Jungkook please,” you’re almost sobbing

“Come on baby, you can do it,” he croons, and you look over your shoulder at him and he wastes no time in closing the distance and planting his lips on yours. Without warning you’re coming, and that too all over Jungkook’s hand, dripping down your thighs and onto the bed. He’s not far behind, your convulsing pussy driving him over the edge before he’s releasing his load in you. You collapse on all fours in front of him as he pulls out.

“Damn,” he says, bringing his hand up to show you. “So, you’re a squirter, huh?”

“What?” your ears turn red as you look back at him. “Oh, my fucking god.” You watch as Jungkook licks his fingers clean without hesitation before collapsing on the bed next to you.

“Don’t tell me that was your first time squirting,” he grins. You look away in embarrassment, and he props himself up on his elbow, head resting on his hand. “Wow I’m just that good.”

“You’re such an ass,” you mutter. Jungkook cackles in delight.

You and Jungkook fall into a routine after that. There are multiple trysts, mostly at one of your apartments after work, a few in the bathroom of restaurants while you’re out with your friends, and one (1) time at work when you arrived for your weekly lunch date wearing the tiniest skirt Jungkook had ever fucking seen.

Sex with you is easy. Being friends with you is also easy. Jungkook can’t believe how simple you make his life. You’re a good friend, always willing to listen. He tells you things about his life back in LA, his ex and how thankful he was that he was finally out of a five-year relationship. You talk about your family, your sisters, your childhood. There are still lines the two of you don’t cross. Jungkook knows your last relationship left you scarred, but you never mention it and Jungkook never mentions his father. Some things are better left unsaid.

It isn’t until one day when you’ve dragged Jungkook out to Macy’s on the hunt for a new outfit you need to go meet a potential new recruit, that he manages to find the missing puzzle piece.

He’s sat through you trying out at least fifteen different shirts, all of which look the same to him, but you insist they’re not. It’s after you’ve finally picked out a dress shirt, some trousers and a new pair of “killin” shoes that the two of you collapse in a café across from the department store, your bags surrounding you.

“God, nothing feels better than a day full of shopping for shit,” you say, taking a huge sip out of your (soy) cappuccino. Jungkook rolls his eyes.

“I’ll show you exactly what’s better tonight” he mutters and its your turn to roll your eyes.

“Can you please keep it in your pants for a minute,” you groan. “I’m actually nervous about recruiting this guy.”

“Please,” Jungkook huffs. “You’re gonna be fine, you’re a natural!”

“Really?” You’re raising your eyebrows. “After the shit show you had to put up with?”

“Excuse me?” Jungkook pretends to be offended. “I’m here, aren’t I? You won me over.”

“Barely. For fucks sake you arrived to see me on the fucking baggage belt.” you huff, placing your head down on the table. Jungkook watches you, a twinge of sympathy running through him.

“Look, you are good at what you do. I don’t think I’m an easy person to convince, if I do say so myself,” he says, voice gentler. You look up at him slowly, figure still hunched. “Maybe you’re a little unorthodox but hey! We need someone like that. Just be yourself, you’re gonna be fine.”

“You think so?” you’re pouting, and Jungkook’s heart melts a little.

“100%”

You’re smiling faintly at him when the two of you hear your name being called. You freeze and look past Jungkook, a glassy look overtaking your eyes.

“It is you!” the voice comes closer and Jungkook turns around to look at what is possibly the most beautiful man he’s ever seen in his life. He’s tall, hair pushed back in a neat part, wearing a three-piece suit. In front of him, Jungkook feels like a giant toddler in his sweatpants and colorful hoodie and messy hair.

“Seokjin.” Your voice is hushed and oddly quiet, something Jungkook has never seen before. He eyes the two of you curiously.

“How have you been?” The man – Seokjin – asks. “It’s been forever.”

“Yeah,” you clear your throat. “It really has.” It’s awkward for a minute until Seokjin’s eyes land on Jungkook. His eyes travel to the cups of coffee in front of the two of you, and something flits across his expression.

“I’m sorry, are you two--,” he starts, and you’re rushing to correct him, but for some reason, Jungkook’s body moves on instinct.

“I’m Jungkook,” he says, getting up and offering a hand.

“Seokjin,” the man answers, taking it and shaking it firmly. “It’s nice to meet you.” There’s another beat of silence and then a girl is running toward you, calling Seokjin’s name. Seokjin freezes as the girl catches up to him, laying a hand on his shoulder to catch her breath. Jungkook feels you freeze up even more, if possible.

“Hi!” she says brightly, looking from Jungkook to you. “Friends of yours Jinnie?” she addresses the taller man. Jungkook doesn’t fail to notice that she’s just as beautiful as Seokjin. Pretty people really do stick together. You stand up abruptly behind Jungkook and he feels you clutch at the back of his hoodie, out of Seokjin’s gaze. Seokjin clears his throat.

“U-uhm, this is Joohyun,” he offers. “My fiancée.” At this point you’re tugging wildly at the back of Jungkook’s hoodie and he isn’t stupid. He gets the hint.

“It’s very nice to meet you,” he says, plastering on his best fake-charming smile. Joohyun seems to buy it because she grins back. “But we really are in a rush. Places to be! Nice meeting you guys!” and he turns around without another word, grabs your hand in one of his and picks up your bags in a single fluid motion with his other. Then he’s pulling you out of there, away from the café, away from Seokjin and out into the busy street.

You walk behind him wordlessly, hand still clasped in his and he drags you up a few blocks until you’re at Bryant Park. The two of you find a bench and collapse in it, slightly out of breath.

“Thanks,” you whisper, after a while.

“No problem.” Jungkook replies.

“You’re not gonna ask?”

“Should I ask?” He turns to look at you. You chuckle weakly and lean back to stare up at the tall trees.

“My ex-boyfriend,” you say. “Obviously.” Jungkook had figured that but he nods along anyway. “He—uhm—cheated on me,” you continue and Jungkook suddenly feels white-hot rage curling inside him. You’d mentioned it before on the first day of his new job, at brunch, but it hadn’t registered until now. “With the girl we just met.”

“What the actual fuck.” He mutters, running a hand through his hair.

“He’s the reason why I can’t--,” you start, then stop. You take a deep breath before continuing. “Why I can’t get myself to enter into another relationship.” Jungkook doesn’t know what to say to that but it doesn’t seem like you care. Now that you’re talking, the floodgates are open.

“We’d been together since college. I imagined we’d be endgame y’know? Everyone always told me how lucky I was to bag a man so attractive and smart and I felt lucky. Jin was always the best, the most caring, the most loving. We had some really great times together. But then… I don’t know… college ended and careers happened and I struggled to find a job straight out of university, while Seokjin comes from a long line of rich businessmen and he was already working for his dad’s company by graduation. We drifted after that. A part of me resented his privilege, I was envious of what he had. I took it out on him, and I guess he-he—”

“That does not give him the right to cheat on you.” Jungkook stops you. “I get being unhappy in relationships, I really do, but in no way is that the correct response.” Your eyes are glassy and full of unshed tears.

“She’s like him, y’know,” you continue, sniffing. “Beautiful, successful, I heard she owns a clothing line. Seeing them together it made me realize that I was the anomaly.”

“Don’t.” Jungkook says. “Don’t put yourself down. Look at you!” He gestures at you and you look up. “You’re smart, cute, successful. He’s trash for not recognizing that.”

“No, what I am is broken,” you give him a small, watery smile. “I haven’t been able to let anyone in since Seokjin and I broke almost a year ago.” Jungkook sighs and shuffles closer to you. Sniffling, you lean over to rest your head on his shoulder. “Thanks for today Kook,” you murmur against him. “I don’t know what I’d have done if you weren’t there.”

Jungkook sighs and leans over to kiss the top of your head lightly. The two of you sit there, amongst the chirping birds and trees, leaning on each other. Jungkook squeezes your hand and tries not to think of the unfamiliar feeling curling inside his stomach.

Things change after that. Jungkook finds that the two of you are almost domestic with each other. You stay over more often, and he finds you in his kitchen in the mornings, flipping pancakes wearing nothing but his button down. It’s so normal that Jungkook often has to take a step back and remember that the two of you are just friends. Seasons change from autumn into winter and a sheet of snow covers Manhattan.

“My sister’s in town,” Jungkook tells you one morning, offhandedly.

“Older or younger?” You’re making pancakes in his kitchen and you set down a plate of them in front of him before returning to make yourself some. Jungkook shakes the can of whipped cream next to him before squirting himself some.

“Older,” he grins. “She lives in LA with Dad and she’s in New York for business.” It’s the first time Jungkook has mentioned his father in front of you since the day the two of you met. You don’t prod. “My parents are separated,” he offers.

“I figured,” you shrug, sitting down across from him and refusing the can of whipped cream when he offers it. “Do you hate him or something?”

“What? No!” Jungkook laughs. “We just aren’t close that’s all. Everyone expects me to be this prodigy because of my Dad’s reputation, but I barely know the guy. Anyway, my sister wants to meet you.”

“Me?” You’re surprised.

“Yeah she wants to see who it was that convinced me to leave LA.”

“Oh, so that’s my reputation in the Jeon household now is it?” Jungkook gives you a cheeky grin. “How nerve-wracking—you sure you want me meeting your family? Makes us sound more than we are.”

“It’s not like that,” Jungkook argues, ignoring the faint twinge of disappointment somewhere deep within himself. “She’s only in town for three days. Come get some brunch with us tomorrow.”

“Fine. But you need to do something for me in return,” Your mouth is full of pancake and your hair is mussed but Jungkook smiles endearingly. “I have this… thing I got invited to tonight and I need you to be my date.”

“Are you sure? It makes us sound more than we are,” Jungkook throws your words back at you and you kick his shin under the table.

“Shut up, it’s my childhood friend’s Christmas party and our families are close so I have to go but I don’t have a plus-one and I need you there to keep me sane. Seokjin’s gonna be there.”

“You’re asking if I want to go with you,” he starts slowly. “To a Christmas party. As your date.”

“Well, yeah,” you shrug. “We go, drink at the open bar until we can’t see straight and then come home and you pound me into your tempur-pedic.”

“You’re disgusting,” he grins. “But, okay, I’m in--what the hell.”

“Do you have a tux?”

“Girl look who you speaking to,” he gestures at himself, sitting up straight and throwing his chest out. “Of fucking course, I have a tux.”

Wow, Jungkook thinks to himself that evening as you stand in your door in front of him. Long olive-green silk hugging every curve of your body, you grin up at him. You’d tamed your hair by pinning one side up, clutch in one hand, and feet in black pumps.

“Well?” you grin. Jungkook whistles, shoving his hands in his plain black tuxedo.

“Yeah well, you clean up nice too Jeon,” you pat him cheerfully on his chest, causing a warm feeling to flutter through him. “Let’s go do this thing.” You straighten his tie, and Jungkook swallows. He doesn’t know when exactly it happened, but over the course of time you really have him wrapped around your little finger.

The two of you uber down, your warm body next to his as you tell him some inconsequential story about your high school prom.

“We didn’t have prom at my school,” he tells you and you gape at him. “We had sports day though.”

“That is so sad.”

“Not really,” Jungkook shrugs. “Social gatherings are terrifying.”

“Never would’ve pegged you as the socially anxious type Jeon.”

“Well I am,” Jungkook rests his elbow on the car door, his chin in his hand to look outside. “I can’t believe I’m going to this rich people thing with you.”

“C’mon! It’ll be fun!” you send twin finger guns his way and he smiles wantonly.

“No seriously,” he says, looking at you, chin still balanced on his hand. “Thank you. You always manage to take the edge off and make things less intimidating and make me feel like I can step out of my comfort zone.” You blink at him, grin fading at his sincerity.

“What’re friends for, right?” you say, your voice quiet.

“Right,” he says back, just as quiet.

“You know,” you ramble on. “When I first saw you, you did totally strike me as a stereotypical fratboy. I was a little scared.”

“Of me?” Jungkook points at himself, surprised. You lean back in your seat and rest your head back.

“Yeah,” you mutter. “You reminded me of the guys I went to high school with. The jerks that ranked the girls by how fuckable they were and shoved kids into lockers and giggled at you as you tried to present your history project to the class.”

“Why didn’t you just beat them up?” Jungkook isn’t offended by your generalization. He knows what you mean. “The you I know would’ve stabbed someone’s eye out with a pencil.”

“I was different when I was sixteen,” you smile. “But you’re right, now I’m not beyond stabbing someone’s eyes out with a pencil. Anyway, I’m sorry for judging you.”

“It happens,” Jungkook shrugs but you shake your head vigorously.

“No, you’re sweet,” you continue. “I’m so happy we met. And that we’re friends now.”

“I’m glad too,” Jungkook grins, punching you lightly on your shoulder. “Are you sure you can do this? I saw how you were when you saw Seokjin that day.” You bite your lip and look out the window.

“I’ll be fine,” you say slowly. “I have you.” Jungkook blinks and gulps.

“Listen, there’s something I need to tell you—” he starts but the uber is arriving at the venue and you’re getting ready to step out of the car. Jungkook stares at the ceiling before getting himself out. Checking in your coats at the entrance, the two of you enter together.

You were right, Jungkook notes. This isn’t just some Christmas party. Lights sparkle down at him and the massive Christmas tree in front of him is decorated to the nines. The bar is sparkling with decorations, and the tables are decorated with fancy centerpieces and champagne flutes. People wearing black tie are mingling, men in tuxedos, women in floor length gowns.

“God,” you whisper next to him.

“You didn’t tell me you were also Richie Rich rich,” Jungkook whispers back and you jab him in the side with your elbow. “Oh my god you’re a trust fund baby! You’re Gossip Girl!”

“Oh my god shut up,” you’re giggling. “I’m the family’s black sheep, fortunately for you. I refused to major in what my parents wanted me to major in and that was apparently the final straw. I’m surprised Yoongi even bothered to invite me – we haven’t spoken in months. There he is now.”

A man shorter than Jungkook is making his way towards them. He’s got effortlessly tousled black hair and his ears are adorned with many earrings. His eyes flit lazily towards Jungkook before landing on you and he’s pulling you into a hug.

“Yoongi!” you say grinning, returning his embrace and he smiles, changing his entire demeanour. “How are you, this is amazing!”

“Thought I’d do something to get the old gang together,” he shrugs. “I’m happy you came.”

“This is Jungkook, we—uhm—worked together.”

“Ah one of her recruits huh?” Yoongi is shaking Jungkook’s hand. “Min Yoongi, pleasure to meet you. Please make yourself comfortable.”

“Thank you,” Jungkook is sure his palms are sweating again. He picks up a flute of champagne from a waiter passing by and takes a huge gulp. You and Yoongi exchange pleasantries for a little while longer and then he leaves the two of you to greet some other guests that are just arriving.

“Wanna go to the bar?” You’re pulling him in the direction of the alcohol before he can say yes. You wave down the bartender and order your drink and turn to Jungkook. “You okay?”

“Why? Is it obvious I’m freaking out?”

“You country bumpkins are so cute,” You pinch his cheek. “What were you trying to tell me in the cab?” Jungkook looks sideways at you, but sees who’s approaching and clears his throat.

Seokjin looks even better than Jungkook remembered, in a well-tailored suit, holding a glass of wine. You turn and freeze momentarily.

“Jin! Hey,” your voice is steady and Jungkook is almost proud of you.

“I’m glad you made it,” Seokjin mirrors Yoongi’s words from earlier. “You didn’t last year.”

“Yeah, well,” you say sheepishly. “There were just some people I couldn’t face last year.”

Ouch, Jungkook thinks, on Seokjin’s behalf. If Seokjin hears the slight bite in your tone, he pretends not to notice.

“You’re Jungkook, right?” Seokjin’s addressing Jungkook now. “From the mall.”

“Yeah, good to see you again man,” Jungkook smiles and the smile Seokjin gives him in return is incredibly genuine. Your hand is snaking down and gripping Jungkook’s, and he gives you a squeeze, something that doesn’t escape Seokjin.

“Are you two together?” he asks conversationally, and Jungkook is about to vehemently deny the question, when you squeeze his hand back.

“We are,” you answer, much to Jungkook’s shock. He almost chokes on the last of his champagne before he puts the empty glass down on the bar. “We met at work.” He’s trying to calm himself down, trying to stop that warm feeling bursting through him again. You talk to Seokjin for a few more minutes before he’s leaving the two of you to your own devices again.

“So, you beat me to what I wanted to tell you in the cab earlier,” Jungkook grins. You look up at him and he leans in, placing a chaste kiss on your lips. “That I like you,”

“W-what’re you talking about?” Your voice is barely above a whisper. Jungkook leans in and nudges his nose against the column of your throat.

“I meant what I said,” he mumbles, pressing kisses under your jaw. “I’m asking you out. Officially.”

“We’re in public,” you’re hissing, firm grip on his wandering hands. Jungkook grins and leans back against the bar, shoving both hands into the pockets of his trousers. “And you don’t mean that.”

“Of course I do,” he schools his expression into one of sincerity. “You’re awesome, I love spending time with you. We have a lot of fun. Am I wrong?”

“You’re just being reckless—”

“Believe me, I am a lot of things, and reckless isn’t one of them.” Jungkook frowns. “Do you not feel the same way? I just assumed—”

“No, no,” your eyes are wide, panicked. “I like you too Jungkook, of course I do.”

“Then what’s stopping you?” You’re looking at him, eyes wide and he watches your gaze flit past him over his shoulder. Raising his eyebrows, he turns his head over his shoulder to see what you’re staring at. His mouth forms a straight line when he realizes its not a what, but a who.

“Seokjin,” he says, the bitterness leaking into his voice. “You’re still in love with him. Of course, why didn’t I see it before.”

“No! Jungkook, that’s not—”

“So, bringing me here as your date, what you said just now to Seokjin – what was that? A ploy to make him jealous? Hoping he’d run back to you? What, you didn’t wanna show up alone in front of him, so I was your safe fallback?” Jungkook is seeing white, his fists clenched, embarrassment and humiliation washing through him. “I’m just a distraction to you.” Your bottom lip is trembling now and you’re vigorously shaking your head, but Jungkook feels so empty and suddenly finds he doesn’t care. “I’m done. I don’t need to set myself up to get hurt by coming in between whatever this is you have going on with that guy.” He’s pulling his tie loose.

“No, don’t leave,” you’re begging, small hands grasping his arm in a last-ditch attempt. Jungkook sighs, untangling himself from your hold. “Please, Jungkook, hear me out—”

“I hear you loud and clear,” he says, a sad smile breaking out onto his face. Pulling off his tie he undoes the first two buttons on his shirt, trying to breathe. Clenching his fist, he’s walking past you before stopping to turn and take one last look at you. “We’re still friends okay? I just need some time. And for the record, telling you this as a friend, you’ll never be free for as long as you’re seeking Seokjin’s—or anyone’s – validation.”

And then he’s walking out of there, away from you, from a life that never really belonged to him. All he wants to do is to get out of this stifling suit throw on his sweatpants, drown himself in an obscene amount of chocolate and play Overwatch all night.

“Slow down, you’re gonna throw up those eggs if you don’t slow down,” Jungkook’s sister chastises from across the table. “Jesus, you and Junghyun are both such fast eaters because you don’t chew. You’re gonna die early.”

“I’d like to die now,” Jungkook answers, his mouth full of medium-poached eggs and hollandaise.

“So, you got rejected, what’s the big deal?” She asks. “You’re a grown man. Pick yourself up, dust yourself off and move the fuck on.”

“Easy for you to say Miss-I’m-engaged-to-the-love-of-my-life” Jungkook doesn’t mean to sound bitter. “How am I even going to face her after all this. I’m an idiot.”

“You really are,” his sister responds, elbow resting on the table and chin balanced on that elbow. “You always like to think you’re this cool, collected, distant guy when in reality you’re a giant softie that believes in soulmates.”

“I do not.”

“Yeah,” she grins. “You do,” She sighs. “Look Jungkook, that’s not a bad thing. In fact, it’s endearing, and there’s nothing wrong with giving yourself completely to someone. Just make sure whoever you’re giving yourself to is worth it.”

“You don’t think she’s worth it?” Jungkook asks glumly.

“She’s confused, it seems. And that is never a good thing, not in relationships.”

“So, what do I do? I’m still gonna see her at work occasionally.”

“Don’t do anything. The ball’s in her court. You’ve bared yourself to her already and she can either accept that or reject it. And eventually, it’ll get easier to be around her. You might even go back to being friends. And try to move on, will you?”

“With whom?”

“I have someone at work I can introduce you to,” she hums. “If you’re willing.”

“Whatever,” Jungkook mutters. “How’s dad?” His sister stares at him, expression suddenly serious.

“Well,” she sighs. “That’s also why I’m here to see you.” She says quietly

Jungkook is avoiding you. You may not be the most intelligent person in any room, but it doesn’t take a genius to figure that out. He hasn’t replied to any of your texts, dutifully turning his read receipts off so you don’t even know if he’s seen your messages. Whenever you drop by his work for one of your meetings, his office is always closed. You suspect Park Jimin has something to do with Jungkook knowing exactly when you’ll be by the company. When you corner Jimin about this though, he’s tight-lipped, always regarding you with a slightly judgemental stare. It’s clear where his alliance lies.

You could always drop by his place, but even you admit that’s bordering on being pushy. He did say he needed space but its almost been a month and you haven’t as much as seen his coconut head. The New Year passes just like that and you celebrate by finishing two entire bottles of wine by yourself and watching Love Actually for the twenty-seventh time. Yoongi invites you to his New Years’ party too but you decline, not wanting a reminder of what went down at his last bash. You also want nothing to do with Seokjin.

At first you were angry over what Jungkook had said to you before he’d left that party. But soon after, once you’d calmed down, you’d realized he was right. Seokjin was never going to look at you and it was foolish to wait around while he carried on with his life. You deserved better, and Jungkook had taught you that. The realization was oddly freeing.

More than anything, you miss your friend. The coffee dates, the weekly brunches, someone to watch cheesy movies with. And, you admit shamefully, you also mis his dick. Jungkook had been right, you should’ve given the two of you a chance.

It isn’t until a cold morning in February, a whole two and a half months after the entire fiasco, that you finally see Jungkook. He’s standing outside the building, winter coat on and a burgundy scarf around his neck. He looks out of character, dressed like a businessman instead of the usual college-boy sweatpants and baggy t-shirts that you’re used to seeing him in. His hair is longer than it was when you saw him last, curling slightly at the ends. It suits him. He’s chatting happily with Namjoon about something, waving his hands around descriptively, matching cups of coffees in their hands.

You hesitate to get out of your uber, but you’re late for your nine am. There’s no way to avoid him, with the two of them standing right in front of the entrance. You step out of the cab hesitatingly and Jungkook sees you right away. If he’s nervous about running into you, he doesn’t show it. Instead, his face softens into a small smile and he gives a small wave in greeting. You return his greeting shyly.

“Oh, hey,” Namjoon greets, as you approach the two of them slowly. “Got a meeting today?”

“Yeah,” you reply, eyes travelling from Jungkook to Namjoon. “I’m late.”

“I’ll leave you guys to it then,” there’s nothing sly in Namjoon’s tone, but the guy is like, insanely intelligent and you don’t doubt his intentions. “Gotta see Yoongi about this newest track I’ve been working on.”

Jungkook bids Namjoon goodbye before the two of you are making your way inside.

“How have you been?” you’re the first to break the silence. Jungkook takes a sip of his drink.

“Good,” he answers. “I finally beat Breath of the Wild.”

“Took you long enough,” you tease, and he chuckles. You follow him into the elevator and watch as he presses your floor for you, along with his. “I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Yeah, I,” he clears his throat. “I went to LA to see my dad,” You whip your head to look at him. “He wasn’t well so I worked remotely for a month or so.” So, he was never actually avoiding you, he wasn’t even in the city! You feel oddly relieved.

“How is he?”

“Fine,” Jungkook replies. You can’t help but notice that his animated self from earlier is gone, replaced by someone more somber. “I spent Christmas there.” The elevator doors open at your floor and you step out.

“Listen Jungkook,” you say quickly turning around. He pauses, pressing the button to keep the doors open, and looks at you questioningly. “I’m sorry – for everything.”

“Don’t apologize for your feelings,” that small smile is back.

“No! I mean – I’d really like it if we can be friends again,” you’re panicking. “I’ve missed you.” He grins at that, reminding you of the Jungkook you’d been intimate with.

“I’ve missed you too,” he answers, and something in your chest lifts. “Of course, we’re still friends.”

“Okay—wanna get brunch with me this week? The usual place.”

“I’ll text you.” Is all he says before he lets the doors close, leaving you standing there, slightly breathless.

You spend the rest of your day with a bounce in your step.

Things return to normal after that – somewhat. You and Jungkook start hanging out again, but you can tell something is off. He’s cheerful as always, but he’s holding back. It’s obvious that whatever he offered you that day at Yoongi’s party is no longer on the table. He’s guarded, confides in you less, heart locked away in a place you can’t even begin to reach.

But he’s here, in your life, tangible and real, and you tell yourself that this is enough. Until one day, when it all comes crashing down.

You’re at his place, and he’s retreated back into the kitchen to get the two of you more beers. His phone lights up, vibrating on the coffee table in front of you. It’s not that you mean to pry, but your eyes unconsciously travel to the notification that’s blaring on his screen.

1 New Message Jieun: Hey! We still on for tomorrow night, right? Gonna wear that dress you like 😉

You swallow. Of course, he’s seeing someone. Everything makes sense – the reason he was able to have you back in his life was because he’d moved on and rightfully so. The two of you aren’t teenagers – you are adults, and he is well within his rights to find someone else when you’d so obviously rejected him. You wonder, why then, your chest aches.

Jungkook reappears, holding two bottles of beer in each hand. Placing them on the coffee table next to his phone, he offers you one, which you accept, plastering a grin on your face. He grabs one himself, picking up his phone and collapsing on the couch next to you to turn his attention back to the movie that the two of you had been watching. From the corner of your eye, you watch as he checks his messages, eyes lighting up, a smile on his face as he types up a response.

You spend the rest of the night holding in tears.

You invite Taehyung to yours the next day as a distraction. He insists on watching some documentary about gothic architecture, but you don’t mind. Whatever takes your mind off Jungkook. And what he might be doing right now.

“You know, you are insane,” Taehyung comments offhandedly.

“Excuse me?”

“The both of you,” he continues, lounging on your couch a little too comfortably. “Insanity.” You continue to stare at him, and he sighs. “You and Jeon.”

“What about Jungkook?”

“He’s in love with you,” Taehyung answers plainly, as though he’s telling you today’s weather forecast. Your stomach drops. “And you like him too, but are too dumb to admit it.” You scoff.

“He has a date tonight. That hardly screams ‘in love with me’” You point out. It’s Taehyung’s turn to scoff.

“Please,” he chuckles, arms coming up to rest behind his head. He sits like your dad. “It’s only his third date with that girl. It’s nothing serious.”

“And he’s not in love with me.”

“He is,” Taehyung insists. “Told me so himself. I wasn’t gonna say anything because it’s none of my damn business but the two of you are so atrociously stupid—”

“He…told you?” you pause the documentary.

“Yes. Last week,” Taehyung is talking as though he hasn’t dropped the biggest bombshell on you. “But he’s putting himself out there because he thinks you don’t feel the same way. Frankly, I’m tired.”

“Why are you telling me this?” you whisper. Taehyung checks his watch.

“Because, you still have time. Time to go get him.” You laugh.

“He’s not even gonna be back yet,” you point out. “Plus, what if I go there and he’s having her over? Third dates basically mean sex.”

“He’s not gonna sleep with her.” Taehyung tells you.

“Oh, and I assume he told you that too—”

“He did.”

“What sort of conversation were the two of you even having?” You’re incredibly confused

“A deep one,” Taehyung’s monotone voice is starting to irk you. “I took him out for tea. He’s home right now – by the way.”

“Why do you know so much Kim Taehyung?”

“It’s because I’m always minding my own, and vibing,” he informs you. “Go get your man, for fucks sake.” You’re already running around grabbing your keys and coat.

“Thanks Tae,” you mutter, giving the sleepy boy a kiss on the cheek. He smiles, leaning further back into your couch and turns his documentary back on as you rush out of your apartment.

There aren’t any ubers around your place at this time on a Friday night and you’re stuck taking the subway to Jungkook’s. Tapping your foot impatiently on the 4,5 line you rush out as soon as the train doors open, running to the building you know he lives in.

Your mind is blank as you stand outside his place and ring the doorbell. The faint music coming from the inside stops and you barely have time to second guess your choices before the door is opening and Jungkook is standing in front of you. Dressed in a crinkled dress shirt and black slacks, it looks like he got home not too long ago. He looks at you in surprise. Before he can open his mouth and ask why you’re standing on his doorstep wearing your sweatpants under your winter jacket looking haggard, you step forward, crushing your lips onto his.

His response isn’t immediate, you’ve caught him by surprise. But slowly he melts into the kiss, arms coming up to rest on your waist. You grasp wildly at the shirt on his shoulders.

“Are you sure about this?” he’s whispering, shutting the door behind you as you push him further into his apartment. “Know that I want more?”

“More sure than of anything else I’ve been in my life,” you whisper back, pulling away. “And whatever you want, I want it too. I want you. I’m sorry it took me so long to realize that.”

“How did you know that I still wanted this?” he asks, before his face clears of the confusion and he’s grinning like he knows exactly how.

“We’re really gonna have to send Taehyung an expensive bottle of wine soon,” you grin back. “But first, I need you out of these pants.”

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

tuesday again 1/4/22

congratulations to everyone in general but me specifically for surviving 2021 bc it cut a little fine there at times. anyway this week we have an inadvertent theme of How Do We Improve This Fucked-Up City?

listening killer queen. may the new year have this much rollicking glam as my favorite queen song

reading Geiger #1-6 with writer GEOFF JOHNS and artist GARY FRANK uniting with superstar colorist BRAD ANDERSON.

this is postapoc, to me. this is some good cheesy shit that leans all the way into it. we’re in vegas babey! everyone shuttles around in big beautiful tunnels between and under the casinos! each themed casino has a themed boss! they all hate each other! we got some excellent nuclear knights shit! the brotherhood of steel WISHES they were this fucked up! LOOK AT THIS MAP

i am pretty hype to watch the politics and backstabbing play out, with a side of accidental child acquisition.

watching the book of boba fett. love star wars concepts, hate their execution, simple as. i had a number of complaints to make here bc unfortunately i am That Fucking Guy about star wars. i generally have extremely low standards for this franchise! it’s fun to look at and that’s all that really matters. the extended parkour sequence did make me laugh tho- it felt like a very weird way of some exec going “what did kids who saw the prequel trilogy also like? what was cool in aught oh three? parkour? they liked parkour then they’ll probably still think it’s sick now”

[this used to be a super whiny paragraph about how this franchise is never going to be the thing i want it to be]

my fondest hope for this show is that it looks at boba and fixes some shit. for example, if, instead of making him a weird tradcath nevernude incel as per the old EU books, they simply made him ace, that would preserve what they wanted to keep about the core of the character (man who follows traditions as a sort of grief ritual and who simply does not have time for anything that doesn’t get him closer to his goal, which is being the best at his job) and tweak it for the better. sort of an anti-james bond, if you will. i have not identified as ace for Some Years and am not an expert on the #representation the community is currently angling for, but a family of coldblooded bounty killers probably isn’t it? however jango was absolutely aroace and you cannot change my mind about that.

the concept of taking one extremely bad city (mos espa) and making it into something better is literally tailor-made for me, i love that shit. i love seeing people get frustrated at how interconnected everything is and how much tiny things matter. cities COULD be such incredible places to live but they Aren’t. this show is (so far) doing a good job of showing boba as someone who’s pretty good with the small stuff but is having some trouble adjusting his methods and worldview to a larger scale.

two other nitpicky things: i have read so much fic where twi’lek lekkusign was a huge thing (and it’s been established canon for quite some time!) that’s it’s still sort of a shock to see them so still on the screen? we have the technology. we can make those things move. disney is literally drowning in money and i demand better costuming and practical props

also get these fucking boston dynamics cop dogs out of my franchise that i like

playing this section will be changing. i don’t know what it will change to or what it will look like yet. honestly i game way less since i got this job. it is very weird going from my job where i think about bideo james all day to, immediately, on the same pc and desk, play video games. this might be a good sign that i need to get back into phone games, or maybe start playing genres that don’t pop up a lot at work like visual novels? i like games where you can tell a little story about what happened to someone else, and genshin and animal crossing: pocket camp simply do not produce interesting stories for the tuesdaypost. although there is a new genshin update coming that i will be able to play thursday evening, so who could say? maybe this one will be a big fat lore drop

anyway over the weekend at the end of a holiday break where i did zero gaming, i put like fifteen hours into fallout 4, with a dude bc i’ve never played through this game as a dude before. i get startled every time there’s one of those wretched little dialogue cutscenes bc i go Aah! That’s Not Me Or My Standard RPG Lady Character Aelia Laelia! no mods on this run (i hate this also) bc i want to pick up a couple achievements first

here’s my fucked-up sad dad dead wife guy with the lesbians at oberland station. bog-standard dude, his face is completely from one of the presets except i gave him more scars bc why not. not that you can see them but it’s the thought that counts. one of my favorite games within a game is to take absolutely dogshit screenshots of objectively well-rendered games bc this pc can only sort of handle lowest settings.

i am happy as a fucking clam making my little settlements all fancy. i like using warehouse walls for things bc tall and big windows, and i am making a giant fancy bar/restaurant/hotel thing in sanctuary hills bc why the fuck not. no pics of that bc i have nowhere near enough glass yet.

also busted nick valentine out :) what a good quest. what a good man.

making :)

[poptod]

The Old Gods

Description: Jack has to get close to a powerful suspect. Jack also ponders upon his humanity.

Notes: genuinely didnt meant for this to get so long, my apologies, i just like writing conversations bc i never get to have them.  also! I hate myself so much for writing supernatural fanfiction in the good year of our lord 2021. its not my fault, it was the only show i could watch with my cousin that we both liked. anyway! lmk if you like it i could do a part two WC: 11k

+

The nearest library could hardly be called a library. A more accurate description would be a collection of books––a small collection––that could be read freely but never taken from the library itself. There was little need within the Winchesters to visit the library, considering they had one in their home filled with mythical lore, but the records of Kansas and neighboring cities and states were detailed thoroughly in the nearest library.

Jack knew a great many things; inherent natures and laws of the universe, the experience of power and of fear, both before him and within him. Many things he'd seen deserved to be feared, exposing him to dangers often unheard of amongst regular children.

Three months into existence, however, Jack liked to think he knew more than he did when he was born. This was because he'd spoken to more people, experienced more things, and learned select things about his mother, his father, his family, and strangers. Still, there were things that puzzled him––the age of the world was clear in his mind (4.543 billion years, four months, 22 days, 6 hours, and 52 seconds) but how humanity progressed into what they now were astounded him.

"Humans started as... these creatures with unending curiosity," Castiel explained to him, his hands folded neat in his lap but hidden by his too-long trenchcoat sleeves. "Ceaseless innovation. They started without language but they always had kindness. I think.. that's why God favored them, at least at first."

"So... kindness is a form of.. intelligence?" Jack asked slowly, his brow furrowed tight as he stared past his father.

"I believe so," he said, shifting in his seat. "Kindness drove these animals to building homes, to conversing with one another, to creating a better world for descendants they would never know. It's quite beautiful, actually."

"Am I a part of that story?"

Only half-human, only half-alive, only half the story, belonging to nothing concrete. Jack wasn't really human, leaving him alone in his species.

"Yes," Castiel said without hesitation.

Civilization first started off in a number of areas. The first book Jack found dealt with the fertile crescent northeast of Africa, where Mesopotamia brought forth a number of societies, of cultures, meshed together over the course of thousands of years. Sumerians were one of the first to build their cities, creating writing, the wheel, and the plow in their haven apart from the unpredictable and often violent wild.

But no––the next book Jack found stated that Jericho was the oldest city, west to the fertile crescent near the shore of the Mediterranean and the Dead Sea. The citystate was independent from any other power, often becoming abandoned from raids only to return to high populations, as humans flocked back to the spring water that still poured from inside the earth to this day.

Over the rest of the day spent in the nearest library, Jack learned there was no single spot in which civilization was created and then spread from. The Nile in Africa brought forth Egypt, the Indus river in Pakistan birthed the Harappan civilization, and the two rivers Yellow and Yangtze in China created the first asian cities. From there villages, towns, and cities spread like mold across the earth's surface, eventually bringing humans to inhabit every continent and nearly every environment known on earth.

There were far too many things to know, and the strain of reading on his eyes eventually forced him to retire for the day. He hardly understood anything yet, but the librarian was understanding as to his prolonged stay, and wished him a good evening when he left. He beamed a bright smile despite the strange pain growing behind his eyes, and waved good-bye.

Dean gave him painkillers when he got back to the bunker after Jack thoroughly (and unnecessarily) described his headache.

"Humans are... strange," Jack said, his brow furrowed in deep thought. He rested his elbows on the table, leaning over an empty bowl of cereal.

"Not wrong, but, care to elaborate?" asked Sam, who was sitting across from him at the kitchen table, a newspaper and pen in his hand.

"Castiel said you created the first cities out of a desire to.. to protect each other, and to keep yourselves safe. And then the first thing you do when you meet other cities is to go to war with them."

Sam sucked in a sharp breath, leaning back as he set the newspaper aside. This would take a little more concentration than a passing ear.

"People are scared by things they don't know," Sam began only to be cut off.

"Why?"

"They don't know if it's dangerous. You didn't trust us, at first, either. We didn't know whether to trust you. Remember?"

"Oh," Jack said softly.

"Yeah. But you're right," he said with a long sigh. "It's strange. We're... strange."

"Are humans inherently good?"

"I don't think anyone is inherently good," Sam said, and Jack straightened his posture, suddenly confused by his claim. "Every person – every thing, every living thing has – has the capacity for good and evil. It's really just up to the individual to decide which side they want to give into."

"Am I a good person?"

"First off, you're not really a person," said another voice from the doorway.

Sam and Jack both turned at the same time, meeting the eye of Dean, who had yet to change out of his bathrobe despite it being 2PM.

"Second off, you haven't been alive long enough to be a good person," he continued as he entered, an empty coffee cup in hand.

"Dean –" Sam began, only to be cut off.

"What? It's the truth."

The coffee machine buzzed loudly once Dean pushed a few of the buttons, setting his cup beneath the nozzle. He muttered something to himself before turning back to the kitchen table.

"Anything strange in the paper?" He asked, leaning against the counter.

"Maybe," said Sam.

He grabbed the paper again, delving into the details of a nearby missing persons case that soon faded out of Jack's state of mind. His thoughts were still absorbed in his existence, in his beginnings, and how they compared to the beginnings of humans. At least with angels he knew everything; that was how angels were born. Knowing everything.

Jack remained seated at the table when Sam and Dean left, still stewing in his thoughts that he imagined would never go away. It was half an hour later when the two brothers returned, this time fully dressed, and packed up on their way to the car.

"We've gotta go find some local records," Dean said.

"So we're headed to the library," Sam finished, and the two gave each other odd glances at the coincidental synchronicity.

"I was there a couple days ago," Jack said, suddenly perking up. "Can I come with you?"

"Sure, just don't get in the way," Dean said with a dismissive hand, already leaving the doorway.

Sam pursed his lips, letting out a bitter, almost apologetic chuckle before he followed.

He liked the middle seat. It didn't have a seatbelt, but he wasn't sure what seatbelts were for anyways, and the middle seat allowed him easy access to see both of the Winchesters. Dean never spared a glance in his direction while he drove, but Sam offered awkward, curt smiles.

Technically Jack could just fly to the library in an instant, but the drive into town was pretty, lined with the colors of autumn. Recently winds had taken up a more brisk edge, marking the absence of birds that flew in packs overhead. He scooted to one of the window seats, craning his neck awkwardly to look up and out of the glass, grinning at the ravens flying through the orange and gold trees.

The librarian showed the three men where the records were kept, directing them towards missing persons cases when they requested it. While Sam and Dean thumbed through the records, Jack returned to ancient history books, studying art and images from Vedic India.

There, amongst the carvings printed on soft paper, he found something rather odd. He stood from his position on the floor, still staring intensely at the print as he walked over to the table Sam and Dean sat at.

"Hey Jack," Sam said as he sat down, gently placing the book on the table. He scanned Jack's hunched posture before he asked, "something up?"

"I found something... strange," he said, his brow still knotted neatly above curious eyes.

"Yeah well, join the club, kid," Dean said with a groan, wiping his face with his hand.

Jack opened his mouth to ask what they'd seen, but Sam answered before he could speak.

"There's been repeated attacks, kind of," he said, waving his hand vaguely. "Once every ten years a couple of kids go missing. Always two kids, always on the same day of the year."

"And another anomaly," Dean said, reaching over to a stack of papers and slapping them on the table in front of Jack.

Big, black words displayed the newspaper title, and below it, the date of publishing. January 4th, 1967. The main article dealt with a concert happening in a nearby city, and the image printed with it displayed a number of concert-goers, most of them in their teens or early adulthood. Hidden behind several other people, a familiar face appeared––the librarian. Unhindered by time.

"Is that..."

"Big boots over there?" Dean asked, pointing with his thumb in your general direction.

You were sorting through a stack of books, but as Jack looked down, he found you were wearing rather large boots. The ends of your pants drowned in them.

"Do you think they're related?" Jack asked as he turned back to the Winchesters.

"Possibly," Sam said with a nod. "Bit early to tell. But, uh..."

Sam trailed off as his eyes focused on something past Jack's shoulder. He, as well as Dean, turned to meet your eyes that quickly darted away once all three of them were looking at you.

"I think I have an idea," Sam said.

Dean and Jack curiously tilted their heads to the side at the same time, though when Dean noticed that, he fixed himself immediately.

"I think they have a thing for you," he said in a much quieter voice.

"Me?" Jack asked, pushing his finger into his chest.

"Yeah. You could get a little closer and see if something's up."

"Are you seriously setting up Jack with a fuckin' demon, for all we know?" Dean asked flatly, earning an odd look from Sam, who had never heard Dean protest putting Jack in danger.

"Dean, Jack's dad is a demon-angel thing. I don't think it's a big deal," he said.

That seemed to shut the older Winchester up.

"Hm," Jack hummed as he debated the idea. "I also found something strange."

"Oh, right," Sam said, clearing his head with a shake. "What was it?"

"It was also... the librarian," he said with a deep frown. "In one of the books."

He pushed forward the textbook, opening it to reveal the page in which he'd found your face. The stone expression was remarkably similar to your traits, from the curve of your nose to the positioning of your eyes, and the small, polite smile on your lips.

"I found it in the history section," Jack explained. "It says it's from Vedic India."

A quick Google-search later, Sam was reading out the age of Vedic India.

"According to this it says the Vedic age was approximately around 1500 to 800 B.C., so... about 2,500 years ago."

"Wow, this fucker's old," Dean snorted.

Sam shot him a look over the top of his computer screen.

Having found the information they were looking for, the Winchesters began to pack up their belongings and their scribbled notes, shoving them into their bags or into their many-pocketed coats. Jack, on the other hand, prepared himself for talking to you, hoping his ineptness towards social situations with humans wouldn't be too obvious. He swallowed through the knot in his throat, taking a shaking breath in an attempt to steady himself.

It didn't work.

"Dean, what am I supposed to say to them?" He whispered when they were already approaching the front desk, his palms growing sweaty.

"I don't know, their job or something? Something normal," he very unhelpfully advised.

"Thanks for letting us stay for the day," Sam said with a polite smile, handing back one of the printed out records you'd fetched for them from beneath your desk.

"Not a problem. You keep quiet. I like that in a reader," you said, smiling back as you glanced between the three of them.

None of them moved, and your expression turned to mild confusion. Dean had to jab Jack in the side to get him to speak. He opened his mouth to protest, but Dean motioned something to Sam, and the two of them quickly left for the car, leaving Jack alone while they 'situated' themselves.

"I, um..." Jack started before he was ready.

The silence felt wrong, but the silence after saying something was much, much worse. Whatever came into his mind first would have to be what he said.

"I like your job," he said, keenly scanning your expression for any hint of your thoughts.

You paused, clearly taken back for a moment, before you broke out into a chuckle, looking down to your hands as your face flushed.

"I like it quite a lot, too," you said with a grin, looking back up at him. "I've always been interested in becoming a librarian. Granted, I didn't quite imagine it in Kansas, but it is pretty here."

"Where did you imagine it?"

"Greece, actually," you chuckled, and he smiled as well, his heart thumping with a sudden haste. "I was heartbroken to hear the Library of Alexandria was burned down."

"The Library of Alexandria?" He repeated, tilting his head to the side again.

"Haven't heard of it?" You asked.

He shook his head gingerly. Was he supposed to?

No matter––you explained in full what the Library of Alexandria was, when it was created, when it was burnt, and the loss it caused amongst human society. He listened intently, frequently asking questions you were happy to answer. When Jack glanced out the library window, he found the impala gone, and realized Sam's plan had, in a way, worked.

"Are there.. any books about the library?" He asked once you completed your short story.

"Yes, but I don't want to hold you folks up –"

It was then you looked out the window as well, finding the two large men had abandoned the smaller.

"Oh where'd they go?" You said in a curious, high voice.

"Don't worry about that, I... have a bus," he said, earning a strange look. "I am... I ride buses."

A beat of silence passed.

"So the Library was in Greece?" He asked, and your earlier mood returned.

You brought him––with much excitement––to one of the rows in the library filled with simple textbooks for primary school kids. Other rows of your well-tended library were occupied by old books, their bindings worn and frayed at the edges from continuous use. Pages were turned yellow and were soft beneath his fingers, but despite their age they were rather hard for Jack to read and understand, meaning his discovery of children's comprehensible textbooks was a giddy one.

Jack wasn't entirely sure what he was supposed to be looking for when it came to you. What counted as suspicious? You continued to speak with him even after the sun set behind mountains, that could be a sign you were trying to gather information on him, as well. That could also mean you liked him. Was your friendliness suspect?

"- and the Phoenicians were really only called that by the Grecians. The name came from the purple dye that they're famous for, some root word for 'purple people' in Greek is Phoenicia," you explained, moving your hands expressively despite the fact that Jack's eyes were set dead on the textbook on the floor in front of you. Paragraphs of words surrounded modern depictions of ancient people and their art.

"So what was their actual name?" He asked as he looked up to you.

"Canaanites. From the land of Canaan."

"... you know a lot," he said, looking back to the page as you chuckled.

"It's just memory," you said with a shrug.

"Can I... can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"Do you know anything about mythical creatures?"

Surely this would reveal something, Jack thought––you might react poorly, in which case you could be the monster, or you might react in complete knowledge, which... could also mean you were the monster.

"A little," you said slowly. "Why do you ask?"

"I have an interest, in myths and monsters," he said, almost smiling again.

"Oh man, I have a show you're going to love."

Far in the back of the library, a hollow, steel door led to a small break room, the carpet inside being a dark, scratchy grey against his palms when he sat down. There were no chairs in the room, but an old TV sat on a cheap cart plugged into the nearest, bare wall. On the opposite side of the TV was a dull blue counter that stretched from the door to a window covered by plastic shingle curtains.

You snatched the remote off the counter, pressing a large, red button that had the television buzzing to life loudly. The screen sparked, static radiating around it as a thin line of white brought life to a Netflix loading screen.

After several minutes of waiting for Netflix to load and then typing a title into the search bar, a show called Myths and Monsters was before him. He let out a laugh as he realized what had sparked the connection––he'd literally spoken the title.

Would an ancient being or monster know how to work a TV?

Castiel could work a TV.

Kind of.

The first episode began to play and you took a seat beside Jack, crossing your legs neatly beneath you. A few minutes in, rain pattered lightly on the roof, followed by sudden winds that battered the now pouring rain against the window. Jack watched through the side of his eye as you smiled at the change in weather.

That was suspicious.

Late in the evening, when night darkened the land and heavy thunderclouds darkened the sky, he left the library. He stood in the threshold between the warm light on your desk in the otherwise dark room, and the falling rain outside. Yellow-orange streetlamps illuminated the sheets of rain and the nearby bus stop, but you still stopped him, holding the door open as you both stood motionless in front of one another.

"I have a car, I can drive you home," you offered, gesturing over your shoulder to a door in the back that led to a private parking lot behind the library. "I'm not sure if the bus runs this late."

Extended time with you would be good, and he imagined your face illuminated by dim dashboard car lights would be better than good––great. Beautiful. You had wonderfully warm features. But you couldn't know where he lived for a number of reasons; if you were the monster, that was giving away a hiding place, and if you weren't, you would wonder why he lived in such a strange place.

"Thank you, but it's alright," he said. "I like the rain."

A small smile stretched across your plush lips.

"So do I," you said, and the two of you bid good-bye, retreating into your respective dark.

He gave a thorough rundown of the events proceeding after Sam and Dean left, and the three of them––Sam, Dean, and Castiel––listened closely. Dean already filled Castiel in on the rest of the case, and the two brothers were eating at the long table in the bunker's library.

They stared at him in silence when he finished.

"Sounds like a regular kid," Sam finally said.

"Ah don't be so sure about that," Dean said, raising a single brow. "What did you say the monster probably was?"

"A – a fae, or something," he said.

"Fae's good at lying," Dean pointed out, earning a reluctant nod from Castiel.

"He's right. Fairies are remarkably good at acting," he said in his low, grating voice.

"So... what next?" Jack asked.

"We'll keep looking into the case more, and you can probably ask the librarian out on a date," Sam suggested, earning an agreeing remark from Dean. "You can keep them distracted while we search their house."

"Do we know where they live yet?" asked Dean.

"No, but it shouldn't be too hard to find out," Sam said.

Jack watched the brothers for a moment, his mind emptying of answers as to what a 'date' was.

"What's a date?"

"Oh Christ," Dean muttered, moving immediately to his feet and leaving the room.

Sam let out an exasperated sigh at his brother, turning to Jack to explain what a date was, what were appropriate date activities, and how he should act when asking you out and when being out with you.

"Okay," Jack said with a nod despite not really understanding. "What are dates for?"

"They're between people who are interested in.. getting to know each other," Castiel said as he took a seat beside Sam across from Jack.

"So... like when Dean and I went driving."

"No. Not like that," Sam quickly said. "Not like that at all. If – if a guy is interested in a girl, like interested in having her be his girlfriend, then he might ask her out on a date. It's a romantic thing."

"The librarian does seem to be interested in you, from what I’ve heard," Castiel said with a pointed look in Jack's direction.

"I think you've got a shot," Sam agreed, nodding.

Jack thought for a moment before he said, "okay."

A few days later––Dean insisted he only try a few days later, saying anything less was damaging his honor––Jack returned to the library, lighting up when he found you were still working at the small front desk, your nose buried in a large box full of papers. Large, round glasses were hanging off the tip of your nose, and you pushed them up to your eyes when they slipped further off.

The door clicked softly shut behind him when he entered, scanning the room as if there was another reason he was there. You watched him the whole time, continuing to when he approached you, something obviously on his mind.

"I was wondering..." he trailed off, losing himself in your bright, expectant eyes. When he realized he'd fallen silent, he added the first thing that came to mind––a lie. "... if you could show me where the... books are."

You chuckled before you said, "which ones?"

"Maps," he said, smiling as he came up with something actually substantial.

Of course, it wasn't asking you out, but at least it was talking to you. He would have to do that later, though he supposed he'd have to do it that day or he would be disappointing the Winchesters and Castiel when he came back to the bunker without even trying to complete their orders.

"We don't really have a maps section, but I might be able to help you if you tell me the time and place you're looking for," you suggested for him, and he nodded slowly.

"Yes. Please."

"So what are you looking for?"

"Oh. Right, uh.. Greece and Mediterranean," he said, repeating subjects from the last time you'd spoken.

"Mediterranean sea?"

He nodded.

"What year?" You asked.

"Uh..." he drew another blank, "two... hundred."

You seemed reluctant to ask the next question, but it was necessary; "before christ or after?"

"... before."

"Alright," you said with a soft snicker, moving around your crowded desk area and towards the bookcases.

Your stride slowed as you approached a certain shelf, shifting up onto the tips of your toes to reach the highest books. Jack thought of offering his help, but he wasn't much taller than you––if at all––and he didn't know which books to get down.

Four thick books ended up in your arms, and you heaved them over to the nearest table, letting them thump down heavily. You spread them out, flipping rapidly through the pages till you found the proper maps you seemed to have memorized within each of the books.

"This one's about 900 BC to 200 AD, so it's got a bit wider of a range. Includes the bigger cities. This one is.. 1500 BC to 300 BC, so a little bit within range, has a lot more cities," you said, moving from one textbook to the next while Jack stared at you, enamored by your plush lips.

He barely even noticed that you finished your explanations, nor your quick words mentioning you should probably return to your studies and leave him to it. But he reached out on instinct, grabbing your wrist and tugging gently, convincing you to turn back to him. Your eyes, still bright, retained that same patient expectancy as his previous evening with you.

"I... could you talk to me?" He asked, oblivious to the implications read clearly by you.

"About what?" You asked in return as you stepped subtly closer.

"About fairies."

You paused, your eyes widening slightly.

"The ones from Celtic folklore or... like modern media fairies?" You asked slowly, slinking down into a seat you situated to face him.

He did the same, his feet planted firmly on the floor as he watched you, a smile tugging at his lips.

"Just... the oldest versions of fairies."

You nodded, again slowly as you pursed your lips.

"Well the oldest mentions of them in literature actually comes from ancient Greece, from the Iliad, by Homer," you began, immediately using your hands expressively as you spoke. "Those weren't Celtic fairies, though. Greeks considered creatures like satyrs and such to be fairies, as well, so... generally fairies and the fae as we think of them now came from Ireland and Scotland."

"Where are they?" He asked with a head tilt.

You stuttered for a second, your eyes flying across the room until you stood, returning to the shelves. He watched with much humor as you read the book titles at a frightening pace, fingers flipping over the bindings till you pulled one down.

"Here, world map," you said, and though he didn't notice, you didn't comment on the oddity of not knowing where Scotland and Ireland were. Almost everyone knew where those two countries were; or, at least, the general area.

"In Ireland fairies are seen as simply... mythical people. Great warriors and poets, or witches, they're all considered part of the fae in Celtic culture. In Scotland, though, fairies are more dangerous, essentially being creatures that feed off humans in one way or another," you continued. "Like... banshees, those are Scottish, and jack o' lanterns."

"Jack o' lanterns?"

He'd heard of banshees before; they were mentioned a few times by the Winchester brothers.

"Not like the Halloween pumpkins," you said, but when you were met with further confusion, you slowly said, "...and you don't know what those are either, do you?"

He shook his head reluctantly.

You spent the next two, whole hours talking to him, going over any question he had no matter how much you thought he should've known the answer to begin with. Jack relaxed into that feeling, into that ease, while suspicion grew in your own mind. There was no one of his age and stature that didn't know the questions he posed. Still, you found yourself unable to pin any such wariness of manipulation onto such a polite boy.

Engrossed fully in whatever you had to say and rarely speaking himself, Jack absorbed a number of facts about the fae. About their trickery and mischief, about their magic, how different species had different thoughts on humanity. Considering the lengths you knew about other subjects, none of what you told him occurred to him as suspicious. You seemed, again, to be a dedicated––but human––scholar.

When at last he exhausted his questions, both on and off topic, he began a build-up of courage. Asking someone out for a case should've been much easier than this, or at least that's what he thought. Dean mentioned he'd done similar things for other such cases.

Jack's face scrunched up in deep thought despite the silence between you.

"Are you alright, Jack?" You asked.

"Oh. I'm... fine," he said, nodding his head in a way that didn't convince you all that well. "I – I wanted to ask you something."

You nodded, gently helping him along.

"I know we don't know each other that well, but... you.. interest me, and.." he trailed off once more. It was difficult to tell a lie that was technically the truth. "I was wondering if you wanted to go with me. On a date."

He expected a number of things from you––perhaps anger, perhaps embarrassment, perhaps shock, but you just chuckled, leaning back in your chair. His brow furrowed at your odd reaction. Were you laughing at him?

"Was that what you wanted to ask me when you first came in?" You said through your giggles, your soft skin glowing in the warm, early evening light.

"... yes," he said, huffing out his own chuckle as his eyes fell to the floor. "I'm sorry."

"There's no need to apologize," you said with a grin. “You’re the one who had to listen to me ramble.”

"So.. will you..?"

"Yeah," you chuckled, nodding. "I enjoy your company as well."

A smile made a permanent home on Jack's face as he returned to the bunker, his official mission having been successfully completed, and his hands still burning with the touch you left as he walked out the door. While most of the town smelled like baking pies and cinnamon cider, the bunker carried no such warmth, and smelled more like rotting leaves than anything else, though Sam lit a couple apple candles in his room. The scent filled part of a long hallway.

He found his fathers all sitting on a single couch, facing a television that had some sort of film playing on it through the static. Jack silently stepped round the nearest chair, taking a seat beside them, and watching on intently. A soft, high note hummed from the speakers.

Red, ratted curtains pulled way for sunlight streaming through dust-filled air. The wooden windowsill had a vase in which a single, molted flower sat, most of its petals having fallen off long ago. But that wasn't where the camera stopped; it halted above the image of two women tangled in sheets similarly worn down as the curtains were, requiring many patches over large holes. One had their face pressed to the other's neck, her nose nudging a sharp jawline owned by still sleeping eyes. Their limbs were knotted tight together, chest to chest, and a quiet, sleepy melody humming out of the smaller's pale lips.

Jack frowned. He'd never seen two people so physically close together. The nearest thing he'd seen was Dean and Castiel hugging, and even that was reserved in a way. This was pure trust––pure peace, and he found himself wondering if it was entirely fictional, or if such happiness could really exist in the world that at times felt poisoned.

Maybe it did exist if you found a way to smile that brightly.

He earned a whole other course of schooling once he announced their plan was successful. Dean clapped him proudly on the back, shooting a dirty grin that Sam countered with clean praise. Even Castiel seemed to be proud. Jack beamed at that, his heartbeat now pounding at the thought of three days from now; when he had planned the date.

In the meantime, the brothers stayed up for most of the night, though they looked much worse for wear that morning than Jack after he stayed up with them. Researching faes was actually a little easier than a lot of other monsters––there were many articles about them, and a deeply-engrained fear of changeling children had led to thorough documentation on the fae realm and its inhabitants. Jack was still a little slow at typing, so Sam captained the computer research, while Jack sped through the books in the bunker's library. Dean looked through articles and stories in newspapers searching for any hint of where they children might be kept if they weren't immediately killed.

The more he read about fairies, about their habits, their composure, and their lies, the less he could picture you as one. Originally a fairy brought to mind someone beautiful and fair, or someone like you, with dazzling eyes that could stop an archangel in their step. But the sharp teeth and wicked, wirey hair didn't sound at all like you. He'd felt your hands––once brushing over his––and there were no claws or stinging sensations that lingered in your touch. Still, the Winchesters probably knew better than him, and he pushed the feeling aside.

In the next evening, after Dean took a long day nap, Sam and Dean set to packing up their tools and tricks once more, tossing them into the back of the impala with the rest of the permanent fixtures. Jack watched as they did this, his hair still neat and clean despite not sleeping or washing up for two days.

"Can I come with?" He asked in the politest voice he could manage.

They were headed off to the library under the cover of night. After hearing about several back rooms Jack noticed during his time there, a reasonable question was posed––was there more information you could be hiding?

"Uh –" Sam began, only to be cut off by Dean saying –

"No. If we get found, that's fine, but if you're with us, we lose your relationship with her."

Before Jack could reply Dean climbed into the drivers seat, followed by Sam clambering in beside him. He had issues getting into the car at times. The engine stuttered to life, and Sam waved good-bye through the windshield as they pulled and drove the car away.

Jack frowned, his brow knitted together again.

"Bye," he said, but he was the only one to hear it.

Castiel would be back soon. He decided waiting in the library would guarantee he'd see Castiel as soon as possible, something he desired, as there were a number of new questions he wanted to pose to the elder angel. Thousands of years his senior, Castiel must've had answers––some sort of insight to some strange impulses, or simply comfort against 'wrong' thoughts.

Technically your library was private, meaning others weren't allowed to take your books away from the building, but you allowed him to take something home under the assurance of a guarantee. He would return it next time he saw you, a promise that clearly meant a lot to you going by the ease that overtook you when he said 'okay' with a signature, sweet smile. The only reason you leant the book to him was because it contained information you considered thought-provoking, thoughts about how humanity evolves, and how technological advances could change the actual anatomy of the human mind. Some of the claims seemed to him to be a bit of a reach, but others brought him interesting points.

The metal latch on the door let out a resounding click as the door swung open, Castiel standing behind with wild hair and a stunned look about him. He flung the door shut before running down the stairs towards Jack.

"Have they gotten back from the library yet?" He asked as he approached.

"No, they left..." he glanced at the clock, "a couple hours ago."

"Hmm," Castiel grumbled. "That's a long time for them."

"Should we go help them?" Jack suggested, setting your book aside as he stood straighter in his chair.

"No, we'll give them some more time. See what happens," he said before he set off, jogging into the hall.

Jack sighed as he slumped back into his seat, almost mourning the death of an easy excuse to go see your library. And Castiel left before he could ask him anything. Dean had a point, though––if they were caught and he was with them, that would ruin your relationship entirely, and that was something he, for some reason, despised.

It took another hour and a half before Sam and Dean were waltzing back in from the garage, tossing their duffel bags aside and shucking off warm, autumn jackets to side chairs. Something must've given away their presence, as Castiel was quick to reenter the main room.

"How did it go?" He asked.

"Like shit," Dean said, not even bothering to stop as he passed Castiel.

"We didn't find anything," Sam clarified. "Whole place was clean."

"Well.. maybe it's at their house," Castiel said almost gingerly, turning to keep his ever-vigilant eyes on the elder Winchester. "All the tools and... stuff."

"Yeah, that's what we're hoping," Dean said as he disappeared into the hallway.

"When did you say your date was again?" Sam asked, turning to Jack, who blanked for a moment before he answered.

"Two days from now," he said.

"Alright, well... we'll see what happens," he said with a nod, setting his hands on his hips. "Hopefully find where they might be hiding the kids."

Dean reentered with a bottle in hand, taking a quick swig as he settled down into one of the cushier chairs.

Jack's heart sped when his fingers began to fidget together, squirming restlessly in front of him. Questions still lingered on the edge of his mind, and answers from anyone would do him well, though he was well aware Dean would probably be reluctant to offer any advice to him.

"Could I ask you some questions?" He asked in the general direction of Cas, who happened to be standing right beside Dean. Castiel opened his mouth to answer.

"Sure," Dean said before he could speak. Castiel promptly shut his mouth after that.

"I know this shouldn't get in the way of the case, and it won't," Jack said as he took a seat opposite Dean. He and his brother shot each other glances. "I just have strange... thoughts, when I am around the librarian. Impulses, kind of."

Dean, who had raised the bottle to his lips, paused at those words and set it down instead, a decision that shocked both Sam and Castiel.

"What kind of impulses?" He asked in a flat voice.

"I want to... eat them," Jack said slowly, his brow furrowed deeply as he looked at the ground. When he looked back up, all three men were staring at him.

"You want to what??" Castiel asked.

"Like.. put my mouth on them...?" He tried.

"Wait – you mean kissing?" Sam asked as he shifted his weight between his feet.

"N... no, I don't think it's that," Jack said, though he was growing even less sure of himself with how they continued to gawk at him.

"You want to make out with the fairy?" Dean asked with a look that screamed 'unbelievable'.

"Maybe?" was the best answer Jack could offer.

Dean sighed, rubbing his face tiredly with his free hand.

"I don't want to.. encourage these thoughts," Castiel said, "but they might help on your date."

"So I should kiss them?"

"Maybe at the end of it," Sam suggested.

"And... how do I kiss?"

"Fuckin' –" Dean muttered under his breath as he stood, leaving the room with annoyance in his scowl.

The three of them––Jack, Sam, and Castiel––watched Dean round the corner and disappear.

"Ignore him," Sam said.

Sam, with some help from Castiel, patiently re-explained the happenings and ongoings of dates, from conversation topics to activities often done on dates. Sam assured Jack that he needn't do anything dramatic, over the top, or especially original, since Jack 'wasn't actually going on a date,' a phrase that made him a little sad for a reason he couldn't identify.

A bouquet of chocolate roses lay in his hands, the neon and florescent lights of the convenience store flickering and buzzing above him. Sam insisted a good way to start a date was with a gift––conventionally flowers, but the second Jack saw the chocolate roses he was entranced. He'd never seen candy in the shape of something real. Surely you would be delighted by the art, as well. Sam was less sure than he was, but allowed him to buy it with a chuckle, muttering something about how he wouldn't need to get chocolates anymore.

"Now remember," Sam began as he adjusted Jack's collar, "blood-soaked iron is what kills them, but since we don't have that right now, I think iron should hurt them."

"Forks, fire pokers, metal pipes... those usually have iron in them," said Dean.

"And if you get into a fight, just get out of there," Sam finished.

"No hanky-panky, either," Dean said.

"Dean," he hissed, slapping his brother's arm.

"What's hanky-panky?" Jack asked, furrowing his brow.

"Nevermind, just––be safe, have fun," Sam said with a smile, patting his shoulder.

The brothers dropped him off at your house before circling the block in search of a good vantage point. He took a shaky breath as he climbed your steps, soon rapping his knuckles on the plain, wooden door. It was a bit of a task trying to swallow, but he managed to push past his tight throat and put a smile on his face.

Footsteps sounded, growing closer until the door opened, revealing your wide eyes and the olive green silk you wore, draping elegantly from your chest down to your feet. A heavyweight scarf rested upon your shoulders. The warm light of the hallway behind you illuminated the loose strands of your always messy hair, but the sight still had his lips parting as he gasped softly. He felt suddenly out of place in his simple button-down, pants, and everyday jacket, shifting his weight almost uncomfortably as he found himself at a loss for words.

"You look... really nice," he said rather awkwardly, gesturing vaguely to your outfit with a dopey smile.

"Thanks," you said, chuckling. "You look nice too."

He stared for another moment before he suddenly remembered the chocolate and foil roses in his hands.

"I got these for you," he said as he handed them to you, scanning every inch of your reaction. "Sam told me to get flowers, but I think this is better, ‘cause then you get to eat them."

"You actually can eat roses! They just don't taste very good," you giggled, fixing your hair as you took them, a blushing smile still on your face. "I do like chocolate more, though."

"Oh, good," he said, his shoulders finally falling from their tense position. "I hope you don't mind walking. I don't know how to drive."

"I like walking, actually," you said as you walked past him, trotting down the front steps of your house. He followed along, his soft brown hair flopping like a puppy's ears over innocent eyes. "I like taking walks at night, but I don't take them a lot. It's kind of dangerous."

"Why?"

"A lot of people aren't very nice, or they're down on their luck and make poor decisions. I don't want to get hurt or mugged just because I like wandering around."

"Why would someone hurt you? You're such a nice person," he said with a frown.

"That doesn't mean anything," you laughed softly.

Food wasn't a particular attraction of Kansas, but few things were. The amount of restaurants in town was high, most of them serving a very similar menu containing lots of meat, barbecue, pie, and sometimes funnel cake. None were all that classy, so Jack took you to a place that Sam recommended––a nearly 24 hours open cafe whose kitchen was always open, and who hosted quiet, live jazz on select evenings.

You and Jack spoke of a number of things while you walked, none more interesting than any of your previous conversation topics, as you seemed to want to stay on the topic of him as a person rather than the history you usually rambled about. You asked who Sam was, which he explained as one of his fathers, at which point you asked who the second was. He hesitated for a moment, unsure if he should tell the truth or formulate a more normal-person lie.

"I... my mother died in childbirth," he said, his voice uncharacteristically low and quiet, murmuring with the sureness of his trust in you. "My father, Castiel, takes care of me, with his brothers, Sam and Dean."

"Oh. I'm sorry," you murmured, and he opened his mouth to give the usual speech––it's alright, I've gotten used to it––but you continued with, "it's an honorable way to die."

He paused to absorb your words. No one had ever said that before.

"Yeah," he finally said. "I guess you're right."

"So what's your father like?"

He sucked in a breath, forced to once again decide between a truth, a half-truth, and a lie. Like with most things, he took the middle road.

"My genetic father isn't... I don't talk to him," he said.

"Oh."

"But Castiel is good. He always tries to do what's right. I'm still trying to learn about this whole.. being-alive thing, from him."

"I think we all are," you chuckled.

You ended up ordering for him when you finally got to the cafe, standing in line for only a few minutes before you were looking for a table. He had trouble understanding the menu, often asking you what things were, and eventually you had to gently push him on to let the next people in line have a turn. If this bothered you, it didn't show.

Piano and saxophone played in time with one another, their rhythms and melodies dancing around the beat of the drummer. Scant, warm light shone from above, illuminating the haze of clouds drifting from smokers, most of whom stood in the corner, nursing the embers as they watched the musicians play. Jack tapped his foot to the beat against the dark oak floor.

You joined him a moment later, two coffees in hand and your coat draped over your arm.

"Have you ever been here before?" You asked as you took a seat, casting your jacket over the back of the chair after you set the coffee down.

"No, I don't really get out much," he admitted.

"How come?"

"I don't.. really have friends," he admitted, again, though this time much more reluctantly. He'd heard that generally people respected you more if you had friends.

"That's alright," you said, leaning back with a soft smile made only more alluring by the dim, red and orange light. "I've found it's more fun to stay in than to go out sometimes. Everything becomes the same after a while. You can drink at home, you can dance at home, sing, host parties..." you sipped from your steaming cup, ".. so, obviously, I don't go out much either."

"You have friends, though?"

"Not really," you chuckled, glancing down. "Books last longer than conversation, generally."

"Then... why talk to me?" He asked, attempting to meet your eye with that knot still tucked into his brow.

"Because you came to me."

Soon your conversation was halted by a server bringing out your food. You made sure to thank him as he left, before hungry eyes settled eagerly upon your funnel cake. Unwrapping the napkin, you set the orange cloth on your lap, revealing your silverware. Jack followed your lead, copying your motions near exactly down to you rubbing your hands together excitedly.

He'd never tried funnel cake before, leaving him to melt as he took his first bite.

"Good, isn't it?" You chuckled through a full mouth.

He nodded ardently.

The crowd began to thin halfway through your meal, turning thick conversation to quiet murmurs confined to singular tables in corners and shadowed areas. Jack still had yet to find anything incriminating about you, an answer that led only to other questions, ones that flew wildly around his head.

You didn't seem human––at least, not entirely. There were things you said that hinted to something else, a knowledge within that was a little too wide for the lengths of a human mind. That and your soul; what he could see of your soul was strangely colored, florescent holographic, and warped far more than normal people's usually were––almost as warped as Sam and Dean's souls now were. Bright, yes, but warped. Something had happened to you.

But there was nothing bad within you. Darkness tinted the edges, the edges so often scraped by the world around you––the world around both of you––but the center within, where your heart emanated, was clear. It was actually rather beautiful; you were rather beautiful.

He wished he could tell you without seeming strange.

"What do you think about most, Jack?" You asked, pulling him away from his thoughts.

He instantly stuttered, as what he'd been thinking about was you, but he couldn't say that.

"Just.. uh, my, uh.. my place in the world," he said, tapping the end of his fork on the old wood table.

"Like your job, or your purpose as a human?" You asked as you sipped from your third refill of coffee.

"My purpose, sort of," he said, his eyes flickering to the ground. "I have a lot of responsibility. My father thinks I'm very powerful."

Was that giving too much away?

"What does he want you to do?"

"He wants me... to stay alive," he said, earning a soft chuckle from you that had a smile spreading across his own face. "I think he wants me to be safe and happy."

"That's a wonderful goal," you said with a grin. "And there are so many ways to achieve that."

So far he'd only found ways to achieve the opposite––how to antagonize the world by existing, how his grandfather wanted him dead, how his genetic father would use him for any power grab he posed. If you wanted to feel at risk of dying at any moment, he knew a thousand ways to do it.

"I haven't really found any," he said quietly.

You paused before you asked, "do you want my advice?"

He nodded, hesitantly at first, but sure of himself when you smiled softly.

"Always be kind to others. Mind your own business unless someone is getting hurt, and if you have to get your hands dirty, do it for only a second. Then get the hell out of there and wash yourself clean for the next hundred couple years," you said.

There it was again. A hint of something more. In passing conversations Jack heard from strangers, no one spoke like they lived history. Not like you did. And he'd wager no historian spoke with the sense of memory that you did.

"Anything specific make you realize that?" He asked, unable to stop himself from chuckling.

You looked his age––sometime in your 20's––but you spoke like an 80 year old. Something about that facade appeared humorous to him. He also looked your age––sometime in his 20′s––but he spoke like a 10 year old far more than he liked to admit.

"Family drama," you said dismissively. "I've been steering clear for a while now."

Did fairies have families?

Well, if you were a fairy, you could just be lying then.

Jack frowned. If Dean or Castiel were here, they would know what to say and think.

"I understand," was what he said instead.

The impala was still parked near the house by the time Jack was walking you home, a sight that nearly sent him panicking. Sam and Dean wouldn't want him to do that. So he clenched his fists in his pockets, his shoulders tightening ever so slightly as he tried to slow his pace in a way you wouldn't notice.

But you did. Of course you did.

"You alright, Jack?" You asked, matching his pace.

"Yeah, I just..." what was something normal to say? Something he could back up – "I meant to ask you something, but I didn't ever... find the time to."

"What was it you wanted to ask?"

He shivered as a brisk wind picked up, the dry, orange leaves on the edges of the sidewalk passing quick by his feet in the breeze.

"Do you think everyone feels this lost in life?" He asked, barely audible above the wind.

"There's a little bit of you in everybody, just like how there's a little bit of everybody in you. You're capable of the same things that a murderer is just as you are a... a hero, or a martyr," you said, taking time to think before you spoke. "Humans are remarkably similar, you come to see after a while. And even Gods face these questions, these wonderings of their origins and their purpose, if their creations are everything they're meant for or – or if they're doing something wrong, and they should be doing something else instead."

He continued to stare at the ground as you walked slowly side by side, brought out of his intense expression by something soft flopping over the back of his neck. His heart thrummed as you stopped him there, turning him to face you, and looking him in the eye as you fixed your scarf on his shoulders. The effect was instantaneous––his shoulders relaxed and the stress fell from his brow, absorbed in the warmth of your gesture.

"Whatever you're going through," you gave him a pointed look, telling him silently to not deny this truth, "is worse and better than what other people go through. It may not be the best but it's probably not the worst."

Your advice, though insightful, didn't mean much considering his problems had to do with the continued life or prompt execution of the entire universe by a bitter, old man. But the main point remained; there were more painful deaths than his, just as there were better ways to die than he would or will. He may not be facing the best circumstances, but they could be much worse, and the fact that normal humans often asked the same questions he did was more of a comfort than he thought it would be. Perhaps he really was connected to his mother in that way.

The steps creaked beneath your shared weight as you both approached the front door of your house. You opened the door, stepping partway through the threshold before you turned to him, hesitation lacing your open mouth.

Behind you, Jack managed to spot two shadowed figures running across the hallway towards what he presumed to be a back door. His eyes widened imperceptibly and he pursed his lips, quick averting his gaze back to you.

"You're special, Jack," you said quietly, scanning him with a careful look. "Don't let bad circumstances own you. You only get so much time in this world."

"You're very kind," was all he could managed to respond with. "Thanks for... going out with me tonight."

"Of course. I like talking to you."

"I'm glad you do," he said with a sheepish chuckle, one you mimicked as you fixed your hair.

"I'll see you again soon?"

"Yes, I – oh," he interrupted himself, remembering your scarf still enveloping him, "this belongs to you."

"Don't worry about it," you said, taking his arms and settling them back down to his sides. "It's kind of cold out tonight, and I'm assuming you're walking home... aren't you?"

"... yeah," he lied, blood rushing to his face at the thought of taking a piece of you home.

"Then I'll get it back another time," you said, smiling.

You hesitated to close the door again, and instead you gingerly moved forward, raising yourself to press a single, soft kiss to his cheek, the edge of it just barely touching his lips. His mouth parted in surprise, but before he could say anything you shut the door.

He walked back to the impala completely starstruck.

"I don't think they're dangerous," Jack said, restating what he'd said earlier to Sam and Dean on the drive home––he just couldn't see you as suspicious. Strange, yes, but not murderous.

"If what you say is true, though, then this is quite likely a fae," said Castiel as his eyes flickered from Jack to Sam and Dean.

"See? Facts are facts, kid," Dean said, pointing to Castiel with a smile.

"Hexbags, crystals, actual photos with them from, like, 1890? And the amount of plants," Sam continued with a slight shudder.

"How many plants were there?" Castiel asked, frowning sternly.

"Too damn many," Dean answered for him. "The point is, we gotta interrogate that thing."

"They didn't do anything wrong!" Jack said, his voice tripling without his knowledge.

Everyone in the room reacted accordingly––stiff postures and sharp breaths as the golden light faded in his eyes.

"Jack..." Castiel began hesitantly, his voice quiet and low.

He barely uttered out an 'I'm sorry,' before he turned and left, disappearing down the hallway and into his room.

It took him nearly a whole day to leave his room, having spent most of the time alone to brood and ponder over his actions, and whether or not he was being manipulated by a fairy creature. He couldn't deny the fact that there was a chance he was wrong and he was under your control, thus landing him with the only sane decision, somehow; trust Sam and Dean.

Silence surrounded him as he padded through the bunker, headed towards the kitchens after not eating for nearly 24 hours. Technically he could live without food for much, much longer than that, even without sleep, but it wasn't a particularly pleasant experience.

When he reached the kitchen he also found it empty. In fact, the whole bunker sounded empty, leaving all the cereal for him. He smiled.

Sam and Dean returned before Castiel did, though after their return they hid away doing 'private business' in the basement area. Jack tried to ask what it was they were doing, but Dean curtly brushed him off, sending him back upstairs to go clean up the mess they left in the kitchen after a quick, midnight dinner.

As he was scrubbing the dishes, a door lock clattered in the distance, marking Castiel's return. Now that the fort was manned again, he could sneak off to see you in the morning. Castiel informed him that showing up at people's houses at midnight could be seen in a very bad way. He knew you wouldn't judge him, but he still didn't want to embarrass himself, and it was only a few more hours to wait till dawn.

He could fly. He could also ask Sam or Dean to drive him (while he could also ask to drive Baby, he knew the answer would be an ardent no), but the grey clouds promised rain, and the smell of rain hitting the leaf-covered earth pleasured his mind. With your scarf wrapped around him, he could avoid the cold as well.

His feet were a little tired by the time your library came into view, though still warm in the crisp air from fuzzy, woolen socks. The frayed edges of your scarf fluttered about chaotically in the wind as he noticed something rather odd––the library wasn't open. None of the lights were turned on, the chairs were still atop the tables, and you were nowhere to be seen. He had left the bunker a little early, but you always opened by 5AM at the latest, and it was 8 now.

For several minutes he hadn't a clue as to what to do, meaning he stood motionless in silence in front of the glass door, his head tilting slowly to the side in confusion. Maybe you woke up late––that would explain it. You were perfectly safe in your bed, dozing after a good night's sleep, completely unharmed.

But things rarely worked out so easily for Jack. Your home was empty, no sign of your disappearance left as your shoes, jacket, keys, and wallet were still left by the front door. In a sudden panic at the thought of your absence, the world around him flickered for a split second before he appeared in the bunker's war room. Knowing the usual fate of the people he cared about, you were probably being hurt, perhaps kidnapped by the actual fae who'd been killing the children, or lost of your own volition in a forest you wandered too far into.

"Castiel." Jack grabbed the angel's coat sleeve, stopping him on the way to the stairs. "I went looking for the librarian and they're missing."

"Missing?" Castiel repeated with a grimace. "Did you check the library and the house?"

"Yes, I couldn't find them."

"They might be headed for the children," he said, sending a pang through Jack's heart that he ignored.

"Is... is there a way to track a fae?"

"There's no spell I know of," Castiel said, his gaze falling to the floor as he scanned his mind. "But if it's a magical creature, it may carry a sort of... a sort of scent."

"A scent?" Jack furrowed his brow, wondering if something could carry your scent.

Something you'd been around a while. Something like your books, or your bed, or –

Jack jumped after he realized he was still wearing your scarf which, despite its' time with Jack in his room, still smelled of you. He shoved it into Castiel's arms, but he only gave him a confused look.

"It's their scarf," he explained.

Castiel spared him from the embarrassment of explaining how he'd gotten it.

He held the crumpled scarf in his hand up to his nose, intaking a deep breath with closed eyes. Jack hadn't ever heard of this kind of tracking, which was odd since he inherently knew most things about angels, but he would never distrust his father. What he did distrust was the churning feeling in his chest, as though a curved knife had impaled itself in him and twisted slowly through his skin.

Doubts pervaded both angels almost immediately as Castiel followed the trail. It led near to the stairs, but took a harsh turn and went into the hallway, leading them further into the bunker.

"Are you sure this is theirs?" Castiel asked as they hurried down the hall.

"Positive," he said, earning a sigh and a nod from Castiel.

They continued, this time less sure of themselves, as the scarf continued to lead them through the bunker, trotting down stairs till they landed in the base floor. Here the walls, ceiling, and floor were made of thick cement, allowing their footsteps to echo around the empty halls.

Jack picked up the pace and Castiel followed, running after the trail that ended right in front of the dungeon door. The torture room door, where monsters were locked up, and sometimes friends as well. A sort of fury was boiling in his blood despite his earlier acceptance of the Winchester's plan. Keeping you here in secret was never something he agreed to.

Without even fully realizing it, Jack was wrenching open the handle, the door whizzing open and slamming against the wall with a resounding crack. There, in the center of a pentagram, you were bound to a chair with thick, iron chains, your molted form flanked by Sam and Dean. The latter carried a knife in his hand, one covered in dripping blood. Sam whirled around at the sound of the door opening, meaning he was the first to see Jack's glowing eyes, and the suddenly panicked expression on Castiel's face.

"What are you doing to them?" Castiel growled with wide eyes, taking long, quick steps over in front of you. Without hesitation he undid the restraints, letting you fall down to the floor.

"Cas, they're a fae," Dean said, his tone stern and curt.

"No, they're not," Castiel replied, his own voice equally as sure. "I can't.. blame you, for not knowing this. You're only human. But it's obvious to me."

Sam opened his crossed arms, waiting for the angel to explain himself. Meanwhile, Jack regained his composure after being shocked by Castiel's actions, and made his way over to you, kneeling at your side. You'd been cut in a few different places––nothing too grievous, at least not by Winchester standards––and drops of your blood painted streaks down your sweaty skin.

"They're an Old God," Castiel finally said, but the words were followed by silence.

"We're just supposed to know what that is?" Dean asked gruffly.

"I thought your brother might," he said in a quiet voice.

Dean unfolded his arms, shifting his weight as he cast a glance to his brother.

"Old Gods are... ancient deities created by wandering bands of hunter-gatherers in your past. They got their power from their worshippers, not from Chuck, which... made them very different, to say the least," Castiel continued, still keeping his voice soft as he raised his hand above several of your wounds, stitching the skin back together with his grace.

"I've heard of hunter and gatherers," Jack said as he recalled some of the books in your library. "They wandered in bands of around 50 to 100 people."

He earned several unimpressed stares.

"Well – if they got their power from worshippers, how's this one still alive?" Sam asked after a moment of silence.

"I don't know," Castiel admitted. "I've never met this one before."

"Okay, just because they're not a fae doesn't mean they aren't the one that killed those kids," Dean said, interrupting their short conversation.

The iron knife still twirled in his hands; the only weapon against fairies. Jack kept a close eye on it as they spoke.

"An Old God would never hurt a human," Castiel said with such an intensity that no one had any choice but to believe him. “And besides,” he turned back to you, “they would’ve lost their powers long ago when humans stopped believing in them.”

Your eyes listed open while you lay in Jack's hold, the swirling image of your friend coming lazily into view.

"... Jack?" You mumbled, struggling to keep your eyelids up.

His gaze shot down to you, eyes widening at the sight of your movement.

"Hey," he said softly, hushing you when you tried to speak. "Are you okay?"

You mustered your strength to nod.

"I'm assuming you're an agricultural God," Castiel said after a moment of watching the two of you interact. "You look to be around 12,000 years old." He looked up to Dean and Sam. "That's how old agriculture is."

"Yeah, I know," Sam scoffed, but Dean remained silent.

"Do I really look that old?" You asked, laughing through your slurred words.

"Your soul does," Castiel answered.

You hummed weakly in response, drifting back into unconsciousness, your body going limp in Jack's arms.

Jack healed what remaining injuries you had, using it partway as an excuse to touch you. His palms set flat on the cuts, and with you far off in your dreams, you didn't feel the burn or the relief of his healing. He thought first to bring to his room to lay you on his bed, but Sam gently suggested that you should be put in one of their many spare bedrooms.

Castiel and the Winchesters attempted to take his mind off of you, but it wasn't long before he was back at your side, waiting for you to wake up again. He scanned your body constantly with his mind, searching for any hidden injuries he might've missed the first time around. The case remained unsolved, the children still missing and the culprit unknown. Your disqualifying left the Winchesters with no more suspects, but Jack couldn’t bring himself to worry about a creature that wouldn’t strike again for another ten years when you wouldn’t wake up to his voice calling your name.

It took hours until you stirred again, eyes fluttering into a half-open state as they fell to Jack. He had his head hung low, his elbows leant on his knees, and his hair drooping in front of his face.

"I was created in Turkey," you rasped out through a dry throat.

At the slightest sound his head shot up, eyes widening with a spark upon seeing your soft smile.

"It's a country, by the way," you mumbled, correctly assuming Jack didn't know the country, and only knew the bird. "At a place they call Gobekli Tepe, now. The people of the land would... would gather there, and share their cultured seeds, and the magic needed to make them grow."

"Magic?"

"Simple water and sunlight," you said with a weak chuckle. "It was magic to them. Everything was."

You fell silent before you said, "I miss them."

"Were they different? From people now?" Jack asked.

"Very," you nodded assuredly. "But there are some people, nowadays, that remind me of them."

He chuckled quietly. Warmth spread from your touch when you reached forward, just barely gracing his hand with yours. He took the initiative, entangling your fingers together, and watching intently as your thumb ran over the back of his hand.

"You are a new God, aren't you?" You asked, narrowing your eyes curiously, with no sense of hostility.

"I'm... I'm a nephilim. Lucifer's son, actually, but I promise I'm not like him," he said, gripping you tighter.

"A nephilim?" You asked with a frown.

"The son of an angel," he clarified.

It was the first time he was able to tell you something you didn't know instead of the other way around.

"I've never heard of angels."

His brows raised in surprise.

"Really?" He asked.

"I haven't really kept up with the world as of recent. When did angels first appear?"

"I... don't know," he said after wracking his brain and finding no answer. "Castiel might know."

"Castiel.. Castiel, that was your father, right?"

"Yeah. The good one," he said, earning a chuckle from you that brought a blush to his face.

"He is another God?"

"Another angel, yes," he nodded. "(Y/N), I... I have so many questions for you."

"About what?" You asked skeptically, giving him a playful glare.

"About humans, mostly," he said. "I mean, I've already been asking you questions, but now I know you have a lot more answers than I thought."

"Yes, well, I do keep my memory stored in a mushroom," you muttered beneath your breath.

Jack frowned. Was that normal?

"Can you tell me about them?" He asked, just barely masking his eagerness.

"My people?"

He nodded, and you smiled softly, your eyes glazing over as you recalled thousands of years past.

[morihaus]

all prime numbers in 'background' for rod and mort pls

long answers time

2. Where did they grow up? A city? A village? Isolated, in the wilderness? What was it like to leave?

Rodanus is from Colovia and could perhaps be described as kind of growing up in the sticks? if i remember correctly he wasn't from any of the big cities, he comes from a legion background, maybe did some rangering on the imperial reserve, that sorta thing. might've almost been a militaryish town with a lot of colo-nordic types who hang their hats on their families' loyal service and the esteemed military deeds of their ancestors. but the point is it was pretty isolated in a mountainous forested region and leaving for morrowind... rod HATES morrowind so much. he hates how hot and swampy it is or otherwise cold and ashy (he might've been stationed in vvardenfell specifically? or the telvanni peninsula) he really misses the familiar flora and fauna and when he got to become a blade this was NOT the glamorous lifestyle of serving the emperor that he expected. he thought he was gonna get to be an honor guard or something but instead he's doing stupid little fetch quests and bodyguard missions in this outlying territory.

mortimer however is a "native" of morrowind, his father moved his business there as part of his work for the east empire company. i forget where i said he'd grow up, maybe ebonheart?? as soon as he was old enough he insisted on accompanying his father on his journeys across morrowind, to skyrim, the padomaic islands, etc. he only became a blade bc his father chose his brother to take charge of the family's mercantile exploits instead of him, at this point i feel he would've left home but he'd still be in morrowind. i imagine he has a misplaced feeling of belonging to morrowind that is gross and stupid.

mort never really leaves his home when he's assigned there (his knowledge of morrowind and its culture makes him an important operative) but they DO both leave for akavir. neither thought it'd be all that long a journey until they got stranded by the ENSO event and accused of being foreign spies (which they were.) both of them were only thinking of capturing the nerevarine and using their new clout to avoid the fallout of ol urie septim kicking the bucket and leaving the empire on wobbly knees, something they felt they were above as members of the secret club.

3. What was their childhood like? Who raised them? Do they have siblings?

rodanus almost definitely has siblings, at least two, and mortimer absolutely has an older brother under whom's shadow he burns with jealousy. mortimer had a rather adventurous childhood where he was educated as something of an upper middle/merchant class wannabe nobleman and got to immerse himself in the intellectual culture of morrowind. it was work, he had to help his father do business and act as sort of an assistant on long journeys away from home, but he thinks it was foundational for becoming the intelligent cultured man he is today. rod had probably a more rough upbringing, lot of expectations on him to serve the empire in some way so the family can keep bragging to their neighbors- he was probably a pretty precocious child who wanted to hit the other kids with sticks and play soldiers tbh. ive not thought a lot about his parents. might not have a dad and instead his mother and grandpa care for him, along with any other relatives who haven't given their lives to the empire (iirc the Troubles were going on during his childhood so a military family was probably running pretty thin)

5. Do they worship any gods? Who? How do they feel about the gods in general?

i feel like they'd both worship the nine, basically. well rodanus would be hardcore faithful with maybe some more nordic warlike elements in there- or just yknow, talos worship (which does have its dangerous connotations but his family is, allegedly, normal about it) very faithful to akatosh as well, basically the Big Two. he feels as he was taught that the gods watch over the empire and protect it from evildoers and that serving the empire is serving the gods. mortimer... he'd have some bretic flair in his upbringing i think, some more aldmeri stuff in his spiritual diet. zenithar is of course a popular one for his association with commerce, whether or not you consider him the capitalism god or the workers rights god, mort's dad definitely considered him the former, so that's that. phynaster has some association with traveling i feel like???? maybe some hodgepodge bretic interpretation of kyne that grants her esteem for being the sailor's god, what iwth how important maritime trade is in high rock. he has never once considered morrowind's own faith as anything more than a passing anthropological curiosity (asshole) his family would mostly associate with the most diehard colonial types anyway. for himself, he's much more material in his views than rod, giving more importance to the actions of men and mortals than the wills or desires of the gods. he pays lip service, but the things he does are for his own benefit.

7. What's their relationship with their family like? Do they have one?

went over this a BIT in the other question but. mort admires + cares about his dear old dad and WAS looking forward to taking up the family business, but his older brother got that hire instead of him (you can't just nepotism hire BOTH your sons that'd be outrageous.) although technically, i think mort more wanted to be this worldly, educated kind of guy who'd hang out in salons for a living talking about bullshit with other wealthy noblemen, so his heart wasn't entirely in the work he kind of just wanted to reap the benefits of being a wealthy merchant, but now his no-good brother gets it... perhaps this brother is just more committed to commerce. perhaps mort's desire to look intelligent leads him to do stupid shit and get into trouble, something his dad and brother see as kind of too risky to trust with ferrying important goods around. THIS GUY COULD GET SCAMMED alert. that kind of thing. rod cares about his family a lot and wants to make em proud, which his mother really super is and his grandfather is aloof. he was really really really hoping to get into the cyrodiil chapter of the blades so he could really show how great he is to his grandpa but instead he got carted off to an outlying territory . he definitely writes them though. hthe one admirable trait i've had in my head about him is the care he has for his family and his hometown and how he thinks by rising in the ranks of the blades he could take action to protect them from whatever's coming next.... i should think on his siblings more.

[okaybutlikeimagine]

El has a nightmare and Hop has a night shift, so she can't talk to him about it and goes to Billy instead. Imagine Jim coming home in the morning and finding El sleeping in her brother's bed taking almost all the space and the covers, while Billy is about to fall off with one leg and one arm touching the floor. And Hop can feel his heart melt because this is the cutest thing he's ever seen.

HI I’M the one melting bc this is so adorable!! ♥ i’ve been bundled into a ball of fluff over the idea of this.

One of my absolute FAVORITE things that really cemented me into the “I live and breathe for Billy’s found family and you can pry it from my cold dead hands” club was fics where Billy looks out for El. like, something about this big rough and tough and emotionally vulnerable boy noticing and helping out this small but also feisty and emotionally vulnerable girl just drives me CRAZy ♥

their dynamic is TOO GOOD. they’re so similar and both deal with the same kinds of traumas and call me crazy, but I don’t think Billy likes the idea of other people going through what he went through. I think he likes to THINK he does, I think he likes to both silently and very loudly wish ill of people- usually bullies or assholes who think they’re clever. Think they’re better than him bc they have whatever constitutes as a “happy home life”. He hates those people. Those are the people he (almost) wishes could feel the pain he’s felt his whole life… the pain of trying to be as small as possible, to take up as little space as possible, and still get slapped for it.

The thing is… he never actually means it. He likes to think that if he was given the choice, he could throw his life and all of the pain that’s come with it onto some poor, unsuspecting soul… but somehow he knows he would never. Could never. It’s an upsetting thought for him.

And he most definitely wouldn’t want anything plaguing a little kid… especially this little girl that Billy shares a home with now.

Bc Billy’s no stranger to nightmares, and within about 3 days of moving into the Hopper household, he knows El isn’t either. Bc he wakes up to shrieks. It startles him awake, gets his heart racing like crazy, and sets his entire body on fire because…

Because he hears heavy footsteps, rushing somewhere on the wooden floors. 

He’s awake but his mind is still processing it so his vision is blurry and all he sees is a large figure barreling towards the only room- El’s room, and the door slams open and the shrieks get louder and Billy’s livid.

And he jumps into action, gracelessly because he’s still drunk with sleep and exhaustion (because those first few weeks in the cabin are rough on him.) and he rushes to El’s room, running himself into the doorway, leaning heavily on it, eyes scanning wildly to stop this because holy shit he didn’t think this man was like this but then again how could he be so stupid as to think this man wasn’t a poison to society like every man Billy’s ever met and-

And….

And El is crying and Billy’s vision is getting less blurry and she’s… she’s hugging Hop. Hop is on the bed, arms wrapped tight around the little bundle of curls and tears that are shivering against his chest, and Hop shoots a look up to Billy in the doorway. He must look like a fire being doused.

You okay? Hop mouths, patting El’s head.

Billy’s blinking hard, trying to make sure he knows exactly what he’s looking at- make sure he knows that there’s no danger here.

El starts mumbling something… something about monsters and labs and Papa and…

Billy leaves. Stumbles his way back to the couch and flops back down and falls into a restless sleep of his own monster.

And it takes a bit for him to realize he may never get used to it. Every time he sees something other than reality. Every time his mind is somewhere that isn’t the present. Every time Billy rushes, heart beating violently, over to the room, leaning heavily on the door, ready to fight, mind just racing with thoughts of: oh no, it finally happened. He finally did it. He’s finally bored of me. He finally moved on to her...

Every time Billy snaps back to the present, taking note of the girl having brown hair rather than red…

But Billy just never gets used to it. He never gets comfortable. It’s happened a countless number of times and every time he’s nervous and today, when El screams, Billy is up in a second, stumbling on wobbly legs that’re heavy with sleep over to her room to see her standing and crying and wobbling around herself. She’s wandering around her room, bumping into her bedframe and her dresser and her wall because she has her hands covering her eyes in fear.

Billy grabs hold of her, embracing her in his arms, keeping her still. He feels her shake as his sleep hazy mind slowly clears.

“Monsters.” is all she can say but it’s all Billy needs to hear.

So he guides her out of her bedroom and into the living room to sit on his bed in the corner. He lets her talk for a minute about what she saw and how it makes her feel and Billy just lets her before he tells her it’s “not real” and that she doesn’t have to be scared. He doesn’t quite know what else to say. Even though he has nightmares too, he’s not sure what he’d want to hear. It works, nonetheless. She breathes a little more even and nods and curls herself up in the corner of his bed while he goes to grab her a glass of milk and an extra blanket.

When Billy notices she’s not shaking anymore, he figures this is the perfect time to guide her back to her bed and try to get back to sleep himself, but the second he opens his mouth she beats him to it.

“Can you sing?”

His brows furrow deeply. “Huh?”

“Sing? Can you sing a song?”

“Uhhh… I don’t really sing, kiddo.”

“Yes you do. Sometimes you sing.”

“Yeah but-”

“Please?”

And it’s the puppy dog eyes and the pouting lip and the fact that her face is still puffy from crying that really seals the deal.

So he gives her the extra blanket and lets her get cozy and tries for the life of him to think of something to sing- some slow song he’s heard her listen to or that he’s heard and knows the lyrics to or that, maybe possibly, his mom used to sing for him when he was a kid… but even those are far and distant and muffled and it’s stupid but there’s only one song and it’s only the chorus that he can think of.

So…. well…

He makes sure she’s comfy and he lays back in the bed a bit and he twists his face up a bit and sings rather awkwardly-

“Take me down to the paradise city… where the grass is green… and the girls are pretty… oh won’t you please take me home?”

She snuggles in more, burying her face into his arm and grabbing hold of it. He sighs a little, trying his damnedest to sing the chorus slowly and in some kind of tune that resembles a lullaby.

Somehow, for some reason, it does work- with only a couple repetitions of the chorus, El is fully calm and asleep against Billy’s arm, her own arms wrapped around it like it’s a teddy bear. The smile Billy gives to her is small and soft and involuntary, and he keeps singing the chorus, softer and softer and even softer, until he too is asleep.

And just imagine Hop’s heartwarming surprise when he comes into the cabin after a grueling and tiring shift to find El spread like a semi-broken starfish across the bed, the blankets mostly wrapped around her and yet with a hand still gripping onto the arm of Billy, who is half off the bed and yet still fully passed out.

He chuckles to himself as he pulls off his boots, makes some coffee for Billy to wake up to, and gets ready for some shut eye of his own.

And imagine Hop’s even more… perhaps confusing surprise when Guns and Roses’ Paradise City comes on the radio one night when they’re all driving back from the Byers’ home and El shouts out “lullaby!”

He shoots Billy a very confused look, to which the boy just shrugs and makes his best “I have no idea what she’s talking about and don’t ask me” face.

[youareunbearable]

okay look I know I said Fingon earns the epithet The Valiant 'cause he's bold enough to approach omega Mae in heat as a joke but now I can't help but obsess slightly over the idea alphas tend to avoid Mae when he's in heat bc he's Big and Tall and Very Deadly, you can't help but keep those things in mind when he's That Cranky, and yet! there Fingon goes sauntering up charming as you please and gets slung over Mae's shoulder like a caught deer and dragged to a private corner every time. king shit

AAKJFHAKFHAF LISTEN IM THRIVING YES THIS IS WHAT I WANT IN MY ASKBOX!!! ok so i laughed when i saw ur reply and have been world building around just that idea lmaooo

Like Mae HAS to be gorg in every au in Valinor, so I picture him as something ppl view as like, the IDEAL omega: beautiful, great at taking care of children, good at minding a House, able to make political connections/small talk, smart, strong, from a good family, able to protect kids/loved ones, tall, etc.

But like, the more "violent" traits were less desirable with elves when they got to Valinor, for why would an Omega need to be able to fight and protect their family from the Dark Hunter if Valinor is peaceful? and as a second gen elf born in Valinor, the traits that makes Mae the Perfect Ideal Omega for the older generations makes those of his generation hesitate to approach. A beautiful deadly creature to be admired from afar, yet a flee on sight once he gets close.

It makes dating hard, it doesn't help that Feanor makes for a crazy and intense in-law.

I like to think that Mae had one heat partner before Fingon. Fingon might not have started his ruts or whatever at this point (because there is the age gap) but like he would have been so close that Mae might have been a little confused/cautious if hes a pup or not (he decides on pup and Fingon is Vibrating with "please god pick me" energy and hes a little heartbroken at being dismissed. Cue plan "Become the most Alpha to ever Alpha ever"). Anyways, Fingon sees Mae fight/test this alpha to see if hes strong/worthy to spend his heat with him/maybe bond?? before he is whisked away by someone else for safety and he saw the aftermath. The cuts and scratches, the brusies, the bitemarks, how exhausted the Alpha was after and vowed right there to Be Better for Mae. Others saw the aftermath too and no matter how much that alpha said how pleased he was about being chosen, no sex is good enough to risk disfiguration with scars.

This is where Fingon comes in. When Mae has another Heat and is prowling around Formenos (not exiled yet but its away from the city and easier on the Omega territorial instincts and there is less of an alpha/beta population to terrorize) protecting His family and he catches the scent of Alpha on the wind and hunts him down. The alpha is shorter than him, but strong, and no matter how much force Mae puts into his attacks the alpha doesn't back down until Mae feels content and allows himself to be pinned by the alpha and expose his neck. The scent goes from Alpha to Fingon and Mae feels his heart swell that the alpha that is perfect for him is the one he loves already.

And then thats it. I like to think they formed a marriage bond/mating bond or whatever, but even if they dont then i can see them still spending Mae's heats together in Beleriand.

I also think that other races are more "traditional" with Omega heats than the elves. Like men have i feel like the classic ABO society. Hobbits have much more Omegas and Betas than Alphas, so their society views Omegas as people who typically have positions of power more so than other races. Dwarves have low numbers of Omegas and women, however they value the idea of Omegas and women as protectors of the home, so they are still taught to fight even if they don't really leave the mountians. They are prized, so many are very honoured and hold high positions that impact the home/doesn't involve a lot/any of travel. The Dwarves opinion of Mae skyrocketed not only after he saved their king but also defended Himring to such an incredible degree during the Battle of Sudden Flame. Ideal Omega in their eyes and was huge when helping build his Alliance

[bangtaninink]

“it’s never a bad time to watch 'shrek’!” + joon (i dont have an au for this bc theres never a specific instance for shrek. watching shrek is good all the time)

DRABBLE NUMBER......... 006 MEMBER............................ kim namjoon (rm) AU......................................... police

"_____, i count two behind you," namjoon's voice comes through your earpiece. "watch your six."

"got it," you reply, voice low, keeping your grip tight on your pistol as you round the corner, pressing your back against the wall and listening for approaching footsteps.

"they're about five steps behind you."

you nod, despite not being able to see namjoon directly. the footsteps grow louder, and you count one, two, three, four...

you quickly turn over the corner of the wall, arm extended to fire a bullet into the shoulder of each of the men following behind you, impact knocking them back. another bullet each shoots the guns from their hands, and you run, gun pointed at the them.

"don't even think about moving, you two," you say, boot coming down onto one man's chest to keep him still. "seoul metro police. you're both under arrest."

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

"man, i hate to say it, but that was kinda badass," hoseok says, grinning as he approaches you and namjoon. "good job, you two."

"thanks," you say, chuckling as you pull the velcro strip keeping your vest shut.

"i hardly think i can take any of the credit," namjoon says, leaning against the patrol car. "considering i was just surveillance today."

"i know," hoseok says, already walking off. "i was just trying to be nice. _____ definitely did all the work."

"_____. namjoon."

the both of you turn to see yoongi approaching, arms tucked into the pockets of his coat, plumes of smoke slipping from the top of the thick scarf wrapped around his neck.

"congratulations," he says, corners of his lips just slightly lifted in something that looks like a smile. "i see your crazy plan paid off in the end, _____."

"ah, well. you know me, captain. i'm a big fan of the unconventional," you reply, shrugging.

"and i'm sure i'll have your report for this case on my desk first thing tomorrow."

"sure you will. namjoon will make sure of it. right, joon?"

"ah, well. you know me. i love a good written report hours after completing a raid," namjoon says, shrugging too.

"i feel like i should be concerned that you're being genuine about that, but it saves me a lot of time, so i'm gonna move on from that," yoongi says, expression hardly shifting. "clean yourselves up, and then you're dismissed for the day."

you and namjoon nod, watching as yoongi walks off, laughing quietly to yourselves when hoseok visibly tenses and straightens up when he spots the captain coming his way.

"hey," namjoon says, nudging your shoulder. "wanna come back to my place, order some takeout and just hang out? i think we deserve a chill night."

"sounds perfect," you say.

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

"behold! one of the greatest movies of all time!"

you look up from your chinese takeout, chopsticks halfway to your lips, at the screen of namjoon's tv.

"you're kidding, right?" you say, eating a mouthful of noodles.

"this is a classic," namjoon says, sitting down on the sofa next to you, reaching for his container of sweet and sour pork.

"we just took down the second biggest drug cartel in the city -- maybe the country -- and you wanna celebrate that by watching 'shrek'? sounds bad."

"it's never a bad time to watch 'shrek'! it's fun for the whole family, has an original plotline, and ends with an iconic musical number."

"namjoon, as your partner, i feel like i have a responsibility to tell you when you're being weird, so i'm gonna go ahead and say it: you're being really fuckin' weird," you say, sighing and chuckling as you shake your head, watching the opening scene fade in from black.

"i would watch this in our car if i could. or at my desk. maybe i'll watch this again tomorrow morning when i write up our report," he says, turning up the volume.

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

"you're literally missing the best part right now," namjoon says quietly. he doesn't look away from the screen, watching animated robin hood swing from branch to branch as he sings, eyes wide, the corners of his lips slightly raised in a small smile. "'monsieur hood'! hah. so good."

he mouths along to the dialogue, completely engrossed in the movie; until, that is, he feels a weight on his arm all of a sudden.

namjoon turns and looks down to see you leaning up against him, eyes shut, lips slightly parted, soft, equal breaths clearing showing you're asleep.

"really?" he scoffs quietly. "you're gonna fall asleep in the middle of 'shrek'? how disrespectful..."

his words trail off, because the longer he looks at you, the more he realises that maybe there's more to you than being his hot-headed partner, who drinks a minimum of three large coffees a day, and smokes a couple cigarettes at every lunch break. it's strange to see you so... calm, so relaxed and peaceful.

his eyes fall to the small bandaid stuck above your eyebrow from where a piece of glass had cut you earlier, confused as to why he suddenly feels so worried about how the scar will heal, or if the raid you both pulled off tonight might somehow come back to haunt you in the future. namjoon feels a small flutter in his chest at the thought that maybe you'll have trouble sleeping at night because of this case -- or any of your other cases later on -- and maybe, just maybe, he should do a better job at looking out for you, the way you seem to do for him all the time without him realising.

"mmm... do you know the muffin man?" you suddenly mutter in your sleep, turning to hide your face in his arm. "'cause i do, you son of a bitch."

it takes every ounce of willpower for namjoon not to laugh.

[beloved-child-of-the-house]

Fic Writer Questions! (you can find me here on AO3 if you're interested!)

tagged by dear @theburialofstrawberries mwah!

1) How many works do you have on AO3?

112 yowza!

2) What’s your total AO3 word count?

750,421 kinda tempted to go delete one word so it can be 750420 which is a far more Pleasing number

3) How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

12ish but some of them overlap: BBCS/Sherlock Holmes/ACD (these are all different bc my bbcs fics are not the same as my own modern fem Sherlock Holmes adaptation are not the same as my ACD Holmes fic; Good Omens; Harry Potter/The Werewolf Draco Malfoy Cinematic Universe; Captive Prince; The Hobbit; Fleabag (it was a crossover with BBCS but Fleabag is the perspective character so it still counts as a separate fandom imo); Doctor Who; The Office; Parks and Rec; Broad City (one a piece for those last 5 but I AM going to write a Parks and Rec polycule fic for @gaykagome)

4) What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

They're all Good Omens fics from the 2019 Summer of Good Omens! Susceptible to Summer, Fragments Shored Against My Ruin, Something So Magic, Enter Serpent, and Anything We Like

All of those have over 2k except the last one, but average engagement for me is like 400 kudos or so

5) Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

I try! It depends on what's going on with me. Sometimes I just don't have the energy, and I figure people would rather I spend my brain power on writing new fics than on writing replies to comments. Wish I had a fave button tho so I could let people know I read and reread comments, because I do!

6) What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Oh I wrote this ficlet series called A Chemical Defect about John and Sherlock's relationship in s3 of BBCS, and it's WILDLY unpopular. People don't read my fic to cry sad tears I guess! John and Sherlock are having an affair in the story, and it ends with the implication that their relationship is unsustainable and that Mary knows about it anyway. I intended to come back to it after s4 and write a more optimistic ending but LOL! Didn't have the heart.

7) What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

I know this answer is kinda up my own ass, but like. I think stories that feel true to life sort of feel like they end on a beginning if you know what I mean? You don't really consider a chapter of your life closed until you look back on it from the next? SO that said, I think I'd have to say that it's my big BBCS serial The Only One in the World. I spent 2 years writing it, and it ends with John retiring from medicine to solve crimes and write books full time.

Could also be my WDMCU (werewolf Draco Malfoy cinematic universe) series Moonrise, which starts with Draco isolated in his abusive mother's house, trying to cope with lycanthropy essentially alone and ends with him in love and surrounded by found family in a cozy cottage in Hogsmeade, having gotten some lycanthrope rights legislation passed after working at it for years and talking to Harry about whether they want to have kids. Oh man I feel warm and fuzzy just thinking about it

8) Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you’ve written?

I have written one crossover. It's BBCS/Fleabag, because me and @loudest-subtext-in-tv were laughing about how John seems like one of the horrible guys Fleabag sleeps with basically out of self loathing, so I wrote this fic to make Nattie laugh, and you should read it bc it's so good and so underrated.

9) Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Not really, but people don't seem to know that authors can read bookmark tags unless you private the bookmark, and someone once put in the bookmark tag on one of my fics 'writing was meh but it was okay.' Okay so why bookmark it then??

10) Do you write smut? If so what kind?

Fuck yes! I'm not sure what 'what kind?' means? People fucking? Sloppy, silly, and awkward, with lots of laughing. I also really like writing afterglow scenes which are even sillier and gigglier and often involve one character cooking for another. Food as love language is a very distinct pattern of mine tbh

11) Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I'm aware of, but occasionally I'll write a post on here where I make some elaborate head canon, and I'll see people in the tags talking about how they want to write fic of it, and it makes me breathe fire out of my nose like a dragon like PLEASE DON'T. The WDMCU came out of a ficlet post I made on here like a year before I actually wrote the 60k series so like!!! Please don't do that!

12) Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes! To Russian and I believe Chinese. Not my entire oeuvre but a handful of BBCS and Good Omens fics

13) Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, but I wrote a fic inspired by an RP I did with my gf right around when we met (actually now that I think about it, it's two fics), and I waaaaaaanna do a WDMCU collab with my beloved Sally @clytemenestras at some point if he has time bc he inspired me to even write werewolf draco with his original lesbian werewolf story

14) What’s your all time favorite ship?

favorites are hard for me? I always think I'm currently doing my best writing lol so I'll say drarry

15) What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

I don't post fics unless theyre finished, so I don't have any WIP up on AO3, but I did intend to continue with my fem Sherlock Holmes series, Your Many Tendencies. I just haven't been in a Holmes mood for a long time. Maybe I'll come back to it idk. This particular series is honestly very unpopular? People will just straight up say they don't read femslash, and it hurts a lot. This series feels really personal too, bc it's about a Black autistic nonbinary lesbian, so it does hurt my feelings that no one seems to care, yknow? I mean the people who read it are extremely kind and thoughtful in their engagement with it, but it has vastly less engagement than my m/m fic, and that's painful. It gets literally 1/10 the attention my fics usually get.

16) What are your writing strengths?

Almost all of my writing is romance, but I tend to write concurrently about recovery and found family, and I think I'm very good at doing that in a way that connects with my audience. I once had someone ask if they could use my words in their wedding vows, and I've had people tell me they started doing things with their spouse that my characters do with their partners in order to express love. I think about that all the time. My Impact. It makes me feel like I have a real duty to my audience yknow?

17) What are your writing weaknesses?

This question is hard for me like I've been writing so long and so much that I'm literally always happy with my final draft! It's always exactly to my taste, yknow? I suppose I could say that my fics tend not to be terribly plotty but so WHAT? That's beside the fuckn point for me. Plot who? I don't know Her. Also honestly like. Stories feel more True to me when they aren't ruthlessly devoted to plot bc like life isn't like that yknow?

18) What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

If you're not fluent in that language, get a beta who is!!!!! That said, I have written scraps of very simple dialogue in French using mostly Google Translate (sometimes I check w Sally bc he speaks French but I am usually too impatient), and I am perfectly well aware that I take my life in my hands each time!!! Also don't do that bullshit thing where it's in italics? That shit is weird and exoticizing. Just write it in quotation marks like normal dialogue.

19) What was the first fandom you wrote for?

BBCS babey back in 2012. Ended a 5 year dry spell for me after I got my writing degree.

20) What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

Hmmmm I think it's probably gonna be the fic I'm working on now that I haven't posted yet, but I know it's called Names for a House, and here's a tiny bit of it

Thanks again Shreya for asking me to do this bc I really love talking about myself. I tag @the-moon-loves-the-sea, @clytemenestras, @tomiano, @gaykagome and @totallysilvergirl

No pressure <3

[conniecaserole]

Hank and Larry hcs

ok so hank says be first met larry at a party he and his wife came into town for

-the party is a retirement party of an old colleague of hank (math teacher hank 🥺)

-his wife is a dolled up and excited bc they left the kids at home with her mother and they booked a hotel in the city so they could have a nice night

-larry’s mother knows the colleague maybe the wife of the colleague and they mention needing someone to take photos at the party so she volunteers larry

-larry initially is like nahh bc he mainly does fashion photography not party photos but he decides to do it for the money and he figures he might find someone to hook up with at the party

-hank notices larry bc how could you not he is wearing the skinniest pants ever

-his wife mentions how cute larry is and hank is like shit she knows i was looking but she doesn’t say anything else so he is like cool

-he feels bad for looking at a guy while his wife is right next to him but he also wishes she hadn’t come bc maybe he would have been able to talk to the guy

-larry comes up to their table to take pictures, hank can’t talk bc larry is so beautiful, larry teases him, they introduce themselves and then larry moves on

-hank watches him go to another table where larry bends down to pick something up aka showing his ass and then turns around to give hank a wink

-larry figures hank is a closet case and has fun messing with him but doesn’t think hank has the nerve to flirt/make a move directly

-party is nearing the end and hank’s wife has gone back to the hotel bc she wasn’t feeling good (hank is secretly thrilled) he tells her he needs to talk to people or something so he stays

-most people have left when hank goes up to larry while he is packing up

-they talk blah blah

-larry asks where hank’s wife is

-larry tells hank he needs to get something in the backroom and indicates hank should follow him

-hank waits a few seconds and then follows him

-larry figures that hank is super inexperienced and nervous so he thinks he is going to have to show him the ropes

-hank tho had been hooking up with guys prior to meeting larry so he knew his stuff

-they get down to business

-larry is shocked at how good hank is

-they banter

-they then finish. blah blah. its a bit awkward as they get redressed

-larry decides to give hank his card if he is ever back in the city, which is something larry never does. he usually is a one time type of guy maybe if he sees them again he’ll do it but he has never gone out seeking a second time with someone directly

-he figures that it’s not a big deal (it is) bc hank probs won’t ever call him but he secretly hopes he will bc damn hank is fine

-hank goes back to the hotel, takes shower, his wife is thankfully is asleep

-hank goes to bed planning another trip back into the city

-ok so a few weeks past from the first meeting, hank has to go into the city for something (idk what a math teacher has to do in the city but there is something)

-he tells his wife he is going in on friday and staying until saturday so he books a hotel

-hank is nervous to call larry but he does

-larry senses that hank is nervous so he teases him a bit

“why are you calling me, hank?”

“um, i’m going to be in new york this friday. you said i could call you if i ever came back?”

“what hotel?”

-hank gives larry the hotel name and a time

-blah blah its friday, they both get to the hotel, blah blah

-they banter, they get down to it

-larry has a rule abt never staying over for anyone he hooks up with so after they finish he gets up to leave

-hank is a bit upset but its not like he has any experience with this type of things, he mainly would go to clubs or something to hook up with guys. he never did the hotel thing until larry

-larry leaves

-they get a routine of this with hank coming in on the weekend, larry coming over but never staying the night

-at first it was just physical, right when larry would come over they’d do it

-but then they started to prolong it with larry asking hank abt his week and hank asking him abt his photography. never super deep stuff

-one weekend when hank arrives at the hotel, he gets a call from larry saying he woke up feeling sick and he cant come

-hank is bummed bc he was of course looking forward to seeing larry but he decides to bring larry some soup

-he knows where larry lives bc one night it was raining super bad and since larry still didn’t want to spend the night, hank drove him home

-hank gets soup and heads to the apt

-he is worried that larry might be lying and that he could be with another guy

-hank knows larry is not exclusive with him

-he notices all the marks on larry’s skin, marks he didn’t make

-hank doesn’t like it but he likes larry

-when he knocks, larry opens up the door and defo looks sick

-he is shocked that hank came

“what are you doing here?”

“i brought you soup”

-larry invites hank in and takes the soup

-larry reminds him that he is sick and cant do any sexual stuff and hank is like ok?? thats not why im here

-larry is confused, he hasn’t ever just hung out(no sex) with someone he was sleeping with. it was too couple like

-they end up talking (abt their past and family) and watching tv and its nice

-larry falls asleep on hank’s shoulder

-it gets late and hank wants to respect larry’s choice not to ever sleep over so he wakes him up and gets ready to leave

-larry tho asks him if he wanted to stay (this is big for him but he tries to ignore it)

-hank does

-from then on, hank stops booking hotels and instead heads straight to larry’s apt and stays over

-larry’s apt is your typical artist shithole but it works

-sometimes larry makes hank dinner (he tells himself that its just bc hank might be hungry from the drive)

-sometimes they just talk and not have sex

-larry stops going to the baths/clubs the days leading up to hank’s visits (he still goes but not on those days). he knows hank doesn’t like seeing other guys’ marks on larry’s skin so he tries to not to do it

-and if he lets hank give him marks well its bc hank wants to (and larry likes it but he would never admit that to anyone)

-this is the longest larry has slept with the same person and its not a big deal (it is)

-after a few more months of this larry forgets that it is harold’s birthday on the day hank was supposed to come

-he doesn’t want to miss the birthday party but he also doesn’t want to cancel on hank (hank’s wife has been a bit more suspicious so they had to cut down on the number of visits)

-larry decides to fuck it and takes hank to the birthday party

-emory, michael, bernard, harold and some other friends are there

-they are lowkey shook bc they know that larry  has never stayed with the same guy

-they are also shook that hank is married

-michael drinks and decides to confront hank and tells him abt larry, that he will never settle, that he will always want more, and that he is sleeping with other guys behind hank’s back

-hank knows all of this but it still hurts

-emory flirts with hank while larry is talking to someone else

-larry notices this and finds himself getting jealous. its not like emory and hank are making out or anything but emory has his hand on hank’s arm and hank is laughing

-larry walks over and asks hank if he wants to go home (yes larry has started to refer to his home as just home for him and hank)

-emory doesn’t miss this interaction and will later tease larry the next time he sees him

-everyone likes hank (and hank likes them, he feels comfortable with them) and larry begins to invite hank over when he is hanging out with them

[peachfaeryy]

Hi 🌙

It's my birthday right now. I'm 26 now.

1. What is my fondest childhood memory?

My fondest childhood memories definitely consist of the lovely people who I grew up with and derived my sense of humor/silliness from: my cousins Anna & Emily, Savannah -- my childhood best friend, and Kaleb, my eternal crush. These memories consist of them in elementary school, camp, and my grandma's house in San Antonio.

2. What is my favorite comfort food?

Probably nachos/chips/chips & queso.

3. What’s my favorite way to exercise?

Uh...DANCE.

4. Am I a morning person or a night owl?

I lean more towards night owl but I try to avoid both.

5. If I could have any superpower, what would it be?

The currency of youth.

6. Do I prefer cooking, baking, or neither?

I love both cooking and baking :) I find both extremely rewarding and cathartic.

7. Am I an introvert or an extrovert?

Ambivert strongly introvert-leaning.

8. What superhero do I find most relatable?

None, I detest all superheroes.

9. What is my favorite season of the year — and what do I love most about it?

Winter because it provides me with the most amount of physical comfort. I love sleeping in a very cold room, opening my windows with no AC on. Sitting in my car listening to music/eating with engine off. Less humidity. Food is tastier. Style is better.

10. Do I believe in the existence of angels?

Not particularly? Well, yes but I believe they have absolutely no role or effect on our world.

11. What are my favorite TV series?

American Crime Story (OJ & Versace), Fleabag, Atlanta...90 Day Fiance, Game of Thrones

12. What was the last movie I watched (or the last movie I enjoyed)?

Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest (let's gooOoo)

13. Am I a tidy person or a messy one?

I used to be very messy but not I'd consider myself pretty tidy. My nature is messy though.

14. Am I afraid of the dark?

Nah.

15. Am I more of a coffee person or a tea person?

Mostly coffee.

16. What talents do I possess that I’m proud of?

I don't have any natural-born talents but I suppose my ability to teach myself a new skill over time.

17. Do (or did) I like school?

I loved school and literally work at a school.

18. Did I go to the prom?

Unfortunately, yes.

19. What is my idea of a perfect date?

Definitely grabbing pizza at a nice restaurant.

20. Do I enjoy DIY or crafts?

Not at all, sounds awful, lol.

21. Do I forgive others easily?

Yes. But not so much anymore now that I'm older and more experienced. My instinct/nature is very forgiving.

22. Do I have a nickname — or did I ever have one?

None.

23. Do I have any phobias?

I'm scared of most anything anything everything...I'd say my daily fear is mistaking my razor for my toothbrush in the shower.

24. Have I ever met one of my heroes? If yes, who was it, and how did it go?

No?

25. Do I speak any other languages?

No, but I told myself I would learn Spanish before I die.

26. Have I ever traveled outside my native country?

Yes! I have been the Mexico and Ireland.

27. If money were no object, what would I want for my next birthday?

Maybe a trip to South Korea/Germany/Rhode Island

28. Have I ever been addicted to something?

Yes. But as far as substances? I'm addicted to Nsaid.

29. When I was a kid, what did I want to be when I grew up?

I wanted to be a wildlife photographer when I was a kid-kid.

30. Have I ever won something?

$75 with scratch offs

31. Have I ever narrowly escaped death (or serious injury)?

I'd say so, yes.

32. Do I prefer baths or showers?

Showers.

33. How am I feeling right now?

Changed.

34. Have I ever played any sports?

Soccer, Basketball, and cross-country

35. Do I prefer the beach or the mountains?

Beach, but I feel connected to both.

36. Do I prefer a Mac or a PC?

Uh...PC?

37. Do I prefer dogs or cats (or some other pet)?

Cats...I honestly do not like dogs at all.

38. Do I have any piercings or tattoos? Would I like to get any?

I have three tattoos: three rune, a sword, and a butterfly. All of which are on my arms.

39. Do I have kids?

Not right now.

40. Do I have siblings?

None.

41. What do I do on a typical Friday night?

Same thing I usually do: practice dance/choreo for a couple of hours. Read, cook, watch Youtube. If I’m going out, I’ll maybe grab dinner/hang with my friends. I MAY go to ~the club~ in a blue moon.

42. If I could go anywhere in the world with unlimited funds, where would I go?

SOUTH KOREA

43. What do I do to relax?

Shower, listen to music. Do my makeup for fun.

44. What do I do to wake up or boost my energy levels?

Blast Stray Kids

45. Would I rather have unlimited energy or unlimited money?

Unlimited money

46. Am I a collector of anything? If yes, how big is my collection?

I collect Kpop bullshit...(albums, photo cards, posters, etc.) essentially merch from my favorite artists.

47. What sort of gift would I want from my significant other on Valentine’s Day or on my birthday?

JUST flowers. All I care about it getting flowers on both of those days.

48. Which would I rather avoid — excess heat or extreme cold?

Excess heat.

49. Would movie genre would I rather watch: action, romance, fantasy, or horror?

Of those choices: horror. I also like a solid journey story.

50. Have I ever been on a diet? If yes, how did it go?

More like a mini eating disorder, lol? I went through phases where I only consumed 1500 calories.

51. If I could live anywhere for a month with whomever I choose, where would that be?

Greece with I suppose...someone I get along with.

52. Have I ever gone camping? Or do you look at a tent and think, “I feel like that’s the wonton wrapper, and I’m the filling.”

Yes, several times. I actually thoroughly enjoy camping.

53. What’s the last song I listened to?

Ribs -- Lorde

54. What’s my current obsession, and how much have I spent on it?

Anything kpop...hours. I’m talking hours and hours.

55. What’s a favorite book of mine?

We Need to Talk About Kevin

56. What should I be doing right now?

Sleeping.

57. What’s my best feature?

Physically? Boobs.

Personality? I would say kindness but that’s basic. Witty? Self-discipline.  

58. What’s the most expensive article of clothing (or shoes) that I own?

Damn...shoes...? $100?

59. What is one thing I could not live without?

Music. My one coping mechanism and literally the reason I’m alive and functional.

60. What’s one thing I can’t leave the house without (other than keys and my wallet)?

Phone... BC packet?

61. What’s one of my pet peeves?

Slow walkers

62. What wild animal would I love to have for a pet (as long as it didn’t eat anyone)?

Maybe like...a toucan?

63. What’s my favorite drink?

An ICE COLD fizzy SODA boiii

64. What’s my spirit animal, and do I own anything featuring that animal?

I guess I’m very cat-like. I used to have a lot of cat stuff, but not anymore...

65. What’s my favorite restaurant, and what’s my favorite splurge order?

I like basically any fast food joint. I’m also a sucker for Chili’s. I’m really basic. A splurge order for me would be ordering a margarita with my meal.

66. What’s my favorite movie — or the best one I’ve seen in the last three years?

I’ve been obsessed with We Need to Talk About Kevin, Pirates of the Caribbean...I’ve been wanting to rewatch Little Miss Sunshine

67. What’s a favorite hobby of mine?

Dancing :)

68. What’s my favorite go-to snack?

Health-wise: apples and peanut butter. But if I don’t care: chips

69. What are my must-haves for watching a movie in a theater?

True interest in the film

70. What’s my favorite kind of competition to watch (sports, cooking, etc.)?

Not really into competition shows.

71. Would I rather get an electric shock or get an intramuscular shot (tetanus, etc.)?

Electric shock?

72. What’s my dream car?

Bella’s shitty red truck let’s gooooo

73. What are the must-haves in the home of my dreams?

LOTS of open space, sunlight, heated bathroom floor

74. What’s my favorite sandwich?

Chicken salad, BLT, plain peanut butter

75. What’s my favorite kind of dinner? (comfort food, four-course, take-out Chinese…)

Comfort food

76. If I could change my eye and hair color, what color/s would I choose?

I would DEF change my eye color to a warm brown and my hair to very dark brown. I’m growing my natural hair out. I’m going dye-free right now.

77. Who is my favorite fictional character (or one of them)?

Jack Sparrow

78. What’s my longest relationship so far (other than family)?

4 years...

79. What is my star sign — or do I usually avoid that question?

I DO NOT care about this but I’m a Leo

80. What is my lucky number, or what is a favorite number of mine?

Uh? N/A

81. What city do I live in now, and what’s my favorite thing about it?

I still live in Denton and I detest it.

82. What state do I live in now, and what do I love about it?

Texas, its diversity.

83. If I had to move to a different state, where would I rather go?

New Mexico

84. Have I ever colored my hair? If yes, what’s my favorite hair color experiment so far?

Yes, most of my teen and adult life. But my “crazy” hair experiment right now is going dye-free and wearing my natural color.

85. Whom do I miss right now?

My 14-year-old self

86. Have I ever made a mistake that someone else refused to forgive me for?

Apparently.

87. Do I have a celebrity crush? If yes, who is it?

JOHNNY DEPP and all of Stray Kids lol. Jungkook?

88. If I could meet any celebrity for coffee/tea and a chat, who would it be?

Marina Diamandis

89. As desserts go, would I rather have ice cream or cheesecake?

Ice Cream

90. Would I rather live in a house or an apartment, and why?

A small house.

91. Would I rather live in a treehouse, a cave, or a submarine?

Treehouse

92. What is one big goal that I want to accomplish this year?

Move out of D*nton.

93. What do I want to do for a living?

I’m happy being a teacher, but ultimately I’d like to counsel kids.

94. When I feel sick, where do I usually feel it first or most noticeably?

My head.

95. What sort of smartphone do I use, and what made me choose it?

Uh? Android?

96. What’s one movie that I’ve watched repeatedly? What do I love about it?

I watch signs pretty frequently. Midsommar? I connect with its characters because they seem like real actual people? I’ve been wanting to rewatch the Lovely Bones.

100. If I could afford one, would I rather hire a chef, a personal assistant, or a housekeeper?

Housekeeper!

97. What is one food that I refuse to eat?

Liver

98. What exotic food would I be willing to try?

I’d be open to trying most any food.

99. What is one item on my bucket list, and what made me choose it?

I’m kind of working on it now. I want to put a few years in while I’m young and able to become a very good dancer. I know that to obtain that it IS going to take years. It’s something that’s really important to me because I’ve always wanted that for myself but never made actual steps to obtain/execute it. And ultimately, I want it because it allows me to feel like my true self.

[ziracona]

Dwight/Jake wedding headcanons maybe? They deserve it.

For sure!

It’s a couple years down the road. They’ve been living in the Indiana house with Adam, while the others orbit in and out from Springwood and Lockport and Haddonfield and Indianapolis and Bloomington and New Jersey and Missouri and New York and such every few days. It’s peaceful and fun there for them. Woods, big house, familiar smells and people and memorobelia and Ron’s grave and markers added nearby for Vigo and Alex and Lisa and Sujan and the person from the lab with no name and the survivors who came before them and never got to be buried. It’s home. They’re just chilling, Dwight and Jake talking with intent but also very relaxed about something while Adam edits a sequel in his easy chair, deep in edit mode, when Jake calls over, “Hey Adam, do you want to be a best man, or do you want to marry us?”

Which Adam hears the wrong homophone for for a second and almost takes him out before he realizes they meant the other version of ‘marry’ and remembers how to breathe again.

He stutters out a, “Well, I, uh—I mean, I can do whichever you’d prefer, but I’m not ordained. In. Anything. I know I did Min and Nea’s, but—”

“—Yeah, we know, but we just need it to be legal,” Jake shrugs, “and we don’t want a stranger at the wedding period, so someone’s getting ordained.”

“I think you can get ordained online in like an hour,” adds Dwight helpfully, “and we’re not religious either, but—and now that I’m saying this it was Meg so that means I should make sure becuase sometimes her memory for numbers is uhhh bad, but she told me like a week ago you only need ten people to officially get your new religion recognized. And we could be ‘the survivors’ or something. I don’t know I believe in much, but I believe in that.”

Jake nods. “Whatever is true, this group of people can rip a hole in the fabric of the universe for each other. I’d ascribe to that.”

“I kind of like that,” says Adam, “I would too. But if we have a spiritual ‘leader’, wouldn’t Ace be a better choice than me? Or Jane?”

This is considered a good point and they debate between Adam, Jeff, Tapp, Jane, and Ace for a bit, [Philip is also briefly considered, but they realize just as fast he’d be overwhelmed and stressed by having to do it & mercifully swap him to another role], then decide on Ace, who’s always been the kind of...not exactly dad, not exactly uncle, but not not those things, and certainly some kind of an early spiritual or morale core for them, parentish figure, and a comfort and hope leader for them all. Also, they know he’ll get a fkn kick out of being ordained for this.

Dwight takes Quentin as his Best Man, Claudette his Maid of Honor, and Jake takes Nea as Matron of Honor, Andrew as Best Man, and Meg as Maid of Honor. They decide fuck it, and it’s kinda Parks & Rec (an argument used by and against Jake many times the next few weeks) anyway, and also both take Adam and Philip as Best Men because fuck it, it’s too hard and also wedding rules are arbitrary and made to be broken, and so then Jake adds Kate as a bridesmaid, Dwight adds Laurie, they realize the number of survivors is dwindling dangerously and decide fuck it, our wedding is for us might as well be fkn weird and cool, and add David, Min, Tapp, Jane, Jeff, and Laurie as groomsmen and bridesmaids too. This still leaves Michael, Anna, Sally, Benedict, Susie, Jeff’s three Legion kids, and everyone’s families which is like fkn a lot of people, to be audience party (sans Nancy, who is pleaded with to be wedding party and run the music pre-reception because the number of people that they want involved /and/ who won’t give in to or be tricked by Meg into some kind of terrible flash mob stunt is very small, and in fact, basically is just Nancy. She is happy to do it and thinks their desperate reasoning is hilarious).

They break the news to Meg and Claudette and Ace first (after Adam), ask Ace to marry them, and tell Meg she can run post-weddding/reception music however she wants, except the songs for a couples dance & parent dances. She is /thrilled/. Claudette is very happy and cries. They call up Quentin & Nea to add to the conversation and Jake says Nea and Meg and Susie are in charge of setting up the wedding because he knows they’re gonna fight him for the role anyway, but they have to throw whatever they can together with only the stuff they own already and $50, they want only family & the other survivors/their families at the wedding, the service short and sweet, and to have it at the cabin, by the river. Meg loses her mind with indignance and joy together, and goes buckwild. They hit thrift shops for fairy lights and streamers and more.

Everyone is thrilled to be asked, Jane says “about time,” and Philip can’t think of anything to say and gets overwhelmed emotionally and taken off guard to be asked to be a groomsman. It’s sweet. Everyone with fashion sense takes everyone else shopping or through their wardrobes for fun wedding clothes and to at least have accent pieces that match a color theme. (Complimentary blues, yellow/gold, and pinks to the grooms’. More on that). It’s super fun & they make a fashion show of it. There’s no matching in form, just color, which is just the best version anyway there’s really no goddamn reason to spend thousands of bucks on a wedding when you could just have a funky cute good time with the people who love you & no stress.

Jake picks a deep blue hanbok (bc the hottest Jake I’ve ever seen is the one @eggchef did for lunar new year & the note in the tags about an actual hanbok has been banging around in my head ever since), and when they’re going through stuff for Dwight, he comments a pink one is surprisingly nice because it’s not the color he’d expected to think about, and Jake remarks offhand that if they do deep blue and pink they’ll be stealing their girls’ looks, and the second he says that, they both know there’s no other choice now. Dwight gets a light pink suit and a tie that matches Jake’s blue. They’re adorable and both look exceedingly handsome.

The wedding is short and perfect. Ace does a great job, it’s a nice day, and Meg works wonders with her $50 budget and (notably obscenely large) preexisting store of party supplies, + help from her mom who is passing down the legacy of being the best tiny budget party planner on earth. It’s very open, but with near arches and dangling glass and prisims that cast rainbows everywhere, lots of meaningfully chosen for their blessings and symbolism flowers and flower chains from Claudette. It’s a little reminiscent of the birthday decorations Min and Nea did plus the prisims, and that accidentally makes all the survivors super emotional like 1 minute in.

Only the moms get to speak in the wedding (besides Ace and the grooms), and Andrew and Meg and Nea and Quentin and such all gotta save their roasts for the reception. It’s sweet. Ace knows them super well and it shows in the best way. The grooms write their own vows, and both echo their statements in the hatch tunnel without knowing the other was going to do so too. Jake starts with an “I am deeply, unendingly, ridiculously in love with you,” and Dwight brings in a, “I wouldn’t be who I am without you.” They end it with Dwight saying, “Will you still stay with me, now that it’s all over? Through whatever we’re thrown to next?” And Jake replying, “Wherever you go, I’ll always follow.”

I cry.

The reception is a party by the house. It’s just a huge prepared buffet made by the family who can cook, so no one has to sit and wait. Meg starts the music with Cascada’s Evacuate the Dance Floor because she doesn’t “want to see people dragging their feet like a bunch of fuckin weenies, I want asses on that dance floor!” There’s a lot of 90s and early 2000s pop, but also many many classic dance songs. Lots of ABBA. Lots of it. Everyone has great fun. Min, Nea, Susie, and Meg made the playlist, except for a few of the specific dances. Muriel Fairfield’s mother-son dance with Dwight is to Song For Ten by Neil Hannon because he knows she’s a sweet big emotional nerd and it’s the song she wants, and he’s willing to do it, and she sobs and is a mess but also the happiest she’s been since the day she got the call he was alive.

They have literally zero idea where they’re going when they drive off for a honeymoon. They’re like “Uhh so I’ve been looking at our complete and utter lack of wedding structure and planning as a good thing? But we might have overstepped that a little here....”

Dwight drives while Jake searches the web for LGBT safe honeymoon locations because there’s nothing that would ruin a trip more than that not working out, and reads off a list and Dwight is like, “Wait wait holy fuck, I though you meant what US cities or maybe Canada. Switzerland? Do we even have cash for the plane fare somewhere like that?” And Jake just looks at the page silently for a few seconds, shuts the laptop, and without expression says, “...I really hate this, but I’m gonna let myself be a rich boy, just once.”

They take Andrew’s jet to New Zealand (Jake calls him and listens for 2 minutes then just monotone goes “Okay but you owe me for being a dipshit for fifteen years,” and they get the ride). Jake picks a relaxed pace and some scuba diving, some hikes, but no overnight camping. Lots of just seeing the world and holding hands and grinning at how absolutely breathless and shocked Dwight is at every chunk of nature like nothing he’s seen before. They are disgustingly, blissfully happy.