#stone opens it and gets a nosebleed

[kellterntempest]

What if Robotnik made Stone wear kinky little outfits under his suit. What if

[pinkisthenewangst]

°`🍨: Yuta Okkotsu x GN! Reader

°`🍨: You were only the third choice

! Spoilers for the newest chapters

Your eyes were focused on the sky. The rain, that is falling from the grey clouds, landed on your face, feeling cool on your warm skin. Your body shuddering at the contact but you couldn't even feel your fingers at the moment. Your mind was blank, no thoughts behind your eyes. Somehow you felt like your brain was actually fried, not being able to think about anything or do something. Slowly, your tongue strokes over your upper lip, tasting a metal like liquid. You had a nosebleed. Ah yes, you started to remember how it all happened. You only wanted to help, using your domain, a family secret, more than just well-kept, since it is able to kill the user, but you over did it. You closed your eyes. Everything hurts but also felt so numb. Your heart started to beat in your ears as if you were listening to music through earphones. Your breath was steady but starting to get quiet until someone needs to feel your breath against their skin to be able to announce you still didn't die. You were wondering where he was. Your first love and probably last one if nobody finds you in your critical state. Slowly you see a figure in front of your eyes. Black hair that once looked a little wild, dark blue eyes shining like the ocean on a quiet beach night and his rosy lips, that used to be bitten quite a lot. Slowly you stretch your hand out, slowly and trembling, trying to touch the man in front of you but it wasn't the real one. Your hand touched the air and then fell to the ground as if the man chose to step back. You didn't feel the stones poking your skin. Everything was numb. Your heart squeezed painfully in your chest. You were not really sure if it's because of your condition or your realization. You loved Yuta but he will never look at you. You knew he loves Rika and you would never want him to stop but you also would never be bis second choice. In front of your eyes you see a tall girl with a high ponytail. Glasses shining in the sun, that slowly hides itself behind the tall trees of the forest. You would never be a second choice because Maki is right there. Staying strong beside him what you could never do. You were a weal sorcerer. Your whole family knew it but they wanted you to have friends with similar conditions. That makes you chuckle. Oh now blood starts to escape from your parted lips too. You were an outcast with normal people and people like them. They were strong and didn't need people to rescue them every time. They also didn't need to fear to just die when over using their technics and their technics, if they had any, could actually do something. But you could never understand the feeling to be useful.

Your technic can heal people but you would take over their wounds what would be very critical for yourself. You knew it and you still did it in a frustrated and scared panic, to lose them all. Now you were there, bleeding, in pain and slowly dying. Hoping that they are in a much better condition you are, after encountering a dangerous cursed spirit on a mission. It should have been an easy one, you were there so it needed to be easy. You didn't understand why all second years were with you, but it didn't matter anymore. They probably already exorcist it and are searching for you. Right ? Or did they already leave ? Letting you die in a forest, that slowly became a dark place after the sun disappeared. You don't even remember why you were there. Did you run away ? Did you hide here ? You can't remember and thinking is still very hard. It was silent until you started to close your eyes. They got heavy and dry. Just a little bit you thought. Then you will open them again and see your friends. Friends that never saw you as their friends. Maybe you will see Yuta for the last time. A boy you fell in love after meeting him in your first year. He became a dear friend to you. As if he sees you as a friend as well. Fell in love with his personality, his passion and his will to learn more. To become stronger to protect what he loves. Are you also someone he loves ? It's weird how many questions you suddenly ask yourself. But slowly you start to care less. Breathing becomes hard, it feels like choking on liquid. Opening your eyes didn't happen like you said. But then you felt it. Your body gets lifted and suddenly you are able to look into eyes. You hoped you would look in those dark blue eyes, that make you feel butterflies, that would never look at you for a long time since he already has his two choices. You didn't even look into eyes. They were hidden behind a black fabric. It was your teacher, maybe a man that believed you would grow stronger and that you only disappointed each time. He is biting his lip but you couldn't really read his expression. He must feel sorry for the others that he send me on this mission only to be a klutz for them. Sorry teacher, I also hoped to become a partner they needed. You heard footsteps, they are hectic and chaotic is if they are running in a high speed. You wanted to see who they are but you couldn't anymore. "Teacher, my body hurts …", you quietly say while your voice is cracking. It was silent before he whispers to you like you would do to a child: "Shh, it will get better, please rest". And you did, you think you heard Yuta's voice calling your name, but you didn't care. Resting sounded so much better than staying awake and being in pain. After letting the darkness consume you, your head slid slowly to the side. You stopped breathing.

When Yuta closed his eyes, laying on a metal table, he saw your smiling face. How he missed that sweet scene. Even if your face was a little bit blurry, he was somehow proud he didn't forget how eyes shined looking at him. Even if you voice didn't sound like he remembered it, his heart beat a little bit faster when he imagines you calling his name. He will change bodies with his teacher and even if he isn't able to bring the king of curses down, he will meet you and Rika again. He always imagined that you and Rika would be waiting for him on a field full of flowers. Waiting to lay a flower crown on his head and take his hands to run around like children. He smiled and took a deep breath. And if he survives, he will lay down a big bouquet on both gravestones like he always does.

°`🍨: Finally able to post it 🥹 Some Yuta Angst because there isn't enough!!

°`🍨: REQUESTS ARE CLOSED!

[taexual]

sleepwalking ● 13 | jjk

pairing: jungkook x fem!reader

summary: due to unfortunate circumstances, you ended up managing your ex-boyfriend’s band. you thought you’ve both made peace with it, but suddenly he’s very eager to prove to you that first love never dies.

genre: rockstar!jungkook / exes to lovers

warnings: ANGST, mentions of blood (nosebleed), alcohol consumption, suggestive themes & strong language

words: 10.5k

read from the beginning ○ masterlist

chapter 13 ► when the curtains call the time, will we both go home alive?

“So, how come—” Jungkook started to say before tossing a peanut into his mouth as he sat on the bed in your hotel room. Swallowing, he finished the question, “how come you’d never dated?”

It had been two days since you’d left your room or spoken to anyone outside. His hair was still wet from the shower the two of you had just taken and he felt like he was living here now.

“How about I answer that,” you said, tightening the towel on your chest as you picked up the neglected coal-black menu from the bedside table, “after we order room service. I can’t remember the last time we had a proper meal.”

You both knew that this would end tomorrow—Jungkook would have rehearsals, soundchecks, and a performance the next night. That was why you’d locked yourselves in your hotel room for two days straight, and spent the short break between Rated Riot’s concerts in your bed. And in the shower. And on the floor of your room.

It was the highlight of the tour for you so far, not that you’d ever admit that out loud. But you were afraid of what would happen when you opened the door of your hotel room tomorrow morning.

Your phone had been on the whole time, no one had called you in these past two days—which made sense, because everyone was resting. But they might have questions tomorrow. And you would not have any answers.

There was also Nick to consider, although Reconnaissance was the last thing on your mind. The last few days with Jungkook seemed to reaffirm what you’d already decided – you loved Rated Riot too much to leave.

And maybe you loved Jungkook too much to leave, too.

But two days was not enough time to get used to each other all over again, and it was certainly not enough for the “so, what are we?” conversation, let alone the “logically, we can’t do this” conversation. That was something you and Jungkook deliberately chose not to talk about. At least not now.

But time was running out, and the first heavy stones of anxiety began to settle in your stomach as you skimmed over the menu.

You rested on the edge of the bed and Jungkook leaned over your shoulder to look at the food listing, commenting, “I actually didn’t realise how hungry I was until you mentioned it.”

“It's because you stuffed yourself with peanuts,” you pointed out and shifted the menu to the side so he could see it better. “What would you like?”

“You,” he replied, letting his inner teenager loose.

Rolling your eyes, you said, “I meant to eat.”

“Still yo—”

“Okay, quit your games for a second,” you ordered with enough humour to make him snicker. “Just pick something from the menu.”

“Fine,” he mumbled and pointed at seemingly the first thing he saw. “I guess a chicken burger will be fine.”

“Okay, I’ll have pasta, I guess. They recommend ravioli,” you said, scanning the list. “Do you want dessert? They have limoncello meringue, which sounds fancier than it probably is, but I also see Tiramisu, and—”

Immediately, Jungkook interjected, “there are better desserts I can think of—”

“Tiramisu and ice cream sounds perfect, I’m glad you agree,” you cut him off as he threw himself back on the bed, laughing—as always, he was thoroughly entertained to see you flustered.

You went over to the other side of the bed and placed the order with a very pleasant lady on the hotel telephone.

As soon as you hung up—he was waiting for it—Jungkook reminded you, “you didn’t answer my question.”

You sighed and returned to your spot on the bed, readjusting your towel before sitting down.

“I dated,” you said as a way of answering. It was a stretch since you had been on exactly four dates in the last four years. You supposed you chose to be faithful to your job instead, and in any case, managing Rated Riot didn’t leave you much free time. You added, “it just didn’t develop into any relationships.”

“Why not?” Jungkook asked.

You shrugged. “I don’t let people in easily. And I already have enough people that I love as it is.”

Despite your apparent nonchalance as you said this, he felt the gravity of your words – and all that they encompassed: the single-mother household and the care of a child that you didn’t have, the never-ending letdowns from every father figure in your life, and, ultimately, the family you found in Rated Riot.

“Hm,” he pondered the best approach. Deciding that you would probably resist and change the subject if he delved deeper, he cleared his throat, moved his hand behind his head as he rested on the pillow and asked—about as casually as he could, “so, am I the only boyfriend you’ve had?”

You looked up and noticed the smirk on his lips. His posture was deliberately designed to emphasise the immaturity of the question.

“As if I’ll answer that,” you said.

“Oh, come on,” he huffed. “Why not?”

“Your ego is way too big as it is,” you said. “I won’t be the one to stroke it more.”

You regretted your choice of words as soon as they were out of your mouth, but Jungkook still managed to speak up before you could stop him, “there’s something else you can—”

“Jungkook! What the fuck?” You were laughing now, unable to help yourself. “What’s with you? You’re acting like a frat boy.”

Shrugging his shoulders, he said simply, “I don’t know what you mean. I’m just happy.”

The warmth in your chest at the very simple word must have shown on your face because his smile suddenly widened.

 “So am I?” he pushed. “The only boyfriend you’d had?”

You groaned, knowing that he wouldn’t drop this unless you answered.

“You are,” you said—he looked outrageously thrilled, so you added quickly, “regrettably.”

The grin disappeared from his face. Offended as if you had insulted his entire family, he repeated, “regrettably?!”

“I’m not known for my good taste in men,” you clarified.

He scoffed, sitting up on the bed.

“Hell yeah, you’re not,” he asserted. “You’re known for your excellent taste in men, considering I’m the only man you’ve been in a relationship with.”

You shook your head at his enthusiastic attempt to lift himself up.

“Well, what about you?” you asked then.

“What about me?”

“I know you dated,” you said. “So, what number am I on your list of girlfriends?”

Jungkook gave you a long, almost disappointed look.

He wouldn’t have called what he did dating. He would have called it meeting people and searching for you in every single one of them.

He thought you’d be able to guess that.

“Respectfully,” he started, “I’ve been in love with you since the day we met. What number do you think you are?”

You lowered your gaze—because it was difficult to prevent your instinctive reaction from showing on your face when he looked at you like that—and Jungkook felt his excitement return.

“Well, anyway,” you said. His grin grew wider. “Uh, I was also going to ask what you wanted to do after your concert tomorrow.”

He was fully expecting the change of topic. And he felt delighted, because usually, you would have disagreed with him. You’d have insisted he didn’t know what he was talking about.

With you, the change of topic felt like a win.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“Well, you took me out to ride bicycles,” you replied. “Let me do something for you while we’re still in Amsterdam.”

Smirking, he remarked, “we did a lot more than just riding bikes in Amsterdam.”

You clicked your tongue, unable to argue because he’d made a solid point.

“What if that’s what I want to do, no matter what city we’re in?” he asked, the suggestive question only strengthened by the glint in his eye.

“Well,” you started and looked away, because his glittering eyes made him look like he belonged on a billboard and not on the bed in your hotel room, clad in a cheap robe. “That could be arranged.”

Chuckling, he scooted closer to you on the bed. “Yeah?”

“Mmhmm.” He was so close to you that you could feel the refreshing minty scent of the hotel shampoo in his hair. “But I’ll have to check my schedule.”

“Your schedule,” he said, leaning his forehead against yours, “better have my name under every single day. In capital letters.”

“Ah, but don’t I get the weekends off?” you teased. Your lips brushed against his with every syllable and Jungkook closed his eyes so he wouldn’t go insane.

“No,” he breathed. “I need you every day of the week.”

He finally leaned in to connect your lips in a soft, lingering kiss. When he felt your tongue meet his as the kiss deepened, he realised just how much he’d meant what he’d just said. He would have cancelled all of his plans—all of them, for the rest of his life—to stay on this bed with you.

He kissed you and you tasted like last night and the night before that. Like every night he’d dreamt of kissing you for the past four years. You tasted like the rest of his life.

And suddenly, a painful, near-fatal realisation struck him.

He couldn’t ask you to get back together. He couldn’t ask you to never leave him again.

Because he hadn’t proved to you that he deserved it. Because you were still afraid of what everyone else would think. Because Sid was still on tour with him, and you still didn’t know about the bet.

You felt his body twitch next to yours and he pulled away, his eyes wide.

You watched him in shocked silence for a minute before asking, “w-what’s wrong?”

“I—” He blinked, overwhelmed by all the thoughts that rushed to the surface of his mind. “I have—there’s something—”

There was a knock on the door that forced you both to flinch in surprise. Jungkook looked like the knock came from a pack of hellhounds who had arrived to drag him straight to hell.

“It’s probably the food,” you said, your eyes not leaving his face. “Can this wait, or—or do you want to—is there something you have to say?”

Jungkook still looked like a wild animal, trapped in the blinding brightness of headlights, but he felt himself shake his head. Asking you to wait and listen would have only added to the significance of what he had to say.

“No,” he said, swallowing. “This can—it can wait.”

In the end, Jungkook lost his nerve and you didn’t have any of the conversations that you both had feared: neither about the bet, nor about what the past two days were supposed to mean.

You didn’t even pursue the topic, choosing to ignore the unadulterated fear on his face that you’d seen in your hotel room.

Really, you felt almost relieved that you hadn’t had a chance to have a serious discussion—for once, you just wanted to see what would happen next. Not to mention, you had other things to worry about with Rated Riot’s performance on the next night.

But Jungkook was a spectacle of discomfort, fear, and pain.

Naturally, Sid could immediately tell that something must have happened between you because he hadn’t seen Jungkook in days and now he was looking awfully pale as he had breakfast at the hotel restaurant on the morning of the concert.

Jungkook sensed Sid’s presence. Jude was with him, but Minjun wasn’t, and he realised that he felt intimidated—challenged—when the two of them were here and there was no one on his side.

Determined to ignore them as much as possible, he concentrated on the food in front of him.

“Hey there. Been a while,” Sid said, his grin serpentine. He took a seat at Jungkook’s table, and Jude followed beside him.

Jungkook didn’t look up from his plate. “Has it?”

“I have to ask, man,” Sid continued, completely ignoring his dismissive question. “What was the point of getting so riled up about our bet the other day? It clearly seems like I might lose after all. I’m not going to lie to you, I didn’t expect that.”

Jungkook saw the smiles exchanged between the two boys through his peripherals—as if they knew something he didn’t. It wasn’t hard to guess what it was; Sid would never willingly admit defeat. He just wanted Jungkook to regain his initial motivation regarding the bet.

“I’m not talking about it,” Jungkook said. He was done. There was nothing they could say that would bring him back into this mess.

Laughing thunderously—because he knew no other way—Sid patted Jungkook on the back in what was supposed to be a friendly gesture, but Jungkook nearly dropped his plate from the force and whipped around to look at him.

“Get your hands—”

“Oh, relax, would you?” Sid interrupted with an unimpressed grin. “Look, I know you want to keep the bike. But you can only keep it if you can actually prove that you’re back together.”

“I’m not proving anything to you,” Jungkook said, enunciating every word as if he were talking to a toddler who could not understand why he was not allowed to drink the undoubtedly appetising-looking dish soap.

“Well, you have six days to change your mind, or the Katana is mine,” Sid said and received a back-handed slap on the stomach from Jude. He corrected himself irritably, “it’s ours.”

Jungkook took one last bite of his waffle, his eyes fixed on the table.

This was what the bet was about for Sid—forcing Jungkook to lose the one tangible thing he was proud to own. Jungkook knew this from the very start, on a subconscious level at least, but the more Sid brought up the bike, the more obvious it became.

Reacting to his silence, Sid leaned in and added in a cunning whisper, “six days.”

He pulled back, but still lingered with the same smug grin from before, seemingly waiting for Jungkook to say or do something.

“I have a show tonight,” was what he said. “So I can’t fuck around with you guys. But have fun.”

“We’re renting out some bikes in Tilburg for a race tomorrow,” Sid continued, not bothered by his scornful tone. “I’m sure you’ll change your mind. Check the fucking groupchat.”

Just as Sid reached out to give another strong pat on his shoulder, Jungkook surprised him by standing up and evading his touch.

He walked away without a word, his plate still full of fruit he hadn’t even looked at. He didn’t feel very hungry anymore.

As Sid watched Jungkook leave the restaurant, he had to admit that he was impressed with this resistance—there was something foreign there. In the past, if Jungkook tried to oppose him, Sid still wound up winning in the end. Always.

But now it seemed like Jungkook wasn’t going to be that easy to push over. Despite teasing him for years, only now it dawned on Sid that Jungkook must have really had feelings for you. These feelings were the reason he refused to play along. The reason he became such an insufferable bore.

Well, Sid thought with a satisfied grin, that’s his loss.

After the concert finished, you had one last night in the hotel in Amsterdam before you left for Tilburg in the morning.

Hoseok took full advantage of this and decided to organise a farewell party in his hotel room—to commemorate the “wonderful time” they had had in Amsterdam, as he told you. You didn’t dare question him out of fear that he’d actually elaborate.

Technically, he shouldn’t have had so many people in his room, but if you wouldn’t stop him—you wouldn’t—then neither would anyone else.

The hotel staff knew this was happening. They had to know. Who else brought two dozen bottles of wine, fifteen six-packs of beer, and five bottles of vodka to their hotel room? This list could have been endless; God knows what else Hoseok bought in the supermarket outside the concert hall while you were on the phone with the promoters.

But the hotel staff also knew that your team occupied the entire tenth floor, so there were no other guests who could have complained. Additionally, one of the producers – likely Namjoon, given his experience with Hoseok’s last-minute parties – paid a little extra cash for any complaints that might have come.

Even though they were musicians, the Rated Riot members – and their crew as well – knew how to leave a place as they found it. That was why you didn’t bother to protest against the party much.

You got ready for it in your own room a few doors down. Jungkook was here, too—which, honestly, surprised you.

Despite the past few days where the two of you were practically attached to each other, you still didn’t expect him to choose to hang out here while he waited for you. His usual routine before parties involved pregaming with Sid, Jude, and Minjun. You thought you saw the three of them lingering backstage after the show, but perhaps you confused them with some local knobheads.

In any case, Jungkook was here. He hadn’t bothered much with his outfit after the show. All he did was take a quick shower and change into a different shirt. The stage make-up mostly endured the one-and-a-half-hour gig and the freezing shower, so he still looked like he was about to perform instead of already having done that.

It was very easy to despise how effortlessly beautiful he was. But he was sitting on the edge of the tub in the bathroom of your hotel room, playing the new Bring Me The Horizon song for you, and telling you about his plans for Rated Riot’s performance tomorrow night while you put mascara on in front of the mirror – and you realised it was very easy to love him, too.

Just as you saw your reflection in the mirror begin to smile, you felt a familiar, unpleasant warmth under your nose. It happened quickly this time – you watched droplets of blood fall into the white sink below.

“Shit,” you muttered as you reached for a tissue on the counter across from you before you stained your clothes with blood.

Jungkook lifted his head. “What happ—shit, you’re bleeding.”

He was on his feet in a heartbeat. Before you could reassure him that this wasn’t serious, he was already guiding you to the bathtub where he sat you down in his previous spot and brought over the box of tissues.

“It’s not a big deal,” you insisted, pressing the tissue to your nose while he squatted in front of you, concern drawn all over his features. “Your legs will go numb if you—”

“How is it not a big deal?” he argued, pulling out a new tissue and handing it to you. “You’re bleeding.”

“It’s just a nosebleed,” you said, reaching for the trash can. He noticed and kicked it closer to you. He was very determined to limit your movements. “You know I used to get them all the time.”

“Yeah, years ago,” he said. “I thought we were past that.”

You refrained from commenting on his use of pronouns—as if getting nosebleeds was a group activity—but remained firm in your response.

“It’s nothing dangerous,” you said. “I got one just the other day. I’m fine.”

Jungkook wobbled a little, his legs uncertain as panic visibly grew in his eyes. “Wait, what do you—this happened before? Recently?”

“Yeah, it was literally just one—”

“Well, this is another one!” he exclaimed, jumping to his feet.

Your gaze followed him, and you instinctively leaned your head back. He noticed this and cringed into himself for making you move.

“Shit, don’t—stay still,” he said and sat down next to you on the edge of the tub. His voice was much more collected when he continued, “you’re burnt out. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I’m not burnt out,” you insisted, very uncomfortable to find yourself as the reason for someone else’s concern. “Seriously, Jungkook. This could be seasonal. Or, I don’t know, weather-related.”

“Okay. Well, the same thing happened to you six years ago and you ended up at the hospital,” he reminded you. You were worried that he would, and the mention of it immediately made you avert your gaze. “It clearly wasn’t weather-related back then.”

You switched to a fresh tissue, your eyes fixed on the white floor tiles under your feet.

That particular hospital stay, much like everything else in your relationship with Jungkook, was an untouchable subject. A subject you couldn’t discuss without discomfort and blatant contempt, no matter how many years passed.

“You were the one who called the ambulance—which I'll never forgive you for, by the way,” you said. “What a waste of everyone’s time and effort. Even the doctors said this probably wasn’t anything serious—”

“They said probably,” he retorted, agitated again. “And what else did you expect me to do?! I found you passed out in the hallway outside of your dorm.”

“You could have waited for a minute until I regained consciousness,” you said. “I would have told you—”

“That you’re fine,” he finished with a roll of his eyes. “You weren’t fine.”

“I was stressed about finals.”

“Everyone was stressed about finals,” he argued. “But not everyone put so much pressure on themselves that they started to experience fainting spells. That their body started to shut down—”

You were the one to roll your eyes this time as you cut him off, “now you’re being dramatic.”

“Am I? Really?” he countered, sliding away from you to be able to get a better look at you. You proceeded to avoid his gaze.

“Thank you for, at least, not telling my mum about it that time,” you said, diverting the topic. “I might have really killed you if you had.”

“Yeah, well.” Jungkook sniffled. “If she found out I didn’t tell her, she’d be the one to kill me.”

You weren’t worried about that. “She won’t find out.”

He looked at you. “What about this?”

“What about it?”

Frustrated, he ripped out another tissue and handed it to you. “You are literally bleeding right now.”

You took the tissue without looking up and mumbled, “the blood would have stopped if you weren’t making me anxious.”

“I’m the one making you—okay.” He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “Okay, I’m sorry. This just… this reminds me of that day.”

Your free hand fiddled with the plaster covering the outer edge of the tub. “I know.”

Six years ago, the nosebleeds had been a warning. It was your body telling you that you were exhausted and needed to rest. You’d ignored it, of course. You had finals to study for, never mind the dizziness and the brief moments of complete darkness if you stood up too quickly.

And then you ended up fainting after completing your last exam.

Really, you had almost made it back to your dorm room when you started feeling dizzy, so you were convinced that you would have been okay even if Jungkook hadn’t found you. You would have regained consciousness and made it back to your bed—it was right there. And with the Christmas holidays coming up, you would have been able to get the rest that the doctors said you needed anyway.

Jungkook had told you that he was on his way to see you when he found you on the floor. It had seemed a little too convenient, but you never got the chance to ask why he was really at your dorm that day. You’d regained full consciousness in the ambulance about a minute or two later, and the realisation of what was happening was too mortifying for you to ask about how Jungkook found you. You felt too uncomfortable to inconvenience the paramedics for something so insignificant.

Nevertheless, the doctors kept you in the hospital for three days, tethered to the bed with an IV drip. Your blood test led to the unofficial diagnosis of a simple “burnout”. You’d done your research – it wasn’t even a recognised medical condition at the time. But the hospital was on the edge of campus—the doctors had to deal with this almost every day. Your prescribed treatment included rest, fluids, and stress avoidance.

And, really, you did diligently drink water after this.

Arguments with Jungkook had kept you company in the hospital: he accused you of caring about things too much—you passed all of your finals with flying colours, so you still thought it was worth it—and you accused him of not caring enough.

Right now, however, in the hotel bathroom, as you clutched the tissue to your nose, you felt worried. Not about your condition—you knew you’d be fine in a minute—but about Jungkook’s reaction to it.

Confirming your fears, he spoke up—softly, like it was a secret that had escaped from his chest before he could control it, “I wish I didn’t remember that day as clearly as I do. You scared the shit out of me.”

“I remember, too,” you admitted. Then, to lighten the mood, you added, “I also remember that you found out you failed your Social Psychology exam the next day.”

Jungkook leaned to one side and rested his head against the wall as he remained on the other side of the tub.

“You always do this. Always focus on the wrong thing,” he spoke. His voice no longer sounded angry, only tired. “You slept for three days straight in that hospital, and you spent every waking moment scolding me for not studying.”

“Well, you really didn’t study, so—”

He inhaled deeply and the sharp sound cut you off. The song by Bring Me The Horizon looped on his phone.

“Shouldn’t you put some ice on your nose to stop the bleeding?” Jungkook said in a straining attempt to control his emotions. “Or maybe cold water—”

“It’ll probably go away on its’ own in a minute,” you said. “I’m fine.”

“Right,” he said through gritted teeth. The cursed word that you kept repeating sounded so ridiculous that he feared he might actually lose his mind. “Um, well, the last time this happened… The doctors warned us that it could happen again if you were under extreme stress. Wh-why are you stressed?”

You grabbed a new tissue, relieved to see that the bleeding had finally slowed.

“I’m not under extreme stress,” you said. “I’m just stressed. It stopped being extreme years ago.”

He didn’t think this was any better and immediately felt a new surge of anxiety in his stomach. “Okay, well, you can’t keep going like this.”

Right away, you began to reassure him again, “this is nothing—”

“You can’t keep going like this.”

“Jungkook, I’m literally just—”

“I need you,” he stated—firm and loud and desperate. “So, slow down a little. Please.”

Your eyes finally met his for a single, charged moment before you looked away again.

You felt very strange. No longer uncomfortable, but rather surprised. You thought you’d mastered the art of sounding convincing when you said you were fine, but Jungkook repeatedly proved you wrong.

“Okay,” you finally said. “I’ll—I will be careful.”

He didn’t appear very relieved when he heard this.

“Maybe we should skip the party,” he suggested, “and just—”

“Oh, no, no, no.” You stood up before he could react.  “I have you. I don’t need more people treating me like I’m sick. We’re going.”

He wanted to argue, but you were standing over him while he stayed seated, and the confidence in your posture nearly convinced him that you were truly okay.

“Alright,” he said, still tentative. “But you’re not leaving my side.”

You hummed in response and turned away to toss out the tissue.

“I mean it,” he emphasised, needing verbal confirmation from you. He knew you wouldn’t give in and let him take care of you unless he pestered you until you lost patience. “You’re staying with me the whole night.”

“Okay, okay. Relax,” you said with a forced laugh. “Is this how you feel when I micro-manage you?”

He wanted to believe the playful grin on your lips when you turned to look at him again, but it was difficult when he saw your glossy eyes. You weren’t okay, but you were determined to be.

“Not at all,” he replied, attempting to return the smile but only managing to slightly lift the corners of his mouth. “I never resist you this much.”

“Sure you don’t,” you teased, returning to the sink to wash your hands and face before you tried to fix your make-up.

Jungkook did not say anything else. The song on his phone kept playing on a loop, and neither of you bothered to change it.

But twenty minutes later, the music suddenly became overwhelming. It failed to cover up the silence between you, and you became increasingly aware of it with each passing minute.

You glanced at Jungkook’s reflection in the mirror—his shoulders slumped as he sat on the edge of the tub, staring at the floor—and you knew he was still remembering that day six years ago.

“Well,” you finally spoke, “it seems like I lost all my jewellery.”

You weren’t honestly bothered by this very much. Most of the jewellery you’d brought on this tour wasn’t particularly valuable. You just wanted to fill the silence with something other than the uncomfortable memory in his head.

“I’m sure I still had a necklace in Copenhagen—the one with the cross pendant?—but I must have left it on the bus.” You aimlessly rummaged through your accessory bag. “Or maybe I lost it at one of the venues, or somewhere else... that we went...”

You could not find the end to your sentence, nervous all of a sudden. But Jungkook raised his head to listen to you. The expression on his face was dazed as if your voice had startled him awake from a slumber he didn’t realise he had fallen into.

He placed the box of tissues on the floor and stood up.

“You can have mine,” he said, reaching behind his neck to remove his shimmering silver chain with a pearl dangling from the clasp.

“Hm?” You turned around. “Oh, I was just saying things, you don’t really have to—”

“No.” He extended his palm with the necklace. “Here.”

“Oh—”

“Actually, let me put it on you,” he asked. He gently touched your shoulder to turn you around, so you were facing the mirror again.

“Okay.” You hoped the goosebumps on your skin weren’t visible when he stopped behind you and placed the necklace around your neck. “Thank you.”

He clasped it and looked at your reflection in the mirror. There were all sorts of odd sensations coursing back and forth in his blood as he still grappled with his memories while looking at you in your all-black outfit. His silver necklace around your neck stood out against the dark colour of your blouse.

Not even realising that he was speaking out loud, he whispered, “you look beautiful.”

The lightness of his breath against your cheek made your head spin a little as you glanced at yourself in the mirror.

You didn’t have time to fix your make-up properly after the concert and then the nosebleed made your eyes water, causing your eyeliner to smudge in a particularly dramatic way. You tried to do damage control but only made it worse, so you simply gave up. You were going to a party with musicians anyway; you could have messy eye make-up and still blend in with the crowd.

“Yeah?” you teased. “A bit like a wasted panda at a punk concert, no?”

Jungkook laughed—finally—and leaned his face into your shoulder. The scent of your perfume brought back the fluttering wings in his stomach.

He exhaled and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer until your back was pressed firmly against his chest.

He placed a lingering kiss on the side of your neck, then exhaled. “That’s just my type.”

Smiling, too, you ran one of your hands over his intertwined fingers on your waist. Your other hand instinctively touched the silver chain around your neck as you watched the reflection of the two of you in the mirror. You tried to control your breathing while he closed his eyes and hummed an unintelligible melody into your ear.

“Thank you,” you said softly. “Should we—um, should we go?”

Jungkook nodded but did not move or let go of you. Another minute later, he seemed to remember something and opened his eyes.

“Oh, let me get you water first,” he said. And quickly—because you were about to object—he added, “and then we’ll go. I promise.”

You sighed and nodded, allowing him to detach himself from you.

He returned to the bathroom less than a minute later with a water bottle from the mini-fridge. After you took a sip—and then four more or he threatened to keep you in the bathroom all night—he finally felt himself exhale in a way that wasn’t completely relieving, but it was close enough.

“Alright.” You placed the water bottle on the counter next to the sink. Feeling childish, you asked, “can we go now?”

He nodded and immediately extended his hand for you to take. But as soon as he did, he realised he probably shouldn’t do that. Despite everything that had happened between you in this hotel room, he couldn’t leave while holding your hand.

It was almost comical how awkward the two of you got right after that: he acted like he hadn’t reached for you. You acted like you hadn’t seen him reach for you. He acted like he hadn’t seen you see him.

Nodding yet again before the discomfort crushed you both, Jungkook stepped aside and allowed you to leave the bathroom first.

He followed after you, nudging his piercing with his teeth and tongue as he realised that he might not be entirely fine with others not knowing about you.

He wanted to hold your hand and for people not to stare at it.

He wanted to spend the night with you, away from the party, and not have people question where you were.

He wanted to keep you safe, to be the person you turned to when you weren’t feeling well, and he wanted you not to feel guilty about it.

He wanted this to be common knowledge, something that everyone would expect from the two of you.

He wanted—actually, no.

He didn’t really care about others.

What he really wanted was for you not to care, either.

When you and Jungkook arrived at the party, there was already a large crowd there. It was very hard to breathe with so many people packed into a space that wasn’t meant to hold them all. You were starting to wish you hadn’t worn a long-sleeved shirt.

And yet, being here also felt oddly comforting—because these were your people.

As soon as you came inside, you noticed a small group of Rated Riot’s staff members gathered around Luna. Despite her usual dislike for being the centre of attention, she had a very easy-going and approachable demeanour that always put others at ease. She seemed to get along with almost everyone here—including Jimin, who was laughing at something Luna had said and patting Taehyung on the back with excessive force, which earned him a glare from the bassist.

You smiled at the scene and glanced at the window where Seokjin was leaning against the windowsill with a few other staff members. You could hear him recount how he nearly tripped over a cable while setting the stage up for tonight’s performance. He was telling the story in a way so lively that he nearly knocked over a floor lamp with his hand. On the couch next to Seokjin, Yoongi and Namjoon were sharing a pair of earphones and listening to something on Yoongi’s phone.

Despite the room being so crowded that you could hardly take a step without knocking into someone’s shoulder or back, you still felt incredibly cosy. This was also helped, of course, by the fact that Jungkook was right beside you, his fingers brushing against yours every few seconds in a deliberate accident.

You realised suddenly that another reason why you felt so comfortable here was the absence of his friends. Either they skipped this party altogether, or no one had bothered to invite them.

Puzzled, you looked at Jungkook. He returned your gaze right away and, most unfortunately, smiled at you, effectively diverting your attention from whatever you had just been wondering about.

Perhaps that was all the better. You didn’t want to talk about Sid anyway. 

“Drinks?” Jungkook suggested. Before you could respond, his eyes suddenly widened, “shit, maybe you shouldn’t drink? I can get you some water—”

“I can drink,” you insisted, although, reasonably, you probably should have abstained from alcohol. “A glass or two is fine.”

He nodded, but lingered by your side, feeling a little awkward.

Quietly, so no one would accidentally overhear, he said, “I, uh—I have to go find the drinks. Will you be okay here?”

There was an amused smile on your lips. “I promise not to pass out from longing while you’re gone.”

Jungkook gave you a wry look.

“My little comedian,” he bit. “I’ll be right back. Stay here.”

You snickered and Jungkook recoiled like he had in your bathroom—he was already leaning in to kiss your cheek when he caught himself. Nodding in realisation, he turned on his axis and headed towards the small kitchenette in the back of the room.

In the meantime, you looked back at the rest of the people here and locked eyes with Luna. She nodded at you, wordlessly inviting you to join her.

Out of everyone in the room, there were only three girls—including you. And once you approached and greeted Luna with a hug (Maggie was occupied with finishing her glass of beer before Jimin could finish his), all three of you were in the same group of people.

The lack of female crew on tour was not intentional. A lot of Rated Riot’s creative team members and some of the label’s executive producers were women—bless them—but, unfortunately, they did not travel with the band on this tour. You were happy to at least have your friends with you.

Finally, Maggie set her empty glass down on the ground and high-fived you. She wasn’t drunk enough for hugs just yet, so this was her usual way of saying hello. Then, she filled you in on their conversation: apparently, there was a stray cat outside the venue that almost everyone had the chance to pet and take pictures of, until it attacked Taehyung and scratched his pants and ankles.

This explained Jimin’s unstoppable laughter and Taehyung’s subsequent glare—and also why Taehyung was uncomfortably stomping his feet in a borrowed pair of skinny jeans.  

“As soon as Luna tried to get the cat off of him—because, you know—Taehyung wouldn’t—stop turning in circles—and—screaming,” Jimin took over the story, clearly excited about the opportunity to retell it, even though he laughed every two words, “the cat relaxed completely—and even started to purr in her arms.”

“Cats can probably tell when people like them,” you teased.

Taehyung shook his head.

“I have nothing against cats,” he insisted. “I just prefer dogs. And I wasn’t screaming.”

He directed that last part at Jimin, who suffered another wave of childish delight and made you chuckle as well, simply because of how infectious the sound of his laughter was.

“You know what the real highlight of this trip to Amsterdam was?” Taehyung said, suddenly smug. “Jimin being too short for some of the rides at Efteling.”

You recognised the name of the amusement park—it featured in a lot of messages on your groupchat with the girls—and Jimin’s laughter abruptly ceased.

“Hey!” he objected. “I decided not to go on those rides. My height had nothing to do with it.”

“After you said five times in a row how much you wanted to go on them?”

“I changed my mind.”

You, Maggie, and Luna exchanged knowing looks. Taehyung and Jimin could bicker for weeks before getting distracted by a common target – usually Namjoon, whom they teamed up to tease together.

Before you started to work with Rated Riot, you’d never met a band that was as connected to their crew as the four members of Rated Riot, who treated everyone on tour like family.

And family noticed peculiar things about each other sometimes—like how Taehyung noticed that when Jungkook joined you, he handed you a paper cup of wine and whispered something in your ear. And how you turned to him as you listened, and suddenly the necklace around your neck reflected the light from the ceiling.

Taehyung recognised the necklace.

Really, he only noticed it because earlier in the day, he had mentioned to Jungkook how pretty the pearl on the clasp was.

Without saying anything, Taehyung turned to his girlfriend. Sensing his gaze on her, Luna looked back at him. Quickly, he glanced at you, then back at her again. She understood what he wanted right away.

She observed you for a minute—you were too distracted by Maggie, Jungkook, and Jimin who forced you to referee as they argued about which of them could chug their drink faster, so you didn’t notice Luna’s staring—but she couldn’t figure out what exactly Taehyung was implying.

He had to lean in closer and whisper to her, “she’s wearing Jungkook’s necklace.”

Immediately, Luna turned back to you with a massive grin.

Finally, as you took a sip of your wine, you caught her watching you. You raised your eyebrows questioningly, but just as you did, Jungkook leaned in to tell you something else, and Luna’s grin widened while your attention wavered.

Taehyung watched this with a slight furrow in his brow. Initially, he was a little bothered by Luna’s reaction—he could tell that she knew something more about this, given her complete lack of surprise to see you and Jungkook so close. But then he thought that was fair. You two were friends. Friends had secrets that their boyfriends couldn’t know.

This worried Taehyung, however. He waited for Luna to look back at him, hoping for some reassurance—“she’s your band’s manager, this is nothing, they’re just friends like everyone else here” would have been very nice—but it didn’t come. When his girlfriend finally met his eye, all she did was smile and squeeze his hand while shaking her head.

Oh, he realised. You and Jungkook were not just friends.

Meanwhile, Jungkook informed you that Hoseok had a box of unopened champagne bottles in the bathroom—in case you wanted something other than wine.

You did. Whatever was in your cup tasted more like artificial, bitter berry juice, with only a vague hint of grape flavour, rather than wine.

So, you glanced at Luna again—she kept on grinning at you suggestively—and then allowed Jungkook to lead you, subtly enough, towards the bathroom.

Everyone in your group was already discussing something else; namely, Seokjin’s stumble before Rated Riot’s set, which was another highlight of the day. No one really paid much attention to the two of you.

But Luna and Taehyung watched you leave.

Luna had figured out what happened between you on the bus. She could imagine where you’d been for the past two days. And she knew whose accessories you’d borrowed. And if she was aware of all this, then Taehyung would find out sooner or later. He could easily deduce things just by looking at her—their minds always seemed to be on the exact same wavelength.

But while Luna was excited, viewing the situation from the perspective of your closest friend, Taehyung was nervous. His perspective was different; he was the member of the band that you managed.  

And he wasn’t sure what your disappearance into the bathroom with Jungkook was supposed to mean.

Really, what this meant for you was that you wanted a different drink. Unfortunately, you and Jungkook were challenged with the task of opening the champagne bottle quietly, because you suspected there was a reason why Hoseok chose to keep it in the bathroom. You felt better pretending he’d simply forgotten to bring it to the main room, though.

“Maybe I should close the door,” you wondered aloud, “and wait on the other side while you open it? That way, I wouldn’t actually be aiding and abetting.”

Jungkook snorted. “You’re not getting out of this. And this isn’t a crime. The champagne is here. We’re here. That means we can drink it. Do you happen to have a knife?”

You raised your eyebrows. “A knife?”

“Yeah.” He waved the bottle around, then realised and clutched it tighter as if that would prevent the sparkling drink from pouring out once the bottle opened. “I can open it faster with a knife.”

“You don’t need a knife. You just hold the cork with one hand while you rotate the bottle back and forth with your other hand,” you explained, miming the gestures. “And it pops.”

Jungkook knew that much as he removed the foil from the neck of the bottle.

“But that’s so anticlimactic,” he complained. “No dramatics, nothing. It’s boring.”

“We’re trying to keep it quiet here,” you reminded him.

“Fine, I guess,” he relented, untangling the metal cage. “We’ll do it your way.”

It took him several minutes to get a proper hold on the cork. When he finally popped it—which was louder than either of you expected—he had already shaken the bottle too much, and the champagne immediately sprayed out on both of you despite his best attempts to prevent that from happening.

He cursed, dropping the cork in surprise from the force of its recoil as champagne poured over his fingers. You were both laughing and trying to shush each other as you leapt away from the puddle forming on the bathroom floor.

“Well.” He grabbed your paper cup to catch the champagne that was pouring out. Giving you a meaningful look, he added, “this has never happened to me before.”

You pushed his shoulder at the double-entendre and made him chuckle even harder.

You knew you were making quite a lot of noise, and you’d left the door open, too, but no one came to check on the two of you. Granted, the entrance to the bathroom was inside of a small hallway near the door of the hotel room, and it was partially hidden by a large Ficus plant. You couldn’t really be seen from the inside of Hoseok’s room. But just to be safe, you avoided turning on the light and used the flashlight on your phone instead.

However, since most of the champagne had spilt on the floor and you didn’t want to return to the party in case Hoseok noticed you were drinking the sacred Bathroom Champagne, you and Jungkook had to come up with an alternative spot to hang out in.

And you did—it was easy enough to find it.

Giggling like a pair of kindergartners, the two of you climbed into the bathtub and sat down with your backs turned at the door of the room, your shoulder touching his and your knees against your chest.

The space was cramped and uncomfortable for your limbs, but every few minutes the two of you would start laughing again, and being here didn’t really feel too bad.

“This has to be,” you said as you took a sip of the drink in your cup, “the weirdest place I’ve ever had champagne.”

“This is very romantic, actually,” Jungkook disagreed. “I mean, we have candlelight.” He lifted your phone, meaning the flashlight. “We have champagne.” He clinked his paper cup against yours and then paused while you snickered. “And it’s just the two of us here. I have everything I want right in this bathtub.”

He saw you resisting and failing as an involuntary smile spread across your lips, and he felt his own expression mirroring yours.

You watched each other and listened to the music and the chatter of your friends outside the bathroom—so far away from where you were.

And then he leaned in.

It was risky—he knew that much; he could see the open bathroom door through his peripherals—and he would have stopped immediately if he sensed your hesitation or lack of consent. But you closed your eyes instead, dizzy from how close he was and how much you wanted him to be even closer.

He heard you inhale shakily and waited until you were the one to press your lips to his. He kissed you back immediately, savouring the addictive softness of your lips and tasting the bubbles on your tongue.

He was just reaching to touch your cheek when his hand slipped and he smacked his elbow into the unexpectedly sharp edge of the tub. Hissing into the kiss, he pulled away, and you had to bite your lip to keep from laughing.

“No, you’re right,” you said. “This is definitely very romantic.”

“Oh, no, this is all part of the experience,” he insisted, clutching his arm. “Why bother with romantic dinners and restaurants—honestly, why even travel to Paris, when you can have champagne and the thrill of possibly breaking a bone right in your own bathtub? The lights on The Eiffel Tower can’t compare to the millions of sparkles that I feel in my elbow right now. And this tiled wall is a delightful sight as well, especially that questionable stain right there.”

The more you laughed, the more grandiose his voice became. And when you leaned into his arm, overcome with amusement, it occurred to him that he was feeling the happiest he had felt in a very long time.

This happiness nearly overwhelmed him. And he suddenly felt very unworthy of it.

There was guilt in the back of his mind. Despite his efforts not to let it seep into his consciousness, he could still remember the bet. He felt as if he was enjoying these moments with you on borrowed time. On stolen time. On time that didn’t really belong to him.

But he couldn’t say anything.

You were tired and overworked. But here with him, you finally seemed relaxed.

And when you raised your head, gripping his arm for support, you smiled as you plotted to replace the champagne before Hoseok discovered it was gone.

The look in your eyes was warm and soft and happy, and he was going to drown in this bathtub without any water whatsoever if he didn’t kiss you again right now.

You’d asked him before if that conversation could wait.

Perhaps it could—just a little more.

Of course, you couldn’t stay in the bathroom forever. Eventually, someone would need to use it or notice you two were missing. You had to rejoin the rest of your friends as if you hadn’t just finished two bottles of champagne by yourselves (the second one opened much more easily because, despite Jungkook’s complaints, you were the one who popped the cork).

When you returned to the party, you tried to persuade Jungkook to avoid each other for a little while. Even though you promised not to leave this party without finding him first, he was still reluctant to let you out of his sight. However, he agreed to split up after locking eyes with Seokjin’s raised eyebrows.

Seokjin wasn’t suspicious. He just needed your assistance. The second you glanced at him, he grabbed you and pulled you aside to help mediate an argument he was having with Namjoon.

Jungkook lingered somewhere in the middle of the room, smiling to himself like a lunatic on his first journey to the planet Earth.

“Hey,” a voice suddenly interrupted his thoughts. Jungkook didn’t know how long he’d been standing there, but he turned to find Taehyung behind him. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

Worry was evident on his friend’s face and Jungkook instinctively looked around. Luna appeared to be fine, she was looking through something on Maggie’s camera. Tipsy, Jungkook wasn’t able to come up with another reason why Taehyung would worry.

“Uh—” he turned to his bandmate again. “Of course. What’s up?”

“Outside maybe,” Taehyung said.

Blinking because the champagne and your kisses had really slowed his mind down, Jungkook asked, “outside where? In the hallway?”

The older member shrugged, not particularly concerned about the specific location as long as it was away from everyone else. “Sure.”

Jungkook nodded, confused, but not yet alarmed. “Alright.”

He followed Taehyung out of the room and looked back once more to find you in the crowd of people. Just as you smiled at him, Taehyung shut the door with a lot more force than Jungkook thought was necessary.

The hallway was empty, except for the two of them. Jungkook arched his eyebrows and turned to look at the older boy.

“Okay, listen,” Taehyung said awkwardly. “To be honest, I don’t really know where to begin, so I’m not sure how this will go.”

He stared at the carpeted floors as he walked further away from Jungkook. The younger boy leaned his back against the wall next to Hoseok’s door.

“Take your time,” he encouraged calmly.

The peace in his voice was enough to irritate Taehyung, and he asked right away, “are you back together?”

He didn’t dare to mention you by name, but he didn’t have to. He could tell that Jungkook understood from the way his eyes lit up with something.

“No,” Jungkook replied, cautious now that he realised what this conversation was going to be about. “We’re not.”

“Look…” Taehyung started, then stopped again. Not only did he witness you both going to the bathroom together, but he also saw you emerge almost an hour later, giddy and trying very hard to pretend to be hanging out with everyone but each other. He went on, “I admit that I’m not as close to her as you are. And I don’t know the full details of your, uh—relationship. But she—neither of you look like you know what you’re doing right now. Maybe she’s too polite to say anything to you. You shouldn’t take advantage of that.”

Jungkook was surprised. Then appalled. He was expecting to maybe get scolded. He wasn’t expecting an accusation—or whatever this was supposed to be, because it certainly sounded like Taehyung was blaming him for using you.

“I don’t—I’m not taking advantage of her,” he said. “I’m not doing anything that she would—nothing that would seem like—it’s all been—”

The older boy listened to him stutter for a minute and then finally interjected.

“All I’m asking,” he said, “is if you’re serious about this. Or if you see it as a casual hook-up. Something you can get away with because we’re in Europe.”

Jungkook tightened his grip on his cup. There was still some champagne left, but he couldn’t bring himself to lift it to his lips and swallow right now, even though his throat was dry.

“It’s not a casual hook-up,” he said.

“So, you’re serious,” Taehyung concluded. His face seemed to relax a little at this—if this was serious, he would have had no problem with it. “That’s—”

“To be fair,” Jungkook cut in. “I actually—I don’t know what we are.”

The older boy frowned again. “How can you not know?”

“We haven’t—we didn’t talk about it.”

Taehyung pressed his index finger to his forehead in a sign of growing frustration. It wasn’t a scratch or a rub, he just touched a spot there—as if pressing the ‘off’ button—and took a breath.

“Jungkook,” he said, unsettling the younger boy with his tranquil tone. “You can do your thing. That’s fine because you’re still really good at your job. It’s all great. But whatever the two of you are? Whatever you haven’t talked about? That could affect all of us. The whole band. Not just the band, actually, but everyone in that room.”

He pointed at Hoseok’s door as he spoke. The gesture was unnecessary, yet it amplified the significance of his words. Jungkook already felt like a rock had started to weigh him down the second Taehyung mentioned you. Not to mention, he couldn’t find a proper way to defend himself as the bassist seemed to think that he was just playing with you.

Struggling, Jungkook tried to clarify, “I’m not—okay, look, you can’t—no one can—”

“I won’t tell anyone,” Taehyung said, somehow understanding his primary concern. “I’m just talking to you. Or asking, actually. What are you doing?”

“I-I—okay.” Jungkook closed his eyes for a second. He felt like he had to tell him everything right here and now. There was no other way to answer his questions, after all. And, to be fair, Jungkook was a little concerned that Taehyung would approach you about this if he found his answers unsatisfactory. “There’s, uh... something else. But you absolutely cannot mention this to anyone.”

“Alright. What is it?”

“I made a bet with Sid,” Jungkook said. “And Jude.”

Cautious, Taehyung asked, “a bet? What kind of bet?”

Jungkook inhaled deeply and stole a glimpse at his friend before looking down again. “About me and—okay, before you react—because I can tell that you’re seething—”

Taehyung shook his head at the interjection. He couldn’t control his reactions and he didn’t bother trying.

“Just tell me what the bet is about,” he said. It sounded like an order—which, coming from Taehyung, also sounded like a threat.

“They said I couldn’t get back together with her,” Jungkook said.

He didn’t finish, but he didn’t really need to say anything else. Taehyung put the pieces together in his mind.

He concluded, “and you said you would.”

Jungkook crossed his arms over his chest. “Right.”

“Mmhmm.” The veins on Taehyung’s neck protruded dangerously as he looked around the hallway before fixing his gaze on Jungkook again. “And?”

“A-and I tried to get out of this,” Jungkook said, “but I can’t.”

“Why not?” Taehyung questioned. “What do you lose if you don’t win the bet?”

“The Katana. But that’s not—”

The older member widened his eyes in evident disbelief. “You’re scared to lose your motorcycle?!”

The way he said it was as if “motorcycle” was a synonym for a “used napkin.” Jungkook felt himself shrink into the wall.

“No, that’s what I’m saying—I’m—I mean, I don’t want to lose it, because this makes no sense, it’s just a stupid bet,” he tried to explain, tripping over his words. He wasn’t sure if he was making any sense—judging from Taehyung’s expression, he wasn’t—but he still added, “but what I’m really scared to lose is her.”

“So, you’re back together?” Taehyung clarified.

“No.”

The older boy paused, trying very hard to comprehend and rationalise this as his mind refused to grasp the nonsensical information.

“And, of course, she doesn’t know about the bet?” he asked again.

Jungkook felt like a failing student. “One condition of the bet was that we wouldn’t tell her.”

“There were conditions to this bet,” Taehyung said with a sarcastic laugh. “Of course.”

Jungkook clenched his jaw. He had thought that things weren’t going well for him, considering his incessant doubts and fears. But now, in retrospect, he realised that he had managed to live in denial quite successfully until now.

“Yeah, so—” he started to say, but Taehyung cut him off by lifting his hand as he still struggled to make sense of this mess.

“And why does Sid even want your bike?” the older member asked. “Doesn’t he have money pouring out of his ears?”

He had a valid point, of course, but Jungkook was already feeling very uncomfortable, so he mumbled childishly, “I don’t know.”

“Hmm. Well, let me make a wild guess here,” Taehyung said before he made a very accurate guess. “He knows it’s important to you. That’s the only reason why he wants it.”

Jungkook gritted his teeth. “Mmhmm. Probably.”

With his hands on his hips in a hopeless attempt to remain calm, Taehyung asked, “do you have a time limit for this exciting bet? Or will it continue until the tour ends?”

“No, it’s—two weeks,” Jungkook replied, avoiding his friend’s eyes. “I have about six days left.”

“Right. Six days left,” Taehyung repeated with a certain derision that made Jungkook tighten his grip around himself.

He was aware of the hole he’d dug for himself, and he was also aware that he had willingly jumped into it. But seeing Taehyung’s almost hostile stance scared him a little. If his friend reacted like this, how would you react?

Hesitantly, Jungkook admitted, “I, uh—to be honest, I don’t know what to do.”

Taehyung blinked at him like he’d never heard a more ignorant thing in his whole life.

“I see,” he said with relative serenity, considering all that he was about to unleash on the younger member. “I don’t know who dropped you on your head when you were a baby, but you’re acting like a complete fucking idiot right now. What the hell do you mean, you don’t know what to do?! You tell her about the fucking bet, that’s what you do!”

If there was one distinct thing about Taehyung—besides his fashion taste and the way cats tended to dislike him for some reason—it was that he didn’t curse. This was odd for a rock musician perhaps, but Jungkook winced at the swear words, even more so when the echo reverberated through the empty hallway.

In a panicked tone, he said, “okay, don’t yell—”

“How can I not yell when you’re about to—okay,” Taehyung stopped. He didn’t yell a lot, either, unless the situation called for it. And this one did very much call for it. But he knew that you were in the room right behind this door. You didn’t know about the bet, and this wasn’t the way you should have found out about it.

Taehyung took a breath and then spoke up in a more composed manner, “it’s one thing to sabotage the whole band. But her feelings are a completely different matter. You’re going to hurt her.”

Somehow, Jungkook seemed to lean even more heavily against the wall—as if it could absorb him if he concentrated hard enough.

“I’m—I don’t want that,” he said, the words catching in his throat. “I’m not trying to do that.”

“You have to tell her. I don’t know what else to say to you,” Taehyung finished. “You have to tell her before the time for your bet is up.”

Jungkook was quiet. He’d made the bet over a week ago, but now was the first time he found himself truly dreading the potential consequences of his decision. Now was the first time these consequences felt so real, so inevitable.

And the longer he wasted time not telling you about it—despite convincing himself that he should, that there was no other way—the more terrified he became to lose all that he had built with you. All that he had rebuilt. Especially during the past few days in Amsterdam.

Taehyung suddenly broke the silence by adding, “or I will.”

Jungkook raised his head. “What?”

“You tell her,” Taehyung said, “or I will.”

“I just asked you to—fuck.” The younger member pushed himself off the wall and turned to face it so he wouldn’t have to look at Taehyung. “I know that I have to—fuck. Fuck. Okay, I just—I’ll tell her.”

Softer now, because Jungkook’s decision was laced with unmistakable fear and pain, Taehyung said, “she deserves to know. You can’t play with people like that.”

“I know.” Jungkook kept his forehead pressed against the wall as he stared at the carpet. “This wasn’t supposed to get serious.”

Taehyung couldn’t help scoffing.

“Be reasonable,” he said. “How could it not get serious? You made a bet out of your relationship.”

“Technically, I made a bet out of going on a date with her,” Jungkook explained, but even he could tell that this was hardly better. He squeezed his eyes shut. “Those assholes wouldn’t let me off. They forced me into this—”

“Forced you into it?” Taehyung cut him off, mocking. “An adult who has legs and can stand up and just fucking leave? How exactly did they force you?”

Cringing again, Jungkook raised his head just so he could shake it.

“You don’t get it,” he said. Sighing, he turned around to look at Taehyung. “You’ve never—”

“I do get it,” he disagreed, taking a step closer and pointing a finger at Jungkook. Everything about his posture indicated that this wasn’t a concerned warning anymore. Now it really was a threat. “You made a mistake. Fix it.”

As soon as Jungkook lowered his eyes in miserable defeat, Taehyung pulled back and returned to the door. He gave Jungkook one more look before opening it and walking inside.

Jungkook simmered in self-hate—and a dash of self-pity—for another minute as he finished his champagne. It had been sitting in his cup for too long, and tasted dry and stale and nothing like you.

He wondered in a brief moment of intense despair, if this was how he would always feel once he lost you.

The unpleasant taste still lingered in his mouth when he went back inside. It only seemed to get worse when he noticed you on the armrest of the couch next to the rest of his bandmates.

For the first time in Jungkook’s life, the sight of your smile when you saw him didn’t excite him. It didn’t draw him closer.

It was the reason he stopped breathing. The reason he looked away and walked in the opposite direction.

He’d tell you. He’d have to.

But not tonight. Not in Amsterdam.

He wanted to have one good memory before he tore it all down.

chapter title credits: bad omens, “the death of peace of mind”

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[megalony]

Soft Spot- Part 2

This is the next art of my new dark! Mob! Chris Evans series, I hope you will all like it, feedback would be lovely.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @rogmeddows @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez-blog @jonesyaddiction @milanosaurus @httpfandxms @saint-hardy @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls @mrsalwayswritex @rogerina-owns-me  @hellsdragon @im-an-adult-ish @crazylittlethingg @allauraleigh @onceuponadetectivedemigod @ceres27 @avyannadawn  @noonenuts​ @sleepylunarwolf @coverupps​

Masterlist

Summary: Chris has his hands full with his club, his boys and his wife who he dotes on. Things get harder when (Y/n)’s pregnant but she’s barely gotten over losing their little girl.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(Y/n) felt like stomping her foot on the ground to make the automatic doors register her presence and open to her like the gates of Hell opening up. It wasn't as if she was too light for the sensor to register her and she was stood as close as possible but the doors to the gym were on their last legs. Chris was havnig them replaced next week, finally.

When the doors finally opened, (Y/n) was hit like a wave of that smell which lingered with her wherever she went. It smelt of bleach and metal and if she took a big deep breath, sometimes Chris's smell wafted in through the air too.

She dragged her feet through to reception and tried to keep a straight, tall composure but it was getting hard. Her body felt like it needed to collapse, her legs were hard as stone and her arms were barely able to move at her sides. She had felt too unwell to drive today and was thankful the gym was only a fifteen minute walk from their home.

Scanning her fingers through her pockets, (Y/n) tried to find her keycard. Only Chris, (Y/n) and Sebastian had the master keycards that opened every and any door in the gym, even the 'dark room' where people got put back in line and sometimes fights happened under the radar.

Her hands moved to her bag hanging on her shoulder to scan through for her keycard but nothing was going her way. Her purse rattled around in her bag, her pack of paracetamol clinked against the few mints and sweets she had in there for the boys and her keys jumped like they were wild frogs. She would have to rampage through her bag to find her key and she just didn't have the energy for that.

She wanted to scream. (Y/n) wanted to scream and shout and collapse down on her knees until Chris came and found her. But all she could do was stand and stare at the desk in front of her. There were three people in reception hanging around like they were having a casual chat which wasn’t the most normal sight in the club but their conversations died out immediately when their eyes landed on (Y/n).

"Jack, buzz me through please." (Y/n) leaned her arm on the reception desk and tried to smile at the older man sitting behind the desk before she glanced at the two men stood near the door.

They were trying to smile at her but they couldn't seem to be able to. Usually everyone was cool and calm around her, they flocked to talk to her and make sure she was alright because having a conversation with Chris was hard. He was the boss, anything they said or did was noted and remembered and it made people anxious. The only person who could joke with Chris and not fear the consequences, was Sebastian.

"Yeah, um... (Y/n)..."

Jack lifted his hand and slowly pointed to his nose as his smile faded and a look of concern washed over him.

(Y/n) felt a flash of worry in her stomach and she swiped her hand beneath her nose to find she was having a nosebleed.

Great. That was just what she needed today.

"Here," Dean, who had been standing by the door, swiftly held out a hankerchief which (Y/n) took gratefully.

The sound of the door buzzing made relief bubble in her chest and (Y/n) nodded at the men before she tried to hurry through the doors but she didn't feel well. She hadn't eaten anything for about two days which was making her feel limp and lifeless. All she did was throw up when she ate anything, no matter what time of day it was so she had decided abstenance was going to be her friend for the next day or two. Even water was coming back up with vengence. And now with blood gushing through the handkerchief and onto her fingers, her head was feeling woozy.

She could barely see to walk past the equipment room and trudge down to the corridor at the back. (Y/n) let most of her weight lean on the wall and she shuffled down until she reached Chris's office.

There was no energy left in (Y/n) to try and look through her bag for the key to the office. She let herself slide down until she was sat on the floor and her forehead rested against the office door with the hankerchief glued to her nose and mouth.

(Y/n) didn't know how long she sat there for. It may have been a few seconds, it could have been half an hour, she wasn't sure. All she knew was she must have blacked out because when she opened her eyes, the blood on her hand was dried and crusted and she had started to sweat. The door was as cold as ice and it felt soothing against her burning skin so she leaned her head on it a little more before her eyes fell closed again.

"Shit!"

A tremor of fear trickled down Sebastian's spine when he turned the corner and glanced down the corridor. He could feel a hand clenching round his lungs when he realised it was (Y/n) slumped on the floor with blood on her hands.

Oh God, what had happened to her? Why hadn't anyone seen her or come to get him or Chris?

Chris was going to hit the roof when he came here.

Sebastian jogged down the corridor and crouched in front of (Y/n). He was careful when he reached over and gently cupped (Y/n)'s face in his hands so he could turn her head to face him. The relief he felt almost knocked him off balance when he realised she had had a nose bleed. As long as no one had tried to punch or attack her and nothing was wrong with the baby, then this wouldn't be too bad. He could call Chris without fearing that his boss would hit the roof or explode.

One time Sebastian had seen someone smack (Y/n)'s bum when she passed and safe to say, Chris broke the man's wrist. He didn't know what Chris would do if someone dared to punch or frisk or attack (Y/n). He would likely murder someone for doing that to his wife.

"Hey, (Y/n), you with me?"

Moving his hand, Sebastian pressed the back of his hand against her temple before he sighed and pursed his lips. She had a fever.

It took a lot of effort for (Y/n) to try and move and in the end she gave up, settling for resting her hand on Sebastian's wrist to acknowledge him. It was hard enough keeping her eyes on him, let alone trying to move from where she was uncomfortably tucked into the corner of the doorway.

Fumbling around on his trousers, he grabbed the small radio clipped onto his belt. It was easier to contact everyone around the gym on a radio than trying to search for them or ring them. Every worker had one.

"Chris, can you come to the office, (Y/n)'s here." Sebastian was the only one who was allowed to call Chris by his name. Everyone else who worked for him was demoted to calling him 'boss' or 'sir'. And he couldn't go telling everyone on the radio what state (Y/n) was in, he didn't want everyone flocking down to see what was going on. It wouldn't be fair on her.

"What have you been doing?" He muttered quietly to himself before he took the hankerchief from her hand and tried to wipe beneath her nose and mouth. The less blood Chris saw, the calmer he would be when he got here.

"Seb... what're you doing?"

Chris's head tipped at an odd angle and his shoulders hunched up and tensed as he walked slowly down the corridor. He didn't like the look of his right-hand man crouched down on the floor, hiding (Y/n) from sight. He brushed his hands over his trousers to try and smudge some of the blood from his hands but he could feel the dried blood caked beneath his fingernails and he couldn't scrub his knuckles well, lest he wanted to scrub off the scabs starting to form. Chris knew his wife hated to see blood on his hands so he always washed up before he saw her.

If he knew she was coming to the club this early he would have washed up way before now.

When he got up close to the pair of them, he could feel his blood running cold and tingling down to his fingertips. (Y/n), his precious girl, was curled up on the floor like she was cowering away from them. Her eyes were barely open, streaks of blood were smeared across her nose and down her lips and chin and he could see the blood on her hands. And the bloody hankerchief Sebastian was gripping like it was his lifeline.

Why was his wife barely conscious on the floor, smeared in blood? How had she got this far and no one had noticed or told him?

"What the fuck happened to her?"

"I don't know, she was here when I came down."

When Sebastian shuffled back, Chris went down on his knees and cupped (Y/n)'s face so she was looking at him. He saw the moment she realised he was there because her eyes seemed to brighten and a lopsided smile graced her red lips and the look made his heart jump.

"Baby, baby look at me. What happened?" Chris's voice was oddly gentle and soft around the edges like he was slowly melting on the inside from loving her. But he couldn't quite hide the concern from reaching his hardened features, he wanted to know what happened and he wanted to make sure if someone hurt her, they would pay for it.

"I had a nosebleed," (Y/n) could feel her senses slowly coming back to her now and with Chris's fingers splayed across her neck and his thumbs slowly rubbing over her cheeks, she felt like she was waking up from anaesthetic.

"No one's hurt you, then?"

"No, baby. I- I think I blacked out though,"

She couldn't help but smile. The concern was evident in his eyes and the wary tone of his voice and it made (Y/n)'s heart skip a beat. She hadn't meant to scare him or any of the workers but she didn't want to stay home alone when she felt unwell. The best place to be was with Chris but she also didn't want to interrupt when he was working and if he thought she hadn't noticed the blood on his hands, he was mistaken.

"You've got a fever babygirl. Come on, let's get you sat in the office."

Moving his hands, Chris wrapped his arms around (Y/n)'s waist and quietly counted to three before he stood up and pulled her to her feet. The way (Y/n) lazily smiled up at him and rubbed her hands over his shoulders made him playfully roll his eyes and sigh.

"Hi," She whispered quietly into his neck, muttering a quiet 'oh' when her legs wobbled and her weight fell onto his chest. It was a good job he had been expecting it, he took all her weight in his arms without faltering or stumbling back. And he kept her leaned against his chest with one arm so his other hand could cradle the back of her head while Sebastian unlocked the office door.

"Come on," He muttered quietly against her hair as he guided her into the office but after a few steps, Chris gave up.

He moved his arms once again and effortlessly scooped (Y/n) up like she was one of the boys he was carrying to bed. He felt her squeak of surprise against his neck but she made no protest. She looped her arms around his neck and let him carry her through to the sofa, surprised when Chris sat down and perched her on his lap.

"It's a good job we're going to the hospital today," He whispered the words quietly in her ear as he sat back and slouched against the sofa, letting (Y/n) lean back into his chest.

They were going to the hospital for a scan today and Chris couldn't be more relieved. He needed to tell the midwife (Y/n) wasn't eating and was barely drinking anything because she kept being sick. She couldn't keep carrying on like this without any help, they needed a doctor's advice and someone to look her over and make sure she was okay. As much as Chris loved having (Y/n) at the office, he couldn't have her turning up and blacking out when she got here, it was too dangerous.

What if the next time she felt ill she didn't make it to the gym and she collapsed in the street?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A fond look washed over Chris's face and he couldn't help the smile that broke out on his lips when he glanced across at his girl. For the past few minutes, he had felt (Y/n) brushing her fingers across his bruised knuckles but now she had his hand held up to her face so she could kiss his knuckles.

With how many fights he got into, his hands scarcely managed to heal before the old wounds were cut open again and his hands were usually always large and swollen. His knuckles and the back of his hands were discoloured with red and white streaks across them from scars that were continuously re-opened.

"How do you feel?" He asked quietly before he scuffed his chair a bit closer to the bed she was lying on.

"Better," Both of them knew it was a lie and (Y/n) knew better than to lie to Chris when he could always tell, but he dropped the matter and stayed quiet with a small smile gracing his lips.

He knew she wasn't feeling better. Her temperature had gone down a bit but she was still pale and looked sickly. Deep down, Chris had an unsettling feeling that (Y/n) was going to be admitted to the hospital and if that happened, he would need all the strength and help he could get.

He knew (Y/n) wouldn't stay here without him.

After losing Evelyn, (Y/n) hadn't been eating or drinking and got admitted to hospital. Chris had left her on the ward for all of two hours before the hospital nurse had rang him, begging for him to come back because (Y/n) had ripped out her IV, almost hit a nurse and tried to leave without being discharged. He had to fight with her to get her back in bed and wait for someone to sedate her so she could rest.

"Good afternoon Mrs Evans, how are you today?" (Y/n) sat up a bit straighter and forced a smile when the midwife walked in.

"I'm okay-"

"Baby," There was a warning tone to Chris's deep voice that made (Y/n) wince and when she dared to look over at him, the smile had fallen from his lips and his brows were raised. She could be on death's door sick to her stomach and she would still try and convince everyone she was fine. It was something that always upset Chris, no matter how ill (Y/n) was she never wanted to make a fuss or have people worry about her. But she couldn't always act like she was fine when she really wasn't.

"I haven't been feeling so good today,"

A groan left his lips and he hung his head in his hands, scraping his fingers over his beard before he dared to look up at the midwife standing across the bed from him.

"She's not been eating properly for over a week and she blacked out this morning after a nosebleed. You're not fine."

"Okay, when was the last time you ate and managed to keep it down?"

(Y/n) slowly spun the ring round on Chris's finger that seemed to have stollen her attention for the meantime. When she dared to look at Chris who was looking the other way, she felt a shiver creeping up her neck. He wasn't going to be happy when he found out she had lied to him.

"I- I haven't kept anything down so I haven't really eaten for nearly three days, I guess."

She could feel the way Chris tightened his hand around hers until she could barely feel her fingers anymore. His head snapped to look at her and a gleam crossed his eyes.

"What about fluids?"

"Water won't even stay down,"

"I'll need to take some blood for testing but if you can't keep any fluids down, I'd like to admit you to hospital. You'll need an IV of nutrients and some anti-sickness medication. Let's take a look at little one first though."

(Y/n)'s hands started to shake but she tried her best to steady them as she rolled up her shirt to expose her stomach. She was only just over three months along so her stomach wasn't shaped or round yet but she couldn't wait for it to be.

When her eyes darted over to Chris, for a dreaded moment (Y/n) thought he was going to walk out when he rose to his feet. Her mind raced, panicking that she had riled him up by not telling him how bad she had been feeling, but she felt her heart jump when he moved closer instead of away. He stood by the side of the bed, one arm sneaking around her shoulders while his other hand held hers again.

The look in his eyes told her they would be talking about this later, but for now he was still excited. It didn't matter that this was their fourth pregnancy, it always felt like the first and Chris had gathered a collection of scan photos in his top bedside drawer.

"Alrighty, if you look at the screen here," the midwife turned the monitor towards the couple before she began to point. "Oh, congratulations are in order. There's baby A, and there's baby B."

(Y/n) could feel the shudder that rattled through Chris before tremoring through her too.

Twins.

Two babies to feed during the night and watch over and change and settle when they cried bloody murder. Two children to try and decifer and get confused. What if they got muddled which was which?

Two chances of losing a baby. Two babies at the same time was harder than looking after one. (Y/n) could miss any telltale signs that one of them wasn't okay and she could lose another child. nothing had been wrong with Evelyn until she stopped breathing. The last time (Y/n) held her, she had been cold and heavy, an awful weight in (Y/n)'s arms when she didn't wriggle or whimper or blow raspberries.

She couldn't lose another baby- she couldn't lose two more babies.

(Y/n) didn't realise she'd been holding her breath until she felt Chris kissing her temple whispering 'breathe' against her flushed skin. His arm moved to rest across her chest and she clung tightly to his arm, digging her nails into his skin to try and ground herself to him as she sat forward.

"The boys will be happy," Chris kissed the top of (Y/n)'s head, smiling to himself when she nuzzled up against his bicep. He could practically hear her worries floating around in his head and despite his own worries and concerns, his excitement was overriding everything else.

Two more babies.

He couldn't think of anything better and he couldn't dare to think of the few worries in his head. He couldn't think of how (Y/n) might panic or lose her senses when she had two babies to worry about losing because what happened to Evelyn was a one in a million chance. If they tried to think and feel the same emotions they had with the boys, if they focused on their babies and didn't think too much of Evelyn, it would be alright.

Chris couldn't dare think what would happen if they had a girl or two girls. He didn't want to imagine replacing Evelyn or having two girls and either worry about losing them or feel cheated if they didn't and wonder why only Evelyn had to die. He couldn't even dare to think about another baby girl in his arms or the fact that he'd always wanted a little princess to spoil.

They would cross that bridge in two months when they found out what they were having.

"(Y/n), I'd like to take some blood now, then I'll made a few calls so you can be admitted to the ward."

(Y/n) didn't have the will or the energy to fight it. She might not have to stay overnight or more than one night and they were already in the maternity unit of the hospital so she wouldn't have far to go. Right now, her head was spinning and her skin was prickling with heat and all she wanted to do was sleep.

She waited for the midwife to go retrieve a vile and needle before she held her arm out. Her eyes closed and she buried her face deeper into Chris's bicep. She didn't like needles.

Chris on the other hand, was fascinated with them. Blood and gore was his speciality, he could skillfully slice someone open and knew where would inflict the most pain. He could cut someone from their elbow vertically down to their wrist and know it was the quickest way for them to bleed out and die. His eyes watched in curiosity as a band was strapped tight around (Y/n)'s upper arm before the needle was punctured into the crease of her elbow.

The midwife took to viles of blood which she labelled and set in a basket on her desk before she turned back to face them.

"If you could wait back in the waiting room, someone will come and direct you when I've let the doctor know."

"Thank you,"

(Y/n) could feel her hands shaking when she cleaned her stomach. Taking blood always made her woozy and with how uneasy she felt already, now she felt horrid. Her head was swimming, she couldn't feel her fingers or even her hands anymore and she realised that she was trembling.

"Baby, are you alright?"

Chris held his hands out to steady (Y/n) when she stood on wobbling legs and seemed to stop. Her eyes had a faraway look like she was looking into a whole other world but he didn't like the way she was shaking and the colour seemed to drain from her completely. He had been with her the first time she had her bloods done and she threw up and passed out at the same time. Every time after that she either went lightheaded or she had to lie down because it made her feel sick.

Everything started to spin.

"Help," Just as the word spluttered past her chapped lips, (Y/n) felt the room turn on its axis and she suddenly became weightless.

Chris groaned when (Y/n)'s head bashed into his shoulder and momentairely jarred his arm before he tried to gain back composure. He locked his arms around her hips and pulled her into his lower abdomen before she had chance to hit the ground. He couldn't have her hurting herself, not when she was weakened and rather ill already.

Spinning (Y/n) around, Chris hoisted her up bridal style, making sure her head was on his shoulder and not hanging back so she didn't hurt her neck.

"Lay her back on the bed,"

He did as he was told and slowly eased (Y/n) back down on the bed before he held her hand and gently carded his fingers through her hair. His eyes watched the midwife intently as she checked (Y/n)'s pulse and placed a thermometer between her lips.

"She's got a high temperature, I'll go get her admitted on a ward."

"Oh baby, what am I gonna do with you?"

[moondane-lovers]

SELFSHIPTOBER 2024 - DAY 1

confession  |  night. -Spandam

Spandam tries to explain something to Pluto about the way they treat him. Pluto mourns the loss of a visual nighttime on Enies Lobby.

CW for momentary ideation mention, very brief.

He was surprised to see her up on the roof at this hour, but why? She was the type to hide in her quarters all night long and reappear for her shift. Then again…

Spandam fiddled with the collar of his shirt, breaking into a light sweat. He was not ready for this, this was a cruel and unusual punishment, as though dealing with Jabra’s incessant prodding was enough! He was at the point where speaking to her alone was not something he was capable of without stumbling over his words, as well as his- his feet. Oh, it was happening again.

He had just tripped over his own feet and fell facedown onto the hard stone flooring of the roof, inches away from having a tumble down the stairs as a cruel bonus. He could feel a nosebleed coming on and impact aches were setting in fast.

“Oh uh- Security Chief!! You okay? Hold on, I'm coming!” He was doomed, they had heard him fall and was hurrying over to give him a hand, her voice filled with genuine concern. Genuine... ah yes, that was what bothered him so much.

The next few minutes were a blur as Spandam found himself riding out a nosebleed with a tissue stuffed up his nose, staring up at the bright sky with a janitor next to him. He was semi-paralyzed due to his proximity to them, barely able to force the words out.

“S-so…” Spandam stuttered.

“Huh?” 

“What were you doing up here so late, hm? Something to- to hide perhaps?!” 

He would always do this, throw an accusation or project something silly onto Pluto to get out of navigating a proper conversation with them. He couldn’t handle it, it was too much for his… emotions? Something horrifying like that. It was routine for her answers to be reasonable, just like her calm handling of his unique behavior.

“No, nothing like that, I’d rather not risk my life that way. I couldn’t sleep and I missed the night sky so… I guess that’s why I come up here.” She looked up, exhaustion evident. 

“Eh?” He tilted his head, the gears turning in his mind. 

“Theres- the sky is bright at all hours no matter what you do! What does coming up here do to… to change how you feel?!” He crossed his arms, trying to appear as if he didn’t care. 

“I don’t know. It’s just… surreal that past a certain distance, the sun stops defying logic and there’s a transitional wall of false day and true night.” They shrugged. “You?”

He let out a squeak and went rigid, trying to find an acceptable answer while processing the strangeness she was spouting. “I-I was just getting some fresh air!” He wasn’t lying, making his panic even dumber.

“Ah, cool.”

“…yes.” 

An awkward silence followed as they stared up at the sky for a few minutes. Then, there was a little something trying to force its way out of his throat and into the open. 

“I er… would like to say that I appreciate your dedication to your duties with…” He trailed off, gripping the railing. 

“Oh, thanks, whatever it is. I try.” Pluto’s slight smile and surprised acknowledgment of praise only made him more anxious. 

“With… your… t-tolerance of my…” He looked like he was about to pass out. “M-my… recurring mishaps.” He exhaled.

“Why wouldn’t I? We’re both people, getting hurt is a painful experience and everyone deserves support when-” Pluto had blinked and he had vanished, bolting off with a quick “wellihavetogetbacktomyreports!” before she could finish speaking. 

Alone again, she returned to staring up at the endless daylight, questioning if it was all worth it.

Thankfully, Spandam did not trip on his way down the stairs this time.

[hellyesbro]

since you're getting nosebleed pic asks already i dont feel as awkward saying this but when you posted that my first thought was 'ah yes power is in fact my coolest mutual'

ehehehe like. Its crazy I walked away from that fight adrenalined out of my mind and then had the most INSANE moodswings of my life when I came back down but now I'm kind of a (more paranoid) baseline as in I feel normal at home and noided outside but I used to feel noided outside all the time so I'm also stoned as hell because I've been smoking less weed so I forgot my tolerance is waaaayyy lower but its 2am so thats like, fun instead of stressful.Oh yeah I was saying I'm noided as fuck when I'm outside but I used to be SUPER noided as a teen bc dudes were like. always sexually harassing me. So its something i'm well aware I can heal from so I'm kind of zen about that. I owe my roommate like 5 dollars because I accidentally made her butane can explode everywhere like 20 times because I'm dumb as rocks and forgot how to refill a butane lighter. you gotta press the nozzle in like CRAZY hard. SO at first I was convinced her lighter was just broken, so I went to the illegal corner weed store (philadelphia is a wonderful place, there are many stores like this but most are subtle abt it. These guys are SO open about it and they get shut down and reopen like every other week) to get a new lighter and it looks like a grenade (I'll edit this post on app and add a vid later, too lazy to upload this to my pc (i'm on my pc because im dumb as rocks and couldnt figure out how to privately answer asks on mobile so I thought I could figure it out on pc but I still cant)) and used that to operate my roommates dab rig and smoke my other roommates dabs. I wasn't stealing I asked permission. I used to steal a lot but theyd always get pissed off which was jarring to me because I've only ever lived with partners so I'm really used to just us stealing shit from eachother and nobody bats an eye except we called it "sharing". but then it ran out of butane and I couldnt get it refilled either and I went full panic mode and wasted a fuckload and then i suddenly remembered how to refill it correctly so I refilled both lighters and they both worked so I did not need to spend $8 on a novelty lighter but the girl at the register was cuuuuuuute, Also we got snax on the way home at this super cheap corner store that also illegally sells weed and loosies so we got 24oz bottles of soda for $1.25 each and they have 75 cent plastic wrapped pastries and 99c cotton candy its fucking junk food heaven im incapable of gaining weight but my teeth want to kill me and i think im at risk for developing diabetes (dw im like really happy these days) but I digress. Thanks for checking in!!!!

[xf-cases-solved]

S1E10: Fallen Angel

Case: A meteor crashes outside of Townsend, Wisconsin. Or maybe it was a downed Libyan fighter jet. Or maaaaybe it was a... dun dun... UFO? (It was a UFO)(Probably) Mulder goes to investigate without clearance, a plan, or his partner/carrier of his only brain cell, and ends up captured, leading to Scully picking him up from jail for the second time in five episodes. Before that, though, he meets Max—a nomadic UFO fanatic who may be suffering from psychosis or possibly the effects of being repeatedly abducted without his knowledge, and is the only part of this episode I care about. Mulder wants to prove the crash was a UFO before the government erases all the evidence, meanwhile Scully wants desperately for Mulder not to lose his fucking job. Will things all work out in the end? (no) Will they get the answers they seek? (also no) And will the audience be any closer to unraveling the mystery being spun? (absolutely not)

Does someone die in the cold open: Yes. All we see, as the man screams in agony while losing his life, is a giant flash of light, leaving me to assume that he was killed by the LED headlights on some asshole's pickup truck.

Does Mulder present a slideshow: No, this was one of those "my informant sent me here with very little context and I kind of just do whatever I'm told bc at this point I'm desperate for any crumb of information" episodes.

Does the evidence survive the investigation: There never was any evidence, and if you don't want to be sent to the reeducation center in Area 51 you'll agree with me.

Whodunit: -vague gesturing toward the government or mb aliens-

Convictions: I'm pretty sure Mulder had to have broken at least a couple laws, not just Bureau policy, and technically he was arrested, but afaik he wasn't charged with anything, so. Nah.

Did they solve it: No, but they leveled up in experience points and added Max to their inventory.

[how do i determine if a case is solved? check the scale here: x]

THIS EPISODE IS SPONSORED BY: Fisheye lenses. Is your character having supernatural flashbacks, being chased by an invisible alien, and/or is maybe having a psychotic break? Are you filming from the perspective of A Creature? Do you need to indicate that things are Wonky and Weird but it's the 90s and you're on a first season budget? Look no further than fisheye lenses!

***

General Total Stats:

(green means stat has changed since last ep; red means new stat added to list)

Total Cases *Definitively* Solved So Far: 3

Total Number of "Mulder/Scully, it's me" phone calls: 1

Total Number of Times Scully Has Conveniently Not Seen Something Crucial: 4 (in her defense, i was barely watching either)

Total Number of Times Mulder Has Been in Mortal Danger: 2 (not upping the stat because i don't think they ever really planned to kill him, and the fisheyed alien ghost wanted Max, not him)

Total Number of Times Scully Has Been in Mortal Danger: 3

Total Number of Sexually Charged and/or Flirty Moments Between Friendly Coworkers: 5 (Scully was too gd annoyed with Mulder to do any flirting)

Total Number of Autopsies Scully Has Performed On Screen: 1 (though she did get to play doctor—in a literal way, not sexy roleplay way—and that's always fun. maybe i'll make that a stat)

Total Number of Times Scully Plays Doctor: 1 (if i missed any before this episode, no i didn't)

Total Number of Times Mulder Talks to an Informant: 5 (though it was technically a flashback, but it was a flashback to something we'd never seen so)

Total Number of Nosebleeds: 4

Total Number of Times Someone Says "Trust No One": 1 (i sat here for a while trying to remember if anyone else had said it before Max, and i am almost certain they haven't. if i'm wrong, then idk, stone me to death or something)

Total Number of Cigarettes Cigarette Smoking Man Has Smoked: 2

Total Number of Alex Krycek Sightings: 0 :(

Total Number of Times I Had to Look Up What State the Episode Takes Place in Even Though I Literally Just Watched It: 3 (yeah, not even an inkling of an idea of where this was until i looked it up)

Total Number of Times I Had to Look at an Episode's Wikipedia Page to Fill This Out Because It Was Fucking Confusing and/or Too Boring for Me to Pay Attention: 2 (i had spent so much time worrying about Space that I forgot about Fallen Angel. this episode was both boring AND fucking confusing, so yeah, wikipedia answered a lot of the above)

[poptart-productions]

『 001 | bloodstained 』

[snk series]

previous | series masterlist | next

↳ ❝ [summary] ¡! ❞

after the fall of maria , the training corps. need recruits now more than ever ; you go against your brother’s wishes and join—meeting ( potential ) new friends and a familiar face

↳ ❝ [content] ¡! ❞

black fem! reader ; first person p.o.v ; young reader content ; blood/nosebleeds ; parent hange and levi ; angst ( ? ) ; annoying older brother content ; timeskip toward the end

——————————✩———————————

now playing:

[eye-water]-[hiroyuki sawano]

0:00 ❍─────── 3:01

↻ ⊲ Ⅱ ⊳ ↺

✧;── 001 ──;✧

I WOKE UP ALONE ONE MORNING.

i turned on my side , taking in my surroundings : my brother’s room.

i sit up , tugging the comforter along with me ; i glance around once more , “[b/n]?” i croaked.

no response.

i pulled myself out of bed with a yawn , before waddling to the washroom.

i couldn’t bear even a glimpse at my reflection.

i was still wearing the same clothes ; my hair looked like a mess—i’d been neglecting it—i probably stunk , too.

those clothes were getting large on me ; how long has it been since i’d eaten?

i don’t know how many days had passed but i did know that i spent them commandeering my brother’s room.

sleeping and doing nothing else—nothing productive.

but at the same time. . .

i didn't care.

the only reason i got out of bed today was that i had to pee.

i was in the middle of making my way back to bed when someone knocked on the door.

assuming it to be my brother , i went and fully opened it without a second thought.

imagine my horror when i found that the person i was looking at was , in fact , not my brother.

this is , my mouth went dry , squad leader hange zoë. when [b/n] was home more often , he used to tell me stories about his squad.

his leader’s name was always on the tip of his tongue when he got home ; ‘hange’s crazy’ he said , ‘way too into their research’ he said.

they seemed pretty subdued to me , at least right at that moment.

i continued staring at them before realizing that i should’ve opened my mouth ages ago.

“ sorry , i thought you were my—“

“—brother? he’s on stable duty.”

they shrug , “yeah , he asked me to come and see how you were doing” they smile down at me , and i nod.

it’s silent for a moment.

“. . .so you’re good?”

“—oh , yeah—i’m fine , i guess”

“well , that’s good. my name’s hange zoë! do you need anything or—. . .”

i shake my head , “no! i’m—i’m. . .fine? . . .” shrugging , i avert my gaze.

another moment of silence followed—but it was somehow more uncomfortable than the last.

i sighed , realizing i would have to be the one to fill it.

“so—“

“—you look just like your mother”

i stammered out a half-hearted ‘thank you’, followed by , “you knew her?”

“well yeah. . . ?” a forced laugh pulls at zoë’s lips ,“. . .didn’t you?”

i turned to stone ; analyzing them to ensure they were seriously asking.

i looked down for a moment , and as i look up—feeling prepared to answer , i found that squad leader zoë was gone.

i didn’t search for long before i witnessed them being dragged away by a man who is much shorter than they are.

is that , i narrowed my eyes , corporal ackermann?

“c’mon , levi—what did i do?” they shout in the distance.

i guess it is him.

weird.

i began to retreat back into the room when a dull ache settled in my heart.

it’s been a while since i’ve seen [b/n].

i left the room as i was , wandering off in hopes of finding the stables—i found everything but that.

this had to be the tenth time i’d walked into a random room within the last hour.

this must be the sick bay.

the scent was thick , the morale was low.

a civilian woman lay slumped over an empty bed ; her sobs muffled by the comforter.

i mumbled out an awkward apology to anyone i made eye contact with and started to leave.

but i stopped ; my legs wouldn’t move.

i turned back , staring at the woman intently.

before i knew it , i was making my way over to her, kneeling to her level , although she didn’t notice me in her current state.

rather than getting startled when i placed my hand on the center of her back , she just paused and glanced back at me.

her face had been swollen and twisted with sorrow ; she looked at me as if she was expecting someone else.

she doesn’t say anything , waiting for me to speak first , “. . .would you like a hug?”

her gaze fell to the floor , as she appeared to be pondering my offer.

her tense hands unclench around the sheets , and she turns her body to me.

she gingerly wraps her arms around my body , resting her head on my shoulder.

she cried into my shirt for a time and when she was finished , she pulled away from me.

her body looked heavy , but she got up.

she smiled at me—though it was fleeting , before leaving the room.

i stayed there for a while , startled by a firm hand on my shoulder , “hey , kid—“

it was only when i noticed my nose was bleeding that i realized that i had just suplexed a nurse.

the aforementioned nurse was now wiping away the blood on my face ; i kicked my feet back and forth on the bed as she did so.

“you know lina?” she suddenly asked , and i only blinked at her ; she laughed , “guess not , huh? she’s the woman you were just talking to.”

“i just thought you knew her because she didn’t speak to anyone else, is all.” she mumbled , diverting her attention back to my bloody nose.

my eyebrows furrowed at this information , “i don’t know—i guess she just wanted to let it out.”

the woman halted completely.

“she’s been through a lot , but , ” i continued , “i think she’ll be okay.”

the woman laughed ; humorlessly—i initially thought , “you’re real mature for a kid , you know that?”

“you’ve got some serious strength—most kids can’t do things like that.” she continues.

she raises a brow , glancing up at me , “you ever considered joining the corps.?” “yes!”

i composed myself , “. . .yes.”

“the scouts. i wanna join the scouts”

the woman leaned back , examining my face for a moment ; upon gathering that i was serious , she smiled “with proper training , you’ll get there.”

in the end , that interaction lit a fire under me ; so much so , that i’d actually taken the time to look after myself.

i’d taken a shower , and attempted to do something with my hair—though , there was not much at my disposal.

i was sitting at my brother’s desk when he finished his cleaning.

“i’m back,” he noticed me , and paused for a moment , “you’re looking better” he closed the door , a smile forming.

i nodded in his direction , “why don’t you have a seat?”

“. . .okay?” he was a bit apprehensive , but did as he was asked.

i shifted , waiting a minute before making my proposal , “i wanna join the trainee corps.”

he laughed.

he’d been laughing for the past twenty minutes—every time his laughter would start to die down , he’d take one look at my face and start cackling all over again.

“i’m sorry—i’m sorry—i just—“ “—i don’t get what’s so funny about this.” i shut him up , crossing my arms.

my brother mirrored my actions , “why can’t you just tailor dresses or open a bakery like a normal woman?”

“you’re just afraid i might outshine you for once” i jest ; [b/n] all but chortles at the idea , “you wish. . .”

“it’s just-. . .” he became fidgety all of a sudden , his hands in a desperate search for somewhere to be.

“you could die.”

“so could you.” i stated.

he stilled , raising his eyebrows at me—the thing he always did when he was thinking about something.

he stood up from the bed , approaching the desk until he was directly in front of me.

“alright , well answer me this : why exactly do you wanna join so badly?”

i smiled , as i’d rehearsed my answer, “you and me are different .”

“i care about more than just surviving.”

“i want everyone to live.”

“i know i can help humanity get there one day , that’s why i want to join”

[b/n] pressed his lips together.

he was silent for a moment , eyes heavy.

he huffed , reaching down to flick my forehead , “ow!”

“you’re so corny” yawning , [b/n] collapsed onto his bed , groaning into the pillow , “this blanket smells like feet”

completely ignoring that , i then ask , “wait! so—did i pass the test?”

he turned to me , “there was no test , i knew you were gonna go anyway”

“okay!” i became giddy , practically leaping off the chair , “where do i sign up?”

“you can ask the commander about it,” [b/n] mumbles

“alright—“ “—but don’t get your hopes up.” he called after me , as i was leaving the room.

i turn back to him , “why not?”

“before you do any drills , you have to do. . .”

“mandatory recruit training.” he put on a drill sergeant's voice.

i stop moving , eyes squinting in confusion , “what?”

the answer is : the most miserable three years of my existence , at least up until that point.

at the very least , i soon realized that one of my fellow recruits was armin.

i wanted to speak with him but he didn't seem to recognize me—and it’s not like i could just go up and say ‘hey , i’m the girl that pulled a gun on our bullies ; remember?’

besides , he already had friends that he was always with ; each of them was very hard to approach on their own , led alone when together.

it got harder to socialize when everyone formed their friendship circles.

excluding me , of course because i was too much of a coward to go make friends like i used to.

despite being at the top of my unit , i began to agonize over how to talk to people.

i’d successfully fumbled every scenario i schemed in my head.

i saw my brother less , so i ate alone , trained alone , and no one wanted to be paired with me in sparring matches.

my over-excessive nosebleeds i had gotten during this time did not help.

it had gotten to the point where i was constantly being carted off to the infirmary , and all my shirts were stained with blood.

we were about to join the trainee corps. and i still hadn't made any friends.

in honor of our ‘graduation’ , we were given our fitted uniforms and slightly better food for supper.

i ended up taking my tray outside so i could prod at my food without the prying eyes of others.

the sound of encroaching footsteps disrupt the otherwise silent surroundings.

i tensed , holding my breath as i waited for them to pass ; instead , this person sat next to me on the steps.

i stay silent for an embarrassing amount of time before the person started laughing at me , “not gonna say hello?”

it was my brother ; he was twenty-three by then.

“what are you doing here?” my demeanor changed in an instant.

“because it’s your birthday?” i then noticed the small box he was holding in his right hand.

but i can’t have forgot about my own birthday , right?

“ —what day is it?”

he blinked , “your birthday.”

feeling stupid , i hung my head , “. . .right”

“anyway ,” [b/n] stood up , “i just came to give you this.” he tossed me the present.

“be good.” with that , he walks away—no ‘how have you been’ or anything.

some things just don’t change.

deciding that i was done eating , i stood up.

i turned around , shocked to find a familiar face.

“happy birthday” , he said , avoiding eye contact ; a gentle smile on his face

armin.

↳ ❝ [tags] ¡! ❞

@cafesho , @y-yinyang , @blackdxggr

[autistic-parker]

CHAINS

With a shove, I tripped face-first into the cell, squeaking as I felt my nose crunch on the cold stone. Behind me the door slammed and the lock clicked into place. I listened carefully, eyes closed, bleeding onto the ground, until I heard the jailer's footsteps move away.

I shifted onto my side with a rattling noise (which was far too loud in the circumstances) and waited longer until I heard the door away from the cells open and then slam shut once again.

I almost hate to say that I understood why this had been the punishment. It certainly put a damper on my plans of escape. For now. The shackles wouldn't stay on forever.

I winced as I finally sat up, not really wanting to but also not especially wanting to cut off my circulation to my arms or lie down on my back and risk choking on my own blood.

It was getting towards evening and the light mostly ended up in the cells on the other side. The light that reached my little cell was significantly dimmer at that point, diffused as it was along with the late evening coming on. Might be diner soon.

Provided the screws thought the shackles were sufficient punishment and didn't also decide to withhold any meals. Just what I'd fucking need, I'm sure. The nosebleed and bruised ribs should go into their calculations too. I just had to hope that would be enough. I'd certainly be in a lot of pain for quite a while. Even more so it the shackles started to chafe and blister my ankles.

I spat blood onto the floor and leaned a little more forward. The blood gleamed a slightly sinister orange in the evening light. Times like these I wished the other cages had occupants. Even just to stare at. People watching was always interesting, even if they weren't doing anything. (Or at least it something interesting, and even with the pain I found myself dreadfully bored.) (It's horrifying, sometimes, the things one can get used to.) (If only I wasn't too damn freaked out to shout at myself.)

(I tried that a few days ago and nearly scared myself to death. It felt like I was having a heart attack. I had ended up sobbing very very quietly, mouth closed, and the guard who'd eventually come down gave me a strange look. Pitying instead of hateful.)

[fightclubgayporn]

Rubbing Alcohol

Summary: An exploration of Kan and Vernon's friend-ish-ship, through the lens of Kan being an alcoholic. 2nd person, Kan's perspective. uh cw for alcoholism obvs and also Vernon makes like one suicide joke

“Get up.”

Bleary, you look up from prone position and meet the cold blue eyes of Vernon Valentine. The asphalt crushing your face has notes of nosebleed and wet stone.

You mumble incoherently into the pavement, allowing the rain water to soak your shirt. You’re already wet, so who cares?

“Kan,” Vernon sighs. It’s one of the bad sighs, a sharp one that means he’s annoyed with you. “Get up already. I’m serious. I wanna go home.”

You want to go home, too. It’s cold, for early September, at least, and you’re craving the comfort of your bedframeless mattress. You kick your toe against the pebbled ground. You tripped on the loose gravel on your way to wrap your arms around his neck. He never hugs you, you’re always the initiator. It’s become a sort of game of yours, to see how much intimacy you can get away with before he pushes back. 

It’s stupid, and you know that, but you can’t get rid of your desire to weigh him down, drag him to your level. He’s so above it all, and you’re so…not. 

You’re taller than him, by a fair bit, but it never feels that way. Especially when you’re facedown, looking up at him like he’s your god-king. At this moment, he looks more like a disappointed parent. 

“Help me…” you mumble, weakly squeezing the air, grasping for Vernon’s hand. It’s always been this way; you’re the one who fucks up and he’s the one to put you back together.

He sighs, but you feel his cold hand grasp yours, and soon you’re back on your feet. You’re not a light guy, but Vernon lets you sling an arm around his neck, shouldering your weight like a champ.

“Alright, big guy. Let’s get you home.”

When you blink up at him, he’s smiling, all soft and nurturing. He likes you, that’s why he puts up with you and your mistakes. Or, mutters a voice of self-doubt, he just likes the control.

You’re lucky to have him. So lucky. You say so, pouring the words into the gap between his sweatshirt and his skin.

“I know,” he murmurs. It’s so soft, you almost don’t hear it, so gentle that the warm alcohol in your stomach starts feeling like something akin to love.

You could cry, and you will when you’re back in your bed, when Vernon goes back to his room, and you’re alone. Sometimes you wish he would open the door, crawl under the covers with you, share his body heat, though you know he never will.

It doesn’t hurt to hope.

You wake up late. There’s a pounding sea between your ears and a soreness behind your ribs. You hug your pillow closer, trying to blot out the deafening light coming through your tiny window.

You can hear Vernon in the kitchen, and your stomach growls. You haven’t eaten since last night, and besides, a bag of corn nuts and four shots of vodka isn’t exactly a meal.

Fighting your sluggish muscles, you manage to make it out of your room.

“Morning, sleeping beauty” Vernon greets you, pushing a glass of water across the table.

You take a sip, mostly just to see the approval wash across his face. You feel more lonely than hungover.

“You want something to eat?” Vernon asks, except he’s not asking, so it comes out more as a statement. You want something to eat. You do. Period. End of sentence.

You make a noncommittal hum. He’ll do what he wants. It doesn’t matter what you say.

“How’s your head?” he asks, sliding a piece of bread into the toaster with practiced efficiency. With his other hand, he takes a battered stick of butter out of the fridge, smacking it a few times to warm it up.

“You know. Bad.” you shrug, leaning your elbows on the table. “I’ve had worse, though. I’ll survive.”

Vernon chuckles, punctuated by the bread popping out of the toaster. “Most psychiatrists would call you an alcoholic.”

It’s a joke. He says it like one, at least. But you’re not an alcoholic. You don’t think.

“I’m fun when I drink,” you reason. It’s true, you are. Everyone likes to watch someone make a fool of themselves, everyone prefers the manic to the depressive. You’re no fun when you’re holed up in your room, smelling like smoke and fermentation, wasting away.

“Sure,” He says, scratching butter across the toast. You hate the sound. It means he left the bread in the toaster for too long.

“I’m not an alcoholic.” You say firmly. Vernon raises his eyebrows at you, and, okay, that might have sounded a little defensive. “Really,” you insist. Really.

“Okay.” He shrugs. “I was just saying.” 

Lighten up.

He slides you the toast, looking at the microwave clock instead of you. 

9:38

“Shit,” He mutters, shoving a ring of keys into his pocket and still not looking at you. You take a bite of the toast. It’s burnt. 

Vernon works at the diner around the corner. He’s a waiter, which always struck you as odd. It’s hard to picture Vernon serving anyone.

You’re not complaining, though. It’s not like you’re employed. You’re so utterly reliant on Vernon that you wouldn’t care what he did for a living, even if he was a hired killer. He takes care of you. That’s all that matters.

You’re lucky, you really are.

It’s boring, waiting for Vernon to come home. You guess it’s pathetic that he’s the center of your universe, that you’d fall out of orbit if he ever left. Then you see him again, and you don’t care anymore. You’re fine with being pathetic.

Most people would say that you’re in love with him. You guess it’s true. You’d fuck him if he asked. You’d do anything if he asked. 

You can’t picture being boyfriends, though. The two of you aren’t lacey red valentines and sweet nothings and pillow talk, you’re cranberry liqueur and cheap takeout and codependent coexistence. 

Not quite love. Love-adjacent, maybe. Infatuation.

The hours pass. You stay in bed, watching reality shows and waiting for Vernon to come back. You make yourself microwave rice. You take a nap. You wake up. You force yourself to leave the beer in the fridge. You wait.

At 7:03, the front door slams open and you hear Vernon throw his keys onto the counter. 

You wait a full four seconds before coming out to meet him. You don’t want to appear too desperate, like some sort of 50s housewife. Honey, I’m home! 

You snort. The image is absurd. Vernon isn’t giving you a kiss on the cheek, he’s muttering angrily under his breath.

You see his face and your stomach sinks. Bad mood, tread lightly. 

“Uh, did something…happen?”

Vernon smiles, mean and sharp. “Did some—” he rolls his eyes. “Yeah, Kan, something happened.” 

You deserve that. It’s a habit that’s always annoyed him, how you state the obvious. Can’t just be comfortable in silence, can you?

“Do you need anyth—”

“It’s just so frustrating! A customer breaks a plate and I get blamed? Fucking fascists, all of them!” You know by now that when Vernon gets like this, it’s not because he’s mad at you. You’re just the nearest person. You’re just a body. “And I can’t even quit, cause you’re never gonna get a job! Your only two settings are depressed and drunk, and only one of those is halfway tolerable!”

The words hit you like a slice in the gut. It’s a joke, or he says it like one, but you can read between the lines. 

You’re only fun when you’re wasted.

“Hey,” your voice comes out weak and shaky, like a newborn calf trying to walk. 

Vernon raises an eyebrow at you. “What? I’m just saying.”

Lighten up.

“Okay.” What are you supposed to say? How are you supposed to fix this?

“Hey, don’t be like that.” His expression softens and any amount of contempt you held for him instantly melts away. “I’m sorry, alright? I didn’t mean anything by it.”

You know. You know he didn’t. He’s a saint for putting up with you, you can’t stay mad. You can’t even stay hurt. 

“I can…try to look for a job. If you want.” You really don’t want to. But it’s Vernon. You have to try for Vernon.

His eyebrows shoot up, then he bursts out laughing. “Ha! Oh my god, Kan, you do not have to do that. Oh my god.” He smiles up at you, and yes, you’re taller than him, but when he laughs like that, you feel like a child. “Listen, I love you, man, but we both know you’re cut out for that kind of thing.”

Huh? 

“Huh?”

Vernon’s lips quirk up, condescending. “Um. Kan. Come on.” There’s a pause. “You’re just kind of… no offense, but you’re, like, a total screw-up.”

Your heart feels like it’s been doused in ice water. He’s right, of course, he always is. You’re always the first to admit that you’re a failure. It feels different when he says it, though. Like your stomach is trying to throw itself up. How does it always end up with him comforting you?

“Like, I feel like you’d work one shift and then hang yourself, you know?” He laughs, but you’re not in on the joke. “Just let me take care of the hard stuff, ‘kay?”

He throws an arm around your shoulders and squeezes, the kind of hug that guys who don’t hug give.

At least he’s touching you.

[lex1nat0r]

Transcription below

30/10: Ancient, faded remains of luxurious cushions and bedrolls. Graffiti scratched into the stone in draconic by ancient humanoid servants of the dragons.

31/10: Room is difficult to traverse on foot due to ranks of humanoids wielding pikes all turned to stone fending off similarly petrified amorphous bulbous mass taking up southern half of the room. Cracks in the mass as the still-living flesh inside is still growing.

1/11: Doors busted off their hinges by the mass of flesh. Characters with weak constitutions will spontaneously get nosebleeds, feel their blood rebelling. It takes a few hours to get acclimated to the flesh.

2/11: Got Talger adult black dragon slowly being consumed into the flesh. Fighting it, but losing. Coughs, roars. Can tell, somewhat disjointed, how the coming of the blackrock opened a gate to the Plane of Wounds, which the dragons have been fighting.

3/11: Room coated in flesh, crowded with still-living dragon servants who, flesh-maddened, will sometimes wrench themselves free and pursue single-mindedly. Their goal is to embed anything living in the flesh.

4/11: Gently sloping fleshy tunnel leads down into the fleshy caverns. A fist-sized diamond hangs above the tunnel on a mass of sinews like a uvula. Stress on the sinews causes the fleshy walls of the tunnel to clamp shut, potentially on anyone in the tunnel.

5/11: Old dragon skeleton in E half of room, the flesh will not approach closer than 5'. This dragon's bones can be fashioned into items that slightly repel the flesh.

#Dungeon23 - Level 10

The Dragon Tunnels

Transcription below

2/10: Ancient stairs worn almost into uselessness winding around the chamber. The floor is littered with giant-sized spears, javelins, and arrows, all embedded point-down in the stone.

3/10: Scores of ancient bones suspended near the arched ceiling. Bones are all shapes and sizes. Anything disturbing the air in the room risks causing the bones to fall - potentially damaging.

Note: And loud. Had to provide a spooky room for spooky season!

4/10: Ornate reliefs decorate the chamber, mostly showing dragons. Sockets for gems can be matched to jewels found in Columm-Herzik. Nothing happens if they are returned but one of the sockets has a button that opens the door to 6/10.

5/10: Three headless giants, constantly burning, clusters of spectral wyrms flailing from the neck stumps. Armed and armored in ancient bronze. Not technically undead. Will be alerted by bones falling in 3/10 but won't investigate into 2/10.

6/10: Life-sized statue of a young dragon, gold plated bronze, emerald eyes. Hollow, contains dried humanoid corpse. Clay tablets under the statue hold spells for locating natural gemstones and communicating through flames.

Note: difficult to think of good spells as treasure at this level.

7/10: Throne with what appears to be a giant humanoid skeleton, but on closer inspection is several entwined serpent skeletons. Actual humanoid skeletons in niches along the walls, more serpentine skeletons in their ribcages.

8/10: Five huge gnarled spiders tending a web with cocooned ratfolk, troll, and deepthing corpses. Several piles of small gems are hidden under larger webs.

[sanjisblackasswife]

Sanji NSFW Alphabet (Fem!Black Reader in Mind)

A= Aftercare (what is he like after sex):

Sanji actually loves aftercare a bit more than actually having sex. After being so vulnerable and intimate with each other he loves nothing more than to kiss and massage any areas he was a bit rough on your body. He loves the feel and sound of the last moan you let out after slowly pulling out as he passionately kisses you while still coming down from your high. He swears it feels like he’s on cloud 9 when he feel the vibrations of your pretty noises in his mouth. Once you both are cleaned up and finally drifting to sleep, pillow talk is his favorite thing and that’s when he feels a bit more open to share about himself. Most of his secrets were shared with you right after sex because it’s his way of expressing his level of trust and love with you. Aftercare also consist of snacks he made before hand, your favorite drink, and depending on what you’d like it will be either a bath or a quick shower. Fair warning though if your offer Sanji to bathe you it may lead to another round.

B = Body Part(their favorite body part on themselves and partner)

Sanji loves his hands. They’re something he views as his tool and now that he has you he views them as something that can not only cook you good food, but make you cum until you crumble under him.

Sanji ofc loves the female anatomy (boobs being #1), but on his girl specifically has to be her butt. He constantly catches himself staring at the way your hips sway and your butt bounces like a ball when wearing skirts and dresses. He literally gets a nosebleed just from how soft and bouncy it looks and how pretty it is being gripped by his huge hands. Every time you guys kiss he has to grip the bottom of your butt because it’s just so squishy to him. The first time he saw you in a bikini (a size too small May I add) he nearly turned into stone. Before you guys dated he always hand his hand so scarcely above your butt when touching you, not wanting to actually make you uncomfortable and grope you of course, but once you caught on to his obsession of your backside you allowed him to touch it as he pleases. Next to your breast your butt is his personal stress ball and as much as he loves to look you in the face when you cum, nothing beats seeing how wet and slippery your butt is when he hits it from the back.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically):

My poor Sanji was a touch starved virgin before he met you and only had the help of his fist to relieve himself so you best believe he cums nearly buckets now that he has you. He doesn’t enjoy actually spraying on your face though, he’d cum on (or in) any part of your body, but your pretty face. He believes you shouldn’t be defiled there of course (but anywhere else is fine because that’s his logic) One time you asked him too and he did, but after seeing the mess on your gorgeous chubby face he felt an inner guilt arise causing him to make a slight frown. However the guilt started to die down and turn into shock when he looked down to see you scoop some of it off your cheek to suck off your thumb. He was so flustered (and turned on ) that now Every time he sees you wiping and licking something off your face he feels that guilt and a tightness in his pants.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs):

Sanji actually enjoys sharing his secrets with you (mostly during the Pillow talk sessions) however there are a couple that he may end up leaving to the grave.

The first one was before you two started dating (and before the 2 year departure from each other). Sanji walked in on your playing with yourself in the bathroom. He was walking to take his nightly shower after cooking and prepping all day and he heard noises from the slightly creaked open bathroom. He peaked to see your plush thighs spread open, with one leg hung over the tub with one hand on your breast and the other pumping in and out of your fat pussy. The way your eyes were shut and your eyebrows furrowed possibly trying to imagine some scenario to make your cum faster as your middle and ring finger start rubbing tight circle on your clit had Sanji redder than a tomato. Sanji never seen such a sight with a woman before. Living with Zeff and his crew he unfortunately had some incidents walking in on GUYS, but seeing a female made him not want to look away. You looked so pretty, your body was so prefect, and the way your curls almost covered your face mostly showing your beautiful plump lips Sanji felt overwhelmed. He palmed the bulge growing in his pants after hearing such soft and low moans your tried to conceal. The show was something to watch up until he nearly choked hearing you cum and moan out “Sanji…yess Sanji….”

That was the first time Sanji came untouched.

To add on to that secret he really wants to have a mutual masturbation session with you, but he has no clue on how to approach you about it without possibly exposing himself(pun intended).

The second secret is Sanji uses your panties to jack off. We all know he’s a pervert and a panty stealer. It’s true Oda told me himself. However sometimes he tends to take his pervertedness too far and this is one of those moments: he catches himself almost elbow deep into your dirty laundry as you are taking a shower and finds your soiled panties that were the ones you came in last night when Sanji was eating you out through your panties. He take a quick smell of the fabric and it immediately hits his dick making him hard in the process. He rushes to his own room, flops on his bed and without skipping a beat, the damp crotch of your pretty thong is resting on top of his nose as he rubs one out imaging the natural scent of your is actually coming from your thick walls around his tongue and not just his imagination.

He still does it when you two are separated.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Me personally, I don’t believe anybody (except Chopper) after the post time skip is a virgin. They all lost it somehow to someone whether it was from a quickie, someone they met during the two years, or during a party they had, etc. I also think Luffy could still possibly be a virgin if I really think about canon Luffy, but I mean it’s possible he had at least ONE experience with a woman (not including his time during Amazon Lily) —-

Ykw this isn’t about him it’s about Sanji and for this post I’m going to say Sanji was a virgin when you met him. He has watched/read plenty of porn to get the jist of sex, but you know what they say about getting sex advice from porn…it’s a Nono. When you two first had sex you did most of the work considering Sanji was a blabbering mess from just seeing your pretty hands around his cock, he nearly felt embarrassed because he’s never gotten this far with a woman. He actually is a fast learner and though there were a few incidents where he may have shoved it into the wrong hole out of excitement or missed your clit entirely, he always ends up learning from his mistakes and tries to focus his attention on what you want and need during sex.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Anything that has your breast pressed up against him. If he had to choose though he’d probably say you being on top. It’s sensory overload seeing your tits jump in his face, your head swung back with your mouth gapped open moaning Sanji’s name. It’s a sight he never gets sick of. To add on he’s heavy on holding hands at least once during sex and constant kissing.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Sanji loves to keep things lighthearted and fun with you. There have been plenty of times where one of you have possibly hit your head on the headboard too hard or even made a stupid inside joke while doing foreplay which ended in playful laughter at each other. Love making for Sanji will always be one of the few thing he takes serious, but never to the point where it isn’t fun for the both of you.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He’s trimmed down there for the most part, it doesn’t grow out of control, but he has a pretty light brown happy trail similar color to his beard that you get blessed to see when he is shirtless or peaking out when he stretches and his shirt lifts. He’s asked you if you’d like him to shave it, but you quickly declined him to do such a thing. Sanji finds it cute knowing that when you’re in the mood to have sex while cuddling you’ll play with his happy trail as a signal.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

This is Mr. Prince we are talking about here. He breathes romance, when it’s special occasions (birthday, anniversary, or sometimes even after a solid win against the marines) he tends to be a bit more over the top, rose petals all over your room, long massages that lead to beautiful (and slippery) love making.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

You know that scene where Chopper goes through Sanji’s locker and it’s nothing but porn magazines? Yeah that was just Oda’s way of saying this mf jacks off ALOT. He slowed down a little after getting with you with him now really doing it if you’re too busy or when he takes showers by himself.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Praise kink go brrrr: His favorite nicknames you give him are “Pretty/Good boy”. Giving him compliments in general gets him flustered but when your dirty mouth keeps blabbering on how good his tongue feels in between your legs and how he’s the only man that can make you feel so good he nearly cums on the spot.

Especially since he knows you’re not lying.

Sonmo : This one was actually developed because of you. Since you know your busy Prince tends to not have much free time and mostly comes back to bed at a very late time, You once offered Sanji to use your body whenever you’re sleep and he is in the mood. Sanji quickly declined because he felt as if he were taking advantage of you and he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. It did take a while for him to be ok with the idea, but you allowed him the opportunity whenever he felt comfortable. He finally decided to give it a shot after he had been pent up all day and barely even saw you since everybody had to run errands. He took a shower and seen your pretty body only wearing a loose t shirt and panties, something you agreed to wear for him to sleep to give him easy access. He started off just taking off ur panties and stroking himself looking at your lightly damped pussy, but after the first two nights he needed more so he got down to eating you out for a little and now almost every other night you lightly wake up to Sanji’s cock dragging in and out of your pretty walls.

Some honorable kink mentions he has are:

Role Play (He likes pretending to meet you for the first time to go to a hotel and have sex)

Dirty Talk (More coming from you rather than him. I.e. it drives him crazy when you whisper the things you want him to do to you)

Nipple play (He loves sucking your nipples, ALOT. But one time you felt bold and trailed your kisses to his nipple and sucked. Come to find out he is very sensitive there.)

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Contrary to belief Sanji very rarely has sex in the kitchen. He knows you both are very messy so he doesn’t do much besides do a lot of foreplay with you then head back to the bedroom. He REALLY loves the bathroom though, something about shower sex gets him going.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going

Speaking of getting him going seeing you in general riles him up. He can’t help it! However if he’s busy working and you want to immediately get him hard just wrap your arms around him from behind and moan his name and how much you need him. Sanji loves catering to women so knowing you WANT AND NEED him makes Sanji’s brain short circuit, and to add insult to injury Hearing his name spill out of your beautiful lips makes his knees buckle. He swears your teasing will be the death of him.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Alot don’t think “no” is in Sanji’s vocabulary for women, but it is if you offered a threesome, to peg him, or to degrade/hurt you. He loves you, he really does but sharing you is an immediate no especially knowing you’ll probably ask for another GUY. You know he will always say no so sometimes just to make him upset you’d ask if Zoro could join which will immediately cause a small (but funny) argument and God help Zoro if he’s in Sanji’s eyesight. Pegging would also be a no, simply because he doesn’t want his butt played with. HE JUST DOESN’T. Also, we all know Sanji’s rule on hurting women. He just cannot get himself to call your out your name or leave any harmful marks on you (hickies and love bites are ok). He knows his own strength and would rather die than to possibly take it too far and hurting you whether it’s physically or verbally. Pls be understanding:(

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Sanji is a giver by nature so best believe this man will cater to your oral needs (I also believe he has an oral fixation too so W there). The first time he ate you out was messy and all over the place , but it wasn’t BAD? It was actually so good you came within less than 60 seconds, he became even better the second time. Sanji isn’t a greedy man however that can be changed after he’s gotten a taste of you. He loves being in between those thick thighs of yours and his talented tongue is a plus.

However.

He doesn’t like receiving.

Ok that’s a stretch he does LOVE it, seeing you making gagging and sucking noises on his cock drives him insane, but he feels bad for it. He doesn’t like seeing you on your knees so matter how much you tell him you like to look up at him. You stop pushing him though after knowing about his underlying issues and so you both agreed that you’ll either do 69 or lay on the bed while sucking him off and he fingers you.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

He’ll go whatever pace you want, but his default is slow, sensual and deep. He wants you to feel every inch of his body as much as he wants to feel yours. He really likes talking it slow because of your soft and thick body. He grips and kisses any roll/curve you have with each thrust and it makes your brain just melt.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

His libido is higher than a giraffe‘s booty so when you two are docked or it’s a party happening Sanji will always manage to find you and slip you off to a clean and secluded area to have his way with you. Most of it ended with you on the wall or him on his knees. Sometimes he simply does it for the rush of being caught so he internally bets himself on how fast (and how many times) he can make you cum before someone turns the corner.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

When you both first got together and had sex that very next week he felt bold enough to cuddle you and SHOW YOU in a magazine he had all the things he wanted to try with you. From positions, to role play he was an open book and it actually turned you on on how blunt he was, “Look! See this position I really wanted to try since you like when I put your legs on my shoulders! Oh please my beautiful Y/N can we try it!?”

You took him right then and there.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Homeboy got stamina and strength for days no matter how much blood he nearly lost while doing foreplay. He will cum fast the first round but he makes up for it with his tongue and fingers. A Typical night of sex with Sanji last about 30-45 minutes.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Sanji found your vibrator once on accident while trying to steal more of your panties. This was one secret he couldn’t keep because he immediately imagined all the times you possibly came on that vibrator and though he was afraid to ask you about it , you were a bit flustered, but he reassured you that he wasn’t making fun of you, but wanted to possibly add it to your sex life.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

After the 2 year break he became more bolder with his teasing with you. Before he always was a victim to your touches and gentle whispers in his ear, but now he knows how to reverse the card on you with kissing your weak spots when you least expect it and even holding his gaze on you. The teasing act never last long if your decide you wanted to fight back dirty as well.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Despite his deep, raspy voice Sanji has the prettiest moans you’d ever hear from a guy like him. They’re soft and whinny with a hint of groaning, his voice gets a bit higher than he’d like to acknowledge and he is very vocal moaning out “cum with me! Cum with me please y/n!” , “I’m close..I-I’m so close baby!” He’s not loud like Luffy, but if you were to walk by the door you’d hear a few muffled moans out of him.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Sanji can speak French very fluid. He only really speaks it when he talking to himself or cursing under his breath. You heard him a few times and it was so hot, but you were afraid to ask him about it.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Sanji is a grower not a shower (4 on soft and 6 and a half on hard). He actually was a bit scared he wasn’t going to be big enough for you the first go around, but you reassured him through your moans and praises of “You’re so big..San—AH!” And “Will it fit?” Questions. It definitely stroked his ego a bit. It’s very pretty too with one really long thick vein sticking out at the bottom. Whenever you go down on him you’re sure to lick and drag your tongue on it which brings out another pretty moan from Sanji

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Higher than a kite. His ideal day is laying in bed, eating, drinking and having sex back to back all on a rainy day. He told you this once as you were holding him late night so now that is something you hope to give him one day because he deserves it<3.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He actually falls asleep faster when you’re the one holding him. Typically he’ll do his aftercare routine, but one time you pulled him back down to the bed and just held him. He didn’t know what to do as the heat rose to his face being nuzzled on your damp breast, but he snuggled himself securely on top of your and to this day that was the best sleep he ever had.

Don’t steal or repost my writing it’ll piss me off.

[dilemmaontwolegs]

hihi!!!!

could i pretty please have a bucky x fem or gn avenger!reader? something along the lines of reader having mind reading powers(maybe forced?) and theyre new at coping with it. it causes dissociation, migraines, nosebleeds, etc. reader tries to hide it from the team but bucky notices? either an established relationship or new acquaintances to lovers (your choice) you can really play with this concept as much as you want! i know i put a lot of little details which can be tedious so just whatever you’re comfortable with is more than enough :)

thank you for all your amazing work i adore reading your stories 🥰

Promises || Bucky Barnes

Warnings: Angst, fluff, mention of blood. WC: 1k

You had got too close, you knew it was stupid but you had to try something - it was the last hail mary in the war against Thanos. Bucky had watched helplessly as you tried to get between Vision and the giant purple alien, his fist easily closing around your throat as he tore the golden gem from Vision’s forehead. Bright light blinded you as the stone’s release fractured your body and ignited a power you had never felt before. 

Memories of the madman infiltrated your mind and you felt his sorrow as well his fear of failing. He truly believed he was saving the universe by wiping out half of all life, he didn’t even care if he was one of the incalculable victims of the decimation - he had already lost all he cared for in the search for the stones. 

The connection to his mind was cut as he dropped you to the ground, your throat burning as you desperately gasped for air. The relief lasted only a moment as the stone settled into place and he raised the gauntlet, snapping his fingers without any hesitation. You struggled to your knees, eyes scanning the crowd for Bucky only to see him stumble as he reached for you.

“Buc-” Your words were lost to wind, dust tumbling from lips before the rest of you followed.

Five Years Later She looks tired.

“I’m fine.” You snapped at Bucky, instantly feeling guilty that he bore the brunt of your recent mood swings. “I’m sorry. I have a bit of a headache.”

“It’s fine.” He sighed, rubbing his own head as he tried to stop himself thinking too loud. “Do you want me to walk you to the medbay?”

You shook your head and retreated back to the bedroom instead. “I’m just going to lie down.”

Warmth rolled over your lip and you tasted the metallic bite of the blood running down your face. Pacing past the bed, you made it to the adjoining bathroom and found the culprit was yet another nosebleed. Everyone else had returned as they were from the blip, but not you. You had changed, and Dr Banner had determined the Mind Stone to be the reason. 

The door behind you creaked open and you looked up from the sink to find Bucky’s concerned reflection in the mirror. “I smelt blood.”

You sighed as you dropped the washcloth into the sink and turned to face him. He crossed the room in two strides reaching for the discarded cloth, his hands turning the tap to warm before wringing it out and lifting it to your face. You kept still as he dabbed the blood away, tipping your chin back to make sure he didn’t miss any before he tossed the washcloth into the hamper in the corner. 

“That was surprisingly gentle.” You teased, trying to lighten the mood in the room, a ghost of a smile gracing his face.

“I had a lot of practice.” He smiled bitterly. “Steve was always getting himself into fights, someone had to patch him up.” I guess it didn’t mean that much to him. He still left.

You flinched as you heard his private thoughts and his nostril flared as he inhaled deeply. “I didn’t mean to. I don’t have any control over it…”

“I know.” He said as he swallowed and took a step back. “I just need a moment.”

As quick as he arrived, he was gone and you turned back to the mirror to practice the breathing exercises Dr Banner had taught you. He knew just how interconnected power and emotions were and the deep breathing was something he had practised a lot with over the years when he was internally fighting the Hulk.

The ache in your head eased as you lost the tension from your body, the overwhelming sounds of the world and minds in the building dissipating to a background buzz. A drop of blood on your shirt almost sent another wave of emotion through you but you quickly tore it over your head and grabbed a clean one before leaving. 

…forgot to buy onions…

You shook your head as if you could throw their thoughts from your mind before picking up the pace, you needed to find some place where you could be alone in your mind. 

…she’s going to want a divorce…

You began to run, the endless halls that circled the compound leaving you dizzy until you reached an exit and broke free from the concrete prison and into fresh air. A few heads turned your way but most had their own concerns in life to think anything about you and yours. 

Your lungs were beginning to burn as you slowed to a walk, eventually finding solace beneath an old oak tree. The twisted knots of its roots made an almost comfortable place to sit and you dropped down to catch your breath as a bird song began. 

God, she’s so beautiful.

You looked up from the blades of grass you were running your fingers through and saw Bucky crossing the field. 

I wanted you to hear that. I want you to hear it all, no secrets. He said as he continued to close the distance before crouching in front of you. It’s just going to take some getting used to.

“But we are going to get through this together.”

You dropped your head to his shoulder as you felt a weight of pressure, you hadn’t even known you were carrying, lift at his promise. “Are you sure? You have tried to shelter me from your past for our entire relationship. At some point you are going to have to fall asleep next to me and share your nightmares with me. Are you ready for that?”

No. “I’m willing to try.” For you. His voice wavered as he took your hands in his, bringing them to his lips. “I want to protect you more than anything but if it’s at the risk of losing you then…I can’t lose you.” Too.

“I’m not going anywhere, Bucky. I’m here as long as you want me.” 

Forever won’t be long enough.

[headspace-hotel]

There Once Was...

Used the rest of my InferKit characters to generate openings for stories. These were created one of two ways: 1) typing “There once was...” and letting the AI complete it, and 2) making a numbered list of previous AI-generated story openings and letting it continue the list. 

There were probably thousands of these, but these are my favorites. Not all make perfect sense, but most would make a great first line for a novel, if you ask me.

There once was a thief named Honesty and an even worse thief named Deception.

There once was an endless sleeping city called Strash, home to greedy capitalists who wanted to forever forget their shared origin as circus performers.

There once was a gun that became sentient and decided to be an assassin. (i love this one)

There once was a lesbian dwarf who wanted to return home for Christmas. While looking for the old magical door to return home, she met a fairy that could show her the way, if only the elf would stop saying Merry Christmas.

There once was a leaf guy in New Jhabingport. He collected leaves of all kinds: ochre and rust. He wished there were more colors. He had a daughter, his only child, who was as red as a single heliotrope leaf and two asparagus stems, for that was the size of her red and green gills, and did nothing but sit about and think, and when she did, she was very distant.

There once was a young magician called Saarlen, who was great at making fake money and spooky diamonds.

There once was an old thief named Jack the Painter who was famous for hiding in your walls. He had a wooden flute and a hideously ugly cat called Squibble.

There once was a lizard. This lizard used to be a boy of about 9, but he had became vain of his skin.

There once was a tailor named Victor Hobbs who only tailored trousers. No greater joy in life could his soul know.

There once was a trucker who loaded a large amount of salt. He only stopped long enough to look for a piece of wood to throw at speeding winged horses.

There once was a poet whose work was anthologized at the dawn of time.

There once was a farmer who lived in an old abandoned castle with evil spirits in it. His two daughters would always get possessed by demons. They got into a sword fight with each other over food.

There once was a wizard who drove his car all the way up to Jupiter, and took his date with him, too.

There once was a cat, the Archbishop of the Catacombs, who was responsible for everything from one thousand two hundred cases of suspicious stomachaches to the death of Princess Fluffy, and who had absolutely no business giving opinions on anything.

There once was an immortal dictator who ruled the world with an iron fist for thousands of years. He was a dictator called "Sheer Strength."

There once was a man called High-Tech Demon who snorted glue for a living.

There once was a leprechaun named Hank, who was well into his 80s and got his kicks by whistling every 8th second.

There once was a woman with the power to turn people into plants.

There once was a former court magician named Araceli, who tried to cast a spell so wicked that it would make the last dragon on earth sicken in his sleep and die of a nosebleed. Unfortunately, the dragon had been chuffed-up by her magic and gave her a remarkably ugly gift as a joke.

There once was a demon who discovered a comet and thought it would make a wonderful weapon against God.

There once was a man named Bartholomew Disgusting.

There once was a knight whose life was as pure as a virgin's liver, but he ended his life with nothing but regrets.

There once was a man named Three-Step-Long-Man, who found a nice round stone and used it to perform eye surgery on himself, while simultaneously executing all the cows in the land of Brix.

There was a man named Mayor Steve who drank white lightning on the hill at night. A long time ago, he witnessed the meeting of Jesus Christ and the Devil. He survived.

There once was a statue of a dwarf warrior who was used as a doorstop by a mason.

There once was an assassin who saw death from fifty feet above and could talk to ghosts. His name was Necomposity and he was trying to kill the sun for three hundred years.

There was a great king who showed many different faces, one day pouring rain and the next day a giant orange sky. He was first married to the Queen of Stars and then married the Queen of Asteroids, whom he had dreams about nightly.

There once was a wizard with a telescope and a clear, blue ice lake, and he saw the future. He used his telepathic powers to ask a magician he knew who was standing near the other side of the lake what would happen in three hours.

There once was a man who wanted to avoid the three main obstacles in life, poverty, loneliness, and of course, himself.

There once was a philosopher who believed that humankind was destined to repeat the same mistakes over and over again forever. He kept locked up behind a black door and beneath a ceiling fan for fear of his mind going the way of all mortal minds.

There once was a reclusive woodcarver who grew bored of carving faces, especially after the death of his favorite model. So he carved a monster out of bone and stone and named it Bembe, after the hero who murdered the Serpent of Eden.

There once was a bizarre woman known as Sister Mincemeat who took to the road. During her travels, she collected a mysterious book called the Book of Doubt, which can send one to the morgue.

There once was a lone troll who one night found himself a rare harp. He played at it for three full moons. The harp sang the beautiful song of Valum Votan to him, and whenever the troll took the instrument in his hands and began to play, he always saw the image of the most beautiful woman who had ever lived.

There once was an alien who followed alien fortunes and strange signs, and went on an adventure on a strange world. He sold some dung to a wizard and landed in a library called Outskirts of the Galaxy.

There once was a girl named Blessed Virgin Mary who sold lampshades and the Virgin Mary mask to tourists.

There once was a travelling salesman who couldn’t let his grumpy and whiny clown persona get him down.

There once was a chicken thief who became a rock star.

There once was an assassin who loved eating human flesh. His name was Epicureanism, and he was hunting you.

There once was a bachelor with a wife and 2.5 kids who is haunted by his clown past.

There once was a man who suffered the devil's whip, but was born with a bullet-proof soul.

There once was an old woman who was cursed to live inside an air-conditioner for one thousand years.

There once was a malformed boy with a camera who worked as an Associate Editor at MONSTERS ARE BIG.

There once was a crossword puzzle fanatic named John Nettle and a dog named Calamity Jane, who had come to a crossword championship.

There once was a gunsmith who sold every firearm known to man, including the bullet that destroyed Noah's ark.

There once was a man who made endless lists. He had a dream of a man who couldn't see anything, and he would give him a lifetime supply of yellow pencils.

There once was a rogue wizard who conjured a star out of nowhere and called it Bakuto, which quickly became his name.

There once was a man from the Moon with seven zits. His name was Mr. Zingler.

There once was a ruthless yet honest gangster named Bling, a good friend of the Fox, who was hit by a falling sign.

There once was a wizard who made it to the top of the damn-near-endless White Rabbit Escalator.

There once was a witch named Lelica, who tried to boil George Washington in a wok for her own amusement.

There once was a gremlin named Hairy Muffins who worked at THE TERMINAL MEAT LOBSTER.

There once was an ordinary man who seemed to glow in the dark.

There once was a woman who held a meeting for normal people where she told them that they were not crazy, and that they were normal.

There once was a man named Dickie and a man named Pepper who played accordions together in a railroad barbershop.

There once was a cowboy who was very knowledgeable about guns, but who could not fire one because he was dead.

There once was a bard who smelled like rare salt pork. His name was Toufik, and he was only in love with himself and maybe the tavern owner or a squirrel or somebody.

There once was a cynical chicken who kept telling lies.

There once was a dragon who loved gossip. This dragon was always sitting in front of the fire at night, giving various advice and then sitting back and laughing, knowing that his friends had listened to his advice.

There once was a white-haired young man with good fashion sense and no arms. When he was 21 years old, a popular poet stole his arms.

There once was a crazed bricklayer who made his living off of attacking the city with every possible tool, including but not limited to lawn mowers, sledgehammers, explosives, and an anvil full of bricks.

There once was a man with the power to make someone's head burst through their back, and if anyone is wondering why no one knows this man's name, it is because he has an extremely tough-to-pronounce last name.

There once was a miner who was at the bottom of the sea. He always wanted to see the sun.

There once was a dwarf who only had one leg. He had a plan, though, to get revenge on the dwarf who cut off his leg.

There once was an eccentric thief who was short and round and talked about being "big as a house."

There once was a master whom possessed the power to turn any mortal into a tree, not to kill them, but to merely ensnare them within an arboreal lifetime.

There once was a grand warlord who used to be a space pirate and a dragon. He was named Shemhazai.

There once was a cat who liked to spend time in saloons, bars, taverns, and brothels. His name was Calipso and he is always hoping you're having a good time.

There once was a blonde man who claimed that he had the power to time travel, and in his earlier life he was a pirate who was famously known for his silver tongue.

There once was an evil dictator named Evil Santa Claus who would fire his Christmas cannon at his own citizens.

There once was a thief who was bound to a calendar. Whenever the 18th day of the month came around, he would turn into a 15 ft tall skeleton and smash things.

There once was a fairy named Mirielle and she was part of a demon family. Her family gave her horns to make her look all evil, but she was really sweet.

There once was a young woman named Rusalka. She lived in a castle and she was very beautiful, but she would turn into a horrible monster every time she heard music.

There once was a Stinky Wife who lived in a decaying house and smelled of boiled cabbage, old pizza, and roasted carp.

There once was a gnome named Mortimer who was very smart, but he lived in a sewer and never did much with his smarts.

There once was a wizard who spoke of the End of the World in all but one of his spells, which he himself later was to say was prophetic.

There once was a priest named Chest-Cutter who would burst into church during services, lurch around, and then forcibly extract the holy communion from those who were undeserving.

There once was a hungry dragon named Soji, who laid waste to an amusement park in the Red Light District with twenty breaths of flame, narrowly missing crowd favourites Mr. Kreepy and Blinged-Out Lorraine on his way.

There once was a computer programmer who turned green after an unfortunate dinner with a sentient jellyfish.

There once was a young rabbit named Tokler, and he was obsessed with making bombs.

There once was a man with a ten inch penis named Randy, who was so happy to have a ten inch penis that he couldn't stop talking about it.

There once was a wealthy plumber named Miasma, who was trying to get revenge on his former boss, Soda Scum.

There once was a jar full of hateful words. The owner of the jar was the devil, of course, and it was full of all kinds of crap.

There once was a purplish reptilian sorcerer who lived in a black hole.

There once was a knight named Mannequin, who was always carrying a lantern. He was terribly allergic to sunlight.

There once was a spider who spun webs of pain.

There once was a dying princess whose broken body was in the name of a crooked corporation.

There once was a magical fairy who was arrested for burning down a sports stadium but she claimed it was a manifestation of the wrath of the Almighty.

There once was a certain wizard with a twisted interest in enchanting people. He was not very good at it and to cover up his mistakes, he would resurrect the children who he had snuffed out of existence.

There once was a man who had lost his memory. The King let him live, even though he was a murderer.

There once was a bandit named Wise Priest who lost all his fingertips due to a cornfield accident. He still rides a one-legged horse, only he's not lost a step.

There once was a very evil president who'd promise to eradicate terrorism. After having been in office for only a few hours, he instead eradicated civil liberties, first-born sons, and free thought.

There once was a master whom possessed the power to turn any mortal into a key made of flesh and blood.

There once was a man who was wearing a shirt that said “Psychologist” on it. This didn’t mean that he was a real psychologist, but he went to see a psychologist who was wearing a T-shirt that said “Psychologist” on it. (my personal favorite)

There once was a stage magician who really knew his magic, and didn't bother hiding it from his community. He was the subject of one of those gruesome stories like you see on the back of dollar bills: If you pass this man on the street, you could be just the victim of a hideous curse that you won't even realize you're under until it's too late.

There once was a collection of skeletons who each came from another world entirely.

There once was a werewolf who had angered a wolf goddess. She cursed him to turn into a pile of human meat, took his father and mother's life, and cursed his three remaining relatives with a grievous condition.

There once was a boy with a weird finger. Even as a little child, friends dismissed his every finger and toe. It was hard not to.

There once was a man who survived The Flood and eventually came back with another man, and they would work the night shift under the high-traffic highway. They would tell ghost stories around the campfire with sparklers.

There once was a young inventor who sat in the back of a horse and carriage, flicking bullets into the place where his anus would be if he still had one. (riveting first line)

There was once a little earthworm who escaped the Death of the Universe.

[adriensaltprompts]

Submitted prompt Those Who Can Do Should Teach

Title is a pun on the phrase "those who cannot do, teach". Also can be called This Series Needs An Adult, Remix

Ms. Bustier is a terrible teacher but, thankfully, she takes a break to go have her baby and take advantage of the large amounts of maternity leave France provides.

In steps a substitute teacher, we'll name him after one of my old teachers, Mr. Iadorola. Mr. I, for short. His dad is the President of the Senate of France. Chloe's dad doesn't outrank him. She can't threaten him. Her dad knows it'd be political suicide to anger him and actually listens when Mr. I talks to him about Chloe's racism, bullying, and disrespectful behavior. For once, Chloe's actions have consequence and she either has to clean up her act or get ready to switch schools.

Meanwhile Lila is in an equally screwed position because she loves her mom, and she knows anything she says will absolutely make its way back to her now that the son of a prominent government official is near her. It'd take him two texts to get ahold of her mom's number and tell her about every single lie. Lila knows without having to be told and that if she keeps spreading gossip and starting drama, he'll tell her mom absolutely everything. No amount of moving will undo that kind of damage. Her mom will never think of her the same way again.

Then one day, when an akuma attacks and Adrien is goofing around so much that Marinette isn't sure they're going to be able to win this one, in swoops a new superhero wearing very familiar collar pins, the Deer Miraculous. After beating the crap out of the akuma alongside Ladybug, he turns and starts lecturing Chat Noir in a way that's oddly familiar... something about the cadence, the way he moves his hands, it's so...

"Mr. I?" Ladybug asks, and he freezes for a second, giving it away. "You have a Miraculous?!"

"Wait," Chat Noir says, "if you've had a Miraculous and you've been living in Paris for a month, why haven't we seen you before-"

That's interrupted by Mr. I doubling over, coughing. The Deer Miraculous is cracked, handed down his family line on his mother's side for generations. He's got a bit of a double life going on - no one knows he's a superhero, including his own parents, who never opened the box the Miraculous was in before giving it to him as a 30th birthday gift. He's got superpowers, but he can't come to the rescue unless he's okay with a ringing headache, nosebleed, and dizziness for hours afterwards. Still, if Chat Noir isn't going to take things seriously, someone has to step up. That's why he moved to Paris in the first place.

The awful physical side effects will not keep him from pitching in when Chat Noir can't be counted on - something he says in front of Adrien, who isn't pleased with that statement or the way Ladybug looks relieved, impressed, and concerned all at once.

So now the group dynamic has shifted, and worse, when he's around, Mr. I will not stop calling out the sexual harassment. "Stop harassing her and do your job." "If you're done sexually harassing girls for the night..." "Are you late because you were harassing some other poor girl, or is Ladybug your only victim?" "Keep your paws to yourself or I'll stomp on them with my hooves, catboy." And every time, Ladybug's esteem for him gets a little bit higher, and Chat Noir gets a little more furious with him.

Meanwhile in class Marinette has put this teacher on a pedestal, this awesome guy who moved across the country to risk his life saving other people, cooler even than Jagged Stone in her eyes, and Adrien, for the first time, is acting up in school, so, so irritated with this guy who doesn't understand that Ladybug is his. The rudeness and insubordination in class amps up until, finally, Mr. I takes him aside after class one day.

"I know you're Chat Noir. You popping up whenever one of my students goes missing is a dead giveaway; don't deny it. Clean up your act or so help me God, I will send a note home to your father. I can have you pulled out of school, young man. You either learn that no means no and start treating women with respect, or you get to find out what it's like to have your wishes ignored by someone you can't get away from."

"That's not what I've been doing with Ladybug!"

"Yes, it is. And I intend to stop you while you're a kitten, before you become a predator. That's what you are, Adrien. You're predatory, and I come from a long line of hunters, the only thing that triumphs over predators in the wild. You keep that in mind for next time. Now, dismissed."

[magicalmanhattanproject]

Fight scene practice!! If you can still write a bit of Empires season 1, I'd love to see Pix and fWhip fighting with a trident and a sword respectively. Maybe one of them was pranking the other one and almost got away, but got outpaced in the chase and decided it would be more fun to turn and fight instead of running?

"Well, if we're going to be pulling off this heist together, we should probably know how each of us fights," Pix says, shrugging his shirt back on. "How about a spar? First blood work for you?"

"Uh, that depends. Do you, like, bleed?" fWhip asks. He's still holding a small stone covered in Pix's blood, but, like... he pulled it out of sand that may have also been Pix's blood.

"Of course I do," Pix scoffs. "I'm just as human as you are."

"...Right. But, uh, yeah. First blood works."

"Excellent! Right this way."

It's still late at night, but Pix looks as spry as ever. More than he's been all day, in fact. The training field is quiet and empty except for a single guard lurking in the corner. fWhip gets the sense that she's trying to be unobtrusive.

Pix draw his trident from his inventory and fWhip does the same with his sword. There's no clear signal to start. They just begin circling each other slowly, about ten paces apart. The training field is lit well enough by the stars and the moon. Out here, there's no need to worry about clouds obstructing their vision.

fWhip strikes first. He smacks the trident with the flat of his blade to get it out of his way and darts in to his right.

Pix takes a half step back and parries with the back end of the trident. It's a pretty fancy flourish.

fWhip punishes him for it. Feints high over Pix's guard and slashes at his stomach when Pix pulls his trident up. Pix scrambles back. fWhip follows. He presses attacks every chance he gets and Pix parries as he retreats, though he can never quite get the tines of the trident positioned for a counterattack, not since he ceded the range with that first, fateful flourish. It's almost like dealing with a quarterstaff, though not one fWhip can expect to break.

fWhip follows Pix all the way to the edge of the training field with the wooden wall of the barracks. Ah. That has to be plan. Lure fWhip in close and try to get him to catch his sword in the planks. fWhip steps back a bit to give himself space from the wall.

And gives Pix enough space to bring his tines to bear. Pity the length of the trident keeps him too far away for fWhip to employ his greatest weapon (pocket sand).

Pix jabs at fWhip over and over again and fWhip narrowly dodges each jab, but he can't close the range again. Well, time for his second greatest weapon.

"Flash grenade!" fWhip yells as he pulls the device out of his sandless pocket and squeezes his eyes shut against the explosion of brilliant white light. It shakes his whole head despite his best efforts to scramble out of the way.

When he opens his eyes, Pix is standing there, leaning on his trident. "You have, uh–" he gestures vaguely to his own nose.

fWhip brings his hand up to his face. Sure enough, his fingers come away red. Right. Standing too close to a flashbang always did give him nosebleeds. "I guess you win?"

Pix shrugs. "We just said first blood. Never said whose blood."

fWhip laughs. "Works for me." Winning always does.